#i had 2 golden apples

[micer2012]

a reflection on MatPat's plagiarism

Hello, my name is Della, or micer2012, and 2 years ago Game Theory plagiarized three Tumblr posts of mine, making a video that now holds almost 6 million views.

My posts explaining his plagiarism made their rounds on Reddit, Tumblr and Twitter, but despite the Hermits and Pooka commenting on it (generally in support of me or saying they don’t know enough details about the situation to say either way), MatPat and his team have never owned up to anything, and no mention of my name is present on the video. The one Reddit post they made denying it (which was made before my detailed takedown, which they have never responded to (though the mods on the r/GameTheorists Reddit were kind and made sure it stayed up)) didn’t even mention me by name, just referring to me as “a tumblr user”. (Though one of the screenshotted comments in the body of the post does say my name)

This experience was baffling, but it’s overall had a positive impact on my life. r/Hermitcraft gave me a Golden Apple Award (post of the year, 2021). My inbox was filled with excited fans, wanting to ask me questions or pose their own theories, far more than the hate I got. (Though the hate I got from Game Theory fans was VERY funny. I wondered why none of them gave me shit about saying “MatPat misgendered Evil Xisuma” before realizing none of them read that far into the post.)

And getting on a more personal, and much more important note, I met most of my current online friends through this, including my partner. It helped me grow closer with my irl friends as well and gave me an entertaining story that I tell whenever I have the chance. It was one of the first things in my life that really made me feel like my talents, my autistic hyperfocusing and analyzing of things I love, could be valuable. Useful. Exploitable. It blew my mind that MatPat thought an autistic kid’s ramblings about a Minecraft Youtube joke character were good enough to steal. To put an audible sponsorship on. To get 6 million views off of.

And that’s why I’m writing this post, this update years later. As you might’ve been able to guess, Hbomberguy’s Youtube video on plagiarism reopened this wound. It was really hard for me to sit through, it took days of pausing and taking breaks, because I had experienced everything he was talking about firsthand. 

In my 10 page long takedown post, I wrote about how his rewording of my sentences made him say things that were incorrect, just like Filip did. The content farm production style that made big companies like Cinemassacre take one creator (AVGN/MatPat) and turn him and his content into a brand, a voice that reads out scripts by other people with other opinions/theories, is a history shared with Game Theory. What really hit me was Harris talking about how big creators only do this to people they think they can get away with doing it to. How they view their victims as lesser, as not deserving of their words, repackaging them as their own to give to an audience that can gain from hearing them, but deserves better than to have to listen to the original victim.

That’s the thing, I 100% think a video version of my theory to expose to a bigger community than “Evil Xisuma Fans on Tumblr” is a great idea!! Near the end of the video Harris talks about how video adaptations of things could be a great market, even an accessibility tool, and I completely feel that about my posts. I wrote them quickly assuming the reader was someone well versed on Evil Xisuma lore, after not even watching most of the CarnEvil series, and the diagrams I made to explain them are even less comprehensible. Harris makes a joke that I completely agree with, 

“I’m sure some of my videos would do very well if someone translated them into English.”

I don’t think I would’ve ever made my posts if I didn’t have autism, and a special fixation on Evil Xisuma and Hermitcraft. I made them because I felt the character was being done an injustice, and because I wanted to share with other superfans this theory that might explain it away. I do think that MatPat plagiarizing me was ableist. I used to wonder a lot if this would’ve happened if my posts were articulated better, if they had been peer reviewed, if the posts themselves had been spread to a wider audience before MatPat made his video. At one point when the discourse was fresh (before I had the time to write out my 10 page rebuttal), a bigger YouTuber (100k subs at the time) messaged me and started talking on Discord, interested in possibly making a video on the discourse, but I think my style of typing and general enthusiasm drove him away. You can tell by a single look at my blog (or my original 3 posts!) that I don’t usually type like this. This post you’re reading now has been peer reviewed and edited, and took me hours to format correctly. That video could’ve been huge, the entire outcome of this MatPat situation would probably be much different.

I also used to stress a lot about “being the one who ruined Evil Xisuma’s story”. If you didn’t know, to me S8 Evil Xisuma’s story got wrapped up pretty quickly and unsatisfying (in my personal autistic opinion). (though this might’ve been due to s8 being experimental and ending early with moon big) There was no real culmination of the plot points and arcs going on, and I don’t want to blame myself, but when Xisuma said on stream (when the MatPat thing was first going on) that he didn’t want to focus on the discourse or draw more attention to it, it makes a lot of sense to me that he just wanted to wrap it all up as quickly as possible. For a while I beat myself up about it, of ruining the story of this character I love, but it’s not my fault. If anyone’s, it’s MatPats, but I don’t think it’s useful to just blame someone else. That’s how the story ended up going, and that’s fine. This is Evil Xisuma we’re talking about, their inconsistent lore is what made them such an interesting character. And notably, Pooka made an animation with an awesome culmination of Jeff, the Dreamer, Evil Xisuma, and his own sona’s story, and it makes me so happy to watch. Whatever Pooka does is of course his own choice, but I’m glad he got to give this personal story his own ending (if it is an ending, and not just the start of a new chapter!). 

Typing this all out and getting it off my chest has made me feel a lot better. For a while I wanted to make my OWN video essay about Evil Xisuma’s lore and CarnEvil’s lore, actually going episode by episode to explain it instead of just assuming you knew as much about Evil Xisuma as I did. That idea is still not off the table, but MCYT isn’t something I’m that into right now. Maybe if something else comes out about Evil Xisuma I’ll get back on it, but for now I’m fine with letting that go. But I want to make other videos, share other theories and analysis… if I have the freetime I’d love to make YouTube videos, and if I don’t have the time I’ll continue posting to my tumblr and infodumping to my friends. Apparently my infodumping is valuable enough “content” to steal! Writing this out has made me feel a lot better though, I’m really glad I got it out.

If anyone ever wants to talk to me about the things I’m obsessed with, or reach out to me as a source in a bigger discussion about Game Theory or other channels, my inbox is more than welcome :] Thank you for reading! 

Sincerely, a tumblr user.

[umbrella-show]

🎭 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐞 : Pt.2

Umm I hope this is good 😭 This is a continuation of Part 1 Taglist: @kurayami-creations, @lovley-valentine7, @dazedemery, @mspurpl3

You let out a strained sigh and collapsed on the clean white marble stairs. Panting heavily, you looked up at the rest of the stairs. You were almost at the top. You had to keep going. There had to be a way out of this spire. 

After the betrayal of Apple faerie cookie, you had suddenly awoke at the bottom of the Spire with no sense of time. The sight of the seemingly endless staircase startled you. You couldn’t even see the top. There were windows in the spire you had passed by, but outside was only a void of blue stars. The sight would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the blue eyes that watched you from outside of the tower. You swore you could occasionally hear giggling and laughing outside of the spire, but you knew you weren’t in the right state of mind as you continued to infinitely climb up. You had been walking up the stairs for what felt like hours. It was the only thing you could really do. You prayed there was an exit up there. 

You used the last remaining strength you had to continue to climb, staring at the top of the tower. It was so close. Just a dozen more steps. 

“Ooooh~ Well lookie here!”

You froze at the voice, your legs shaking in exhaustion as they could barely hold your body up. You flinched harshly at the sight of a giant blue eye with a vertical slit pupil peeking in at you through the open window next to you, giving it a direct view of your startled form. You stared at the eye like a deer in headlights. Shadow Milk cookie.

“What a determined little cookie! You really climbed all of those stairs, huh? You must be soooo tired~”

You struggled to stay standing as your legs begged for a break. You could only narrow your eyes and weakly glare at the giant one. The eye crinkled in amusement at the sight of your weary state.

“Hm. You still got some fight in you? How entertaining! You are always so fun to mess with, you know?”

Shadow Milk cookie’s giggled echoed throughout the spire, bouncing off the wall and filling your head. You shrieked as you felt the stairs beneath you shift.

“You know, a change of scenery would be much nicer. Just relax and enjoy the ride!”

A scream ripped from your throat as the stairs turned into smooth marble and you slid down to the bottom of the tower at incredible speed. The echoed laugh barely reached your ears as your own screams overpowered the noise. You could only helplessly stare with wide eyes as you were suddenly plunged into darkness and the floor beneath you disappeared. You shut your eyes tight and curled in on yourself in a fetal position, barely able to catch your breath as you fell deeper and deeper into the darkness. You didn’t know what was happening around you. All you knew was that you were falling.

It was only when you felt your back lightly touch the solid surface of the ground was when you opened your eyes. You were in a large, open space. Blue checkered titles shimmered, untouched by filth. On the walls hung familiar pictured frames and candles that dimly lit the room. A golden chandelier hung from a rounded ceiling in the middle of the room. Was this.. A ballroom of sorts?

This felt so undeniably wrong. You’ve been to multiple balls and gatherings hosted in the palace of the Hollyberry kingdom. The sight of an empty ballroom, devoid of cookie dancing and gossip, was disturbing. The feeling of being alone in such a space, supposed to be populated by cookies, sent a chill down your spine.

The floor squeaked as you stepped atop the unstained decorative floors. Wearily, you looked around for any sort of exit. You found none. There were no doors to grant your exit, nor were there any windows you could potentially leave from. You were practically trapped in a room with no way out.

“Oh? Are you thinking about leaving? So soon?”

You flinched, your breath catching in your throat. You whipped your head back to see the Beast cookie, levitating inches off the ground. Clicking his tongue, he taunted you with his familiar vivacious voice that echoed throughout the empty room. 

“I wouldn't fill my head with such notions. You can’t leave.” 

A playful laugh came from him as he inched closer. You took a step back in return. His smile visibly widened at your unnerved expression and he only continued to float closer. His eyes averted to observe the empty room, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

“Lovely, ain’t it? Especially the pictures~ Say, ballrooms are meant for dancing, aren’t they?”

His sudden disappearance into the shadows caused you to tense and frantically glance around for any sign of him. Shadows shifted and slinked into the darkest shadows in the corners of the room.

A shriek came from you as thin blue strings suddenly wrapped around your arms and legs. Barely even granted the chance to compose yourself, hands planted themselves firmly on your shoulders and forcibly spun you the other way. You lost your footing as you were forced to turn and you braced yourself for when you would hit the ground. Yet, a hand suddenly grabbed one of yours and the strings around your body tightened to position you into a graceful pose. You shakily exhaled, unable to comprehend what had just happened in a matter of seconds. Your eyes could only helplessly avert to Shadow Milk cookie, grasping one of your hands tightly. 

“Then, why don't we dance!”

He didn’t ask, he demanded, as he pulled you back into an upright position and forcefully guided you. The strings around your body aided in his favor, making you follow his lead and unwillingly dance with the cookie you utterly feared. Music began to play from somewhere in the background, a soft and elegant tune completely contrasting the horror you felt in this situation. 

The dance was a mix of ballroom dancing, but with a twist. Shadow Milk cookie added his own spin on the moves. A little bit of ballet was added on his part as gracefully twirled in your arms, forcing you to hold his hand above his head. He compelled you to lead his fluid spins and gracious steps, while he took on the role of the follower and submitted to your control.

Yet, he was the one who controlled when you spun him, where you stepped, how you danced. When you tried to shift in an unscripted direction, when you tried to fight his control, the strings painfully tightened. You could only helplessly look into his eyes and watch as his mouth grew into a smirk as you let your body comply to his puppeteer strings.

As the music continued to the final verse, the dance sped up a couple of beats. Shadow Milk cookie made sure to add extra flair to his twirls and steps, grandly posing and drawing nearer to you. Performing one more elegant spin, he suddenly tipped backwards. You supported him by planting a hand on his back while the other held his leg against your side, and leaning forwards. You were left breathing shakily, when the music ceased. 

Trapped in that pose, you looked down to meet his narrowed eyes. He seemed thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal. You two wordlessly stared at each other for a few more seconds, before the sound of echoed clapping caught your attention. 

Looking over to your right, you could immediately recognize Apple Faerie cookie- no, who you once thought was Apple Faerie cookie. Candy Apple cookie beamed at you and Shadow Milk cookie, bouncing on her heels as she was unable to sit still. The clapping came from a different cookie, one who wore a fancy black suit. In his hands was a tall black staff, and his deep black eyes looked in amusement at both you and Shadow Milk cookie.

When you realized you had been freed from the constricting puppeteer strings, Shadow Milk cookie suddenly vanished from your arms. You were left dumbfounded as you stared into your open arms. You were suddenly tackled, arm wrapping around your waist. Looking over you saw Candy apple cookie hugging your side. 

“EEE! Y/N cookie! I told you! You fit in so well here!”

To your right was the cookie you were unfamiliar with. With a straightened posture, he gave a small bow to you when your eyes met.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, our newest actor.”

Your brain struggled to decipher what was happening. One minute you had been climbing a tower, the next you had been forced to dance, and now you had Candy Apple cookie practically attached to you in a one-sided embrace with another cookie addressing you as ‘their newest actor.’ 

Shadow Milk cookie suddenly reappeared by your side, levitating and tilting his head at an unnatural angle, grinning at your disturbed expression. His eyes surveyed your tense posture that only stiffened at his gaze, and a playful hum came from him.

“Now, why don’t we get you ready, for your role in this next act of Truth and Deceit is very important!~” 

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

[serafilms]

FIRST DATE, KINDA NERVOUS

part 2 of the golden quartet

art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader

summary: the story of your first kiss with art donaldson in a hotel room, and your first date in a diner. cute, fluffy, healthy, a tiny bit suggestive but not really. group polyamory dynamics hinted at. (play: so high school by taylor swift). wc: 3.5k

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “They’re cute, they seem nice, and your backhand is like, a million times stronger than theirs, so I reckon you could take them in a fight.”

“What, you wouldn’t help?”

“Please. I’m too weak for that,” you said, shaking your wrist limply in Tashi’s face.

She rolled her eyes at you and pushed it out of the way. “Whatever, fine. We’re going.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. After showering, the straight hair from the party had disappeared, giving way to her natural waves. You always thought she looked prettier this way. Softer, somehow.

“Yay,” you said simply. “But just remember that my parents placed my safety and care in your hands, so if we get, like, murdered or something—”

“Oh, shut up,” Tashi groaned, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth, “you were just endorsing them.”

“Yeah, well. I’m indecisive.”

The smile that slowly spread across Tashi’s face told you all you needed to know. Ten seconds later you had grabbed and shrugged on your jacket and the two of you were climbing your way out of her bedroom window.

Now, you’re sitting on the floor of a hotel room, Tashi on your left and Art on your right, Patrick laying comfortably across from you, propped up by his elbows.

The beer in your hand is pretty shitty, which is a fact you find odd considering you can only assume it was either stolen from one of their parents, or paid for using a bribe, and in both of those cases, wouldn’t the beer be better?

But maybe that’s not what you should be focusing on right now, you think, as Patrick leans forwards to take it from your hand. His fingers brush yours as the can crosses over. For the last hour or so, the four of you have gone through eleven cans of beer, each consumed one at a time, being passed around like a bong.

Your eyes linger on the way Patrick’s mouth engulfs the opening of the can, right where yours had just been, and the way he passes it right to Tashi, who does the same as she takes a sip. The flush of heat in your face and belly are hard to ignore, and you’re not too sure how much of it can be attributed to the alcohol.

There’s a stutter in your chest as Art nudges you with his elbow. “So what are you planning on majoring in?”

His cheeks and ears also look flushed, but you think that might just be a consequence of the story Patrick told earlier. It was a sweet story; you assured the boy next to you of that when he’d buried his face in his hands, but he still seemed a little perturbed.

It was a sweet story though, you muse. Tashi said that they seemed like brothers, but you thought they seemed like they were an old married couple.

You’re brought back out of your thoughts as Tashi hands you the beer. “Oh, um. I’m not too set on anything yet, but I think maybe journalism.”

Patrick lets out a whistle. “What, not physiotherapy or sports medicine?”

You shrug, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Just because I was a tennis player doesn’t mean it’s my whole personality.”

Immediately, you wince. Wrong place, wrong time. You steal a quick glance at Tashi, but she seems unaffected. Right. It’s Tashi. The last thing she feels is insecure. She simply looks at you.

But for good measure, you add, “I mean, I can still do sports news, or something.”

Against the better judgement of your burning stomach and your sluggish thoughts, you take another swig and then pass the can to Art.

“Journalism suits you,” he comments quietly as he takes it. You give him a small smile. He takes a small sip of the beer, and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he swallows.

“I need some ice,” announces Tashi. She rises from her position on the floor.

Patrick wastes no time in scrambling up too. “I’ll come with!”

Tashi gives you a look like she’s exasperated, but you know better from the way she waits for Patrick to grab his key and open the door for her. She doesn’t look back as she walks out, but Patrick calls out a teasing, “See you guys later,” before the door closes fully.

When you turn your head towards Art, you see that he’s looking right at you.

“You sure do that a lot,” you mumble.

He smiles in a way that seems endeared and a little confused. “What?”

“Stare.”

“Sorry, I just—”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice. I- I, uh.” Your thoughts are racing, everywhere and nowhere all at once, as you struggle to find the words. The way Art looks at you sends a buzz of something in your abdomen, and your mind becomes all the more scrambled. “I need to stand up.”

You stand quickly, maybe too quickly, and immediately stumble.

“Whoa, you okay?” Art’s quick to jump to his feet. His hands find their place on either side of your waist to steady you. Now you really can’t focus.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “I think I should sit down instead.”

You’re very aware of the fact that his hand stays on your waist as you bumble over to the edge of the bed and take a seat.

There’s a pang of disappointment when his hand leaves your waist, and another when he stands unsurely in front of you. You pat the spot next to you.

“Sit. Please.”

He complies. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, he’s much closer than when you were sitting on the floor together. You fiddle with your hands and steal glances at him every now and then.

“I wanted to ask you,” Art breaks the silence, “do you ever miss it?”

You don’t need to ask what he means by ‘it.’

There’s a moment where you gaze off, eyes wandering towards the door, before they return to the boy next to you and you shake your head.

“I don’t, not really.” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought. “It was fun for a while, and I liked being good at something, but I think I just fell out of love with it after a while. Like my whole life became just tennis, and thinking about a future in tennis. If I’m being honest, the injury was like a miracle to me.”

Art looks thoughtful at that. “What’s so wrong with a life of tennis?”

“Well. I mean, nothing, I guess. It just took a lot more time and effort than I would’ve liked. And there’s all the things I had to give up for it.”

He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue, so you do. “Cheeseburgers, sleeping in. Love.”

The bed dips closer to you as he shuffles a little closer. It prompts you to look back up at him.

The curls on his forehead hang low, just over his eyes. His hand rests just next to your thigh, and he rests his weight on it to lean just a bit closer. “You don’t think you can be in love and play tennis at the same time?”

Art’s presence has a magnetic effect on you. There’s a gravitational pull that has you angling your body towards him and moving ever so slightly closer to him.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

His eyes dart down to your lips. It’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you do the same. You can almost feel the warmth of his exhale as your faces draw closer and closer.

“Can I?” Art whispers.

“Please,” you respond.

His hand comes off the bed to rest on your cheek, and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, gentle, but there’s an urgency in the way his tongue teases the entrance of your lips, and the way he moves even closer towards you, almost as if he’s chasing you.

Your hands find themselves at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand moves to rest on your waist. Then your thigh. You let out a hum as your stomach does a little leap. Then, he pulls away for a fraction of a second to take you in, before his lips are on yours again. It’s electric, when he tilts his head slightly to the other side, when the hand on your cheek slides down to your jaw to bring you closer, when you hear a low groan in the base of his throat as his hand slides to the inner part of your thigh.

Then you hear the key at the door, and you both jump apart.

Tashi has a cup of ice water in her hand when she surveys the scene in front of her.

Your bodies are still angled suspiciously towards each other and your hands both rest awkwardly in your laps. Little is left to the imagination. You can still feel the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart when Patrick raises his eyebrows at the two of you, a grin on his face.

“So,” he begins, “what have you guys been up to?”

Art and you speak at the same time. “Oh, you know, nothing much.” “Just chilling.”

Tashi’s face is thoughtful, as she looks at you and her lips quirk up in a smile. She nods her head to the door behind her. “Well, it’s late. We should go.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between the three people in the room. Slowly, you stand, giving Art an awkward kind of smile as you brush past him.

“Wait,” Patrick exclaims, “can I get your phone number?”

She shrugs back at him, holding the door open. “Play some real tennis tomorrow, and then I’ll give you my number.”

“So like, if I win?”

“You don’t have to win to play well.”

You’re not sure where this leaves you and Art in the mix, but Tashi is looking at you expectantly from the doorway, and you fear you don’t have the time to decide now. With an apologetic look and a wave, you mutter, “See you guys,” and then you’re out the door.

In the end, Patrick does win. He gives a flourishing bow as Tashi shrugs and applauds him. She turns to whisper something in your ear, but the words make no contact with your thoughts. As Art looks dejectedly at his racket, then at his best friend across the court, you stand abruptly. Tashi looks at you, bewildered.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, I was—”

Whatever her next words are, they die in her throat as she sighs and watches you thread your way through the stands and go down the stairs to the side of the court.

“Hey!” you call out. Art’s head perks up and his eyes search for the source of the sound until they land on you. He jogs to meet you.

“Hi.”

“Um,” you say, feeling suddenly like your foot has been shoved into your mouth, “you did really well.”

Art looks at you deadpan, but a smile starts to show in his eyes. “I lost.”

“Still, you were really good.” Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you start to regret coming over so hastily without planning what to say.

“Well, thanks. Really. It means a lot coming from you.” Looking back up, you see him scratching the back of his head nervously. It’s an odd look, considering he’s also drenched in sweat, and his glistening skin makes him look even more nervous than he is. “Look, uh. I know we didn’t make a deal or anything, but do you think I could get your number?”

Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake. “Yeah, I think I could make that happen.”

SIX WEEKS LATER.

God, you’re stressed right now. The hem of your top has fallen victim to your incessant fiddling as you tug at it, scrunch it up, release it and repeat.

“You’re acting like it’s your first date ever,” Tashi says, rolling her eyes. There’s a smile playing at her lips that tells you she isn’t trying to be as mean as she sounds.

“He’s cute, okay? I’m nervous.”

Tashi comes up behind you and you meet her eyes in the mirror. A shiver runs down your spine as she tugs at the collar of your jacket, knuckles brushing your neck in the process.

“You should take this off.”

“What? Why?” You stare at her reflection. “I know it’s still summer, but it’s nighttime, so­ like…” Her deadpan expression has you trailing off. “What?”

“You can wear his jacket instead.”

There’s a hollow silence as your mouth forms an ‘o’. Your fingers move to tug at the sleeves of the jacket, gaze averted from hers for a moment.

“You think he’ll offer?”

Another eye roll. “The guy’s like, obsessed with you. Of course he’ll offer. Doesn’t hurt to throw in a little shiver either.”

“What if he’s not wearing a jacket?”

“Oh, he’s wearing a jacket.” She waves her cell phone in your face. “Patrick texted me an update.”

You grin and shrug off the jacket as you turn to face her. “Who knew Tashi Duncan was such a sucker for clichés?”

“I’m just trying to make sure your date goes well,” Tashi scoffs as she snatches the jacket from your hands. “You’re the one who swoons every time you watch a romcom.”

She’s right about that one.

Tashi smacks her lips as she hangs your jacket back up in your closet. “I still don’t get why you’re so nervous. I thought we broke all the ice at the hotel.”

“Well, I can still be nervous. Just because you and Patrick had sex two weeks ago doesn’t mean I have to be as confident.”

She sighs because you’re right. Tonight is your first date. With Art. Not your first date ever. But you sure do feel nervous enough to pretend it is.

You and Art have been texting nonstop for the last six weeks, but between the odd part time jobs you’ve picked up over the summer and his tennis training, you haven’t had any time to hang out, unless your best friends who managed to squeeze in their first date, first time and first sleepover together all in one go. But Tashi and Patrick are much more go getter than you.

Tashi didn’t give you shit for your lack of fervour in pursuing whatever relationship you and Art had, but you still felt a little perturbed when she called you the day after her night with Patrick, and told you that he’d asked about you guys.

(“Does he not talk to Art about it?” you asked.

“He said Art’s happy, but he wanted to know how things were going on your end. Since you guys have only been texting.”)

So now you feel pressured. Like somehow your relationship is linked to Patrick and Tashi. Like they’re waiting for you guys to catch up.

But you don’t say any of that. Because you want things to go at your own pace, you keep quiet. Because you don’t want to speak it into existence, even if Tashi will roll her eyes and call you ridiculous for it because she knows your life is yours and hers is hers, despite the way she keeps trying to push you in certain directions.

When the doorbell inevitably rings, you and Tashi exchange looks. She gives you a nod. It’s more firm than comforting, like she’s sending you off to play at Wimbledon and she knows you’re going to win.

Your parents aren’t home for the next few days, which is why you strategically planned your date for tonight, because God forbid they use their last few weeks with you living under their roof to embarrass you in front of a guy. You almost expect Tashi to answer the door for you as if she’s your mother, but instead, she shoves your bag in your chest, says, “I’m using your shampoo and eating all your snacks,” and pushes you out of the bedroom door, then closes it.

One last check in the nearest reflective surface, and you’re ready.

Art is dressed casually, like you, in jeans and a polo. Tashi was right in saying that he would wear a jacket. In the light of your front porch, he looks especially gentle, the warm light threading through his hair like a halo.

The smile that lights up his face when you open the door has the potential to end your whole bloodline, you swear. The way your heart rate picks up feels like some kind of fight or flight response, but you’re willing to ignore it all for him.

“Hey,” he says. His voice has a comforting cadence, you think. It’s been six weeks since you’ve last heard it, since you were always too scared to call him. But it’s a sound like coming home.

“Hi,” you speak softly.

There’s a bouquet in his hands, which he holds out to you, one hand tucked in his jeans. “I brought these for you.”

You take them gingerly, trying to fight the grin that threatens to split your face in half. He’s so cute. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

You put them on the table just inside. Tashi will eventually make her way downstairs and put them in some water for you. Closing the door, you turn back to Art, who holds his hand out to you. It’s such a strangely innocent gesture that you almost catch yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Shall we?”

You take it, grinning like a madman. “We shall.”

“I never got to hear what you want to major in.” The fry in your hand is currently being waved around as though you’re conducting an orchestra.

“Oh. I don’t know,” Art averts his eyes to his plate. “I haven’t thought about it much.”

“I won’t judge,” you prompt gently.

He looks contemplative, and wets his bottom lip with his tongue briefly before looking up at you. “Okay.”

“Okay…” You gesture your fry towards him.

“You promise you won’t judge?” He asks, bobbing his head questioningly at you

You lean towards the table with your hand over your heart. “I swear it.”

“Physics. Or engineering.”

Sitting back in your seat, you survey him.

“That suits you,” you say genuinely. After you’ve said the words, you’re reminded all too well of the night in the hotel room again, and your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” Art says, gazing at you. “Patrick says that too, before he calls me a loser.”

“I’m guessing you’re more studious than he is.”

“You’d be right.”

Another sip of your milkshake. “I think it’s cool. Maybe we’ll even have some classes together.”

Art smiles his eye-crinkling smile across the table. “Yeah, maybe we will.”

You don’t even need to pretend to shiver. The second you’ve stepped out of the restaurant, Art’s jacket is slipped onto your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells faintly like sandalwood mixed with laundry detergent. You resist the urge to inhale the collar. Instead you smile shyly, and take his hand. There’s a knot forming in your chest at the thought of the night being over, but when the two of you reach his car, Art doesn’t take out his keys. He turns and leans against the side of his car, hand still entwined with your own.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says simply.

Your lips quirk up in amusement. “So did I.”

He hums. Your hands are swung from side to side as he looks down at them. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you step closer.

“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. You know what he’s thinking about.

He looks down at you, and does a one shoulder shrug. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”

Your heart stops and gets jumpstarted again in the span of about six milliseconds. God. You knew it was coming, but you still couldn’t prepare yourself.

“Not asking anymore, are we?” You grin, chest thumping like crazy.

“Oh, come on.” With a tug on your hand, you’re pulled flush against him, chest to chest.

Art leans in to your ear, and whispers as if divulging a well-kept secret. “May I please kiss you?”

The tickle of his breath over your jaw sends a zap of electricity through every single nerve in your body. Your breath hitches. “You may.”

You’re not sure you’ll ever get sick of Art Donaldson’s smile. The curve of his mouth as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours before your lips meet.

Your computer pings.

Patrick Zweig sent you a friend request.

You raise an eyebrow and hit ‘accept.’

A minute later, there’s another notification.

Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. “Congratulations on a successful first date with @Art Donaldson! 😘”.

[inmaki]

as an apology for my constant disappearing here is a preview for my virgin nanami fic, hopefully done by the end of this month <3

hurt (comfort in full fic), making out, nanami being dumb

nanami kento was an orderly man.

not a single strand of his golden hair ever strayed from its place. his tie was never too far to the right or the left — only smack dab in the middle against his built chest.

his crisp, navy shirt didn't dare have a wrinkle on it, much like his allen edmond shoes that were free from any creases despite being worn every day for years.

it made you want to ruin him. ruin such perfection in all his towering glory.

and you did - at least, at much as nanami would let you.

intense makeout sessions happened every so often: during impromptu movie nights on the couch, in the morning under the warmth of your shared blankets, and especially after extra-hard days at work.

yet it never went further, no matter how hard you tried to initiate anything — whether it be a hand sliding down too low, or a soft moan into his mouth, nanami would be fumbling up an excuse to leave immediately. just like now.

"mmph.. 'missed you," you mumble against his swollen lips, sucking the bottom one greedily. the man had only just walked into the kitchen when you'd practically pounced on him in hunger.

despite his surprise, kento gives you the privilege of running your nails through his once-perfectly-slicked-back hair, grunting as you yank him even closer with his tie, loosening it in the process.

"missed you too, honey." even the simplicity of his giant hands caressing your waist sends a rush of arousal through your body, humming as you rub a hand down the solid ridges of his abs. he tasted like the coffee he'd probably been sipping languidly throughout the day, mixed in with the natural flavor of him.

memories of the sorcerer slipping in and out of the shower shirtless — toned torso on display and all — were some of the hardest in your book. occasionally, you would joke to him about dropping your panties then and there. you never actually dropped them (that could easily change if he so asked), but you were pretty much hanging on to them for dear life every afternoon.

and in response to your compliment, nanami would only chuckle nervously before shutting the door behind him to change in the closet. an ugly feeling would blossom in your chest every time at his lack of enthusiam or reciprocation to your desire, though you never let the thought spiral.

a few minutes later, your lips remained glued to his, passionately making out against the counter while continuing your adventure around his body, never straying below his belt.

nanami felt dizzy as he finally pushed away to take a breath. usually he was quite good at keeping up with your ineffable needs — he placed the blame on his depletion from work.

a groan involuntarily escapes him as you lower your lips to suck beneath his jawline, bound to leave a mark. "my love, what's got you so worked up?" he inquires with closed eyes, tilting his head up to give you further access.

you hum in approval of the action, sucking even harder. "told you, i missed you."

before you could stop to think, your hand that was once on his abs instinctively moved lower to rest just above his bulge, and then everything stopped.

with a shaky clear of his throat, nanami pushes off the counter, forcing you to back away while his hands drop to his beige dress pants.

your brows furrow. "what-"

"i'm gonna take a shower." his eyes avert, adam’s apple bobbing smoothly.

not another word follows as your boyfriend paces to the apartment's shared bedroom, leaving you to drown in your cynical thoughts.

if u wanna be tagged comment/send an ask! srry this is short but the full fic is much longer!!! i am like 3/4 done! i js procrastinate writing the smut (also the reason part 2 of my gojo fic is taking forever) T-T

read virgin gojo while u wait <3

[fishytim-cookie]

COOKIE RUN RAREPAIR CRACKSHIP SHOWDOWN

I now have a list of all the ships that will be in the showdown. Sadly, I had to prioritise some over others, since there were a LOT of suggestions. I also had to separate all of it into categories, otherwise it would be impossible.

HERE ARE THE CATEGORIES

BEASTS x ANCIENTS

ANCIENTS (Ancients with any regular cookie)

BEASTS (Beasts with any regular cookie)

KINGDOM (cookies from cookie run kingdom)

OVENBREAK (cookies from ovenbreak)

and SPECIAL (very specific stuff)

The winners of each categories will then face each other in the ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN!

SO Here are the ships under the cut! I will make the charts and polls a bit later! Thank you for your suggestions!

BEASTS x ANCIENTS BurningVanilla PureShadowLily SmokedBurningCheese (Fix a Beast) EternalVanilla BurningCacao MysticCheese DarkSugar GoldenSugar BurningShadowVanilla HollySpice (digimon au) EternalLily

ANCIENTS HollyTarte Clottedvanilla Stormbringer x Cacao x Vanilla Creamlily (Fix a Beast) Golden Cheese x Cilantro Cobra Dark Cacao x Longan Dragon Dark Cacao x Affogato CacaoLily (Legend Land AU) Dark Cacao x Timekeeper Hollycheese

BEASTS ShadowKeeper Burning Spice x Cream Unicorn SmokedSpice Burning Spice x Stormbringer Longan Dragon x Silent Salt MysticPearl BurningPitaya Sugar Swan x Eternal Sugar Shadow Milk x Stardust (au by @memeticexistence ) MysticSalt (Legend Land) SilentSugar BurningSugar

KINGDOM (oh boy) Black Sapphire x Clotted Cream Blackbell Tiger Lily x Raspberry Stardust x Cream Unicorn Wind Archer x Elder Faerie Black Pearl x Black Caviar Black Sapphire x Sugarfly Stardust x Mercurial Knight Butter roll x Knight Butter roll x Mercurial Knight (Beast Ancients AU) Stardust x Wind Archer Silverbell x Clover Black Raisin x Caramel Arrow (Jambound) Crimson Coral x Stardust Herb x Avocado Nutmeg Tiger x Sugarfly Rye x Mala Sauce Raspberry x Black Raisin x Caramel Arrow Candy Apple x Strawberry (Fix a Beast) Red Velvet x Mercurial Knight Red Velvet x Kouign Amann Beet x Carrot Mozzarella x Mercurial Knight x Crunchy Chip 1 Fire Spirit x Moonlight Silverbell x Herb Financier x Raspberry Nutmeg Tiger x Mozzarella Rockstar x Creme Brulee Caramel Arrow x Rye Cherry Blossom x Werewolf Caramel Arrow x Red Velvet Pomegranate x Black Forest Golden Osmanthus x Camellia x Cobalt Pomegranate x Clotted Cream x Affogato (DaisyVerse by Phospell on AO3) SmokedMozzarella Clotted Cream x Affogato

OVENBREAK Affogato x Snake Fruit Ananas Dragon x Millenial Tree Affogato x Birthday Cake Longan Dragon x Royal Margarine Time Keeper x Sugar Swan Vagabond x Gim Cream Unicorn x Dream Weaver Dream Weaver x Time Keeper Butter Roll x Dr Bones Hydrangea x Snakefruit Longan Dragon x Millenial Tree Elder Faerie x Millenial Tree Mala Sauce x Rambutan Coffee Candy x Baguette Agent Jjajang x Astronaut Langue de Chat x Cappuccino Abyss Monarch x Black Pearl Longan Dragon x Snakefruit Black Garlic x White Ghost Okchun x Rebel x Vagabond Sachertorte x Blackberry

SPECIAL Dark Choco x Therapy Light of Knowledge x Light of Happiness x Light of Change (Fix a Beast) Blueberry Pie x Books Longan Dragon x Therapy Gingerbrave x Yolky Dolkie (Ovenbreak 2) Pureshadowlily Staffs

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fall Into the Dark With Me✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

Part 2

Part 3

A/N: I have had this idea for the longest time to mix the two things I love the most together. I hope you love it as much as I do! Hogwarts AU with Joel Miller was the best idea I’ve had in a while. He is an absolute menace in this, and I love him very much 🥰 Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading!

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.9k

Tags: Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, relentless teasing, flirting, pining, Joel is a menace, no use y/n, Hogwarts AU, Joel has a dirty mouth, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, porn with plot, Harry Potter spells and references, no outbreak au, Dark Arts! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  August blew in as fast as the hot summer breeze slipped out of reach. No more cozy afternoons curled up on your plush couch with your cat. You were back to big green open lands, back to the scents of willow trees and butterbeer, back to Hogwarts. Home for the next school year. 

   The thing was, you weren’t prepared for what awaited you behind those grand castle walls this semester, not even a little bit. You weren’t prepared for him. 

   Joel Miller, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the absolute bane of your existence. Ever since you locked eyes with him that first time in the Great Hall, you couldn’t get those gorgeous brown irises out of your head. 

   He was a menace; you could just tell. You knew the moment you saw that smug smirk on his face, those tousled grey flecked curls you could lace your fingers through, that patchy salt-and-pepper beard that you imagined might feel so good trailing down the skin of your neck with plush lips teasing across your body. 

   It was the way he carried himself. Like he owned every single damn room he walked into. Button-up silky shirts that he rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long, corded veins that skated down his tanned forearms. But let’s not forget the emerald snake tattoo that slithered its way around his forearm, accentuating the tanned skin that glowed almost golden under the warm, sunlit skies. Marking his Slytherin blood with ink. And those hands. Big, thick fingers that he’d wrap around his dark brown dragon heartstring wand as he chanted spells inside his classroom. And the way his eyes always seemed to shift toward yours in a crowded room. Those dark brown coffee-colored eyes that seemed to put you under a hypnotic spell. 

   He was trouble. You knew it, too. 

   It all started that first day, after that first heated stare at the sorting ceremony. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you for the entire night. He didn’t hide it either. And then it was the casual grazing of hands in crowded halls, the flirtatious smiles and winks across the dining hall, the small conversations in the outside gardens as he’d slip a green apple from his pocket and slowly take a bite out of it. His eyes never leaving yours as they devoured you. Just like you’d wish he’d do to your skin, your lips, your flustered core. 

   He knew what he was doing, he knew damn well. 

   It was just a flirtatious banter between a tall, handsome Slytherin and a shy, gentle Hufflepuff. One a Dark Arts professor, the other a Herbology professor. It was only casual conversations and the occasional grazing of hands. Until it wasn’t. 

   No. Then he started taunting you, playing petty games. The hard-to-get kind of games. 

   One of the assistant professors, Priscilla Wilson, would always try to get attention from Professor Miller. Finding any reason to reach over and brush her fingers over his broad shoulders. Flip her long, fiery red hair, bat her long eyelashes, giggle every time he gives in to her flirting and winks over at her, making her nearly fall out of her seat. And every single time he’d entertain her, he’d look your way and fucking smirk at you. 

   Fucking smirk.

   Smug bastard. You just want to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but you also just really want to fucking kiss it off. 

   You’re so royally fucked.

   He loves to tease you. Loves to put you right on the edge where you’ll either lash out and call him on his bluff, or just scoff and brush it off your shoulder like a Cornish Pixie. 

   He knows damn well it gets you all flustered. Cheeks red, hot breath blowing from your mouth, pursed lips as he smirks your way while other women fawn over him. Drool practically hanging from their gawking mouths. You can practically feel the pride he wears inside that broad chest of his. Brown eyes narrowed while he dares you to do anything about it. He knows you won’t. Knows you’re better than to give in to his little tricks. So you just take it and stomp out of the room. Every single time while his devious chuckle floats through the room, right into your ears. 

   Well, he’d gotten into your head long ago. You gave in to the temptation of his smoldering brown eyes, the playful smirks that curl across his plush lips, that fucking Southern accent that drives you up the walls when you’re in your bed late at night. 

   He’s poisoned you. Enchanted you with his cunning Slytherin ways. Handsome, ambitious, prideful, strong, mischievous, smoldering. That’s exactly why you slip your hand under the cool sheets night after night. Fingers curling up inside you, thumb stroking light circles over your needy clit, moaning his name, pretending that it’s him under your sheets taking you over the edge. 

   His hands, his fingers, his filthy words, his mouth, his cock, his everything giving you orgasm after orgasm. And when you’re finished, sweat coating every inch of your skin, you feel breathless and dirty. 

   This is what he wants. You all hot and bothered for him. Well, he won because you’re already completely smitten for the Slytherin man. 

   And one day, he’ll give in to you, too. 

   The cool air whips past your hair as students shuffle by in the busy hall, rushing so they won’t be late to their classes. Large, cascading open windows filter sunlight through the massive hallway, historical paintings fill the stone walls, towering archways pave every corner, wafts of autumn leaves and pumpkins marinate through the air. 

   Hogwarts is peaceful, and this place is magical.

   As the last of the students disappear down corridors and hurry into classrooms, you’re suddenly alone in the hallway. No noise except for the classroom in front of you. But it’s not just any classroom. 

   It’s the Dark Arts classroom. Joel’s classroom. 

   You lean against the stony wall, wait until all the students quiet down. Eventually, Joel shuts them up and then there’s nothing but his deep, Southern drawl filling the room, filtering out just enough in the hall for you to sit and listen. 

   You do this often. More like every other day. Sitting outside his classroom, listening to his melodic voice teaching about his passion. He’s always had a love for the Dark Arts and now, so do you. 

   As you lean against the edge of the doorway, back against the stone-covered wall, you seem to get lost in the deep drawl of his voice like an enchanted siren. You could listen to him for hours on end. He’s good at what he does. Smart, cunning, brilliant. 

   And by brilliant, you mean he’s wiser than some of the ghosts that lurk these castle corridors. Some people even whisper that he can speak Parseltongue. And you don’t doubt it for one second. The man would open the Chamber of Secrets if someone would let him. 

   But Joel doesn’t need permission from anyone. He does what he wants, when he wants, and who he wants. You just wish that someone was you. 

   You sigh as you lean against the wall, panting every time he starts lecturing on different subjects about the Dark Arts. Today, he’s teaching about werewolves. And that is a subject you happen to find quite fascinating. 

   “Miss Flora, can you tell me how—.”

   You shift your weight and lose your balance, almost tumbling to the polished floor until you grab ahold of the silver-edged door and stop yourself. 

   The classroom grows silent and so does Joel’s bravado voice. 

   Shit. You just got caught red handed. 

   “Think we’ve got a straggler out in the hall. Think they should come in. Don’t you, students?” You hear the smirk in his voice. Like he knows it’s you. But how would he know…

   Oh, right. Because he’s the smartest fucking professor at this school. 

   When he clears his throat, you know you won’t be able to weasel your way out of this one. So, you take a hesitant step into the entrance of his classroom, and there he is. Big brown eyes narrowed just slightly and a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

   God, he’s so good looking.

   “Ahh. Professor. Care to join us?” he asks, stepping around his mahogany desk, tapping the tip of his dragon heartstring wand against the top of his thigh.

   That’s all it takes to have you weak in the knees. Because the way he’s looking at you tells you everything you need to know. He wants to pull your strings, make you shiver, make you pliable. And now’s the perfect opportunity where he can fluster you up without even fucking touching you. 

   Shit.

   “Take a seat,” he says, nodding to an open seat at the back of the room.

   You shake your head and take a step back, careful not to look straight into his brown eyes. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t interrupt. I was just—.” 

   “Sit. Down.” It’s not a question but a demand.

   You purse your lips and take the empty seat while several of the students snicker and whisper to each other. 

   Great. Now you’re really blushing. 

   You take a look around the classroom while Joel continues his lesson, flicking his wand to turn to the next slide overhead. The room is dim, curtains drawn so only the floating candles and twinkling lights from hanging lamps fill the room. A dragon’s skeleton is displayed in the back of the room, his mahogany desk covered in neat papers, dark artifacts, and ink quills. Banners of the forbidden forest and creatures of the black lake are spread high across the elegant stone walls. A dusty chandelier with glittering crystals tops off the room, painting golden sparkles on the ceiling. 

   The room is very him. Dark, divine, mysterious, gorgeous. It even fucking smells like him. Cedar wood, mahogany, green apples, whiskey. The room has his trademark all over it.

   You sit back against the wooden chair and watch the way he commands a room. The slight flick of his wand every time he paces back and forth, his rapt attention each time a student answers or asks a question, the way his thick fingers glide through his tousled curls, the way his gaze always seems to come back to you. 

   Werewolf facts slip from his tongue. Their history, their patterns, their targets. One of your favorite creatures to learn about. Especially when it’s coming from him and his deep, magnetic voice.

   It’s like the room turns ten degrees hotter with every minute that passes. Sweat pricks behind the back of your neck, your thighs warm as you cross a leg over your knee, your black skirt of your dress hiking up a little too high, your heart thundering against your chest. 

   You’re a fucking mess because you’re watching him. Twitching, jittering, and shifting every other minute in your seat. He fucking loves to watch you squirm, too. You can see him smirking from the front of the classroom, and it’s all for you.

   “Can anyone tell me what’s the cure for a werewolf bite?” he asks, pacing the room back and forth, eyeing each student with a patient glance.

   His footsteps echo around the cascading room, his hands behind his back, a slight tick in his jaw when no one answers.

   “There’s a cure?” one of the students questions, heads whipping around to face the baffled third year with confusion written all over her innocent face.

   “Yes,” Joel says with a clipped tone. “C’mon. Think. What two things can cure a werewolf bite?”

   Nothing. Not even a peep comes from the copious amount of students in the room. Just eyes to the ground and awkward shifting in their seats. None of them know.

   “Collin?” Joel asks, standing in front of the blonde boy’s chair. His scared blue eyes give away that he’s intimidated and doesn’t know the answer.

   “Umm. I—ugh. Gillyweed?” he guesses, lifting his hopeful eyes when he thinks he may be right.

   “No,” Joel snaps. “Gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater. It does not cure a werewolf bite. Maybe read the text next time before class and then you’d know.” Joel narrows his eyes at Collin, and the scared third year looks down in shame. 

   God. He really intimidates everyone. Doesn’t he?

   “Think. What. Cures. The. Bite.” He accentuates every syllable, draws it out with a deep growl, narrows his eyes into thin slits when nobody can answer. He looks like he’s about to snap with how tight he’s holding his wand. But before he does, you decide to answer.

   “Silver and dittany,” you respond, and then the students turn with wide eyes. Right in your direction. You slide down in your chair just a little to alleviate the embarrassment of all eyes on you. 

   Joel turns to you and smirks, his eyes turning darker with every second that ticks by. It’s like he’s staring right through your soul, sucking it out until every single bit belongs to him. 

   “Clever girl,” he whispers. Just loud enough for you to hear because it was meant directly for you, not the class. His eyes flash onyx as he stares your way, heat rising in your cheeks. But in the next second, his eyes are elsewhere. 

   “Could learn a thing or two if you paid attention to your professor in Herbology,” he growls, the closed windows rumbling as his deep voice booms through the large corridor. It’s enough to make goosebumps prickle down the length of your arms.

   The students shake and quiver in their seats, eyes casted down to the dark material of the floor. And in the next five minutes, Joel’s dismissing them.

   “Remember, read chapters ten through twelve before the end of the week. And for the love of Salazar, pay attention in your classes. All of them. Class dismissed,” he clips, teeth bared and jaw clenched.

   The students hurry and filter out of the classroom, black robes flying as they scurry off out of the wrath of Professor Miller. 

   As you get up to make your way out to the hall, he stops you. “Not you.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

   You freeze, just a few feet from the doorway. And then he takes his wand and shuts the heavy doors with a bang that makes you jump from the sound.

   Alone. You’re alone with him. In his classroom, on his free hour. And suddenly, the room is stifling.

   “So. You like to listen in on my lessons now, don’t ya?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, large biceps clinging to the white button-up shirt, his green striped tie loose around his neck.

   “I—uhh.” You’re all of a sudden completely speechless as he stands in front of you, his woodsy scent making you dizzy with need.

   “You don’t gotta play coy, sweetheart. Know you sit out there listenin’ all the time,” he smiles, flashing his white teeth and making you blush at the name sweetheart.

   His Southern drawl always made you a little worked up.

   “Why didn’t you say anything then if you knew?” you ask, eyebrows threaded together, lips pursed tight. 

   “Figured I’d jus’ let ya indulge. If you know what I mean,” he smirks, giving you a seductive wink that sends heat to your cheeks.

   He’s always so fucking cunning. Quick comebacks that could send you down to your knees. Maybe that’s what he wants.

   “You’re unbelievable. You know that?” you spit, hands on your hips, waiting for him to say something smart back.

   “Am I?” He quirks a brow, steps closer where you can practically taste his strong cologne. And that’s it. You’re so done for.

   “Yes.” You stand your ground firm. Eyes icy as you look at his fiery ones.

   Jesus. The man could burn this entire castle down with one stare.

   “How so?” he asks curiously, eyeing you with heightened interest.

   “Why don’t you ask Priscilla? You know, since she’s always hanging around you.” You roll your eyes, shake your head, and throw your hair behind your shoulders with a glare. Like that’ll show him you mean business.

   “Don’t do that,” he says quietly, brown eyes trained on you. 

   “Don’t do what?” you ask, anger boiling on the back of your tongue. 

   “Stop bein’ fuckin’ jealous,” he growls, his large hands hovering over yours, heat simmering between the small space between the two of you. Just like a sweltering sauna. You can practically feel the flames licking at your skin. All over you.

   “Then stop flirting with her right in front of me,” you glower, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He just laughs at you like you just said the funniest joke in the world. He can’t be fucking serious.

   “You know I only do it to get a rise out of you,” he smiles, painting your cheeks crimson at how smitten you feel when you see that deep dimple appear in the corner of his left cheek when he’s smiling. But nevertheless, he’s not getting off that easy. Not today, at least.

   “Oh, don’t I fucking know,” you scoff, your heel digging into the hard surface of the floor. Showing just how much he’s getting under your skin. 

   “You know, you’re pretty adorable when you’re all flustered. You know that?” He brushes the back of his palm against your jawline, barely touching you but setting you completely on fire.

   You bat his hand away, fix him with a tight-lipped scowl. “Flustered? That’s why you torture me day after day?”

   He nods his head and smirks, letting his big ego fly around the room like a barn owl. “Mhm. Like you all worked up. Probably makes you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Bet you touch yourself at night jus’ thinkin’ of me.” And there’s that damn smirk. The one that’s got your stomach all tied in knots.

   “You’re such an asshole,” you scoff as you push at his broad chest, but he barely moves an inch. He’s like a thick brick wall that you just can’t seem to penetrate. No matter what you do. 

   “You fuckin’ love it, though,” he challenges, brown eyes turning into dreamy bedroom eyes.

   No, you’re not doing this. You’re not playing his game.

   “No. And I’m leaving.” You turn with the flip of your hair, stomping your way up the row of empty desks. And when your hand wraps around the gold-threaded doorknob, you feel the faint buzz of power permeate around your body.

   “The hell you are,” he growls. “Accio!” 

   It feels like an invisible string wraps around your entire body, and suddenly you’re being pulled back by a sharp tug. Your body whisks through the air, and you have no power to stop the force.

   He snakes his arms around your waist, tugging you against his broad chest, catching you before you go flying into his lavish desk. You gasp, the air knocked from your lungs as his warm breath fans over your lips. Green apples and whiskey serenade your senses, and suddenly you’re a ragdoll in his arms. There at his beck and call, whatever he needs. You’re done for.

   “That’s cheating,” you whisper, voice barely audibly as your throat closes up the closer he brings you against his large body.

   “It ain’t cheatin’. It’s called magic, sweetheart,” he winks, making an exaggerated groan pull from your lips. 

   He’s always so smooth. Like a cold glass of neat whiskey that runs straight to your stomach, ending in your core. 

   “What are you doing, Joel?” you sigh, giving up the fight. You stop shoving against him and relax, your body still against his.

   “Givin’ in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, one hand hovering against your lower back. Right at the end of the zipper of your dress.

   “Like you gave into Priscilla?” you spit out, narrowed eyes trained right on him. You’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine one of these days. Drive him crazy like he drives you mad every single fucking day.

   “Now hold on there,” he says with a pause, sliding one of his hands up to your wrist, holding it tight against his chest. “I never even laid a finger on Priscilla.”

   Your jaw drops, and you wag a finger at him. “You sure about that? Because she has a pretty loud mouth.”

   “She ain’t the one I want, sweetheart. And you should know that.” He fixes you with a deep stare. His eyes look like glowing, syrupy orbs. You’re pretty sure you want to get lost in them. Let them drag you down into their dark depths where you’ll never see daylight again.

   “Oh? And who is it that you want?” you whisper, voice suddenly shaky and nervous. 

   When he nods down toward you, you nearly crumble at his feet. “The only woman I wanna be touchin’ is the pretty Hufflepuff that’s all flustered in my arms.” His smile makes you lose your balance, but he just holds you tighter. Fingers curling against the soft cotton of your dress, burning your skin even from the layers that cover you. 

   He might as well cast Incendio on you. You’re already burning.

   “You’re such a tease,” you giggle, pushing him playfully in the chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt cling to your skin.

   “That I am,” he chuckles, making you nearly hyperventilate at his cocky demeanor. He knows he’s slick; you’ll give him that.

   “I need to get to class,” you sigh, trying to break free of his grip, but he only holds you tighter. No escaping him.

   “No, you don’t. You don’t have class for another hour. And neither do I.”

   The sudden realization hits you like an oncoming train. He’s got you trapped in his web, ready to sink his teeth in you at any second.

   The dim lights seem to darken even more as the thick tension blows through the classroom. Silence takes over, and you’re left with nothing but your racing heartbeat and his shallow breath. Warmth pools through your core as you watch those smoldering brown eyes light your skin on fire.

   You’re wrecked.

   “Well, I just—.” You try to take a step back, but then his hands run down your arms slowly, goosebumps taking hold in every single place he leaves his mark. 

   “Why don’t you jus’ relax here for a bit? Can think of somethin’ to unwind that pretty mind of yours.”

   He starts slowly circling you. Calloused fingers running over your back. Warm breath blowing down the base of your neck. Lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp at the contact. 

   “I don’t think so, Joel. I—.” You stop talking the moment he moves your hair across your right shoulder. His lips drag down the side of your neck, barely grazing but enough to make warmth flood through your lace.

   “C’mon now. Know you want this. Know you want my touch.” He takes a hand and moves it around the front of your waist. “My fingers.” He brushes his hand lightly down your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. “My lips.” He molds his mouth around your collarbone and sucks, eliciting a moan from your lips.

   “Oh. That’s… oh.” He nips at your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down just enough to make contact with your skin. And fuck, it feels good.

   You want to run, say no, give him hell for the hell he’s given you. But you’re a moth drawn to the flame. And you have no will to say no to him. 

   “Give in, sweetheart. Give in to the dark side. Know you want to,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as the sweet incantations put a spell on you.

   “I uhh—yes…” you lull as he turns you around and pushes you back into the front of his desk. His large stature towering over you. Hands on either side of the desk, caging you into him.

   “Say it. Say you want this. That you want me.” His mouth hovers over yours, blows hot air where you can basically taste the whiskey that encompasses his tongue. And you feel it then. That thick bulge against your thigh. Letting you know just how hard he is for you. And fuck, you think you might pass out from how stifling the room is now.

   “I—.” He slowly cups the back of your thighs and lifts you up, right on the edge of his mahogany desk, legs dangling from the position. He takes his wand and starts spreading your legs until he’s standing between them, one hand skimming over the top of your shaking thigh. Then he throws his wand to the side of the desk, uses his hands to undress you. Starting with your skirt. He lifts it slowly over your hips, leaving you with your white lace panties exposed to the cool air, completely soaked through.

   He rakes a hand heavily down his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the mess you’ve made. “Look at you. Fuckin’ soakin’ for me, sweetheart. This all for me?” he asks, his thumb brushing over your wet center, pressing against your slick-clothed folds.

   “Yes,” you whine as he slowly unzips the back, pushing the dress down until it’s a messy pile on the floor. He unclasps the matching lace bra, throwing that to the side, leaving your perky breasts on full display for him to indulge in.

   He licks his bottom lip seductively slow, practically drooling as he takes in the sight of you all sprawled out and bare for him. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the vision of you open and ready for him.

   His mouth drags down your throat, down your chest until his lips suctions to your breasts, tongue flicking the pebbled nipples, eliciting more slick in your lace panties.

   “Say you want this, sweetheart. Say you want me,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees like he’s worshiping a goddess, hands roaming up your inner thighs, teasing you relentlessly. He slips under your lace, one finger brushing over your clit. You’re a writhing mess beneath him at this point.

   “Oh, fuck. Yes. Want you. Need you, Professor Miller,” you mewl, bucking your hips up to get the friction you so desperately need.

   “Good girl,” he praises, slowly dragging your ruined lace to the floor, leaving you open and bare and dripping for him.

   “Fuck,” he curses, raking a hand down his scruff, eyes lust-blown as he takes you in nice and slow. He’s mesmerized by the beauty before him, and he’s memorizing every single detail about your glistening body. He thinks you’re a fucking angel. All pliant and ready for him. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

   From the carnal, possessive way he’s looking at you, you’re pretty sure he’ll save this memory for another time. Bottle it up so he can go back and watch it over and over again, until he sees nothing but you with every waking breath he breathes.

   He materializes in front of you, casting dark shadows all over the silhouette of the walls, tongue dragging up your inner thigh, his thumb teasing the outer edge of your drenched folds.

   “Fuck, Joel,” you mewl, bucking your hips up in the hopes of his lips landing on your mound.

   “Patience, baby. And call me Professor Miller. Love how it sounds falling off your pretty lips,” he chuckles, tongue barely scraping over your needy clit.

   You suck in a breath and grab the crown of his head, locking your fingers in his soft hair. Tousled sandy locks and glittering greys catching the light of the twinkling lamps floating in the room. He looks like a masterpiece.

   “Please, Professor Miller. Need you,” you beg, his hot breath fanning across your aching core. You’re burning for him. 

   “Yeah ya do. Dirty little Hufflepuff,” he chuckles, blowing a puff of warmth over your mound. Slick runs down your inner thighs, and his eyes blow into deep pools of black lust. “Think you might have a little Slytherin in you after all,” he smirks, gliding his thumb through your slick folds and eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth.

   “Slyther—ohhh,” you groan as he licks a thick stripe up the entirety of your core. 

   Suddenly, the room is spinning, and you can’t find your balance. You’ll just fall off the edge as long as Joel catches you. You think he will.

   “That’s right. Take it. Let the temptation consume you. Let me slither in and make you come undone,” he drawls out in a husky breath, making you moan at the sound of his deep timbre.

   It’s like you’re cast under a deep spell. Pulling you under, consuming you in copious amounts of pleasure, starlight flashing as your eyes roll back with every flick of his tongue to your puffy clit.

   He tugs you to the very edge of the smooth desk and wraps his arms tightly around your thighs, stretching you open as he ravishes and drowns in the slick of your core. His experienced tongue lapping at your folds. His lips suction around your mound as he pulls you into his warm mouth, sucking and groaning with every taste of you. 

   You drag your nails over the wooden desk, throwing your head back with every lick, every taste he gives you. And God, you feel like you’re flying. His mouth, his tongue, his dirty words, his whole entire aura make you want to lose control. He’s everything all at once, and you don’t know how you’ll ever get enough of him now. 

   He coaxes you on, filling your ears with delicious praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like that. Don’t you, filthy Hufflepuff?”

   “Yeah…” you choke out, voice raspy as you delve into the feeling of his smooth tongue igniting a wildfire in your core.

   “Don’t be shy then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” he demands as he lets go of your puffy clit with a pop, his tongue generously lapping at your drenched folds.

   “The door—we can’t…” you whine.

   He lifts off his knees, hovers his body against yours, and starts to work you as he slides his middle and ring finger inside your dripping hole. 

   Oh, fuck.

   “Door’s locked tight, sweetheart,” he smirks, lust-blown eyes locked on you, his lips brushing over yours.

   “They’ll—ohh. They’ll hear us.” His free hand slides up your waist as his body leans against the desk, his mouth roaming up the crook of your neck.

   “Nah, they won’t. Not when I placed a silencing charm on the room,” he chuckles as his tongue traces the slope of your ear, sending more slick down your thighs.

   Of course he fucking did. You didn’t even hear him cast one. He’s just… that good. 

   “C’mon, messy Hufflepuff. Want you to come for me,” he drawls, his fingers tantalizing and penetrating as he works them nice and slow inside you, knuckles deep in your slick. 

   Fuck.

   Squelching noises fill the room each time he works you over, searching for that one spot that’ll send you over the edge. But God, he found it. And now, he won’t fucking stop hitting that spongy wall that makes your legs shake and voice cry out in orgasmic pleasure.

   “Joel, I’m…”

   “Professor,” he whispers in your ear, his enchanting voice floating through your mind, pulling you over the edge. 

   “Professor—” you hum, your fingers pushing through the sandy hair at the base of his neck, mouth dropped as pleasure starts to rock through you uncontrollably.

   “Yes?” he asks with a bite to his deep voice.

   “I—I’m…”

   His plush lips caress the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. “Come for me, pretty girl. Say my name. Tell me who makes you feel good,” he whispers deliciously slow, his melodic voice making you fall apart. “Let go. C’mon, baby. Do it for me.”

   One more curl of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You clench around his thick fingers and let yourself spill for him, covering his knuckles in your slick while you moan his name. “Professor Miller!” It falls off your tongue and rings around the room, echoing back as you lose all control.

   “That’s my good girl,” he praises as he takes you over the edge, slowly working his fingers up and down, letting you ride out your orgasm as tidal waves collide in your body. 

   When the room stops spinning and your vision isn’t blurry anymore, you sit back and stare at him in awe. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, obviously proud he made you just cum on his fingers. He’s waited so long to do it. All while teasing and tormenting you so he could make it that much better for you. 

   You should hate him, but you don’t. Oh no. You think you’re addicted to him now. 

   “That feel good?” he asks. His palm sliding over your thigh, thumb massaging slow circles into the crease of your skin. It feels… good — calming.

   He feels good.

   “Yeah. That was—nice,” you finish, eyes peeking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are nearly dazzling under the dim lights. Almost like there’s stars soaring through those gold-flecked irises. 

   You stare at each other for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. And in the next moment, without thinking, you’re grabbing his emerald tie and pulling it toward you. Heat rises in the air as your fingertips scratch down his patchy scruff, indulging in his woodsy cologne. Your lips graze just slightly against his, and flames erupt in his eyes. 

   “Haven’t had enough?” he teases as he pulls your hair softly, lifting your face up to his. His lips brush softly against yours, and it’s like everything seems right in the world. 

   Your breath comes out hot and uneven as you stir beneath him, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. You haven’t tasted him yet, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this chance. 

   You lift your chin just a smidge higher until you’re practically magnetized to him. “No, Professor Miller. Haven’t had enough yet,” you mewl out, your head dizzy and disoriented.

   He cups the back of your head and smiles, that devilish smirk curling against his mouth. “Then let me show you jus’ how good a Slytherin can make a Hufflepuff feel.”

   He pulls your lips to his and kisses you fiercely, passion consuming you whole. You kiss him back just as desperate, needing to be as close to him as possible. When you open your mouth and invite him in, whiskey and green apples envelop your tastebuds. And you swear you’ve never tasted a better combination. 

   As he pushes you down against his desk, papers fly off in scatters, glass crashes to the ground. Never mind that, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered. Right now, all he’s focused on is you. 

   He crawls over you, crowding you with his broad body, his hands roaming up and down your bare skin as if he wants to crawl inside himself, claim you as his own. 

   You frantically pull at his buttons while he helps you unfasten them, quickly throwing his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Dark hair splatters his tanned chest, his happy trail disappearing beneath his black slacks. And God, he’s as hard as a rock underneath. You can see the massive outline of him. 

   He rocks his hips against yours, tongues tangling together as you drink each other down. You could get drunk on the sweet taste of him. You’re pretty sure he’s better than any butter beer you’ve ever tasted. 

   Your body hums with desire, tension coiling in your stomach. You want him, need him like you need air to breathe. You want to feel him inside you. Grinding and thrusting until you combust around him. Until you feel his seed drip down your thighs. You’ve never wanted it this bad with anyone. But with Joel? You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

   “Professor Miller, please,” you beg as you palm him through his slacks, an audible groan getting lost in between kisses. 

   “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Wanna hear it,” he slurs as he nips at your lower lip.

   You find his top button and snap it open, finding his zipper next as you drag it down slowly. “Want you inside me, Professor,” you whisper provocatively, leaving your shyness behind just for the moment. 

   He winces as you reach in and start to work his massive cock up and down, spreading precum down his shaft. A quiet groan slips out of his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. “Fuck me. This little filthy Hufflepuff wants it bad, don’t she?” he grins, eyes dancing like moonlit stars. 

   He’s so fucking pretty. 

   “Mmm. Yes. Please. I need it. Need you,” you beg. 

   He shoves your hand out of the way and pins it above your head, shoving his slacks and boxers down until he’s completely naked above you. 

   You gawk at how massive he is. Thick, beautiful, long. Precum beads his swollen red tip. Large veins spiral like vines on the underside of his cock. He’s so big; you don’t know how he’ll fit. But you know he’ll make it fit. Stretch you until you can’t take anymore. 

   He’s going to absolutely ruin you, and you’ll let him. You want him to destroy you. 

   He lines the angry tip up with your sex, stroking it up and down along your folds, gathering your slick on his cock as you purr at the feeling. If this feels good then being inside you might end you.

   “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take real good care of this pretty Hufflepuff pussy,” he smirks darkly, eyes as black as coal. 

   He teases you slowly, dragging the tip through your folds. And when you’re about to beg for more, he thrusts deep inside with a low growl. 

   Your mouth drops open in awe as he stretches you to the max, working his thick length inside you over and over again until you start seeing stars in your vision. He’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in two; his pleasure driving yours to the finish line. 

   “Professor,” you moan as he thrusts deeper, kissing the back of your cervix. His large hands push your legs back against the wood of the desk, in a twisted pretzel shape. And when he snaps his hips again, you let out a guttural moan that doesn’t even sound like your lilty voice. 

   “That’s it. Let me hear you. Look so pretty with my cock deep inside you,” he chuckles as he drills into you as deep as he can, digging his way to your release. 

   “I—I…” Your voice fades off into a garbled mess as he fucks you relentlessly, speeding up his thrusts until the desk is shaking beneath you. 

   The squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your slick and the deep, gruff groans coming out of his mouth are almost barbaric. He’s completely wrecked just as you are. Two souls enchanted to run away in the darkness. Get lost in the indescribable pleasure of each other.

   You feel yourself nearing another climax as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours in a dance you can’t stop. He swallows your moans with each snap of his hips, his fingers toying with your overstimulated clit until you’re gasping for breath underneath him. 

   He disconnects from your lips and stares at you with pitch black eyes, ready to consume all of you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock. Let me feel you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. And the sound of that deep, melodic tone makes you want to spill right then. 

   “I—Professor Miller. I’m gonna…”

   He drags his tongue along the edge of your ear and leans in close, his voice like silk. “C’mon, beautiful. Let go. Trust me. Feel me. Squeeze me. Show me how much I make you feel good. My pretty little Hufflepuff. My girl…”

   That right there sends you over. One more press of his thumb to your clit and you’re falling off the edge. It’s like a choir of angels surrounds the dark ceiling, your ears ringing as you cry his name at the top of your lungs. You can’t think, can’t speak. You can only writhe beneath him as you come back down to earth while he calls you a good girl over and over again. He could say it a hundred times, and you’d never tire of it. 

   “Fuck. That’s my good girl,” he praises, fucking into you harder. His breath ragged and untame. His curls stick to his sweat-coated forehead, his black eyes widen, and you feel him start to fall apart. 

   “I’m not gonna fuckin’ last much longer, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” he asks breathlessly. 

   “Inside me, Professor Miller,” you beg. At the sound of his name, he throws his head back and groans loudly as he spills his warm seed inside you. Painting your walls white with the Slytherin essence of him. Claiming you as his own. 

   He falls on his back against the side of the desk and pulls you tight against his chest. And then the two of you just breathe each other’s air until one of you is strong enough to push up from the dark mahogany desk. You’re the first one to move. 

   You quickly throw on your dress and cast a charm to freshen up. You don’t need your students knowing what you and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor have been up to.

   Just as you start to smooth your hair out, you feel Joel brushing up against your back. His woodsy scent slithering its way down your spine, encapsulating your entire being as you start to fall into a deep trance again. You lean back and let him wrap his strong arms around your waist, his tempting lips kissing their way down the column of your neck. 

   “What are you doin’ later tonight?” he whispers smoothly, lingering his lips over your smooth skin. You feel his smoldering brown eyes piercing right through you, starting a fire deep in your core.

   If he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up right back where you were just seconds ago. On your back with Joel fucking Miller hovering over your body. Pulling you apart thread by thread. And you’d let him. God, you’d burn down this entire room and let him fuck you through the flames that licked at your skin. You’d burn for him.

   “Was going to lesson plan and maybe read a book,” you gulp as he spins you around, your speech suddenly slurring as he tempts you with dark eyes. Eyes that’ll swallow you whole.

   “Well, how ‘bout you lesson plan from my bed?” He quirks up a thick brow and plants a smug grin on his plush lips. Lips that taste like firewhisky. 

   “I don’t think I could get anything done there,” you laugh, a crimson blush staining your cheeks.

   “Not lesson plannin’, no. Maybe we could open the Chamber of Secrets. Get you moanin’ and speakin’ in tongues before the night is through,” he smirks devilishly, licking his bottom lip enticingly slow.

   God, he’s such a tease. 

   “You’re a bad, wicked man, Professor Miller.” You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest, taking a step back until he wraps a big hand around your wrist and pulls you back into his broad chest.

   “Don’t you forget it, baby,” he chuckles, fanning his hot breath over your lips. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

   “You’re going to make me late for my next class,” you sigh, letting him gather you in his arms as his warmth consumes you. 

   “Then be late…” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. Damn him and his plush, tempting lips. He tastes better than any sweet treat you’ve had in Hogsmeade.

   “You’re a bad influence on me,” you tsk, throwing your arms around his neck. Screw it. You’re already hooked on him. Might as well just give in to his lustful temptations.

   “Tryin’ to be,” he chuckles as he brushes a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, lingering the back of his hand against your jawline. The tension suddenly thick around the dimly lit room once again. But really, it never left in the first place.

   You graze your lips against his and give him a lasting kiss, fingers tangled in the messy curls you so desperately love to lace your fingers through. It feels like velvet as the silvery strands comb through your fingers.

   You disconnect from his mouth and smile sweetly up at him, pushing off his strong chest. “Okay, handsome. I gotta go.”

   “See you tonight, pretty Hufflepuff.” He lingers his calloused fingers around your wrist and holds you there, just so he can memorize what you look like under the moonlit lamps of his classroom. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

   “Pretty, huh?” You give him a shy smile and feel your cheeks growing bright red.

   He nods, brown eyes alight with wonder. “Baby, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

   Oh.

   “You’re not so bad looking yourself, handsome,” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a swift kiss to the top of your knuckles. And there you go blushing again like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

   “Careful now. Start talkin’ like that, and I’ll jus’ have to make you mine,” he warns with a smirk, the crow’s feet making his eyes sparkle like onyx crystals as starlight dances across his pretty eyes. 

   “So make me yours…” you whisper, hand dropping to your side. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head, back of his hand skimming down your blush-coated cheek. “You’re already mine, beautiful girl.”

   “Yours…” you repeat in awe.

   “Mmm. Mine.” He lets you backup a couple steps, reluctant to let you go just yet. “See ya tonight, baby.”

   As you pace back to the door and hover your hand over the golden handle, you turn back to him and smile. “Try not to think about me too much until then, Professor Miller.” 

   He rakes a hand slowly through his tousled curls, adjusting his loose tie around his neck. “Oh, babygirl. That’s the only thing that’s gonna be on my mind till I see you.”

   His brown flecked eyes hold yours for just a few seconds and then you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the troublemaker that’s got your heart racing a million miles an hour. 

   You’re thoroughly, completely enraptured with Professor Miller. And you fear you won’t be able to get enough of him. 

   As you walk down the now stirring hallway, dodging chatty students, you think of those captivating dark eyes. Those smoldering, beautiful eyes. Just a few more hours until you’re in his arms again, until he’s making you come undone all over again. 

   You’d let him unravel you. Make you his with every touch, every kiss, every breath. You never expected to fall for a Slytherin but here you were. Tripping and stumbling to get one more taste of him. 

   You’d never get enough. This Hufflepuff belonged to a Slytherin now. Professor Miller. The bad boy who got the good girl. 

   He was your Amortentia, and you were his.

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Test Results

CONTENT WARNING: Blood and disease (medical setting)

Masterpost | Previous | Next

Summary:

Twilight, Nurse Redheart, and Spike go over Big Mac's blood test results, from which they glean some new information:

1: The sickness presents differently in different kinds of pony.

2: Only ponies are able to catch it.

3: Alicorns may be at especial risk.

Transcript below:

Title Page:

Plague Ponies Episode 8: "Test Results"

Nurse Redheart returns from Canterlot to share her findings with Twilight Sparkle. With the addition of Big Mac's test results, a theory begins to form...

Content Warnings: Blood and disease in a medical setting

Comic Start

Beneath the Golden Oak Library

Nurse Redheart: Can you see alright?

Twilight Sparkle nods and gestures affirmatively with her wing. Spike stands at her side, quill and clipboard at the ready.

Nurse Redheart points to the side of Big Macintosh's neck. He is laid out on a raised cot in a padded room.

Nurse Redheart: The best vein to draw from is the jugular vein right here. If you're not sure, you can use the topography spell I showed you. Feeling with your hooves works just as well, but we're truing to limit contact as much as possible.

Nurse Redheart demonstrates the steps to be taken when drawing blood. Step 1: Disinfect. Step 2: Prepare to insert (the needle).

Big Macintosh looks nervous.

Nurse Redheart: You're doing very well, Big Mac. You're just going to feel a little pinch...

Nurse Redheart prepares the needle. While she's turned away, Big Macintosh mouths to Twilight Sparkle and Spike,

Big Macintosh, silently: Help...

Twilight Sparkle, silently: Sorry...

Spike: You did tell him there would be needles involved, right?

Twilight Sparkle: ...

Nurse Redheart: If you've got the vein, you'll see the blood travel up the tube right away. Sometimes it's a little tricky, but Big Mac here has great veins.

Nurse Redheart finishes up and puts a plaster on Big Macintosh's neck. Big Macintosh lets out a sigh of relief.

Nurse Redheart: We're just taking five samples today. You did wonderfully, dear. All done!

Nurse Redheart pulls out a star sticker as a reward. Big Macintosh is very happy with his sticker.

Nurse Redheart: And we'll have the results ready in a few days.

Twilight Sparkle: Wow~

Big Macintosh: Before we finish up here...could you let my family know I'm alright? And tell Applejack this isn't her fault. Knowing her, she'll be beatin' herself up for my getting hurt.

Twilight Sparkle: ...

Spike looks up to Twilight Sparkle. Nurse Redheart exits Big Macintosh's room with his blood.

Twilight Sparkle: Of course.

Big Macintosh: Thank you, princess! Thank you!

Twilight Sparkle walks away from the observation window, looking miserable.

Spike: Would it be so bad to let the Apples visit?

Twilight Sparkle: Well...

Before Twilight Sparkle can elaborate, Nurse Redheart interrupts. Twilight Sparkle brightens immediately.

Nurse Redheart: Are you ready for the blood analysis Spell?

Twilight Sparkle: Yes! I've got it all figured out! It's been so long since I've had to study a layered-function spell...I had so much fun getting it to work just right!

Nurse Redheart is taken aback, but not displeased, by Twilight Sparkle's enthusiasm.

Nurse Redheart: It's good you enjoy it. With so few unicorns trained in medical magic here, it's likely you'll have to know it well. In fact, how would you feel about training a few more of our staff?

Twilight Sparkle: I would love to!

Twilight Sparkle casts a spell on the blood testing machine and sets it spinning. The blood in the tubes begin to separate.

Nurse Redheart: Perfect! Just keep that up for five minutes.

Spike: This is cool and all...but why are we spinning Big Mac's blood again?

Nurse Redheart walks Spike to the other side of the counter, where a small monitor is hooked up to the machine Twilight Sparkle is spinning.

Nurse Redheart: The centrifugal force separates the blood into readable parts. This way, we can get more accurate information...which we read from this machine!

Nurse Redheart reads the monitor screen.

Nurse Redheart: And look here, there's antibody presence in his blood!

Nurse Redheart leans closer to Spike to whisper to him.

Nurse Redheart: His body is learning how to fight the virus.

Spike: Ohh...

Twilight Sparkle: That's great news!

Nurse Redheart: I'll get more eyes on this so we can confirm what I'm reading. I'm also seeing an unusual presence of magic and protein in his blood. I think this confirms our theory, princess.

Twilight Sparkle: So it really is compromising his magic system, then?

Nurse Redheart: Yes, it's pretty clear now that we've observed an earth pony patient. Earth pony magic is directly connected to the muscles, so magical viruses sometimes cause muscle atrophy in earth ponies.

Nurse Redheart and Twilight walk over to a board.

Nurse Redheart: How was he feeling this morning?

Twilight Sparkle thinks back to the early morning, when she secretly bandaged up Big Macintosh's leg in the barn before getting him to the Golden Oak.

Spike: Achey all over, pretty tired. He's bored, too.

Nurse Redheart: And his bite wound?

Twilight Sparkle: Nothing much has changed. It's been flushed out and there's no swelling, but it won't close.

Spike: It's only been a day, maybe it's just too early? It was a pretty nasty bite...

Nurse Redheart: Even still, it's unusual for an earth pony patient's wound to show no change after a full day cycle. I'm almost certain the virus targets pony magic.

Twilight Sparkle: You saw similar symptoms in your unicorn patient?

Nurse Redheart thinks back to Fleur De Lis as she last saw her.

Nurse Redheart: Of sorts. That patient's symptoms were more aggressive. We think the virus may have targeted her horn root.

Twilight Sparkle: ...We'll need more data points of how the symptoms differ between different kinds of pony...

Nurse Redheart: Yes. Let me show you what notes I have so far. Is...Spike okay to see this?

Spike: I can handle it!

Nurse Redheart: ....Alright.

Nurse Redheart turns on a projector.

"Unicorn Magic System:

The magic system and nervous system are closely linked in all pony kind. The magic of a unicorn is in highest concentrations within the horn root and cutie mark.

Due to this, the first indications of infection in unicorns manifest in the form of positional headaches, pressure behind the eyes, photosensitivity, nausea, and swelling of the sinuses and lymph nodes."

"Virus Progression in Unicorns:

"The virus co-opts the unicorn's magic. Veins will discolor as they are burned by involuntary surges of magic. Patient will experience increased discomfort, irritability, followed by confusion, and eventual anterograde amnesia and apraxia.

By this point, the patient's immune system is also compromised. Combined with the increased likelihood of self-injury, small cuts and bruises may deteriorate into larger complications very quickly. Patients at this stage should be under constant supervision."

"Earth Pony Magic System:

The magic system and nervous system are closely linked in all pony kind. The magic system of an earth pony is distributed all throughout the muscles."

Nurse Redheart: I suspect that magic surges also occur in earth ponies, but are not observable as the magical veins are further below the skin. My greatest concern is with the heart. As it is one of the most vital muscles of the body, I want Big Mac's blood oxygen and fatigue closely monitored. Absolutely no unnecessary physical exertion.

Twilight Sparkle: Do you think we'll have to keep him down here for the rest of his observation?

Spike: Yeah...he did charge straight out of his sick bed to help the others in the orchard.

Nurse Redheart: He was sick even before the bite?

Twilight Sparkle: Yes. There's been a cold going through town lately. He was mostly recovered by the time he was bitten, though.

Nurse Redheart: I see...It's strange not to see any signs of other pathogens when he was so recently sick.

Spike: Earth ponies are fast healers, right? Big Mac must just be that strong!

Nurse Redheart: ...Sure.

"Pegasus Magic System:

The magic system and nervous system are closely linked in all pony kind. The magic of a pegasus is in highest concentrations within the lungs, wings, and cutie mark."

Nurse Redheart: We haven't had the chance to monitor any pegasi yet, but I can guess at respiratory issues being a problem.

A pegasus is in bed, looking out the window at his bedside.

Nurse Redheart: A pegasus patient recently agreed to go under observation, so we'll have more answers soon.

Spike: If catching this sickness affects every kind of pony differently, what about alicorns?

Nurse Redheart: Well, since alicorns have the attributes of every kind of pony...they may exhibit all of these symptoms as well.

Spike: WHAT?!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike...

Nurse Redheart: Well,. we can't be quite sure just yet!...

Twilight Sparkle: Don't worry, Spike, I'll be sure to take every precaution. But I am curious...how come we know so little about such a dangerous illness? Have we never seen something like this before?

Nurse Redheart: Excellent question! This appears to be a very, very old kind of virus. It hasn't been seen in living ponies in, well, ever! It actually appears to be targeting the magical signature of horn snails.

Spike (confused), and Twilight Sparkle (excited): Horn snails?!

Spike: What do snails have to do with all of this?

Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, I know this one!

"Magic History 101:

A long, long time ago, the world was full of free-roaming magic like the Everfree Forest is today. It was a chaotic time full of unpredictable magic.

Some creatures, like the horn snail, developed sturdy bodies designed to harness this potent energy.

It became advantageous for the slow-moving creatures to cooperate with more mobile creatures in exchange for their magical ability.

The horn snails worked so closely with the prototypical pony that they eventually became one creature.

Different branches of ponies appeared from this partnership. Some ponies channeled magic through their horns, some through their bodies, and others through the power of extended levitation which later supported flight."

Spike: ...so you've got snails in you?

Twilight Sparkle: Well, sort of? My ancestors did a long, long time ago! The process is actually pretty complicated but but super interesting! I can explain it in more detail if you'd like--

Nurse Redheart: I believe that's a good enough introduction to the topic. If we could get back to the topic at hoof...

Twilight Sparkle: Ah, right. So, the main point is, if this virus targets pony magic in this way, it must be extremely old, which explains why we haven't experienced this sort of thing before.

Spike: So if this virus targets ponies, other magical species can't get sick from it?

Nurse Redheart: It's safe to assume that, yes.

Twilight Sparkle: I'll send a summary of these findings to Princess Celestia. I think this is serious enough to call for a public announcement...if not a state of emergency. Thank you for your help, Nurse Redheart. I'm sure you must be tired from your trip back from Canterlot.

Nurse Redheart: Of course, princess. I'll keep Doctor Greymare updated. He should come around with the pegasus patient later today.

Twilight Sparkle: Perfect. The tunnels to the hospital were finished the other day. You can take those stairs back as a shortcut.

Nurse Redheart is on her way back to the hospital through the new underground tunnels.

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, take a letter.

Spike doesn't answer. He reappears with a small bundle swung over his shoulder.

Twilight Sparkle: ...Spike? What are you up to?

Spike: I got out my game stuff! Since I can't catch anything from Big Mac, I thought he'd like some company.

Twilight Sparkle: That's very thoughtful, Spike. I'll write this letter myself. You should go have some fun.

Spike and Big Macintosh are having fun playing Nondescript Roleplaying Game.

Transcript ends.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer confessing to an artist reader

・❥ Lucifer gets jealous, and has to prove his love for you

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: WOW this was a rollercoaster to write. Alastor being petty, a musical number, and.. 😏 you’ll have to read and see!

warnings: Mild swearing

“Mreow?” 

You stirred slightly under the covers in your bed, waking from the noise. You were so warm and cozy, in your little nest of pillows that you hugged to your chest. Stilling yourself, you strained your ears, listening for whatever had awoken you.

“Mreooow,” came that needy, animalistic cry again.

“KeeKee?” You whispered hoarsely.

A high-pitched chirp answered your question.

Grumbling in protest, you grasped the sheets and pulled them from your face. Squinting at the morning light emanating from the large windows on the other end of the room. 

You rubbed a hand down your face, in an attempt to squeeze out the exhaustion still fogging your mind. With a sigh, you pivoted, placing your feet on the cold, wood floor beneath.

Now where was that furball? 

You scanned the room, before your eyes landed on the small black and white cyclopean cat. She sat on your nightstand, her tail swishing with happiness as you answered her call. 

“You silly kitty, what do you want so early in the morning?” You questioned her, and received another chirp as a response.

You always found it fascinating that the small feline was actually the key to the hotel, created by Lucifer’s magic as a gift to Charlie when she took over the place. 

You could feel it, even now, that warm crackle of energy as it flowed off KeeKee’s fur. It was faint, but so familiar. If you buried her face in her fur far enough, you could even smell traces of his scent. 

As you and Lucifer grew closer, so did KeeKee. She had started following around the hotel, always a few steps behind as you traveled the halls. This morning routine of hers wasn’t new either. Before, you’d open your door and find her sprawled out on the ground on her back, her belly exposed as she greeted you. 

You started leaving your door cracked after that, allowing her to enter whenever she pleased. She’d make her bed on the same cushion Lucifer was so fond of while you painted, and drift into sleep. 

Sometimes, you’d use her for practice sketches. Although you could only do so while she dreamed, as she was not as good at sitting still as Lucifer was.

It was almost as if she sensed the connection between the two of you, mirroring your bond with her own loyalty. With a soft smile, you reached out to pet KeeKee, feeling the comforting vibrations of her purrs resonating through your fingertips. 

Rising from the bed, you made your way into the small bathroom. Twisting the sink handle, you let the fountain of water flow into the drain as it is heated. 

Your eyes landed on the object next to the faucet, and you smiled unconsciously as you picked up the yellow rubber ducky. 

“Your new soap dispenser,” Lucifer had stated one evening, “Easily compactible to take it on the go and.. with the scent of apple pie.” 

He demonstrated by softly squeezing the sides of the toy, and a small glob of soap left its mouth and landed into the palm of his hand. 

You had taken it from him and lifted it to your nose, inhaling a deep breath. 

“Delectable.” You teased, before placing it on the table beside you.

After his little performance at the art studio, Lucifer’s affection towards you grew bolder by the day. He often arrived at your room with a gift or two, even more than his silly little ducks. 

Once, he brought you a small violin, the color pure angelic white with golden strings. You had stared at it in awe when he set it on the table.

“It’s white for you to paint,” Lucifer had explained, “Whatever little fantastical ideas you have to cover this instrument with, I just know it’ll be amazing.”

You had blushed, before letting your fingers glide across its smooth surface. Tracing its frame, memorizing its shape. 

“I was going to get you a fiddle, like my own. But, I believe this best suits the musical pieces you are so familiar with.”

You sat across from each other at the dining table in your room, arms resting lazily on its surface as you sipped from your glass of Spiced Apple Wine. 

That was another gift he had brought you. Claiming he only enjoyed the taste of fine-aged wine from his personal cellar. You had gotten used to its slightly sour taste by now, but you were glad for that slight pinch on your tongue. It kept you from ogling Lucifer for too long.

The only light emanating from your room was the candles placed around you, their flames dancing, casting shadows across the walls. The soft ting of piano keys thrummed in the air, flowing from a small brown radio on your dresser.

Not too long ago, Alastor had given it to you for your personal use. A very rare gift from a demon like him. You had just assumed it was his way of getting you on his side, your unease of him must’ve been apparent enough. 

Your years of attempted swindling by potential buyers for your pieces created a sixth sense, the ability to smell when someone’s words didn’t echo their intentions.

Even though you had no animosity towards him, and spoke to him frequently enough that you did not feel any kind of negative intentions from him, his mysterious past and psychopathic tendencies struck you as odd. His presence was dark and cold. 

Nothing like Lucifer’s, who’s aura was so warm and energetic you could get drunk off of it. 

Alastor’s? That would sober you up in an instant.

Why didn’t you feel the same about Lucifer? After all, he had the same charm that swooped those around him off their feet. 

‘His ability to love,’ you concluded in your head, ‘that was why.’

He showed deep care for the people close to him, while Alastor always held people at arms-length. Literally and figuratively.

Your personal feelings didn’t mean you weren’t going to use the radio, so whenever you’d hear Lucifer nearing your room, you’d switch it to polka. Learning by now that was one of his favorite genres. It played in the background as you discussed the violin.

“I think it’s best if you taught me how to play, I might have some knowledge on musical history, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about the instruments themselves.” You had conceded.

He shook his head at that, “Nonsense. If there is anyone I know that could pick up skills like this quickly, it would be you.”

“What makes you think that?” You had laughed.

“Because, you’re amazing. Talented, with passion that could take on the world. You and my daughter have more in common than you think. A drive that I wish I had.”

That had stopped your train of thought, your cheeks heating once more. Most times you would try to brush off his comments, and continue on to the next subject, even if those words made it hard for you to fall asleep that same night.

But this time, you let his words linger in the air between you. The faint glow from the candles illuminating his face, his angelic features intensifying. 

It was your turn to make a move, you couldn’t let him have all the fun.

Slowly, your hand traveled across the table, until your fingers grazed his own. Lucifer never pulled back, instead, he accepted your advance. Lacing his fingers with your own.

The two of you didn’t speak, you didn’t need to. The day could be filled with laughter and quick-wits. But, the night? That belonged to your silent bouts of affection.

Just two pairs of eyes staring out through the large open bay windows, the flickering lights from the city your own little TV. 

What was he thinking about? You had wondered. You were aware of the divorce of his wife years ago, and the fracture of his family still weighed on him. Even if his relationship with Charlie was improving the day. Did he blame himself for his family splitting? 

You had never pried him on such things, there was no reason to bring him more pain. He’d open up about it when he was ready, he always did.

Was that why he was slow to actually ask for your kindness? Your care? 

Your love? 

He was a showman, with a drive to impress strangers around him, to win them over with his charm and flare. But you weren’t a stranger, not anymore. 

There was this tiny parasite that gnawed at the back of your mind, whispering such horrid things of him leaving you if you made the first move. 

‘His pride is too great to let him be swooned completely by a lower demon,’ it hissed, ‘He just wants something casual, nothing truly real,’

Was that true? Would he reject you and move on? Surely, there were much stronger, much smarter demons than you in Hell that he could choose. 

Maybe, you’d just have to grow a backbone and ask him. 

‘Soon’, you promised.

The calming scent that wafted from the candles around the room pulled you away from such thoughts. Instead, you used your free hand to lift the wine glass to your lips, downing the remaining liquor. Your body blooming with warmth as it traveled down your throat, and your head turning fuzzy with bliss. 

A gentle thump as KeeKee landed on the counter pulled you back to reality. You finished washing your face, and placed it into the cool embrace of the small towel in your hands.

Turning away from the sink, you walked back into the main room. KeeKee trailed you as you rummaged through your dresser, plucking out items of clothing as you began to change for the day. 

“Come, KeeKee,” You called, clicking your tongue at her as you strided to the doorway of your room. 

She responded with a chirp and raced past you, out into the hallway. You watched her scurry down the stairs as you headed for the lobby. You were supposed to finish the season of RuGaul’s Drag Race this morning with Angel Dust, and honestly, it was a pretty good show.

Unfortunately, the raised bump in the carpet right in front of your foot had other plans.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you fell forward, your arms instinctually raising to catch your fall.

You hit the ground with an oomph. Luckily, you caught yourself in time to not face any serious injury. Except the sting of your pride. You lay there defeated for a moment, the ache in your arms subsiding slowly.

“Well, hello down there, my friend!” Came a familiar call, static trickling from their voice.

 “Hello, Alastor.” You greeted the Radio Demon with a painful sigh. 

“It appears you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle, hm? Let me help you with that.” 

Black tendrils gathered around you, they were unnaturally cold and you squirmed against their touch. 

They tightened around you and lifted you up, up, and up until the soles of your feet were steady on the ground. They flowed off of you, disappearing like a shadow into Alastor’s form.

“Thank you, Alastor. That was very kind of you,” you spoke as you brushed dust off your clothes. You’d need to talk to Nifty about coming to your side of the building more often to clean. 

“It was no problem, my friend. I could not just sit by and allow you to take such an attitude from that silly carpet.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, and the tiny lump in the carpet that had delivered the tripping blow vanished. Leaving behind a nice, smooth surface.

His head snapped back up to you, that large smile still plastered on his face. You were about to open your mouth again when his gaze landed on something behind you, past the railing.

“Ah, I see you have finished another one of your paintings! What a wonderful piece this is, yes, truly remarkable!” 

He walked forward, and placed one hand on the railing. On the opposite side of the room, at eye level to the second floor, was a painting depicting a very large, glittering lake. A tall forest surrounded it, with massive snowy mountains as the backdrop. 

Small winged-angels sat near the waters, feasting on grapes and wine as they enjoyed the summer sun. Some stood near white-freckled fawns as they fed them fruits and nuts, their faces lit in joyful smiles. 

“Yes, it took me forever. Water is a pain to get perfect. Do you.. think it fits?” 

“Of course it does, my dear!” His enthusiastic voice not missing a beat, “I think Charlie choosing you for this job was a marvelous choice! You must have taken much inspiration from some of the classic artists.. Perhaps Edgar Payne?”

A look of surprise crossed your face. He knew about the famous western landscape artist? Alastor didn’t seem like a fine arts kind of man to you.

“I used some of his techniques, yes. I didn’t know you had such knowledge, Alastor.” You responded, a hint of questioning in your tone. Prompting him to speak more about the subject. 

Alastor waved his hand in the air in a brushing motion, as if it was no big deal.

“Oh, here and there. When I was alive hosting my radio show I once toured an art gallery for an advertisement. His pieces were on display, and I suppose his work has been imprinted in my mind ever since.”

“That’s very interesting, actually. I shouldn’t be surprised though, you seem to be in favor of many classic mediums.” 

“Mm, yes. I just can’t stand the way modern society has seemed to falter from its most creative forms. I’m sure soon they’ll just start paying robots up there to make art for them.”

You doubted that, people using robots to make art? What was the point of it if not created by the human hand?

It was then you caught his eyes darting to something behind you, towards the staircase. Did his eye just twitch?

Alastor’s toothy grin widened further, which you thought couldn’t be possible. Before you could turn around and get a look at whatever had captured his attention, his gaze landed back on you.

He quickly sidled much closer to you, and placed his free hand on your shoulder. Your eyes widened at the touch, he’d never been brazen like this before. Let alone being this close to you. 

Suddenly, he let out a loud, boisterous laugh at nothing particular. His head slightly shook from side to side like he just heard the funniest story in his life, which made you lean back slightly at his very odd actions.

“Oh, my dear, you are such a charm. Truly. I always enjoy our little talks about your ideas. You are so very passionate about your work.” 

Your eyebrows raised in suspicion at his behavior. What was this man up to? 

“We should definitely continue our talks sometime, perhaps, in the comfort of your study?” He questioned, placing his other hand on your shoulder, “Maybe, you could even teach me some of that history you have trapped in your noggin, mmm what was that era called.. the Renaissance?”

Your mouth parted slightly as you contemplated his words. He wanted to learn from you? You had never graced anyone with your teachings other than Lucifer, and you kind of liked it that way.

“Well.. I don’t know if-”

“Ahem.” Came a familiar, male voice from behind the two of you. 

Your words caught in your throat. Uh oh.

You watched Alastor’s grin deepen into a knowing smirk. His eyes snapping to the figure behind you, eyebrows raised. 

You pivoted, seeing the familiar pale face staring intensely at you, practically into your soul. You tried to smile at him, your teeth clenched painfully as you stood besides Alastor. His hand still on your shoulder. 

You tried to speak through your eyes, desperately trying to tell him this was not something you had asked for. You weren’t sure whether he could read it.

Lucifer’s gaze diverted to the hand on your shoulder, and you could feel a crackle of scorching hot energy in the air around you.

“Why, hello there, your majesty.” Alastor greeted him with mock enthusiasm. 

“What a surprise to see you here,” Lucifer responded, a slight growl in his voice. He straightened his back, leaning slightly forward on his staff, as though the scene before him was not a bother. He was terrible at hiding it though. 

“Indeed. My dear friend and I were just discussing their paintings, aren’t they a wonder?”

“Of course they are.” Lucifer responded. 

“We have such good conversations, you know, about their vast knowledge on the subject. It makes me envious really.” 

He released your shoulder from his grasp, and you scooted an inch away from him. 

“Perhaps, one day, you would care to join us? But I'm sure their line of work isn’t something you are interested in, hm?” Alastor’s words left his lips, and Lucifer’s teeth bared at that.

Alastor’s smile intensified as his own energy filled the room, an invisible dual of power was beginning to emerge between the two demons. It reminded you of what happened when Lucifer had arrived at the hotel for the first time, when they had fought for the position as Charlie’s father figure. 

Alastor wasn’t an idiot though, Lucifer could eradicate him at any moment. Was just simply irritating the fallen angel his only motivation?

Was Alastor’s initial conversation with you just to pull the strings of what was happening now? Did he know Lucifer was coming to see you? That sly asshole.

Alastor turned away from Lucifer’s glare, and met your gaze.

“How is that radio doing that I gave you? I hope you’ve been putting it to good use, I was trying my hardest to

think of the perfect gift for you, and I just knew that you would be interested in it.” 

“It was.. nice, thank you.. Alastor.” You responded, afraid what would happen if you ignored his question. 

“My pleasure, dear friend. We’ve been through thick and thin, you and I. It’s only right I share with you a piece of my.. admiration towards you.”

Admiration? 

Lucifer stalked up to the two of you, staring daggers in Alastor’s back. Clearing his throat, he let out a dark chuckle.

“I’m sure your little relationship is over-exaggerated,” He said, his tone passive aggressive, “I’ve hardly seen you in the same room together, let alone have such meaningful conversations.”

“But, of course we do! I was there the first day they walked through those doors. I was the one that welcomed them to their new home, and it was I who furnished their room in the first place. Seeing as barely anything has been changed or moved around, it is safe to say our connection is much deeper than you may think.”

You heard Lucifer growl again. His eyes flickering to a shade of red.

“Well, it’s too bad your gift is useless now.” Lucifer hissed, “They have an instrument of their own, which I have provided them.”

Alastor’s ear twitched at that, and he turned to you in mock fascination. 

“Oh, an instrument? Did you know I used to play in a band?” He turned to you, his questions armed with ill intentions, “I would love nothing more than to give you a lesson or two!”

“I am going to teach them, actually.” Lucifer snapped, “I couldn’t imagine the terrible noises that would come from you plucking strings like a tone-deaf banshee.”

Alastor laughed at that before reaching out and grabbing your hand. You had the growing itch to rip it away, but his stare whispered dark things, and you relented. Allowing him to grip your wrist loosely.

“Well, this has been fun, and I would like to continue our talks,” He addressed you, “But I have important business to attend to within the hotel, as your faithful hotelier. Perhaps, later tonight?” 

Your smile faltered for a second, giving him a slight glare. You weren't going to let him think you were falling for his games.

“Such a shame you have so much attention on you from so many others, those demons on the streets really look at you with such enamoration. My word, just practically begging for your attention! If only you would share all your ideas and knowledge with just me, you’d know how fantastic of a listener I am.”

“Others?” Lucifer asked incredulously.

Alastor ignored him, instead, he did something that you never expected.

He gingerly pulled your hand closer to his face, before leaning down slightly and placing a quick peck to your knuckles. You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth to cease it quickly. 

It was meaningless, you could tell. An act to simply further spur on Lucifer’s rage. 

“Why you pompous little fucking-!” Lucifer roared, but was cut off by Alastor’s maniacal fit of giggles.

Suddenly, the red demon evaporated into a large green cloud of smoke. A gust of freezing wind rushed you as he vanished. Behind you, Lucifer’s large hat was carried with the gust of wind, and he was left practically frothing at the mouth, his hair disheveled from the wind. His eyes still a dark sickly-red. 

You strode up to him, placing a hand on his arm. Trying to get him to look at you. 

“I promise you, we were not talking genuinely just then, Lucifer.” 

“Do you have conversations with that creep when i’m not around? Have you been telling him the same things you’ve shared with me?” 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breath of hot air. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just getting under your skin. I’ve barely spoken with him.”

“What did he mean by ‘others’? You have suitors that i’m not aware of?”

You leaned back, confusion spreading across your face. Was Lucifer.. jealous? Was the thought of other demons trying to get intimate with you.. bothering him?

“What? Well, I don’t know, maybe. It’s not like I-”

“It’s me who knows almost everything about you. I’m the King of Hell, what can anyone offer you that I can’t?”

What was this? He’s never spoken a word about courting you, which is why your feelings towards his affection were mixed. But now, he wants to? 

“And here I thought I could make it to the overlord meeting in time,” He growled. Before his gaze was renewed with fresh determination.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, and snapped his fingers. 

Before you could blink, the area around you melted and transformed into a beautiful restaurant. You were sitting at an oak table, candles lit around you. A wine glass in front of you.

Lucifer materialized at the seat across from you in a very tight, clean black tuxedo with a red bow tie around his neck.

He gave you a playful smirk, before another figure strode to your table. You looked up, and saw.. Lucifer? Again? This time in a classic waiter outfit, an apron tied around his waist. He held a plate of food in one hand, before setting it down before you. 

“You’re favorite dish, catered by yours truly.” Waiter Lucifer spoke confidently.

You looked down at the foodstuff on the plate, your mouth watering. It really was your favorite dish. You reached out to grab it, before you were thrusted into darkness again.

Where were you now?! 

You were sitting on a very comfortable cushioned chair, and as you whipped your head around, noticed that there were rows and rows of the same kind of chairs. 

“What the hell is going on?!” You yelled to the scene, but received no answer. 

Placed in them were more.. Lucifers? They all whooped and cheered, clapping at whatever was in front of you. You turned your head, taking in the sight before you.

It was a lit stage. The curtain was closed, so you were unable to see what was on it. Suddenly, the curtain lifted, and there was Lucifer again, he held a Violin, similar to the one he gave you, but this time in pure gold.

He looked at you before gliding the bow across its strings, the echoes of its chords filling the room. You perked, recognizing its tune.

It was ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’! The same one he had asked you about when you caught him humming that one time.

Did he learn it… just for you? Your heart fluttered. Was this grandiose display just him trying to prove that he cared about you and your interests?

It continued for a moment longer, the strings on his instrument singing with raw power. It was a beautiful sound, and for a moment you were lost in it. Emotions from your past bubbling inside of you.

And then, he let go of the violin and it began playing on its own. It floated in the air gracefully as its tune continued. He leapt off the stage and landed right in front of your seat. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it. 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of where you would be taken next.

“Luci..” You said, giving him a questioning look.

He only smirked at you, his eyebrows raised playfully. You shook your head, a smile blooming on your face at his theatrics, and laced your fingers with his. 

Instead of being thrown into darkness like before, gold flashed around you as he teleported you somewhere distant.

This time, you were on the roof of a very tall building, you shook your head to rid yourself of the dizziness before taking in the sights around you.

You were in Pentagram city, Heaven high above you, it’s white glow helping to light the rooftop like a stage.

Your hand was still gripping his, and he did not pull away. Neither did you. 

Suddenly, a tune began once more. Unfamiliar this

time, and you twisted your head to find where it was coming from, but to no avail. It seemed to be emanating from the entire space around you.

Was there a faint musical number playing in the background, or was that just your imagination?

Lucifer pulled you closer, his classic red and white hats by vest clung to his frame. His hat and overcoat nowhere in sight.

“Lucifer, what are you…” You trailed off, right as he opened his mouth and started to.. sing.

With treasures untold and riches divine,

I offer you the world, to make you mine.

His voice was like velvet, that boisterous playful demeanor apparent as he circled you around, you turned with him, never releasing his hand. He continued, his eyes never straying from you as he sang.

I can offer you kingdoms, castles of gold,

Mountains of riches, for you to behold,

Diamonds that shimmer, like stars in the night,

With every breath, with every sigh,

I’ll lavish you with riches, until the end of time.

His singing ceased, and you were rushed back into reality. You looked at him in awe, enamored by that pretty voice of his. It was ethereal, just like God has designed him to be.

You stood there for a second, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s hand as it entwined with yours. Your gaze traveling to those big, beautiful golden eyes that practically begged for your response. 

In that moment, as the sun above illuminated his pretty face and his shining hair flowing in the gentle breeze, you realized how much you adored- no, loved this man. 

Summoning all of your willpower, you answered. Your lips parted as your tongue began to form words of your own design. You didn’t call up any lyrics from pieces of past design. These words needed to be yours. Needed to say everything you desired and more. 

I don’t want your magic,

I don’t want your gold,

I want your eyes on me,

Until we grow old, 

The words left your lips, soft and buttery, as your confession rang through the air. You desperately hoped your voice didn’t sound like nails against a chalkboard, that it held some resemblance to his own angelic vocals. 

His eyes widened for a moment, before they softened. A sparkle shining in them that wasn’t there before. 

A genuine, heart-melting smile crossed his face as he listened to your words flowing from your tongue so gracefully, like water cascading from the Fountain of Youth.

You took his other hand, pulling him backwards, as you danced across the narrow rooftop, like ballerinas, your footsteps synced and graceful. 

Suddenly, he turned you towards the edge, your heels mere inches from the ledge of the roof. For a moment, you felt like you’d slip and plunge into the depths, but those eyes of his held you steady in your mind.

Until his wings appeared behind him, beating softly, giving you air as he spun you slightly off the rooftop. A pulse of warm energy hit you, and your legs lifted out from under you. Like you were Jane with your Peter Pan, and his magic fairy dust was going to send you gliding off to Neverland.

For a moment, you felt like you had wings of your own. That feeling of absolute freedom, unchained from the ground as you floated for a moment before Lucifer pulled you back to reality.

Your feet hit the rooftop once more and you were breathlessly aware of your heart beating in your throat. Your gaze snapped back to Lucifer once more, and you felt one of his hands lowering to your hip, the other still entwined with yours.

Lucifer leaned forward, and you with him.  Your back curved into an arch as he leaned above you, your lips inches from brushing against each other. You felt like exploding, those butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach threatening to burst.

Both your mouths opened at once, and your words entwined with his as your lips moved once more.

Your caring touch abundantly clear,

It’s all i’ve ever known,

With you my dear, 

I surely fear,

My heart will never be my own.

As your song ended, you felt your heart and mind clear instantly as your truth had finally been told. The look of pure adoration in his eyes was enough to have you trembling under his touch. 

Lucifer pulled you back onto your feet, his breathing heavy and the feathers on his wings ruffled. 

With both hands on your hips, you reached forward and cupped his face. Heat spread across your body as your fingers grazed across the small wisps of hair that curled around his ears.

“Darling, I-”

Before you could let him finish his sentence, you squeezed your eyes shut, and planted your lips against his. He froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before his hands around your waist tightened and he deepened the kiss.

You moved your hands from his face and instead wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping at his shirt collar with hungry desire.

His scent washed over you, and you drank it in with desperation. A sweet, crisp dose of apple cinnamon mixed with faint traces of roses. You thanked Heaven in that moment, for releasing them from their grasp, and right into your arms down here in Hell. 

Your knees hit the ground the same time as Lucifer’s, and you felt the soft touch of his wings as they wrapped around you. Blanketing the two of you from the prying eyes of all the realms. 

He pressed his face harder into yours as he cupped the small of your back. His teeth grazed the bottom of your lip, and you parted your mouth slightly, locking the two of you together even more intensely. 

His lips left yours, and he planted feverish pecks across your cheek all the way to your earlobe. He bit tenderly on it, and you had to squeeze your lips together to stop from whimpering. He continued, trailing down your neck with hungry kisses, before burrowing his face into your shoulder blade.

You felt his teeth graze the artery in your neck, and you gasped, grasping at his hair desperately as pleasure coursed through your veins. His breath hot against your skin, tickling it.

“Fuck,” You moaned, and his response was to push you farther into bliss as he suckled on your neck. Waves of pleasure hit you once more, and you began to sloppily kiss the top of his shoulder, slightly exposed from your roughhousing.

Lucifer tightened his grip around you, pulling you as flush to his body as he could manage. You both sat there on your knees in a mix of breathless gasps and hums of pleasure.

You did not want this moment to end. Finally, the both of you had opened yourselves up to your true feelings. You smiled at the thought, and planted a kiss on his earlobe as he lifted his head slightly from your neck.

Suddenly, the watch on Lucifer’s wrist buzzed violently, and you heard him curse under his breath.

“Is that for your meeting?” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Unfortunately,” He grumbled, before switching off the noise. He didn’t move from his position though, and you realized he was going to try and skip out on it.

“You should go.” You spoke, almost a command.

“Why? They’ve been fine without me for this long.”

“You’re the king,” You retorted, meeting his gaze sternly, “Go do your job, i’m not going anywhere.” 

His look of distraught at having to depart sent another wave of butterflies into your body. You couldn’t help but smile before giving him another quick peck on the lips.

“Go.”

“Fine.” 

You both stood up, and his wings uncurled around your body, disappearing into his back. His fingers still with yours, as he reached down for his hat that lay on the ground beside you. You released his grip and fixed his bow tie. Pulling his overcoat back neatly onto his frame, and adjusting it slightly. 

You wiped the sweat off his forehead and smoothed down his hair. Attempting to tidy him up as quickly as you could so he wouldn’t be late. He smiled warmly as you fussed over him.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” You spoke softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “I need a way off this roof.”

He smirked, before grasping his staff and tapping it against the ground. 

A flurry of gold wafted around you, and that same energy tickled at the back of your neck just like it did at the art studio. His face blurring from the cascading waves of warm light that wrapped around you.

“See you soon, My Love,” His voice echoed as your eyes shut and you felt that pull of energy. That feeling of floating on thin air hit you again, as you were warped away. 

“There you are!” Angel dust threw his arms in the air in exasperation a few feet away from you, as the particles of gold that floated above you disintegrated. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the lights in the lobby. 

“Where were you this morning? I had to watch the final episode all by myself!”

Shit. That’s right. You placed a hand on your forehead, berating yourself silently for forgetting. Although you weren’t too regretful about missing out on it for Lucifer.

“I’m so sorry, Angel. I just got.. busy, I guess.”

He shrugged, brushing off his slight irritation. 

“It’s alright, ain’t nobody hurt from it.”

He was going to turn away, towards the bar where Husk was readying drinks for the two of them, before his gaze narrowed in somewhere on your figure.

“Wait, what the fuck is on your neck?” He asked suddenly, his eyes giving you a questioning stare, as he motioned towards it.

You looked at him confused, before reaching up and running a few fingers down the side of your throat. Your eyes flew wide open in surprise, and your hand cupped your mouth as you felt it. Your cheeks set on fire instantly.

Apparently, as a final gift, Lucifer had left a rather large hickey in the crook of your neck. Both Husk and Angel leaned in to get a better look at it, their eyes widening in surprise. 

“That dickhead finally did it, huh?” Husk spoke up, a knowing smirk on his lips as he cleaned glasses behind the bar.

Angel’s eyes lit up in delight, and he squeezed his own cheeks as realization dawned on him.

“Fucking finally! Does that mean you two are a thing now?”

You contemplated for a moment, before meeting Angel’s gaze once more. A smirk growing on your lips. 

KeeKee appeared at your feet, rubbing at your ankles in greeting. You gingerly reached down and picked her up. She was so soft to the touch, and you caught the faint scent of Lucifer once more as she nestled into your chest.

“I guess so,” You finally replied once you situated the cat into your arms, “Now if you excuse me, gentleman, I need a breather.” 

Angel whistled flirtatiously behind you as you walked away, and you couldn’t help the growing heat that hit your cheeks once more.

——

a/n: let me know your thoughts!! i almost didn’t added the little singing bit but i cracked my knuckles and summoned the lyricist in me to have some fun. I mean, it can’t be Hazbin Hotel without a song right?

tag list: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Void - Part 10 - Wednesday

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 9 /?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Warnings: very short chapter

Mercifully, Taehyung does not wake you up with a thumb in your mouth. You wonder if you will even see him today, given he only signed the form to hide his feelings for Jimin. 

You head straight for the greenhouse, determined to avoid Hoseok for as long as possible. Will you ever be able to face him again? Maybe you should start working nights.

Luckily, there’s plenty to do in the greenhouse and you manage to work all day without interruption. Dinnertime arrives and your stomach grumbles, but you procrastinate heading for the kitchen out of fear of who may be eating there. You can’t stomach bumping into any of the men you’re fucking or any of the men you aren’t.

At a little past seven o-clock, Taehyung sticks his head into the door of the greenhouse. He furrows his brow to see your hands covered in soil. “I thought we had a date?”

“Huh?” you ask, wiping the dirt from your hands onto your pants. “I thought that was pretend. For the benefit of the crew.” 

Taehyung laughs, stepping further into the greenhouse. “Well, some of it was, but I did actually make dinner.”

“You did?” You aren’t dressed for a date. Not that you have anything else to wear. Just a different slightly less dirty jumpsuit. At least none of your clothing is covered in semen today. Yet. 

Taehyung is wearing the same jumpsuit from the accident with the rover. It’s still missing a sleeve from where it was cut off of him. It’s quite flattering on him, no surprise. His exposed upper arm has just enough muscle definition to draw your attention. It’s still in the sling but the bruising has faded. The asymmetrical look with its rough unsewn edge makes him look rather roguish. 

“Come on! The food’s getting cold!” He ducks back out of the greenhouse, waving for you to follow him.

You clean your hands with a cloth and follow him. You're surprised when he veers away from the kitchen and heads for the hangar instead.

The overhead lights in the hangar are off. The room looks so different, it takes you a minute to process what you are seeing. The Europa rover sits in the middle of the room, glowing from the inside with soft blue light.  Scattered around the room are little twinkling lights of white and blue and green. 

“Taehyung!” you gasp. “What is all this?”

“A date!” he answers triumphantly. He clambors up onto one of the large wheels of the rover and opens the door. Even from a distance, you can see a white tablecloth covering the center console, topped with more twinkling lights. He reaches down a hand to help you up. “Your chariot, m’lady.”

“This is…” You are at a loss for words as you take his hand and climb up into the rover with him. “This is so…” You examine one of the twinkling lights on the make-shift table up close. It’s one of the LEDs intended for lighting your paths down on the Europa ice sheets. At least it was rechargeable. "Taehyung, this is so much work for a fake date.” 

Taehyung laughs. “Just because we’re not bumping uglies, doesn’t mean it can't be a real date. I like dates.”

He pulls out a reusable water bottle from behind one of the seats that makes a surprising pop when he opens it. Then he pours something golden and bubbly into two champagne glasses. 

Without thinking, you take accept glass as he hands it to you, then do a double-take. “Is this champagne? Where on Earth did you get champagne? Or champagne glasses?”

He laughs, enjoying your surprise, as he takes a sip from his own glass. “Unfortunately, it’s not the real stuff, just some apple juice I ran through the carbonator.” He clinks his glass to yours as you hold it, still suspended in shock. “The glasses are from Earth though. Packed them for a special occasion.”

He stares a bit wistfully at the glass in his hand and you get a little pang of sadness. “Were you planning this for Jimin?”

He looks up at you and shakes his head, waving your concerns away. “No, no, no. I did this for you.”

“For me?”

He nods. “I’m trying to make amends.”

You’re surprised. “Amends for what?”

He sighs. “For the tape, for the jealousy, I feel like…” He gestures around at the ship in general. “I feel like a lot of this is my fault.”

“What? No.” You shake your head. “This is my fault. I started all this.” 

Taehyung gestures to one side of the console table welcoming you to sit down. “It seemed like you and Jimin were happy though, until I broke my arm and messed everything up.”

“Yeah…” You sigh as you sit down across from him. You sip your fake champagne as you remember orgasming with Jimin inside you, but Yoongi’s voice in your head. “Mostly… but there was something missing…”

“Ah,” Taehyung gives a bit of a teasing smile. “A certain flight engineer, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nervously, running your finger around the rim of your glass and teetering on the edge of admitting your real problem. “And not just him…” 

Taehyung nods knowingly. “We do have a devastatingly attractive crew, don’t we?”

“Yes!!” You exclaim, laughing in relief at someone who finally understands. “Why did you all have to be so fucking hot?!”

“All of us?” He places a hand on his chest in fake surprise. 

“Oh shut up, you know you’re hot.” The bubbles in your glass make you feel a little tipsy even if there's no alcohol in them.

Taehyung gives an exaggerated wink, then laughs. "You are very good at seeming uninterested in anyone though. I couldn’t believe how well you held it together when Jungkook stripped in front of you for that haircut.”

A lightbulb goes off. “Oh my god, you put him up to that, didn’t you?”

Taehyung bursts into delighted giggles and you smack him on his good arm. “You did! You maniac! Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not my finest moment, I will admit. Perhaps I had ulterior motives for throwing the hunk at you. Sorry. Just one of many reasons I owe you apologetic fake champagne.” He takes another sip and smiles as he recalls the memory. “Still, you kept your cool remarkably well. If it were me, I would have had his dick in my mouth well before the end of that haircut.”

Your mouth falls open. Fuck. That’s… that’s a very attractive mental image. Your pelvic muscles flinch with a twinge of arousal. 

Taehyung sees your surprise and his eyes widen. “Oh shoot, sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He takes your glass from you and sets it down on the table, before turning to rummage with something in a cooler sitting under the seat next to him.

“Oh no.” You squirm in your seat. “I’m not… you didn’t…” you stammer. Fuck. What are you even trying to say? “I just didn’t realize you were attracted to Jungkook as well.”

Taehyung turns back to you and smiles. “I mean… how could you not be? That smile… those abs…”

You both sigh in unison, then laugh. “It’s deeply unfair,” you agree.

He nods, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s deeply unfair is how you have this crew wrapped around your finger.”

“What? No I don’t.”

He arches an eyebrow.

“I don’t!”

He sips his apple juice skeptically.

“No seriously! Hoseok and Namjoon won’t have sex with me even though I practically begged them…” 

He shakes his head. “I still don’t think you realize the power you hold.”

“What power?”

“I saw that video you made with Yoongi. That was incredible. When you let go of all the fear and stress and were so open and vulnerable, that was beautiful. It’s no wonder they all love you.”

Something about hearing it from someone you’re pretty sure doesn’t want to have to sex with you makes you feel like it might really be true. But the whole thing is still too embarrassing and uncomfortable to think about for too long. 

“They’re not in love with me. They’re just… I don’t know… can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

Taehyung sets down two plates of what looks like fine dining. Red beets sliced thin and drizzled with balsamic vinegar and a rounded mound of rice pilaf topped with a whole chicken breast.

“My god, where did you get all this?”

He smiles, pleased with himself. “Jin helped me with a bunch of it. I’ve technically given up two of my Christmas dinners for this, but it seemed worth it.” 

You are shocked again that he would go to so much effort. “You didn’t have to do all this just for the sake of our pretend relationship…”

He reaches over the table to take your hand in his. “I do want a real relationship with you though,” he says and your heart starts racing. His dark eyes hold such warmth even as the rest of him is so statuesque. But then he draws back. “Even just as a friend.” he says and you’re a bit disappointed. 

The two of you chat the rest of the evening as you savor your meal, both relieved to find someone you can be honest with. 

At one point you offer to mend his jumpsuit sleeve for him, but he declines. “I like it," he says, shrugging. "Reminds me of important lessons."

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "I suppose it is rather dashing," you admit, trying to fill the silence. "But I suppose you would make a dish towel look dashing." You can't even blame the fake champagne for your loose tongue.

His eyes widen in delight and he laughs as he pours the last of the bubbly apple juice into each of your glasses.

“So…” he says as you take a last bite of your dessert, a delicious chocolate cake designated for some future New Year’s Eve. “Fuck, marry, kill: Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi.”

You gasp in horror. “Taehyung, I can’t answer that!”

“Too violent? How about fuck, marry, kiss?”

“No way, not answering.” You mime zipping your lips closed. 

“I’d marry Jimin, obviously.” He continues, undeterred. “And I think I’d have to fuck Yoongi. Those hands… my god.”

“Ugh…” Just the memory makes you groan and collapse onto the table in front of you. “Tae, he’s so good with them. It’s terrible. Those goddamn hands are what started this whole mess.”

Taehyung is pleased to have finally cracked through your facade. “Though the commander… he just carries himself like he has a big dick, you know?”

“Agh…” you groan again, laughing as you stand up. “I think that’s my cue to go to bed.”

“Allow me, m’lady.” He stands up and takes your hand to help you out of the rover. He’s still holding your hand as the two of you reach the floor of the hangar. 

“Thank you again for all this.” You gesture at the twinkling lights spread over the floor, looking especially lovely now that most of the ship has gone dark. 

“Would you mind a platonic goodnight kiss?” He asks, tapping his cheek.  

You bite your lip and shake your head, feeling a whole storm of butterflies in your stomach that do not feel platonic at all. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss on your cheek. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he murmurs close to your ear.

“Same time next week?” you ask, trying to fight down how on fire your face feels now. “I’ll cook next time.”

He grins. “Looking forward to it.”

______

Thursday is next! And it's going to be dramatic. Hopefully it will be ready soon! Thanks for reading!

[s4wdvator]

˙ . ꒷ 🧁 TEENAGER LOVE . 𖦹˙—

━━━━ 𖹭 THE STORY TAKES PLACE IN THE 90s

𓂅 ꒰ PAIRING : teen cowboy!jensen ackles x fem!reader

𓂅 ꒰ WORDS: 3,8K

𓂅 ꒰ SYNOPSIS : Childhood. Something Jensen and y/n always had and shared—even him being 2 years older than her—while they were growing up together, was something platonic. But as childhood fades and passion rises, everything changes in their relationship.

𓂅 ꒰ WARNINGS : friends to lovers, Jensen and reader's childhood, smut, morning n protected sex, p in v, oral sex, reader having a crush on Jensen over the years, lots of fluff, mention of the reader sleeping with Jensen, and maybe more stuff!

𓂅 ꒰ NOTES : If any of the topics discussed bother you, I recommend you leave to avoid discomfort. Remember, English is not my first language, so sorry if I make mistakes in words and etc... maybe will have a part 2 if u guys wanted! AND YES!!! I finally come back to post this one!!

1990 —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ THE GOLDEN TEXAS SUN was rising over the horizon, gently illuminating the vast Ackles family farm. The clear, cloudless sky seemed to promise another warm and peaceful day, while the aroma of fresh coffee and freshly baked apple pie filled the house, creating a familiar and welcoming atmosphere. It was a morning like so many others, but for Jensen and Y/N, that day had a special meaning.

Outside the house, the sound of laughter echoed through the orchard. Jensen and Y/N, as always, were together. He, with his messy blond hair and bright green eyes, was leaning against one of the trees, counting to ten. She, with her heart racing, was hiding behind an apple tree. Her chest rose and fell quickly from the running, and a mischievous smile adorned her lips. They were playing hide and seek, as they had done since they were children, but now, there was something different in the air, something more intense that neither of them could fully explain.

Y/N tried to contain a nervous laugh as she spied Jensen from afar. However, he was always smart, perceptive like no one else. Hearing the familiar sound of her laughter, he smiled at the corner of his mouth, that smile she knew so well, and began walking towards the tree where she was.

"Damn it," she hissed through her teeth, realizing he had already found her. Jensen was there, right in front of her, smiling as if he had known he would win the game from the start. Slightly irritated, the ten-year-old girl came out of her hiding place and crossed her arms, staring at him with a sullen expression.

"That wasn't fair, Jay," she protested, her voice childish and slightly breathless. He laughed, a cheerful sound that always made her heart beat faster, even if she didn't yet understand why.

"You're just saying that because you don't know how to lose," he retorted, the provocative tone evident.

Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. She hated to admit it, but he was right. He always was. It irritated her to no end, but at the same time, she loved how Jensen always seemed to be one step ahead of her.

"Idiot," she muttered, staring into his green eyes, which shone in the sunlight. Jensen let out another laugh, a genuine one that made her chest warm in a strange, new way.

"Deal with it and it'll hurt less, brat," he teased again, with that smug smile she loved to hate.

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms tightly. “You say that like you’re not only two years older,” she retorted, the stubbornness evident in her voice. She hated it when he called her a “brat.” Two years was nothing, and she couldn’t understand why he insisted on it so much.

Jensen just shrugged, muttering a casual, "Whatever." He always did that, making her even more irritated. Regardless, the two of them began walking together back to the house, where Jensen's mother called them for breakfast.

After eating, Y/N and Jensen went to his room, as they did almost every morning. The space had the typical smell of clean sheets and a light woody essence, so characteristic of him. They were sitting side by side on the bed, the comfortable silence filling the room. Y/N looked at him curiously, as if she wanted to unravel the thoughts that were going through his mind. In turn, Jensen looked back at her, arching an eyebrow, as if wondering why she was watching him so much.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he finally asked, his tone slightly amused.

"I don't know," she replied with a shrug, but a smile played on her lips. "Maybe because you're fun to watch."

Jensen narrowed his eyes, pretending to be offended. "Funny? I'm a lot of things, Y/N, but funny is definitely not one of them."

She laughed, shaking her head. "If you say so, Jay."

1993 —

Jensen’s room had that familiar smell of youth: a mix of freshly washed sheets, cheap deodorant, and something that was all his own, a scent Y/N had known since they were kids. She was sitting on the corner of his bed, her hands clasped in her lap, her bare feet swinging as she took in the scene before her. Jensen was leaning against the headboard, a smug smile playing on his lips while his new girlfriend, Sarah—or was it Samantha? She didn’t care to remember—was cuddled up next to him.

They kissed. Not a discreet kiss, but one that made uncomfortable noises and made Y/N want to roll her eyes until the limit. She felt out of place, as if she had been thrown into a scenario she shouldn't be in.

Why had Jensen called her here? For this? To watch him and Sarah kiss like they were in one of those teen movies she hated? It didn’t make sense. They always did everything together: played video games, listened to music, laughed at the stupid jokes that only they understood. But lately, everything was different. He was different. Jensen was fifteen now, and it seemed like suddenly girls like Sarah were more interesting to him than the best friend he’d known all his life.

Y/N felt something strange in her chest. It was like a tightness, an discomfort that she couldn't name. Part of her wanted to yell at him, ask him why he was acting like this, but another part knew she had no right to do that. After all, he wasn't hers. Right?

She tried to ignore the sound of their kissing and focused on a poster on the wall of a band they listened to together. But it was no use. Every muffled giggle from Sarah or the way Jensen mumbled something that made her laugh only made her angrier. The comfortable silence she always felt in his room now felt heavy, suffocating.

Finally, Y/N couldn’t watch any longer. She jumped up from the bed, her hands shaking and her face red, but not from embarrassment. It was anger. It was sadness. It was… jealousy?

"Where are you going?" Jensen asked, pulling his lips away from Sarah's long enough to look at Y/N with a confused expression.

She turned to him, her eyes flashing with frustration. “To my place,” she said, her voice more sharp than she intended. “I don’t want to stand here and watch you kiss someone.”

The room fell silent. Sarah looked at Jensen, then at Y/N, her eyebrows slightly raised, as if she was enjoying the scene. Jensen, on the other hand, seemed genuinely lost. He blinked a few times, as if he hadn't realized until that moment that Y/N's presence there was, at the very least, uncomfortable.

"Y/N, wait..." Jensen began, but she was already at the door, her hand on the handle.

"No, Jey." She turned away for a moment, her eyes fixed on him in a way he didn't recognize. "You should have asked me to play video games or something, but not for this. I don't have to stand here and watch you..." She gestured vaguely with her hands, indicating Sarah, who seemed to be enjoying the drama. "Doing this."

Before he could respond, she left, slamming the door behind her. Jensen sat up in bed, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Sarah tried to pull him back to the moment, but he couldn’t stop staring at the closed door, his mind spinning over what had just happened.

Outside, Y/N walked quickly down the sidewalk, the cold night wind blowing against her face. Her eyes felt stinging, but she refused to cry. What was happening to her? Why was this bothering her so much? Jensen was her best friend, and it was normal for him to have a girlfriend. Right? So why did it feel like something inside her was breaking?

She kicked a rock in her path, frustrated with herself. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she should have stayed and acted like she didn’t care. But she did. And that scared her.

As she crossed the street to get home, a memory came to her: Jensen, at nine years old, holding her hand as they climbed into the tree house he had built with his father. He had promised that they would always be best friends, that he would never leave her behind. "You're my partner in everything, Y/N," he had said, with that boyish smile that she had never forgotten.

But now, he had Sarah. And for the first time, Y/N felt like she might not be his partner in everything anymore.

Back in the room, Jensen was still lost in thought. Sarah, realizing he was no longer paying attention to her, sighed and started playing with her hair. "Your friend is a bit dramatic, isn't she?" she commented, with an irritating tone that made Jensen frown. .

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he replied automatically, his voice more serious than Sarah had expected. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. Jensen, in turn, got up from the bed and walked to the window, looking out at the dark street. He knew he had done something wrong, but he couldn’t put it into words. Y/N looked… hurt. And he hated that.

Maybe he had been selfish in inviting her here. He thought it would be normal, that she wouldn't mind. After all, they always did everything together. But now, he was starting to realize that not everything was the same. Things were changing, and he didn't know if he liked it.

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He knew he needed to talk to her, to explain himself. But deep down, he was afraid that even if he did, something between them would have changed forever.

1995 —

The day dawned with the sun shining high in the sky, as if even the universe wanted to celebrate Y/N's 15th birthday. The weather seemed perfect for outdoor parties, and her house was full of family and friends, all busy with laughter, conversation, and of course, eating the delicious treats her mother had prepared. Colorful balloons were scattered around the yard, and a large banner read: *"Happy Birthday, Y/N!"*

Y/N was excited. Her radiant smile and infectious energy made everyone around her feel good. She had that gift. With every congratulation she received, she thanked them with a hug or a kind word, but deep down, all she wanted was to see one specific person: Jensen.

Jensen Ackles. The boy she had known for as long as she could remember. Her best friend, her partner in all her adventures, and now, the guy she was starting to kiss in secret. Their relationship had changed in the last few months, and Y/N knew it. She also knew that she had played an important role in this change. After all, she was the one who insisted that something happen between them, so that he would stop putting up so many barriers and just admit what they both felt.

She chuckled to herself as she remembered their first conversations about it, a few months ago. Jensen, at seventeen, had seemed genuinely terrified of the idea of getting involved with her in a different way. He’d said something like, “You’re fourteen, Y/N. This is wrong. I’m going to get arrested!” And she couldn’t help but laugh so hard she cried. It was hard to take Jensen seriously when he said things like that, especially since deep down, she knew he wanted that too.

But he had resisted. For weeks. Maybe even months. Until finally, he had given in. Jensen had always been stubborn, but Y/N was even more so. And once she had made up her mind that she wanted something more with him, there was no way she could give up. The first time he had kissed her, it had been quick, a little awkward, like he was afraid someone would see them. But after that, things had started to flow between them. They weren’t officially dating—not yet—but what they had was special. And she knew it.

Y/N walked around the yard, greeting the guests, but her eyes were always searching for him. Where was Jensen? He promised he would come, and she trusted him. He never let her down.

Finally, she saw him. He was leaning against the fence at the back of the yard, wearing a black T-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and strong arms. His blond hair was messy as always, and he had that signature smirk that made her heart beat faster. He looked a little out of place in the middle of the party, as if he didn't quite know where he fit in.

She smiled and walked towards him, the flowery dress she wore swaying gently in the breeze. When she got close enough, she stopped, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow.

"You finally showed up, huh?" she said, her tone playful, but with a touch of lightness that only she knew how to use.

Jensen looked at her and chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was a little nervous. "I was here the whole time. You were the one busy being the star of the party."

"Oh, sure," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Like you didn't know I was looking for you."

He smiled, and that damn smile made her legs go a little weak. Jensen had that effect on her, even if he didn’t know it—or pretended not to.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," he said finally, his voice low and husky. He stepped forward, pulling something out of his pocket. It was a small, poorly wrapped package, as if he had packed it in a hurry.

"You brought a present?" she asked, surprised. "Jensen Ackles, you're getting sentimental."

"Don't say that out loud," he teased, handing her the package. "It'll ruin my reputation."

Y/N laughed as she carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small necklace, simple but pretty. The pendant was a small silver star. She looked at it in surprise, and then at Jensen, who looked slightly uncomfortable, as if he was afraid she wouldn't like it.

"It's... just something small," he said, shrugging. "I saw it at the store and... it reminded me of you. Always shining and everything."

For a moment, Y/N was speechless. Not because the gift was grand, but because it was so... Jensen. He always knew how to make something simple seem special. She smiled, placing the necklace around her neck.

"It's perfect," she said, her voice soft. "Thank you, Jey."

He gave her a shy smile, but before he could say anything, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. It was quick, but enough to make Jensen blush slightly.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand. "Let's get out of here. This party is boring without you."

He hesitated for a second, but in the end, he followed her. They walked to the back of the yard, where there was a small swing hanging from a tree. It was a place they had visited so many times as children, and it felt natural to be there now.

Y/N sat on the swing, while Jensen leaned against the tree trunk, watching her with that look she could never fully decipher. She swayed slightly, her feet touching the ground.

"You know I like you, right?" she said suddenly, her tone casual but her heart racing. She wasn't good at keeping things to herself, especially when it came to Jensen.

He looked at her, surprised, but said nothing for a moment. Then he sighed, crossing his arms.

"I know," he replied finally. "And... I like you too. A lot. More than I should, maybe."

She frowned, tilting her head. "Why more than you should?"

"Because you're 15, Y/N," he said, looking frustrated with himself. "And I'm 17. Do you know what people would say if they knew we were... I don't know, hooking up?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Jensen, seriously? Two years difference is nothing. And besides, who cares what other people think?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. She was right, as always. He knew that. He knew she was stubborn, determined, and that in the end, he couldn't say no to her. He never could.

"You're so annoying," he muttered, but there was a smile on his lips.

"I know," she replied, smiling back. "And you like it."

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but laugh. And in that moment, as the sun began to set and the golden light illuminated her face, Jensen realized he was completely screwed. Because he didn’t just like Y/N. He loved her. And that scared him more than anything else in the world.

1998 –

That morning, Leitora's room became a temple of passion, where she and Jensen, childhood friends and now lovers, would give themselves to each other without reservations. At 18, Leitora felt that her life was finally beginning, and Jensen's love was the key to unlocking all her secrets.

The sunlight, filtered through the curtains, bathed their naked bodies in a golden glow, highlighting every curve, every scar, every mark of the history they shared. Reader admired Jensen as he slept, his face relaxed and serene, his brown hair spread across the pillow. She felt a love so deep it hurt, an irresistible desire to protect him and love him forever.

Jensen woke slowly, his emerald green eyes meeting Reader's passionate gaze. A lazy smile curved his lips, and he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep, "What are you thinking about, my love?"

"How lucky I am to have you," Reader replied, with a radiant smile.

Jensen approached, wrapping Reader in his strong arms and kissing her passionately. Their lips met in a whirlwind of desire, their tongues dancing in a frenzied rhythm. Jensen's hands slid over Reader's body, caressing her breasts, her belly, her thighs. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and her nipples hardened under the touch of his fingers.

The more Jensen touched her, the more Reader gave in to the moment. She spread her legs, inviting him to explore every inch of her body. Jensen accepted the invitation with a moan, kissing and licking every curve, every crevice.

Carefully, he began to caress Reader's clit, his fingers dancing in circular motions that brought her to the edge of ecstasy. She moaned loudly, and Jensen whispered in her ear: "Shhh, don't make noise, baby. Your parents are sleeping."

But Reader couldn't contain herself. The pleasure was overwhelming, and she gave herself completely to the moment. Jensen continued to caress her, his fingers working masterfully on her clitoris. Then, he pulled the sheets away from their bodies and began to trace hot, wet kisses on her stomach, thigh and groin, she writhed at his touch.

It was too much, he was too good to be true.

Soon, he licked her pussy. Tasting her for the first time was a bit bittersweet, but very good. He could stay there for hours, just drinking her juices and cum. While his tongue worked on everything, he started sucking her clit, while his long fingers were penetrating her, and all of this, made her moan loudly, writhing on the bed.

Her reactions made him happy. He was more experienced than her, and he was happy to give her so much pleasure. After a while of just eating her pussy, she finally came in his mouth. She tasted wonderful.

Reader's body convulsed in spasms of pleasure, and she cried out Jensen's name. He hugged her tightly, kissing her passionately as she recovered from the ecstasy.

After a moment of silence, Jensen pulled away and grabbed a condom from the dresser drawer. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and placed it on his erect member, his eyes locked with Reader's.

Carefully, he positioned himself at her entrance, feeling her warm, inviting wetness. He looked into her eyes, seeking her permission, and she nodded, her eyes full of desire.

Jensen entered Reader slowly, feeling her tighten around him. She moaned in pleasure, and he began to move in a slow, sensual rhythm.

The more Jensen moved, the more Reader gave in to the moment. She hugged him tightly, her fingers digging into his back as she lost herself in the pleasure. He kissed her, nibbled her, caressed her, each touch increasing her arousal.

"Jensen..." she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "More... please, more..."

Jensen obeyed, increasing the pace of his thrusts. He thrust into her hard, feeling her writhe and moan beneath his weight. He loved her with every cell in his body, and he wanted to make her feel the same.

Finally, they both climaxed at the same time. Reader screamed, her body shaking in waves of pure pleasure as Jensen filled her with his love. They remained embraced for a long time, their bodies still vibrating with the energy of orgasm.

After a moment of silence, Reader pulled back and looked at Jensen with a mischievous smile. “Now it’s my turn,” she said, her eyes shining with desire.

Jensen smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. He lay back on the bed, inviting Reader to do whatever she wanted with him.

Reader knelt before Jensen and took his member in her hands. She kissed him, licked him while she began the soothing movements up and down, just to warm him up and then took him to her mouth. His cock was big and thick. She managed to take half of it, the rest her hands caressed and sometimes, her hands massaged his balls, which were already heavy with the desire for a new release. Jensen moaned in pleasure, feeling Reader's warm tongue envelop him.

She sucked and licked him with fervor, her lips and tongue working together to bring him to the edge. Jensen gripped Reader's hair, controlling his movements as he lost himself in the pleasure.

"Oh..." he moaned, his voice thick with desire. "You're amazing..."

Reader continued to suck him passionately, until Jensen felt like he was going to explode. He warned her what would happen, he was going to cum in her mouth and so he did, she stopped sucking him for a bit and just kept moving her hands, encouraging him to cum right away in her mouth. Her mouth was open just waiting and finally, he was spurting his semen into Reader's mouth. She swallowed it all with pleasure, savoring every drop of his love.

When they were finally done, they were both exhausted but incredibly satisfied. They had explored every corner of their bodies. After the intimate moment, they enjoyed the morning together, eating, watching a movie on TV. But in Reader's mind, it was like she finally felt good, free and at home. The thought of feeling at home with him made her hug him tighter and he smiled.

tag list: @rositaslabyrinth @mxltifxnd0m @figurantedefilme @dolliristel @castiwls @deansbite @deansbeer @rubyvhs @couturewinx @dulcescorderitas

[wol-fica]

-Bliss PT 11-

summary - reader would do anything, anything, to protect wednesday…

warnings - punching, blood, nose broken, SAPPY

an - missed wednesday and r, (mostly wednesday), so i thought id get back into bliss before season 2 comes !!

—————————

It was a beautiful Monday afternoon in New Jersey, golden rays of sunlight bathing the mansion floor in a beautiful blanket of bronze. The windows were open to the outside world, a warm breeze flowing through the house and invading the walls with the scent of pine and apple pie.

You were in the kitchen, humming along to one of your favorite songs while you stirred ingredients together to make a sugar glaze. Your pie was in the oven, almost ready to be taken out and admired for how damn talented you were at baking, but it needed a few more minutes to reach perfection. It’s crust was a delicious looking light brown, dusted with a bit of salt for flavor, that covered the mouth watering apple filling that was crafted from your great grandmothers secret recipe.

Your cooking and baking skills were a great blessing, especially since your wife has a bit of a sour tooth when it comes to entrees. You always made sure to craft each dish to the exact perfect condition of what she was craving in that moment, and every time, without fail, she would praise you in her gothic ways about how delicious each meal was.

Speaking of your wife, she was currently typing away on her typewriter in the office, working on a new book series since finishing her last collection. Becoming such a well respected writer had boosted her confidence a lot, which in turn helped open more doors to new plot lines and perspectives of storytelling and imagery for her to explore. You had been her biggest supporter throughout her journey and definitely earned the title of “#1 Wednesday Addams Fan” after showing up to every conference and book signing wearing her face on your shirt.

She scolded you for it every single time.

“Doing okay, babe?” You called out, whisking the icing gently.

The ‘tap tap tap’ of the typewriter abruptly stopped, and the sound of footsteps ranges out softly in the house as your partner approached the kitchen. You turned your head just in time to see her round the corner, your breath catching in the back of your throat from the sight of her.

Wednesday Addams was a glorious view, and just so easy to look at for you even after all these years. Her skin was supple and pale, almost ghostly white from lack of melanin in her cells. Her eyes, black as ever, were filled with a sense of warmth that to others, would be discomforting; to you, it was home. She was dressed in a knee-length black skirt that held her checkered sweater tucked in at her waist, with a thin silver chain hanging loosely from the front of her hip to the back. She had white, shin-length socks on that hugged her calves in such a way that it was almost hypnotic to stare at her. Her hair was in her usual duel braids paired with her beautiful bangs that you loved oh so much, and she wore an expression of admiration on her face when she spotted you.

“Hey you.” You said, setting your whisk down to fully turn to her, “Finished the third chapter yet?”

“Not yet.” Wednesday replied, stepping into your personal space and tilting her face up to you, “I am stuck in the torturous prison of what the people call ‘writers block’.”

You chuckled, taking her chin in your hand and leaning down to kiss her. She stood up on her toes to meet you, her hands resting on your hips while you cupped her jaw. She tasted divine, her lipgloss flavor consisting of black cherries and dark chocolate with a hint of eucalyptus to complement the sweetness.

“Hi.” You murmured to her after pulling away, staring into her dark eyes.

“Hello.” She whispered back, her hands slithering around your waist, “I missed you.”

“We live together.” You teased, smiling when she undid the tie of your apron.

“You have been baking all morning.”

“Could’ve joined me.”

“And suffer with the nauseating effect of home life and domestication? I’d rather be nailed to a post.”

You giggled, moving around her to hang your apron on the pantry door hook before coming back over to the oven to peak at your pie. It seemed to be done, so you grabbed your black mittens and carefully took the hot dish out and placed it on the stove. The aroma of apple hit you like a warm pillow to the face, and you felt your whole body physically relax from the touching smell.

“I hope to get a slice later.” Wednesday said, sliding her hand into yours once you took the mittens off, “It looks divine.”

“I thought Wednesday Addams didn’t like sweet things?” You asked, scrunching your nose at her.

“I like you, isn’t that enough proof?”

You hummed, pressing your lips to her forehead as a loving gesture. The radio sounded light static before Foolish Girl by Marjorie filled the room. Your unoccupied hand slide to rest on your wife’s waist, gently beginning to sway to the music with her. She let her head rest against your chest, her eyes falling shut at the sound of your heartbeat.

“Twenty-five years old and you still dance like you’re fifteen.” You mumbled, smoothing the wrinkles out of her sweater.

“I need to perfect my skills, I just haven’t had the time.” She replied softly, burying her nose into your hoodie, “Fifteen year old me would be devastated.”

“No.” You said, lifting her head and reaching to cup her face, “She would be so proud to see what you have achieved; you’re incredible, baby”

Wednesday blushed, shamelessly letting her eyes run over your features with pure admiration. You both stayed like that for a while, content in swaying in each other’s embrace whilst occasionally sharing little kisses here and there. The moment was perfect, until a sharp knock at the front door startled you.

“Who could that be?” You wondered aloud, knowing you weren’t expecting anyone today.

“A spokesperson maybe.” Wednesday grumbled, turning and heading towards the front door, “I’ll tell them to leave.”

“It’s not like we get solicitors.” You said, knowing it’s a pretty long walk from the road to your front door, “Be nice, please!”

She waved you off, rounding the corner out of sight but not of earshot. You heard the front door open, and a male voice respond to your wife’s question of his presence.

“I’m here for you, actually.” The person said, his words slightly slurred.

“Sorry, not available, please leave.”

“Seem pretty available to me; pretty cute too.”

“Use the word ‘cute’ to describe me again and i’ll remove your finger nails with my pliers.”

“No need to get attitude with me, gorgeous. How about I come inside and we chat a little?”

You tensed up, dropping the plate you were drying onto the counter and briskly walking to the front door. There was a tall man in the entrance, holding the door open with his hand so Wednesday couldn’t shut it on him. He was scruffier looking, his greasy hair long and his wiry beard unkept on his bumpy skin. He had a smirk on his face that was unsettling and gross looking, like something that came out of a shitty thriller from the 60’s or something of the sort.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man drawled out, seeming to size you up when you approached.

“Her wife.” You deadpanned, standing to slightly in front of Wednesday to block him from entering your home, “And I’m pretty sure she asked you to leave.”

He laughed, his breath reeking of scotch and beer when it hit your nose. You recoiled slightly, mistakingly taking a step back in disgust. The man saw that as an opportunity to strike, and shot his hand out to grab Wednesdays arm.

It felt like everything happened in a millisecond; one minute you were pinching your nose to block the smell, the next you were swinging your fist into his face, his nose breaking with a satisfying ‘crack’. He fell backwards onto your concrete front porch, his hand immediately covering his injury. You breathed heavily, your chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Not many things angered you, but if someone ever put their hands on Wednesday, you would see red.

Call it your wifey instinct.

“OW! What the fuck?!” He screamed, cradling his face, “Son of a bitch!”

“Never, ever, touch her again.” You growled, squaring your shoulders to make yourself appear bigger, “Now get the hell off of my property before I call the cops.”

With that you slammed the door once he retreated down your steps and to the street, locking the deadbolt with a grunt of annoyance. Blood coated your knuckles from the impact of the man’s nose breaking, but you could honestly care less as your focus was on the women standing in front of you.

“Are you okay?” You asked, reaching for her arm to make sure she wasn’t scratched or bruised.

“I am fine.” Wednesday reassured, a glint of love in her eyes as she stared at you, “That was the most attractive thing I have ever seen.”

“Wednesday, I just punched a man in the face.”

“And it was divine.” She replied, biting her lip in a teasing way, “The way you spoke to him; impressive.”

You sighed with a smile, wrapping your arms around her and kissing her softly. She responded with leaning into you, titling her head to the side to welcome you in as much as she could.

“I’m glad to have you.” You whispered against her lips, “Truly.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She whispered back, tugging you forwards with her as she walked backwards.

“The pie is still on the stove.” You reminded her as she began to run her hands down your chest, “Didn’t you want a slice?”

She pulled back from your embrace, nodding in the direction of your shared bedroom. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, a small smirk coming to her face.

“I can think of something sweeter to eat.”

—————————

🫦

taglist: @cartierdreamx @tundra1029 @red1culous @vorsdany @andsoigotabutterfly @theafterofnevermore @yomomisgay @house-of-lovin @dunohilly @somekindofpoet @alexkolax @cinffy23 @pedrosprincess0 @amberfreemansburntface @myfturn

[voxslays]

Lucifer’s Daughter Headcannons

Lucifer x Reader: If Lucifer and Reader had a daughter, here’s what I think she would be like. or an excuse for me to talk about apple white…

Personality

First of all, personality. Your daughter would be raised by Lucifer, therefore picking up some of his both positive and negative traits, but let’s start positively.

Your daughter would be very creative. Her father was a dreamer; having beautiful (rejected) ideas and dreams for humanity. We saw in episode five how Lucifer would use his powers to show baby Charlie magic—so I doubt your child would be any different. Although Lucifer would be worried about her ending up like him.

Your daughter is very empathetic. Always helping injured little animals she finds in your back garden. Also, speaking of animals, it’s like she can speak to them. Animals really like and trust her—and by the time she gets older, she has an army.

Very charismatic. Your daughter would be extremely popular in school. Not only because she’s a princess of hell and the daughter of a fallen angel—but because of her charisma and charm. She is extremely outgoing, and will walk up and talk to anyone. Almost everyone loves her—how could they not?

Unfortunately, she would probably have selfish tendencies. Having been spoiled her entire life, she expects everything to be handed to her on a silver platter. And yes, while she can be down-to-earth and empathetic, she isn’t a perfect Angel.

As a teenager, your daughter would likely experience extreme anger issues. We’ve seen Lucifer can control his anger and annoyance…but he’s also been alive for eons. A teenager wouldn’t be able to do that.

She also inherits her father’s powers. From childhood all the way up into her teenage years, she will struggle to control them. Her powers getting stronger the angrier she gets. She is completely out of control, and has to be calmed down.

Looks/Appearance

Blonde. Very very blonde. There is no way she doesn’t inherit the signature blonde Morningstar locks. Oh, and those adorable rosy red cheeks. She’s so cute!

However, she will have your complexion and eyes. I also can imagine your daughter having curly little ringlets or locks, which is extremely hard to brush, because she cries every. single. time. and you just feel so bad about it.

Overall, I think your daughter would look (and dress) something like apple from ever after high, with your eye color and skin tone ofc. (God I love her so much).

Name

Okay. I know I’ve mentioned Apple White already in this post…but I just love her so much! Can you guys imagine Lucifer having a daughter like her?

Do I think he would name his daughter something like Apple? Definitely. I mean, he was the one who offered eve the forbidden fruit; an apple. And he just likes apples.

Another name is Evangeline. Depending on who you ask (or what you google lol) Evangeline can mean one of three things. Angel, messenger, or ‘good news.’ So not only does this name remind him of the good days back in heaven, but also his brother Gabriel, the messenger…is that too much of a stretch?

Another good one is Penelope. The name Penelope is Greek and means ‘weaver’ (not important) or ‘duck’. Wouldn’t it be so cute if Lucifer named his daughter something duck related? You can’t tell me otherwise.

The last name I can think of is Aurelia. (I actually knew an Aurelia lol). Aurelia means ‘golden’ or ‘the golden one.’ Not only is Lucifer referred to as ‘the golden angel’ in mastermind, but he would treat his daughter like a golden treasure. A chance to start over and fix his previous mistakes as a father.

Idk if I should make a part 2…but if I do, would u guys rather it be more Headcannons for Lucifer’s daughter, or a different characters child?

[ashthesalamipiece]

heyy can i request a like a day in a life of dad katsuki x mom reader with 6 kids ranging from 17 eldest to 2 the youngest? like on a school day where reader has to work early in the morning so katsuki has to wake all the kids up and get them ready for school while taking care of the two youngest 2 and 4 who dont have school simultaneously? thank you! and how are you these days if you dont mind me asking :)

Hey love♡ im doing fine thank you for askin♡♡♡

Enjoy♡

"Operation: School Morning"

5:32 AM

You kissed his forehead as you grabbed your keys, whispering, “I packed lunches last night. Good luck, babe. I believe in you.”

Bakugo cracked one eye open. “Huh?”

You were already out the door.

5:47 AM

He stared at the ceiling for ten minutes before he accepted his fate. Six kids. One man. A full school morning ahead.

He muttered, “Let’s f**kin’ go,” like it was war.

6:00 AM – THE WAKE UP

He marched into the hallway, sleep pants low on his hips and hair a volcanic mess.

“GET UP!” he barked, throwing open bedroom doors like a drill sergeant. “You’ve got thirty minutes before I come back with cold water. MOVE!”

Mina (17): Grunted from beneath her blanket. “Ughh, Dad, it’s senior year. Let me live.”

Eiji (15): Was already brushing his teeth. Golden boy. Clearly your genes.

Kaia (11): Whined something about not finding her skirt.

Sora (8): Was asleep on the floor with a plush All Might pillow over his face.

He shook his head. “Disgraceful.”

6:30 AM – THE LITTLE ONES

He heard giggling from the nursery.

Two-year-old Yumi was standing in her crib, bouncing with bedhead like a puffball. Four-year-old Nari was already in her princess dress, holding a crayon and drawing on the wall.

Bakugo blinked. “You two are too awake for this hour.”

Yumi squealed, “Daddyyyy!” and reached for him.

“Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second.”

6:47 AM – THE WARDROBE MELTDOWN

Kaia couldn’t find her other shoe.

Mina stole Eiji’s hoodie.

Sora’s sock had a wrinkle in it and he was losing his mind.

“Put on whatever’s clean!” Katsuki shouted over the chaos. “Nobody’s gonna care about your damn sock wrinkle!”

Yumi wandered into the hallway wearing a colander on her head. “Helmet.”

“…Sure. Why not.”

7:05 AM – BREAKFAST?

Katsuki managed to make:

Toast

Eggs

Banana halves

Apple juice

And a strong pot of coffee he didn’t even get to finish.

Nari spilled her juice.

Eiji was late brushing his hair.

Kaia refused eggs on principle.

Yumi ate a crayon.

Katsuki took a long, deep breath. “You’re all insane.”

7:30 AM – OUT THE DOOR

Backpacks slung, jackets half-zipped, three out of four school-age kids were in the car. Mina stole the aux cord. Sora dropped his lunchbox and screamed like someone died.

Katsuki buckled in Nari and Yumi in the backseat.

“You two aren’t even going anywhere,” he muttered. “You just scream if I leave you home.”

Yumi patted his cheek. “You so tired, Daddy.”

“…Thanks.”

8:00 AM – THE DROP-OFF ZONE

Middle school drop-off: Easy.

High school drop-off: Mina yelled out the window, “LOVE YOU DADDY BYEEEE!” just to embarrass him.

Elementary school drop-off: Sora tried to fake a stomachache. Denied.

Katsuki drove back with a deep sigh and two toddlers singing off-key in the backseat.

9:12 AM – BACK HOME

He dropped onto the couch like a dead man.

Yumi climbed on his chest. Nari handed him a glitter-covered drawing that said #1 DAD in backwards letters.

“You gonna nap, Daddy?” Nari asked.

He peeked one eye open. “No. I’m gonna survive ‘til Mama gets home. Somehow.”

Yumi handed him a Cheerio. “Snack?”

He took it. “Thanks, peanut.”

---

Later that day, you walked in to find all six kids passed out in the living room—Yumi on Katsuki’s chest, a cartoon still playing.

You kissed his forehead again. “You lived.”

He grunted. “Barely.”

You smiled. “You’re kind of amazing.”

“…Yeah,” he murmured, half-asleep. “Tell me again when the glitter’s outta the carpet.”

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 13)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“This is just a dream.” Your words came out in a tangled string, altogether as air being forced out of a balloon. You partially sagged as well, instinctively locked muscles loosening again after you’d realize there was another person next to you on the beach. 

She was beautiful, as always, with long silver-blonde hair  and violet eyes cut into a soft face. You froze for the briefest instant at the fact that her tall, Amazonian body was clothed, but dreams never followed the rules. 

With your arms out wide, you reached for the woman that had appeared beside you on the beach. “Right? Is it just a dream? L… like the ones before?”

You wanted it to be true. The swell of hope rose within you like the tide at your feet, but it was tainted by something that shook you and made your heart race.

The truth was like oil leaking through and into your bloodstream, sticking to your veins until it couldn’t be ignored any longer. Until it made you feel sick and trapped inside your own skin. 

“Right?”

The serene expression on Eve’s face gave way and rendered her heartache. She looked at you with violet eyes gone glassy for a long, long moment. 

Eve shook her head slowly. “No.”

—

The realm-traversing portal opened up amidst rolling clouds without much fanfare. Lucifer’s eyes snapped shut as he was accosted by piercing white light on all sides when he stepped out of it. 

“Ugh.” The blond blinked rapidly, trying in vain to adjust to the shift from dark red to blinding light. “It’s like crashing into the sun...” 

Heaven’s gates came into focus. 

“… while it’s going supernova.” Lucifer finished, muttering as he took a moment to shake out his sleeves. 

He stayed in place, readjusting his clothes while his wings folded back behind him. Heaven loomed on the horizon, only a short walk away. A fact that was eroding the King’s resolve with each passing moment.

Lucifer swallowed, straightening his bow tie. 

He wanted to turn back. 

It had been many millennia since he’d stepped foot anywhere near what was once his home; and in spite of the time and the distance, Lucifer could feel dread creeping up on him. The memory of being pushed and plummeting down, down, down into fire and brimstone came to him as if it had happened yesterday. 

Lucifer glanced down, anticipating the rise of molten rock and plumes of smoke as he headed straight into the Earth’s core. 

He was still standing, hands shaking so hard that his apple cane was tapping against the slow yet merrily rolling clouds. 

      The former angel closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply to steel himself. 

This was for you. He needed to know that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

This was for you. 

He’d do anything for you. 

Another breath. Lucifer stepped out from behind the clouds and onto the golden path that led to you. Just a few feet away and the blond tried to keep his eyes level with the gate itself, purposefully avoiding the all-knowing symbol above. 

A very bored-looking angel was flicking through the pages of what Lucifer assumed to be a reservation list. He couldn’t quite put a name to the face, as unless St. Peter had dyed his hair and grown a good deal of scruff on his chin, this was someone totally new to the gig. 

      Lucifer grimaced, wondering if this was a boon or not. 

“Excuse me!” Lucifer called up. 

“Ah!” The angel squawked. “Oh! Shi-I mean—!”

He fumbled with the book, accidentally crumpling a page mid-flick. Lucifer waited, tapping his foot nervously while the gatekeeper pulled himself together. 

       Finally, he smacked both hands against the book, using it as leverage to lean over and get a better look at the new arrival. 

“My apologies! Welcome to He-H…” Pupils shrunk to mere pinpricks within the angel’s eyes upon catching sight of the newest ‘arrival’. 

‘Oh fuck, okay.’ Lucifer lamented, posture sinking as he readied himself for a shitstorm. 

       His wings stretched out once more, and Lucifer glided up as stealthily as possible. The angel reeled back upon his approach, horror-struck, while the blond met him face-to-face.

“Yes! Hello there Mmmm—”” Lucifer squinted at the name tag pinned to the angel’s chest. “Matthias! Wonderful to meet you! Unless we’ve met before, in which case I apologize! It’s been quite a while since I’ve been up rather than down. Heh.”

Matthias continued to stare, jaw practically hanging off his face. “Y-you—you’re-!”

Lucifer’s smile waned like a melting candle. He drummed his fingers against the table top and cleared his throat. 

“Right.” Lucifer continued. “So, anyway, I’m here just to say ‘hi’ to a very special someone, and I would be eternally grateful if you could help me out with that.” 

He waited a full minute, watching Matthias shake like a leaf. It left Lucifer torn between irritation and anxiety. 

“Look, I’m not here to make waves.” He tried again. “I’ve done that enough for an immortal lifetime! And you know that, clearly.”

He chuckled, pulling at his collar. “I’m not asking for much. If anything, I’m actually doing my due diligence as far as Heaven is concerned and what’s that you got there? Is that a flip phone? Didn’t know they made those anymore. Who’re you dialin-”

“PETER!” Matthias screeched into the dated device. Lucifer’s whole body flinched at the sheer volume. 

“Wait, no, no, no!” Lucifer panicked, arms flapping to regain Matthias’s attention. 

Matthias continued to rear back until he’d fallen off the podium, and he barely managed to remember his own wings before hitting the ground. 

“Peter!” He cried. “Come back! We have a situation here!”

“No we don’t!” Lucifer tried to butt in. “He’s being ridiculous Peter. Don’t listen to him!”

“You need to get back here now! No, now!” Matthias snapped the phone shut and kept aloft a good distance from the King of Hell. 

He then made the sign of the cross, of all things. 

“Stay back!” The angel yelped. “I’m warning you I-I-I’ve been abstinent for over a hundred years and it didn’t break me! Neither will you, foul Tempter!” 

Lucifer stopped, lips peeling back as if he’d just sucked a lemon. 

“Okay, I didn’t need to know that.” Lucifer said, floating closer. “Look, maybe you didn’t get what I was saying, I’m just—”

“I said stay back!” 

Lucifer groaned, running a hand down his face. “Fuck me for thinking Heaven learned to listen.”

—

You felt lighter as you made your way back into the cityscape of Heaven, although your heart was truly aching. 

     There was no use in staying hidden in the trees, but as you crossed back into the modernized version of paradise, you vowed to return. Unless Eve herself decided to make another reappearance and join the rest of her angelic peers. 

Speaking of which…

Wandering had led you back to the center of the town, and you noticed that it lacked an angel or two… hundred. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked the empty air. Not a soul stirred at your inquiry, but you stared at the cafe on your left. 

     The majority of cafe tables hadn’t been bussed. You peered at the plates of half-eaten pastries and teacups, noting that more than one was still full and steaming. 

“There you are!”

 The unmistakable voice of Emily put a stopper in your confusion. “Where have you been? I was so worried!”

The holy woman hovered before you, unable to stay still as her wings beat against the air frantically. You frowned.

“Hey Emily.” You responded slowly, your brain still picking up the inconsistencies. “Do you know where everyone is?”

The angel shook her head, staggering you as she instantly took your arm and plucked you from the ground like a flower. 

“Woah! Hold on, wait a second!” You choked on your own saliva in surprise. You struggled to pry her delicate hands off of you as you were dragged through the air. “Emily! What’re you doing?”

“You have to come quickly!” Emily exclaimed. 

“Let me go!” You demanded.

You gawked when she just sped up. Emily raced through the empty town center with you dangling behind her, until she had taken you out into the open air. The gate into Heaven rose above all else as you fast approached it. 

—

A crowd had amassed from the city pavilion to stand and watch, aghast at the scene before them. Some cowered in their places while others edged closer to whatever was happening on the other side of the gate. 

     People were still floating in as Emily rocketed toward the front. You had no choice but to follow her lead, windswept hair falling in your eyes and mouth. You spat as you were planted on solid foundation again, and jostled forward by a no less overwrought Emily. 

You parted your hair like curtains, expression already screwed up and twisted in anger. You looked up and over your shoulder at the angel nervously chewing on her lower lip. 

“Excuse my language but what the hell is going on?” You bit out. Ugh, hair still caught on your tongue. 

Emily didn’t deign to give you any answers beyond a hand raised, finger pointing ahead. Her gesture made you scoff, though you let your curiosity get the better of you. 

      The last thing you expected to see was a squad of angels in pastel blues and whites, brandishing technological spears at Lucifer fucking Morningstar. 

“Please, everyone, there’s absolutely no need for any of this!” Lucifer’s tone was an odd mix of disarming and pacifying. 

He was bowed over, arms held out in a bid for calm. It was only met with more hostility, as several of the spears pointed at him sizzled with visible electricity. 

“Spare us your lies, Serpent. And be gone.” One of the aggressors spoke, sporting a remarkably deep voice despite his youthful appearance. A chorus sounded behind the creature, shouts of ‘be gone’ and ‘back to hell’ resounding until the pounding of your heart drowned it all out. 

Your breath came up fast and shallow, the capacity to rationalize long gone at the sight of the Devil.         

     You’d just accepted the loss of him, had exposed the wound he had left behind in your soul to the open air and grieved the lesson it taught you. Death had parted you both and you had been preparing to accept it, no alternative left to contemplate. 

“Lou...”

Mouth open, you tried to formulate your thoughts into words. You were coming up short, voice cracking and striped like a dying animal. 

“Lucifer.” 

You went ramrod straight, electricity enveloping your sight. He staggered.

“LUCIFER!” 

Pain lanced through him, but Lucifer only had eyes for you. You, calling his name and racing forward to grapple with the bars of Heaven’s gate. You, beautiful and glowing and real again. 

The King stood up, gripping the spear that had made contact with him only moment’s ago and throwing it off. Gabriel fell to the wayside like a swatted fly, his squad of soldiers swarming around to try and right him. 

They might as well have ceased to exist as Lucifer moved toward you. Heaven ceased to exist altogether, as soon he was close enough to take your outstretched hands. 

“You’re here.” 

***

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems, @cherry-cola-100, @pink-apples001, @al-of-the-stars, @backinthefkingbuildingagain, @martinys-world, @alastorssimp, @wobblesthewaffle, @shikiribee, @undertale-anomaly20, @asakura-fangirl-stuff, @ringsofpersonti @angelicwillows, @wingoodlilboymyway, @cimadreamer, @museofzealoushope, @oneiric-rotaerc, @call-me-nyxx, @darling-angel222, @elementwind91, @bloody-delusion-expert, @devilslittlebabyxx, @diffidentphantom, @shamblezzz, @ranposanedogawa, @minamilinaqueen, @1-helluva-hazbin

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb VIII

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: Another 3000-worder (sorry lol). Non MC!reader as the law student. This chapter features our favorite trio. Light angst, lots of wholesome vibes, flirting, tension, and banter. We’re back at it and… we keep peeling barista booooi. Romcom all the way and deffo not 18+ (go away tumblr)

Parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101 @zukini-01 @ariakamil @zaynessdarling @gojosballsack69

Exhibit A(bsolutely not over him) | Pt. 8

You haven’t stepped foot in the café in two days. What you have been doing is eating Golden Delicious apples until your stomach turned.

And that’s what finally reminded you of something important: You are, in fact, still a law student. And law students cannot afford to tank their entire future over a man with unfairly good forearms, a devastating smile, and an apple charm that clearly wasn’t just an accessory.

Not when it’s obvious now—undeniably, painfully obvious—that he’s taken.

You were never in the running.

You were just… killing time.

And now? You’ve seen the proof.

Time to stop pretending otherwise.

So, you’re buried in case law—mortgages, foreclosure procedures, and the soul-crushing distinction between de lege lata and de lege ferenda.

Except for that twenty-minute break earlier when you absolutely, definitely did not go down a google rabbit hole about psychological testing in aviation training.

… Not to mention the newbie texting you yesterday.

newbie: he’s wearing a navy button-down. i know the case is closed. just thought you’d want the update.

newbie: hair’s messy.

newbie: he just offered someone extra foam with a wink. i’m going to throw myself into the milk fridge to remind myself that this case is closed. sorry.

You’d bitten the inside of your cheek just to keep from grabbing your bag and sprinting there like a woman possessed.

So yeah. Extremely focused. Laser-sharp.

But you had stayed away.

Your highlighter is again uncapped. Your outline is almost legible. You are, objectively, thriving. Eating a sad multigrain bar between paragraphs and chasing it with lukewarm water like it’s a performance enhancer.

And then your phone buzzes.

Unknown number.

You stare at the screen. Don’t open it. Just… hover over the preview.

Unknown Number: hey. don’t you want your caffeine anymore? i can make you something else. de-caf americano. lavender latte. fake espresso with oat milk and ego support. or something worse :3 caleb (got your number from the newbie. hope that’s not a crime.)

You actually stop breathing.

Like, for real. Chest still. Brain blank.

Your heart has the audacity to flutter. Traitor.

You check the time. You should be reading about lien enforcement. Instead, you’re calculating how long to wait before answering so it looks like you’re busy and unaffected.

You add him to your contacts like a normal, composed person.

Then scream internally for a full minute.

Exactly eleven minutes pass before a reply is sent—just long enough to look busy, not eager.

you: wow. illegally obtained contact info and weaponized oat milk? bold strategy, counselor.

He replies immediately.

Barista Boi™ (DO NOT FLIRT): i prefer the term morally flexible barista. you want the latte or not?

you: define “latte.” is this a real drink or a coded trap?

Barista Boi™ (DO NOT FLIRT): yes

You scowl at your phone, biting back a smile.

you: i’m studying.

Barista Boi™ (DO NOT FLIRT): and i’m offering academic support. in beverage form.

you: …is this a bribe?

Barista Boi™ (DO NOT FLIRT): depends. is it working? :3

Of course you don’t answer right away. You make him wait this time. On purpose. Thirty minutes pass. You even get through two and a half pages of your reading before you cave.

you: i could maybe stop by. for like ten minutes. purely for the fake espresso.

Barista Boi™ (DO NOT FLIRT): :D perfect. i’ll be ready. and i’ll make sure the newbie doesn’t rat you out for folding under pressure :P

You glance at your reflection in your laptop screen. You look like someone trying not to smile.

You fail.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes. That’s what you told yourself.

Ten minutes. In and out.

And yet—you pause outside the café window, checking your reflection checking your reflection like Professor Litt’s about to grade it. Hair? Rebraided. Clean. Tight. Strategic. Lip gloss? Freshly applied. Not too much, just enough to look unbothered. Like you woke up glowing, not panicking about your response time and lack of emojis.

You push the door open.

The bell chimes.

And then there he is.

Behind the counter, in a black fitted tee that fits too well, apron tied low on his waist like it’s a fashion statement instead of a uniform, he’s cleaning the counter. He stretches forward to drag the rag across the far edge, one arm bracing his weight, the other gliding the cloth in wide circles. A vein pops along his forearm with the motion.

Your breath stutters for half a second.

He glances up.

Sees you.

And—oh no—he smiles.

The good one. Slow. Warm. Like you’re the most interesting thing in the room and he’s so glad you walked in.

“Hey,” Caleb says. “You look—”

A pause. His eyes scan you, just briefly.

“Really good.”

Your pulse skips like a badly written objection.

“Studying looks good on you,” he adds, tossing the rag aside as he steps toward the espresso machine. “What’ll it be? Oat milk ego boost? Fake espresso?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Whatever supports academic integrity.”

He grins. “So… lavender guilt with a hint of vanilla ambition.”

“Perfect.”

Behind the counter, the newbie ducks out of view with suspicious timing. Probably pretending to organize straws. Probably texting you in all caps.

Sure enough, your phone buzzes:

newbie: ok so we’re not dropping barista boi? because i distinctly remember “case closed” energy two nights ago… and you said you’d only show up during my solo shifts…

You exhale. Type back quickly:

you: i know. i meant it. mostly

You stare at the screen. Then add:

you: there’s just… one thing i still need to figure out. something he said. i’ll tell you when i know

A few seconds later:

newbie: i’ll be waiting (and possibly reorganizing inventory until then)

You glance up.

They’re crouched behind the counter, aggressively focused on a box of wooden stir sticks and definitely not subtle. Right.

You take your usual seat, pretending this is casual. That you don’t feel your lip gloss catching on your smile. That you’re not watching Caleb’s hands as he works—entirely too good at this for your emotional well-being.

He slides the drink toward you a moment later.

You rise, shift your weight like you’re pretending this is no big deal, grab the cup—and by the time you’re lowering yourself back into the chair, he’s already grinning.

Before you can respond, the newbie drifts by, eyeing the scene with quiet dread and maybe a flicker of amusement. They point vaguely between you two with a cloth in hand.

“Is this, like… scheduled flirting or do I need to update the roster?”

Caleb doesn’t miss a beat. “Let’s call it a catch-up session. Someone’s been ghosting their caffeine dealer for two days.”

You raise your cup, playing it cool. “Had to detox from questionable latte crimes.”

The newbie snorts. “Sustained.”

Caleb leans in just slightly, voice low. “Counterpoint: I missed the chaos.”

You sip, eyes locked. “Careful. I might bring it back in full force.”

The newbie exhales like they’re watching an HR violation unfold in real time.

You sip your drink again. It’s perfect.

Of course it is.

Before you can take another, Caleb’s already untying his apron like he’s done it a hundred times without thinking. He tosses it behind the counter, then shrugs into his jacket. Then he walks over like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’re not still trying to recover from the way he complimented you when you walked in.

He pulls out the chair across from you and sits—casual, easy, focused entirely on you.

“Clock’s off,” he says. “Extension granted.”

You raise your cup. “Wow. An unsupervised barista in the wild.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Careful. I’m dangerous without caffeine supervision.”

You smile into your drink. “You are the caution label.”

Caleb grins, easy and crooked, like he knows it’s true. But then silence settles in—comfortable at first, then strange. You realize you don’t actually know what to ask him. Not anything normal. Not anything safe.

That’s when the newbie drifts over again, towel still in hand and one brow raised. “Didn’t you say you had to leave exactly on time? Plans, or something?”

Caleb doesn’t look up right away. “Yeah,” he says slowly, sliding a finger along the edge of the table. “Changed my mind.”

Then—just a shrug. No comment. They turn and walk off, disappearing behind the espresso machine like they’ve decided they’ve already witnessed enough plot for one shift.

Your phone buzzes a second later.

newbie: he totally bailed on a date for you. i’m not saying i approve. but i am saying… damn gurl

You pretend to stare into your drink, hiding the flush that climbs up your neck. One hand cradles the cup, the other slips under the table to text.

you: noted. proceeding with caution.

newbie: you’re already toast

And you’re left sitting there. Caleb still not looking at you. Still pretending your pulse hasn’t picked up again.

You look at him, careful. “So… how does your date feel about being stood up?”

You try to make it light. Offhand. Like it’s a joke. But your hands are wrapped a little too tightly around your cup.

He doesn’t flinch. Just holds your gaze and says,

“She’ll survive.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he adds—quieter now, more certain,

“I’m just… starting to make the right priorities.” He leans back slightly, eyes still on you. “Honestly? I prefer this date over the one I had lined up.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Wow. So cross-examination is your ideal date?”

He grins, unbothered. “I don’t mind a little pressure.”

A quiet breath escapes as your thumb drags along the rim of your cup, buying time you’re not sure you need.

“Well,” you say, a little softer now. “Something you said at the farmers market stuck with me.”

His smile fades just a little—still gentle, but cautious now.

“If you don’t mind,” you continue, “I’d like to ask one more serious question. And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

He nods slowly. “Go on.”

The question leaves your mouth before you can overthink it. “So… do they really make you take psych evals in aviation school? Like, sit in a room and prove you’re not gonna fly off the handle mid-flight?”

He hums, glancing down at his hands. The moment stretches—something careful and unfinished in the space between you.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “It’s… part of it.”

You wait. Just for a second. But he doesn’t add anything.

Doesn’t look up either.

You backpedal before you realize why. “Sorry—was that a weird question?”

He finally looks at you. Smiles, but not quite like before.

“Nah. Just… not all turbulence is flight-related, you know?”

It lingers. Quiet.

You nod like you get it. You don’t push.

Instead, you check the time and start to gather your things.

“Well. I should head back to the library. Real law waits for no one.”

Caleb stands up with you. “Mind if I walk you?”

You pause. “To campus?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up as his hands disappear into his jacket pockets. “Unless that violates attorney-client privilege.”

You try to act cool. Casual.

But your heart’s doing flips like it just passed the bar on vibes alone.

“…Sure,” you say. “As long as you promise not to distract me from my constitutional crisis.”

“No promises.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t think walking back with Caleb would feel like anything.

But it does.

It doesn’t feel like the farmers market. There’s no soft buzz of vendors or distraction of overpriced produce. No easy banter. It’s just a ten-minute stroll through campus. And every step feels charged. Not tense—just aware.

Aware of the way his shoulder brushes yours every so often. Aware of the fact that he’s not saying anything too deep—but he could. And aware that whatever weight hangs between you now, it’s heavier than before. Not bitter. Just real. Like he’s thinking, maybe, just as loudly as you are.

You try to focus on the path ahead. The looming faculty building. The notes in your bag. The faint echo of de lege ferenda in the back of your brain.

But instead, your thoughts keep rerouting to him. To how beautiful he looks walking next to you—hands in his pockets, jacket slightly open, the chain around his neck just barely visible under the collar of his shirt. There’s a faint scent clinging to him—subtle cologne, warm cinnamon, and coffee. Familiar now. Unfairly comforting.

The apple charm flashes once.

And you look away.

“Campus is weirdly quiet at this hour,” he says, voice low.

You nod. “All the reasonable people went home to rest. The rest of us have finals and bad taste in coping mechanisms.”

He chuckles, a soft breath more than a laugh. “What category do I fall into?”

A breath of hesitation hangs in the air before your gaze flicks his way.

“You’re the exception.”

He arches a brow. “To which part?”

You smile, quiet. “Exactly.”

Then, casually—maybe too casually—you ask, “Why flying?”

He hesitates. Not long. But long enough.

“You already had your serious question,” he murmurs, lips quirking. “But fine. I’ll indulge you, Golden Girl…”

His gaze tilts skyward—toward the horizon where dusk spills purple into orange, soft as breath. The light kisses his skin, scattering gold across the freckles on his nose, tangling in the soft, unruly fall of his ashen brown bangs. And his eyes—those impossible eyes—catch every violet thread of sky like they were made for this hour, like the universe choreographed sunset just to wreck you slowly.

“There’s something about being up there,” he says, quieter now. “Everything feels small. Like it can’t touch you.”

You nod. “Sounds peaceful.”

He shrugs. “It used to be.”

It used to be.

You don’t press. You’re out of allowed serious questions. Dang.

He glances sideways at you, his voice a little softer. “You always this curious?”

You smirk. “I’m literally training to cross-examine people for a living.”

A quiet chuckle slips out, low and unsurprised. “Right. Should’ve seen that coming.”

The silence that follows is longer. He doesn’t fill it. Neither do you. Just the sound of your steps echoing on the pavement, both of you pretending this is still light.

And then, he says:

“I saw you.”

You stop. So does he.

His voice is softer now. Measured. “After I left you. At the farmers market. After we parted… I… I saw you walk away.”

Your throat tightens.

“I didn’t mean to—” you start.

“I know,” he says quickly. “You… don’t have to explain.”

You look away. It stings, hearing him say it. Knowing he knew. That you weren’t as invisible in your spiral as you hoped.

“She’s part of me,” he says finally, eyes on the dark stretch of sidewalk ahead. “Whether I like it or not.”

You don’t say anything.

“She was… important,” he adds. “Still is. Very much so. Maybe… In ways I wish she wasn’t.”

You glance at him. His jaw’s tight. Not sad—bitter. Quietly so.

“Serving coffee helps,” he says with a dry smile. “Stupid as that sounds. So does working. Part-time hours, full-time distraction.”

You don’t speak. Just listen. For once, you’re not cross-examining, not poking holes in the story.

“Flying was supposed to help too,” he continues. “Thought maybe if I was up there, I’d finally feel free. Untouchable. Like I could outrun… outfly all of it.”

He shakes his head. “Turns out… you land eventually. I… always get home on time. No matter how hard I try not to.”

He gives you a sideways look. Not for pity. Just to see if you’re still here.

You are.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he says. “And I didn’t want it to look like—”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. “You don’t have to explain either.”

He exhales, the sound heavy even in the cool early evening air. “Yeah, but I want to.”

You reach the steps of the faculty. He slows with you.

There’s a pause. You glance at him.

He glances at you.

Then he blinks—like he’s just realized how much he said. How serious it suddenly got. You watch him. Carefully. Then, quiet but steady:

“Caleb. Am I an emotional distraction to you?”

That familiar smirk flickers to life—like he’s winding up to make a joke about your dwindling cross-examination time. But then it falters. Softens. Something gentler bleeding in at the edges.

“You ask that like it’s a bad thing,” he murmurs. “But I don’t want you to see it that way, Golden Girl.”

You lean in, just enough that your shoulders brush—just enough to make it teasing, grounding, not heavy.

You raise a brow. “Depends. Is this a paid role?”

“Not yet,” he says, voice dropping just slightly. “But the benefits are excellent.” He exhales. Runs a hand through his hair.

“I wanted us to stay light, Golden Girl,” he mutters, then flashes a crooked, too-fast smile.

You open your mouth—don’t know what to say.

But he keeps going, softer this time.

“I like being around you,” he says, voice low. “Not because of her. Just…”

Caleb pauses, searching for the words.

“Just because it reminds me of who I used to be. Someone I could… be lighter with. Before everything got so heavy.”

You don’t say anything.

But something in your chest cracks a little—softly. Quietly.

You nod once.

Then, without thinking, he brushes your arm with his fingers. Light. Fleeting. Just enough to feel real.

He holds your gaze.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

Not a question.

A soft certainty.

You could leave it there.

You should.

But you say it anyway, like it’s no big deal:

“…You could kiss me goodnight.”

He pauses.

Raises a brow. “Yeah?”

You shrug, playing it off. “Just to test it. See if it still feels lighthearted.”

A slow grin curves across his face. “Bit early for goodnight kisses, isn’t it?”

Then softer—closer: “And if I kissed you goodnight… it wouldn’t just be a goodnight kiss.”

Your breath catches. His eyes are still open—still watching. Fingers drift forward—just enough to brush against your hair. It’s not a kiss. But it feels like one.

Then—he exhales, a little laugh under his breath.

“We’d fail the test.”

You blink. “Why?”

His voice drops.

“Because I wouldn’t want to stop.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Because the ache in your chest says it all.

Still—

You let it settle.

You let it stay.

Then he walks away.

You blink. Once. Twice.

And then you turn on your heel and book it back inside. Back to the library. Back to your laptop. Your outlines. Your annotated casebooks.

Back to your safe zone.

The water bottle hits your desk like a gavel. A granola bar follows—torn open and half-devoured like it might file your stress for you. A blank doc blinks back at the chaos.

You start typing.

——————————————————————————

Caleb v. My F*cking Sanity

Exhibit A: Apple Girl

She exists.

Confirmed visual. Confirmed hug.

Still part of him. Still hurts.

Exhibit B: The Look

He knew I saw.

Felt bad.

Explained… sort of. That’s not nothing.

Exhibit C: The communication pattern

Texted me FIRST. Flirts.

“First-class comfort.”

Braid-touching violation.

Walked me back. Said “see you soon.” Like it meant something???

Exhibit D: The confession

“You remind me of who I used to be.”

He told me. Voluntarily.

Not sad, not sweet—true. Bitter?

Exhibit E: The proximity

The almost-kiss?!?!

Stepped closer.

Eyes open the whole time.

Looked at me like I might undo him wtf

Exhibit F: The Suggestion

I joked: “You could kiss me goodnight.”

He said: “Bit early for goodnight kisses.” …..

Like… early relationship-wise or early as in it’s not bedtime yet? Fml

Exhibit G: The Verdict

“We’d fail the test,” he said.

“Because I wouldn’t want to stop.”

(I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t… jesus)

——————————————————————————

You stare at the screen.

Your heart’s still pounding.

Your fingers hover over the keys—then type one last paragraph:

——————————————————————————

Case Status: Dangerously reopened. Evidence still being collected. *And I’m starting to think I might not want to win.

——————————————————————————

Part 9

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Ahhh, here we are again, dear readers: Spiraling straight back into his orbit. There’s just something about a guy who uses :3 So… are you feeling the vibe? Picking up on what Caleb’s trying to tell us? I really hope my initial arc for him is starting to take shape, hehe. (This is, without a doubt, the only arc I can imagine Caleb having… testing, maybe even choosing someone other than the MC. The song below is Caleb’s theme song “back to you, back to you nanananaa”) Now, technically, I could drag this story out forever. I mean, the banter? The flirting? Yum. However, I was thinking about starting to wrap things up… buuuut if you’re into this, I can absolutely slow-burn it into oblivion. Let me know! Anyway, see you in the next one, and have a great weekend, peepz! Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻