#i hope this doesn’t sound like condescending or anything but. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chlorinecake · 10 months ago

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𓂃 watercolor eyes | park wonbin oneshot

⚡︎ pairing: Stoner!Wonbin x Female!Reader | ⚡︎ word count: 7.8k | ⚡︎ genre: mutual pining, college au, smut (⚠︎) | ⚡︎ contains: awkward relationships, an original character + sungchan and shotaro, swearing, drug use/distribution, angst (?), mild dacryphilia, sexual tension mixed with fluff, kissing, unprotected sex while buzzed, heavy petting, oral (m. r)

ON TOP OF countless other obligations in your life, upcoming exams were kicking your anxiety's ass with the biggest fucking boots imaginable.

All you wanted was to take the edge off, and at this point, you didn’t care what it’d take to do that.

Introducing Exhibit A: Your closest friend and roommate, Roxanne, who so conveniently happened to be a junkie.

You brought up your need for a “quick fix” (so to speak) while studying in your dorm together one afternoon. Though, she offered to get you some help from another friend of hers who you’d never met before.

“Wait, you want me to go with you?” You asked in confusion, already prepared to reject Roxanne’s proposal at the idea of personally consulting her drug dealer.

“Yes, you're coming with me… What do you think this is, Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

“No, but… I-"

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out, ____,” she chuckled, turning the steering wheel as she trailed down a shadowy lane.

“No, I… I want this… I need this even, it’s just that…I don’t really know what to expect…”

“Then don’t expect anything,” she answered, giving you an encouraging smile that came off as more condescending, “Expectations are for pussies anyways.”

“Roxanne, I’ve never even met this guy before,” you pressed, hoping that she’d maybe let you sit outside in the car instead of actually speaking with him.

“Look, I’m close with my dealer, and as I always say, a friend of mine is a friend of yours.”

Cue your internal sigh of submission.

“Okay,” you said, straightening your posture in your seat with a feigned confidence.

“Uhhhh, are you sure with that ‘okay,’ or is it more like an ‘okay, I have more questions’ type of ‘okay’?”

“No,” you clarified, “it means what I said… I’m okay.”

“Okay,” she nodded, before giving you a brief synopsis about this friend of hers: STEM major, weed connoisseur, and art-hoe with a shy guy undercut.

Doesn’t sound anywhere near as daunting as the drug dealers on TV shows appear to be, right?

She pulled up to one of the apartment complexes a few miles from your university. It was one of the lower quality establishments, with the only oddity being how nice the vehicles parked outside the apartment divisions were, a sleek black motorcycle belonging to none other than the mysterious drug smuggler named Wonbin Park.

“Hey, take off your hood, silly, it’s rude,” Roxanne nudged, locking her car from the keys in her pocket more times than necessary.

“But… what if someone sees us?,” you whispered, walking closely beside her.

“Then I’m glad their eyes are working? Hell, I don’t fucking know what they’d want me to tell ‘em,” she shrugged, walking up to the front door.

“So are you acting like a nonchalant loser on purpose, or is this just your way of trying to calm me down?”

Roxanne laughed hysterically at your words, showcasing the sparkly pink gem decorating her upper canine teeth as she patted you on the back.

“We’re just here for weed, babe. That will help calm you down before I can.”

You had almost missed the part where she knocked as you got lost in your head, the front door suddenly opening and basking you both with a sudden warmth, contrasting with the cold evening weather.

“Roxie?,” asked the male from the doorstep that you fought with every bone in your body to avoid making eye contact with.

“Wonie?” Your friend mocked goofily, walking up to hug the boy briefly before grabbing your hand and pulling you inside, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a friend.”

“Not at all, my place is always open to you and your girlfriends,” he chirped with forced yet gentle enthusiasm.

“Uhhhh, she’s just a friend, considering how we’ve only slept together while clothed before… but thanks anyway!”

“Any time,” he replied confidently, walking up to the sink that was conveniently in his living room before re-lighting the dead bud of the joint he held gracefully between his plump lips, ashes falling from the tip before he inhaled a thick huff.

Some of the ash fell on his lower abdomen, and you were just now realizing that he didn’t have a shirt on.

Good thing you were used to the smell of pot by now, thanks to Roxanne’s inevitable habit of greening out every Friday night.

“So, what brings you ladies in today? I’d hate to break it to you, but I used my last condom just a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, we’re actually here for a different kind of pipe this time,” Roxanne answered, blinking as if trying to communicate with him to ditch the wild language.

“Oh,” he said, doe eyes widening as his mouth hung a little, his bunny teeth shining right back at you.

Stop staring at his mouth.

Stop staring at his mouth-

“I uh… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything,” he smiled softly, and of course you noticed because that’s where your eyes were glued the entire time, so distracted that it startled you when he reached to shake your hand.

“I’m Wonbin, but… you can call me anything you like, really.”

“It’s alright,” you returned, finally coming back to the present, “I’m ____.”

His initially confident demeanor stemmed from his assumption that you were more flamboyant like Roxanne, but he made note to be less vulgar until he could tell you warmed up to him.

Until he properly warmed up to you.

“So uh, yeah, do you want the usual, or were you thinking to try something new?” Wonbin asked casually as he leaned on the back of the sofa.

“Hmm,” Roxie hummed in thought, “yeah, my usual’s good. Just lay off the stronger stuff in the mix, though. It’s her first time.”

Something about what she said made Wonbin smile, wide and excited, peeking at you through his shaggy bangs with zero intent of hiding it.

Was he… flirting with you?

“Well, it’s my pleasure to be your first then,” he winked, getting up from the couch and heading to another room on his flat.

“You two kittens just wait here and I’ll be back with your stuff in a minute,” he claimed, which actually ended up being around an 8 minute wait while you and Roxanne went on and on about something you can’t even remember now.

The smile evaporated from Roxanne’s face as Wonbin returned to the living room while reciting the order. “You’ve got two ounces of-”

“I know the recipe, moron. You might scare my friend away if you say it out loud…,” she joked, feigning a pout as she hugged your shoulder, “so how much do you want for it, candy man?”

“It’s on the house this time,” Wonbin said, “so long as you bring me dinner tonight.”

“Fucking fat ass,” she spat, “what’re you craving?”

“Something warm,” he replied almost immediately, “with seasoned meat and a sauce… Maybe some rice, too.”

“Gotcha,” Roxie chirped as she pushed off of her knees to stand up.

Wonbin walked up to hand her the goody bag with such politeness, almost in the way that a child would give something to his big sister.

“Cool. I like eating around 7 o’clock, so you know when and where to find me.”

“Yes, through your stomach and all the way up to your greedy little heart.”

“Mhm,” he said with a satisfied hum, taking Roxanne’s spot on the couch as she walked towards the door. You and Wonbin were now sitting next to each other, his arms spread out on the back of the couch in a relaxed manner.

“Uhm, ____?”

“Oh, right! Sorry… I didn’t know we were finished,” you stammered, getting up from the couch to meet Roxanne at the door.

“Yeah, took him long enough,” she rolled her eyes, “I was starting to think he wanted us to spend the night…”

“Alright, get out of my apartment already,” he said playfully, waving a hand as if shooing you two, “and make sure to secure the bottom lock for me, I don’t feel like getting back up yet.”

“Whatever.”

Slam.

The door was closed, 50% locked, and you two were heading back down the staircase, cold air greeting you once again before you both got back in the car, driving back to your dorm room to drop off the drugs first, and then to the grocery store…

… to buy a bag of rice and a fresh pack of chicken.

“WHAT’S THAT NOISE?,” Roxanne asked with animatedly furrowed eyebrows, holding the grocery bag you two had packed Wonbin’s “dinner” in.

You ended up making a chicken roast with carrots, potatoes, gravy, and steamed rice like he asked.

“Here, hold this,” Roxanne mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear before she dropped the bag, your reflects luckily kicking in fast enough for you to catch it before the glass container could hit the concrete stair well.

“It’s as cold as a snowman’s grave out here, Wonie, open up!,” She yelled while banging on the front door, the little dream catcher that hung on the inner side jingling with her forceful hits, “Hellooooo?”

“You’re like Doordash but with the temper of FedEx,” you heard a deep voice say from behind the walls.

“But I only charge herbal fees for my services,” she added while crossing her arms.

Creek.

The door slung open, Wonbin’s muscular arms framing the entrance with a fed up look plastered on his face.

There were two people sitting behind him on the couch playing video games. A violent game, you’d assume, given the sporadic and sharp flashes of light that filled the room.

“Is there some kind of a secret password now or something?,” Roxanne asked impatiently, not as entertained my the view of Wonbin’s still shirtless body like you were.

“Oh, right… come on in ladies,” he said with a feigned smile, extending a hand to welcome you two back in, “hope you brought enough food, because I have guests.”

You followed Roxanne and Wonbin to the kitchen, where you placed the steaming bag of food on the counter before taking out the containers. That’s when Roxanne started grabbing dishes from the cabinet.

The glass plates clinked behind you as you went to search for a serving spoon in the drawer. “Hey… where are the spoons and forks?,” you asked while still looking through one of his kitchen drawers before Wonbin suddenly tapped you on the shoulder.

“I uhm… I keep the utensils in here,” he smiled shyly, just as he reached for the overhead counter to grab the silverware he kept in a box. Your breath got caught in your chest as you felt his hips nearly fuse with yours in the moment. Luckily, he couldn’t see how flustered you appeared underneath his shadow.

“Gimme that,” Roxanne giggled, snatching the box from him and taking out two large ladles, one for the rice and another for the roast.

“Gosh, that smells amazing! Can you put cheese on mine, pretty please?,” you heard one of the boys ask from the couch, peeking over his shoulder with soft eyes.

“Yes, Taro, I can put some cheese on it for you… even though I think it’s weird,” Roxanne smiled.

“Ahh, thanks man. Oh- and who’s the new girl?” He went on, placing the controller down as he was no longer interested in playing.

“Just a friend in need of a good time—” Wonbin answered, which shocked you to say the least, “—so be nice, Sungchan.”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?,” The taller boy pitched in, “but does she even talk?”

The room went quiet for a moment, the only sound being Sungchan’s clicks from the remote controller before he got gunned down by a random player.

“Dammit, Shotaro! Why’d you stop playing? Now we’re tied with the other team!!”

“Too bad, so sad, bro. I’m hungry,” he chirped, getting up from the couch to help you bring the plates to everyone.

“Woah, who’s the big plate for?” Shotaro asked with widened eyes.

“Me and Sungchan,” Roxanne said with a satisfied smile, “we’re sharing.”

“Oh… you didn’t tell me you and Sungchan were on good terms now,” you said, breaking your awkward streak of silence, just now recognizing the taller boys face from Roxanne’s phone.

She always talked about Sungchan and his “big stupid dick,” as she liked calling it.

The pair stopped being cool with each other for reasons you don’t really remember anymore, but you’d take her sudden affection towards him over the violence you witnessed during one of her texting fits the other night.

“Shhh,” she giggled, meeting Sungchan on the couch before sitting on his lap, “I hope you don’t mind me feeding you in front of your little friends… unless that makes you shy,” she pouted.

All he did was open his mouth in response, savoring the taste of the first spoon she fed him.

It was a sickeningly cute sight to be honest.

“Sick and twisted,” Shotaro said as if reading your mind.

“Cry about it,” Sungchan joked between a mouth full of saucy rice, heart swelling from the way Roxanne cooed at him.

You and Wonbin were just now making it to the living room after getting some napkins for everyone. There was room left for the two of you on the couch thanks to Roxie sitting on Sungchan’s lap, but that meant you and Wonbin would be sandwiched together in the middle.

Great.

“Come on guys, take a seat,” Roxie said before taking a bite of the food, her teeth grazing the metal fork with a loud scrap.

“God, I hate when you do that,” Sungchan sighed, tickling her sides as she laughed uncontrollably.

“Stop that, asshole, before I drop this food everywhere!”

“That’d be a shame, this chicken is so good,” Wonbin hummed with a nod, stuffing his cheeks with more of the gravy.

“____ made it,” Roxie pitched, giving you a look.

Despite how hard you tried to fight it, you were started to feel pretty awkward.

You knew it had a lot to do with Wonbin, thanks to his cripplingly annoying quirk to not put a damn shirt on.

You did eventually warm up to everyone, even pitching in on some of Sungchan’s dad jokes.

Though, the stack of empty dishes in the center of the living room table seemed more alive than your spirits right now.

The inevitable tiredness that came with staying up late without a phone in your hand started to kick in.

“Hey, I’m gonna go wash up these dishes real quick,” Wonbin said, glancing your way for reasons you almost couldn’t process between the loud laughter of Shotaro and Roxie over whatever dirty joke Sungchan told about SpongeBob and Patrick.

Did he want you to come with him? Alone?

Yes.

By now, Wonbin was no longer in the living room, having walked to the kitchen sink where he proceeded to run soapy dish water.

The scent of lemon wafted through the dimly lit space as you stepped beside him to get the dish towel.

“Sorry,” you said nervously, noticing the way he jumped as your hand grazed his arm slightly.

“It’s alright, you just surprised me,” Wonbin smiled, drying his hands before walking over to the other side of the counter, opening a plastic bag filled with what appeared to be blunt wraps and another bag filled with fluffy green.

“You just leave that stuff out on your counter?,” You asked, voice kind of quiet over the running water.

“Mhm…,” he started, “it’s not like the cops are just gonna raid my house randomly… unless… you were to say something,” he winked, putting a filler along the inside of the wrap before sprinkling in some herb, then tucking it tightly.

“Your secrets safe with me,” you said, the faucet squeaking as you turned the water off.

“____.”

“Yes?” You asked in confusion almost… he was already starting to use your name so normally.

“Pass me that lighter from over there,” he pointed before sticking his tongue out, licking the inner side on the blunt wrap to seal it.

His pretty tongue glistened underneath the kitchen lights, captivating you once again.

Fuck, stop staring, you internally swore at yourself.

He put the blunt between his lips, waiting for you to light the tip. “Stop moving, silly,” you giggled, holding his face in place with your other hand to keep him still as he playfully moved his head around to give you a hard time.

A tiny giggle erupted from his throat, too, making your smile linger for a little longer before he bid his thanks, inhaling a huff of the smoke and exhaling it through his nose.

“Hmmm,” he hummed as he cleared his throat. By now you were leaning against the sink with no intention of washing the dishes any time soon. No intention of leaving the kitchen, either.

“C’mere,” he offered, reaching for your chin in the same way you did to him earlier before inching closer to your face.

“Wonbin-”

“Just part your lips for me, okay?” He asked in a light voice, “I want you to try it with me.”

You nodded at his words, hesitantly parting your lips as he slowly set the blunt between the opening you allowed for him.

“Okay now seal your lips,” he said, licking his own, “and inhale… slowly.”

You obeyed his words, taking a steady breath in as the warm and cloudy smoke filled your mouth… then your stomach… then your senses.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, coughing at the way the smoke hit the back of your throat, to which Wonbin only laughed at your reaction.

“Good job, newbie,” he teased, running you a glass of water before passing it to you, your teary eyes staring back at him in a mix of embarrassment, regret, and intrigue.

“How was hitting it,” he asked, pearly eyes staring back at you.

“Just as bad as I thought,” you admitted.

“Yeah… they effects will start kicking in pretty fast, too,” he chuckled, proceeding to take a huff from the same blunt. “But,” he started, voice falling to an alto, “you know that wasn’t free, right?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, watching as he lazily cradled the joint in his two fingers.

“I only do favors for Roxie because we’re chill like that…,” he paused, biting his lip derisively as he tilted his head, “I hardly know you, though.”

You didn’t even bother checking your pockets because you knew you came empty handed.

“Aww, what is it, baby?,” he cooed, turning your chin to face him again as he took another huff from the joint.

“I didn’t bring any cash with me, unfortunately,” you replied with a halfhearted expression, already feeling yourself get dizzy.

He noticed the way you began to tear up even more from the smoke he was now gently blowing in your face.

“You’re eyes look pretty right now,” he smiled, staring way harder than he should’ve, “how do you feel?”

All of a sudden your core starting to heat up, making your legs feel as though you were merely hovering over the floor. You didn’t feel grounded anymore because you were overcome with a feeling of light.

“A little warm,” you started dryly, “but like… numb and euphoric at the same time.”

“In here?” He asked, placing a hand on your upper stomach, resting dangerously close to your tits.

“No…. It’s uh… a bit lower,” you said, reaching for his wrist before pulling his hand away from you.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of a colorful splash decorating his wrist. “That’s pretty,” you smiled, adoring the tattoo from afar.

“You think so?” He asked sarcastically before whispering in your ear, “too bad compliments won’t pay my bills.”

You sighed at his words, watching as he braced his body weight on the counter before your right hand found a mind of it’s own, reaching out to trace a line up his defined abdomen.

“Then allow me to repay you in another way,” you offered, poking his flesh with your nail a bit, “you like my cooking, don’t you?”

“Very much so, yes. But you could try pleasing me somewhere else… ‘A bit lower,’ like you said,” he whispered seductively, eyes in a daze as he guided your hand by your delicate wrist to the center of his belt buckle, a line of hair leading to the bulge buried behind his baggy jeans.

A thick vein trailed from his thumb to his forearm before his grip left your wrist.

“Wanna take a closer look?” He offered, drawing your attention back to the colorful spot on his skin even though your first mind thought he was talking about something naughtier.

“Sure,” you answered quietly, taking his hand again to examine the design, “a butterfly?”

“A moth, actually… it’s a little more masculine if you ask me,” he added, the shadow of a proud smile ghosting over his lips.

“But it has watercolored eyes,” you pointed out.

“True… So it’s like.. more ambiguous I guess?”

“Maybe… or it could just be a beautiful man,” you voiced, stroking over his skin with the pad of your thumb.

You liked this.

The look of his skin, but more so the way it felt.

The way touching him made you feel.

“Uhmmmm, guys?,” Shotaro cried out from the living room, the energy in his voice breaking the stillness of the moment, “I’m pretty sure Sungchan and Roxie are about to start fucking each other in a few seconds, and I could use a little help in here!”

You and Wonbin made eye contact at Shotaro’s words, the same thought filling both your heads:

“What?”

“Just get in here, quickly! They’re taking each others clothes off!!!”

“FUCK, MY STOMACH still hurts like a bitch from laughing so hard yesterday night,” Roxie sighed, cheeks a flushed hue either from the three shots of brandy she just guzzled or the three comforters she was wrapped in on her side of your shared room.

“Yeah… I had a great time hanging out with everyone,” you said, only half-present as other thoughts floated around in your mind.

Thoughts about when you would get to see Wonbin again?

What you two would even do?

How Roxanne would react if she knew Wonbin had been stuck in your mind like gum on a-

“What the hell are you thinking about?”

Oh shit.

“Uhm… Nothing, why?”

“It’s gotta be something,” Roxie pressed, staring at you from across the room through her false eyelashes, “you were moaning in your sleep last night with that same look on your face.”

Wow. She was quite a fast talker for someone so tipsy.

“I was?”

“Mhm,” she smirked cheekily, trailing a finger along the knitted seam of her bed sheet.

“Tell me who you were thinking about… I’ll know if you’re lying, too,” she pressed.

“I was just… gosh, why is that making me so flustered,” you sighed, hiding your face in your pillows.

“C’mon, spit it out, ____!”

“I was thinking about Wonie, okay?,” you finally admitted, hoping it would make her shut up.

“Hmm…,” she started with a satisfied smirk, “you’ve already starting calling him by a nickname, I see… what’s up with that?”

“Nothing at all,” you smiled aggressively, watching as she spread herself out on the mattress like a star fish, “would you like me to call Sungchan over to keep you company while I’m out?”

“He’s already on his way over, silly,” she smiled, flexing her fingers around nothing, “wait, where are you going, anyway?”

“Nowhere special… probably just gonna talk a walk around campus. But don’t worry, I’ll wait for your boyfriend to get here before I leave.”

She pouted at your words, lower lip poking out like a baby, “Aww… stupid… big dick Sungie’s my boyfriend… ehehe…”

SUNGCHAN SHOWED UP shortly after you managed to get Roxanne back to bed. Praying that they wouldn’t end up fucking in your bedroom while you were gone, you put on a jacket with hopes of taking that walk to clear your head, even though now you simply hit a joint to calm your nerves.

That’s when you heard a pair of footsteps approaching from outside your door, just as you were about to zip up your winter boots.

Knock, knock, knock.

A a warm feeling erupted in your stomach, making your fingers freeze at your ankles.

Standing up to peek through the door-hole, you saw Wonbin’s plump lips first, before his bright brown eyes stared back at you.

Shit, why was he here?

“Hey, I can hear you breathing from behind the door… well, whoever you are,” he giggled, which made you giggle a bit too.

There’s no way you were gonna get out of this now, but you still counted down from ten before opening the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, letting him in, “don’t know how you got on campus, let alone to my dorm room, but okay.”

“I’m friends with Roxie, remember?”

“Yes, but I don’t remember you visiting here before… like, ever.”

Even if he had, it’s not like you’d be able to forget a face or presence like his.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” you teased, poking him in the stomach to which he smiled.

That terribly cute smile of his.

“Yeah I uh… wear them sometimes,” he replied, adjusting the beanie he wore before speaking again, “Where is she, anyway?”

“Pretending to be asleep so I can cuddle with her while she sucks on me… well… not there but… nevermind,” Sungchan interupted, walking from the room with now disheveled hair.

“Hell, I left for like three seconds, what happened,” you asked, observing the fresh purple bruise on Sungchan’s neck.

“Roxie gets unbelievably horny whenever she’s drunk for some reason, and I refuse to do anything with her when half of her mind is on fucking mars,” he sighed, going to the fridge and pulling out a can of soda.

“She’s lucky I let her do this much… Wait- I thought you said you weren’t coming?” Sungchan said to Wonbin with a suspicious look.

So Wonbin was invited to your place. How fun.

“Ahh, I changed my mind out of boredom...”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded while walking to the front door, “I’ve gotta go get a lighter from my truck, but I’ll be back if Roxie asks for me.”

“Hey uh, me and ____ can go get it for you if you want,” Wonbin offered, flashing you a look.

“Really, I mean I parked pretty far away, but-”

“It’s fine, really, I saw where your truck on my way here.“

“____?” Sungchan said your name as if searching for your approval, to which you nodded which a humble, “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Alright then, go ahead. But take your time though so you don’t slip and break your asses…”

WONBIN LOOKED IN the roof compartment of Sungchan’s truck, just as the lighter fell down, slipping between the small crack in the seat.

“Shit,” he cursed upon trying to reach for it, “my hands too big to get it.”

“Hey, I can try getting it for you,” you offered, watching as he made room for you to take his place in the vehicle.

The drawstring of your underwear clinging to your hips as your shirt fell down your waist with gravity.

“Are you wearing a thong?” Wonbin asked, cold index finger hooking with the thin strap of your panties before pulling back and releasing it with a snap.

“Ahh, what the hell, Won!,” You yelped, retreating from the seat to swat his hands from you, “you’re supposed to be helping me!”

“No, we’re supposed to be helping Sungchan. Now get back to work,” he order you playfully, pointing back down to where the lighter fell.

You shook your head, bending back over in an attempt to retrieve the lighter once again.

He was only teasing you because he wanted to see more of your personality.

He couldn’t say that things were moving fast between you thanks to the inevitably awkward grounds your first impression of each other was cultivated upon, but he still wanted to get past the shy stage.

Skip all of the a baby steps and just start running with you.

Weakened grunts fell from your lips as you desperately fished for the lighter, your hips looking a mere second from bursting through your tight jeans given the position you were in.

“Shit,” Wonbin cursed under his breath, feeling a sense of warmth grow on his cheeks as he darted his eyes away from you.

“Oh,” you said with a muffled sounding voice.

“Um, y-yeah? What’s up?” He stuttered, still looking off into the distance.

“I’ve got the lighter… And some spare change,” you chirped, clasping the findings in your hand before reaching a foot down cautiously.

“Isn’t that stealing?” Wonbin teased, finally looking back to only see your foot slipping on the wet condensation from the truck’s running board.

“____, watch your step!” He called out with a slightly raised voice, his hands finding your waist to protect your fall, which only led to you both tumbling down together.

A strained groan erupted from Wonbin’s throat as his back hit the cold hard ground first, your body weight falling onto his center as your hands hit the gravel, slightly scuffing your skin.

You hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed the entire time until you finally opened them, the coins you held being scattered about as Wonbin’s wide bunny eyes scanned you with shock.

His arms framed his head, nose a little red from the weather and a sprinkle of snowflakes dusting his black beanie.

“Are you…are you okay?,” he started, voice trailing off as it finally clicked in his mind that you were straddling him on the ground, essentially in public.

He couldn’t pin a finger on what it was about you that made him feel all shy like this, especially whenever he wasn’t buzzed.

“I-I’m… uh… I’m fine,” you stuttered, freeing him of your body weight and extending a hand to help him up.

“Thank you,” he huffed, a puff of cold air escaping his mouth before circling around your warm bodies, “I told you to watch your step….”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that those stupid coins distracted me,” you shivered, just now feeling the effects of the weather as goosebumps sprouted on your skin, “At least I got the lighter, though!”

Wonbin chuckled, both at your enthusiastic words and the uncanniness of this moment, taking off his beanie and adjusting it over your head before closing the door to Sungchan’s truck, pulling you close to him by the shoulder.

“Alright… let’s get back inside before we both freeze to death.”

AFTER GOING BACK inside, Sungchan had somehow managed to get Roxie out of bed, the four of you sitting on the couch while watching a random movie till midnight.

It all brought you a strange sense of déjà vu. You and Wonbin sitting awkwardly together while Roxie and her Sungchan sat like Siamese twins. The only thing missing, aside from some good home cooked food, was Shotaro’s infectious smile and a recreational drug in your system.

A soul booster.

You had gotten lost in your thoughts again, not even realizing when Roxie kissed Sungchan goodnight before he headed home.

Nor when Wonbin pretended to be sleep so no one would wake him as you slept peacefully on his shoulder.

Nor how he left your side once Roxie went to her room to sleep, reaching for the dust-ridden acoustic guitar hiding in a corner of your loft after a long forgotten ex-roommate left it behind as a “farewell” gift.

Nor the warm and woody melody he started to play from the other end of the couch, the gentle hums from his throat luring your busy mind from its slumber.

Your eyes opened with lazy blinks, vision slowly keening in on the lit joint that hung from his mouth, the sound of his fingers sliding against the fretboard and strings sending shivers down your spine.

Or maybe that had more to do with the winter air thrumming through your dorm room's cheap windows.

From the look outside, you’d guess it was sometime around 1am.

The stars were sparkling in the sky and the world beneath almost dead quiet.

“Oh- sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Wonbin said in a half-whisper, noticing the way you were glancing at him before taking the blunt from his mouth.

“Oh, no… it’s okay, I was just… I didn’t mind…” your words trailed off to a mumble as you sat up a little straighter on the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “What song was that? It sounded really pretty from what I heard.”

“Yesterday… by the Beatles,” he smiled, getting up to set the guitar back in its original place of abandonment, “it would’ve sounded even better though if I had a pick with me.”

He took another huff from the blunt, exhaling through his nose in a familiar manner as he offered it to you, “Want some?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, taking the blunt from his hand before inhaling the herb yourself, though, it was slightly different from the one you had in Wonbin’s kitchen the other night.

“It’s some of Sungchan’s pot,” he said in a husk voice as if reading your mind, “Don’t go too crazy though, ‘cause his shit’s pretty strong.”

He peeked at you through his wavy bangs, waiting for a cough from you that never came.

“Are you buzzed yet?” You asked after taking another huff or two yourself, playing with the smoke in your mouth before blowing it out slowly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “don’t know how I managed to play a full song, but... yeah... I'm trashed.”

“It must be a talent, I guess,” you hummed at his words, just now noticing the lit candles sitting at random areas in the kitchen and living room.

Good thing, because it helped to drown out the scent of marijuana.

“What else are you good at doing while high?”

His tongue clicked at the roof of his mouth as a subtle yet unmistakable smirk creeped on his face, perfectly matching the rosy hue that began to stain his cheeks.

“You thought of something dirty, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” he chuckled, widening the distance between his legs a bit as he sat.

Was he… teasing you?

Your eyes fell down to the blunt he placed on the ashtray beside the table, it’s lit bud ceasing with a quiet hiss.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t free either, huh?” You joked, shaking your head at yesterday's memory.

“Nope,” he smiled, “but… you still haven’t returned the favor from your first hit, so I won’t be too mean for now.”

Of course he’d bring that up again.

Right here, right now as you sat mere inches in distance from each other, both buzzed out of your minds.

“And if you were to be mean,” you started hesitantly, biting your lower lip before continuing, “what would that look like?”

He thought on your words carefully before answering, “Well, I doubt it’ll ever come to that anyway, so don't worry about it.”

“Oh, and is it the weed making you confident all of a sudden?”

“No, just the simple fact that you’ll pretty much do anything I tell you to.”

You scoffed, “That’s crazy talk.”

“Is it?“ he pressed, inching closer to you. "Kiss me,” he said, lips just a gentle wind's push from touching yours.

You didn’t budge, but your heart beat escalated all the same.

“Cute,” he smirked, his large hand finding the length of your neck, gliding up to your jawline as his thumb toyed with your lower lip. “I can see it all over your face that you want me, ____.”

“Then why are you asking for it?,” you teased.

“Because I wanted to hear you say it first… even though I already knew you’d let me do this,” he whispered, closing the space between you with a kiss, his warm mouth engulfing yours as the scent of his woody cologne filled your senses.

His other hand found your lower back, pulling you impossibly close to him as the sound of both your hearts beating and his needy grunts consumed you.

Much like the watercolor moth on his wrist, Wonbin’s gentle and vibrant masculinity couldn’t get any more precious in this moment.

This is exactly what he was looking forward to, whether he decided to guise it under the façade of a favor or be completely straight up with you, he finally got you right where you wanted.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you tugged a bit, desperate to hear more of his pretty sounds before the shadow of a smile wavered over Wonbin’s face at your actions, up until he felt your knee bump his hard-on through his pants, causing him to hiss.

“You’re being rough with me,” he said in between kissing your mouth, his hot and thick tongue darting past your lips as the kiss become messier.

Louder.

“And?” You asked, pulling away from his lips before leaving a trail of wetness down his neck, paying extra attention to a spot that made him twitch in his seat.

“And it’s so fucking hot,” he almost moaned when your teeth grazed his skin, his back meeting the couch arm as you subconsciously grinded your hips against his pants, straddling him.

“Is this how you wanted me earlier,” you said, stopping your movements, “when we were outside in the cold?”

By now his shirt was off and your fingers unbuckling his belt with gentle clinking sounds from the metal.

“No,” he said in an impossibly deep voice, looking dead at you as he spoke, “My first mind wanted to fuck you silly in the backseat… but I couldn’t to that to you.”

You giggled at his choice of words given how high you were, shimmying his pants down a bit further before halting at the waistband of his boxers, palming him gently through the fabric.

“Why not?” You asked in a soft voice, contrasting with the fierce grip you had on his clothed shaft.

“Because... even though you’re being an impossible tease right now, I felt like you deserved better than to be fucked in your best friends boyfriend's truck,” he said with a shaky voice, gripping at the couch to contain himself.

You appreciated his consideration in your heart, but didn’t wanna say anything out loud, especially not while your hands were on him like this.

And thank God for these thick curtains, otherwise the whole world would’ve seen how red his throbbing tip looked after finally being freed from the restrictions of his boxers.

You started at the base of his length before gliding upwards, spitting on the head that was already leaking a bit of his early release.

You started to pump him slowly, pearly white precum standing out as it mixed with your clear spit like watercolor.

“Use your mouth for me,” he almost begged, eyes falling victim to a blurry haze as his knuckles turned white with his grip on the cushions.

You teased him a bit by letting your warm breath ghost over his tip, eliciting a groan from him as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

The desperation inside of him only grew from here as your warm and wet lips finally wrapped around him.

You hollowed your cheeks a bit, hands resting at either side of his hips as you began using your tongue to help you take him inch by inch.

“Mmm, feels so fucking good, baby,” he said with a strained voice, his hands finding your head before his thumbs grazed your lips, one of them prying to squeeze itself into your mouth with his already thick cock.

The sight alone was enough to make him buss, so he threw his head back, biting his lip harshly to contain his sounds.

You hummed against his dick, almost feeling it in your chest once his hands pushed your head down further.

He just couldn’t deal with your teasing anymore, wanting to feel you more than he could begin to explain.

He bucked his hips upwards, rutting into your mouth like a bunny in heat. “Aww, fuck,” he cursed, watching the way your eyes glazed with tears.

He always managed to see you crying one way or another, and he loved it every single time.

Your fingernails dug into his sides as the sound of your gagging became hard to miss. He released your head with a sigh, panting as both of your faces burned with heat.

He didn’t expect you to start pumping him again though as soon as your mouth left his cock, but you knew he’d end up missing your warmth in seconds anyways.

“I wasn’t trying to be mean when I did that, by the way,” he sighed, biting his lip as you looked back at him with moist eyelashes, “I just couldn’t hold bac- nghhh~.”

A broken moan escaped his mouth once your hands found his balls, gently cradling them in your hands while alternating with pressures, your other hand still stroking him.

“I’m doing quite the favor for you, Wonbin,” you said with a rasp voice, your throat a bit sore from his actions on top of the smoke you huffed earlier, but he figured it made you sound hotter anyway. “Are you sure I’m not overdoing it?”

“Mmm… no, p-please don’t stop, baby,” he whimpered shamelessly, screwing his eyebrows tightly.

You felt yourself clench around nothing at the nickname, and judging from the way his face changed, you’d bet he noticed.

By now, he could hardly keep still, the muscles in his stomach flexing just as you felt his balls tighten, just as he was finished, chest heaving with need as you rode out his high.

That's when you started to take off your jeans, tossing them in the corner somewhere as he practically drooled at the sight of you in just a baggy top and panties, a dark spot forming at the center of your core where your arousal started to leak through.

“____,” he paused you, bringing you into his lap, your warm core sitting right atop his aching hardness, “you don’t have to go this far if you don’t want to.”

“Well maybe this isn’t just about me owing you anymore,” you whispered, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, “what if I want this?”

His cock stimulated you through your panties as he thought on your words, subconsciously rocking your hips back and forth.

“Then I’ll let you have your way with me…” he said with a rasp whisper, kissing up your neck as one of his hands massaged your tits, his other hand sneaking past your underwear to find your soaking wet clit, rubbing it slowly but with such a pressure that your fingers clung to his broad shoulders.

“I want you to make me feel like I’m falling apart,” he groaned against your skin, spreading your slick all over your aching pussy lips, “I want you to ruin me.”

You didn't waste any time with aligning him at your entrance, sliding down with ease most of the way given how wet you were.

He groaned as your tight walls fully consumed him.

“Fuck~,” you whined, feeling euphorically full as he started thrusting into you, hands gripping at your back as he became overstimulated inside you.

The drugs must've made you feel extra sensitive, especially with the way his tip fucked against your g-spot. You looked into his teary eyes, stoking his face as you helped to bounce with his movements, lewd sounds bouncing off of the walls.

“You’re being so fucking good for me, baby, just like that," he moaned as you clenched around him, too high to give a damn about filling you up raw with thick spurts of his cum.

“Wonie,” you whimpered, feeling as his hands roamed all over your climaxing body.

You felt every part of him in every part of you, and to say the least, it was worth all the awkward moments it took to get here.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke up with your head resting on Wonbin’s chest, his messy hair spread about his head as you felt his breath faintly on your head. You probably looked like two babies with the way you were cuddling each other under the blanket.

It was a sickeningly cute sight, one might say.

“Sick and twisted,” you heard Shotaro say in the back of your mind, just as Wonbin groaned beneath you with a cat-like yawn.

“I still feel high,” was the first thing he said, making you giggle a little more than necessary before looking him in the face, the effects of your night together ever-present on his face.

“I feel…good,” you smiled.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hummed back, peeling yourself from his body as you blinked the tiredness from your eyes.

“You can keep a secret, right?” He asked hesitantly, voice barely audible given how quietly he spoke.

“With my whole life,” you answered, now making eye contact with him which was surprisingly way easier to do than a day ago.

He found your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “We should do each other favors more often… but… maybe not call it that.”

Was he initiating a sexual relationship with you?

Maybe something more?

“Well…” you started curiously, “what would you wanna call it instead, then?”

A grin peeped on his face that quickly softened when he licked his lips, giving your hand a squeeze once again before parting his lips to speak. “Maybe-”

“Fuck,” Roxanne sighed with annoyance, “you horny ducks didn’t blow my candles out last night… now the wax is no good,” she sulked.

“Oh, s-sorry about that, Roxie, we were smoking and it helped the smell,” Wonbin answered first.

“… wait, did you just call us horny ducks?” You asked with a mix of confusion, offense, and realization.

She heard you two.

Hell, of course she did.

“What? You think I didn’t hear Wonbin and his vocal ass practically singing as you did… whatever you did to him…?,” She rambled on, washing her hands in the sink before pulling some from produce from the fridge.

“Oh my God,” Wonbin cringed at himself, covering his face with his hands, though his ears were clearly burning red now.

“The blanket… you brought it in here, didn’t you,” you asked her, just now noticing that it was one she kept at the end of her bed.

“Yep! You’re welcome, freaks,” she chirped through a mouthful of raw celery, drawing your attention to the knife and cutting board she handled, “I’m gonna need your help soon though, ____. We're cooking for a mini get-together later with Taro and Sungchan.”

You hummed at her words, folding up the blanket while thankful that despite how high you two were last night, you managed to put your clothes back on before the sun came up.

“You guys should get cleaned up first, too, by the way,” she said, side-eyeing you as she diced a few green onions. “And preferably not at the same time, please... I’ve heard enough moans for the rest of this week, thanks to you two.”

⚡︎ a/n: I just wanna say thank you to everyone who read this goofy lil piece I wrote !! It's been a while since I wrote something that wasn't requesting, and I had so much fun getting back in my creative mode again !! Hopefully you guys enjoyed it as much as I did huhu !!

📍 check out my NEW RIIZE masterlist

⚡︎ tag list: @ashgonedash @jaylaxies @fakeuwus @ot7sevenlvr @nqvgue @riizebinnie @cherriruto @sungbbinieworld @kvstjwonnie @yjshannie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @nikisdubblchococake @babigriin @greasywall @snrrpyzen @squoxle @wonbinkisser @quirkymoon @bominute @serenityqtz @bahraini-aphrodite @jewjewbee04 @minslatte @svtf1lms @suquitoz @hyunilinia @yeonkis @pixiewoni @loljungwon @sunwonkiworld @iizanaa @bambseung @deadpool15 @s1eepyanahi @wearscvn @spkyfy @urfavmommy @anna-357j @numberonetaleprince @write4cench @choqolei @zhonglele02 @xenkimmie @whoslio @leeknow-minho2 @songbird033

#riize smut #riize x reader #wonbin smut #wonbin x reader #riize scenarios #park wonbin #jung sungchan #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize ff

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penny00dreadful · 11 months ago

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STWG Prompt: Missed Mistletoe

“Oh, Robbie!” Steve sing-songed out in a tone of voice that told Eddie he was up to no good.

Robin didn’t seem to notice, just giving a questioning hum in response, her head still stuck in Steve’s tv cabinet, looking for something to watch.

“Looks like you missed something.” Steve continued to sing, slowly approaching her from around the coffee table.

“What-?” Robin poked her head out, looking confusedly in Steve’s direction who had turned on the innocent big puppy dog eyes, twirling a sprig of mistletoe that he’d plucked from somewhere.

“No, Steve. Absolutely not.” She said, backing away as he continued to approach. “You keep those boy cooties away from me!”

“You gotta pay the toll, Birdie.” He shook it at her again as he approached.

Robin turned her eyes towards her girlfriend and Eddie, perched the couch, painting their nails.

Chrissy shrugged at her. “You gotta pay the toll, baby.”

Eddie didn’t respond, just sulked down at the polish.

He didn’t get told to pay the toll.

He’d have loved to be told to pay the toll.

A high pitched squeal made him look up and he was treated to the sight of Steve chasing Robin around the room. Though she was shouting at him to stay away, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face and he knew Steve wouldn’t be pushing it if Robin was actually uncomfortable.

She made a sudden break for the stairs and while Eddie could hear them scrambling up, Chrissy nudged him in the ribs.

“Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting. I don’t pout. If anything I’m brooding.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Okay, stop brooding then.”

“How can I? She’s stealing all my kisses.”

“He probably doesn’t know you even want to kiss him.”

“Have I not made it obvious enough?”

“Have you said it to him, using your big boy words? Or have you just stared at him wistfully from across the room, hoping he would get the message.”

Eddie glared at her, scowling at the nail polish bottles before muttering “The second one.”

“Exactly.” Chrissy gave him a condescending pat on the head. “Maybe try a new strategy.”

“Chris!” Robin screamed from the landing, throwing the sprig of mistletoe she’d somehow managed to wrench from Steve’s grasp through the air towards them.

It was way too wide of a throw but Chrissy wasn’t cheer team captain for nothing, stretching over the coffee table as it skidded along the wood to catch it before it disappeared over the ledge.

She sat back with a little fist bump to herself, bringing the sprig close to her cheek before Steve materialised next to her, snatching it back and smacking a sloppy kiss against that same cheek and taking off again to the sound of Robin’s outraged screams.

Eddie crossed his arms and turned what he hoped was a heartbroken expression on Chrissy.

“Now you’re stealing my kisses? You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“I am your best friend, and as your best friend I’m telling you you need to make it more obvious and not just hope he gets it.”

Eddie huffed, turning his eyes around the room before his gaze landed on the bundle of mistletoe tied over the front door.

With a new plan in mind he pushed himself up to standing and dragged one of the sturdier looking end tables over the floor until it was sitting just underneath his prize.

“Ed, what the hell are you doing?” Chrissy asked, watching him like he was a cat trying to climb into a Christmas tree.

Eddie clambered up until he was nearly eye level with the greenery. Jesus, Steve’s doorways we’re tall. The end table was a little wobbly but it was fine. He was pretty sure it was solid wood and it would probably take a train running over it to break it.

“Making it more obvious.” He muttered, tongue between his teeth as he tried to untie it from the small nail it had been attached to.

“Oh my god, Eddie-” she muttered to herself, drowned out by the unmistakable sounds of Steve finally capturing Robin up and pressing wet sloppy kisses to her cheeks while she weakly shrieked about boy cooties in between her giggles.

Eddie nearly had it, he just needed to change the angle a little bit and-

He stepped back a little too far and felt his stomach fly out of his throat with that sickening feeling of stepping through nothing, like missing a step on the stairs.

There was a great big clatter as the table teetered out from underneath him and then he was falling.

He felt the impact the whole way up his back as he landed hard on his ass, momentarily breathless and shocked as Chrissy screamed out for him.

The back of his head throbbed. He’d probably hit it against the door on his way down and he rubbed it gingerly with a grimace as he sat up properly, feeling the tenderness right at the base of his spine.

“Eddie?!” Steve’s panicked voice reached him and he blinked his eyes open to see the man himself skidding to a stop next to him and crouching down, his eyes worried.

“‘M fine.”

Well.

So much for that plan.

He tried to wave them away but winced again when he moved his head.

“Can you girls get me one of the ice packs from the freezer?” Steve asked.

Robin and Chrissy nodded to him, their eyes worried before turning and rushing out towards the kitchen.

Steve turned his furrowed brow back towards him. “Any nausea, double vision?”

“I’m not concussed, Stevie, don’t worry. Just a little bruised.”

“What on earth were you doing?”

Eddie looked up at Steve hovering over him, his great big concerned eyes and his pink pouting mouth. He felt his own eyes slide from Steve’s face up towards the mistletoe which was gently rocking side to side, still above the door.

Steve followed his gaze up and huffed out a little laugh.

“Y’know,” he said, his cheeks a little pink. “I had a plan for that, if you’d only waited a few hours.”

“You… what?”

“I was gonna use that to kiss you before you left.” Steve pointed up, grinning down at him while Eddie could do nothing but blink.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Eddie was forced to close his eyes at his own mortification, letting his head fall back against the door, ignoring the pain that came along with it.

Something lightly bumped him on the head and bounced into his lap.

When he opened his eyes, he looked down to find that same sprig of mistletoe he’d tried to untie had fallen down, hitting him on the forehead as it made its journey directly towards his fucking dick, because the universe was funny like that.

He chanced a glance up at Steve who was also staring down at it, his cheeks getting even redder.

Eddie swallowed down his nerves before asking “Pay the toll?”

Steve snapped his eyes up and grinned leaning forward and Eddie thought for one horrifying moment that Steve was gonna do it. That it was going to happen in front of his obscenely big front door and out in the open where the girls could walk back in at any second.

But Steve just gripped Eddie by the chin and leant forward, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

Oh.

Yeah, that was just as good.

But based on the look on Steve's face, he didn't think it would be too long before he could claim the toll fully paid.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #penny00dreadful #eddie x steve #stwgdailyprompt #robin buckley #stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #dailydrabble #missed mistletoe #christmas #mistletoe #pre relationship

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nats-revival · 10 months ago

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𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

#wlfabby #tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part two #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ellie x afab!reader #ellie smut #tlou x reader smut

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sammyluvr · 2 months ago

Text

makes you wonder — sam winchester

cw : gn!awkward!reader, fluff, uses y/n, some of the lore/history is totally made up, swearing, workplace bullying/verbal harassment (i’m so sorry if your name is mark, he’s the asshole character), likely contains a few mistakes, mentions of canon typical violence and monsters, 5.2K words. requested !

summary : you’re the local expert on ancient weaponry, and fake fbi agent sam needs your help finding a certain dagger for a case. pronunciation guide (using scottish gaelic) : each-uishge — yahk-oosh-ga (hk is pronounced in the back of the throat like loch). biodag — bidag (the g is almost a k sound) [ disclaimer, i found these pronunciations off of the internet! i’m not scottish nor do i speak scottish gaelic, so if anyone can correct anything i got wrong, i’d be super grateful for it! ]

certainly including the fact that it’s exactly what you want to be doing, working as a curator at your city’s history museum is near total perfection for you. not without much hard work and research, you were able to get a job that focuses on your specialty. historic weaponry. plus, your extra knowledge and fascination with mythologies and folklore gave you the perfect edge (pun intended) during interviews.

as a plus, you’re also able to spend minimal time interacting with people, even less so with those who don’t share the common interest of at least museum curation. of course, even that can’t magic away your awkwardness, and you still dread team meetings, but none of your coworkers save the resident asshole care at all when you stumble over your words or speak in clunky sentences. you’re smart, kind, and good at your job, so everyone except mark lessinger is more than happy to have you around. mark, the aforementioned resident asshole, is only around still because he’s the single person for miles who cares about the bland history of the town that is “strongly encouraged” by the local government to be kept in the museum. you’re sure he doesn’t do anything other than watch tv shows at his desk, lounge in the museum café. and make snide comments about anybody he can, because that exhibit hasn’t been updated in years and likely never will be unless something spectacular happens.

when you hear the click of the office door opening, you glance up from the work on your desk on instinct. it’s no surprise to see the devil himself (a mean and entirely pathetic thirty-four year old white man) walk through the door. mark was probably off slacking in the café like he does whenever he can get away with it, which is often considering he has nothing helpful to offer anyway.

it’s the man who follows him that snags at your gaze and keeps your eyes lingering on the doorway for a second longer than usual. in the split second that you take his appearance in, you’re surprised by how much you want to keep looking at him, rather than the diagram of a seventeenth century revolver you’re hoping to include in the exhibit you’re planning for next fall. the gun is fascinating to you, moreso than just about anyone who could walk in that door. but something about this man is beautiful, so much so that you don’t want to look away. then both mark’s and his eyes fall on you, and you snap your chin back down to refocus on your work. this, of course, doesn’t work, because you can still feel them looking at you.

“that’s them right there. you know, weapons are the only thing that they’re useful for,” mark begins to ramble, and now you know without a doubt that they’re headed towards you, “which, unfortunately, isn’t very helpful at all most of the time. but maybe they can do you some good, agent.”

that word is what catches your attention; you don’t even blink at the condescending tone to his voice or the fact that he doesn’t make any sort of attempt to hide his criticisms from you or this agent. you don’t even look up until the two men are right at your desk, so you miss the judgemental look that the stranger gives to mark’s unsavory comments about you. the idiot obviously misses the look too, because he’s smiling down at you all smug and patronizing when you give him your attention.

“this is agent giles from the fbi. the federal bureau of investigation,” he begins, cocking his head in a way that makes him look like he’s got a knot in his neck, rather than intelligent and important as you figure he intends. you just nod as the agent flashes his badge, resisting the urge to examine the tall man like one of your exhibit pieces. “well, he’s looking for a certain type of knife–” mark says slowly, like you don’t understand what he’s implying. you, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about him as you look the agent up and down, trying to look casual. you’re usually far more into ancient weaponry than men, but he is straight up gorgeous, you conclude.

“–so, you should help him look for it. it’s very important, so don’t make us look like fools by saying something weird.” you grimace internally, but don’t show much of a reaction because all you can really think about is how much of an idiot he is. and how agent giles is too pretty to be an employee of the federal government. that part is far more important than mark’s rudeness, as you’re fully aware that he has nothing of value to offer, while you absolutely do.

“i’m sure y/n will be very helpful,” says agent giles firmly, and for a moment it surprises you that he knows your name before you realize mark must have given it earlier, “thanks for the sandwich recommendation mr.” he clears his throat because he’s clearly forgotten mark’s last name, “linser.” you stifle a laugh at both the insult of this agent remembering your name, but not mark’s, and the image of mark recommending an fbi agent his favorite sandwich from the museum café.

“lessinger,” he corrects with a stupid, haughty smile that suggests he has no idea that the agent thinks he’s a dumbass and couldn’t care less about him. he doesn’t even get the memo that he’s supposed to leave until agent giles clears his throat again and gives him a pointed look. “well, if y/n can’t get you what you need, i’m sure i can figure it out, so just let me know if you need anything else,” he lands a final insult before scurrying away to his own desk.

“it’s very bad,” you say with a matter of fact tone and shake of your head, once he’s finally out of ear shot.

the agent raises his eyebrows in question, like he’s not one hundred percent sure what you’re referring to. “him?” he scoffs, “yeah, he’s a total asshole.” agent gile’s tone is much lighter and pleasant when he’s talking just to you, though he certainly means what he’s just said.

“oh, well, no. i mean, yes, he is a complete asshole, but i meant to say that– um, well, the sandwich. it’s very bad,” you repeat the sentiment in earnest after realizing you started speaking almost completely out of context. now you feel the need to explain, “he always gets the same sandwich, and it’s not a good one. if you’re hungry you should get the superfood salad. very healthy, and really good– or, i mean, if you wanted a sandwich, the blt is quite good, especially if you add avocado,” you trail off and realize you’re completely off topic, “but, uh– that’s not what you’re here for, obviously. i’m sorry, i don’t mean to waste your time, agent. uh, how can i help you?”

“no, no, that’s okay,” he says, his pretty hazel eyes full of sincerity, “i am in fact hungry, but i’d never take his recommendation, so i’m glad to have yours. i love salad,” he smiles.

“oh, thanks,” you relax, before wondering if that’s a normal response. but, instead of trying to correct yourself like you normally might, you stay silent to avoid going off topic again and preventing him from getting to the point.

“i’m looking for a certain type of dagger,” he begins, and you realize it’s taking quite a bit of effort to keep looking up at him from your seated position. he’s so tall. “i saw your museum has a weapons collection and was wondering–,” without thinking, you stand to alleviate the pressure on your neck. he pauses in his speech, but is quick to realize you’re simply just standing and that he’s free to keep talking, “–if you’d be able to help me find out if you have any. i hear you’re the weapons expert?”

“yep, that’s me!” you say, unable to completely tamp down your excitement about the topic. only then do you realize that your timing to stand up was slightly odd, but you forge on for the sake of daggers. your favorite subset of weapons. “um, what sort of dagger are you looking for?”

“a scottish dirk?” he answers like he’s asking a question, as if he’s not sure how odd it is to ask that. it is sort of odd, only because you can’t understand exactly what the fbi’s interest is in scottish daggers, but you couldn’t care less.

your eyes light up and you grin, “we have plenty. actually, it’s quite a collection for a small museum like ours. uhh, let me show you! we have one on display, but personally, i think the ones in storage are the ones you’ll want to see,” you brush past him and head out into the hallway towards storage.

he follows behind as you continue talking, “i mean, of course the one on display is incredible, it’s just that the best one doesn’t quite fit into the right time frame for this particular exhibit,” you explain, though you think a moment after that he surely couldn’t care less about those details. then, your curiosity gets the best of you, “so, am i allowed to ask why the fbi is looking for scottish dirks? i just didn’t think they’d be something the u.s. government would be concerned about for any reason. oh, well– not that it can’t be! you can certainly investigate anything you want, obviously,” you stop yourself there before you can say anything else borderline embarrassing.

“well, it may be connected to some odd deaths we’re investigating here. we’re just following every possibility.” his answer is completely cryptic and absolutely no help in calming your curiosities. you can’t think of any possible way that sixteenth century scottish daggers could be connected to unexplained deaths.

“you mean the… body in the lake?” you question aloud when the news article you read last week pops into your mind. the word “body” is used lightly; they only found the woman’s liver floating on the surface. you swipe your key card to open the door to storage and lead him inside, then you register that he said “deaths,” plural. “there was more than one?”

“yeah, over the course of the past … few years. the one from last week is just the most recent, second to the one we found this morning.” you’re not sure why he hesitates over the word “few,” but you figure he’s got all sorts of reasons to act secretive.

“o-oh,” you stammer out, as everything suddenly turns so morbid, “i didn’t know that,” you reply as you stop without thinking at the right storage container. from the desk behind you, you grab a pair of gloves and ask him to put them on as well before you carefully extract the three long knives from their shelf. “so, what? you think someone’s using a scottish dirk to cut people up and throw their livers in the lake? odd considering the dirk is a thrusting blade. wouldn’t be very effective for such a task. well, uh, not that i’d really know. well, i do because i– but not like that! obviously, i’ve never used a scottish dirk to– nevermind.” you let out a little breath that’s half laugh half sigh and force yourself to focus on unwrapping the blades in front of you, each around at least a foot long.

you completely miss the endeared look that the agent gives you. sam only came in to see if the museum had the dagger and figure out how to steal it after hours to complete this case, but you’ve completely occupied his attention. he wants to hear you talk, loves the way you got excited when he asked about the dirk, thinks it’s sweet the way words tumble out of your mouth and your eyebrows change when you realize it was an awkward way to say things. and as a plus, your knowledge of the blade and its history could very likely be helpful.

“we’re not sure exactly how the dirk fits in, but that’s helpful to know,” he says kindly, peering down at the daggers. they’re beautiful and well-crafted, one with a particularly intricately carved handle. “that douche back there,” he begins, and you laugh a little at his unprofessional language, “he said you were interested in “fairy tales” related to weapons. i assume he meant folklore and mythologies? is there anything you can tell me about the folklore behind these?”

you almost cringe, thinking agent giles must find you silly until he proves just the opposite.

“yes, definitely! mark—the douchebag—loves to make fun of me for it, but it’s an important part of the job,” you explain, “it’s just, you might have to interrupt me, i get kind of excited about this kind of thing and, uh, i might start rambling,” you warn with a sheepish smile.

“any information helps,” he reassures. with that, you can’t help yourself, silently apologizing for the pure shitload of nerdy information he’s about to have dumped on him.

“well, if you insist. don’t say i didn’t warn you, but i’ll do my best to stick to the highlights,” you glance at him fleetingly and send him a smile you hope isn’t too awkward. you can’t help but notice he sends back a similar expression. so worried about your own behavior, you hadn’t realized that he’s also sort of awkward. it’s sweet and it makes you feel a bit more relaxed as you turn your attention back to the topic at hand.

“the dirk, biodag in scottish gaelic, is a particularly important part of traditional scottish highlander culture. it was very common for warrior cultures to swear their most important oaths on their swords, but for the highlanders, it was done with their dirk. these oaths were binding with what was called the force of a gaes, which involved severe supernatural consequences were the oath to be broken. the iron of the dirk was considered to be holy, which stems from the folk superstitions that iron can protect against mythological creatures. these two,” you point to the simpler of the three knives, “are 17th century dirks, crafted with soligen steel, as there was a sort of magic ascribed to the forging of germanic steel that became popular in later centuries.

“but, this one is a very early version of the dirk from the early 16th century, and made frompure iron,” you smile as you move on to talk about the third dirk, the one sam had noticed to be particularly ornate, “and therefore more aligned with traditional scottish folklore, as iron is considered to be stronger than any sort of alloy, like steel, against supernatural forces. this one’s definitely my favorite, just don’t tell the others,” you finish off with satisfaction, and even an affection that sam secretly finds adorable.

“it is a beautiful blade,” he agrees, in a way that makes you think he genuinely appreciates its value. “now, is there any sort of supernatural creature that the dirk specifically is used to kill?” sam knows the answer he’s looking for, but he’s always eager to confirm any sort of lore that he’s not intimately familiar with, so he asks despite the weirdness of it all.

this question is certainly very odd to you, and you can’t understand why he’d need to know, but you answer anyway. “well, it can depend on who you ask or what records you look at. in many cases, any old thing made of iron, or silver, depending, would do, especially because most folklore dates back to before the development of the highland dirk. but, there are definitely accounts of supernatural creatures being killed or warded off using a dirk, especially one used for a blood oath that was never broken. some believe the strength of an oath fulfilled made the weapon stronger and able to kill creatures otherwise thought unkillable.”

he takes in all of this information with such a serious and straight face that you really begin to question how this could all be about unsolved murders. he seems to think the folklore is going to help him solve real life mysteries, or maybe he’s just secretly interested in this sort of thing and using the opportunity to learn about it.

“and do you know anything in particular about a creature called the each-uisge?”

“each-uisge?” you repeat, unable to stop yourself from laughing a little in surprise. now you’re perfectly sure this federal government investigator is just a secret nerd with an interest in niche folklore. even his pronunciation is decent, though he neglected the back-of-the-throat sound of the “ch.”

“well– i mean, yes, there are accounts of each-uisge being warded away by both silver bullets and an iron dirk,” you indulge, “i know less about the each-uisge themselves than dirks, but i’ve never read any account of one being killed. though, i do suppose an oath-strengthened dirk might be just the thing to do it.”

he nods intently. “listen, i’m sure this is a long shot,” agent giles begins, gesturing haphazardly with his gloved hands, and you wonder what sort of strange thing he could ask this time, “but is there a way of knowing if this one,” he points to the pure iron dirk, “might have been used to fullfill an oath?”

at that you can’t help but snort out a laugh. “what, are you trying to hunt down a each-uisge?” you tease. “you know that they’re only located in scotland, right? … i mean, if they were real, obviously.” by the end, your tone is no longer playful as your mind returns to the news of missing, presumed dead people, with nothing left but their livers found in the nearby lake. then you think about the history of the town, once heavy with scottish imigrants when it was founded in the early eighteenth century. and finally, all in just a second or two, you fully recall the story of the each-uisge, a vicious, shape-shifting horse that drowns its victims at the bottom of the nearest lake and eats their whole body except the liver, which floats to the surface. a chill runs up your spine before you tamp down the ridiculous suspicions that fill your mind.

“right, obviously,” agent giles laughs too, but it’s sort of stiff, like he wasn’t really joking when he asked. you’re certainly not laughing anymore. “as for the dirk?”

you raise your eyebrows, “hm?” is all you can manage as your mind goes sort of blank. there’s absolutely no way that what you’re thinking about could actually be true, so you brush it off and try to listen to the agent—if that’s really who he is.

“can you tell?” he asks again.

“uh– tell what? oh– oh! if it was used to swear an oath?” you prompt. he nods. “well, i mean, ha. not really, not for sure. we have tested, and there are traces of blood on the blade,” you gesture towards it vaguely, “but, um, that could be from anywhere, not just an oath, you know? lots of fighting…and stuff, uh, those days,” your voice trails off as you laugh and nod a little awkwardly, starting to feel more and more confused about this agent giles, no matter how pretty his soft-looking brown hair is. you tell yourself he’s just curious, but he just looks oh so serious, despite the fact that he’s trying to seem casual and normal about this unconventional conversation.

“hm,” is the only little sound he makes in response, like he’s almost disappointed and considering something weighty you don’t know about because of your unsure answer.

and because you hate to see that little frown on his face, you keep talking, “but, it’s more than likely that this blade was owned by a high ranking clansman, possibly even the chief, as indicated by the ornate nature of the handle and overall high quality. oaths were, in retrospect, decently common to make, even more so for high ranking clansmen.

“which means it is very likely that at least one, maybe many oaths have been sworn using this blade. of course, there’s no telling whether each oath was fulfilled, but considering the cultural importance of loyalty and honor and the roles of oaths in such, it wouldn’t be far fetched to consider this dirk as the kind strong enough to kill a each-uisge. if, you know, you wanted to know a random, cool, and totally niche fun fact about one of my favorite weapons in this museum’s storage room,” in the last sentence, you speak in a clunky, awkward sort of way as you run out of interesting tidbits to info-dump and your mind instead wanders back to the undeniably peculiar circumstances surrounding this conversation. the laugh you let out at the end is quiet, and far more nervous than humored.

the smile he gives you then is sympathetic, like he knows this is all weird and maybe a little alarming if you’re willing to question your non-belief in the supernatural. you’re no longer sure at all that he’s an fbi agent, but strangely enough, you don’t find yourself feeling distrustful of him. your gut tells you that he’s good, and you decide to trust it.

“all of this was a big help,” he says, the sincerity in his voice almost tangible, “thank you.” that makes you feel good, because it seems to you like he’s just trying to help people. with what, you’re not sure, and then you sort of wish that he’d made some sort of joke about how this last part of the conversation wasn’t actually helpful, just interesting. interesting and completely irrelevant to the livers on the lake.

you swallow hard, “of course. glad i could be of help to you, agent.”

“sam,” he corrects. “just sam is alright.”

“oh. right. just sam,” you nod and wonder if the feeling in your chest could be your heart fluttering. your eyes flicker from his face to his broad shoulders, to his pretty, big hands and the way his right middle finger taps against the side of his thigh. then, worried you’re staring, your gaze flits down to your own hands, resting on the table, then to the daggers you know so well. yet, you look at them different this time. you’ve certainly wondered about the oaths that may have been sworn by their blades and their connections to traditional superstitions. but now you look at them and wonder if it’s real. if one of these blades had been used to ward off a real-life myth in the past, or been magically strengthened by blood and kept promises. sam—you think sam fits him so much better than agent giles—has shifted your perspective of the things you’ve been studying and learning about and loving for years and years of your life.

it’s true that you’ve always been one to daydream, to wonder; that’s where your fascination with folklore and fairy tales comes from. always, you’ve looked for rumored mythological weapons in the real world and marveled at the less historic possibilities of the things you study. and you think that if it were anyone else, or if he talked to or looked at you in a different way, you wouldn’t be questioning your reality like this, but you are. maybe you’re predisposed to believing, or just too curious for your own good, but you know at that moment that you won’t be able to let this go.

sam clears his throat to break the awkward silence, and he thinks he can see the gears in your head turning, the way they have been since he asked about the each-uisge. he hopes desperatly you won’t ask him if he thinks this is all real, all because he doesn’t think he could lie to you anymore. there’s something about your authenticity, your intelligence and innate curiosity, and the goodness that you so clearly carry with you that simultaneously makes him want to tell you everything and protect you from the truth. the latter option is always his go-to, rightfully so, but he can’t explain to himself the way that he purely just wants to share with you, bring you closer to him through a shared understanding of the world. sam thinks he must be crazy, because he just met you and thinks it would be entirely possible to fall right in love with you if he got the chance to get to know you.

then he realizes that he’s the one staring. “right, well… i should get going. you know. i’ve got another lead i need to follow up on,” he forces the words out like he doesn’t want to go, and it’s true. he doesn’t, but if he spends more time with you, he’ll have to keep lying, and he doesn’t want to do that. more importantly, he doesn’t want to expose you to anything more that could put you in danger.

“right. right, of course,” you nod, and you’re practically breaking his heart because you fail to hide the disappointment on your face for a split second. he hadn’t realized he was looking at you that carefully to catch the look, but he doesn’t regret it. he’s discovered that he likes looking at you enough to not care much about that sort of thing. “would you like me to show you out, or do you remember the way?”

“i’m alright,” sam answers on instinct before his heart breaks doubly because your eyes look sad again for a moment, “but let me walk you back to your office. or, no, let me buy you that superfood salad for taking up your time,” he amends quickly.

“i already ate lunch, but– shit,” you interrupt yourself, cursing when you realize he was flirting. then you get flustered, “no, i mean– uh, well– okay! er, no, that’s okay, i mean,” because there’s no taking back the fact that you already said you ate lunch already. you take a breath to steady yourself, “but you can definitely walk me back to my office, let me just put these away, it’ll be quick–,” your hands rush to wrap up the daggers before you remember their fragility, “oh– sorry! thank you for the offer, though! that would’ve been completely unnecessary, i’m just glad i could help. not that i wouldn’t– uh,” you gulp anxiously, “not that i wouldn’t eat lunch with you, of course– well, if that’s what you were implying which maybe it wasn’t, which, in that case–”

sam who cuts you off, “it’s alright,” he reassures before you can keep rambling, “that is what i’m implying, but…” he quiets for a split second, only because he’s a littly shy, “it’s okay. maybe, yknow, when the case is over, we can go for lunch, if that’s alright with you?”

you inhale sharply, nodding silently before remembering you should answer aloud too. when you do, your voice is a little breathless, “yeah, yeah, that sounds good.” then, you’re fighting back a grin.

“great,” he doesn’t hide his own smile as he dips his hand into a jacket pocket and hands you his card. “call me tomorrow, we can set up a time.” you accept the card with a shy smile, and one beat, two beats of silence pass before the both of you realize you’re staring at the other.

in sync, you snap out of it, gazes jerking elsewhere and hands flying anywhere to get busy. you turn to the blades on the table and he focuses on fixing up the black jacket of his suit. you try to ignore him as you put the artifacts away, expecting for him to have said goodbye and left by the time you turn back to him. when you look at him in confusion, the corner of his mouth quirks up when he realizes you’ve forgotten that you said he could walk you back to your office.

he vaguely motions towards the door, “shall we? i’ll walk you to your office, then i’m good to find my way out.”

“oh! right, of course!” you nod, “yeah.” with your lips pursed in an awkward smile, you turn to the door and walk towards the exit without looking to see if he follows. but you don’t have to, because a half-second later, he’s right by your side, which you can attribute his long strides to. you like the way he lingers close to you, closer than he did when you first walked in together, even if it makes you feel flustered so that your hands mess with the hem of your shirt.

you stop at the office door, turning to him and expecting your goodbye to happen surrounded by the empty, white walls of the hallway.

but, he points to the door with his chin. “i’ll walk you in,” he explains, “show that asshole, mark, that you’re friendly with an fbi agent.”

“oh,” you sigh out through a smile, “you don’t have to do that, yknow. i know he’s an idiot.”

he laughs at that. “yeah, he absolutely is,” he agrees readily, “but, i still wanna. i think of it as part of my job to scare off assholes.” especially from pretty people like you, he wants to say. he’s just too shy for that, thinks it would be too soon to say it.

“well then, be my guest,” you smile as you open the door and let him follow close behind you.

“thank you for all of your help,” sam says, repeating what he said before, louder than he has to so that mark, a few desks away from yours, can hear it all, “you really helped move our investigation along. i think we’ll be able to wrap it up soon, thanks to you.” you’re sure that he’s over-exaggerating, but you certainly aren’t going to stop him from proving a point to mark.

“it was the least i could do,” you play along, trying to hide your grin from your coworkers, because you can feel all their eyes on you. when you sit, sam looks down at you with nothing short of affection, just for a moment before your eyes settle back on his pretty face.

“have a nice rest of your day,” he smiles before turning away. then he reaches the door, not too far away, he turns back around and speaks for everyone to hear, “don’t forget to call me, yeah?” before disappearing and leaving you a flustered, grinning mess. you can’t help but steal a look at mark and feel satisfaction run through your veins at his utterly shocked expression.

he looks to have gone through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds, and it’s frankly hilarious. he can’t seem to possibly consider the fact that you absolutely just pulled a (not?) fbi agent, not to mention one who’s that tall and just plain attractive. you can’t wait to catch whatever comical expression he wears when he sees you greeted by sam in the museum foyer during your lunch break for a date (because surely he’ll be sitting in the café watching people walk in and out as he’s chewing on his nasty sandwich).

part two : now you know

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sumeruin · 10 months ago

Text

tag, you’re it!!

pairing: yandere! dottore x afab test subject! reader

tw: written by a minor!!!, dddne, heavy noncon, wound fucking, gore, biting, mentions of vomiting but it doesn’t actually happen, biting, lots of blood, blood drinking, kidnapping, drugging, use of weapons, stalking, pet names, dehumanization, i think that’s it, but if i missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: i honestly can’t defend myself on this one um. enjoy <3

minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

you don’t think your heart has ever beat so fast. you can feel it racing beneath your skin as you run barefoot through the forest, blood rushing through your veins as you hold a hand over your mouth to muffle your desperate, horrified sobs. behind you, you can hear the man that’s been chasing you for the better part of an hour. his heavy footsteps, his terrifying laugh, his sickeningly mocking remarks as he spots the footprints you leave in the mud, unable to cover them up with him right behind you. the wind cools the tears on your face, and it feels like the archons are mocking you. you internally curse them for not granting you a vision, a way to get out of this horrible situation.

your legs burn, and your pace involuntarily gets slower as you sob helplessly, his voice filling your ears, condescending and horrible. “what’s the matter, little rabbit? i can hear you crying.” your legs give out, and you collapse on the muddy floor, your sobs increasing in their urgency as his footsteps get closer and closer. you squeeze your eyes shut, curling your body against the tree you fell against as he finally reaches you. you haven’t gotten a good look at him yet, and you hope you never do. you don’t want to put a face to the voice that’s been tormenting you all night.

you flinch when he reaches a hand out and strokes your cheek, shockingly gentle compared to what you had expected, and he lets out a condescending chuckle and yanks your jaw up to meet his eyes, growling out his words as he speaks. it seems he’s dropped the faux kindness from earlier. “look at me. look at me.” when you obediently open your eyes, sniffling and letting out pained sobs every few seconds, he grins, baring his unnaturally sharp teeth from below his mask and nodding as he appraises you. you feel like a piece of meat, and you’re sure that’s his intent. to dehumanize you, make you feel less than.

he nods to himself, then speaks again. “good. you’ll make a fine specimen, i’m sure.”

you stare up at him in fear, doe eyes widened as you try to flinch away from his iron grip. he doesn’t let you, you didn’t expect him to, though your struggling does seem to please him. you find yourself only more terrified at that fact. your voice is quiet, weak, and he only grins more at the sound. “what… what do you want from me?”

he doesn’t respond, only gives you another horribly wrong looking smile before, almost inhumanly fast, pulling out a syringe and sticking it in your neck. the last thing you remember before everything goes black is how painless it was. like he’s had practice.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you wake up, the first thing you notice is the apparent lack of foliage around you, instead replaced with sinister looking metal structures and cages that are stained with something that looks horrifyingly like blood. the second thing you notice is how securely restrained you are. there’s tight, thick straps around your wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, neck, and waist, all of which have locks on them, presumably so you can’t escape.

your mind wanders back to the man in the forest, and what he injected you with. how quickly it worked and left a gap in your memory. as you think more about it, you consequently get more scared. you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by a loud, horrible beeping noise, which you come to realize is the heart rate monitor you’ve been hooked up to. you try to take deep breaths to lower it before the man comes in and realizes you’re awake, but you fail. of course you fail.

his footsteps fill the room, and the beeping gets faster as your heart rate increases more with the terror he inspires in you. he smiles at you again, and his voice rings out, terrible and anxiety inducing. “i see you’re awake. tell me, what’s gotten you so worked up, hm? is my laboratory scary? do you not enjoy your accommodations?”

he leans in closer to you, and you feel tears starts to pool in your eyes as your body fills with dread. the man seems amused by this, cooing softly at you and pinching your cheek in a way that’s somehow more dehumanizing than anything else he’s done so far. “please… please let me go,” you’re painfully aware of how pathetic you sound as you speak, but you hope he’ll take pity on you instead. realize you aren’t meant for whatever he has planned and release you, though you know deep down that you aren’t that lucky.

he laughs, then shakes his head no before speaking again. he talks too much, you think. “i’m afraid i can’t do that, little rabbit. though, i suppose some introductions are in order. i am il dottore, the second of the featuring harbingers, and your new master. i’ve had my eye on you for some time, dear. you… intrigue me. i have never seen someone quite as pretty as you are. so, you see, i just had to have you. you understand, i’m sure,” his voice gets on your nerves, though you know it’s best to be compliant when dealing with lunatics, so you simply nod your head as best you can with your restraints as he continues.

“good. you must be wondering what i plan to do with you, correct?” you nod again. “i have many ideas, i can’t say i’ve ever felt this way before, especially about someone as insignificant as you, so there’s quite a few things i’d like to try. of course, i will bathe you, then examine you more thoroughly than i managed in the forest. after i’ve collected your baseline vital statistics, and you have been thoroughly examined and cleaned, i will take you. for my research, of course. i believe it would be beneficial to encourage in coitus with you, as it might help me to better understand the origin of these feelings.”

you’re sure he can see the alarm on your face at how casually he mentions violating you in such a personal way, for he gives you a pat on the head that you think is meant to be comforting. it has the opposite effect, it only makes you more concerned. you shake your head no and give him a desperate, pleading look, your eyes filling with tears at the thought. “please, no! anything but that, i swear i won’t ever try to leave, just… please, don’t!”

his eyes light up, and you finally realize he’s removed his mask. you had been too caught up in your panicked fear to really pay attention to him, but as you examine him, his heavily scarred face, his blood red eyes, his aquiline nose. he’s… undeniably attractive, your brain supplies. you immediately try to push those thoughts away, he just said he was planning on raping you, for archon’s sake, you cannot find him attractive. he clearly picks up on your inner struggle, judging from the amused smile he wears and the way he leans in closer to you, softly caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“i suppose if you’re that against me taking you vaginally, i could find another way to have you. though i can’t promise it will be as pleasant. it is quite hard to give the recipient pleasure in other orifices,” his cologne fills your nostrils as he leans in so close to you, your lips just barely touching. he smells like roses and leather, with just a hint of blood and bleach along with other chemical smells you can’t quite place. you hate yourself for thinking it, but it’s not an entirely unpleasant scent. in fact, you think you’d quite enjoy it on anyone else.

he hums, nosing against your throat and leaving a bite where your neck meets your shoulder. it’s painful, and you have to bite your tongue to resist crying out as the tears that had been building finally start to fall. you can’t hold back the choked sob that escapes when you feel the copious amount of blood that falls from the wound, sure to leave a scar. an inescapable, undeniable, permanent reminder of what he’s done to you and what he plans to do to you.

he ignores your distress, only whispering half hearted coos as he licks up all the blood from your fresh bite mark and groans softly at the taste. the realization that he’s getting pleasure from this makes bile start to rise up your throat. “shh, shh… you taste divine. perhaps that’s why i’m so enchanted with you. you’ve put a spell on me.”

dottore softly laps up the blood that pours from your wound, and you hate yourself a little more for thinking the feeling is somewhat pleasant. his tongue is soothing on your wound, his saliva is unnaturally cold, and surprisingly doesn’t make the cuts sting. you don’t know if it’s the blood loss or the paralyzing fear you’re feeling, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

he pulls his mouth away from your wound and wipes the last few beads of blood away from it with his thumb. he examines the way the ruby red liquid reflects the light and contrasts the back leather of his glove as it sits on his finger, and then he brings his thumb to your lips, his tone leaving no room for argument as he commands you. “open.”

you reluctantly obey, looking at him tiredly as the blood loss starts to hit you more and more, your vision slowly starting to become fuzzy at the edges, painting everything in a sort of giddy haze as the pain mixes with the pleasant feelings his sweet words and scent invoke in you. he gives you a smile, patting your head once again as he slides his thumb, still carrying your blood, into your open mouth. “good… good pet,” his hand strokes your forehead comfortingly, and the lights suddenly seem all too bright, your eyebrows furrowing weakly as you try to turn your head away from them.

“shh… just sleep, little rabbit. i’ll take good care of you. when you wake, i’ll be ready for the last part of my plans.”

you don’t have time to really think about what he means by that before the fuzzy edges of your vision fade completely to black, your consciousness quickly ebbing away.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

you’re passing out far too often for your liking, you decide as you come to. this time, you’ve been restrained on a soft bed in what looks like the private chambers of some very wealthy individual. it takes a moment for everything to come back to you, but the dull, throbbing pain in your shoulder quickly helps you remember.

you examine your surroundings once more, taking note of the black and dark blue color scheme of the room, along with the silver accents and luxurious feel of, what you assume is, dottore’s sheets. as you try to move to assess how secure your bindings are this time, you come to a horrifying realization. you aren’t wearing your knee length, cotton chemise anymore, and there isn’t a trace of any mud on your skin. someone has bathed and changed your clothes, into a much more revealing, practically see through babydoll dress.

you realize something even more horrific as you examine your body more closely. someone has also shaved you completely bare.

your attention is snapped to the door as dottore enters, holding a briefcase that gives you a horrible feeling. “good, you’re awake. i was almost worried i had injured you fatally.” he sets the briefcase down on the bed, not giving you a moment to speak, and pulls out a terrifyingly sharp dagger, turning to you with a small smile.

“now, since you seemed so distraught over me having vaginal intercourse with you, i’ve decided on an alternative,” he doesn’t elaborate further, only approaching you and inspecting your body as he marks out various places, mostly on your upper thigh or abdomen. you feel horribly exposed, wearing nothing but a sheer, short babydoll, but there’s nothing you can do about it. you have no idea what he plans to do, but you’re sure it will be torturous.

he finally settles on a spot, a fatty area just above your belly button on the left side, and he walks over to that side of the bed with the blade. he marks out a relatively large circle with a pen, and you realize what he means to do.

your struggles are reignited, and you start to sob as he places the pen back in his breast pocket and gently shushes you. “calm down. it will only be worse for you if you struggle, dear.”

your sobs grow louder as he makes the first incision, you start thrashing around in your bindings and trying desperately to get away from his blade. you give him a pleading look as he continues to carve a horrifyingly deep hole into your skin, and your voice is weak, breaking with every word from the excruciating pain of getting carved into without any sort of numbing solution. “p-please, can- can’t, ‘s- ‘s hurting me, st-stop-!”

he completely ignores you, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from his bag and spraying it on the large wound. your pain is only increased, and you realize why you’re retrained so tightly. he finally looks back at your tear covered face, and gives you a smile as he pets your hair. “there, the hard part is over. now it’s time to continue the experiment.”

you sob, shaking your head no as you cry out from the pain, watching in horror as he undoes his pants just enough to pull his cock out. he positions it at the hole he’s created for himself, and, without any sort of warning, thrusts himself deep inside. you cry out, choking on your sobs and gagging from the all encompassing pain as bile starts to rise up in your throat once again.

he gives a deep moan as he starts to move, completely uncaring of your protests and the agony you’re in as he chases his own pleasure inside of you. his fingers curl around the other side of your torso, and he pulls you into each of his thrusts, only increasing your pain. “you truly are fantastic…”

you think you’re going to be sick.

how dare he enjoy this? how dare he violate you in such a way and have the gall to moan about it? if you had the strength, you think you might kill him.

you dissociate for most of the experience, something your eternally grateful for. you don’t want to remember any of it. the feeling of his thrusts into your limp body starting to falter and his cock twitching inside your, now more of a gash, really, remind you of the very real threat that he’ll cum inside of your large wound.

before you get a chance to plead with him not to, though, you feel the burning, hot liquid fill the space nothing should ever touch. it hurts, almost more than the actual fucking did, and you think you pass out from the feeling.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you come to for the third time, you’ve been bandaged and stitched up and dottore holds you in his arms, tucked snugly against his side while he writes notes, presumably about the torture he’s just put you through. he smiles down at you, petting your hair once again before he stands up, leaving you tied to the bed. “i wished to make sure you would wake up. now i must get back to my work.” he pauses in the doorway as he leaves. “you were wonderful, and my hypothesis was incorrect. having intercourse with you did not cure me. in fact, it only made me more taken with you. …i have decided to keep you, in light of this revelation.”

with that, he swiftly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. you cry softly to yourself, and then feel a sudden weight on your lap. as you look down, you feel bitterness fill you at the sight.

there, sitting perfectly on your lap, taunting you, is a shiny, anemo vision.

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angelic-jeonghan1004 · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! I really wanna request something for andteam!

andteam during a fight?

If so I would appreciate you accepting my request!

Hiiii anon 💞 ofc you can!! I hope you enjoy 🥰 I’m going to write this in sections but struggle with motivation so pls come into my inbox to let me know if you’d want maknae line! sorry I’m a lil rusty it’s been a while since I wrote anything💔

I view him as one of the least level headed, so in an argument I think he’d be a bit hurtful in what he says

even tho he’ll want to keep his cool he won’t be able to stop himself from making passive aggressive or backhanded comments

If he said something super mean I don’t think he’d be ready to double down out of stubbornness

unless you actively started crying or showing signs of going to leave

then he’d immediately regret everything

Cue word jumble of apologies and he’ll want to reach out to you and hold ur hand if you allow him but will understand if you don’t.

Would most likely exit the room to cool down so he doesn’t say anything else he regrets

Would come back in about an hour to try and figure the problem out with a better mindset and apologize again right off the bat

Would hold you very tight that night

Fuma:

Unlike K he is VERY level headed and would be very articulate with his wording

Hates when you are the cause of his stress and especially hates being the cause of yours as he wants to always be your protector and who you go to instead of be what you have to go to others about

Arguments with him are not regular and when they do happen he tries very hard to under your point of view and apologizes if it’s from something he did that made you upset

If you made him upset he’d be quick to communicate what didn’t sit right with him

He’d be the least likely to say rude comments to you since he doesn’t like putting you down in anyway

Euijoo:

He is a sweet guy with a tender heart he doesn’t like arguing

But when you guys do argue he’s very gentle and particular about his words but May sigh and sometimes his tone may sound condescending

If your argument gets heated he will be quick to put the argument on pause and have you guys chill in separate areas to think since the last thing he’s letting you guys do is say stuff just to be petty or hurtful to the other person

Let’s say you go into ur shared bedroom and he stays in the kitchen he will grab a glass of water and then go up to your room and ask to start the conversation up again

He’d give you the water and take a few deep breaths first before continuing and turning it from a fight to a conversation

Nicholas:

He is hot headed

He will not be thinking about your emotions exactly if you step on his toes he may genuinely get mean

He will only back down when you cry or if ur voice starts to break like K

Then he will probably either leave the house or go into a dif room to reevaluate what just happened

When he comes back he’ll apologize and itd be genuine but sound a little awkward

Will ask if you’ll let him talk to you about the situation again and he hopes you will do you guys can get it over with and since he’s had enough time to think of genuine responses and not condescending ones but understand if ur not wanting to

will let you sleep on the matter but will ask if you can sleep in the same bed

He just needs to hold you to know you’re not leaving

#&team scenarios #&team angst #&team drabbles #&team reactions #&team x reader #andteam scenarios #andteam reactions #andteam imagines #andteam x reader

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avatarmerida · 4 months ago

Text

A Blight By Any Other Name

I posted a preview for this awhile ago but I've been busy and whatver so here it is! It's a slight AU I guess but I'm mostly here for vibes not for explanations. If you see any errors no you didn't!

----

“Willow please!”

“Amity, I don’t know, it’s risky isn’t it?”

“There’s no way anyone would ever find out!”

“If that’s true then why don’t you just skip it or send an illusion?”

“I just need it to go well enough so my mom will stop bugging me and I’ll never have to do it again,” said Amity. “I’m just no good at these kinds of things and I’m worried I’ll mess it up so much that she’ll make me try again or send me to courtesy lessons with the twins.”

It was the envy of every parent who hoped to gloat about their child. Once a week for a month, the head of the Emperor’s coven would see a hopeful recruit and mentor them. It was a chance to impress them as well as learn from them. There were months that went by with no worthy adversary appearing as you needed to be the best, the boldest and the brightest.

Being rich didn’t hurt your chances either.

“Why is your mom sending you anyway? Why can’t she send one of the twins?”

“She knows they won’t take it seriously,” Amity groaned. “She wants to make a good impression and she thinks it’ll help my chances of getting into the Emperor’s Coven. But all my antidotes were formed around impressing Miss Lillith, I don’t have time to research the charm the golden guard prefers.”

“And I do?”

“You’re just naturally likeable!” Amity declared. “It will give me time to prepare. Just pretend to be me and make me seem calm and friendly.”

“And what happens if he doesn’t like me or asks me something only you could ever answer?”

“The first visit is always a tour of the grounds, which I’ve studied enough to know anyway,” said Amity. “Just nod and smile and it will be fine! I just… I can’t…”

Willow saw through her instantly. “You have plans with Luz tonight, don’t you?”

“What? No, n-not like ‘official’ plans or anything like that but she mentioned she was doing something and it seemed intentional and so I thought maybe we would-.”

“It’s okay Amy, I get it,” said Willow with a smile. She was adjusting to having Amity back in her life and whatever was happening between her newest and oldest friend might not have been her favorite thing at first but it was growing on her. And who was she to stand between two dorks with crushes? “I’ll go for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Perfect! I’ll grab the concealment stone for you!” Said Amity as she wrapped her friend in a hug. “Oh, thank you Willow! I owe you big time!”

“Yeah I know,” said Willow with a sigh as she returned the hug. “I know.”

———

The plan was simple: Willow would take a concealment stone and go to the meeting as Amity and secure a good first impression. According to Amity’s research, she probably wouldn’t even need to talk (Willow didn’t know if that meant ‘have the opportunity to’ or ‘be allowed to’ but was too nervous to ask) and by the time they had walked the grounds, the appointment would be over. She had endured worse.

The Golden Guard greeted her at the gate, if you could call it that. He didn’t technically say hello or ask how or who she was or offer any information about himself. He just gave her a nod and told her to follow him.He spoke only when necessary, and when he did his tone was harsh and condescending. Willow couldn’t help but feel it felt forced. He gave instructions as though it came as naturally as breathing, sounding as though he was both tired and proud of showing her around. She walked three steps behind him, just as he told her to, and nodded and showed faint signs of understanding, just as Amity had told her. It was plain and awkward and everything Amity had said it would be.

The first visit was meant to be nothing more than a mostly silent and distant tour of the grounds,but once they got to the garden, Willow couldn’t help herself.

“Woah! Is that a Phantom orchid?!” She exclaimed, trailing back to get a closer look.

“Hmm? Oh yeah it is,” he said, stopping to allow her to observe. Usually when someone interrupted him, it was a coven head telling him to shut up or mocking him or dismissing the fact he was speaking at all. But this girl wasn’t ignoring him, she was including him in her excitement, so he allowed himself to allow it.

“And it’s blooming already?” she continued, getting as close as she could. “How did that happen? The full moon isn’t for a few more days!”

“Oh, well Terra figured out that if you add moon dust to the water it will naturally convert the sunlight into the needed chemical to bloom.”

“The water, of course!” Willow said, laughing as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why didn’t I think of that? It helps the pigment coloration too! Ah! It’s so pretty! Look at the lateral sepal and the dorsal sepal! They’re much bigger than average, it must be cross pollinated to have a wide enough stem to support that.”

He watched as she continued to chatter about the details of the flower, seeing things within things and connecting it to flowers in her own garden. She was vibrant and excited and loud, uncaring if she got dirt stains on her uniform as she got closer to the plant. It was extremely unprofessional.

“You know a surprising amount about plants for someone on the abomination track.” He observed as he knelt down beside her.

“Well, between you and me I’m not really the best at abominations.” Willow replied without really thinking, too enamored by the details of the flower before her to monitor her filter.

“Oh, well that was surprisingly… honest.” He marveled.

Oh shoot, Amity probably didn’t want a rumor that she didn’t excel at the abomination track getting back to the Emperor.

“I-I just mean you know in all my studies I-I have sooo many studies!” Willow sputtered. “When I said ‘I’m not the best’ I mean more like uh… like uh…”

“Oh, no I didn’t mean anything by it! No, it’s just that… in other afternoon arrangements I’ve had they always try to talk themselves up, they’d never admit to not doing well at something.” He cleared his throat, uncertain why he cared about offering her peace of mind in her confession.”It’s… refreshing. I feel like you’re the first person I’m actually getting to know.”

Willow smiled. “Well alright then, your turn,” she said, standing back up brushing the lingering dirt off her knees. “Tell me something you don’t like.”

“Wild witches,” he responded instantly, low and dramatic.

“O-kay,” Willow said nervously. “Maaaybe switch gears then, what’s something you like?”

“Catching wild witches.”

“No,” she giggled, shaking her head. “That’s your job, but what’s something you do that’s just for you? Like, a hobby or something you do for fun?”

“I like… to read?” He said after a moment, too embarrassed to tell her he had no time for fun. None of the questions he had gotten had ever been so… genuine.

“Okay, that’s a start,” she said with a smile. “What do you like to read about?”

He went to answer and she quickly cut him off to say: “And don’t say ‘about how to catch wild witches.’”

“Fine,” he said, cracking a smile she could hear. “I like… reading books about adventures, and history, and the human realm.”

“Ooh, my best friend is a big fan of the human realm,” said Willow enthusiastically. She decided it was best to not mention Luz, lest his line of questions shift back to the wild witch she was known to be staying with. “We found a book about human gardening at the market once and the lack of carnivorous plants over there is very surprising.”

“Yes! Exactly, okay I’ve said that exact thing before!” He replied excitedly, elated to hear his thoughts echoed. “I think it’s because the rain doesn’t boil over there and it makes their foliage more docile.”

“Oh yeah! That’s a good point!” Willow said as their excitement connected.

“And not to mention the psshahshshlssh.”

“Oh sorry, I didn't catch that.”

“I was just saying how the flowers here aren’t as deedsmdnns.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Willow asked again, his sentiment lost behind his mask.

“Oh sorry, here lemme just-.” He realized the issue and went to swiftly remove the mask, and when he did Willow couldn’t hear a word he said, only her own thoughts echoing behind her wide eyes.

Oh boy.

He really was just a boy.

And boy he was-

“Hot,” voiced Willow without thinking.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked, moving his hand through his hair, letting a lock spin in front of his face as the rest aired out like a soft halo.

“Er I just mean it must get really hot under that mask,” Willow recovered, the guard none the wiser.

“Um yeah sometimes I guess,” his voice clear and unmuffled making him seem more real somehow. “It’s just for protection and authority and whatever,” he said with a shrug, as though he was explaining why he wore any other mundane accessory. “My uncle requires that I wear it most of the time.”

“It’s a shame cause you really do have a nice face.”

“Oh uh thank you?” He said, averting his gaze to the ground. If anyone else had said it, he’d roll his eyes knowing it was sarcasm or was about to be followed by some nasty comment. But when this girl said it, he somehow knew it was sincere. He dared to hope she wasn’t just saying it to be polite.

He wanted to tell her she did too.

But instead he asked:

“What other flowers do you have in your garden?”

——

He let her talk about plants for hours.

Her friends loved hearing her talk about them, of course, but there was something different about the way the guard listened. He hung on her words like she had invented them, but his contribution proved that he was just as well versed in certain aspects as she was. The tiny, mundane details that often caused other people to get lost were equally beloved by the pair. He just loved knowing things Willow quickly learned, and when she said something he hadn’t known before he treated it like it was a revelation and looked for a way to take notes. And when he talked, oh Titan, there was such a fire in his eyes. Willow loved how he talked with his hands as though he was laying out illustrations that only they could see, even more enchanting than an illusion. When he had been talking longer than he was usually able to, he apologized but Willow insisted he continue.

They had hardly realized any time had passed until they heard Darius call for him, and Willow pulled out her scroll to check the time. They had gone way over the allotted hour.

“Wow, time really flies I guess,” Willow chuckled, hoping she hadn’t kept him from anything important.

“Yeah,” the guard said, unable to hide the tone of disappointment in his voice as he tried to keep it hidden from his face. He put his mask back on. “I’ll uh, walk you out then.”

When they arrived at the gate, a familiar silence danced between them. But this time it fought, as though being crushed by all the things they had not gotten to yet. She turned on her heel and bashfully offered him her hand, trying to safe face (or, rather, Amity’s face).

“Well, it was very nice to meet you-.”

“Hunter,” he said quickly, as though he was unsure it was proper to say.

“What?”

“That’s my name, Hunter,” he said. “You can call me that, if you like. It’s a bit less formal.”

“Is that what all your friends call you?”

“I guess? They would if I did, I mean. Have friends, that is.”

“Well then I’d be happy to call you Hunter,” said Willow. “And you can call me…” Woah, she had almost let it slip. She technically hasn’t introduced herself, she hadn't needed to, but she wanted to return the favor. But in what world was Willow a nickname for Amity? “Clover.”

“Clover?”

“Yeah it’s uh a nickname,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Everyone calls me that.”

“Oh, like a lucky clover.”

“Exactly,” she said in an airy voice she had never used but he had inspired her twice in one afternoon. She’d think of a believable explanation to give Amity later.

“Well I felt very lucky to meet you,” he said bashfully, feeling as though he was trying to add something more within the compliment. He could tell she sensed it as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He felt a little stupid but somehow not in a bad way?

“Me too,” she said softly. “I had fun.”

“Surprisingly I also really enjoyed myself,” he admitted in disbelief. “You’re very nice company, Ms. Blight.”

“You know, you’re not so bad yourself,” she said with a smile. That’s something Amity would say, right? She couldn’t place exactly when the shift had happened but at some point she had forgotten she was supposed to be pretending to tolerate him as she found herself genuinely enjoying herself.

He cleared his throat, kicking at the dirt as he fought against shyness. “Would you want to do this again? I mean, sooner than the weekly arrangement, that is.” He made sure to clarify. “I can plan something outside the castle, maybe show you where Terra has some of her rarer species.”

“Oh, I-I l’d really like that actually,” Willow couldn’t help but say. But that would complicate things even more in many ways. She was supposed to be getting Amity out of this and yet she was committing to more time with him. Plus how could she justify Amity being in two places at once?

“It’s just… I’m…” but she could hardly say that was the reason so what reason could she give that wouldn’t leave him hurt or suspicious?

He sensed her hesitation. “Oh yeah I mean you’re probably busy, I’m probably busy too anyway.”

“Yeah, and I know how strict your uncle can be and well you know how my mom is.”

“Yeah, I… sure do,” he said in a way that only someone who knew Odalia Blight but didn’t want to possibly offend her daughter would. “So, is that why you dyed your hair? I heard she prefers it all green like hers.”

“Oh yeah,” she chuckled, knowing Amity’s most comfortable level of rebellion was letting her roots show.

“I mean, I think it would be lovely on you,” said Hunter shyly. “Green suits you; especially the green of your eyes.”

“Green of my-.” Amity’s eyes were brown and not a brown that would be mistaken for green even in a dim light.

“And I also think they look lovely with the gold frame of your glasses,” Hunter quickly added, dipping his toes into a more detailed compliment. “Your whole face really is uh… very pleasant. Nothing like Odalia. Not that I’m calling your mother ugly! That’s no, I just meant because I know how you feel about her that I can see you as your own person and that you have features that are unique and that look very…”

As Hunter continued to ramble, Willow caught sight of herself in the reflection of a window. She wore the abomination uniform but it was not Amity’s face that looked back at her now. Her eyes darted to her neck and widened when they saw she had forgotten the concealment stone.

Her face, her body, her voice had been hers from the beginning. The only thing Hunter didn’t know about her was her name.

“… I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re very beautiful and I enjoy spending time with you,” he managed to get to the point, his tone indicating he realized it as he was saying it. “Not that I wouldn’t if you weren’t but I guess…” he trailed off again and sighed as Willow’s heart caught up to her mind realizing his words were truly for her, as her.

“You’re just… not what I was expecting,” said Hunter. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t give you the best first impression.”

Her throat felt tight. She hadn’t intended to trick him, not like this. For some reason doing it in her own skin made the lie more hurtful. As spot on as her Amity impression could be, she hadn’t wanted to do the wrong thing and so stuck to what she knew. He just made it easy for her to be herself. He laughed at her jokes and listened to her and looked at her so softly and so attentively and so…and for him to say such nice things… it felt odd but she desperately wanted him to know everything but her name.

“Well, in my opinion first impressions aren’t always all they’re cracked up to be,” she said. “But I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.”

——-

“Amity please,” Willow said, her voice determined to let her know this was not a request to be taken lightly. “In all the years I’ve known you, can you honestly say there was even a single time that I was not a good friend to you?”

“No,” Amity could not even pretend to search for ammo. “But why do you want to go back so badly? Was it the garden?”

“Well, it’s not just the garden,” Willow admitted sheepishly. “The Golden Guard isn’t as scary as everyone makes him out to be, ya know? We had a really good time and I just wanna see him again.”

“Really?” Amity asked with a raise of her eyebrow. When she arrived to download with Willow, she had expected to have much to apologize and make up for. She would never have guessed that her friend would want to take her place again. “Are you sure there’s not something else going on?”

“Well I also maaaaay have forgotten to wear the concealment stone so he thinks you look like me,” Willow added quickly as though it was a minor setback.

“Willow!”

“It’ll be okay though! I’ll think of something to fix it! I’ll make sure you still get credit or ya know maybe we can convince him there’s two girls with the same name and it was like some kind of mix up.”

“You really think that’ll work?”

“No he’s really smart,” Willow admitted, both in awe and disappointment of the truth. “But not just about coven stuff, he knows so many little random facts. We just talked for hours about plants and books and stuff but it felt like only minutes had gone by.”

“I know how that feels,” said Amity, a blush creeping into her face as she remembered her heart flipping when she and Luz had first discussed Azura and all the tangents they went on. How everything flowed so easy, like they were in a bubble.

Amity knew what everyone said about the Golden Guard, that he was cold and strict and stuck up. Whispers in the hallways had said the same thing about her, but she knew why. Maybe he needed a friend like Willow for his true colors to show. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

—-

So she went back the following week and when she entered the gates it was like they picked up right where they left off. Amity had sent her with an itinerary and talking points but all business left her mind when he entered her view. She saw the tenseness leave his shoulders and his stance become relaxed when she smiled at him. Now that she knew he was seeing her, her heart couldn’t help but flutter a little bit.

“You came back,” he said, unable to hide the fact that he was slightly stunned.

“I did,” she replied. “Is that… okay?”

“Yes, yes of course,” he said. “I’m just… not used to having people happy to see me who know me.”

“Well then, they must know you very well then, huh?”

There was hardly a moment of silence between them. Years of not being able to speak freely if anything frivolous poured out of him once she entered his sights. He collected jokes and anecdotes like inventory, counting the minutes until she was back at the gate greeting him with a wide smile no one else had ever held for him. He had considered that their unlikely connection was part of a strategy, but the more she shared about herself quickly put that theory to rest. She didn’t have enough intel on him for blackmail and didn’t do enough to talk herself up to make him feel she was aiming for favoritism. It was almost like she didn’t care about the coven at all, she treated it like an afterthought when it came up. Their shared obligation had brought them together but what kept them coming back together was more than Hunter fully understood. He just knew that once a week he could breathe.

There were some close calls (like referring to herself as an only child once) but luckily Willow knew Amity well enough that she could quickly recover any slip ups.It actually made it easier for her to visit on the days they weren’t technically meant to. Amity was a known sucker for extra credit, so of course she’d insist on more time with the coven head who was meant to be mentoring her. Though she did not say much when their time consisted of less mentoring and more of overly competitive games of capture the flag and listing fun facts at each other.

He asked her why she was on the abomination track when she so clearly was suited for the plant track and she said her father thought it was best for her, which was both in character and not a lie.

When they would get off on a tangent that he could not relate to official coven business, she smoothed it out by claiming the fact that they were meeting under the arrangement of her mother and the emperor made whatever they ended up doing official coven business. So he enjoyed her company without guilt, which allowed him to feel the new, confusing nerves all the more.

Despite the purpose of the arrangement being to help see if she would be a worthy addition to the coven, she never once asked about it. She asked about him plenty, but it was almost as though she had forgotten she was there on business.

---

A few weeks into the arrangement, Hunter was pacing at the gate waiting for his guest. It wasn’t like her to be late, in fact she usually came early so they’d have more time together. Every other candidate had reached a point when they stopped coming back, his drills were too much or his voice too annoying, or sometimes they neglected to give a reason all together. Granted this round had been different, he couldn’t deny he hadn’t been following usual protocol or checklist, but he felt that they both believed it was different in the best way. He had never been nervous like this before, he was nervous every day they were to meet. But it was a good nervous, he didn’t know how else to explain it.

His heart leapt when he finally saw her land on her palisman. He straightened his spine and ran his hand through his hair as she walked to the gate, lacking her usual pep.

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” Willow said forlorn, trudging in.

“It’s fine, I totally wasn’t worried you weren’t coming or anything,” said Hunter nervously, barely hiding the truth within. His face became serious as he noticed the disdain did not leave her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she sighed, trying to force a smile. “This girl at school is just out to get me. Whenever she sees me she finds something to make fun of, and normally I can ignore it because I know she just wants a reaction out of me but I woke up already not feeling great and I dunno I guess it just got to me today.”

“What kind of things does she say?”

“That’s the worst part too, like the things she says aren’t even true or clever but she just keeps saying them,” Willow sighed. “Like she needs me to know how much she believes I’m a loser and that I’ll always be weak. It’s like she needs to make sure there’s someone worse off than her otherwise she can’t feel good about herself.”

“I’m surprised anyone would even try to mess with you, you know considering your status.”

“Oh yeah, as a Blight.”

“Oh well yeah but I mean just because of your ability in general,” said Hunter. “You’re a very powerful witch.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” he said with confidence. Willow knew he must be fully informed of Amity’s academic strides to have secured her time with him, the Blights had a reputation in every aspect a person could. “I mean, it took Terra weeks to figure out how to get that seed to sprout and when I gave it to you you did it in minutes.”

“I didn’t even do anything really, I just held it to my heart because I was so excited. I just got lucky.”

“Yes but your first instinct was to be kind to it, Terra would never try something like that,” said Hunter. “Your magic comes from a genuine, caring place. It’s not for show or power and that’s what I think makes it so strong.”

Willow just stared at him.

“What? Did I say something weird? Is there something on my face? Why are you-.”

She wrapped him in a hug.

“You didn’t say anything weird,” said Willow. “It was just what I needed to hear. It was so sweet, thank you Hunter.”

“Yeah well I-if you what I can make that girl spend a night in the dungeon,” said Hunter, still unsure how to respond to her genuine words sometimes. His arms were pinned at his sides as she rested the side of her face on his chest. He didn’t know what to say but he didn’t want her to think him not talking meant he wanted her to let go.He didn’t know what this was but he knew he didn’t hate it. “We’ll see if she tries to mess with you again after that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she giggled, looking up at him. “But you know what would really make me feel better?”

“What?”

“Watching you try your first slice of fairy pie!”

He gasped. “No way!”

She giggled at his expression as she released him to skip over to her bag. “I told you my dad makes the best so I saved you some from my lunch!” She rushed back over to him with the carefully packaged slice she had perfectly crafted for him. Hunter took it and eyed it skeptically.

“Alador made this?”

“No, he- er yeah I know right?” Willow gave the best nonanswer she could.

“And there’s no like… abomination goo in it?” he asked, only half joking as he looked it over.

“No I promise; I helped make this batch myself.

“Well it smells and looks really amazing,” Hunter said, feeling his mouth start to water. “But I can’t take this from you. Besides, I have my own piece of bread that I shouldn’t let go to waste.”

He went to fetch it from the table: the stale, pale slice of bread he had every encounter, the emperor’s idea of a snack. If you asked Willow, it shouldn’t be any person’s idea of edible.

“Well how about we swap then?” Willow offered. “My friends and I do it all the time! Try something new. You have the cake and I’ll take your bread so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“Are you sure? It hardly seems like a fair trade to yo-,” before Hunter could finish objecting, Willow snatched the bread from his hands and licked it.

”Now you have no choice.” She said plainly.

He was stunned and flustered and embarrassed all at once. He never knew how to explain the things she did or how he felt about them. He knew she didn’t care about impressing him, yet she did it without trying. She didn’t care how it made her look. She wasn’t trying to bribe him. She did nice things for him because they would help him, there was no favors or ulterior motives lurking within her actions.

She placed the cake in his hands, making it clear she would hear no more on the matter.

The cake was everything she said it was, which meant it was everything his normal snack wasn’t. This was rich and vibrant and sharp and sweet in a way Hunter didn’t know was possible. He both wanted to savor it and devour it as quickly as possible. Willow’s reaction was less entrancing, as she tried to fake a smile as she marveled at how something could taste sour and salty and somehow flavorless at the same time.

When she managed to stomach it, she turned to see his reaction and was surprised to see him looking despondent despite the extra frosting she had added to the treat that she had been sure would delight him.

“What’s wrong? Does it taste okay?”

“No, I mean yes I mean it’s just… you had a bad day and you still came to see me,” Hunter said.

“Yeah, I mean I had a feeling I’d be late but-.”

“No it’s not about that, it's just… well. it would be a perfectly valid reason to not come by,” said Hunter. “If you weren’t feeling up to it or something, it would be understandable. But then when you did, you end up making me feel better.”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“That’s what being friends is,” she said simply, trying not to smile too wide at the stray bit of frosting that was smudged on the side of his mouth.

“We’re friends?”

“Yeah,” she said, trying in vain to bite into the stale loaf. “What else would we be?”

“Well I … I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. He wanted to ask what other things they could be. “I guess I’m just… glad to hear you say it.”

“Well then,” she said with a smile, scotting a bit closer to him to wipe the rogue bit of frosting from his cheek. “I’ll be sure to say it more often.”

“Cool,” he said, breaking off a piece of the pie to hand to her,she accepted if for no other reason than she needed the stale and somehow sour aftertaste from her mouth. She would definitely be bringing him more suitable treats going forward.

“And besides,” she said with a smile. “Seeing you made me feel better too.”

----

On the off chance it should ever come up, Willow and Amity also met weekly to go over the meetings, Willow filling her in on any talking points that Darius might mention or Odalia might ask about. Of course, Willow did not tell Amity everything that went on at their encounters, she certainly kept the fluttering feeling in her chest to herself and the growing collection of heart doodles in her notebooks didn’t seem to come up. Willow just guaranteed that she was doing the Blight name justice and that her mother would be pleased with the report that may find its way back to her. She wasn’t sure how Hunter reported things, wondering if there were any portions he also kept to himself.

“... and then he mentioned the trial exams and “

“And what else did he say about those? Did he give you any clue about the new format?”

“Uh, maybe?” said Willow with a shrug. “Then I showed him a cute picture of Clover and he showed me a trick that he and his palisman have been practicing where he spins and then they both-.”

“Wait, he has a palisman?”

“Oh, shoot!” exclaimed Willow, sitting back up. “You can’t tell anyone! It’s a secret, oh but he’s so cute! Him and Clover get along so well. Oh my titan, I took the cutest picture of them playing when Hunter was telling us about-.”

“Hunter? Who is Hunter?”

“Oh,uh the er golden guard,” Willow said, feeling shy for some reason. “That’s his name. Is that a secret too?”

“I’m not sure,” Amity said. “But I guess it’s just surprising he lets you call him that. But I guess that means the meetings really have been going well huh?”

“Yeah,” Willow sighed, admitting a photo she had taken of Hunter and Flapjack when he wasn’t looking. The bird was looking up at him with so much love and happiness and Hunter gently stroked under his chin, smiling as the sun framed the scene. His jawline was sharp and his eyes were soft, he looked so content and comfortable and cute and- she was starting to suspect this was not a platonic way to look at a photo for five minutes straight as she totally forgot Amity was talking to her.

“...but it’s not like it’s guaranteed or anything, I mean I’m sure he would’ve mentioned it to you by now but we have a few years before it’s an issue and by then my mom might have dropped it, I mean Miss Lilith said I was on track to join the coven but that might not even be something I want by then and-.”

“What? Oh my titan Amity I’m so sorry I… I wasn’t paying attention.”

Amity rolled her eyes endearingly and laughed. “No worries, I was just saying how my mom was excited when she found out the Golden guard had taken over the coven because she thinks she can talk the emperor into an arrangement.”

“Like what kind of arrangement?” Willow asked, scrolling through her collection of photos as she sipped her drink.

“Like one like she and my dad have I think,” said Amty, wrinkling her nose. “A business marriage to try and get me ahead but like that wouldn’t guarantee anything and besides it would be totally-.”

She was cut off by Willow nearly choking to death.

“Hey, woah!” she patted her friend’s back as she caught her breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said after she managed to catch her breath. “I… um…Amity, are these meetings supposed to be like a… courtship?”

“Um I guess but my mom knows that I-.”

“Does Hunt- I mean, the golden guard, does he know?”

“Um maybe? I'm sure my mom isn’t the first person to try it, I mean it’s like the oldest trick in the book.”

“Amity, why didn’t you tell me I was basically going on dates with him this whole time?”

“Because my mom is always thinking of something new to get ahead and it never works out the way she- wait, why does that matter?”

“Because what if he thinks that I think we've basically been going on dates that I don’t actually like him I’m just trying to jump ahead into the coven and- why are you looking at me like that?”

Amity offered her a knowing glare before the dots connected and she pointed her finger at her friend and declared dramatically. “You like him!”

“What?!”

“You do! You like him!”

“I- maybe? I might? Kind of?” Willow knew she couldn’t deny it, she also kind of didn’t want to. “I mean sure, we have a lot in common and he’s really smart and funny and then I found out he was cute and I guess I just-.”

“Wait, cute? You saw his face?”

“Yeah, is that a big deal?”

“Well I don’t think he wears the mask because he wants everyone knowing what he looks like,” said Amity. “He must trust you.”

“Great,” groaned Willow, flopping onto the bed. “He trusts me and I’ve been lying to him since the moment we met.” Her voice was muffled by her pillow. Amity sighed and went to pat her back to reassure her but hesitated, not as skilled at comforting others as she wished she was. She cleared her throat and tried to offer a positive thought, but thankfully Willow cut her off as she continued to voice her thoughts.

“The ironic part is I really do feel like myself around him,” she sighed, rolling over to be heard better as she hugged the pillow to her chest. “But if I tell him now he might not believe me or he’ll be upset and then you’ll get in trouble on top of it!”

“I shouldn’t have put you in this position in the first place,” said Amity solemnly..

“I’m honestly kind of glad you did,” Willow admitted bashfully. “I… I really do like him.”

“Well as… unorthodox as your meeting was, I’m happy for you,” said Amity. “I’m sure he likes you too.”

Willow couldn’t help but blush, feeling giddy to finally be open about her crush. She had missed talking crushes with Amity.

“Which probably isn’t ideal since he thinks you’re me, huh?”

“Yeah that’s… probably not great.”

“I mean, he may think you’re a Blight but he knows inside you’re a Park,” Amity offered proudly. Willow simply offered her a look.

“Was that too much?” Amity winced.

“It was a little cheesy,” Willow admitted with a chuckle. “But you’re right. I care about him and don’t want to hurt him. So I think I know what I have to do.”

Amity could tell that knowing the right thing to do also meant Willow wouldn’t enjoy doing it.

—-

Willow did not go back the next week.

Or the week after that.

She couldn't help but feel like doing so was leading him on. Even though she knew she felt… a certain way about him,there was no scenario she could think of that didn’t end with him feeling heartbroken or foolish. The Blights were known to be busy, she hoped he’d assume she’d been held up with school or other obligations.

But instead, he broke his own heart because she was too polite to do it.

Which is how he found himself at the Blights’ door.

He waited patiently as the abomination servant fetched Odalia, who greeted him with a smile that lacked sincerity and brought to mind a vampire. How had such a cold place brought forth such a warm person?

There was no turning back now, he would not be scared off by the unfortunate circumstance of her upbringing. Hunter removed his mask knowing it naturally lent authority to his tone and he wanted to assure that this came not as a demand or something official but a personal request from the heart. He had rehearsed it in the mirror for hours, imagined and planned different scenarios of varying grandness but he didn’t want it confused for a spectacle.

“Mrs. Blight, I’ve come here to ask for your blessing,” he said, certain and nervous in a way that made the contraction feel welcoming.

“Blessing? Blessing for what, exactly?”

He took a deep breath to better brace himself and his heavy eyes were serious and sincere as the words entered the world outside his bedroom for the first time.

“I believe I am in love with your daughter.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” she replied with a smug gleam in her eye. “The Blights shine so brightly, of course the emperor’s right hand man can see that clearly. Allow me to fetch her.”

Hunter straightened his spine as Odalia touched her broach and in a moment, Emira appeared beside her.

“Oh, uh I-I’m sorry I meant your other daughter,”

“Oh,” said Odalia. “Heh, my apologies.” She touched her broach and Amity came trudging in beside her sister, trying to keep her composure when she discovered the reason why.

“Oh, uh I guess I meant your other other daughter,” he clarified once more.

“Edric?” Emira said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Amity,” said Hunter. “Though I know she prefers to go by-.”

“This is Amity, your grace,” said Odalia, bringing Amity forward. “I understand if you didn't recognize her. I know the purple hair is rather unappealing, but we can change it if it isn’t to your liking.”

“No, no that’s not-.” He sighed. “Are you sure there’s no one else here? Anyone who might go by Clover?”

“‘Clover?’” Emira repeated. “Isn’t that the name of-.”

“Um, ya know I think we just need some privacy,” said Amity, nearly jumping out of her skin as she ran to take Hunter’s wrist. “Excuse us won’t you okay byeee!”

Hunter followed her until they were out of earshot, then stopped to demand some explanation. His confusion bordered on anger, slowly shifting to hurt.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re not in love with me.”

“Well duh,” scoffed Hunter. “I’m in love with Amity.”

“No, no you’re not,” she sighed. “I mean, you are but the Amity you think is Amity isn’t really Amity because I’m really Amity.”

“What?”

She went and pulled out her scroll and turned to show him a photo. “This is her, right?”

He looked down and saw it was her… whoever she was. She was bright and beaming, smiling the smile he knew meant she had been laughing.

“Yes,” he said. For a moment, his heart dropped as he considered the notion that she had seen him coming and fled the house in order to avoid this conversation. “So if she’s not here… what’s going on?”

—

Willow had drafted dozens of letters she didn’t know how to send. No matter how she worded it., the truth just didn’t seem good enough. And now she had let time pass, maybe too much time. But she didn’t know which she was more afraid of: hurting him or admitting she had been hurting him all along. But realistically what did she think would happen? He was essentially a prince. Her reputation labeled her as half-a-witch. Their worlds were never meant to collide, he would be bored of her or outgrow her soon enough. He would never demote himself to her world.

Then she saw him at the end of her garden path, walking to her front door.

No mask, no armor, no walls. Just him. Her heart raced and sank and hid over and over. Was he here to arrest her? To yell at her? To save her? Suddenly, she didn’t care. After weeks that felt like lifetimes, seeing him just made her come to realize how much she missed him.

He knocked.

She quickly fluffed her hair in the mirror by her front door and took a deep breath before she slowly opened it for him. She didn’t know what to say, if she should greet him, hug him, or if she should have pretended to not be home. Once their eyes met, the words flooded out.

“I’m sorry,” she said with wide eyes. “Are you mad? It’s okay if you are, I’d be mad too. You should be mad, I lied to you. I had a good reason to, I know it’s not an excuse because I kept doing it even after Amity asked me to stop. I just liked you and spending time with you and I promise I never lied about that and I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how and I-.”

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“I- what?”

“Your name,” he said breathlessly. “Your real name.”

“Willow,” she said. “Willow Park.”

“Willow,” he repeated, like it made the air taste sweeter. It suited it, it felt like it should be so obvious that it was the perfect word to describe her. It was elegant and whimsical and simple in a way that managed to capture all that she was in mere letters. It had music in it, like reciting a fond dream.

“Well Willow Park,” he said, the name dancing on his lips like prayer as he extended his hand to her. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

She took it. “The pleasure is all mine, Golden Guard sir,”

“Please call me Hunter.”

“Okay,” she said nervously. “Even though I actually don’t have the status of a Blight? You’re still okay with me calling you Hunter?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what my friends call me.”

“Okay cool,” she said, feeling nervous around him for the first time in weeks. She brushed her hair behind her ear, feeling like he was waiting for her to say more. “So um h-how did you find me?”

“Oh, Amity- the real Amity- told me,” he explained. “When you stopped showing up I went to Blight manor to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said softly. “I wanted to explain but I didn’t want to get Amity in trouble and I didn’t want to lie and it was just easier this way. It’s cowardly, I know. But I was worried that if I went to tell you and saw you I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”

“Oh, okay,” he voice wavered and he cleared his throat to try and hide it. “I uh- t-that’s good to know then. I was also worried that maybe I had done something to offend you.”

“No of course not! Why would you think that?”

“Well the last time I saw you we um, or rather I lingered in our embrace,” he said, his face reddening with every word. “And I was worried that it may have been inappropriate that you could interpret it as unprofessional.”

She had noticed, but she would have sworn she had been the one lingering.

“That’s definitely not the reason.”

“So then you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said with a smile. “I’m the one with things to apologize for.”

“Weeeeell that’s not entirely true,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Since we’re admitting things, you or rather Amity I suppose, didn’t need to keep coming because… my uncle stopped requiring it after the second visit. So I… I kind of lied too.”

“And why would you do something like that?”

“Because I liked spending time with you,” he said. “And I would like to see you again,” he cleared his throat to try and summon his confident tone back. “Outside the castle walls.”

Willow smiled. “To do what?”

“Well, uh I know the… situation of how we met wasn’t entirely… ideal “ he continued. “And I eh- hold on, this changes my speech a little.”

“You made a speech?” she said, knowing he made speeches for the most important matters in his life. “For me?”

“I heh yeah I did,” he said with a chuckle. He knew she wouldn’t mock him, her teasing was always gentle and from a caring place. She helped him see the humor in himself, that allowed him to relax for at least a moment.“I… it’s so weird. I had no trouble telling Odalia Blight how I felt about you.Titan, I loved you even when I thought you were a Blight, I considered it the closest thing you had to a flaw and even then I-.”

He looked up and saw her gentle expression was gone and now she looked stunned. Not upset, just surprised.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, worried he had misread the situation.

“You just… you just said you loved me.” Willow said as though letting him know he had misspoke.

“Oh! I mean yes, I did,” he tried to save face. “I did say that because… well… it’s not totally untrue. I mean I was researching dynamics within a friendship and found many of the aspects present in our interactions but then there were other… feelings that were slightly more advanced than ones expressed within a purely platonic relationship. And one day after you left I suppose my face was still rather flushed when a scout saw me and they accused me of being in love and I… I don’t think they were wrong?”

She knew they were young and being in love was something major and brought with more time but Titan she couldn’t deny that she loved hearing him say it. Despite his feeling causing him to be teased and confused and uneasy, he trusted her enough to share it unfiltered.

“You mean a lot to me too,” she said, trying to balance the sentiments dancing between them. “

“Sorry if I’m talking a lot I just feel like when I don’t see you I save all the things I want to say and they just like flood out because I just feel really safe around you and I know it was only a week but I really missed you, like I miss you every time sorry if that’s weird or-.”

“It’s not weird,” she said, taking his hands in hers. “It’s definitely not weird.”

“Yeah okay,” he chuckled, trying to hide his blush as he couldn’t help but focus on how soft her hands were. “So it’s… okay? I wanted to do this right and not seeing you at Blight manor kind of threw me through a loop. I just pictured it happening a certain way.”

“How did you picture it?”

“Well, worst case scenario you turn me down because it was just something you did for your family and you secretly despise me.”

She giggled, not to make fun of him but because it seemed like an impossible scenario. “And the best case?”

“Well I… I guess this is probably better than the best case,” he said. He balled his fists at his sides and bit his lip, feeling entirely out of his element.

“Hunter,” she began gently, finding solace in the fact that they felt out of place together. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” he said, dramatically exhaling unaware he had been holding his breath in the first place. “Oh thank Titan I’m so glad you said something because I did not know where I was going with that.”

They laughed, falling into a comfort they had both missed dearly.

“So… can we start over?” she asked. “No lies?”

“Sounds good to me, Willow,” he said, getting used to the excitement that came with saying her name now. “So since we’re being honest, do you actually have any interest in joining the emperor’s coven?”

“Not really,” she admitted, sucking her teeth. “Is that okay?”

“Well, technically I’m only supposed to socialize with potential recruits,” said Hunter, pretending to be distraught. “So it looks like I’m going to have to find a way to convince you.”

“Hmmm, that might take awhile though.”

“I’m prepared to arrange as many meetings as necessary to try and enlist you,” he declared in a new version of his ‘official’ voice. “The emperor’s coven can’t let a recruit with your potential get away so easily.”

“So what do you have in mind?”

“Well, I’d love to take you to the botanical gardens we talked about,” he said. “Perhaps one of those flyer derby matches you mentioned or that bakery I pass by on patrol.”

“I’d really like that,” she said with a smile.

“So we… have a new arrangement?” he asked, extending his hand to her before adding just because he liked saying it: “Willow?”

“It looks like we do,” she said, shaking his hand. “As long as you’re prepared to give the speech you wrote for the Blights to my dads.”

#huntlow #huntlow fanfic #toh #toh fanfiction #the owl house #willow park #hunter toh #amity blight

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bad268 · 7 months ago

Text

Felony Purdy (Brock Purdy X Pregnant! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/NFL

Requested: Yee by @kitwalkersabductor (and @madmushroomxsoph wanted fluff, so here you go <3)

Warnings: Pregnant reader but no pronouns used, brief mention of labor (but not graphic)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1147

Summary: Names are hard to settle on.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“Brock, it’s getting to the point where we’re gonna need to start thinking about baby names,” You said one day after he came back from practice. You just hit 32 weeks and you found out you would be having a daughter at 20 weeks. Now, it was setting in that you only had 8 weeks left of pregnancy, and you knew it would fly by. The last thing you wanted was to go into early labor and not have a name prepared for her. “I made a list.”

“Is this a serious list or a suggestion list?” Brock teased, knowing that you liked to joke about names in your earlier stages of pregnancy.

“Are you saying none of my names are serious?” You started tearing up, thinking that he did not like any of the names you suggested, serious or not. “Ashley Purdy is cute.”

“I’m not talking about Ashley,” Brock laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his side. “I’m more so talking about Felony.”

“Felony Purdy would be cute if a felony wasn’t a crime!” You defended as you shot up. You looked down at your bump with a frown as you rubbed around it before glaring at Brock. “If you suggested anything good, maybe I wouldn’t get my hopes up for certain names.”

“You said Rosacea, and I countered with Rose and Rowan. What do you mean?” He laughed in disbelief, trying not to sound defensive or condescending. He knows your mental state has been fragile lately, and the last thing he wants is to hurt your feelings.

“Rose is such a common name, and I don’t like Rose Purdy,” You grumbled as you crossed your arms and leaned back into his side. “What about Calorie? It’s like Valerie but different.”

“Calorie? Please tell me you’re joking,” He chuckled in disbelief but immediately stopped when he noticed you were not laughing. In fact, you had tears in your eyes that were about to fall. “Wait, babe, please hear me out. Calorie, you do know what it means right?”

“It’s cute, Brock. You don’t have to talk to me like a toddler. I know what calorie means,” You sighed unhappily, but after a minute of him staring at you, you realized why he was straying you away from that name. “I stand corrected. What about Brie? That’s cute! Little Brie Purdy!”

“Brie as in Brie cheese?”

“And now you’ve ruined it,” You moaned, throwing your head back. “What about Merlot? I think that’s adorable.”

“You’re just manifesting our daughter to be a whiner,” Brock joked, but it fell flat to you. “Why don’t we stick with more traditional names? Like Elizabeth, Miranda, or Diana?”

“They’re too common!” You cried out as you turned to face Brock, holding his face in your hands. “We are never going to find the perfect name for her. I already feel like I’m failing as a parent, and I haven’t even started.”

“Maybe we could wait to see her, and it will just come to us?” Brock offered. “I would hate for us to find a name we like and take one look at her and think it doesn’t fit her, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh! You’re so smart, Brock! Why didn’t I think of that?” You gasped with a smile.

“You just have a little bit of pregnancy brain,” Brock comforted as be placed a kiss on your nose, “Don't stress it too much. We’ll find the perfect name for her when she gets here. Until then, I don’t wanna hear you stressing over her name anymore, got it?”

“No promises, but I won’t settle on one,” You laughed as you finally leaned in to connect your lips to his.

When the time came, to say you felt unprepared would be the understatement of the century. You started early labor while Brock was at an away game, but his mom was a huge help. Through everything, she stayed by your side along with your support system, and together, they all helped you through the hours of pain you endured. Thankfully, he was able to make it by the time your daughter was born.

After a few hours of recovering, you decided that you were rested enough to hold your daughter, so that’s what you were doing. Listening to the Niners game that Brock had to leave early while she slept, you could not take your eyes off of her. She was the perfect combination of you and Brock. She had your hair color and his facial structure. Her eyes that were currently closed were bright blue, which the nurses told you would most likely get darker over time, but they were beautiful nonetheless. You could stare at her for hours, and you probably were because, at one point, Brock sat behind you to help you hold her up, noticing your arms start dropping.

In the comfortable silence, names flew around in your head, trying to see if any of them would stick with her. Brock was still sitting with you, looking down at her also thinking about names. Then, it was like a lightbulb went off, and the name you thought of was perfect. You were thinking that nothing else fit right, and this was meant to be her name. Brock caught onto the shift in your body posture as you pulled her closer to your body.

“Did you think of the name?” He whispered as he leaned his head onto your shoulder, tightening his hold around you and your daughter.

“Yeah, I did,” You said back just as quietly before turning away from her for the first time in forever to look at Brock. You muttered, “I think she looked like a Felony Purdy.”

“I swear if you’re serious,” He trailed off with a light laugh. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just screwing with you,” You teased as you leaned back you bonk your head against his shoulder. “Can’t I make a joke?”

“I thought we were having a moment,” He laughed as he kissed your forehead.

“We are,” You pointed out before looking back down to your daughter. You smiled as you thought of the name again before looking back over to Brock seriously. “What about Emerson?”

“Emerson Y/n Purdy,” He said as if to test the name out before smiling wide. “I think it’s perfect. Just like you. Thank you for being the best partner and parent to our little Emerson.”

“Thank you for being the best partner and best supporter I could have during this journey,” You said sincerely. “And don’t worry, she will always be my little felony.”

“You know, some parents have cutsy names for their kids like munchkin, sugar bear, or ducky, but you want to nickname our daughter felony?” Brock replied in disbelief.

“She needs to know what her almost-name was!”

~~~~~

#brock purdy x reader #brock x reader #brock purdy #pregnant reader #san francisco 49ers #49ers #niners #nfl football #national football league #nfl x reader #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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offbrandkyoya · 5 months ago

Note

Hey love if u cud do a piece of yuu nishinoya x reader where it’s enemies to lovers where they constantly argue ( fr can’t find any nishinoya enemies to lovers fics)

I HATE YOUR GUTS!! - nishinoya yuu (hq)

you and nishinoya argue like it’s your last day on earth. God forbid you get any peace from that loud mouth and nishinoya feels the same about you. these arguments end up as something else however…

contents: enemies to lovers, gn!reader, angst, fluff, not accurate to the hq timeline, reader has a small crush on daichi, fake friends, academic achiever reader, nishinoya hating someone is crazy, ennoshita fan service (jk)

word count: 1k

a/n: I hope I did it justice!!! :3 Kinda nervy but I love noya #noya4eva

Nishinoya Yuu is loved by all, especially the ladies.

He’s friendly, outgoing, and considerate. It’s so easy to get on his good side. It can be the same on his good side as it can be on his bad side. Nishinoya considers himself the best friend you can ask for, but if you say or make the wrong move, you’re done.

Unfortunately, Nishinoya doesn’t just not like this person; he hates them.

It’s not even rivalry; it’s pure hatred.

"Look, it’s y/n!” He overhears what his peers say. Looking up to the end of the hall, sure enough, it’s you. Nishinoya grimaces and rolls his eyes. As you were nearing his view, you also had a look of disgust. His face just ticked you off, and you turned your face away, making a tsk sound.

Nishinoya grumbles and shouts, “The hell did you say?!” You stopped walking and faced him. “I literally said nothing! You’re imagining things!” “Oh yeah?! I know what I heard!” You groan, “UGH! You’re so annoying!” “So are you!” You furrowed your brows. “Me? Annoying? You’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met!”

Nishinoya takes a step forward and says, “You’re more obnoxious than anyone I know!” “You have like one friend.” “I DO NOT!” You roll your eyes while shaking your head. You begin to walk away, with Nishinoya continuing to shout at you.

“What the-! Get back here!” “Sorry! My friends are waiting for me!” Nishinoya growls, then stomps right into his classroom.

You wouldn’t consider yourself popular, but you kind of were. Mostly because of how smart you are. You’re humble about it, but you never fail to rub it in Nishinoya’s face.

And that pisses him off.

“We can hear you guys shouting from below.”

Daichi states this with a serious expression. Nishinoya pouts, “They had it coming!” “Seriously?” Daichi sighs, pinching his nose bridge. “Nishinoya, you can’t keep arguing with them every chance you get.” “But they deserve it.” Nishinoya says it matters factually. “Nishinoya.” “Ughhhhh.”

Daichi lets him go to walk back to class.

“I’m not a child.” Nishinoya mumbles. It's kind of embarrassing to have your volleyball captain, who’s also a grade above you, come down to personally lecture you. As he heads straight to his classroom, you walk out from the corner, causing him to frown deeply.

You notice him and return the gesture. “A bug.” You say out loud, and Nishinoya's eyebrow twitches. “Don’t you have anything better to do than pick on Karasuno's one and only guardian?” “No one calls you that.” “Yes, they do!” You cross your arms. “Let me guess.” You point at him with a condescending smirk. “Those sorry first years?”

Nishinoya raises a brow. “So?” “So?” You laughed. “They’re first years! They don’t know any better!” “Our captain agrees with me. ” You blush. “Sawamura?” His eyes widen a little. “No way…” He whispers. Seeing your flushed face, there’s only one answer to this, and that makes him laugh. “You like Daichi?!”

You stutter, “I-I do not!” You sigh, “Think of it as a celebrity crush!” "Uh, huh, right.” “I’m serious!” Nishinoya chuckles, “To think you’re actually able to feel any type of love.” Your face is still burning. “Screw you, seriously! I do not like him! Not like that anyway!” “You don’t like who?” You whip your head around, and it was your close friend.

You compose yourself, straighten your shirt, and part your hair. “N-nothing! I was just, uh-“ “Don’t care.” She interrupts. “Anyways, hurry up; we’ve been waiting for you for like ever.” “Sorry…” You lower your head. She pats your head, then finally notices Nishinoya. "Oh, were you arguing with that shorty again?” “HUH?!”

You chuckle. “Yeah. Short guy, short temper.” “I’m seriously going to kill you!” Nishinoya shouts. “Let’s go, y/n.” She walks off, and you nod. “Kay.” You glance at Nishinoya and grin before leaving. Nishinoya really hates you.

“Not only is y/n a dick, so is their friend!” He complains to Ennoshita, who’s trying to get his work done. “And this is new?” He thinks for a moment: “Not really.” Ennoshita sighs. “Then why’re you telling me this?” “Because you’re my therapist!” “I am not.”

Ennoshita looks back down at his paper. “I really don’t know what you expect.” Nishinoya crosses his arms. “I just want them to fail at least once. I hate seeing their name at the top.” Ennoshita looks at him and says, “Then put in effort.” “Nah, I don’t want to." Ennoshita sighs once more. Nishinoya leans forward, resting his head on his friend’s desk.

“I mean, someone else beat them!” He stares right at Ennoshita, and the other isn’t phased. “In your dreams.” “Damn it!”

Nishinoya was at a loss. He wanted to get back at you so badly, but his stupidity and low attention span wouldn’t let him.

He roams the hall after exiting the restroom and finds you on your phone. He grins mischievously and points at you, “Y/N! Why’re you on your phone?!” He shouts, and you quickly put it away, rushing to him and trying to slap him, but he dodged. “YOU-“ He laughs as he dodges your every attack.

Your cheeks were flushed, and you stopped trying to hit him. “Mind your damn business, you mouse!” "Mouse, I am, because not even a cat can catch me.” He looks at you since you’re the feline in this analogy. Your face turns even more red. “You’re so insufferable! Can’t you back off?! Go fawn over Kiyoko or something!”

Nishinoya shakes his head. “Bothering you is much more fun. All you do is walk away when you can’t handle the smoke.” You raise a brow at that. “Are you calling me a coward?” “What? Need me to say the word for you to get the picture?” Your blood boils. “I’m not a coward.” He shrugs. "Okay, then fight me.” Then he laughs, “Or are you going to run away like you always do?”

You grab his collar, but at the same time, he holds your fist to stop it. “Coward.” He mouths, and you were really going to punch the hair dye out of his hair.

“Y/n,” Your friend appears behind you, and you stutter, “I was just!" “You and Sawamura?!” She laughs and grabs your arm, forcing you to stand next to her. “You know how much I like him! How could you do that to me?!” “I don’t like him, I swear!” You glance at Nishinoya, who only shrugs at you. He didn’t say anything about you liking Daichi to anyone.

“You better not.” She states and lets you go, “Where are you going?” “Gym. Bye.” You just stand there in panic. You take a step forward but shiver and look back at Nishinoya. He didn’t have an angry expression, but more of a confused one. His eyes were digging into your soul as he wondered what you’re going to do now.

You take a breath, turn back, face forward, and walk away.

Nishinoya walks out of the school and starts to head to the gym. Volleyball always takes his mind off things, and imagining your face as the volleyball is really therapeutic!

As he stands at the gate, he hears crying.

Nishinoya perks up and listens closely. The sound isn’t that far, and he slowly makes his way to it. To his surprise, he sees you sitting on the bench under the tree.

You covered your face, head hanging low, and hunched over in sobs.

Nishinoya has never seen you like this before and kind of thinks you deserve whatever happened to you. But he’s a nice guy at the end of the day. He scratches his head before walking up to you. “Hey,” he starts, and you sniffle before looking up at him. “What? Are you going to make fun of me?” You wipe your tears. “If so, do it fast because I’m not in the mood.” “As much as I want to, I’m not.” He confesses.

“Why’re you crying?” “That’s none of your business.” You say that, and he rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine, whatever. Go cry to your bestie and see if I care. Just letting you know, I tried getting along with you.” He turns around, but he hears you burst out crying again. He turns his head back, and you try to wipe the tears away.

“She’s not my best friend.” You say it in between sobs. “No?” You shake your head. “She just acted like one because of how smart I am.” You started to calm down a little and hug yourself. “I don’t really have friends.” Nishinoya looks at you wide-eyed. “Everyone I hang around just uses me for my brain, and they don’t really like me in their conversations.”

You rub your eyes. “I get good grades, but I’m very lonely. I have no one.” Tears start to appear again, but you close your eyes to prevent it. Nishinoya stands there in awe. You continue to speak, “We were supposed to hang out today, but my friends left without me. They said they cancelled, but their social media posts say otherwise.”

Nishinoya can’t help but feel sorry for you. Which sucks, but, as mentioned, he’s a nice guy. He slowly sits down next to you. “I’m sorry your friends left you alone.” He begins, “You shouldn’t be hanging out with those types of people anyway.” “But I did. I told you, I have no one, so I took the chance.” You then raise a brow at him.

“You’re not laughing at me?” “Can I?” You glared, and he took that as a no. He shrugs while leaning his head back. “I think I just pity you.” You sigh, “I understand. You have lots of friends, and you get along with everyone. You’re so social, and everyone likes you, and you don’t even have to try. You're really awesome, Nishinoya.”

Something happened to him that surprised him. Nishinoya's face was all red, and when you guys made eye contact, he looked away. “R-Really? I mean, duh! I’m the most awesome person ever!�� He gloats. You blink, then laugh. “In your dreams!” It was good hearing your obnoxious laugh again, and that made him puke.

“Well, I’m done here!” He stands up, placing his hands on his hips. “Karasuno needs me!” “You mean the volleyball team or the school?” “You know what I mean!” You laugh again. “You know, Nishinoya, I really don’t hate you right now. Thanks for listening to me ramble.” He blushes again and scratches his cheek. “As long as I can hear you laugh, then it’s worth it.” He admits. “I’d listen to your ramblings every day." “I-I see.”

You look down to cover your flushed face and hold your hands. Nishinoya stares at you for a while before walking to you, grabbing your shoulder gently, and placing a quick kiss on your cheek. You instantly looked back up, and he moved back, his face redder than ever. “Well, see ya.” He starts to pick up the pace, but you immediately call out for him while standing.

“Wait!” He stops but doesn’t look back at you. “Kissing someone like that... you could’ve at least taken me out, you know?” A small smile appears on your face. Nishinoya turns back with a grin. "Picky, are we?” “Very.” “Okay, tomorrow then.” He nods. “And you better pay.” “What the hell?!” You laugh, and he laughs with you.

“Okay, I’ll pay, and I’ll make sure it’s up to your standards.” “That’s what I’d like to hear.” You both smile at each other. You give him a small wave. “Bye, Noya.” He blushed but waved back. “Bye, Y/N.”

Who knew that, in the end, you guys make a perfect couple?

#offbrandkyoya #haikyuu #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya x reader #hq nishinoya #nishinoya yū #yu nishinoya #noya x reader #noya #haikyuu kiyoko #kiyoko shimizu #sawamura daichi #haikyuu daichi

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cecilysass · 26 days ago

Text

Honest Man (2/3)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter Two

Mulder approaches the bar to find the bartender with her arms folded and her expression weary. She’s speaking to Bill and his friends in a condescending monotone.

“So your choices are that he can call a cab, one of y’all can take him home, or I can contact local law enforcement,” she is saying with an extended sigh. “He can’t stay. This is a place of business.”

Bill Scully doesn’t appear to be listening. He is bent over on a barstool, his forehead resting against the bartop. To his right, a group of men have gathered around him, nodding solemnly at the bartender. They look so serious Mulder would think they were attending a wake if it weren’t for the guy with the pink and silver cardboard hat that says “Lordy, Lordy, look who’s 40.”

“Yes, ma’am, we understand,” one of Bill’s friends is saying. “Thing is, we’re in the middle of a birthday party, and if one of us leaves now to take him home, we don’t have enough cars for everyone else. Give us a second to figure it out.”

He lifts a finger and turns to consult with his companions. The bartender watches them skeptically, pursing her lips in disapproval as she goes to tend to another customer.

Mulder takes the opportunity to discreetly trot up to Scully’s brother and sit on the stool next to him. “Hey Bill,” he says quietly, speaking to the man’s back.

Bill moans a little, lifting his head up from the bar to peek at Mulder through one eye.

“You know, I could drive you home,” offers Mulder, leaning over to be heard. Bill doesn’t answer.

Mulder leans his head to the side and clears his throat to attract the attention of Bill’s companions. “Hey, uh, I’m happy to drive Bill home. I know him, and I’m entirely sober. My car is here. It’s not a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” One of Bill’s friends, an early 40s black man a little taller and wider than Mulder, looks interested in this option. “Isn’t this the guy you were talking to before, Scully? He a friend of yours?”

“No,” Bill answers with sudden conviction. He sits up and swivels to speak to his friend. “Not a friend. A son of a bitch. The guy who ruined my sister’s life, Hal.”

Bill’s friends look at one another uneasily, as though not sure what to say in response.

“Listen, I don’t know, man,” Hal says to Mulder, scowling. “We don’t know you.”

“I’m his sister’s partner,” Mulder says apologetically. “At work. At the F.B.I.. Here.” He stands up and reaches into his pocket to pull out his badge, flashing it to Hal. “He doesn’t like me very much, but I promise—I’m a friend of the family, I can get him home safely. Are you staying at your mom’s, Bill?”

“Yeah,” Bill says, his voice muffled by the bar.

“I can take him to Maggie’s,” Mulder says. “I know where it is.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay for a cab or anything then,” a shorter man points out to Bill encouragingly, clearly hopeful about this solution to the problem. “You should go with him, Scully.”

“See, normally Bill doesn’t drink so much,” Hal explains to Mulder, his eyebrows knitting together. “We didn’t realize… we would’ve made him slow down. There’s something on his mind tonight, something with his wife. We didn’t plan for something like this.”

“Shut up, Hal,” Bill mutters face down into the bar.

The bartender has reappeared. Hands on her hips, she fixes Mulder with a significant look. “If you’re going to be the one to drive him, you better get going,” she says. “He already got sick in the back hall. He’s too intoxicated to stay.”

“All right, sure,” Mulder agrees, trying to sound cheerful, although he is suddenly filled with dread that Bill might get sick in his car, too. He looks down at the hulking figure leaned over the bar and is amazed for a moment that this is his life, his Friday night plans.

The Fox Mulder of ten years ago would have unquestionably been headed to Diana’s to have his brains fucked out.

He rests his hand lightly on Bill’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”

“That might work on your dates, asshole,” Bill says, slurring again, “but I’m not that kind of girl.”

Mulder chuckles, trying to put his arm under Bill’s so he can lift him to his feet. “That’s funny, Bill. I didn’t know you were funny.”

It’s an awkward lift, because Bill is such a tall man, but Mulder manages to get him off the barstool, with some hesitant assistance from Hal. Bill’s other friends watch with relieved expressions.

“Where’d she go, anyway?” Bill says, finally stumbling to his feet and squinting to see behind Mulder. “Your date?”

“She left,” Mulder says simply. He pats Bill’s arm playfully. “You’re my date now, big guy.”

“Don’t touch me again, you son of a bitch,” Bill growls fiercely, spinning unsteadily towards Mulder.

“Okay, okay,” Mulder says, backing away. “Then you’re going to have to walk by yourself to the car. You got it?”

Bill glowers at him, but manages to follow him out of the bar with only occasional stumbles.

***

Old Town Alexandria is brightly lit, festive, thrumming with groups of people milling around on a Friday night. When they arrive at Mulder’s car, Bill discovers that the seat is adjusted for a different Scully.

He tries to shoehorn his long legs into the car, cursing colorfully under his breath. Mulder watches this unwieldy process while gritting his teeth from the driver’s seat. It would probably make him laugh under other circumstances.

Mulder gets out, jogs around to the other side, and hesitantly bends down to show Bill how to adjust the seat with the lever. He then tries to demonstrate in clumsy charades where exactly the seat belt buckle fastens.

Eventually he has to precariously lean his body over Bill’s lap to fasten it himself, wondering if awkward moments with Scully’s brother will just continue to keep one-upping themselves. Bill sits sullenly there as Mulder clicks the seatbelt in place, his arms folded over his chest.

Mulder guesses he’s not going to get a thank you card any time soon.

Now Bill sits facing the front window in sour silence as they drive through Alexandria. Mulder is having a hard time distinguishing between what is a sulky expression and what is a warning sign of impending nausea.

“You feeling all right?” Mulder says.

“Shut up,” Bill replies gruffly.

“Need to pull over or anything?”

“I said shut up.”

“It’ll take us about 35 minutes to get to your mom’s house,” offers Mulder. “Do you want to—”

“No.” Bill’s tone changes abruptly. He turns to Mulder urgently. “Not my mom’s.”

“I thought that’s where you were staying.”

“‘I’m too drunk,” he says adamantly. “I can’t go back and see Mom and Tara and Matty. I don’t want them to see me like this. Don’t go there.”

“But won’t they … worry?”

“Take me to Dana’s,” Bill says. “Please. Dana will know how to handle it.”

Mulder’s eyebrows raise uncertainly. “Maybe we should call her first.”

“Nah. Just drive there,” Bill says. “Dana owes me. I helped her sometimes when she was drunk … when she was younger.”

Mulder nods slowly, filing away that fascinating tidbit for later.

“Okay, sure,” Mulder says, keeping his tone friendly. “That’s closer, anyway. We can be at Scully’s in less than twenty minutes.”

Bill grunts in some way that seems to indicate approval. He leans his head back against the seat rest and goes quiet again. Gradually his whole frame begins to tilt towards the passenger window, and Mulder assumes he’s probably fallen asleep.

That’s for the best, really. Much less uncomfortable. Mulder mulls over the idea of turning on the radio. Or better, maybe fishing out his phone and giving Scully some warning they’re coming.

“Didn’t you go … to Harvard or something?” Bill’s gravelly voice speaks up suddenly, startling Mulder.

Mulder eyes the side of Bill’s neck warily. “No.”

“Yeah, you did.” Bill rolls his limp head around to look at him. His blue eyes are bloodshot. “Dana’d brag about your fancy education. Back when she first got the job.”

Mulder swallows a smile. “Did she?” He’s delighted to imagine her talking about him like that, especially early in their partnership, when she always seemed so unimpressed.

“You have some … degree for shrinks. Harvard, right?”

“Oxford, actually. Psychology.”

“Whatever.” Bill lifts a shoulder apathetically. “The point is, you know about relationships.”

“About relationships?” Mulder repeats doubtfully.

“You’d know what to say.”

“What to say…?”

“You know,” Bill says impatiently. “When you’ve said the wrong thing.”

He crosses his arms again petulantly. For a few moments after this cryptic statement Mulder thinks he has given up talking, but then he continues.

“Tara told me she wanted to go back to work,” Bill says. “You know, her guidance counselor job. She’s a high school guidance counselor.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says cautiously, confused by the turn in conversation.

“It’s good? Who says it’s good to go back to work?” Bill asks, his voice rising in irritation.

Mulder doesn’t answer, feeling out of his depth.

“Matty isn’t that old. Really still a baby. I’m gone all the time.” Bill appears to be arguing with the front windshield now. “Mom never worked. She was always there.”

Mulder doesn’t know how to respond to that. It sounds classically, villainously sexist to him, but he doesn’t want to anger Bill again.

“But I don’t think I … said things too well when she told me,” Bill says, in a different tone of voice. “I didn’t say the right things.” He shakes his head slowly, some more somber emotion breaking over him like a wave. “I said … the wrong things.”

Mulder nods, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he drives.

“We had a fight,” Bill says to the windshield, and it seems to Mulder he’s now entirely forgotten who he’s actually talking to. “A big fight. This morning at my mom’s. And when I went out with the guys from the Academy tonight, I just …” He drifts off.

“Got drunk as a skunk?” suggests Mulder quietly.

“Yeah. I guess,” says Bill gruffly. He closes his eyes and releases a long breath. “So how do I fix it?”

There’s a pause as it sinks in precisely what Bill is asking.

Mulder clears his throat and tries to keep it light. “Bill, seriously, I’m the last guy on the planet who should be giving anyone marital advice.”

“I acted like a dick, I know I did,” Bill continues dully. “The job … is important to her. She misses going to work every morning and all that. Makes her happy. I acted like … some caveman. Like I was my dad. I just don’t know how to… how do I talk to her about it now?”

He brushes his knuckles over his eyes. Mulder isn’t sure if he is prepared to handle Bill Scully, Jr. actually crying in his car, but he feels an involuntary pang of sympathy.

“Well,” Mulder says, choosing his words carefully, “I’d say you should probably be completely honest. Tell her what you just told me. That you know you acted like a dick but you regret it. That you know how important the job is to her. And then … you know, try to listen to what she tells you. Really listen. Be willing to, uh, compromise.”

Bill turns to look at him, still aggressively rubbing his eyes, which seem wet. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “You think that’ll work?”

“Sure,” Mulder says, shrugging a shoulder. He’s not one to know a lot about success in relationships firsthand, but it seems like straightforward, foolproof enough advice to him.

“Hm.” Bill sniffs, quickly rubs his nose. Then he seems to relax and let his eyes fall close.

He is unsettlingly quiet for a few moments. Mulder sneaks a curious glance over at him, again wondering if he’s fallen asleep.

“Why do you do it? To Dana?” Bill mumbles, his eyes still closed. “I know you’re an asshole, but I kind of think you love her.”

Mulder stares numbly at the road and doesn’t respond right away. When he does, he finds that the truth unexpectedly slips out. “I do love her.”

“You have a fucked up way of showing it,” Bill murmurs.

“Scully and I are partners,” Mulder says by rote. “We’re not involved.”

Bill opens his eyes and gives him a look. “Both of you say that a lot.”

“It’s true.”

“My sister loves you so much that she’d do fucking anything for you, and you don’t even …” He drifts off, and he snorts. “I guess it’s not my business.”

Mulder wants to respond in all sorts of ways, like “Scully doesn’t do things because she loves me,” or “Scully is her own person and makes her own choices” or “You’re right, it’s not your business.” But it’s like his annoying-ass voice has finally run out of words to say.

“You know what? I’m gonna try what you said with Tara,” Bill whispers sleepily. “I really am.” His eyes droop exactly like his sister’s do when she’s tired. “I’m actually gonna do it. I love her, man. You do anything when you love her.” He closes his eyes for the remainder of the car ride.

***

When they arrive at Scully’s, it’s not that late, only about 10 o’clock, and Mulder has definitely banged on her door at worse hours and for worse reasons.

Yet he feels oddly anxious about this situation, like he’s the one who has done something he has to delicately explain.

He taps his finger against his hip in rapid rhythm as they wait for the door, her brother propped up against him like a giant sandbag. Bill’s alcohol must be soaking in cumulatively, because he seems to have become progressively more wasted, not less.

“Mulder?” comes Scully’s puzzled voice through the door. He doesn’t know exactly how much she can see through her peephole. Bill is slumping heavily on him now, though, and Mulder is buckling under the weight. He’s eager for Scully to let them in quickly.

“Scully,” he says in a strained voice through the door, “I’ve got a special delivery for you.”

They hear the metallic clicking of Scully’s various latches unlocking. Mulder gives Bill a reassuring pat and hoists his arm up higher on his shoulder.

“Bill?” gasps Scully. She is wearing some silvery silk pajamas, which is typical interrupted evening wear for her, but still always manages to give Mulder a little inappropriate thrill. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Dana,” Bill manages to mutter. He stumbles off of Mulder’s shoulder into her apartment. “How ya doin’, sis.”

“Is he … drunk?” Scully asks Mulder, stunned.

“In a manner comparable to a skunk,” Mulder confirms. “I ran into him in Alexandria. He was getting into some trouble, but it’s all worked out now, isn’t it, Bill?”

“Imma sit down,” announces Bill, sinking down on her sofa somewhere inside.

Her eyes wide, Scully runs her hand over her mouth in consternation, as if unsure whether to laugh or cry. “Come in, Mulder.” She turns back to her brother. “Do Mom and Tara know where you are, Bill?”

Bill has sunk backward on the sofa, his head lolling, looking up at the ceiling. He vaguely groans.

“I don’t think they do,” Mulder tells her. “He asked me to bring him here because he didn’t want them to see him like this. He said you owed him.” Mulder gives her a curious look and leans forward to add: “Looking forward to that story.”

A perfect roll of her eyes. “One youthful transgression, and you’re apparently obligated for life.” She huffs and locks up her door, then spins back around to Bill. “All right, Party Boy, let’s get you settled in the guest room. I’ll call Mom and Tara.”

***

It takes both Mulder and Scully’s full effort to get Bill safely ready for bed. Mulder would never have dreamed one day he would be struggling to help Scully take off Bill Scully’s shoes, dragging him into the bedroom, tucking him into bed. But he finds himself actually fluffing the pillow, encouraging the man to lie down.

“Best thing you can possibly do is to sleep it off,” Mulder advises in the world-weary tone of a wise old frat boy.

Bill has grasped Scully’s hand, and he seems to be solemnly pumping it up and down. “Thank you, Dana,” Bill whispers scratchily. “You’re a good, good sister. You know that? A good sister.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, faintly amused. “You’re right—I’m a world class sister. Now put your head down on the pillow, Bill.”

But Bill twists to the side and grabs hold of Mulder’s shirt, pulling him down towards him.

“Listen,” Bill says, leaning heavily into Mulder’s face. “Listen, man, thank you. For the advice about Tara. That was all right.”

Helplessly, Mulder looks up at Scully. She has a hand on her hip, and her eyes widen in surprise. She can’t contain an amused smirk.

“No problem,” Mulder says, managing to gently extricate himself and lower Bill back to the bed. “I hope it works out.”

“Me, too,” Bill says, nodding. “And I’m sorry for yelling at you, for interrupting your date. You’re all right.” He pats Mulder’s arm gingerly. “You’re all right.”

“It’s fine,” Mulder says, feeling his ears going fiercely hot. “No worries.”

He looks up quickly at Scully. She doesn’t look amused any more. No more smirk. It’s as though her face has been shuttered and boarded up, like all expression of emotion has been put away.

Mulder feels a stone in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t wanna be rude or anything.” Bill’s voice is a barely understood mumble by now. “But I think I’m gonna sleep for a while.”

Mulder tries to catch her eye, but Scully just nods brittly and turns away.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #xf fanfic #diana fowley #bill scully #Diana angst #bill Scully angst #msr #my fic #honest man

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comfortless · 7 months ago

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how do you think König would react with an S/O who playfully fights/teases as a way to show affection? my love language is light bullying so idk if he'll be too receptive to that 😅

ohhh this is a fun/sad one, actually! 🥲 i think this would be torture for him, because i don’t see him as being someone who can take a joke well!

SO!

We are all aware König was bullied in his past. I personally see him as being somewhere on the spectrum, too.

He speaks his mind, and expects the same of you whether he voices that need or not. The people he was surrounded by as a child play a huge part in this. There was never any “playful” bullying when it came to his father, any change in tone or insult ignited a fight or flight instinct for König because of this. The children at school were even worse. His father was always easy enough to read as he had no choice but to be around him.

The fake love confessions, the mocking compliments, and the unprompted aggression were another thing altogether. If a girl called him “hot” growing up, she always seemed to be lying, laughing with her friends the second he became hopeful. If another student wanted to “be friends” it more often than not ended with poor König either showing up and sitting through a movie entirely alone or doing their homework for them with nothing in return.

König never properly mastered people, they’re all different shades of confusing. He never had the proper upbringing or chances to read them properly at all, and though he’s grown more comfortable in his own skin now, these things do still haunt him to an extent.

He would love a play fight, adores the feeling of getting to pin you and feel that flood of power. You’re smaller and weaker than him, most people are, but he doesn’t get to exert that energy anywhere else than on the field. It’s certainly not as fun when his opponent winds up dead and there’s no romantic aspect to it at all. You’re such a cute, fragile little thing in his eyes, he’s overly gentle but doesn’t hesitate in the slightest to engage. Physical touch is his love language, and the promise of getting to rough you up in other ways afterward is just a bonus!

But… say you’re playfully insulting him. Call him “ugly” or hurl any other insult at his body, and he just sort of shuts down. He’ll give you the blankest stare, avoid touching you, and likely storm off until he’s had time to calm himself down. A part of him recognizes that you don’t mean it, but the internal wounds speak much louder.

He would assume the worst, that all of this time you’ve just been pitying him and you’re only now speaking true. You’re not attracted to him, and he was an idiot for ever believing that you might be. This guy had tried and failed countless times to find himself with a pretty thing that he can love, and never would he say anything like that to you. It’s always an abundance of praise and an eternal stare. His eyes and hands never leave you. So, that stings.

Once he calms down… some, he would return with the same hurt painted across his face, ask you why through gritted teeth. Just, “Why?” Depending on if it’s something that can be fixed, maybe he’ll offer to do it for you. Make himself prettier, better built, anything so that you don’t leave him for a man you deem more worthy. He knows he sounds small and pathetic, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to lose you. It pisses him off knowing that he’s already done the work, too, only for the end result to be the same as the things he’s already endured.

He wouldn’t be entirely convinced that it was just a joke, but he isn’t the type to come sobbing to you for reassurance, either. The next few hours are filled with condescending little comments. “You like fucking ugly men, schatz?” or “Do you always get wet like this when you’re sorry?”

#kö headcanons

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mixvyu · 1 year ago

Text

Parfum d’étoile - episode three

scaramouche x reader smau

previous | masterlist | next

★—

Fast forward saturday :

You ran to the library, checking your phone every five seconds hoping that time would magically go backward and that you wouldn’t be late anymore (it sadly did not happen)

You rushed into the building and frantically looked around for the table that kazuha said he’d be waiting at. And when you spotted said table you were horrified to see that all four boys were seated with their laptops and notebooks open which mean that you would be the last one to arrive and would draw unnecessary attention.

The worst thing ever would be to have them annoyed at you and the thought of people not liking you made you sick.

You decided that eyeing the table from afar and overthinking would not result into anything good so you ended up swallowing your concerns and walking up to them .

"Hey! I’m sorry I’m a bit late"

"A bit?" Scaramouche scoffed and kazuha elbowed him in response "it’s okay we were just brainstorming ideas" the white and scarlet haired boy said with a smile

All the two other guys did was nod in response.

As if arriving late and making them have a bad impression of you wasn’t enough, the only available seat was next to Scaramouche.

You sat down reluctantly and opened your computer and notebook.

"Since there’s five chapters we should probably juste five different parts and every one get one. It’d be easier to work like that" Albedo said, not lifting his eyes from his macbook screen even once.

"Yeah but then that wouldn’t be a group project would it ? If everyone does their own thing without consulting the others then it’s more of a solo project" Heizou said, looking at the blonde who was still typing away.

You could see Scaramouche and Kazuha beside you, nodding along to the conversation while on their phone chatting with each other. If you got a little closer you could almost make up what their were typing

But the thought of them maybe discussing you for one reason or another had you freezing on the spot.

Kazuha suddenly shut his phone down and looked up

"Maybe we can divide ourselves into small groups, so it’d still be a group project but it would also be easier to manage!" He said enthusiastically. Scaramouche let out a groan at his friend’s words but Kazuha ignored him and continued "we could have two groups of two and albedo can work alone if he wants"

"Sound good to me" Albedo said as he looked up from his laptop for the first time in minutes

"So me and you and heizou and Y/N?" Scaramouche asked, eyes sparkly at the fact that he did not have to do this with other people

"Uh maybe you should work with Y/N and i’ll work with Heizou instead"

"What…? Why would i want to work with…" he gave you a dirty look before finishing his sentence "…that?"

You clutched onto your notebook at his words

"Kuni don’t be a dick"

"What? I’m just being honest she isn’t even-"

You got up violently before he could finish his sentence : you didn’t want to hear it. At all.

The guys in your group flinched and stared at you in shock and surprise and so did some people close to your table.

"Sorry it’s getting late, i need to go home i have homework for monday. See you around!"

"What was the point of coming in the first place" the purple haired guy added, still eyeing you up and down

You gathered your things quickly but, before you could walk out, you felt a warm hand softly grabbing your wrist

"Wait let me walk you home" the poet said with a soft smile and pity in his eyes

★—

"I’m really sorry about him. He doesn’t mean to be that condescending he’s just really stupid"

You snorted "Yeah. Yeah… I just… I don’t know why he hates me"

"He doesn’t hate you!" Kazuha answered almost immediately "He doesn’t hate you." He said again, with a calmer tone this time.

You finally looked up from the ground and gave kazuha a small smile

A comfortable silence installed itself for a few minutes before kazuha broke it once again

"You don’t really have to go home, do you?"

"No, i just wanted out"

"So since we both have free time, do you want to go grab a cup of coffee? There’s this really nice french café called Le club close-by : they have the best pastries ever, you have to try them"

"Yeah! That’d be a pleasure!"

★—

Extras!

The guys actually didn’t care about Y/N arriving late at all she jst overthinks a lot (she’s jst like me fr)

Kazuha is so boyfriend i need to make another smau abt him

The café is actually a real french café that’s not far from my school, it’s soooo good but also super expensive, it’s like 3.50€ for a muffin wtf

★彡 Taglist! [open] :

@gekkow @aemiko @veekoko @kichiyoshi @scaramouchelover4ever @sukunasrealgf @lxkeeeee @kunisblog @yukiipc @brfrtbrt @simpforsubmissivemen @featuredtofu

#scaramouche #genshin #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fanfic #genshin x reader #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer #wanderer x reader #genshin smau #wanderer smau #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi smau #★彡 parfum d’étoile

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megan0013 · 11 days ago

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Number 12. “I spent so long in the darkness I’d almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is.”

For the Halloween prompt thing, Stricklake. (thought it's exactly the soppy thing Strickler would say).

The wedding is off.

Probably.

At least, Barbara sure hopes it is after she’d managed to bungle her vows oh-so-spectacularly that Pastor Vendel had declared her resistant to marrying and sent her away from her own wedding rehearsal. Which is fine with her. She absolutely does not want to marry a rude, condescending man like Lord Lake anyway. Who cares about his money and his land and his title?

Well, okay, fine. A lot of people do.

Including her overly nouveau riche parents, who are obviously more concerned with climbing society ladders than the happiness of their own daughter. Just because they chose to marry for position and not for love doesn’t mean she should have to, too.

“I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life with a man I do not love,” Barbara declares softly, fingertips ghosting along rough capstones as she crosses over the bridge leading out of town. “And I do not love James Lake, nor will I ever.”

The wind seems to sigh in agreement, sending fallen leaves sweeping up off the misty road to dance around the hem of her skirt before skipping ahead down the path.

Absently, she follows them along the long and winding road.

“He may be charming and handsome,” she continues as her path veers off to the right, away from town, “and he may have everyone else fooled, but I know in my heart Lord Lake is not a good man. I have seen the places he frequents. I know he is a cheat, a swindler. And not even a very good one if the rumors surrounding his gambling losses are to be believed.”

The road narrows under the thick canopy of trees.

“I fear he will drive us into the poorhouse if left unchecked.”

A crow caws ominously as she passes.

“That is if his visits to those other types of houses do not put us there first.”

Something howls in the distance as the buzzing of cicadas grows louder.

“At least I know of my fiancée’s poor character. The new Mrs Palchuk only learned of her husband’s vices after they were already wed. The awful things I have heard him say to her... Well, it’s no wonder she has changed so much these past few months.”

Her fingers curl into fists at her side.

“He is a monster. And I will not tolerate the same treatment from my own husband.”

A sudden gust of wind sends the dead leaves swirling into the air.

“Oh! If there was only something I could do to stop this wedding once and for all! I would do anything!”

She stomps her foot.

“Anything!”

The leaves drop like stones and all the insects go deathly silent as the world around Barbara comes to an abrupt stop. It’s enough to shock her back into awareness, and she heaves in a great breath upon realizing just how far off the road she’s wandered.

Everything is eerily still for a moment and then:

Bang!

The sound is immediately followed by the crack of a tree splintering in half and Barbara whirls around, her eyes wide with terror, just in time to watch as a creature – tall and jade and made of stone, with horns and fangs and bright yellow eyes – emerges from its depths.

She chokes on a scream.

“It sounds to me like you need not a husband,” a grin stretches clear across its face, “but a murderer most foul.”

#stricklake #meg answers (a year later)#obv inspired by the corpse bride #HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

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fandomwritingbit · 1 year ago

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How about Drunk William being a little too loud while yelling at his tv that AFAB!reader (neighbor) asks him to tone the noise down but instead he convinces her to come inside for drinks but ends up in a sticky situation.

My guy, I read this request at 4 in the morning and physically vibrated with excitement. This is so good, thank you!

I changed it a little- but I hope this is the ticket!

Drunk William x afab reader - Bad Neighbours

Arguing and smut below the cut xx

From directly above you the sound of metal scraping against the floor again woke you up. It sounded like the person in the flat above you was rearranging their whole set up, a drag and then a thump, shortly followed by glass clinking; it’s maddening.

What the fuck is that noise? Your brain finally snaps, for God’s sake, it’s so late, well past the half eleven noise curfew and you’ve got work in the morning. It’d be another thing entirely if the sound happened once or twice but it had been on and off for hours, pulling you in and out of sleep in the most brutal way.

Sitting up in bed, you rub your eyes to better see your phone screen, which stung your eyes in the pitch black of your bedroom. 03:12. You exhale from your nose, more than pissed off.

Tired induced anger motivated you to put a jacket on over your sleep shorts and vest, grab your keys and stomp out of your flat. Only recalling the need to be courteous when you see the night sky out the windows. You don’t bother with the lift, b-lining for the stairs and following them up to the next floor in your building, eager to give the person who lived above you a piece of your mind. You have no idea who lives there, your knowledge limited to your floor, and even then you didn’t know your neighbours that well.

You make it up the stairs quickly and head to the door with the same letter as you, the one directly overhead. There you knock on the door, firmly but not too loud out of respect for neighbours - if any of them could feasibly sleep with that racket going on. And from inside you can hear the rustling of someone standing up and walking over to the door, so you steel yourself waiting for confrontation. Keys jangle and thud against the door as the inhabitant clearly missed the lock, making you sigh, great, a pisshead.

Finally your neighbour manages to unlock their door and it swings open revealing perhaps the tallest man you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have to tilt your head to find his eyes, he squinted with the harsh light of the hallway before fixing you with a bemused stare. He’s so attractive that you briefly forget what you came here for.

“You alright, love?” the man asks a little slurred, eyebrows raised as he waits for you to say something. Seriously, who knocks on someone’s door and doesn’t say anything?

You blink, remembering you’re angry, scoffing a laugh, “Not really, mate. I mean, come on. Some of us have work in the morning, what the hell are you doing in there?” You speak too quickly for him and it takes a second for your interrogation to register.

“Dropped a glass.” he shrugs, before flashing you a stunning grin. “Though I’d have been more careful if I knew it would wake a cute thing like you.”

You’re taken aback and just laugh a little. “Yeah, sure. Look that noise wasn’t just a glass, whatever fucking DIY you’re doing, save it for normal hours, yeah?”

He sniggers at your tone, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, sorry, sweetheart. I’ll stop.” He held up his hands, swaying slightly at the change of posture that his drunk mind wasn’t ready for. “Honestly, you always so tightly wound?

His condescending question might as well have struck a match because you move closer to the door, trying not to raise your voice, “Listen, mate, I didn’t come here for an argument- just to ask you nicely to pack it in-”

“Well, I’m sure you can be nicer than that, sweetheart.” Somewhat understandably, he didn’t flinch from your form, instead just meeting it, hand on the doorframe for support. His eyes looked you up and down for a moment before he continued, “But it’s alright, you’re clearly upset. Why don’t you come in… I’ve got some class whiskey.”

In little more than 5 minutes you have so many questions for yourself and most of them begin with why. Why did you say yes and come into this man’s flat? How did you think this could possibly be a good idea? Why did you let him press you against the front door? Why is your tongue in his mouth? Why aren’t you going to stop?

The answer to the majority of these is probably ‘because this fella is hot, like really hot.’

His frame practically consumes you pressed up against this door, his touch clumsy and down to the point dirty, large hands squeezing your arse. You grunt some kind of approval, grinding your hips against this stranger’s crotch, feeling the prominent and hard bulge that you just couldn’t wait to quite literally get your hands on. Almost grinning when you realise that the only taste of that ‘class whiskey’ you were going to get, being the taste of it on his tongue, and it could be arousal talking but he was right, it was fucking delicious.

Almost before you can register it, you’re pulling this man’s shirt up to gain access to his waistband and letting him suck inelegant kisses on your neck. Much too eagerly pulling down his trousers and boxers and grabbing the hardness no longer concealed. You still can’t quite believe this is happening and you just stroke his stiffness utterly mesmerised, hearing him grunt against your skin, whilst his hands pull down the straps of your vest enough to free your tits. Feeling brave, you tilt your hips up, now rubbing his cock with the tip resting against your core, the feeling somehow making you wetter than you already are.

He pulls your shorts to the side to reveal your glistening pussy for him, then two fingers slide between your legs, collecting your slick before giving your clit some much needed attention. Even nearly mortal, as this bloke clearly was, he still knew exactly what he was doing, his thumb putting delicious pressure on your bundle of nerves and fingers diving between your folds and pushing intoxicatingly inside you.

“Fuck…” You moan, your breath almost ragged as his movements tighten the coil inside you. There was really no finesse to it at all, your hips rolling against his fingers bordering on embarrassing, and no doubt that shame would catch up with you tomorrow. But right now, you just want to cum so bad.

You’re letting him fuck his fingers in and out of you, trying to stroke his cock while rutting against him, the amount of stimulus too much for this time of the morning, especially when confronted with this guy who knew all the buttons to push to have you a gooey sticky mess. You’re almost at the top of your climb, pulling him towards you by his arm, looking at him with your lip between your teeth in a hope that he knows what you're thinking, his fingers shoving you closer by the second. And just- just as you’re there, the screaming taste of climax coating your tongue, he pulls out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing.

You groan in disappointment, shoving your hips forward to silently demand that you want more. Taking his cock, you notch it against your entrance, the precum leaking from him sticking to your overflowing pussy, which his drunk brain just can’t cope with. And he’s pulling one of your legs up, draping it over his waist to let his body that bit closer to you so he can press his dick inside you. Clearly tiredness had blinded you to his size because, to say the least, it’s a surprise. You claw at him in pleasure tinted shock, by the time he’s fully sheathed your climax begins to resurface, spurred on by that fucking delicious stretch.

He grunts when he hits the hilt, your little pussy tight and fluttering around him, and it could be the drink, or the unexpected encounter but he knows he won’t last long with a grip like that. You have no doubt that if someone was on the other side of this door they’d hear the sloppy sound of your cunt taking him in, louder as he became more greedy with how he was fucking you. He’s going so hard it’s almost like he’s forgotten you’re there, and you’re right on your peak, leg and hands wrapped tight around this stranger. Falling apart when he shoves his hand on your clit, instantly making your hips buck forwards as those familiar blinding waves took you over.

He groans with the vice-like fluttering of your walls, reaching the ‘fuck it’ point of reasoning when he just chased his own creeping end. Thrusting into you through your climax before pulling out of your twitching pussy to spread his release on your lower stomach.

He laughs, when he’s finished painting you, pulling away to fix himself as you do the same, the reality of it becoming apparent when your shorts cling to the stickiness coating all of your lower half. What a fucking mess.

You don’t exchange another word with this man, the second you’re righted you open his front door and slip out of it, careful to not let it bang behind you. You stand blinking in the bright light for a moment, dazzled by it after the darkness of his flat, or at least the small part of it you saw. Sighing, you take a step forward, a little unsteady on your feet, and then you hear it again.

That god forsaken, stupid-arse, motherfucking sound of metallic scraping screeching through the whole building. You turn back to the man’s apartment, fury seeping through your veins, before you realise… The sound isn’t coming from behind you but rather to your right.

And disbelief floods over you- you got the wrong fucking flat.

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton

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