#learns the truth about what she has done for him. And he goes to be with her!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gghostwriter · 1 year ago

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You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't (or as I'd like to better explain it, the three times Spencer fails to flirt and the one time it worked)

Warning: fluff! Just fluff!

A/n: I wanted to write something cute this time with Season 1 Spencer in mind--one of the best eras if you ask me. Hopefully I did him justice in this. The idea of this cute baby boy trying to flirt is too precious honestly. Also, if a guy did the last act for me, I'd fold like a lawn chair, yep. Risk by Gracie Abrams was on repeat while I was writing this and no proof reading was done. Let me know what you think!

Main masterlist

The first move Spencer tried was advised by Derek Morgan, the renowned ladies man

“Kid, admit it. You like her,” Morgan pestered him with a slight smile on his face.

Spencer scoffed, trying to throw him off from the truth but monumentally failing. “S-she’s my closest friend. We joined the team at the same time, of course I feel most comfortable with her,” he noted his companion’s eyebrows raising higher and higher with each word. “Plus, she likes hearing what I say even if it has no relation to the case. She asks me questions and genuinely remembers.”

Now it was Morgan’s turn to scoff. “You could be talking about Star Trek and it’s physics mistakes and she’ll still hang on to every word you say.”

“Actually, there aren’t that many scientific errors in Star Trek. Especially considering—”

“Reid.”

“Right,” he nodded once, trying to push away the urge to continue further. “That still doesn’t mean I like her.”

Morgan tapped the wheel twice before turning to face his partner. “Then answer me this. How do you feel when she walks through the office doors?”

“Happy, I get the same feeling when I see you or Elle come in too,” he found his fingers very interesting then. Like they held the key to unlocking the mysteries of Dark Matter and the answer to the controversial scientific theory ‘Do parallel universe exist?’. He wasn’t telling the whole truth—didn’t want to because how could he, a man of science, explain the other bodily reactions he has when you walk in a room. How he hears his heart stutter in his chest with just a glimpse of you—the first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, but by the third, he considered making an appointment with a specialist for possible heart arrhythmia. How he sees the room brighten when you smile in his direction—perhaps light sensitivity, and how he feels his body heat up when you utter the words ‘Good morning, Spence.’—possibly hot flashes. Self diagnosis that he ruled out once he found you to be the common denominator. That left him with a riddle, a personal conundrum he lost countless of sleep over trying to solve.

“That’s a lie, Reid. You can’t be that happy to see me. You never blush like a tomato when I enter the room. For Greenaway, I could see it but for me, nu-uh,” he argued back. “Okay, what about when she’s not there, what do you feel then?”

“Sad, similar to how I’d react with you and Elle,” he blurted out another half truth. Another surface level answer that doesn’t fully cover how lost he feels without your comforting presence beside him, how gloomy any room he enters in without you in it, and how incomplete his days were without hearing your voice.

Morgan snickered. “Lies, you have to learn how to lie better to fool an FBI profiler, Reid. You don’t think I—the team, notice that you’re quieter when she isn’t on the case with us?”

“Wait. Wait, the whole team?” His voice goes up an octave. You were part of the team, did that mean you knew of the effect you had on him too? “D-Does everyone have the same idea as you do? Everyone?”

“Not everyone, kid. Your secret is still safe,” He smiled wide like a cat that caught the canary. “So it’s true then, you like her.”

Spencer knew there was no escape from trap, he was just glad that his secret still remained classified from the other party involved. His shoulders sagged as he nodded to confirm Morgan’s findings.

“So what’s your play then?”

His head whipped to face his companion so fast he felt his meticulously styled hair escape the confines of his ears. “Play? There’s no play. Nothing. I’m not going to do anything and this conversation stays between us.”

“Oh c’mon lover boy, you have to do something,” Morgan challenged. “Y’know she likes you back, right?”

“No she doesn’t! I mean, why would she?” Spencer rambled on, unable to comprehend what Morgan was saying. “She’s her—beautiful, smart, and cool. Every case we get, there’s at least one police officer hitting on her. And I’m me—I talk too much and get awkward in every situation. The exact opposite!”

“Reid, don’t sell yourself short. She likes you, trust me on this.” He paused, listening to the update on the intercom before continuing on. “So here’s what you’re going to do. Compliment her outfit, girls appreciate that. Easy enough, don’t you think?”

Spencer really didn’t think so after all he had the tendency to go off on a tangent whenever he talks to you but he agrees nonetheless. If Morgan believes he could do it then he couldn’t mess it up, right?

———

Wrong. It was wrong to take Morgan’s advice. Never mind he can recall everything he has ever read, never mind he has an IQ of 187. What good were his talents if he, Dr. Spencer Reid, couldn’t string the proper sentences along?

It started when you walked into the office wearing this light yellow blouse that made you more radiant than he thought possible. It was as if the a ray of sun had graced the bullpen and stunned his mind into silence, rendering him tongue-tied. All his monologues and hypothesis bouncing around his overactive brain fell away and the only thing he could think of was how pretty you look.

Morgan cleared his throat, bringing him back to the living. Spencer averted his awestruck gaze and busied himself with an imaginary lint on his red sweater.

“Hey Y/N, did anything good this weekend?” Morgan asked as you settled into your desk adjacent to his.

You shrugged nonchalantly and teased back. “I bet it wasn’t good as yours, Morgan. Picked anyone up last Friday or are your charms no longer working?”

“Huh, i see where this is going. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of bed today.”

Morgan chanced a peek at Spencer and internally groaned. How you didn’t notice the kid’s crush on you was beyond him—all the staring and blushing he does when you’re near was a dead giveaway.

“Reid. Reid,” Morgan called out.

He closed his mouth and gulped. “Hm, what?”

Morgan pointedly stared at him and titled his head towards your direction. A movement lost to you as you noted Elle leaving Gideon’s office.

Spencer opened his mouth to catch your attention but before he could even utter your name, Elle intervened. “Question for you, the foot path killer. Why’d he stutter?”

You swiveled to face her, not having caught Spencer’s intent to speak to you. The unit chief then called them in for a case—an arson case in a university campus. His shoulders drooped as they rushed to the jet afterwards with no chance of small talk.

When there was a lull in the plane—case discussion finished, he steeled his already apprehensive nerves and took the chance, quickly wishing he hadn’t.

“S-so, your shirt’s yellow,” he stated out loud like it was some sort of revelation.

“Yes,” you drawled out, unsure as to where he was going with this. “That’s right, Spencer.”

He drummed his fingers on the table and continued on. “Did you know that airplanes tend to avoid the color yellow as it causes dizziness and nausea? A number of studies have shown those exact results and that’s why it’s almost never used in interiors of various forms of transportation and rarely use in advertising. It’s like how the red is the most common color used by restaurants as it psychologically makes the viewer hungry.”

You looked down on your top. Yellow was one of your favorites and you specifically chose this as Penelope said and you quote, it looks good on you, brings out your eyes. Boy genius would probably react to it too so naively you splurged on it. But this—this wasn’t the response you were hoping for. “Spence, are you saying my shirt is making you feel nauseous?”

He blushed and stammered out a strong refusal. “What, no! No! I—I meant to say—you, you look nice.”

You giggled under your breath, finding his long-winded route to giving you a compliment cute. “Nice nice or airsickness nice?”

“Nice! Just nice!” He defended on, his voice cracking at the end. He caught Morgan’s wide eyed gaze then as if he couldn’t believe what train wreck he just witnessed.

Cheeks heating up further, Spencer slouched in his seat and busied himself with the files wishing that he could build a memory eraser so he could wipe the events from his and the team’s minds or better yet, a time machine to redo the whole thing all over again.

The second move Spencer tried was advised by Elle Greenaway, the new recruit

“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” He questioned during one of their cases in San Diego. It bothered him since the start of the case. How Morgan had teased him about his incapability of asking out the opposite sex. Never mind that you defended him right back, that’s a lie, it made him feel special that you did but the joke was still true. A cold stone truth.

Elle laughed, flipping her phone repeatedly on the table while waiting for the unsub to take the bait. “I don’t know how you know half the stuff you know, but I’m glad you do.”

“Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date?” He asked as he fiddled with the unfinished Rubik’s cube in his hands.

“Have you ever asked her out?”

There was no need to ask who Elle was referring to, everyone knew of his innocent—well maybe not so innocent at times specifically during his state of dreaming—crush for the second youngest member of the team. He shifted his eyes to focus a few tables before his—at you, sitting beside JJ. “No."

“That’s why you can’t get a date.”

One of the precincts phone then rang, it was the unsub, causing him to table that conversation in his vast memory.

———

There’s an English saying that states ‘the second time is the charm’ and Spencer was hoping there were some truth to the idiom even with no scientific explanation to back it up.

A few cases after San Diego, he got an opening that he was unexpectedly looking for. The team was on their way back from a case in Virginia. It was late and the profilers were all tucked in their little corners of the jet decompressing while you and Spencer were huddled on the sofa quietly discussing Doctor Who.

“How could you say your favorite is the Ninth Doctor when you haven’t even seen the older episodes?” He rambled, clearly he would have to do something about your limited knowledge in the great universe of Doctor Who. He’d like to explain it all, 695 episodes of the classic era to you. He’d take any topic really just to have your interest.

You stared into his hazel speckled eyes and smiled, amused by his reaction. “It’s a bit hard to catch up on a show that’s been around since the 70s. Plus, it’s a challenge to look for copies.”

“Actually, the show started in the 60s—1963, to be exact,” he clarified. “Garcia has copies we could borrow and watch together. If that’s—” he cleared his throat and clenched his fists closed, feeling his nails dig into his palms. “—that’s alright with you. If—if not, there’s a convention happening this weekend. I have an extra ticket, if you want to come with—only if you’re not busy, I mean.”

“And risk you spoiling every episode to me? I’d rather watch it alone, if you don’t mind.”

That dragged his optimism to a crash as if a twenty ton weight landed on his chest, rendering him immovable. Of course you were going to say no. There was no proof that you’d reciprocate his interests—he inwardly cursed himself for believing otherwise.

“But, I’d like to go with you to the convention,” you said and silently added as your date to yourself, shifting in your seat with a blush blooming on your cheeks at the thought. “Always wanted to go to one. If you’re fine with me not being in a costume. I think it’ll be too late to find one, don’t you think?”

Just like that, the weight on his chest lifted, making him feel weightless with glee. A wide smile grew on his face, threatening to burst his cheeks as he shook his head. “That’s alright! But you—you can always dress up as Rose!”

You titled your head to the side. “Rose?”

“You know, the Ninth Doctor’s companion?”

“I know who she is, Spence. I just thought you didn’t watch the revived series?”

He softly scoffed. “I never said that! I watched it too, mainly to compare it to the classics but I’ve seen it.”

You leaned in, wanting to ask about his opinion on it. “Well, what do you think? I happen to be part of the minority who think the actor who reprised the role did alright.”

He liked seeing you like this. It made him feel like a puppy who had his owner’s undivided attention. All wide eyed and interested in his conjectures as to why the actor was alright himself but the problems were his short stint—making people vilify him over that decision—and the material some of the writers came up with. He appreciated you nodding along and supplying your own thoughts on the subject. It warmed his heart that here was a beautiful, smart, and cool person—way out of his league, he might add—giving her precious time away to discuss a nerdy sci-fi show that he could not rant and rave to about to anyone on the team, except for Penelope, and she’s rarely on the field with them.

Your show of interest made him feel seen. Not as an agent with 3 PHDs, not as a genius with 187 IQ, but rather as a person with a right to express himself and occupy space. He wasn’t Agent Spencer Reid with you nor Dr. Spencer Reid, he was just Spencer who likes to watch Doctor Who and read literature in their original language.

The third move Spencer did was proposed by Penelope Garcia, the spirited tech analyst

“What do you mean you took her to a convention? For a date?” Penelope squeaked out, unable to comprehend the logic behind the genius’ actions.

“She said she always wanted to go,” Spencer stated as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. He had fun over the weekend. Going around booths with you, listening to invited guest panels talk about the behind the scenes, explaining the reference every costume that you’ve pointed out, and just basking in your presence beyond cases. It was a memory he had replayed over and over after it had ended. It occupied his whole mind, and that’s saying a lot, causing him to do nothing and sit in his leather sofa and smile like a lunatic during the rest of the weekend.

“Well yeah, but that’s not date material! A date is supposed to be intimate—you and I go to conventions together, do you count that as a date?”

“What? No! No, of course not!”

“Exactly, boy wonder. Then what makes you think she’ll count that as a date?” She countered back as she entered her office with Spencer in tow.

Silence. Oh.

Penelope sighed, having read the despair painting his face. “Did you at least dress up as the Ninth Doctor?”

“What? No. No, I went as the Fourth Doctor. I even hand-knitted the scarf myself.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before repeating what she just heard. “You didn’t dress up as her Doctor?”

“No,” he paused, unsure where she was going with this. “Should I had?”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” Penelope slapped his arm out of frustration. “Why didn’t you call me once she said yes? We could have talked game plan or strategy or at least have gotten you a leather jacket to match her choice of companion.”

“Oh, I messed up then, didn’t I?” He slumped despondently on the office chair. “You—you don’t think she thought of it as a date at all?”

She played with her feathered pen, trying to find a way to salvage it for Spencer. “Did you take her out to dinner after?”

He shook his head, finally realizing his mistake.

“Oh Spencer,” she approached gently. “I can scoop for details with Y/N later on and report back to you?”

He shook his head. It didn’t feel right to have Penelope betray your trust and go behind your back over a mistake that he made. You were a honest person and you deserved to be treated with respect and reverence even though all he wanted now was peer into your viewpoint of the date—not date—and figure out once and for all if you saw him as anything beyond a co-worker and a friend.

“Hm, I think I might just a solution,” Penelope blurted out of the blue.

He looked up with a sliver of hope blooming in his chest. Maybe third time’s the charm. Besides, Penelope was the colleague you spent most of your time out with. You once mentioned that you considered her your best friend, besides from him of course.

“You can bake her a batch of cookies! No one can say no to that,” she excitedly explained, believing it to be full proof—except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to bake. He wants to ask you out on a date but not to the expense of burning his whole apartment building down.

“I can’t—I can’t bake, Garcia,” he squeaked out. “Did you know that 44% of all reported home fires are caused by cooking and baking. Those fires have resulted in an average of 470 civilian deaths and 4,150 civilian—”

She interrupted. “I’ll give you my recipe and detailed instructions to follow. That’ll make it easy peasy for you, boy genius.”

“C-can’t I just buy from her favorite bakery instead?”

“No can do, Doctor. Her favorite cookies just so happen to be my creation. She told me so herself.”

“Well, can’t I just ask you to make it for me? I’ll buy the ingredients!”

“Nope,” she dragged out her refusal. “Think of it as an act of service to her. Plus don’t you think it’s highly romantic when she finds out that you baked them yourself?” She swooned just thinking about it.

“Romantic? It won’t be romantic when I burn my apartment down, Garcia.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll supervise if you want. This weekend, granted if we’re free. But you—” she pointed her feathered pen at him. “—better be prepared and I’m just supervising, okay? I’m not baking it myself.”

He sighed. At least having Garcia around would make it easier.

———-

It did not in fact make it easier. Spencer burnt two batches before six pieces were considered edible. Garcia couldn’t understand, hell, he also couldn’t. Baking was precise and from his scientific viewpoint, it was a lot like chemistry. He loved science and anything academic, so how is it that he failed miserably, twice, when it came to baking?

He shook his head as he entered the office. The first one—he stole a glance at Hotch’s office and saw movement—correction, the second one arriving early. Sometimes he wondered if the unit chief ever goes home, first in and last out.

He settled in his seat before promptly fidgeting from anticipation. Statistically speaking, you arrive earlier than Morgan or Elle which gave him enough time to gift the paper bag of cookies sitting hidden in his satchel without bringing attention to and embarrassing himself. He’d like to have little to no audience if he ever does mess it up for the third time.

He brought out the cookies, afraid they’ll get crushed between his hardbound books, and placed them on your desk before standing to wash his clammy hands and make coffee. Counter intuitive of him to do as he was already a bundle of nerves and by drinking caffeine he was doubling that but maybe the smell would calm him before shooting up his energy by drinking.

As he exited the mens room, Penelope stepped out of the elevator and squealed. “Is she here? Is she? Did I miss it?”

He shook his head vigorously, trying to silence her excited glees. “No, she’s not here yet. She’ll—” he looked at his watch and ran the numbers. “—be here soon. I’m about to brew coffee. Do you want some?” He opened the door for both of them to enter the bullpen.

“Ick, no thanks,” Penelope said, scrunching her nose at the thought of drinking even a sip before scurrying away to her cave. “I’d rather not ruin my taste buds on bad coffee.”

He laughed and turned towards the kitchenette. With the coffee brewing, he drummed his fingers on the counter and mentally rehearsed what he would say to you. If he practiced, there’s less chance of messing it up like the first time, right? In his state of concentration, he missed you entering the office in all of your beautiful glory.

“Ooh cookies!” you exclaimed as you opened the unknown package on your table.

Spencer abruptly turned, hitting his side on the corners as he did. His eyes widened as he registered you holding the unsigned paper bag of treats on your desk.

“They must be from Penny,” You continued on, oblivious to his presence and the devastation your remark caused him. Of course, he’d find another way to mess it up. You glanced around and your smile widened as you took in his handsome presence. “Oh hey Spence! Look, Penny made me cookies!” You tip-toed out of excitement.

He smiled at your enthusiasm for something as simple as treats in the morning. The giggle you gave out as you entered the kitchenette was enough for him to slightly care less for the truth. He loved bringing out the happiness in you. It was like his own personal sunshine shining down on him, soaking him with vitamin D and boosting his overall sense of wellbeing. “Do you want coffee with that? It’s still hot,” he offered.

You tapped the side of your hips with his as a sign of good will. “Thanks, Spence! This is turning out to be a great day, don’t you think?”

He watched as you busied yourself with putting cream and sugar in your of cup and sighed wistfully. “I think so too.”

And the last move Spencer did was recommended by no one but himself, the awkward 187 genius

With all three acts not delivering, he promised to try one last time without any outside interference besides from yours in his memory. You always did tell him to be himself in any situation, no matter how much he stumbled through any awkward situation—always there giving him a pat on the back for encouragement.

Over the weekend, he spent his time reading two of your favorite books—which didn’t take much but he did read them again and again, regardless of his eidetic memory, trying to understand why these specific books were your comfort. Always pushed within the confines of your go bag, dog-eared and brown from age. He wanted to know how they’ve become an extension of you and how it had shaped you to the woman he has fallen in love with.

He found himself hunched over his dining table, underlining sentences that made him think of you, scribbling away on the margins (and sometimes on post its too), and tabbing the written pages with a variety of colors that each represent an emotion. The act in it of itself made him feel closer to you than he thought possible. Lines in the books that made him think, ah so this was what formed your kind spirit. This is why your empathy knew no bounds. And this is why your beauty is inside and out.

Spencer laid down to rest, anxious for the next day, Monday, to come. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest but his mind oddly calm as if it had a precognition that everything would turn out just right.

———

You arrived earlier than he did, throwing him off balance.

“Hey Spence!” You greeted with a smile. “I got you a croissant and some coffee from that shop near my place.”

He blushed and stammered out a thank you. You were wearing a deep purple blouse that matched the scarf around his neck—the birthday gift you’ve given. He was no believer of the mystics but he took all of these as a sign from the stars. There was no way he would mess this up now.

“I—I got you something too,” he looked inside his satchel, hands shaking from it all. Gods, he wished this would go well or else, he might just die from embarrassment. “It’s nothing much but—I read your two favorite books and just—I wanted to discuss it with you,” he brought out the tabbed copies and presented them to you. “These are for you. I know you have copies of your own but I-I put my own notes on which lines reminded me of you.”

Your face turned red at the notion behind it all. Here was the BAU genius, the certified lover of the classics and the academia, the man who had your affections since day one, reading two contemporary literatures just for him to present you a gift like no other. You reached out and hugged the precious copies to your chest.

“Thank you, no one’s ever done this for me before,” you breathed out, falling deeper into attraction with the perfection in front of you. “ Hey Spence, I may sound delusional asking this and you can say no if you want to but—” you visibly gulped, unaware of the audience nearby. “—would you like to have dinner with me? I make a mean lasagna.”

He turned red and vigorously nodded. “Y-Yes. Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

You giggled, sounding like wind chimes to his ears. He did too, giggle I mean, from the triumph of finally knowing that his feelings were willingly reciprocated.

“Finally, you love birds!” Morgan shouted as he swung his arm around Spencer. “Didn’t know how much we could take from this pretty boy—” pointing at him “asking for advice and you—” pointing at you “—pretty girl is as dense as a rock. Tell me again how’d you end up as profiler with those observation skills.”

A hand whacked him at the back. “Way to ruin the moment, Morgan.” Elle chided before turning to Spencer with a smile. “See told you, you could get a date.”

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mallowsweetmiri · 1 year ago

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Truth, Dare, or Punishment ~ Fred Weasley

summary: you bitches asked for dom!Fred and you shall receive. a game of truth or dare in the common room goes south when Mclaggen dares you to kiss him

warnings: possessive dom!Fred, smut, cursing

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The night had been going splendid so far. Everyone was way too excited after the arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrong to go to sleep, and the older Gryffindors decided to get shitfaced as the perfect solution to their restlessness. After all, there was no quidditch this year to justify throwing common room parties, so you guys had to get creative. The new year brought new witches and wizards to corrupt, and so the twins finally let their baby brother Ron and his year join the fun. It been going well, granted Hermione was drunk off her ass, but Harry had been watching over her well enough. You were also past the point of drunk, and you assumed by their faces that the rest of the group were on their way there. At this point in the night, those who were still awake were circled up playing a filthy game of truth or dare. Angelina had gone to do seven minutes in heaven with George, Neville had eaten a puking pastille, and Ron had madeout with Lavender Brown in a disturbing manner. It was time to spin the bottle again to see who would ask the next question. Hermione giggle and leaned into the circle to spin the bottle. Everyone look around with nervous smiles as it spun around and around, before landing on Cormac McLaggen. You cringed. This was possibly the worst person it could've stopped on. Your body had a visceral reaction when your name left his lips.

"Y/N," he smiled drukenly, "Truth or dare?" You rolled your eyes. Oh, great.

"Truth," you said, grabbing your drink and taking a swig. You were going to need it.

"Who did you lose your virginity to?"

You choked on your drink as the rest of the group murmured at the question, Hermione's jaw dropping before a stream of shocked laughs escaped her. You felt Fred tense up beside you. Your mind raced with the memories of this summer at the Burrow.

"Just like that, Y/N. You're doing so good," Fred praised as he thrusted into you, kissing the crook of your neck while he fucked you. He'd been teaching you how kiss, as a friend of course. He had to help out his dear friend Y/N when she confessed how embarrassed she was that she had never kissed anyone. Never done anything with anyone. From there it had escalated. First, you wanted to know learn to give a blowjob, but soon enough Fred thought it'd be best if you knew what these things felt like too. After a while, you both realized you were terribly obsessed with each other, and one night you decided to let him be the one to take your virginity. He was big, and you were nervous, but he was so sweet about it. Even at the beginning when you thought it wouldn't be able to fit, he was reassuring and gentle with you. But that was at the start, and by now he was fully fucking you on your back, your pussy starting the soften around his cock as pleasure began to ripple through your body. You both came together in a heap of sweat and kisses.

"Y/N," McLaggen sung, waiting for your response.

"I'm not answering that," you coughed, still choking on your drink. The group has set up measure to tell if someone was lying, so you couldn't fake still being a virgin. You supposed the question wasn't that out of pocket, but you couldn't answer it. Nobody knew about you and Fred besides George, and you both wanted to keep it that way. Especially from your families.

"Well then, you know the rules," McLaggen tsked teasingly, "you forfeit to dare."

"What? No, I-"

"Those are the rules Y/N," Hermione cringed, unable to stop herself. McLaggen smirked.

"I dare you to kiss me."

You felt nauseous. McLaggen was disgusting, and the last person you'd ever want to kiss. Unfortunately, you'd brought this onto yourself. You should've known he would dare someone to kiss himself. What a weirdo. The circle groaned and laughed in disgust as McLaggen puckered his lips. You cringed and shifted your weight to lean across the circle. Just as you were about to shuffle over to him, Fred grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You looked back at him and saw anything but a smile on his usually cheerful face. He spun the bottle and landed it on himself in a hasty motion, still holding onto your wrist tightly.

"McLaggen, I dare you to stop wearing your fucking Ballycastle Bats tighty whities to every single quidditch practice," Fred sneered before yanking you up with him and pulling you towards his dorm. You heard the group go crazy with laughter behind you and hoped it would cover for the fact that Fred just pulled you away from the party. Hopefully George could cover for you two, he should be done with seven minutes by now. Fred dragged you up the stairs without so much as a look in your direction. Once you reach his dorm, he threw open the door. What was happening?

"Fred-" he smashed his lips into yours and shut the door with your body. You gasped as your back hit to wooden surface, Fred pulling your skirt up while his hand gripped your thigh. He used your lifted leg as leverage to grind down into your hips as he pressed you against the door. Your pussy pulsed when you felt him against you, his hands gripping in all the right places. Wait a minute. When did he start kissing you again?

"Fred," you said quickly, pulling away from his mouth. He tried to kiss you again. "Fred, we just left the party. You just dragged me up here when I was supposed to kiss-"

"Don't even say his name," Fred growled, his breathing heavy and hot as he kept his face inches from yours.

"I'm sorry," you whispered out, unable to speak properly. You'd never seen Fred mad before.

"I'm sorry I dragged you," he softened, ducking his head down to kiss your neck, "but I wasn't going to let somebody else kiss you." With that, he began to attack your neck. His left hand came up to grip the back of your head as his tongue and teeth lapped at your sweet spot. You let out whimpered moans as he worked, his fingers gripping you just right. Rougher than usual.

"Freddie," you moaned, grinding yourself onto his leg. You needed more. This man had hooked, and you'd never been so addicted in your life. He picked you up under your legs and carried you to the bed before placing you down on your back. He stood over you, leaving you panting on the bed as he took off his shirt and undid his belt. His eyes were locked on yours. You wanted to look away but you couldn't, his gaze wouldn't let you. When he finished, he rushed towards you again, kissing you deeply as his hand flipped your skirt up. His tongued rammed itself into your mouth, stifling your moans when his fingers grazed over your clit. You blushed as his fingers masterfully moved your panties aside and dipped into your core. Fred laughed into the kiss as he felt you.

"Already so wet for me," he breathed huskily, "are you ready to take me?" His words had you aching. You nodded up at him bashfully. You wanted him so badly. You had turned into such a slut for his cock. "Good girl." He sat up and flipped you over, pulling your panties down as he took off his own pants. He didn't bother to take off your skirt as he pulled you back onto him. You let out a guttural moan as you felt his length stretching you out.

"Fuck, Freddie," you whined as he gripped your hips and began to thrust into you. He was going to leave bruises for tomorrow, but you didn't care.

"You're taking it so good, Y/N" Fred groaned, smacking your ass, "you like getting fucked by me? Huh?" He picked up his pace, pounding into you hard. Your moans were bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts as he waited for your reply.

"Y-yes, Freddie. I love when you fuck me," you whined, feeling you pussy begin to clench around him. His dick twitched at the feeling and groaned. In one motion, he pulled out and spun you onto your back, pulling your shirt up over your tits and pinning your wrists above your head.

"God, you look so fucking pretty. Can't see your beautiful face while I'm behind you," Fred grunted as he thrust back into you. You moaned and threw you head back. You writhed underneath Fred, his hand constraining your wrists. You desperately needed to grasps something. You were reaching the edge.

"Freddie," you cried, unable to say anything except his name. Your eyes clenched shut as you felt your stomach knot up one final time.

"That's it, baby. Come for me." You could feel his eyes on you as you released yourself around his throbbing cock. As the waves of pleasure began to slow, Fred grunted and became sloppy. He released your hands and buried his face into your neck as he came, pushing himself as deep as he could inside of you. He laid there for a moment before pushing himself off you and pulling you onto his chest. You couldn't help but giggle a little as he kissed your head and rubbed your shoulder.

"You are so jealous," you teased, looking up to see Fred. He laughed with a sleepy half smiled.

"I'm not jealous," he retorted, pinching your cheek. "I'm just protecting whats mine."

#fred weasley smut #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasely x y/n #weasley smut #harry potter headcanon #fred weasley headcanons #weasley twins #hp headcanon #hp fanfic #hp smut #george weasley #george weasly x reader #mallowsweetmiri

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beloveds-embrace · 4 months ago

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Noona i NEED to yap about this thought I had about the angst Dukedom au so my brain worms will let me sleep. I Imagine a people's princess duchess who spends time with others to fill in for the lack of emotional connection between her and John and people just do not understand why she is out of the house so much. Tea with the ladies? She's there. Charity event for struggling orphans? Duchess is there to help! Church in the middle of the afternoon on a random day? She's in the pew. The house is taken care of, her parties are enjoyable, but why is she gone so often? Duchess just gives a pained smile and says that her husband does not mind her being gone because neither the staff nor him want her there. Why ask her husband for love when he clearly just needed someone to run the duchy?

Hope your sleep went well <3 i nees these men to suffer tbh

The house runs itself.

At least, that is what you tell yourself. The schedules are in place, the staff well-trained, the estate thriving. You have done your duty as Duchess of Price, managing affairs with grace, ensuring that the duchy’s name remains untarnished, that the books are balanced, and the tenants are provided for. You have even done more than what was expected, expanding the duchy’s charitable reach, establishing new programs for the less fortunate, and ensuring the nobility sees the Price name attached to every act of generosity.

And yet, despite all your efforts, there is no warmth in your home.

The staff keep their distance. There are no hushed greetings in the morning, no inquiry into your health when you sit at the long dining table, staring at your untouched, cold meals that are a stark contrast to the others’ steaming dishes.

They serve you as required, but do not linger. They do not ask if you would like another cup of tea, if your shawl is warm enough, if the flowers in your room are to your liking. You don’t need them to do it, but- it’s the emphasized loneliness that hurts the most.

John is no different.

You see him at dinners, always seated across from you, his gaze never lingering, his words few and functional. He speaks to Kyle more than he speaks to you. He shares glances with Simon that you have never been privy to, and when Johnny appears with a dish in hand, John’s expression softens in a way it never does for you.

Meanwhile, you are… tolerated.

And so, you leave.

Your absence from the manor goes unnoticed at first.

The city welcomes you in ways your home never has. Tea with the noble ladies? You never miss an afternoon, sipping floral blends as you listen to idle gossip, smiling where appropriate. A charity event for struggling orphans? You are the first to arrive, personally distributing warm coats and new shoes to children who look at you with something you rarely receive- gratitude.

Church in the middle of the afternoon? You kneel in silent prayer, hands clasped, seeking answers from a God who offers none. And yet the statues and pews are still not as cold towards you as your own husband.

“Duchess, you do so much,” Lady Bethany remarks one afternoon over luncheon, her fan flicking open with an appreciative snap. She’s a pretty thing, recently wed and already draped in the pretty glow of pregnancy. “I swear, I see you more than your own husband must.”

You laugh softly, demure and mindful. “The duchy has many responsibilities.”

“And yet you make time for everything but your home?” Another lady muses, curiosity laced in her tone.

You lower your gaze to your plate, the question hanging in the air. You have learned to navigate this tightrope of expectations, of unspoken truths wrapped in silk and civility.

With a practiced, pained smile, you say: “My husband does not mind my absence.”

You let the words settle before adding, voice barely above a whisper, “Neither he nor the staff particularly miss me.”

The silence that follows is thick.

Lady Bethany’s fan stills, her eyes softening towards you. Another woman fidgets with her gloves. No one speaks, and you take a sip of your tea, the bitterness sharp on your tongue.

Why ask for love when your husband only needed someone to run the duchy?

And the house remains indifferent to your absence- at first.

The staff continue their duties as usual, the butlers maintaining the schedule, the maids ensuring the rooms remain pristine. No one spares a thought for why you are always gone, only that it makes their jobs easier.

Until, one evening, Kyle pauses in the study, glancing at the untouched tea left on a side table. The Duchess usually ensures the staff are well taken care of, he realizes. Who had reminded them today?

No one.

In the kitchens, Johnny frowns when he notices the ledger left open, the list of requested ingredients unusually long. You had always been meticulous, approving the finest quality for the household, ensuring every item was fresh and of the best stock. The kitchen had run smoothly for months, never wanting for anything.

Now, it was as if no one had noticed the difference until the fruits arrived bruised and the meat not quite up to the usual standard.

Simon notices, too. The events you planned, the invitations you managed, the way you always ensured John’s name was spoken with admiration at every gathering- without you, the social scene seemed… quieter. The duchy’s presence less prominent.

And John notices most of all.

At first, he does not think much of it. His wife was always attending some function or another. That was her role, wasn’t it? To manage the estate, to see to the duchy’s reputation?

But then, he starts seeing the effects of your absence the longer you continue to keep to the people and not the duchy.

The reports come in slower. The meetings with city officials, once neatly arranged for his convenience, are now scattered, delayed. The letters from the nobility are fewer, the invitations sparser. The charitable events- ones that bore the Price name- have dwindled in number.

And the house itself… feels empty.

John returns from meetings to silence. Dinners are quiet, even when the others join him. There is no soft rustling of skirts as you pass through the halls, no gentle murmur of your voice as you speak to the staff.

One evening, he enters his study to find a stack of correspondence on his desk- letters you had handled, decisions you had made.

You had been doing so much.

Too much.

And no one had noticed.

When he finally seeks you out, it is not in your chambers.

John finds you in the drawing room, seated by the window, your hands resting idly in your lap. Your gaze is distant, unfocused, the usual light in your eyes dimmed. Winter was drawing nearer, and so gatherings dwindled in number and as a result, you had to spend more time in this cold, unfeeling house.

For the first time in months, he hesitates.

“…You’ve been busy.” He says at last.

You turn your head slightly, but you do not smile. Or at least, put no effort in making your smile appear genuine. “As have you, my lord.”

He swallows, uncertain. “You have done a fine job with the duchy, wife. The duchy is in good standing.”

You inhale, waiting for the unspoken ‘but.’

“But…” He hesitates. “Some matters are not quite as well-managed as before.”

Your lips curl in a faint, humorless smile. “Did it take you long to notice?”

John exhales slowly. He had not noticed, not until things started slipping. But now, looking at you- at the exhaustion in your frame, the emptiness in your eyes- he realizes you had been holding up far more than he had ever given you credit for.

“… You aren’t here anymore much.” His voice is quiet now, almost careful. As if he is speaking to an animal that will bite him if he misspeaks.

You laugh softly, but there is no joy in it. “Would you want to spend your days in a house where you are not wanted? That aside, I assumed you would prefer not to see me at all.

“I never said you weren’t wanted. Nor have I told you I’d prefer it if you were away.”

“You didn’t need to.”

The realization strikes down much like a hammer, and all that’s left in its wake is silence.

John had always assumed you knew- knew that your marriage was one of convenience, that his affections lay elsewhere, that you were never meant to be part of the life he had built with his men.

But looking at you now, he realizes he had mistaken your silence for understanding. Had mistaken your silence for acceptance, for agreement that you were complete fine with this cruel treatmeant.

He had thought you accepted it, that you preferred the distance.

But had you?

Or had you simply endured it because… there was nothing else to do?

You sigh, bowing your head to avoid his gaze. Your voice is quiet when you speak next, bereft of any hope, any warmth.

“…I shall return to my duties in the morning, and I will keep out of everyone’s way, my lord. Goodnight.”

#noona.asks #noona.writes

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shrimpybbq · 10 months ago

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season 1 rafe with his gf & son

i have to be sooo truthful here in that rafe is like 90% the actual worst during the events of season 1 to high school gf!

he's still doing drugs and going to parties, never coming home until the early morning if at all

maybe he was on better terms with his gf for a while, but everyone on the island knows that the pair are always on-and-off

when they are good, rafe is surprisingly sweet to her. he's always opening doors and looking after their son so she can rest. rafe is so much more physically affectionate too during these times, with his hands always on her, stroking her hip or playing with her hair

and then when they fight, it's like all that goes away and he's back to ignoring her

she lives in the main house now as that's where their son's nursery is, but most of the time she's sleeping in the guest room after they argue

rafe's idea of family bonding is going to the country club, drinking his expensive whiskey and eating overpriced food. he likes seeing his son look around wide-eyed at the new sights and new people, and he enjoys having his son sit in his lap while he drinks, mumbling nonsense to see his little smile

he tries to take his son out golfing once only to realise that he couldn't be away from his mother for so long, much to his annoyance. it's fine though bc he's insisting they all go together next time - problem solved in his mind

rafe and high school gf! go to midsummer's together as each others dates. rafe wouldn't have let her go with anyone else anyway, but he likes the display of having her on his arm. he matches his suit to the floral design of her gown to make the statement even clearer (they have a child together and he's worried about people knowing she's his???)

he manages to hide a lot of the events that go on from his gf, but some of them still reach her ears courtesy of sarah, and he can't stand the disappointed look she gives him. sometimes though, he makes her sit down and listen to his explanation, trying to get her to see his side. he's so relieved when she nods and no longer looks at him in that way (but she still doesn't tell him he was right, he always notes)

when barry burns rafe, he's knocking on the door of the guest room with tears in his eyes, clutching his badly burnt arm to his chest. gf just looks at him wide-eyed, telling him to sit on her bed while she grabs the first aid kit. rafe can't help but let the tears stream down his face as she cleans, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he sobs. that night is the first time he sleeps with her in the guest room, his head nuzzled into her chest as she cradles him

ok but if barry ever threatens his girl and kid rafe won't let it go. he's landing a punch on the drug dealer's face immediately, his rage spiking instantaneously. barry learns not to threaten them again after the second time he wore purple bruises on his chin

oh, sweet pretty gf has no idea what rafe has done to the sheriff, and he plans to keep it that way. he wanted to protect his dad, but he absolutely refuses to let anything happen to his own family. she's so shocked when he tells her of john b's actions, the boy having lived down the hall from them, and rafe plays into the role of protector again. he's got her in his arms as she cries about how he was around their son, and rafe just hums and tells her "i would never let someone hurt either of you, you know that right?". it warms his heart to see her nod into his chest.

sometimes his gf walks into the nursery only to see her son not in his crib, but she knows exactly where he is. pushing open rafe's door she sees the two of them in bed, her sweet baby cuddled up on rafe's bare chest as they both sleep. he needs to be with his son when he has a bad day, which seems to be more often than not nowadays

rafe is rapidly growing more mentally unwell and the only thing that seems to soothe him is his gf and son, and he spends as much time as he can with them. the little baby is always in his arms as he coos down at him, watching his kid's eyes brighten at the sight of his dada. rafe reasons with himself that everything he does is to protect his family and that he couldn't be wrong then, could he?

Click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

Click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

Click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

Oh this was a bit of a novel, but rafe truly has so many facets to explore, let alone once you give him a big motivator like a kid!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron blurb #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks headcanons #outer banks fanfiction #high school gf! au #dad!rafe au #dad!rafe

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years ago

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Last updated July 15th, 2025

Drabble masterlist here (fics under 1k words) <3

⁂ Azriel ⁂

→ Multi-Part Series

∙ Of Oblivious Minds (Part I) - completed 🤍

You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Part II, Part III, Part IV

∙ If It All Fell (Series Masterlist) updating next!!

If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

∙ Trial and Error (Series Masterlist) updated last!

You came to Velaris under duress five years ago—pregnant, alone, and in hiding from something, or someone, too dangerous to even speak aloud. When your daughter begged you to go to school years after settling down in the apartment above a worn-down apothecary, you obliged her. But things still didn't feel safe. Azriel was going to do everything in his power to give you that safety. At least, he would try.

∙ Fable (Series Masterlist)

Watching in silence was all you had ever done. And silence was fine, it was safe. But with silence came consequences, and with consequences came hard truths.

→ Multi-Part Oneshots

∙ If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part II

∙ Liminality (Azriel x Rhysand's Sister!Reader) updated recently

Feyre has learned something about Rhysand's late sister. She decides to speak to Azriel about it—to learn more about the small flecks of grief painted on Azriel's face. She's left with far more than she can cope with.

∙ Erstwhile (prequel) You've fallen ill. No one knows what's wrong. No one knows what's to come.

∙ Compliments to the Line Cook

Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel)

∙ Favoritism Azriel always seems to be working. Well, not always. Sometimes he's on the phone outside the restaurant with a massive smile on his face. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Lessons in Care Azriel loves you so much. Even though you can't cook. You're trying though. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Colds and Retold Confessions Azriel would never be one to not take care of his girl when she's sick. That doesn't mean he won't make her blush. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Across Town A coffee date with Azriel. It's snowing. He doesn't seem to mind. (Modern AU, Line Cook!Azriel) ∙ Short AU Drabble ∙ Short AU Drabble Based on the ask: "line cook! az not being able to comprehend reader getting a summer job as like a barista or something while she’s off school. like taking offense lmao"

∙ Flightless Bird (Azriel x Human!Reader)

Azriel was not supposed to be in the mortal lands. Azriel was not supposed to love a mortal. He couldn't find it in him to care.

∙ The Occurrence Based on the ask: "okay period fics are my guilty pleasure but az finding out mortal women get them every month would make him spiral LMAOO" ∙ Against the World Azriel learns that loving a human means loving the uncoordinated and the injury-prone and the acceptance that he can't save you from it all. ∙ Drabble Based on the ask: "reader getting hurt (broken arm, sprained ankle) and az literally crashing tf out over the recovery time"

→ Standalone Oneshots

∙ Only in Dreams

In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

∙ Reversal

When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

∙ Set in Stone

The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

∙All Over Again

You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

∙ By the Book

Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

∙ To Feel At Home

Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

∙ A Promise

As war inches closer on the horizon, Azriel reminds you of a promise you made to him—one you aren't sure you can keep.

∙ Creature Fear

And if had been clean, if there had been no strings between you, this would have been easy. But, with Azriel, you had never expected the strings to disappear. They would always be there—at least, they would for you.

∙ I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted

Falling in love with Azriel had never been in the cards. Falling in love with anyone other than the husband your father appointed to you had always been a far-fetched notion. And that was a truth you had lived by. 10 years ago.

⁂ Cassian ⁂

∙ R&R

Cassian was tired and you were taking forever to get your ass back home.

∙ The Construct of Loyalty

After months of "disobedience," your father calls upon Cassian to be your personal guard. That leaves Cassian, a soldier in the Night Court army, your childhood friend, and a man deeply in love with you, to protect you from all fronts—including the arranged marriage you were born into.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #masterlist

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 year ago

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You know what would make the Lucky Charm more balanced? Make it so that there are times where other characters figure it out, not just Ladybug. That way, it doesn't make Ladybug hypercompent and makes it possible for other people to save the day.

I don't mind Ladybug being the one best suited to Lucky Charm. I don't think it makes her hyper competent because you don't need a Lucky Charm to save the day. It's just the way that she saves the day. The other characters should have their own unique talents that let them win fights. Generally speaking, that's how strong teams work.

For a random example, let's talk about the teenage mutant ninja turtles simply because I think most people know something about that franchise. The character Donatello (aka Donnie) is the team's tech guy. He makes all kinds of inventions that help them save the day. The show would not be improved if all four of the turtles were able to take on this inventor role. I'd argue that it would actually be lessened because the characters would become interchangeable. This is something that the franchise seems to agree with as each version of the show gives each turtle unique skills and personality traits that makes each of them indispensable in their own way, which is what I think Miraculous should have done with the temp heroes.

That being said, I do think that there's a way to make your idea work. I'd just go a slightly different, more lore balancing route since Lucky Charm is technically bad lore and you all know how I feel about bad lore. So let's talk about giving it a minor tweak and how I think that would actually improve things.

Tikki is supposed to be Creation, not Luck, so the Lucky Charm shouldn't have anything to do with Luck. It should just be pure Creation where the holder comes up with a thing they want and that thing then pops up. It could also have a give and take element where the holder gets what they asked for if they want something specific, but they could also just call the power as a hail Mary and Tikki would come up with something on the fly, leading to the occasional puzzle.

This leads me to my proposed changed.

I personally think it would be hilarious and honestly more fun for Marinette's character if she could summon anything she wanted, but the Lucky Charms stay exactly the same because that's just how her mind works. Even when Tikki is helping, it's still all wacky items because Tikki knows how Marinette is and just goes with it.

For example, in Copy Cat, Ladybug turns a spoon into a hook for a cobbled together fishing pole. Wouldn't it be even funnier if Marinette summoned a spoon on purpose because she was thinking of the makeshift thing she cobbled together in order to fish up something she dropped from her balcony? Then, post fight, Chat Noir praises her like always, only to then ask, "So why a spoon and not a fishing hook?" And Ladybug just stares at him because oh, right, those are things they make. She could have done that. Ooops.

And in Malediktator where she summons a sniper rifle to get a laser pointer? Well, she was thinking about this silly comic about a cat assassin! She totally spaced on the fact that you could just get a laser pointer by itself.

Eventually, her team learns to just go with it and not ask questions. Meanwhile, the general public thinks that the Lucky Charm is some random item that Ladybug has to figure out and no one bothers to correct this misunderstanding. You can even have a running gag of new team members learning the truth and going through the acceptance process of, "Hey, you try thinking up how to set a trap while a 5 meter tall lollipop is trying to crush you! Your mind goes to what it knows, not to the ideal solution, okay???"

If we go with this setup, then other people can wield the Ladybug and use Lucky Charm effectively, they'll just use it in a very different way from the way Marinette uses it. There will also be people who are just not suited to the Ladybug since that was initially how the powers were supposed to work and it made perfect sense. Kwamis should have ideal holders along with okay backups and terrible backups. I personally think Alya would be an okay backup since she's creative, but not creative in the same way Marinette is, leading her to be a lesser Ladybug. Adrien, on the other hand, should generally suck at the Ladybug as he simply doesn't have that style of creative thinking. Which is fine. Better than fine, even! You don't want your characters to be interchangeable! They should all have strengths and weaknesses!

This is one of the show's big flaws. Since everything is on Marinette's shoulders, the other characters rarely get a chance to shine and so they feel interchangeable. For example, if gift always shows the target what THEY want, then why does Rose need to be the one to wield it? Juleka could wield it just as easily. And if Ladybug is generally the one telling Marc and Nathaniel what to summon with their powers, then their creativity is not needed. Anyone could wield the rooster and the goat! The show has completely failed to understand what makes teams memorable and so we have a bloated, boring team whose presence I'm dreading because they had five seasons to set these guys up and yet here we are.

#anon ask #ml writing critical #ml writing salt

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10ava01 · 3 months ago

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In Every Little Moment - JOAQUIN TORRES

Summary: Mitting his family for the first time tured out better than you expected.

Author's Note: this imagine can be read as a standalone, but it also works as part 2 of The Smallest Piece of Heaven

Masterlist Request

Few weeks have passed since the baby was born, and somehow, Joaquin is more obsessed than ever. You should have seen it coming. I mean, that man gets excited even thinking about you or the baby. Even before the baby was born, he planned everything. What to buy, what their name should be, what activities to do—and he was mostly excited about when the baby could finally talk.

You couldn't have imagined anyone who could be a better father than Joaquin Torres. That man was probably born to be a dad and a loving husband.

So really, you shouldn’t be surprised.

But as you’ve learned over the years, Joaquin can surprise you even in the most obvious moments. And truth be told, you live for these moments. You wouldn't give up anything for it to change. Not even the messy part of how you met. Because everything turned out how you planned it when you were a little girl. A husband that wants to be there for every moment—even the bad—as long as he goes through those parts with you, and a baby boy that looks more and more like his dad. You just hope that you raise him to be just like his dad.

As you fall into your thoughts, he moves through the house in socks and soft whispers, carrying your tiny baby boy. Your bundle of joy, as you like to say. Every little noise the baby makes, every wriggle of his fingers, has Joaquin smiling. The exact smile that made you fall for him the first time. And he’s wearing it even more nowadays. You can't imagine how this is even possible, since Joaquin is the most optimistic and happy person you know. But as you can see—he surprised you again.

You’re still getting used to the quiet chaos of parenthood. There’s so much work even now, as if your pregnancy wasn’t hard enough. The million bottles he bought “just in case” lying in every room, the diapers scattered around the whole floor. The sleep deprivation? That’s your worst enemy. But the way Joaquin is looking at your baby boy? You don’t mind the hard work, the chaos, the lack of sleep. You would go through labor all over again if it means you get to do it with Joaquin.

You thought that while you were pregnant was the best part—him whispering about his excitement to the baby, spending time with him, tasting new food together, and carrying you everywhere just because he didn’t want his wife to tire herself out. But now? That man does all those things ten times more. How he has the energy for it, you don’t know.

But today... today is very different from the other days.

Today, you’re meeting his whole family. The whole Torres crew.

Sure, you met his mother before. He wanted you to meet the woman that raised him to be the man he is now. But his whole family? That’s a different story. The pressure is ten times more than before. You had to impress one person back then, but now you have to impress the whole squad. As you expected, his mother is as loving as the same man you fell in love with. She cried in joy the first time she saw the baby in the hospital—held him close and whispered, "Mi amorcito, mi cielo," like the little one had stolen her heart, which, obviously, he did.

But today? The aunts, the cousins, the tíos y tías—everyone’s coming. And suddenly, as time creeps in, your anxiety starts rising. You’ve gone through every little detail you can think of so everything turns out perfect. The house is so clean you could probably see your own reflection. The food you prepared followed the recipe you learned in cooking classes a few months back. Still, the feeling of something missing creeps inside you. That everything you’ve done is not enough, and you should’ve gone all out for today. That maybe you missed something when you prepared the food or when you were cleaning. Your heartbeat is racing.

“Babe,” you whisper, clutching the baby’s onesie like it’s your emotional support object. “What if they don’t like me?”

Joaquin looks up at you from where he’s tying a ribbon around a box of pastries his mom specially requested. He sees right through you, even though you acted the whole day like you weren’t nervous. He knows your thoughts even if you tell him you’re doing alright. He just knows. So he helped in every way he could, just so you wouldn’t tire yourself out.

“They’re going to love you. You had their grandbaby—you’re automatically a saint in their eyes.”

He’s telling you the truth, and his mother would agree with him. She doesn’t lie to you about anything.

You try to smile, but the nerves don’t budge. “I don’t speak Spanish.”

You’re a little worried about communication. Sure, his mother and Joaquin could translate anything if needed. But the thought of them not seeing you as a part of the family makes you want to cry. You want them to like you and accept you into their family. You love Joaquin with all that you have, and disappointing his family would mean disappointing him. That’s the last thing you want to do. You try to calm yourself by repeating his words over and over again in your head.

“You don’t have to,” he says softly, coming over to you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “They’ll meet you with open arms. That’s how we do things. And I’ll be there the whole time.”

You just hope that his words become truth as you embrace him. All you want is to be part of the family officially.

—

Because of all the anxiousness, you’re not sure what you expected—maybe polite smiles and awkward tension. But the moment you walk through the door with your baby boy in your arms, the Torres house practically explodes with warmth and laughter. Hugs and kisses to the cheeks while everyone introduces themselves to you.

Joaquin’s abuelita waddles up to you first, her eyes misty, hands reaching with reverence. “¡Ay, qué hermoso!” she gasps, and though you don’t understand anything, her joy is universal. You just hope it’s something good that she said.

You carefully pass your baby to her, heart still fluttering, but Joaquin leans in to assure you that you’re doing so good. “She said our baby is beautiful. And she’s right.”

Your anxiousness fades a little in that moment.

The house is filled with voices from every corner. You’re happy that everyone is having a good time, spending time with the baby. Everything is not as bad as you expected.

The living room smells like food—arroz con pollo, empanadas, pan dulce. While everyone is occupied, you’re pulled by Joaquin’s cousin into a tight hug.

“You’re the one, huh?” she says with a wink. “We’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for making him so happy.”

You’ve heard about his favorite cousin so much, and you’re glad she likes you. Maybe you were terrified of nothing, because everyone seems to like you.

You nearly tear up right then and there. Just those few words made you so happy.

Joaquin sticks to your side as promised, translating when you need it, nudging you gently toward cousins and aunts with reassurance. You are met with nothing but warmth and appreciation from his whole family. His mother even made you a plate with all the things you like without asking, placing it in front of you with a proud smile, as if she’s known you your entire life.

Joaquin smiles as he sees you interact with his mother—one of the most important people in his life getting along better than he could imagine. Just you being you makes him want to relive every second over and over again. If anyone gave him a free wish, he’d repeat all of it with you.

Later, when he puts the baby to sleep, you find yourself sitting on the porch steps, the hum of his family still echoing inside.

“Told you,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around you. “They love you.”

“I think I love them too,” you whisper, eyes still damp from all the hugs and unexpected tears.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You lean into him, the stars blinking from above, your heart full in a way it’s never been before.

Family. Love. Home.

All the things you once wished for—right here.

#danny ramirez #joaquin torres x reader #marvel #new dad #family man #sam wilson #falcon #need him so bad

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little-fae-hero · 5 months ago

Text

Linked Universe, The Chosen Hero

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut. Warning for dark themes, sickly appearance and death visions (Note: I may stuff over time but nothing will be delete from the list).

Twilight. Wind. Legend. Hyrule. Four. Time. War. Wild.

Sky (Skyward Sword). Other Nicknames: Hylia’s chosen, Sleepyhead, Cloud, Birdbrain, First knight, Skyloftan.

Titles: Hylia’s Chosen Hero, The Hero Reborn, Hero of Skyloft.

God who has claim over his soul: Hylia

Part of First’s soul: Caring/kindness (biggest piece)

Note: While he is technically called the ‘first hero’ he wasn’t actually the first hero. The first one while saving humanity was wounded, and died. However the first hero was scrapped from history, so by all accounts Sky is the ‘first hero’. He’s also the ‘first hero’ by a time travel and the grandfather paradox.

History:

Link was just a boy on Skyloft, he was in the knights academy along with his best friend Zelda and his rival known as Groose. They are bonded with Loftwings which are considered half of their soul. Link gets a weird dream, is woken up and then has to go looking for his Loftwing, Red. Link eventually finds his Loftwing and wins the race, officially graduating and Zelda gives him her sailcloth.

A tornado pulls Zelda out of the sky, Link tries to help her but it is seemingly useless. When Link wakes up, he’s called by a mystery figure who lures him down to a secret place, where the Goddess sword is located. He meets the spirit in the Goddess Sword, her name is Fi and she was given the task of helping the chosen hero defeat the Demon known as Demise, she offers that if Link takes this adventure he will find Zelda as well.

Eventually during this adventure Link learns the truth, that Zelda is Hylia reborn, that this was a long plan coming and just exactly who he is. Despite everything he still goes after to save her, having to forge the Master Sword to make sure it can actually be strong enough to kill the demon. After facing and killing the demon, Demise uttered a curse, to always be reborn and that the ones with the goddess blood and the hero spirit can never know peace. Link says goodbye to Fi but has to grapple with what he’s learned, he still loves Zelda and his new quest is to settle on the surface and have a family with Zelda for as long as his body will allow.

Death: Happened soon after his second child with Zelda. Suddenly his soul was becoming too much for his body and burned him from the inside out. He died out on a walk, Zelda did her best but couldn’t get his heart to start again.

Interesting stuff/Headcanons:

Link learns about his past and gains memories back after his first temple. He kept trying to push and go forward so Fi had to push him into the water to save him.

Basically his soul was burning up his body.

He does have a slight breakdown after this and is left with a burn scar over his heart.

After the final battle, Sky is lit with lighting scars crawling up his body. Most are seen on his neck, but some hint up to his face.

Sky talked a lot with Fi and really grew to care for her, she was the only person who would talk about the past with him. He still talks to the sword even if he won’t get an answer.

He learns a lot of songs and a lot of stories that he shouldn’t know. He knows history that has been lost to ages and will forever stay lost.

Sky falling asleep isn’t natural, it was a safety measure done by Hylia, to try and keep his soul from burning out like the last hero.

So if he sits down for too long without something to do, he will fall asleep.

He also suffers from visions and dreams about the future. Some are vague but others are not. He knew he was fated to die before Zelda’s hair even turned gray.

The prophetic dreams come from the father of his soul, and his connection to time. Sky has the dreams cause he has the biggest soul piece.

Sky tries to stay on the positive side because 1) it’s in his nature and 2) if he didn’t he probably would have broken down by now.

Sky has come to terms that Zelda isn’t Hylia, she may have some memories but Hylia couldn’t be bound in a mortal form (at least not like in the games), she is just what Hylia thinks are her best parts (you can think like Zelda is a daughter or offshoot of Hylia).

Zelda and Sky both deal with an identity crisis and bond over it. Zelda does try to find ways to stop Sky’s visions from coming true.

He keeps a feather from his Loftwing in his hair, so he can always be connected to Red.

He took up woodworking and whittling to keep himself awake when he sits down.

Unlike the others, he seems to be the only one experiencing the curse, it could be because he has a bigger piece of the original soul.

He can play the harp, specially he still carries around and uses the goddess harp.

He can cook, he just often doesn’t because he would doze off while something was cooking.

Just because Sky is sleeping doesn’t mean he’s resting, so he has bags under his eyes despite the amount of sleeping he does.

The bags combined with his pale skin that never seems to get darker, gives him a gaunt appearance at times.

His visions have also allowed him to see what the others deal with on their adventure (as well as their deaths). He mainly tries to come across as someone you can talk to.

Sky adores birds, he doesn’t understand why all the others seem to hate them.

Sometimes he feels a bitter envy for the other heroes, not knowing their fate, not knowing the burning feeling digs into his chest.

Sky is very protective of Fi and the Master Sword, he doesn’t understand how someone like Time sees it as a curse.

Sky can actually feel/see the other hero’s spirits or the broken part. Sometimes his mind screams at him to do something, but he doesn’t know what. (it’s like a faint greenish glow)

—-

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe au #linked universe sky #linkeduniverse sky #lu sky #fae lu au #my lu au #lu au #linked universe headcanon #hero of the sky #the chosen hero #hylia's chosen hero #lu gods of hyrule #lu cursed au #fae lu headcanons

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joelscurls · 2 years ago

Text

feel it in your bones

next part

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12.5k

summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3

You’ve gotten used to being alone.

You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull.

Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling.

You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.

Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.

Really, you like being alone.

Until you don’t.

It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school.

She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house, re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck.

In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.

So, he’d made the trek to Vermont, with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it.

Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.

In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are.

Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor.

You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school.

Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.

There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it.

A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.

“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.”

Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front, scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.

Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation.

The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.

You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.

You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project.

“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”

You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.

“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”

The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time.

It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall. Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.

When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.

Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.

You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.

You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear.

“Professor!”

When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower.

He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.

He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer, strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.

In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.

“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name.

He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing.

“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”

Ma’am.

It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon.

Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.

“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.

You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.”

She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.

“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?”

Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down.

And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.

So, you say yes.

“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”

You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight.

Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them.

A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.

He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.

Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting.

Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”

He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.”

She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”

Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs.

“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer.

“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”

He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”

Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.

“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.

“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.

He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.

Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well.

“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced.

“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”

“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”

There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.

“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”

He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting.

“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...”

She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now.

“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking.

“Sarah-” he starts.

“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”

He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.

He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that.

He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.

But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules.

“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.

He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.

You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone.

You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.

And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs.

You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.

So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids.

You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.

Then you press your fingers down harder.

Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky.

He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches.

He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.

He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.

You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour.

After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?

You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle.

“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone.

“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”

“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.

But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks.

“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”

“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.

He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”

The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.

You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say:

“Looks like a bad trip.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.”

He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.

You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.

“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?”

Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even.

He comes up empty.

“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.

“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation.

Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you.

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”

You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.

Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.

“Quentin. Hey.”

“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.”

You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.”

He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole.

“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side.

“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”

This guy can’t be serious.

You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks.

“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”

It’s the last straw.

In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door.

It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.

He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught.

You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.”

Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now.

“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.

“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”

“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him.

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.

“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”

“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.

“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.

“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.

The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.

It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames.

On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.

The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.

The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.

When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want.

It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind.

“Same as you.”

He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.

Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.

This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.

You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.

Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.

“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it.

Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you mumble.

He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?”

It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.

You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet.

It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin.

You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble.

When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips.

After a beat, he looks up at you.

“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”

You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.

“You barely know me,” you joke.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”

You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat.

You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave.

It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.

He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are.

“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.”

You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”

He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough.

“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.”

Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders.

“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”

Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”

“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles.

“No Joel – it’s you.”

He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you.”

His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.

“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.

“Sarah?,” you ask.

“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”

He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.

“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”

“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”

“And you like it?,” you ask.

“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”

You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.

Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.

But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze.

Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.

“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.

Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.

“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his.

It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too.

The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.

You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”

You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly.

You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.

You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.

What time is it?

You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair.

You tap on the screen, waking it up.

12:47?! When had it gotten so late?

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You wait outside for your driver — John M.

The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.

“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”

You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.”

You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you.

“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips.

When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same.

“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out.

You turn back to him. “You better.”

He’s smiling when you shut the door.

You’re smiling when the car pulls away.

It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again.

And then you feel sick.

Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.

He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you.

He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.

Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.

He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible.

Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter.

Toast it is, then.

Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him.

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.

Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late.

“You buyin’?,” he jokes.

“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.”

“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.

“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.

You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel

You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move?

It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.

Because it never ends well, once they do.

You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’.

Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.

This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it.

You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.

Well – you think – no going back now.

Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.

Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.

The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in.

Joel types his reply and sends it:

Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?

Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”

His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.

“Is that my professor?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough.

“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh.

Joel raises an eyebrow at her.

“You done?”

“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”

He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored.

He opens your latest message, instead.

Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)

His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.

He doesn’t catch who wins the game.

Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot.

Punctual, you note.

He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers.

“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.”

The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive.

“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet.

“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time.

Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.

“Come in.”

You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island.

“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”

“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”

You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes.

“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.”

He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours.

You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

Oh.

You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you.

“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer.

“Please.”

It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous.

He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer.

Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second.

You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.

“Joel,” you pant, “I need you.”

It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”

You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently.

“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel.

Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.

He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island.

He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.

You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.

Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.

He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.

He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now.

“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.

The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.

“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.

He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.

“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling.

“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”

“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing.

“On my pussy, Joel” you plead.

He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Good girl.”

He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice.

“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.

Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”

He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it.

He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.

He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans.

“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”

You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat.

He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.

You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.

He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus.

You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.

“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”

Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.

You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much. “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.

He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm.

And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop.

He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue.

It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.

The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch.

His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.

He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.

He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.

He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body.

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.

One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.

You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”

You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied.

But Joel isn’t just any man.

“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.

Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him.

You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move.

“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”

“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.

He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again.

He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.

“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.

“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”

Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there.

His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.

“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.”

You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.

But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”

He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking.

“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”

You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.

He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours.

“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”

He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back. A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words.

“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”

Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him.

“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.”

The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.

You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven.

“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.

“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”

He curses in ecstasy, cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend.

He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound.

“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”

He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids.

He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”

He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.

Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.

You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.

Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”

He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.

Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard.

He sets them down by your feet.

“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.

“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”

Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.

“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.

And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.

It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.

“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”

He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels.

He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours.

He settles in with a content sigh.

You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”

He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.

“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer.

“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional.

“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”

He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it.

“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds.

“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t.

The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.

“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”

“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.”

“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease.

His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.

“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!”

“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again.

“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”

Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.

You swallow. Collect yourself.

“Yeah. I would.”

You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.

His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.”

Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.”

He smiles. “‘m glad.”

“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.”

And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes.

You’ve never been so excited for the future.

end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

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evilminji · 3 months ago

Text

Okay! Back with THIS Because it hasn't left me alone!

I can? So clearly see it?

The System, arbiter of what Is and Is Not narratively satisfying. Watching through the back of OCs eyes, as it has been, the entire fucking time. Rarely chiming in. Because they, The System (both plural and the Organization), have been running different scenarios with this particular Story. Different Transmigrators and set ups.

Because of the wildly unusual... success? Outlier? The freak Event™ with that Shen Qingqui stand in. (It was CRAZY, man.)

Whole thing got bumped over to R&D, which is here, for Professional Poking At™. And let me TELL ya! There has been some WILD reactions! Half these characters go "hmmm... I have decided to BURN THE WORLD DOWN" at the drop of a hat!

Fascinating~! ( o O-O)c/ *scribbles notes*

Which? Leads to That Moment™. The Moment Luo Binghe goes Too Far, narratively, to retain his Hero title. Even within the loose bounds of a Stalion Protagonist. All? WHILE THE SYSTEM IS WATCHING.

Because it's ONE thing? To return "a hundred fold" an ill done against you. Even if, in reality, that is WILDLY disproportionate. Horrifically so. It breaks hands for minor bruises. Burns homes, for insults payed by children. Creates ugliness in a world that desperately does not need more of it.

However? Oc? Narratively? Was off on her Peak. Nothing but KIND every time they crossed paths. A distant, coveted, elder sister like figure. Stopped bullies, healed wounds, hurt no one. By his own Narrative "rules"? She should be untouchable.

If he was acting like a Protagonist.

But a fall from grace? The tragedy of a good man, corrupted by the cycle of abuse and the legendary Heart Demon Sword Xin Mo? A VILLIAN made of "what could have been" and "our sins come back to haunt us"? Oh~ how the world was Never FAIR! Never KIND! Look how he lashes out!!

Better reassign him. How INTERESTING.

Good thing there's always a BACK UP. All they got to do? Is pop Gongyi Xiao into the Role! And there we go! Huh. Would you look at that. Whole thing got so much more stable. Bit more generic, yes, but he IS an everyman sort. And the supporting cast makes up for it! Look how much MORE can be supported! Fascinating~

Like? Suddenly Tianlang-jun is getting out from under that mountain. Because he's no longer blocked by the "we can't have someone Stronger then the Protagonist"! Cause there's LOTS of cultivators stronger then Gongyi! He's still learning! Growing! That's not the POINT of his journey.

And? Gongyi? Looks a hell of a lot like Binghe. Who? Looks damn near identical?? To his mom. It's one of the horrifying Truth's Gongyi will discover about his Sect and Sect Leader! The man's sick obsession with the honorable Miss Su Xiyan. Whom he resembles.

Imagine.

Being Tianlang-jun. And the boy who helps frees you? Not the sick dog that is your son. A living manifestation of everything that went wrong, there at the end. But... a boy. Proud and honorable. With his vicious little girlfriend. Like all the parts of Su Xiyan you fell in love with, before it all fell apart.

That vicious little thing, the daughter of the man who coveted your wife. So sickened by him, she proclaims she HAS no father. Ha ha... well, now. You know what? Can't have a wedding without someone to give such a vicious little princess away! Call me, father, brat. For I have no son. Just a nephew.

Cause? Little palace mistress? Spending this whole ass time? Learning to be Less Of A Bitch... An Asshole... uuuuh, mean. She's... working on it! Okay!? It's... it's a LOT to unlearn. Her first instinct is to hit people! Sneer and insult the "rabble". She... she KNOWS better. Intellectually. But it's... it's so ingrained.

Gongyi helps. A LOT. And maybe? She makes... friends? Like... not "oh you follow me because you fear me or want Fathers power/money" but like? Actually LIKE me as a person friends! It's wild! She learns to cook... a few things.... sorta...

They didn't burn.

Gongyi ate them! So it couldn't have been THAT bad! She Cooked!! Shut UP!!!!!

She even touched a snake! And DIDN'T kill it! Even though it was gross and scared her! Gongyi caught it. And held it very still. So she could touch it with just one finger. And? Not AS gross as she thought. Not slimy at all! In fact? Surprisingly sweet. She bravely put it back in the bushes. Because they are more scared of us then we are of them!

Turns out it was a Demon, though. Who is now her brother.

Who is FAR to soft. Honestly! How he survived without her to protect him? A miracle. Surely bullied every day. General, her ASS. Hmmph! *proceeds to lovingly bully her new family, much to the approval of demons everywhere*

And like? With the lose of Protagonist statue? Comes the lose of the aura that protected him. Binghe goes FULL Bingge. Xin Mo has a FEILD DAY. It's the God damn SHINING up in this palace. Wakin up to that man standing over OC with his FUCKIN CURSED SWORD and glowing eyes in the dark, despite the fact that she barred and sealed the door with like fifteen different arrays. Not even blinking. Just... a set of red, glowing, eyes and that fucking mark.

Sweet Merciful FUCK™

Could... could you NOT? This is horrifying, dude. She'd ask if you were GOOD but... like... you're clearly NOT. Please Cease at once.

Like? Mobei-jun is regretting everything. Barely holding his lands together under this mad man. Shang Qinghua is too busy using his actually relevant "how to keep yourself alive under an unstable Demon far stronger then you" expertise for the good of his King to... you know... escape. Not that any of them COULD.

Crazy pants over here would fucking FIND them.

Ha ha.... oh god, this is hell, isn't it?

But hey! At least Mobei-jun, who isn't an idiot, is like "waaaait a second. This advice is familiar... was... was I the unstable demon?" *customer service smile* "fuck™. No Wonder you keep trying to leave and betray me. This is awful. I was a paranoid little shit of a child, I will try to do better." "I accept bribes?" "I can do bribes." "Deal, my king."

All while? Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is LOSING THEIR SHIT. Their Talismans (etc) Peak Lord? Feral. Foaming at the mouth. Where??! Is his BABY!? His PRIZED Disciple!? His PRIDE AND JOY!? Off being MOLESTED by some DEMON SCUM! Kidnapped! Absconded with!! Look at his Head Disciple! They are IN TEARS!

Shen Jiu? Seething. Should have killed the little fucker when he HAD THE CHANCE. Did he KNOW he was a demon? No. But that irrelevant! He actually LIKED that Disciple! And the beast STOLE her to do gods only knows WHAT sort of depraved things to her! We should kill him. We should kill EVERYTHING.

(He is SO CALM.)

Old Palace Master probably dragging his feet. Making this about him. Other Sect quibbling. No doubt there's a ballad about the Noble Sacrifice of Maiden Oc to stop the Dread Demon Binghe (who tricked us all). She's gonna hate it. Never be able to escape it. Everyone and their brother is gonna ASSUME shit. Where the fuck is that virginity testing sword?! He was creepy AF and trapped me in his castle! He didn't-!

Don't worry! Says local Troll, Tianlang-jun. I will take responsibility for my son's terrible, terrible crimes! By killing him and marrying you! Thus making you an honest and honorable woman! >:3 *can legit tell nothing has happened, but lives for The Drama and has over a decade to make up for*

MOTHER FUCKER!

*everyone else is losing their minds, insisting that NO, it should be one of the present Honored Cultivators. Don't Worry Oc! It's gonna be okay!* (why the FUCK do ya'll even assume she...! *Sigh* you know what? Fine. Sure. I'll deal with this later...)

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @spidori @hdgnj @leftnotright

#minji's writing #svsss #svsss au #mxtx svsss #luo binghe #scum villian self saving system #hero Gongyi Xiao #Gongyi Xiao #villian luo binghe #luo bingge #little palace mistress #gets her character growth #Tianlang-jun #everybody gets a character arc

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dubiousanon · 3 months ago

Note

More fic plots please 🥺

Title: Well, Duh (Shikamaru x Naruto)

Summary:

Shikamaru's crush on Naruto isn't anything new. It's a benign part of his life at this point—a background detail that, though constant, remains unchanging. It's never going to go anywhere. Or at least, that's what he thinks until Ino asks Naruto who his ideal type is and Shikamaru is the first person he turns to.

Notes:

-Shikamaru is down bad, because I'm incapable of making him normal, but he's kind of resigned too. He figures he and Naruto are never gonna happen. Naruto has Hinata at his back and Sasuke at his front, Shikamaru has clan duties— it was just never in the cards.

-That all changes when Ino asks Naruto what his ideal type is. Completely offhandedly and jokingly. She's just kinda prodding at him for teasing giggles.

-Instead of squinting confusedly and listing off a few broad adjectives like "pretty" or "funny" or "tall", he stares at her like she's an idiot before jerking his thumb at Shikamaru as if that should tell her everything she needs to know.

-Ino's jaw is on the floor. Shikamaru is checking over his shoulder to make sure Hinata isn't standing there like a ghost. Ino is like "Shikamaru? Shikamaru is your type?"

-Naruto is like "Uh, duh. Why're you acting surprised?"

-Naruto, who totally has a thing for Shikamaru, figured Shikamaru knew because Shikamaru knows everything. He made the leap that "Well if he knows, since he clearly does, he must be fine with it if he's still hanging out with me. He just doesn't want to make things awkward by bringing it up."

-Like no bitch. He's smart, not psychic.

-Shikamaru relentlessly pursues him going forward, with varying degrees of success. They get there eventually.

Title: The Spiral (Obito x Naruto)

Summary:

After accidentally traveling back in time, Naruto decides the safest course of action is to pose as his own father's non-shinobi brother until he can find a way back home. He absolutely can't interfere with the timeline. Sakura would totally kill him if he did. That being said, if Obito dies anyway... Bringing him to his timeline is probably the best course of action, right?

Notes:

-Fifteen year old Naruto trips, face plants on a pile of Jiraiya's seals, and poof. Suddenly he's in the past with absolutely no idea what the hell is going on.

-This is an AU where Jiraiya is more forthcoming with Naruto's origins. Naruto is more competent, particularly in the seal area, and can stand his own a bit better than he can in canon. He knows who his parents was and has some base knowledge about their history, including about his dad's genin team and their fate.

-Pretending he's not a shinobi hurts. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done. It only gets worse when Minato insists on bringing him to training, not wanting him to be alone for long periods of time, stuck inside for fear he'll interfere with something else if he goes out alone.

-He and Obito get on like a house on fire, but it's not long before Obito has that whole Uchiha obsession thing start to hit. He and Naruto are two sides of the same coin and he can't get enough. He wants to get closer, he wants to learn more, he wants everything he can get.

-Naruto knows Obito dies and lets himself get closer to him because of it. But soon feelings form and yeah, you know where this is going. They start to have a sappy teenage romance.

-Naruto eventually can't stand the thought of Obito dying and admits the truth to him as the kanabi bridge mission approaches.

-Obito lives because of it. At the same time, Naruto finds a way home. To preserve the timeline, he gives Kakashi an eye, salutes, and follows Naruto back to his time without a second of hesitation.

-Older Obito is not amused. Younger Obito is even less amused. Chaos ensues.

Title: Canine Qualities (Kakashi x Naruto)

Summary:

As soon as Naruto forms an alliance with Kurama, it's like a dozen switches get flipped in his head. Pulling off the seal unleashes a whole new slew of amplified instincts he doesn't know how to deal with. Luckily for him, he's got a teacher who has experience with this kind of thing. A teacher who smells really, really good. Like really good. Like— on second thought, maybe Naruto can figure this one out without help.

Notes:

-Naruto gets some sick new animal instincts, which is cool and all, but those instincts are telling him to jump Kakashi's bones. To be blunt.

-Kakashi has always been attractive but now it's like Naruto has noticed. He's strong, he smells great, he looks even better. Naruto goes to him for advice on how to manage his new territorial instincts and finds himself doing the Debby Ryan hair tuck instead.

-Yeah, that one.

-Kakashi is also noticing new and enticing smells and bro is resisting the forces of evil. He will not. He refuses. This won't happen to him. He can't sink this low.

-(spoiler: He will totally, he will accept, it will happen, and he will sink that low)

-Naruto is kind of too enthusiastic to resist. He doesn't see a problem here. Kakashi smells great. It's obvious he thinks Naruto smells great too. Obviously he's gonna throw himself at his.

-Kakashi eventually can't resist the xxx many pounds of hot blonde throwing himself at him and folds like a napkin in the rain.

-Doesn't help that Naruto basically takes one look at him and happily declares that they should "make out, or maybe get married or something!"

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nanacriedpower · 2 months ago

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My favorite perspective in alien stage is the religious one

I think ALNST, above everything, is a story about human nature; about how human beings will always, even if the world we know disappears and the human race has to start again, create their own god. One of the main aspects that differentiate humans from other beings is the need for something to believe in; the inherent search for a purpose. The desire to fill a role and to find roles to your fellows.

Therefore, in a context where the otherworldly brought nothing but destruction; where else would the humans find divinity but in each other?

With this in mind, I got myself wondering which religious aspect each character represents and after thinking (and rethinking) my own answers, I was able to fit each character into an archetype from abrahamic religions (specifically Catholicism, since I was raised a Catholic so it’s what I know about best). Well, there it goes:

Till: hope/light

Till represents a hope for something different, in his rebellion, he brings the message that there might be more than this, than the situation they’re currently living in. His personal resistance brings the sense of hope and enlightenment; of an awakening in some kind. Hence, for Ivan, he’s like a shooting star, bringing light in the night as he burns.

Ivan: sacrificial lamb/devotion

Once I thought Ivan might represent martyrdom, but then I realized his sacrifice was not for a cause, or to give a message. It was done out of love, yes. But it was made to save a specific person, just like the “people of god” would kill the lambs and paint the doors with its blood to save their first born. In his case, he gave himself away as a proof of love, he was, simultaneously, Abraham and his son. An offer made purely because of and out of love and devotion.

Hyuna: Martyrdom

Different from Ivan, Hyuna didn’t sacrifice herself as a proof of her love, but as a massage OF love. She lived as the promise of a “paradise” (the rebellion) and died so Luka could learn how to love. She risked her life daily to spread a message and to try and save as many as possible. Therefore she died for and because of Luka’s sins, hoping her death would be his salvation from the numbness and indifference he treated human lives with. The “Luka” we see in the show, the hints of humanity he portrays, were Hyuna’s creation; the shadow forever haunting her mind was also her creation, for her friendship with Luka resulted, indirectly, in Hyunwoo’s death; and the Luka we’ll get to see after her sacrifice is also her creation. Her suffering is for loving the “perfect performer” too much: ironically, her so flawed and imperfect design. Her death was meant to absolve him for his sins. “Forgive yourself, for my death is going to clean you. From now on, live with love”

Luka: shame/guilt

Ironically enough, Luka represents the two emotions he doesn’t seem able to feel. Luka is able to bring these two out of the deepest drawers inside anyone that comes across him. These being the most powerful tools in religion, Luka is able to control the others by reminding them of what they lost and the self blaming and loathing that come together with grief. His power is inside foreigners’ minds, for he doesn’t seem to have much of an identity when he’s alone. In his relationship with Hyuna, it becomes worse, because not only she is reminded of what she lost but because she yearns to be cradled by the same hands that ended his brother’s life, and that sends her into a spiral of guilt, shame, hatred, but also the purest form of love.

Sua: divinity

Sua’s ethereal appearance isn’t the only thing that makes her godlike. She knows and withholds the truth about the macabre game they’re inserted in(omniscience), and yet, she appears composed and flawless most of the time. She is able to earn people’s trust even when not revealing part of what she knows, she is able to shield and protect them in a way. She makes decisions that involve others, without consulting them previously because they don’t need to know all her motives. Even with the illusion of her divinity being defied by mortality, her being the first to perish in the 50th edition eternized her in a way, for she started having a certain omnipresence in the narrative.

Mizi: innocence

Mizi’s obliviousness to the reality around her made her the chosen one by her god (Sua). The purity that comes from her innocence makes her able to live and love fully, being completely honest in every single aspect. Mizi hadn’t been corrupted by the fruit of awareness, therefore, temporarily she’s still living in paradise being the ANAKT her own Eden. That illusion ended in My Clematis, when she first had a philosophical realization: god is dead. ————-

I’d also like to point out, although each character has their own development and individuality, it is impossible to treat them as “their own person” in alien stage. Narratively, this is a story about human relationships and the characters existences are inherent to each other. For this reason, you might have noticed every single analysis has characters mentioned other than the main subject. Alien Stage’s dynamic of storytelling is in duos, “a la comedia del arte”. I’m adding this as a late disclaimer because I’ve seen a lot of misused “therapy speak” on this fandom and I can already hear the “they don’t depend on each other 👺👺👺” comments. They do. Humans are inherently social and we all depend on each other, which is maximalized in a universe where each other is pretty much (literally and existentially) all they have.

If I get any “they’re all toxic” comment people are getting blocked, not because they’re objectively wrong but this is the dumbest and more superficial way of analyzing the characters’ dynamics (in my humble opinion) and no one is about to piss me off on my own phone

thank you for coming to my ted talk🫃🏼

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calina-alda · 4 months ago

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what are ur leon headcanons…..

Leon S. Kennedy Headcanons

• Falls in love too easily, too hard

Leon doesn’t fall in love in a casual way. He’s just got this aching need to connect. A soft heart in a harsh world.

• Keeps to himself, not because he wants to be alone, but because he’s scared

Leon wants to be close to people, but he's terrified of losing them. He's lost too much already. So he keeps people at a distance, pretends he prefers solitude, but the truth is, he’s lonely.

• Can’t sleep in silence

The quiet gets too loud. His thoughts spiral, what ifs, regrets, things he should’ve said or done differently. So he listens to music, a podcast, the soft hum of city noise, something to fill the silence and anchor him to the now.

• Leon loves being the little spoon

The second someone wraps their arms around him from behind, he goes quiet and soft, like all his tension just disappears. You hold him? He’s not moving. You’re stuck. He will cling back like a sleepy koala. Because no one ever really held him first. And now that someone does? He never wants to let it go.

• Sleeps like a starfish on the bed

He’s lanky and somehow ends up diagonally across the mattress, one leg off the bed, blanket tangled like he fought it. If someone tries to share a bed with him, they’ll wake up clinging to the edge while Leon is dead asleep like a corpse in a crime scene outline.

• Panick attacks

He’s learned to mask them, deep breaths, gripping his own wrist hard enough to ground himself, counting things he can see, pretending he’s fine. But sometimes, when it gets too much, he disappears for a moment. No one really knows. He doesn’t want to be a burden

• Sings to himself when no one’s listening

Especially when he is cooking. He knows he’s corny, but he doesn’t care. There’s something healing about singing.

• Leon is 1000% a girl dad

Learned how to braid hair immediately. Watched tutorials. Practiced on a Barbie. Wears tiny glitter stickers on his face because “she wanted to make me pretty.” Goes to tea parties in full tactical gear. Sits criss-cross applesauce on the floor like a champ. Gives the softest bedtime cuddles, tells stories with voices and sound effects, falls asleep before she does. Lets her paint his nails and struts around showing them off like “check these out. She did them. She’s an artist.”

• Kind of a loser growing up

He was that quiet kid in the back of the class with the scuffed-up shoes and secondhand backpack. Shy, awkward, always hoping someone would talk to him first. No one really bullied him, but no one really saw him either.

• Uses zero products, has the silkiest hair

It’s the universe’s way of saying sorry for everything else. No conditioner, no hair masks, nothing, and yet, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial. His coworkers are bitter.

• Still keeps every letter and note Claire ever gave him

He says it’s because she’s like a sister, but really, it’s because those notes reminded him he wasn’t alone. That someone cared. He re-reads them on bad nights. They’re a lifeline.

• Says “ow” even when things don’t hurt

He can get thrown across a room, stabbed, dropkicked through a window, and he’ll just grunt like “hnng.” Not even a flinch. But bangs his elbow lightly? “Ow.” Drops keys on his foot? “Ow.” Bumps into a chair? “Ow.” It’s a reflex.

• Affectionate Drunk Leon (Before the Trauma)

One drink in and he was hugging everyone, calling them his best friend, and complimenting strangers with wide, honest eyes. He’d lean on people and say things like “You’re so cool, you know that?” with a sleepy smile. After everything that happened, he stopped letting himself get that vulnerable. But every now and then, like when he's with Claire, bits of that old Leon come back.

• Talks to inanimate objects constantly

Full-on conversations. “Okay, fridge, what have we got?” or “Don’t betray me, coffee machine. I need you.”

• Kind to strangers in quiet ways

He holds the door open, carries groceries for old ladies, helps a lost tourist without a second thought.

• Teenage Leon danced hip-hop in high school (it canon, idk)

Ever since I had that dream of Leon dancing to NSYNC on Claire's wedding, it’s canon in head. Not like… professional or anything. But he was so into it. Baggy hoodie, sneakers, cropped shirt, headphones in, dancing in empty hallways after class or in front of his cracked bedroom mirror.

(Btw I am still considering turning this into a oneshot, lol)

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #leon s kennedy

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apricustar · 3 months ago

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when it comes down to it, when you're really, truly in love, it's about stepping into their life and everything that comes with that--mess and all.

this is the undeniable truth laying the foundation of buddie--the undeniable truth they've woven throughout all the current canon couples. it's a ribbon that's threaded through both buck and eddie's respective list of failed relationships.

in a lot of ways, love is an unfolding—not an undoing, but an unfurling: the slow, achingly tender process of being known, and knowing in turn. it’s feeling safe enough to open yourself up entirely. to love and be loved is to be at rest, at peace; it is not a performance or something you perfect. it is allowing someone to witness your pain, your chaos, your history—and not turning away when they do the same.

take maddie and chimney: from the very beginning, he doesn’t flinch at the weight she carries—doesn’t try to fix it or rush it. he simply stays. he isn’t swayed by the shadow of doug—not even when the shadow becomes far more real. he meets her where she’s at, even when all she has to offer him is friendship. he never asks her to be more than she can give. he’s there—consistent, dependable, loving in his safety and presence. she takes a step, he is right there, taking his cues from her; from everything she says, and everything she doesn’t.

so much of bobby and athena’s love is rooted in mutual understanding, in the depth of the pasts they carry, but i think one of their most raw moments comes when we learn about athena’s ex-fiancé. we know athena to be a powerhouse: independent, fierce, and capable. she gets shit done on her own. she is her own partner. and we see bobby struggle a bit with fitting into that space—with finding his footing in a relationship where the other person doesn’t naturally lean on him. but bobby? bobby doesn’t try to force his way in. his love is in his patience; similar to chim, it’s in his dependable nature and consistent presence. he waits, he listens, he offers himself; and knowing athena as he does, he gives her what he knows she needs even when she herself can’t, or won’t, ask for it. when the case is finally solved, it’s bobby she goes to, whose arms she breaks down in. there’s is an intimacy born from quiet knowing and learning. love, here, is not about rescuing—it’s about witnessing. and staying.

karen and hen!!! again, so many different moments i could bring up. but the one i thought of while first thinking about this post was when we get the background of their relationship—specifically with denny. when hen tells karen she didn’t say no to eva, karen leaves; not because she doesn’t love hen, but because she isn’t ready for the gravity of that choice, for the responsibility that comes with it. and still, when all is said and done, she comes back. love isn’t linear. there isn’t always a clear-cut answer to things. karen returns, ready to choose all of hen, not just the easy parts. and in doing so, they build something solid. they co-parent. they raise denny. they navigate life together, as partners.

so, buddie. what’s wild is that this exact pattern—the showing up, the choosing, the stepping into the mess—it’s been baked in since day one. it is an integral facet of their entire relationship!!!!!!!! from the moment buck helped save the guy with a bomb in his leg during eddie’s first shift, they have each other’s backs. without fault, without expectation.

this is truly set in motion when buck gives carla to eddie. he bears witness to eddie’s problems with finding childcare and doesn’t hesitate to step in and offer a solution that is deeply personal to him. carla isn’t just a recommendation—she’s someone buck trusts, someone who supported him through his own mess. and he hands that over to eddie, because that’s what buck does. he sees a need and he fills it. he steps into the chaos, into the overwhelm, and with his actions says: you don’t have to do this alone.

and eddie accepts it!!! not just carla—but buck’s presence. his help. his heart. and from there, it builds on both sides. not in grand, sweeping gestures, but in steady, consistent moments of being there. of knowing each other’s silences. of anticipating needs. of showing up. of existing together in life’s most happy and sad and scary and terrible moments and knowing being together is better than doing any of this shit alone.

over the course of 7 seasons, they’ve built a life around one another without ever needing to define it. and isn’t that the most honest kind of love? the kind that just is, because you’ve chosen each other so fully, so completely, that no other reality makes sense?

this isn’t subtext. it’s not speculation. it’s the same emotional blueprint we’ve seen over and over in canon couples: vulnerability, mutual care, mess, and the willingness to stay anyway. and buck and eddie? they’re already living it!!!

and that’s why it feels inevitable. because the show has always told us that real love is about staying through the hard stuff, about choosing someone every single day, especially when it’s not easy. love is partnership—being there through it all and helping one another heal. it’s a willingness to hold space for each other’s vulnerability; a willingness to grow and learn together.

like thomas told buck back in season 2, a real love is not something you found, but something you made. buck and eddie have been making it all along.

#GEEZ #i have no idea if anyone will read this #but listen i have been awake since 5:30 this morning SIGH #i went to work!!! i went to several classes!!! i did lots of studying!!! i went shopping for groceries!! i braved walking in the heat today #but this hit me last night and i made a messy note so i wouldn’t forget #and then when i finally got in bed a bit ago i was like no i can’t sleep #it wouldn’t leave me #so now i have this monster stream of consciousness #BUT IIII #yeah i needed to get this out #god i am sick they make me sick???#blast mess is mine vance joy that is their SONGGGGG #i love that song and i love my buddie playlist god #i can’t i can’t im also so scared for tomorrow someone hold my hand #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 rambling.#911 #911 abc #buddie #karen wilson #hen wilson #chimney han #maddie buckley #buddiemaxxing #love

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moonlitcelestial · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 18

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x OT8 Ateez

W/C 12,065

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾

Inspiration Pictures

Pinterest Board Masterlist

Previous Chapter (Chapter 17)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer. This story will follow several of the events that Ateez has done in the past year for Golden Hour Part 2, that being said I will not be able to include everything.

Contains she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures and the Pinterest boards linked above (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: cussing, conflict, angst, fluff, and obliviousness.

CHAPTER WARNINGS - Cuteness

Let me know what you think! <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

You had played all of their songs that you knew and had moved on to showcase the other things you had under your belt. Some of the things you played were mashups flowing into several pieces without stopping, some movie soundtracks and some more classical pieces. Most of the time Hongjoong was sitting as close to you as he possibly could without interrupting your flow of music. That was until you decided to play something you knew would get them riled up. You started the notes of one of your favorite Stray Kids songs Back Door. As soon as Wooyoung recognized the tune he started yelling and marching over to you.

“Yah! Yah! None of that!” He grabbed your wrists from over your shoulders and you held back your giggle.

“Y/n-nie, No playing other oppa’s songs you should know better.” You turned to look at Hongjoong and he was surveying you like a predator would.

“They're not my oppas,” you snarked looking up at Wooyoung who was practically glued to your back. He was looking at you and you could see the twinkle of mischief behind his dark eyes.

“Yah, Y/n-nie” you heard Yunho from behind you and Wooyoung.

“Yes?”

“Don’t be a smartass.” You let out the laughter that was sitting in the back of your throat.

“I’m being truthful,” you said between giggles “they aren’t my oppas if I am older than every one of them.”

“Even Chan?” You heard Seonghwa ask from the corner of the couch he was perched against.

“Yes, even Chan.” You responded with a small huff. “Besides it's not like I am having an affair” you muttered under your breath. Only Hongjoong caught it and clicked his tongue at you. He knew exactly what you were doing now.

“Don’t be a brat Y/n-nie” You moved your eyes to look at him and his dark look was enough to shut you up about it. You nodded and Wooyoung released his hold on your wrists before making his way back to where he was on the couch.

“Jagi?” You turned yourself around on the bench to look at San who was sitting with his arm around Yeosang on the green couch.

“Yeah Sannie?”

“How did you learn all of these songs without having the sheet music?” Most of the eyes fell toward you with curiosity in their gazes. Hongjoong and Mingi both seemed particularly interested in the answer you were about to give.

“I have a penchant for being able to play things by ear, my Granny also taught me some techniques, I also may have inherited perfect pitch from her as well. Really it's a toss up between that having a little over fifteen years of experience playing, and being around a pianist for longer than that. I actually used to fall asleep best when I listened to piano music, or just music in general.

“Wait, so you can hear something and know exactly where it is on the piano?” Seonghwa asked while looking between you and Hongjoong. He must have been able to do the same.

“Pretty much,” you shrugged and looked over to Hongjoong who was smiling at you.

“So the intro from Ice on My teeth is something you could do without having music if I sang it for you?”

“Yeah, that's something I can do, ninety percent of the time I just listen to the song and learn as it plays anyway.” San got up from his comfortable position with Yeosang and was immediately replaced by Beans. He came closer to the piano and sat on the seat Hongjoong occupied a few minutes before. He started singing the intro to Ice on My Teeth, you briefly wondered if it had been stuck in his head and he wanted to get it out. As soon as he finished you looked at the keys of the piano.

“Can you do it again?” He hummed it again and you immediately went to the notes and played the small intro.

“Wahh,” You looked over your shoulder to see Mingi grinning at you. He seemed to be utterly entranced by you if the sparkle in his eye was anything to go by. Your eyes swept over the other boys and they were all wearing small smiles.

Turning back to the piano you caught Hongjoong’s stare. The brown in his eyes was deep and entrancing, he really tended to speak with his eyes. The way the lights twinkled in them was like stars; which is becoming one of your favorite sights. It made you happy that you could see this unguarded part of him, one that wasn't afraid to look at everyone in the room with absolute adoration; even you.

You turned back to the piano with a blush at the intense eye contact you had initiated. Smiling down at the keys you briefly wondered what spending all of your time like this would be like, not having to worry about the responsibilities of the rest of the world. You felt a hand on your chin, it gently brought you to look at Hongjoong. He was smiling at you, which made your heart absolutely melt; he was so beautiful like this. He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. You felt the pace of your heart pick up and the blush rush to your face; you couldn't stop the grin from spreading across your face as well. You tried to look down again but the hand on your chin quickly stopped you by tightening just a little. He kept eye contact with you until you remembered the polaroid folio you had stashed in your bag upstairs. You let out a noise of excitement before jumping up out of his grip and running out of the room and up the stairs leaving behind eight very confused men who followed you up. You took the stairs two at a time to get to your duffle in your room. You grabbed it and started rooting around, pulling out the black tennis ball you set it aside on the bookshelf. Digging farther you finally felt the edges of it. You made a squeal of triumph and did a small dance before getting up and making your way back down the stairs. All of the boys were standing in the great room watching you as you came down the stairs.

“Come on, let's go to the nook, I have something I want to share with you!” You grabbed the closest boy to you which happened to be Yeosang as you rushed past them. He let out a noise of surprise as you started dragging him toward the nook. Settling a large pillow behind you, you opened your arms and made grabby hands at them. Yeosang was watching you with an amused smile before he cuddled up to your left side followed shortly by Wooyoung on your right. San settled himself by Yeosang and Jongho was by Wooyoung. Mingi grabbed Seonghwa’s hand and led him to settle by Jongho. Both of them leaned on each other while Yunho and Hongjoong did the same on the other side. Each of them was making themselves comfortable leaning on each other; making one giant cuddle pile.

“So, y’know that I had my polaroid and was taking pictures during the MV,” They nodded their heads at you. “Do you guys want to see them?” (Polaroid reference Pics this is only some of them) They immediately burst into excited chatter, Wooyoung was speaking so quickly next to you that you couldn't quite understand him.

You opened the polaroid book to the first picture of your team, all of them had seen that one so you just moved past it. The next picture was the one you got of Seonghwa standing next to a lamp in his resistance outfit. Taking it out of the folio you handed it to Hongjoong and he gently took it before smiling widely. All of the boys craned to see the picture he was holding out.

“I didn't even see you get that! It looks so cool!” You smiled at Seonghwa who was looking at the picture closely. Hongjoong tried to hand it back to you but you shook your head at him, he reluctantly kept it whilst trying to hide a smile. Turning the page you went to the next picture which was the first group shot. You handed around the folio and watched with a smile as they almost fought over it. Mingi and Yunho were exchanging kicks at each other like four year olds while Seonghwa and Hongjoong tried to avoid their flailing limbs. Once the folio made it back to you you went to the next picture. This one was one you snickered at before taking it out and handing it to San. Wooyoung missed it entirely until it made its way back around again.

“Yah! What's this?! Why did you take this?.” He hid himself in his hands at the picture of him squatting in front of the mirror taking selfies. Everyone was laughing and the picture made it back to San who, like Hongjoong, tried to give it back to you which you wouldn't accept. He smiled at you and squeezed your leg in appreciation. The next picture was the one you caught at the end of the day of Hongjoong. You took this one out and handed it to Seonghwa who burst into loud laughter. All of the boys were interested to see what the eldest was clutching to his chest. Once he recovered he showed everyone and Hongjoong was trying to hide from embarrassment at the superman pose.

“How were you quick enough to even catch that? I only did it for a second!” He almost wailed.

“Photographers lightning quick reflexes Joongie. I’m good at what I do for a reason.” You smiled back.

Seonghwa looked at you before tilting his head in a silent question if it was for him. You nodded to him and looked back down at the folio. The next two were from the sitting group shot. You took one of them out and handed it around the group. They all started a yelling match to fight over it; you could see the smirk on Hongjoong’s face as he pulled the I'm the captain card. Mingi reluctantly handed it to him and you snickered at his pout. The next one you had in the folio was one that you caught of Jongho. You handed the little book around the group and all of them cooed at the maknae at how good looking he was holding the pocket watch. You joined in and by the time it got back to you his face was beet red from the compliments.

Turning the page you got to the ones that made you fawn over Mingi; and his hands. You took one of the two shots and handed it to Yunho, who looked at you in shock. You laughed at his expression and he almost kept it to himself without letting the rest of the boys see it. That earned him a small smack on the leg from Hongjoong. As soon as he handed it off the boys were freaking out about how hot Mingi looked staring at the camera putting the ring on. You were glad you kept one because you knew they would have fought you over it. Yunho made a show of tucking it away and you snickered before moving on. As you flipped the page you realized this one was after you gave Aurora the polaroid. You took in the picture, it was a close up from behind you while you filmed Mingi dropping the lighter. You were grinning and Wooyoung snatched the folio from you because you were taking too long.

“Wahh that's an amazing shot! Look at our treasure getting a video of our princess!” He handed the folio around to the rest of the boys who were smiling at you. You made a mental note to do something for Aurora as the folio got back to you. Turning the page you saw a cute picture of you and Jongho side hugging. You handed the book to Yeosang who was smiling at the picture. As it made the way around the circle the poor maknae was being teased again.

“Yah, you don't like affection but it's okay from her?” Wooyoung pouted as he received the folio. You held back the laughter bubbling up your throat at his expression.

“She doesn't push my buttons every second of every day like you do, and she asked before touching me.” He sniped back. Wooyoung looked up at you and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I'm just his favorite.” Most of the other boys made noises of complaint at the comment. You looked to Jongho who was smiling at you, he gave you a small nod which made you grin even wider. Snatching back the folio from Wooyoung, who was holding it hostage, you turned to the next page. This one had to have been one of your favorites, it was a shot similar to the one with Mingi. You were in the foreground of the picture and Yunho was in the background with his head tilted back, the flames were outlining your silhouette and making him glow. You had half a mind to skip this one so they wouldn't try to take it but Yeosang had already seen it and was absolutely enamored by it. Which prompted San to reach over him and take it from you. Hongjoong and Yunho both leaned over to inspect the picture. Yunho was immediately a blushing mess as San and Joongie complimented him. The folio got passed around and all of the boys were amazed by it. Mingi tried to take it out of the folio but you grabbed it before he could.

As you turned to the next page you were met with the funniest picture of all of them so far. You threw your head back as you burst into laughter and clutched the book to your chest. All of the boys were wearing puzzled looks at your outburst. When you recovered you handed it around and all of them were pouting and protesting at the looks on their faces in the picture. Aurora had captured the moment you picked up the Tinkerbell moth, each of them were either staring at you with shock, disgust or awe. As soon as you had the book back you knew this one was getting stashed in your wallet. Flipping the page you were met with another comical picture. This time you snickered and handed the folio to Wooyoung who you knew would tease Seonghwa.

“Yah, Hwa hyung did noona embarrass you?” He jested holding out the picture. You were withholding one of your business cards from a very red faced Seonghwa. It must have been after you called him pretty. All of the rest of the boys burst into laughter as they inspected the picture. Seonghwa was absolutely mirroring the red face of the picture right now. When it made it back to you you flipped to the next one and your jaw dropped. Aurora must have either gotten in the water with you or was at the very edge of the fountain. You were in the bottom of the picture squatting getting the recording of the boys walking across in front of the flame. Jongho gently took the folio from you and exclaimed at the amazing picture. All of the other boys straightened and started squirming to see the picture. As soon as they saw it they all started bickering to see if they could get the picture. Hongjoong looked toward you and immediately knew you would want to keep this one. He snatched the folio from Yunho, who was being the most vocal about wanting it, and handed it back to you.

Flipping to the next page you were met with a very similar picture, only this time it was of you laying in the pool with the boys walking and Mr Song standing with his phone out recording you. You gasped and dropped the booklet out of shock before immediately picking it back up and investigating it closer. Moving your glasses out of the way you brought the photo as close to your face as it could get without distorting it; which ended up being only just beyond your nose. This time around the boys let you take in the picture before taking it from you.

“I can't believe she caught this, I am totally going to have to do something for her now.” Running a hand down your face, you readjusted your thick framed glasses over your face. You handed the book to Yeosang after fixing your glasses where you wanted them.

“What's that our treasure?” Hongjoong held his hand out to see the folio. San handed it to him and he inspected it closely like you did.

“Mr. Song was recording me in that picture. He actually posted a video of me stating how dedicated I was, it went viral within the photographer and videographer communities, and I am sure throughout some of the modeling and kpop companies with how much he has done.” All of the boys looked up to you and were wearing large smiles, you could feel Wooyoung wiggling around like he was trying to suppress the urge to bounce around. Just when you thought he had it under control he practically tackled you into Yeosang. He was hugging you so tightly you let out a breathless laugh.

“ ‘M so proud of you my rose.” He murmured to you, squeezing you even tighter. You wrapped your arms around him the best you could and Yeosang wrapped himself around the both of you giving you a gentle squeeze. Very few people told you that they were proud of you, it struck something deep in your chest hearing it; especially from someone who means so much to you.

“We are all proud of you Kkulbeol (Honeybee)” He left a kiss on the top of your head. Wooyoung squeezed you one more time which prompted a squeak out of you before letting you go and straightening up. As the picture made its way around the group you couldn't help but to smile at everyone who was as invested in this as you.

When Wooyoung handed it back to you, you flipped the page and immediately melted. You looked back up to all of your boyfriends before looking back down at the folio. You knew they had seen this one as they were the stars of it; Aurora must have handed the polaroid to them immediately after you went to change. All of them were in their MV outfits holding out finger hearts and beaming for the picture. At the bottom of the picture in the small white space was a heart with Ateez written next to it in what looked like Hongjoong’s handwriting. You looked back up to the smiling men and back down to the picture. This might be tattoo material down the line. You tried to say something but all of the thoughts flew out of your head as soon as you saw the picture, the butterflies had also made a rapid return to your stomach. Yeosang and Wooyoung were smiling at you while they leaned closer. Seonghwa leaned over Mingi and Jongho and gently took the folio from you. He held out the picture to show everyone and all of them immediately understood. Without any words having to be exchanged you moved onto the next picture.

This one was definitely one that would receive a lot of teasing. You took the spare out of the folio and handed it to Wooyoung. As soon as he caught sight of what it was he dramatically swooned while clutching it to his chest. Jongho had to practically wrench it from his hands and immediately went red at the picture of San sitting pretty and shirtless in his fur coat holding his barley tea. Shortly after he handed it off to Mingi.

“So hot,” Seonghwa murmured to himself while leaning to look at the picture with Mingi. You burst into laughter and looked at San who didn't realize it was him just yet. When it made it around to San he immediately flushed red and was waving his hands out in front of him trying to stop the teasing compliments. You flipped to the next page and showcased the next picture of him hanging from the chandelier. All of them immediately teased more, San was absolutely red faced, he was hiding from all of you by the end of the giggle fest.

The next one you flipped to was of Mingi standing in front of the large mural and looking like a god. You took the spare out and handed it around the group. As soon as Yunho got it he claimed it. You turned the page and were met with the pictures of Hongjoong squatting in front of the statues with that horrendous bow. You took one of the two out of the folio and handed it around.

“Yknow, that bow was absolutely atrocious.” You said as the picture made it to Hongjoong. He looked up at you with a smile and his eyebrows raised. Some of the other boys started snickering at the brash words.

“The only thing I could think of while you were wearing it was if I could get away with pulling you closer to me with it to kiss you.” Fuck why did you say that. The rest of the boys burst into bigger laughter while some of them agreed with you. Hongjoong’s face flushed while he looked down at the picture before handing it off to Seonghwa who was the last to see it. When it made it into Seonghwa’s hands he tucked it away with the other picture he had.

“You were thinking of him like that before you even were in a relationship with us,” you turned to look at Yeosang who was smirking at you. You felt the heat rush to your face and you immediately sunk into yourself away from him and into Wooyoung who was cackling. You tried to make yourself as small and hidden as you could behind Wooyoung.

“You had a crush on us,” Wooyoung teased, leaning back onto you. His entire body was shaking with his laughter.

“Shut the fuck up,” You got out from behind him so he couldn't lean on you any farther. Bringing your knees up closer to your chest you crossed your arms and let out a huff. San was the one to reach out to you and squish your cheeks as you pouted. You smacked his hand away and glared at him. The rest of the boys burst into laughter and started cooing at your embarrassment. You started moving to get up so you could leave. Just as you were scooting to the edge of the nook you were blocked by Yunho and Seonghwa; who were stretched out across the bottom of the large bed. An arm wrapped itself around your middle and yanked you back to your previous spot.

“You can dish it but you can't take it can you?” Yeosang was close to your shoulder as he asked. You chose not to dignify him with an answer, in choosing to do so all of the boys cooed at you again and got as close as they could to you. You started trying to push them away from you at one point you shoved Wooyoung’s face away from you while he was making kissy noises at you.

“She's so cute when she's flustered, we should do this more often.” Your head whipped around to look at Yunho. If looks could kill, he would be a dead man. His smile was cute but it held a little bit of menace behind it. The butterflies in your stomach were having an absolute field day, it almost was enough to make you nauseous.

“Alright I think she's had enough.” You glanced at Hongjoong who was watching you. He was holding out the folio that had gotten moved around in the commotion. You gently took it from him and opened it to your previous spot. The next picture you had forgotten about. You took the spare out of the folio with a snicker at the sight of a silly photo making you feel just a little better. Yunho immediately started laughing at his own expense when it got to him. The picture was of him while he was trying to be a mime behind the picture fame. Mingi snatched the picture from the last person who had it and kept it. You grinned at him and moved on. Yeosang’s pictures with the chandelier were next, you took the extra out and handed it to Jongho. His face immediately lit up and he tried to gatekeep it. With a light smack from Seonghwa he shared the picture. All of the boys were complimenting Yeosang who was hiding his face in your shoulder. You looked down at him and could see the red on the tips of his ears. Leaving a kiss on the back of his head you continued. The next ones were some of your favorites, just because of how Seonghwa was posed; and because he was iconic. Taking the more candid of the two out you handed it to San first. You knew he absolutely loved this kind of style. His eyes immediately went wide as he took in the picture of Seonghwa sitting on the car in his heels with his cute man bun.

As it made its way around the group most of the other boys were complaining about the pain of heels and how they don't know how Seonghwa does it. He responded with a smile and a shrug. You knew Mingi’s pictures were next, his form was perfectly silhouetted while he was standing on top of the car. All of the boys made noises protesting him standing on top of the car which was met by a laugh from you. They were expressing the thoughts you suppressed while he was actually doing it. He was smiling and giggling at the teasing remarks from the rest of the boys. After the teasing fest you flipped to the next page and smiled at the picture of Jongho standing next to the piano. Yeosang snatched the picture from you which shocked you as he had been fairly calm the entire time. Turning to look at him he was smiling at the picture and tried to keep the other boys from taking it from him. Wooyoung had reached over you and gave him a smack, holding his hand out expectantly.

“Be nice,” if Yeosang wasn't going to stand up for himself you would have to do it for him, he was too sweet for his own good. The rest of the boys started ooing at Wooyoung like children after you lightly scolded him. He looked at you like a kicked puppy and you pinched his cheek. He tried to smack your hand away but you were quicker to pull away which resulted in a smack to himself. Yeosang let out a snort and you snickered as well. The picture finally made its rounds and most of the boys were babying Jongho. The maknae was hiding himself on Mingi’s shoulder as the picture made it back to Yeosang. Flipping the page you were surprised to find this picture. Aurora had a penchant for knowing when to pull at your heartstrings. The picture was of you playing the piano in front of the boys who were all leaning against it. You could see some of the people in the background who had frozen in time while you played. Tearing your eyes away from the picture you handed it around.

The boys were thoroughly inspecting the picture of you. Turning to take each of them in you let a small smile worm its way onto your face. Yeosang was just leaning on you content, as was Wooyoung. San was laying on Yeosang’s hip as he laid down, Hongjoong was leaning on his arm on San. Yunho was laying with his head on Hongjoong’s stretched out legs; Seonghwa was doing the same with Mingi. Jongho was sitting close to Wooyoung but mostly leaning on Mingi. All of them were just smiling and radiating happiness.

When the polaroid booklet made it back to you you turned the page to see Yunho’s beginning shots with the sucker. This one you knew they would fight over so you handed it to Yunho first. His responding smile was contagious and sent shivers down your spine. As it made the rounds the boys were loudly debating who would get the photo, but what they didn't notice was Jongho tucking it away. He held eye contact with you and held up his finger to his lips, you nodded and started to move on. When you flipped to the next picture you smiled adoringly at the one shot you got of Yeosang covering his blushing face with the tennis racket. You showed it to him first and he suppressed a smile and hid himself in your shoulder.

“The director complimented him and this is what happened.” you handed it to San after he hid from you. As soon as he had it in his hands he started smacking Yeosang. His cuteness aggression was in full force while looking at one of the most bashful members caught in the picture. When the other boys saw it they started cooing at an embarrassed Yeosang, who was digging his head farther into your shoulder like you could absorb him.

“That is all of the ones I have, plus the ones you guys got when I was taking them.”

“Y/n-nie?” you turned to look at Yunho, “Thank you for sharing these with us, we really love that you did this for us.”

“Yuyu, I loved being able to do this for all of you. It brings me immense happiness to be able to bring anyone joy. It's part of why I chose this job. For me it’s not about the pictures or videos I capture. It is the memories that are beyond the lens.” Looking over all of their faces they were watching you with an intense sense of understanding. You could see a lot of what they do in what you do. Creating to inspire.

“Do you ever look at a picture and think back to what was happening then and what led up to it?” They nodded at you and some of them looked at the polaroids they were holding onto. “That's what I strive to invoke, the emotions connected to the pictures and videos. That's what I did today with these pictures. I evoked all of your happy memories leading up to the pictures and helped you create ones after showing you them.”

“You are something else Y/n you know that?” Smiling down at yourself you made your hands busy with the folio to keep from picking at your nails. Having this much attention on you could be pretty nerve wracking. Wooyoung squeezed your arm a couple of times for comfort. All of them were watching you with smiles, as soon as you met their eyes they were satisfied you were okay and pulled out their phones. You pulled yours out from the pocket of your dress and checked it. There were a few emails from some people that you had been conferring with about traveling to help with their model shoots or commercials. Those emails were something you could deal with later when you got back into the office. You also had to plan for the trip you were going to be taking the day after Yeosang’s birthday.

“Oh, I forgot to mention, the day after Sangie’s birthday I have to go on a business trip for about a week and a half to France for Mens Fashion Week.” You didn't even look up from your phone while you confirmed the booking of your hotel.

“You're going to Men's Fashion Week?” You looked up at Hongjoong who all but threw his phone at your words.

“Yeah,” you tilted your head at him. “A few of the brands I have worked with are requesting my presence for some of their photoshoots and shows. Specifically for the Comme des Garcons Homme Plus Show, I've been working with them for a couple of years now.” His eyes got wider if that was even possible. Seonghwa was laughing in earnest now at your confused look.

“I'm going to that show! I was invited as a VIP!” He was almost shouting with excitement.

“Really now?” You let a grin worm its way onto your face.

“Shutterbug!” his large smile was contagious and had made it across most of the other boys’ faces; yours just got wider.

“Songbird!” You raised your eyebrows at him, he was bouncing around and Yunho was laughing at how much he was making him move. You got up and stood to walk off the mattress of the nook making sure to carefully avoid the limbs of the other boys. As soon as you made it off the nook you stood there looking at him with a tilt of your head. He took the hint and clamored over Yunho to throw himself at you with excitement. You wrapped your arms around him and laughed as you steadied yourself.

“I get to see you in your element! I'm so excited!” He separated himself from you and settled his hands on top of your shoulders, slightly shaking you.

“I can tell Songbird, but you have already seen me in my element plenty, I literally basically work for you at this point.” He made a noise of disgust before rolling his eyes.

“You don't work for us you work with us there is a huge difference. I meant in your element like you not focusing on us.”

“Ohh, I see. Either way I'm excited too! I can't wait to see your outfit for the show, I'm sure it will be amazing.” He was absolutely beaming at you at the mention of the outfits he would be wearing.

“It's going to be interesting for sure, of course if you are wearing what you normally wear I am sure we will be almost matching.” That was an odd thing to mention.

“What is it that I normally wear, Joongie?” You already knew the answer, you just wanted to mess with him a bit. His eyes widened and his face turned a cute shade of pink at your teasing question.

He took his hands off your shoulders and started waving them in front of him to make sure you understood that he didn't mean to offend you in any way. “I mean like if you wear your black formal clothes like when we first met ‘cause it is more of a professional setting you know? Or just black in general like you normally do.” You let out a small snicker at his rambling and heard a few snorts of laughter behind you.

You cupped his cheeks in an effort to calm him slightly, “Joongie, I’m just messing with you. Generally photographers wear all black when they are out for shoots anyway.” He let out a sigh and closed his eyes leaning into your touch. You smiled at him and left a kiss on his forehead before stepping away and moving back to the large cuddle pile on the nook. He followed shortly after you and let Yunho cuddle up to him again.

All of you were content just laying out on the large expanse of the nook. Some of the boys were just scrolling on their phones and others were petting the giants who had made their way around. Mocha was laying on your legs while Yeosang and Wooyoung were leaning on your shoulders watching TikTok videos with you. Before too long you ran across Aurora’s repost of the video of you that Mr. Song took. She captioned the video ‘The dedication is unreal VisionsbyOnyx, kqentertainment, Ateez_Official_’ with a large amount of hashtags. She had only reposted the video a few minutes ago. You liked and reposted the video before two boys leaning on you could quite register what it was.

“Yah! Is that you?!” Wooyoung inquired loudly next to you, which startled the rest of the men surrounding you.

“Yeah that’s me, and there’s you and the rest of the boys,” Yeosang gently grabbed your hand and brought the phone closer to his face to watch the video again. His face broke into a smile and he looked up at you adoringly.

“Let me see! Let me see!” San was reaching toward you making grabby hands at your phone. You chuckled and gave it to him.

“Wahh Jagi! This is so amazing!” He beamed as he showed the video to Yunho and Hongjoong. Both of them lit up as they watched the video.

“Don’t gate keep it! We want to see too,” Mingi was motioning wildly with his hands at Hongjoong who had your phone. He rolled his eyes and handed it over.

“Our Treasure! That’s so cool! I still can't believe that you laid in a pool of water to get that shot!” Seonghwa was smiling as he kept watching the video.

“It’s part of my job to get the shots no matter what. Remind me one of these days and I will show you the pictures I got while I was strapped into the back of a moving car for some of my motorcycle and car shoots.” (Here is a reference of the kind of photography I am thinking Bellakshoots)

“Wait what? You did what?” Your gaze fell to Hongjoong’s shocked one. All of the boys were looking at you like you were absolutely nuts.

“I've done many miscellaneous and slightly dangerous shoots especially during my college days when no one had the balls to do it.”

“You have to show us those soon!” Yunho was smiling at you as the words flew out of his mouth.

“I will, It is a lot though so we might have to carve out a day to do it.”

“Deal!” He and Wooyoung responded in unison. They both looked at each other and started giggling. You shook your head at them and motioned for your phone back. Jongho gently gave it to you and you resumed doom scrolling. Most of the other boys had resumed what they were doing and all of them had some kind of contact with you, either a hand on you or laying on your legs; whatever they could get. The warmth of everyone and the tiredness from all of the excitement of the day was finally starting to wear on you. Your eyelids were getting droopy and you tried so hard to stay awake but you couldn’t.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

“They’re asleep.” When the words were whispered by San everyone turned to look at where you, Wooyoung, and Yeosang were huddled together. Your head was leaning back against the window and the boys were slumped against your shoulders. Your phone was softly playing a photography video over and over again. Yunho got up and the rest followed quietly and gently to make sure not to disturb you guys. As soon as all of the boys extracted themselves San and Jongho shifted you three to be actually laying down instead of leaning at an uncomfortable angle. Seonghwa grabbed one of the blankets that was in the large basket and covered all of you, even Mocha, who seemed content enough to start purring as soon as it was over her.

“I know we haven’t known her for very long but it feels like I have known her for a lifetime. I am really happy we have the opportunity to take care of her and love her.” Yunho turned to look at Mingi who was watching the entire thing with a small smile. His eyes spoke volumes as they looked back at him. He took a step toward Yunho and immediately wrapped him in a hug. Relaxing into it Yunho gave him a pat on the back and a kiss to the side of his head. Mingi must have needed to put that energy somewhere else so he wouldn’t squish them. As soon as he pulled away he grabbed Yunho’s hand and led him out of the room to the gaming room. Yunho watched as Mingi grabbed a controller and plopped onto the large beanbag which almost swallowed him. Snickering, Yunho grabbed the other controller and settled next to him.

As they browsed the options of games San and Jongho made their way in holding hands. Jongho settled onto the couch and San immediately curled up to him. watching the Maknae still get flustered after all this time was one of Yunho’s favorite things. His face was red as he tucked an arm around San who pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Jongho lightly slapped him on the shoulder and turned to look at the two on the beanbag for help.

“You chose one of the clingy ones to hang out with, don’t look at me like that.” Yunho was smiling at the two of them, even after getting flipped off by Jongho. Mingi let out a snicker and finally chose a game. Most of the afternoon had continued like this. The boys had made themselves at home within your home.

A short while later there was a slight shuffle across the floor of the great room. All of the boys that converged into the gaming room leaned to look out the door to see Wooyoung rubbing his eyes with a sleepy smile. As soon as he spotted the rest of his boyfriends he made his way over and crawled into the space between San and Jongho. The former laughed as Wooyoung tucked himself as close as possible to the two of them.

“What are we going to do for dinner?” Everyone turned to look at Seonghwa. Some of them snickered at his question.

“We could go and get things to prepare noona food, or she has told us many times that we could poke around and make something if we wanted.” Wooyoung sleepily responded before he yawned.

“I like that idea, a repayment of when she made us something this morning. I think there was a shop not too far down the road, one that is maybe a few minutes drive.”

“I'll go get changed and head out then," San detangled himself from Wooyoung. Wooyoung whined up at him until San gave him a small peck in the lips. As soon as he did Wooyoung got up to go with San, the rest of the boys watched as they left.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

You woke up to the smell of food and an arm wrapped around you. Peeking up to see who it was, you found Yeosang smiling down at you. He had placed his phone down to his side to pay complete attention to you.

“Hi, did you sleep okay?” He tucked some of your hair behind your ear. You responded with a sleepy smile and tucked yourself closer to him burrowing into his chest.

“Yeah I did, I haven't fallen asleep in the nook in a long time. Also you didn't have to stay with me, you could have gone to be with the other boys.” His arms wrapped tighter around you and he placed a hesitant kiss to your hairline.

“You were comfy against me, I couldn't move and disturb you especially knowing your shitty sleeping habits. You are just as bad as Joongie hyung” You let out a snort and reached out to lightly smack his side. He let out a chuckle and tucked you closer to him, if that was even possible. You listened to the general chatter coming from the kitchen, most of the boys must have been in there.

“Dinner is almost done, is she awake?” Yunho questioned from the general vicinity of the arch between the kitchen and nook. You picked your head up from Yeosang’s chest and looked over to him. As soon as he realized you were already awake a smile lit up his face. He stepped closer and sat at the edge of the nook placing a hand on your leg.

“Youngie and Minki made dinner for you to repay you for breakfast. Dont worry Hwa hyung made sure to not let them completely destroy your kitchen.” You let out a huff of laughter at the thought of Seonghwa following the two around the kitchen cleaning up after them. Sitting up and moving away from Yeosang you moved closer to Yunho who was still smiling at you. Yeosang followed you but got up and walked out toward the kitchen. You stretched your arms above your head and let out a small squeak at the way your bones popped. Yunho got up and offered you a hand to help you. As soon as you took it he gently tugged you up and into his arms. You relaxed into the hug wrapping your arms around him and you felt him rest his head on yours. His heartbeat was steady under your cheek.

He pulled away from you and gently grabbed your face, running his thumb over your cheekbones. His hands took up most of your cheeks and his fingertips rested on your neck. He leaned into you and gently put his lips against yours. You closed your eyes and leaned up into the kiss, lightly grabbing his shirt to keep yourself steady. Your heart stuttered in its rhythm, the gentleness with which he held you was earth shattering. He held you like you were his whole world while he poured everything into the kiss. You let your hands run up and down his back which prompted a small shutter from him. Smiling into the kiss you stepped closer to him successfully slotting yourself as close as you could without breaking the kiss. Once you broke apart you opened your eyes and watched him as he put his forehead against yours smiling softly with his eyes closed. When he opened them his dark eyes sparkled with love. You couldn't stop the small smile that made its way onto your face.

“You are so beautiful when you smile Haebalagi,” you tilted your head at him in a silent question.

“It means sunflower in English. Sunflowers always face the sun and I want to be your sun, the one that always makes you smile; with the exception of the other boys and your team.” Your smile only got bigger as you put your face in his chest. His responding laugh warmed your heart as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders again; one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. You felt him start to sway with you. God damn. Just about twenty four hours ago you would have never thought this is where you would be.

“Yuyu, everything okay in here?” As soon as you heard Mingi’s soft voice you peeked your head around Yunho to look at him. He smiled widely at you and walked into the nook. You watched as he walked past you and settled himself behind you wrapping his arms around you and Yunho. Your mind immediately thought back to the first time this happened. You really should have seen this sooner, the way they held you hasn't changed but the feelings between the three of you had. Sighing happily, you settled back into their embrace, Yunho was sharing a small look of absolute pride with Mingi above your head. You just stood there for what only felt like seconds before Wooyoung had started yelling across the house summoning everyone.

The three of you perked up as soon as you heard someone snap a picture of your group. Peeking around Yunho’s shoulders for the second time in a few minutes you saw Hongjoong with a large smile on his face. The smile you wore never quite left your face; it only got bigger as the time went on. Mingi was the first to step away with a kiss to the back of your head, Yunho did the same but with a peck to your lips. You stood there for a minute in shock, it still felt like a fever dream. One of your hands made its way up to your face, your fingertips lingered against your lips. Hongjoong approached you and held out his hand for you to grab so you could go to the other room. You gladly took it and noticed how perfectly his hand moulded against yours. He gently tugged you out and toward the back porch where the rest of the boys were.

Something about how quickly and easily they settled into your house made your chest tighten with adoration. All of them were chatting and waiting for you and Hongjoong to join them; just like this morning. The only difference was the fairy lights you had strung across the ceiling were twinkling giving the porch a warm glow in the twilight. As soon as the rest of the boys saw you their smiles made the room even brighter. There was a seat open next to Jongho which you took with a small smile. Hongjoong took the seat across the way from you between Yunho and Seonghwa. There was already a plate of food ready for you and Jongho scooted it closer to you. When you took the first bite the flavors burst across your tongue, this was easily the best food someone made for you; other than your mother. You looked at Wooyoung and Mingi and smiled wide.

“Thank you for making this, it is absolutely delicious.” Wooyoung being Wooyoung smirked and threw his hands out in a dismissive motion. Mingi beamed at you with a small blush covering his face.

“We got all of the things from the small shop down the road, and we replaced some of the things you used on us this morning.” You looked over to San who was wearing a small smile. You had completely forgotten to show them the greenhouse, they could have used some of the things you had instead of spending their own money on you.

“You really didn't have to do that, I was more than happy to make it and use the things I had on you guys; you are my boyfriends after all.” A weight settled on your leg toward your knee, looking down you saw Jongho’s hand resting there. You looked back up at him and he was looking at you already, as soon as your eyes met his he looked away. You gently grabbed his hand letting yours rest on top of it. His hand squeezed your fingers that had settled themselves on his palm.

“Aish, we wanted to, and it was the perfect excuse to get to know your kitchen better. If I have my way we'll be cooking together more often.” You looked at Wooyoung who was smiling wholeheartedly at you.

“You just want to have more space than the dorms to cook, don't be so coy.” You looked at Yeosang and burst into laughter; he really was a sniper with his comments. He huffed at the two of you and returned to eating. The dinner continued with small chatter from the boys between bites. Jongho’s hand was a steady presence throughout the dinner, it made you happy that he was getting more comfortable with you.

A little while later while you were settled on the couch in the game room watching the boys play one of the co-op games you had. You were leaned back against San’s chest with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Yeosang was on his other side leaning his head on his back quietly watching the others play. Seonghwa was lying across the couch with his head in your lap and his legs on Hongjoong who had a hold of your hand over Seonghwa’s stomach. You were smiling down at Seonghwa’s relaxed face as you combed your fingers through his long hair. A shout startled you and you turned to see what happened. Mingi was caught in a death loop as the others kept trying to get him to move. A snicker left you before you could suppress it. All of their heads whipped up to look at you, each one of them was squinting at you like you had cursed at them.

“Go on, keep embarrassing yourself, it's entertaining.” Yunho hid his smile at your response. Mingi rolled his eyes at you and turned back to the screen. Wooyoung and Jongho both smiled at you and turned back to the screen. You watched as they continued the game after Mingi got himself out of the loop.

“When do you guys need to head back?” You asked, turning back to looking at Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Seonghwa opened his eyes and moved his head to look at Hongjoong.

“We can spend one more night here, tomorrow we have a mid morning schedule we need to get to.” He squeezed your hand with a small smile.

“That works perfectly that way you don't have to get out and navigate while it is dark.” Your mind wandered for a moment before remembering you needed to show them the greenhouse. “Oh speaking of it being dark, I have something that I would like to show all of you whenever they get done with this round. Seonghwa nodded against your thigh and closed his eyes again, basking in the attention you were giving him; just like Toothless does. A few minutes later the boys had completed their round and paused the game. As soon as they did, the four of them got up, Yeosang was the first to separate himself from the pile on the couch. Seonghwa sat up and stretched, Hongjoong reached over to smooth out his hair which was a little ruffled from you running your fingers through it. You stretched out your legs and your knee let out a large pop, you winced and straightened it back out. San was looking at you with a small tilt of his head.

“It's just my shitty knees, nothing to worry about.” He nodded at you and got up. Jongho had stepped in front of you to help you up. Smiling up at him you took it and offered your other to one of the boys still seated on the couch. Seonghwa ended up taking it and smiled as you tugged him up. As soon as he was up he let go of your hand and helped Hongjoong up. Once everyone was ready you started leading them out of the room toward the front door where their shoes were.

“We have a little bit of a walk to get to where I am taking you so you might want your shoes instead of being barefoot like I generally am.” All of them muttered as they went to find where they left their shoes. When all of them were ready you slipped on your well loved black studded birkenstocks. You would have to get them some slip ons to have around here. You led the boys to the back door and outside, a hand found yours just as you passed the threshold; you turned to look back at Jongho. You smiled at him and made your way out into the backyard. Following the curve of the pool you went to the small walkway lined with firefly lights toward the back behind the hottub. Making your way out over the small path you took them down toward the greenhouse.

The boys followed you diligently through the winding cobbled path. The lanterns were casting a warm glow through the trees as you led them farther away from the house. As soon as you got close enough to see the large weeping willow you paused to make sure all of the boys were with you. Jongho was the first to catch sight of it, his eyes sparkled as he looked at the lights. He turned to look at you and back at the tree. When the other boys got into range and almost ran into the pair of you you heard several shocked gasps. Looking over their faces you snickered at the shock and awe. You led the boys farther down the path and past the koi pond. Jongho had let go of your hand to explore the rest of the area which was lit up with various fairy lights and lanterns. Some of them had stopped to look at the water and let out shrieks as they noticed the fish.

Shaking your head at them you moved toward the greenhouse which they had yet to see. They couldn't quite see the greenhouse because it wasn't lit up and the other lights were only bright enough to light up the small area around them. The dark colored greenhouse only stood out to you because you knew what to look for and had been down here many times at this time of the night. You walked into the greenhouse and turned on the lights taking in the smell of fresh soil and plants. Most of the boys shouted in awe when you turned the lights on within the greenhouse. Every one of them moved toward where you were standing in the doorway. All of their eyes were shining as they took in the expanse of plants and things scattered about.

“This is where I get a lot of the produce that's up in the house. Most of the strawberries I had were from here, I only bought some frozen ones to go into the daiquiris. This wing is for fruits and herbs I can grow in the greenhouse.” you motioned to the left wing.

“This wing is for the vegetables” you motioned to the right wing looking over the several things that were ready to be picked. Hongjoong let out a noise of disgust before retreating out of that wing and toward the fruits.

“The center is just for some of the plants I dont keep in my office. I also have several fruit trees that I have amassed over the years outside.” Wooyoung was bouncing around like a kid in a candy shop. He immediately spotted the watermelons and went over to inspect them. The rest of the boys had spread out amongst the greenhouse looking over everything and touching most of the leaves.

Your mind started to wander at the possibility of having a large picnic out here. The large picnic blanket would be set out under the willow tree. You could see Wooyoung and Yeosang out here picking some of the fresh vegetables and fruits. Seonghwa and Jongho would be picking apples and some of the other things. While the other boys sat and watched the koi. You were startled out of your thoughts when someone grabbed your hand. As you focused back into reality you saw San standing in front of you with a smile. Finally letting yourself listen to your intrusive thoughts you poked his cheek where his dimples were showing. Just as you did so he burst into small giggles which were contagious. The both of you were giggling at each other, further listening to your thoughts you leaned in and pressed a hesitant small kiss to his cheek right where his dimple was. You watched as his smile turned bashful and his face turned a cute shade of red.

“Awwww look at how flustered he is, noona you made him turn red.” Snickering at Wooyoung’s comment, you moved around San and walked over to the fruits hoping he wouldn't see your blush too. After a couple more minutes of letting the boys explore you started to head back to the house. As you meandered down the pathway you were smiling at the humming and chattering of the boys behind you. A few of them had run past you chasing each other which you shook your head at. You made your way up to the house to see the three goofballs lined up on the cat tree staring into your soul. As soon as you walked into the house all of them scattered their nails scraping across the floor in their haste to get away.

“We should probably get to bed soon,” you said plopping onto the couch next to Mingi and tucking your legs under you. The rest of the boys had made themselves comfortable on the other couches. You watched as Beans and Mocha were running across the pedestals on the wall. The two of them were running all over the place and Toothless was just behind them. When the children started getting hyper it meant they were working off their energy to go to bed. The boys were watching with worried looks as the giants were running across the wall and ceiling. Toothless had jumped from one of the pedestals on the ceiling to the large treehouse with a loud thud which made the boys jump who weren't paying attention to him. You snickered as he leapt off the treehouse and took off up the stairs almost careening into Yunho who had just come out of the bathroom. He let out a yelp and jumped over Toothless so he wouldn't collide with him. Yunho looked at you with a raised eyebrow, which made you lose it. You had doubled over on the couch at the look of confusion and shock. As he was walking to make his way over to you Mocha and Beans both almost ran him over too.

“Aish you crazy cats,” he muttered as he approached the couch.

“When they get like this it's best to just sit still and keep your feet up off the floor.” As you said that the other boys moved to tuck their legs up under them or to rest on the others. They heeded your warning in perfect time because Mocha came in chasing Beans around the small table you had in the middle of the couches not a second later. Yunho leapt over the back of the couch and settled himself next to Mingi as the girls took off again.

“If you give them a few minutes they will calm down, this is their night time routine before we settle down for bed.” San let out a laugh at the fact which made you smile at him. Shortly after you heard the scraping of claws against the wood floor and you watched as Toothless ran away from Beans. You leaned forward on the couch knowing exactly what he was going to do. He leapt up onto the back of the couch and ran across it which scared both Yunho and Mingi. As soon as he made it toward the edge of the couch he leapt off it and ran around the cat tree with Beans. Several of the boys let out laughs at the absolute absurdity of the giant's chaos. It had already been a few minutes of this, not to mention however long they were doing this before you got back to the house.

“Alright, since they show no signs of stopping I am going to go get ready for bed, maybe if I settle down they will too.” You stood up and stretched, most of the boys had muttered some form of goodnight before you made your way up the stairs. After you made it to the middle of the landing, Toothless ran into the back of your legs at full speed and knocked you over. You caught yourself on your good knee before resting your other one on the floor with your hands coming down to balance you. You turned yourself around to lay on your back as the giggles overtook you. Fucking 23 pound monster. The loud thud of you catching yourself before hitting the floor startled all of the boys downstairs which prompted them to run up the stairs to see you laying on your back on the floor giggling. You looked up at each of the concerned men surrounding you.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang crouched down next to your prone position on the floor. You nodded and fell into another fit of giggles.

“It happens all the time, he will run into me and then disappear. Sometimes I swear he does it just to fuck with me.” Just as you said that he wandered into the room like nothing happened. San immediately moved to him and scooped him up. You watched as he gently scolded the giant cat in his arms. Wooyoung moved over to pinch his back feet which made him squirm. San ‘tortured’ him with a few kisses on his head and put him back down. As soon as he was back down on the floor he walked up to you and headbutted you like he normally did when this happened and walked away. San offered you a hand to help you up and you took it. You dusted yourself off and smiled at all of the men. Seonghwa had his hand on his chest like he was still trying to recover from hearing you hit the floor. Mingi, Yunho and Jongho were watching you with a quiet intensity. You caught Hongjoong looking you over to make sure you really weren't hurt. San and Wooyoung were just smiling at you which you returned. Yeosang stood back up to his full height and settled his hand on your lower back.

“Come on Y/n-nie lets get you to bed so the crazies will calm down too.” Yeosang started escorting you to your room. Most of the boys scattered and made their way to the rooms they claimed attempting to avoid the giants as they ran around. When you stepped into your room and turned on the light you saw Toothless laying on the large tree in your window. You stepped up to him and started petting him.

“Did you really have to go and embarrass me in front of my boyfriends like that you little shitlin.” (this is an actual thing I call my cats, it is a mixture between shithead and gremlin) He chirped at you in answer and Yeosang snorted. You let out a small chuckle at him and walked away toward your walk in closet. Yeosang had made himself comfortable on the chair at the end of your bed. You closed the door and ruffled around for another sleep set, the one you had worn this morning would have been fine in any other instance but after cooking in it you were sure it smelled like food. You grabbed your low battery sleep set and threw it on. Once you were finished you stepped out into the main portion of the room to see Yeosang had changed into some shorts and a tank top. He looked up at you from his phone and smiled.

You grabbed the remote off your shelf on the bedframe and turned to the star lights that were embedded into your ceiling. After you made sure they were the perfect brightness and set the sleep timer you walked over to turn off the big light. Yeosang let out a small gasp as you turned off the lights; you smiled at his wonder. You made your way back over to your bed and crawled into it. As soon as you were comfortable you opened your arms in an invitation to Yeosang. He set his phone off to the side and moved over to you and crawled into the bed with you. You were situated on your back and he hovered over you giving you a small peck on the lips before he settled on top of you with his head directly over your heart. This was the first time you got to hold him and not the other way around when you cuddled. He absolutely melted into you as you started running your hands up and down his back giving him scratches here and there. Eventually your hand made it into his hair and he let out a small noise of contentment. You listened as he hummed a small tune, his deep voice was reverberating against your chest and it shot an arrow straight through your heart. His voice was so beautiful and unique, you could just sit here and listen to it for the rest of your life.

A couple of minutes later San walked into the room, he glanced up at the ceiling. “Wahh, that's so cool!” He stopped just short of the end of the bed and took in the rest of the lights. You were just smiling at him, he turned to look at you and smiled back. He crawled into the bed on your other side but before he could lay down completely, his eyes caught on something above your head.

“Yah, is that Hetmongi and Ddeongbyeoli?” You picked up your head and turned to look up toward the headboard by your pillows where you knew they were. Yeosang was looking up and caught sight of them. The grin that split across his face was smug as he looked back at you.

“Yeah, the rest of them are sitting on the shelf just above my head. I'm honestly surprised you didn't clock the large dragon plushie first.” San’s eyes moved around the bed until he caught sight of the large black dragon plush that was close to Yeosang’s side. His eyes continued up and saw the rest of the Aniteez sitting pretty on the bedframe’s shelf you put your glasses on. He was very pleased with himself as he picked up Ddeongbyeoli and replaced him with Sandeoki on the bed. You rolled your eyes at him and opened your arm to him so he would settle against you. He settled on his side next to you tucking himself under it. He and Yeosang were both smiling at each other and exchanged a sweet kiss before cuddling farther into you.

“Goodnight my sweethearts,” you murmured, taking off your glasses and setting them on the shelf.

“Goodnight our treasure, we had so much fun with you today.”

“I had fun with all of you too, we definitely need to make this a habit whenever we can.” Yeosang nodded his head against you, you could tell he was losing the battle with sleep. His breathing started evening out and you left a kiss on the crown of his hair before turning to look at San. He was looking at you with his eyes half open and a sleepy smile. You returned it and cradled his head closer to you so you could leave a kiss on his forehead. He melted into you and finally closed his eyes. You stared up at the ceiling watching the lights twinkle like stars.

How the hell did you get this lucky? These men had shown you more love in the past day than any other prospective relationship had or any relationship for that matter. You thought back to Hongjoong’s words yesterday.

You feel like the missing piece we never knew we needed. We are pursuing you. You are the person that we want to have with us from now on. You. Not anyone else. You. We want you through the light and the dark. We want you through everything.

Maybe it was finally time to put your trust into someone else, to let them care for you in the way you had for yourself all this time. Maybe you could finally let someone else in. You had taken a large step into the unknown with these men and right now it felt like one of the best decisions you have made in your life. You had always been on the outskirts of everything and now it was your turn to be loved. Being able to see and feel the love surrounding you was something foreign and you knew it would take some getting used to. Finally it was your turn to get something that you deserved, something you yearned for. You let your happy thoughts and their steady breaths carry you into dreamland.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 19)

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