#or read the parts i like and nothing else. god. he's not even that bad at setting up interesting stuff that's the crazy part
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Some people asked me to make a pt.2 of collared with pegging and well. This is not it (ââ -â ) I just like to bully Leo, sorry... have the twink being tortured yet again 𫳠not really femdom content this time around like the 1st part BUT he still suffers (â´č¸`â)
WARNINGS: this is a part 2 (?) to collared, so read that one first! This is smut and has explicit language, NSFT !!!!!!! Do not engage if it makes you uncomfortable <3
Leo grunted, fist wrapped tightly around his length as he leaned against the wall of his spacious bathroom. His tip was a furious red as he jerked his cock, desperately seeking a release that seemed far away, gritting his teeth at the frustration that washed over his body.
His hand stopped, and he gasped for air, chest heaving up and down and hair sticking to his forehead after exerting himself. He slammed his fist against the wall, furious.
He had been like that for weeks. Unable to relieve himself of his pent-up stress and unable to ignore the desire that kept on pooling in his core.
He had tried everything. Watching porn, using toys, hooking up with some students â but nothing worked. He would get so close, so fucking close but then his orgasm would ruin itself no matter what. It was like something was broken and he didn't know why.
Actually, Leo knew what might have caused it. But he also tried to avoid thinking about it at all costs.
He dry swallowed, throat bobbing up and down, as he waited for his heart rate to slow down and his breathing to even out.
Meanwhile, his mind raced, trying to find anything to think about, only to run away as fast as he could from those memories. He'd conjure up thoughts of old parties, old hookups, bad hangovers and mundane shit that didnât matter at all, only to escape from unconsciously recollecting that day.
But the ghost of the sensations remained on his skin, on his nerves, on his cock.
His breathing got heavier again and he pushed himself away from the wall of his bathroom.
That was all futile. He needed some fresh air. With some luck, he could find some stupid student to bully and maybe get into a fight and just have someone rip the horny out of him through punches and kicks.
Yeah. That's what he needed.
Instead of following the flawless plan he had hurriedly concocted before leaving, however, Leo found himself in front of the old, beaten down Cathedral. He heard rumors of how it had been another dorm before, but now it only housed the stupid NPC.
Leo cursed under his breath.
Why the fuck did he find himself there? He had no business with you. He didn't want ANYTHING from you.
And yet, his gaze locked onto the only window that was open on that large building, with faint candlelight flickering inside.
You were right there. He knew that. And he fucking hated the way his mouth dried up and his heart picked up speed yet again.
God fucking damn it.
Wasn't your "revenge" something that should have happened only once? (Even though for the first days he kept waiting and waiting, sitting on pins and needles, for you to come back and show him how else you could fuck him).
If it was just that one forsaken moment, then why should he keep on being so fucking frustrated all the time, rubbing his thighs together in a futile attempt to ease the annoyance, all because he can't cum like before?
He groaned as he felt his cock stiffen once again as the memories of your hands roaming all over his body became, finally, inescapable.
Leo stepped out of the paveway and into the trees and bushes, still keeping his eyes locked at your window.
It wouldn't hurt to try and relieve himself right then and there, right? Just that one time. Just to get the edge off and then afterwards he would do anything in his power to erase the memories of that stupid fucking NPC making him feel pleasure that he had never felt before. Even if he had to create mesmer matches that worked only on him, just for that.
He palmed himself through his pants, breath faltering and labored as he felt how painfully hard he had become. All to the thought of you.
He felt pathetic.
And still, he pulled his pants down and leaned against a tree, trying to control the small moans that began spilling from his mouth.
Against his better judgment, however, Leo gave in to his curiosity.
"Haxs." He whispered through his sighs, and his half-lidded eyes immediately widened as he heard the telling sound of your labored breathing and the wet noises of your fingers thrusting deep inside yourself.
Leo's eyes rolled back as a strangled moan caught on his throat as soon as he realized you were masturbating just like he was. His hips jerked forward, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he bit his other fist in order to muffle the sounds of his mewls.
He fucked his fist at the same pace of your moans, desperately trying to picture you with your legs spread open wide, shoving your fingers deep inside your pussy in order to teach him how he should fuck you â just like you taught him things he wouldn't ever forget the last time.
Leo was too caught up in his fantasies and the sensation of finally â Finally! â being able to quench that awful thirst, that the next sound you made caught him completely off guard.
As you reached your own peak, your mewls and whines grew louder and, in your orgasm, you moaned another ghoul's name.
His hips stuttered and he thrusted one last time, his release gushing out of him in thick ropes before he could even notice. A loud whine ripping out of his throat without restraint.
He panted, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes due to the wave of pleasure he so desperately seeked finally washing over him.
But his eyes were sharp, glaring towards the only lit window in the Cathedral.
You fucking moaned someone else's name.
Leo inhaled deeply, trying to keep the confusing swirl of emotions at bay, blinking fast in order to get clear headed quickly.
What the actual fuck.
So you liked someone else? Apparently yes, since you fucking came with someone else's name on your lips.
What was all that happened between you two then? Did you REALLY just want to fuck with him as a punishment?
... Nah, he didn't believe that. Not when he could so clearly remember the way your eyes ran all over his body and how you looked like you would devour him at any given moment.
He would know.
Every single time he closed his eyes, he could still picture you hovering over him, touching him, praising him.
So why the fuck were you touching yourself to the thought of some other fucking ghoul?
Why not him? Why weren't you thinking of him while you masturbated, when he could only cum to the thought and sounds of you after you completely ruined him?
Were you really not as affected by all that as he was? Was he the only stupid moron that really couldn't even jack off properly if he didn't have you around somehow?
Leo bit his lip, brows furrowing as he felt his chest tightening. He haphazardly wiped his hands on the grass below him, and buttoned his pants.
Was this the actual punishment you were talking about?
Leo felt his throat close painfully and the back of his eyes sting as furious tears threatened to pool on his eyes.
He stumbled on his way back towards Vagastrom, confused despite the clarity brought by his orgasm, and, much to his dismay, feeling a type of hurt deep inside his chest that he had always thought was pathetic.
Leo felt discarded, like trash, for the first time in his life.
Kudos to you for flipping the script on him so perfectly without even trying.
But not to worry. When it came to cruelty and breaking hearts, he would always get first place.
He just had to think.
#tokyo debunker#leo kurosagi#tokyo debunker leo kurosagi#nsft#explict#mdni#dom!reader#sub!Leo#f3mdom#f3md0m#sub!male character
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Honestly kind of lame of CS Forester not to go in for the weird Narnia ending. Think of how fun that could have been
#don't read these tags if you don't want spoilers i'm going to put spoilers in the tags#but i just finished admiral and i think it would have been fun if they had all died actually. sorry that sounds horrible but genuinely#it would have been better than the actual ending#which was fine it was just stupidboring heroics and i did not come here for that#someone needs to write a fic in which they all perish in the hurricane and hornblower actually tells barbara that he doesn't love her#and maybe maaaaybe she's also honest with him but either way he realizes that this is not what he wants and not how he wants to go out#or it's a tragedy and he doesn't realize that and dies an empty shell of a guy! either way it's more compelling#cs forester setting up so many dynamics that he refuses to deliver on and i'm so glad i'm finished so now i can just go back and fix it#or read the parts i like and nothing else. god. he's not even that bad at setting up interesting stuff that's the crazy part#but man do those books drive me up a wall when it comes to reader satisfaction i am NOT having it#anyways i'll now cease being grumpy and go off and read ursula leguin or something yay#perce rambles#percy yells at cecil scott#<- thank GOODNESS i am free of him (guy who read these books willingly in his free time)
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Statistically Speaking...
part of the svt TA collab
kim mingyu x reader
word count: 21k
contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]
words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD
synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, youâve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldnât know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,âŚit could.
[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!
I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 𼚠I love u guys
Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much đ¤
on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333
masterlist
Monday
A normal person wouldâve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.Â
But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feelâŚnothing.Â
You couldâve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.Â
Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.Â
Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope youâll hold back from spitting in your professorâs coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.
You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did. Â
Which was little to none.Â
That was a lieâon your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.Â
Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.Â
Heâs wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. Thereâs pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.Â
This man thatâs pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.Â
âI have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.â
Heâs talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any youâve had to bully yourself through.Â
âAll I can say is to read through the feedback Iâve given and try a little harder next time.â His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing â?ââs and ânoââs with zero further explanation. He could say more, but youâve learned that he simply chooses to not.Â
Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, thereâs another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. Heâs hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.Â
The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. Heâs crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were todayâs worksheets.Â
â...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.â
The poor TA looks like he thought heâd have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before heâs flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. Thereâs a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.Â
You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.Â
âPass it down, please⌠pass it down, pleaseâŚâ
Thereâs a voice that calls from one of the front seats, âWhat formula is the sheet talking about?â
Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one youâd have to figure out yourself).
 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.Â
By the time youâve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.
Sure enough, thereâs a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.Â
Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.Â
Thereâs one person thatâs zipping back and forth, just like there always is.Â
You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasnât going to help.
Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.Â
Tuesday
Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.Â
So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.Â
Youâve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you donât dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.Â
Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.Â
Nothing.Â
You knock again.
Silence.Â
You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the roomâŚempty.
The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professorâs desk has been occupied this entire time.Â
Except heâs asleep.
No, thatâs not the professor.Â
Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But thereâs none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.
You donât need to see his face to know itâs the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you arenât quite sure what to do.Â
Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.Â
Itâs his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesnât take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.Â
Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you heâs actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.Â
âUm, excuse me.â He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. âExcuse me.â
You couldâve sworn you heard a snore.Â
Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. âExcuse me!â
Thereâs a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire backâs worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.
âWhâow!â The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.Â
âWâwhatâre you doing here?â he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. Thereâs a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you canât decipher.
âUm, itâs officeââ
His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.Â
âI have to go,â he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.Â
âWait, isnât it still office hours?â you call out as he whizzes past you.Â
Heâs swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, âWednesdays and Thursdays.â
âButââ
âItâs on the portal.â
âNo itâs not.â
âYes itââ he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. âIâll double check. But itâs Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.â
âHowââ
A loud slam! of the door.Â
ââlongâŚâÂ
Youâre left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.Â
He said heâd be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.Â
Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.Â
The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. Itâs another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.Â
She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, âAm I in the right room?â
âUh, yes! I was just leaving,â you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.Â
Youâre halfway out the door when you hear another call of an âExcuse me!â
âAre these your papers?â The professorâs full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.Â
The No is ready on your lips. Until it isnât.Â
Later on, youâd consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How youâd ducked under the table to ensure youâd gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.Â
But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that youâd committed.
And nothing of the hourglass youâd just turned over.Â
Wednesday
In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.
I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. Iâm aware itâs on the portal but Iâd like to reconfirm.Â
Regards, YN
Dear YN,
Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.Â
So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.Â
The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professorâs desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.Â
The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isnât too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early youâve swooped in.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration whether this was in the TAâs job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.Â
The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.Â
You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.Â
People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is theyâre doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.Â
The faces are familiar, none of which are people youâve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. Thereâs a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume thereâs one thing in common the both of you werenât doing.Â
Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.Â
Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebodyâs already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the firstâs intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.Â
Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. Thereâs multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyoneâs time management.Â
Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didnât want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls youâd noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.Â
Once again, the TA doesnât seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.Â
It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. Itâs then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.Â
âAre you here to see him?â
You donât expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. âPardon?âÂ
âAre you here to see him? Mingyu?â
âUhââ Wasnât everybody? âYeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.â
The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, âGod, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.â
âYeah heâs a bitâŚunorthodox.â
âHeâs unorthodox too.â She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. âA face like that is rare.â
It wasnât that she was wrong, it didnât take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people youâd meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a veryâŚoverwrought⌠suggestion wherever he went.Â
It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.Â
But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool youâd sound if you admitted to anything other than such.Â
âIt is. His willpowerâs somehow even rarer,â you add. âDonât know how he does it.â
âGod, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.â Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.Â
Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.Â
Thereâs a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and itâs like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.Â
You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldnât hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.Â
Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.Â
Alas, you donât tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.Â
You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.Â
Suddenly, the girl looks startled as sheâs told to wait.Â
âSheâs been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you donât mind,â you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.Â
For whatever reason, you had no thought that he mightâve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when heâd spoken to you, perhaps he mightâve thought he dreamt it. Or heâd just forgotten it altogether.Â
The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.Â
âThank you.â
It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.Â
âYou can come right after her,â he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.Â
Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.Â
You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.Â
Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.Â
It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising youâd forgotten your bag in your seat.Â
Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an âOh!â as you spring back up immediately. Itâs easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.Â
The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like sheâs trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.Â
Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once youâve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.Â
âRight. How can I help you?â
Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.Â
One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.Â
âItâs a 37,â you inform him like he couldnât see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.Â
âDo you think you deserved a better grade?â he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.Â
It stumps you regardless.
âWellâŚI know I can do better, at least,â you decide to answer.Â
âYouâre here, which means youâre at least willing to try. Thatâs a start,â he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.
âI remember marking this,â he says, looking up to address you. âYour concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.â
âYou marked them?â
He raises his brow, âI hope that wasnât an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.â
âI thought the professor marked the lab reports.â
âHeâsâŚsupposed to.â Thereâs a forced reservedness in his voice. âI mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But Iâm not sure youâd fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.â
Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise youâre at a loss for words.Â
Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You donât have an explanation, but itâs somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man thatâs meant to help you. âI donât know what to do anymore.â
âThatâs alright,â he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. âWeâll work through it.â
He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.Â
Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.
âLab reports can be quite tricky if you arenât sure what youâre doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?â
You mean the one that did nothing to help? âYes.â
âYou got those bits right, format and whatnot. Butââ
âIt was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,â you say plainly.
Mingyu lips are in a tight line. âWell, yes, but it helpsââ
âI know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I donât need a PDF to tell me that,â you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. âI want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.â
âDr. Choââ
âIs no help.â
âI understandââ
âHe canât even mark his own papers. Iâm quite sure thatâs not in your job description. Itâs supposed to be him here. Not you.â
Itâs silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyuâs fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.Â
âAnd yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.â He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. âAnd, better that Iâm here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.â
Help, he did.Â
Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.Â
You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.
âI almost forgot,â you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.Â
âWhere did you find this?â he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.Â
âYou left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,â you say, before quickly adding, âThere was a class right after you left. I took them off the professorâs hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.â
âIâve been looking all over for these,â he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. âThank you.â
You flush for some reason, âOâof course, couldnât just leave them there.â
Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. âMaybe donât run out of rooms still half asleep.â
By the grace of God, he laughs, âNo, youâre right. I should be careful.â
It isnât till youâre pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. âYou can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.â
âPardon?â
Heâs stood up as well. âI have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.âÂ
Feet planted on the ground, thereâs not much you can do but stare. âUm, sure. I can come in a little early.â
He nods casually, âThanks again for the papers. And the watch.â
You smile, âNo problem.â
Thursday
True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.
Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.
âI donât know if I can make time for thatâno, I understand, sir,â
Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt heâs entirely comfortable with.Â
âIâll see what I can do.â
His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.Â
âLight on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,â he startles when he notices you.Â
Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. âSorry.â
You know itâs invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. âImportant call?â
âUh, yeah, um, just work stuff,â he states, shaking his head swiftly like heâs trying to shake the thought out of his mind.Â
Thereâs a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.Â
âIt was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,â he says. âAs always.âÂ
âDoes he do anything other than show up to class?â you ask through a snort.Â
âOf course he does. He cusses out every article he doesnât agree with, is anything but objective andâŚthe occasional relay of blatant misinformation.âÂ
For the record, youâd never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months heâd been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.Â
The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.Â
Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.Â
That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professorâit was something you couldnât quite believe he was capable of.Â
âIâm sorry you have to put up with him.â
Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, âAnything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, heâs done a lot for the area, canât discredit him entirely.â
With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.Â
Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, âIâm stuck.â
Thereâs nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. âI am too. Help.â
Help, he does.
Monday
Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.Â
The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.Â
Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you donât tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, âMake that two, please.â
It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.Â
Something isnât right.Â
Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.Â
It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction youâve had with him.Â
He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. ââMorning!âÂ
â...Morning.â
âYouâre early,â he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.Â
âFigured we both needed this,â you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. âItâs a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.â
âOâoh, thank you. And youâre right I did need this.â
Now that youâre closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.Â
To Do:
Call mom
Shoot myself
âYou, umââ Itâs alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lilâ something on your face.
But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.Â
Thereâs a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. âFor fuckâs sake.â
âItâs okay! I wannaâŚshoot myself too sometimes.âÂ
What the fuck?
âI mean!â you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. âItâs okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.â
Itâs all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesnât try to sabotage your education.Â
âGood thing it was just you. Yeah.â
Just you.
âAnyways, I think Iâm done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?âÂ
âHave you seen the time?âÂ
âNot a morning person?â
âNope!â
âAnd yet itâs 7:40 on a Monday morning and youâre absurdly early.â His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.Â
âDo you want the coffee or not?â you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.Â
The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.Â
He gives you a crooked grin,âI apologise.â
âTo be fair,â he continues. âIâm not much of a morning person either.â
You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, âIâm starting to think no moneyâs worth this job.â
Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, âYouâre right. Not sure why Iâm still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.â
âAnd that isnât happening becauseâŚ?â
Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. âI like Dr. Cho.â
âYouââ
âI know,â he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. âI know. I sound like a lunatic.â
âI donât know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.â
âAnother would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.âÂ
âDonât get smart with me.â
âExcuse me for doing my job.â
He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, âNo, but really. I canât imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.â
Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. âWhen I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.â
âPSYCH101?â
âThatâs the one. Iâd never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Choâs studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything heâd published, some of âem before any of us were even born.âÂ
âOh. So youâre a fan.â
âEveryone tells you to never meet your idols,â he snickers. âHeâs done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.â
âIâm sorry it had to be you,â you half joke.Â
Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, âThat might also be my own fault.âÂ
âDonât tell me you offered.â
âI might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was justâŚplain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true. He was always emailing me extra resources whichâŚIâm pretty sure he isnât supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.âÂ
He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, âI guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know Iâm getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.â
âDid heâŚhave a TA when you were in his class?âÂ
âFour.â
âFour?!â
âTwo at a time. All of âem quit at some point. Said they didnât want the recommendation or the pay.â
âWould heâŚnot give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.â
Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, âHeâs a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If youâve impressed him, youâve impressed everyone.â
You take a moment to really absorb everything youâve just learned. âThatâs a sucky position youâre in.â
âTell me about it. But itâs okay. Threeâthree and a half more months to go? This isnât even the worst of it, Iâm just dreading study week when Iâm gonna have to handle all the crying.â
You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept youâd be alright with this class.Â
âI know youâre not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.â
âEver heard of barriers to entry? Iâd be ruined if I wanted a career in this.â
You roll your eyes playfully, âAll Iâm saying is Iâve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months Iâve spent cursing this very lecture hall.â
If you werenât lying to yourself, you couldâve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you canât help but bite back your own smile.Â
âIf I can help you then itâs worth losing myself.â
Your heart is in your fucking throat.
âIâm glad when students tell me that,â he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. âMakes me feel like Iâm doing something right.â
âYouâreââ you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. âYouâre doing more than just something right. Youâre saving us therapy and an extra semester.â
He laughs at that, and you wish heâd let you breathe.Â
âFeels like Iâm doing something wrong sometimes,â he huffs. âMy friendâs a TA too and heâs got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else heâs got going on.âÂ
He goes on, âDo you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuckâs sakeââ
Mingyu is cut off because youâre laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. âWâwhat?â
âIâm sorry,â you hiccup. âItâs justâŚIt sounds like you donât know what you look like.â
âWhatâs wrong with how I look?â he frowns.
âNothing!â you exclaim. âBut thatâs the problem isnât it.â
Mingyu doesnât seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.
âCanât possibly be enough to distract people,â he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he canât get through to.Â
âMajority of the class would beg to differ.â
Thereâs a pause as he registers what you imply.Â
After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, âWould⌠you alsoââ
Thereâs a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, heâs already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.Â
âThatâs our cue,â you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professorâs desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu whoâs suddenly frantic.Â
Of course you realise thereâs people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.
But you feel the soft of Mingyuâs shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.Â
âRelax,â you whisper. âYouâll be better off without all the panic.â
You donât see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyuâs face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.Â
Thursday
Midterm season is nothing youâve ever really had to worry about.Â
Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.Â
Except this class isnât ordinary, and itâs all youâre able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.Â
âIâm not ready.â
âYouâre more ready than anyone else in class.â
âHow do you know that?â
Mingyu stares at you blankly, âIf I donât know that, then who else does?â
You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time youâve teared up in front of him, but also because youâre in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.Â
âBut I donât feel like Iâm ready,â you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.Â
âYouâll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,â he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.Â
Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, âYou only feel that way because Iâve been giving you harder problems to work on. Youâre past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, youâre more than prepared.â
âButââ
âListen,â he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. âItâs only the midtermââ
âOnly theââ
âIf this goes wrong, Iâm just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it wonât go wrong because I said so.â
You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.Â
âIâm assumingâŚâ you start.Â
âHm?â he looks over to you.
âIâm assuming you canât hint at whatâs on the paper.â
Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, âYou assume correct. Iâm not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.â
âBut itâs just the midterm,â you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.Â
âWhat did you say?â Mingyu smirks.Â
âNothing,â you huff.
âYou know, Iâm a little offended you donât trust me.â
âWho said I didnât.â
âWell then, stop being such a worrywart.â
There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.Â
He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. âI made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know youâre gonna be fine.â
In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you donât see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.Â
Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you donât take anything into account as you note Mingyuâs eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone youâd ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know youâd feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.Â
Heâd given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.Â
You sniffle.Â
His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.Â
You know heâs real. And you donât know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.
Monday
You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.
Itâs midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow youâd have to perform for today.
It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.Â
Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.Â
âMorning, champ,â he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.Â
Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.Â
âWhyâre you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?â he huffs in one long, rapid question.Â
âUm, I mean,â you stare at his shirt thatâs backwards. And inside out. âI canât tell if thatâs a choice or a mistake.â
Looking down at his front, he looks back up, âWhat?â
âYour collar isâŚnot at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirtâs inside out.â
Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. Heâs immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like itâd all disappear if he keeps them like that.Â
âWait!â you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. âDo you wanna strip for the CCTVs?â
You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.Â
Youâve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, heâs blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.Â
Itâs hard for you to listen to him when youâre more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasnât a breathing corpse.Â
âMingyuâŚdid you sleep at all?â
âHm?â His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.Â
âSleep? Rest?â
âOh,â he frowns. âNot really. I had emails coming in all night.â
âAnd you were replying?â
âIt's the midterm today,â he responds flatly, like it shouldâve been enough explanation.Â
You almost donât believe him. âDoesnât mean you stay up to answer something that shouldâve been cleared out beforehand!â
âCouldnât just leave them to fend for themselves,â he dramatises.Â
âYes, you could!â Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what heâs doing to himself. âYou barely look human and itâs only the midterm.â
âWhatâre you trying to say?â
âI donât know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.â
Mingyuâs jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. âI canât get anywhere if I donâtââ
âMingyu, please. This isnât good for you.â
He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. âIf you think this job isnât worth it then you just donât know.â
âMingyuââ
âNo, you donât, because Iâve seen how good of a job Iâve been doing.â
âYou have, youâve been amazing butââ
Mingyuâs own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. âThen whatâs the problem?â
âHave you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!â
And then heâs getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, âWhy on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if Iâm doing my job?âÂ
It mightâve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.Â
Why on earth do you care so much?
Right. Why do you?Â
âAre you asking me that?â
âWhat?â
âAre you asking me why I care?âÂ
Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.Â
His eyes are bloodshot.Â
âI have to get the exam pack.â
Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, youâre left with a feeling thatâs right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professorâs desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.Â
Thereâs a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. Itâs like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.
Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.
Everything youâd subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didnât fit where the laws wouldnât allow it.Â
The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.
Monday
Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.Â
It wasnât broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didnât work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.Â
You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.
Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to âshut downâ when overwhelmed or stressed.Â
Itâs happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when youâd neglect food or water on busier days, or when youâd stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.Â
Regardless, youâd found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.Â
Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldnât work, just like how the latch wouldnât fit when youâd do the same with your beloved old box. So youâd take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.Â
On the morning of your midterm, when youâd ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones youâll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.Â
Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, youâd seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.Â
Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.Â
âPass it on, pleaseâŚpass it on, please.â
The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.Â
You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.Â
That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.Â
Because it was quite the opposite. You couldnât hate him.Â
As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you donât. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.Â
Throughout your years of living, youâd learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.Â
Everything. You tried everything.Â
But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.
Itâs Wednesday.Â
You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; itâs safe and you know youâll like it.Â
Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone elseâs cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.Â
Itâs 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. Itâs strange. It feels like youâre missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.Â
The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.Â
Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.Â
Itâs accursed the way the universe wonât let you live.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.Â
Estimation cannot be perfect.Â
[_]
Itâs Thursday
Class. Eat. Drink. Work.
Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!
[_]
Itâs Friday
Eat. Drink. Work.
Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out
[_]
Itâs Saturday
Eat. Drink. Work.
P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)
              ââââââ
                     P(B)
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
 it gets less complicated
 promise :/Â
[_]
Itâs Sunday.
Eat. Drink. Work.
The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
youâve got this!!! < 3
You give up.
Itâs Monday.
8:14 AM.Â
You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Choâs outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least thatâs what the twinkle from up here looks like.Â
Heâs insulting another author, the manâs ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.Â
Thereâs another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.Â
An hour later, youâre staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.Â
Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.Â
Bright pink sticky note.Â
You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.Â
9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.Â
Dr. Cho doesnât even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.
In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Youâve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.Â
They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.Â
Itâs silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.Â
Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.Â
The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.Â
Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.
Itâs Wednesday.
After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.
Itâs Thursday.Â
Walking out of class, your mind is empty. Youâre still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.Â
This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something youâve learned to appreciate.Â
With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.Â
It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.
You freeze like youâve been caught.Â
The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed âHey!â knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.Â
Youâre off centre. But itâs fine.Â
Itâs Monday.
âMidterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions Iâll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, eitherâs fine.â
Dr. Cho isnât here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.Â
You want to leave, not caring about how strange itâd look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you donât understand but more familiar than anything else.Â
Mingyuâs voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.
â 92/100
Itâs Wednesday.Â
4:10 PM. Itâs almost too much for you. Almost.Â
The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handleâs rebound even more so. The room doesnât so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.Â
The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.Â
Itâs ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months youâve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, heâs breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.Â
âDid you feel bad?â you spit.
âWhat?â he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, âCan we talk? Please.â
âAnswer the question, Mingyu,â you snap. You donât care thereâs a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. âDid you feel so bad you had to give me something I didnât earn?â
Heâs stood up now, half confused. âIs this about the midtermââ
âI did not get a ninety two, I know I didnât,â you grit. âWhatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldnât.â
Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. âWhat makes you think Iâd do something like that?â
âI donât know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?â you announce, louder than before.Â
The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyuâs face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage youâve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.Â
Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.Â
Thereâs a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.Â
A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.
âHere. It was all you, if you canât believe me.â
Itâs a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.Â
Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason itâs only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You donât open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.Â
Because you know youâve lost.
Itâs Thursday. And itâs full of regret.Â
Thereâs a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. Itâs in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.Â
Thereâs a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you arenât waking up from this one.Â
In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.Â
In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad thatâs been sleeping with you every night.Â
If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, youâve crossed it with the resentment youâve now fostered for yourself.Â
Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.Â
Itâs Friday.
At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.Â
Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. Youâre crying over Bayesian inference and itâs somehow more pressing than any other emotion youâve ever felt.Â
Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a foolâs game altogether.Â
Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.Â
[Mingyu]: switch to bF10Â
[Mingyu]: youâve been pulling numbers from bF01
Itâs immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.Â
With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.Â
Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. Itâs stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.Â
Do you not miss me?
Do you not want me around?
Talk to me
I miss you
Please talk to me
âI couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true.â
Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine heâs helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing youâd make blunders out of.Â
The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knifeâs twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything heâs bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.Â
Thereâs a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.Â
Itâs Saturday.Â
Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.Â
The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.Â
âLatte, please,â you voice. âIced.â
âWe have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?â The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.Â
âUm, no thank you. Just one, please.â
She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldnât bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.Â
Youâre plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.Â
â...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.âÂ
âHe has time to hook up?â
âI remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.âÂ
âA ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.â
âWhatever, at least we know heâll entertain you if he likes you enough. Iâm just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.â
Thereâs an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.Â
âUnless he flirts in variables.â
âAll is forgiven when youâre born with a face like that.âÂ
Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.Â
Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.Â
There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.Â
She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.Â
Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesnât look as menacing as you feel. You donât wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.
Itâs Sunday.
It seems every sip of water youâve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears youâve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.
Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. Itâs another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.Â
Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesnât make sense, the commands youâve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.Â
Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.Â
With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you canât help but feel a little relieved it wasnât that particular snag.Â
The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear sheâs playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.Â
The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. Youâre going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.Â
Bayesian inferenceâŚz scoresâŚnull hypothesisâŚ
Wait.Â
Itâs like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone elseâs dark blue on your notes.
no null hypothesis in bayesian approach
Bayesian approaches donât use null hypotheses. And z scores are inâŚ
âOh my god, this is a t test,â you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, youâre scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.Â
And there it wasâŚa clear 0.067 under the p value.Â
In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.Â
It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you canât help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.Â
When the initial adrenaline fades and youâve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.Â
The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.Â
Thereâs an attached file in the email you draft.Â
The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.Â
Regards, YN
Itâs almost like youâre trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.Â
You donât need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.Â
But you donât email him, backspacing till itâs empty once again.Â
Dr. Choâs email sits in that place instead, a first for you.Â
SEND.
You donât expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you arenât sure if heâs going to respond at all. Youâve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. Youâre forced to consider.Â
Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?Â
A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrowâs class when youâd have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.Â
Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.Â
Thereâs a new email in your sent box after youâre done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.Â
Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. Youâre out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.Â
Youâre afraid if you put a hand to your stomach itâd be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.Â
Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.Â
The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. Thereâs no way to tell if youâre shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.Â
RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu
It couldnât have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, itâs almost funny you expected any different from him.Â
The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and itâs like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.Â
Clicking on the notification, the email opens.Â
Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. Iâll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.
There was no way he didnât have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and youâre sure he knew youâd realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.Â
But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building youâd once considered a second home.Â
You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.Â
Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. Itâs strange, youâve never seen it wide open before.Â
Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professorâs desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.Â
Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. Itâs warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.Â
The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.Â
Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.Â
It wasnât that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, youâd done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.
 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.
If that was the case, you wouldâve been right. Thereâs a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.Â
Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. Thereâs the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, ââMorning.â
You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. ââMorning.â
You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.Â
Itâs so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.Â
âI, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.â Thereâs an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.Â
He clears his throat when you donât respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.Â
âThanks,â you hoarse. Itâs the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course youâd recognise his handwriting.Â
âI didnât have time to print one out right now. Iâll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,â he explains.Â
âThatâs alright.â You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. âThanks again. IâllâŚget going.âÂ
Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. Youâre already halfway to the door though, and your prideâs already deemed it too late.Â
Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop meâ
There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.Â
Turning back around is the easiest thing youâve ever done.Â
Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasnât expecting you to turn back. âCan we talk?âÂ
And then heâs pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you couldâve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, âPlease?â
So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man thatâs haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.Â
âI guess I should start with an apology,â heâs fidgeting with his own fingers. âI donât need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion becauseâŚâ
He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. âI didnât mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. Iâm sorry I spoke to you like that when you didnât deserve it.âÂ
For about the millionth time, you realise youâre tearing up again. He continues. âAnd thenâŚright before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didnât touch those numbers.â
He really didnât, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.
âI thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldnât find you, and then you were gone right after. I didnât text or call because I was sure Iâd fucked it all up.âÂ
âIâm sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasnât thinking straight.â You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. âI really hope you didnât get into any trouble.âÂ
âIâno, I didnât.â
âAre you sure? Becauseââ
âI promise I didnât.â He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping youâd believe him. You nod slowly.Â
âIt wasnât even that bad, what you said,â you sniffled.Â
He scoffs at that, âIâd beg to differ.â
âI wouldâve gotten over it,â you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something youâve had trouble admitting to yourself. âI shouldâve gotten over it. I donât know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I havenât been acting like normal ever since, and Iâm sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didnât need to turn intoâŚthis!â
âYou were hurt because I hurt you.â
âPeople have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I shouldâve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. ButâŚyeah.â
Thereâs a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. âI just want us to go back to normal. Iâve missed you. Alot.â
âMe too. The go back to normal bit. And theâŚmissed you bit.â
Mingyuâs half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. âIâd thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, thatâd be admitting defeat. That youâd think IâŚcouldnât do it.âÂ
Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.Â
You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasnât what he meant.âSince when are we on caring terms?âÂ
Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."
Itâs hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.Â
âOh well Iâd hope youâd care, since youâre my TA and all.â
âNot in a TA way.â
âTutor way.â
âUm.â
âFriend way? A human way?âÂ
âNo.â
You both know youâre being obtuse on purpose, and you arenât sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.Â
âYou know what?â he rasps.Â
âWhat?â
Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. Youâre not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyuâs lap.Â
And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.Â
Youâre stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.Â
Itâs short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. âDoes that clear things up?â
Thereâs nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. âHm.â
He laughs at your half dazed state. Itâs a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. âMaybe one more time. To make sure.â
Mingyu doesnât even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. Thereâs more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.Â
The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good youâre already half faint.Â
His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you canât believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasnât some too vivid fever dream.Â
He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.Â
âFor the record,â he pants. âI love that you care. And I hope youâll keep caring. Because I donât think I can handle it if you walk away after this.â
Mouth back on his own, you decide thereâs only one way to convince him you werenât going anywhere without dragging him with you.Â
MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You arenât sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.Â
Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.Â
Like you would run away if he didnât, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head. Â
You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks youâve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.Â
âI went to a frat party,â Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. âFor Halloween.â
The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, âYou went to a frat party?â
He snorts, âDressed up for it too.â
âOh my god,â you voice in mild horror. âDo I wanna know?âÂ
âWonwoo and I matched,â he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. âI was Mario, he was Luigi.â
âHow adorable.â
He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they arenât wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.Â
âThing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,â he informs.Â
âThat mightâve been a little better.â
âWhatâs wrong with Mario?â he asks sharply.
âNothing. But I do hope you werenât sporting an Italian accent throughout that.âÂ
âI was,â he pushes. âA horrible one too.â
You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.Â
âYou couldâve gone as Peach. We couldâve matched.âÂ
âI donât know if Iâd wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.â You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.Â
âMaybe in private,â he says with an insufferable smile on his face.Â
Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. âIâm not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.âÂ
âWho?â
âYou and Wonwoo, youâre practically married.â
Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own thatâs stuck to him. âNot with whatever he has going on with his girl.â
âOh right,â you frown in remembrance. âWhat happened to not understanding how he does it?âÂ
âHm?â
âHeâs a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didnât know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.â
His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. âI may owe him an apology.â
âDo you?â
Mingyu frowns, âActually no I donât. I donât think he and his lady are doing too well right now. Heâs been insufferable lately.â
âIs it because of the TA-ing?â
âI never know with those two,â he sighs.
Thereâs silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like heâs trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.Â
âDo youâŚknow about us?â Thereâs hesitancy in the way you ask. But you canât help but ask anyway.
Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. âI know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know Iâm in it for the long run.â
âIâm glad youâre smarter than your husband,â you smile.
He only rolls his eyes, âHeâs only good at one kind of chemistry.âÂ
âDâyou think theyâll be okay?â
âOh yeah,â he assures. âTheyâre just going through aâŚrough patch.â
âLike we did?â
âIf youâre asking me, Iâd say theyâre being a little more stupid about it.â
The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, âTheyâll be okay though.â
âI hope so. Iâd like to go on double dates with my boyfriendâs husbandâs girlfriend.â You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.Â
âThis is getting weird,â Mingyu breathes.Â
You only hum against his mouth, âDo I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?â
âFor fuckâs sake.âÂ
Youâre both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you canât help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.Â
âI did the sticky note thing again too,â Mingyu says into the silence, and thereâs nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.Â
âSaid something worse this time,â he continues as you laugh into his chest. âAccept that youâll die alone or some other shit like that.âÂ
Thereâs comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary youâve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.Â
Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.Â
MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling youâve grown dangerously accustomed to.Â
It isnât that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply arenât on you enough.Â
The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You werenât avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.Â
You donât even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.Â
The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.Â
Youâre barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as youâre catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.Â
Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyuâs slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you arenât escaping the iron grip heâs got on your face.Â
Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.Â
âYou arenât actually paying attention in class anyway,â he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. âSo why donât you sit in the back where you donât distract me.â
âWho says Iâm not paying attention.â You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.Â
âYouâre paying attention to me.â
âIt was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.â
Heâs all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, âWas letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.â
If you didnât know any better you wouldâve assumed heâd been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man youâve been accustomed to. The fact that heâs whispering directly into your ears isnât helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.Â
It lands with precision, right at your core. Youâre too hot to tell, but there isnât a doubt youâve begun to pool.Â
Thereâs a ding in the background.Â
Heâs suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.Â
Another ding.Â
Heâs reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like heâs testing the waters.
Ding.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.Â
His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached witâs end.Â
âGyuâŚâ you whisper.Â
âIgnore it,â he growls. The ringing has stopped.Â
He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.Â
His phone begins to ring again.Â
Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you werenât sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.Â
He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.Â
The ringing stops.Â
Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you canât quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.Â
Thereâs a ding.Â
âMingyu, I really thinkââ
His phone begins to ring again.Â
âOh for fuckâs sake,â he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.Â
âYou should answer.âÂ
He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Choâs name on the screen. âItâs eleven Oâclock.âÂ
âIt might be important.â
âThe last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,â he grunts as he silences his phone.Â
You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyuâs hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, âNooooo, Iâm gonna ignore him.â
âHeâs not going to leave you alone,â you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.Â
As if to prove your point, Mingyuâs phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.Â
âGo on.â
He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, âHello?â
His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out whatâs being said on the other line. âWhere have you been?â
âItâs nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.â
âMy flash drive wonât open up on my computer.â
You have to stifle a snort.Â
âIs itâŚplugged in?â
âOf course it is, Iâm not an idiot.â
âIs it showing up on your files?â
âDiskâŚis notâŚformatted.â
âErm, it might be corrupted.â
âHow did that happen?â
âDid you download something off the internet onto it?â
âHardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!â
Your fingers are massaging Mingyuâs temples as you feel him tense on top of you.Â
âYour attendance sheet is on the teacherâs portal,â Mingyu grits before adding, âsir.â
â...I have other things on there too.â
Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. âThis sounds like something tech support could help with.â
âWhy canât you help?â he asks sharply.Â
âIâŚI donât know how, sir.â
Thereâs a noise of indignation from the other end, and you canât help but keep from laughing.Â
Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. âIâll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And Iâll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesdayâs classes.â
The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professorâs hung up as soon as the words left Mingyuâs mouth.Â
âWow,â you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyuâs head heavier on your chest. âNot even a thank you.â
âAbsent father behaviour,â Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.Â
Itâs a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.Â
âWill I be an asshole if I say Iâm not in the mood anymore?â he murmurs.Â
âAbsolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.â
âGross,â he comments, but heâs laughing too.Â
âShould we call it a night?â he asks, rearing his head.Â
Nodding, you rise with him. By the time youâve reached the bedroom, youâve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.Â
âI need a shower.â
Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.Â
âDo you wanna come in too?âÂ
Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. Youâve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.Â
THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.Â
Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.Â
You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he âdoesnât move to insanityâ. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.
Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyuâs chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.Â
It was a Friday night, youâre alone at Mingyuâs place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this weekâs tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.Â
Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldnât ask him for a thing.Â
Tired was a look on Mingyu youâd gotten quite used to, so youâve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.Â
His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.Â
Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. âDid you finish the tutorial paper?â
You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. âNot yet. One last question and Iâm done.â
He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan heâs pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. âAlright, letâs get this over with.â
âI can figure it out myself, Gyu.â
âYou wouldâve been done by now if you could,â he answers. Itâs annoying that he says it but heâs also right.Â
Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didnât look an inch from passing out.Â
He mumbles the question as he reads, âItâs nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and youâre done.â
The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.Â
âDid you get everything else?â he asks in earnest.Â
âHm? I think so.âÂ
âGood.â And then heâs throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.Â
Heâs in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throatâclean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but itâs only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.Â
Besides, itâs a Friday night. No reason to not.Â
âGyu,â you shuffle closer.Â
Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, âYeah?âÂ
You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. âDâyou thinkâŚdâyou think you can go over post hoc tests again?â
âPost hoc?â He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. Itâs an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.Â
Not that you care what he thinks right now, heâd figure out why you were asking anyway.Â
âPost hoc, um,â he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.Â
Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.Â
âAnalysis tool after youâve already run the data,â he begins.Â
Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.Â
âResults have to beâŚthey have to beâŚâ He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.Â
âHm? Has to be what?â
âStatistically significant,â he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. âTo run a post hoc test.â
His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something youâre both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. âResults of what, baby?â
âFor the love ofââ
âGo on,â you whisper in his ear. âPlease.â
One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. âANOVA.âÂ
âWhatâs that again?â
âYou little shit.â
You move your mouth forward to kiss him.
âAnalysis of variance.âÂ
You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, thatâs all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.Â
âWhatâs it for though? We already got our results.â Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where heâs most sensitive.Â
âUgh, fuck, for um,â he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.Â
âForâŚforâŚâ His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.Â
Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. âFor? Keep talking, baby.â
âForâŚTo identify groups,â he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. âIdentifyâŚthe differences, shit, hmph.â
He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, âIdentify which groups actually differ, oh my god.â
The bit of him that you canât fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.
âHow many groups?â you ask, before diving back in.Â
âThree,â he chokes out. âThree or more, oh Iâm gonna cum, fuck donât stop, holy shit.â
Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure itâs coarse enough to get the reaction you want.Â
You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan youâve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.Â
You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.Â
When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.Â
Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where heâs most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.Â
You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyuâs hoarse protests. Heâs almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time youâve hauled his tired ass into bed, youâre just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.Â
Mingyuâs face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.Â
âI might love you,â he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.Â
You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.Â
I might love you too.Â
You hide that as well. For now.Â
Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.
âFeel free.â
[Mingyu]: class ended earlyÂ
[Mingyu]: be there in 5Â
[You]: ???
[You]: wdym ended early
[You]: kim did u end class early to come home
Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. Youâd stayed the night at his place, knowing you didnât have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.Â
Heâd left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyuâs already overflowing plate now, you couldnât deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.Â
A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyuâs pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.
As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.Â
He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. âYouâre getting too comfortable with this job.â
âAm I?â
âYes.â
âCanât possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.â
You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. âHowâs the congestion?â
âBad,â you respond nasally. âI canât find my Afrin.â
âItâs on the bedside table, baby.â
âNo, itâs not.â
Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.
âIâm not awake enough to navigate,â you sniff.
âIâve got you,â he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.Â
The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.Â
You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. âTold you.â
Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.Â
âGood thing I came back early, hm?âÂ
âShut up.â
He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.
Thereâs nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriendâs eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.Â
âAre you gonna keep doing this till finals?â you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.Â
âTeaching during class time is just extended office hours, Iâm gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. OrâŚonce more if I feel it.â
âDidnât you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?âÂ
Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.Â
It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, youâve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.
âUgh, not this week. Do not have the patience.â
âIâm proud of you,â you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.Â
âThank you, I do think Iâve been very brave.â Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.Â
âWhatâs that for?!â
You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. âYouâve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. Iâm proud of you.â
Youâre too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.Â
MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round heâs smart enough to not tell you.Â
Itâs the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.Â
Thereâs a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.Â
Itâs Wonwooâs (actual) girlfriend, and sheâs sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwooâs living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.Â
Itâs a pillow fort.
Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husbandâs living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while heâs actively meant to be available for office hours.
You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isnât that youâre upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer heâd time them a little better.Â
Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.Â
[You]: where are you
[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?
[You]: office hours?
[Mingyu]: mhm
[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house
You imagine him sending Wonwooâs girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.Â
[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME
You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you wonât be tempted to look.Â
Besides, it wasnât long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.Â
âIâm sorry,â he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.Â
âWhatever for?â
âFor lying.âÂ
You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, âMight wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.â
Mingyuâs head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. âGod.â
âHim too.â
In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where youâre sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.Â
âRumour has it,â he starts.Â
You make a face. âNow youâve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.â
He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.Â
âThat a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.â
Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.Â
âTake a hike, Kim.â
â...Sorry.â
NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.Â
Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest itâs been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.Â
The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.Â
âWell?â he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.Â
You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.Â
âFor the record I didnât want some of the questions on there,â he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. âHard ones werenât mine. I promise Iâm not a sadist.â
Then, in an un-CCTVâd corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds youâve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.Â
In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge youâd gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.Â
Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. Thereâs a smile on your face. âIt went great.â
A strong tug against your waist and youâre suddenly pressed into Mingyuâs all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.Â
There wasnât much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.Â
In true Mingyu fashion, heâs begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You havenât been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.Â
It isnât remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyuâs hands havenât been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.Â
He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.
His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. Itâs marvellous, even more so as you realise he wonât stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.Â
Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. Youâre sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.Â
By the time heâs relented, youâre sure you wonât feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.Â
But as youâre finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasnât exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.Â
Mingyu was beautiful either way.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.Â
The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.Â
âMore than okay,â you mumble.Â
âGood. Thought I lost you there.â
Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. âYouâre not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devilâs module.â
âIs that all it takes? Make sure you donât fail?â
âAnd give head like that.â Itâs a half joke. âBut also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.â
He mimics you between a breathy laugh, âComma TA. Not anymore, I guess.â
âHow happy are you?â
âStill have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.â
âThe recommendation? You deserve it.â
âThat, and not having to be in Dr. Choâs presence every other day. And you.â
You kiss his shoulder. âLook at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.â
âNot just yet.â
âYouâll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.â
Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and thereâs comfort in the air it penetrates.
âI only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.â Heâs smiling.Â
âGirlfriend duties,â you quote solemnly.Â
âI mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didnât wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.â
You cup his face and pout, âOh, my damsel in distress.â
âHm, my knight in shining armour,â he giggles. âGalloped in and saved me from myself.â
âYou saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.âÂ
âIâll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.âÂ
You can only grumble in mild annoyance.Â
âIâm glad I asked you to come in early that day,â he says.
âIâm glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.â You grin.
Mingyu leans in and kisses you. Itâs soft, slow, and drips of the romance heâs trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.Â
Itâs almost scary how easily youâve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly heâs placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. Itâs terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.Â
But itâs true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyuâs limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.Â
âI think I might love you too.âÂ
#svthub#camandemstudios#mingyu fluff#mingyu angst#mingyu smut#mingyu fic#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#mingyu x reader#mingyu#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen smut#seventeen fic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen#svt fluff#svt angst#svt smut#svt x reader#svt#em.writes#seventeen fic recs#mingyu fic recs
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Overtime
Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isnât all that bad.
Pairings: Loki x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.
Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).
A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so itâs not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.
Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.
You donât think that Mobius intended to keep Lokiâs desk behind yours.
âItâs temporary,â he tells you apologetically. âHe just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.â
âYouâre talking about him like heâs a stray cat that you found,â you say.
âYou wonât even know heâs there, I promise.â
âYouâre still doing it.â
Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expressionâthe one that he always uses when heâs about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.
And itâs only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.
âOkay, fine,â you say. âBut heâd better be on his best behavior.â
Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. âThank you. You will not regret this, I promise.â
You sigh and shake your head. âJust remember this next time youâre budgeting for raises.â
But thenâin a move that you certainly donât expectâLoki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray youâve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Lokiâs temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobiusâ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.
Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Lokiâsâalmost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVAâs extensive library and then youâre immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasnât even there before.
Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Lokiâs presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didnât know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesnât help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you donât think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who donât really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. Itâs a strong departure from the way he interacts with othersâwith others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. Itâs a difference that is so stark that you canât help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.
âHowâs it going with Loki?â Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Lokiâs temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. âHeâs behaving himself, right?â
âItâs been fine,â you say, âthough truthfully, I donât think he likes me all that much.â
âWhat? Of course he likes you,â Mobius says. âWhy wouldnât he like you? Youâre lovely.â
You shrug. âI dunno, heâs just different with me than he is with everyone else. LikeâŚoverly polite. Itâs like he thinks Iâm going to send him to the principalâs office or something.â
âLet me get this straight,â says Mobius. âFirst you were worried that he wouldnât behave himself and now youâre worried that heâs too well-behaved?â
Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, youâre not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobiusâ mouth suggests that he knows this.
âNo, I justâŚI donât think he likes me all that much,â you say. âAnd heâs entitled to that. People donât like each other all the time, itâs not a big deal.â
This is also a little bit of a lieâyou do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic itâs hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, wellâŚthat doesnât help either.
Mobius sighs. âI think youâre overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. Heâs a bit of a prickly guy.â
You bite down the urge to point out that youâve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.
âWell, the point is that itâs fine,â you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. âI donât have any complaints, he seems like heâs settling in, so letâs move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?â
The furrow between Mobiusâ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesnât fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.
This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.
Youâre not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.
The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. Itâs hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, wellâŚeverywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemesâhe was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politicsâpick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and thereâs a good chance youâll also find Charles Berlitz.
Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the yearsâa shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a cornerâbut nothing concrete or substantive.
âOur ghost in the timeline,â Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.
Time moves differently at the TVA, so itâs hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but itâs not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You arenât entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.
And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.
Itâs near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, heâs got twenty minutes of work left, but youâre not about to tell him that.
You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, youâve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.
âOh, great, youâre both still here.â
In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.
Also not a great sign.
Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. âThereâs been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.â
âItâs Friday,â says Loki, affronted. âSurely it can wait until Monday.â
âNo can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,â says Mobius. âThis is an all hands on deck situation.â
Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.
âAll hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,â Mobius concedes. âWhich is why I need the two of youââ He points to you. âYou because youâre goodââ He gestures to Loki. âAnd you because youâve got desk duty.â
âI beg your pardonââ begins Loki.
âHeâs grounded,â Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.
This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.
You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Lokiâs helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. âWhat do you need me to find?â
âAnything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,â says Mobius. âIâll go get the rest.â
Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. âThereâs more?â you say.
âItâll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!â he calls over his shoulder
You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though theyâd wronged him personally.
Thereâs a long moment of silence before you speak. âIs there any truth to the rumor Iâve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?â you ask.
âIf it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,â he says rather tonelessly.
âWell.â You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. âAt least it was worth it.â
That at least earns you a hint of a smile.
*
Several hours later, your stomach is growling and youâve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.
You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonightâs work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.
You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you werenât quite so tired, youâd been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now youâre hoping that youâll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.
Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat somethingâyouâd worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but thereâs a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.
You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. âIâm gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,â you say. âDo you want anything?â
Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. âIâd like to stretch my legs a bit, if you donât mind the company.â
You honestly didnât expect him to want to join you. Itâs a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. Heâs so handsome and aloof and youâre not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.
But youâre also not about to say no, either.
âOf course,â you say, âI donât mind at all.â
The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of nightâthe steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Lokiâlike your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.
âAre you finding much?â asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.
You shrug. âA bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. Iâm not having as much luck with the Luccheses.â
âIâve got all of their property transfers, I think,â he says. âRenato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didnât like.â
âOr racehorses, from what I understand,â you say. âI think thatâs how he lost most of his money.â
You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.
âThis is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?â he says.
You shrug. âYeah, whatâs wrong with this?â
He points at the coffee machine. âMobius calls that machine Satanâs coffeemaker, does he not?â
âYes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something thatâs almost palatable,â you say.
Loki gives you a rather dry look. âSomething thatâs almost palatable?â
âI mean, Iâm just trying to manage your expectations. Itâs still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.â
He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. âCome on, letâs go.â
Itâs your turn to look skeptical. âWhat are we doing?â
âWeâre going out for dinner.â
*
He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frankâs thatâs maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. Itâs one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.
âI wouldnât have thought this kind of place was your style,â you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.
âIâve expanded my horizons,â he says, sliding into the seat across from you.
An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading âConnieâ in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.
âHow yâall doinâ tonight?â she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. âYou want your usual?â
âPlease,â he says.
âYou got it.â She turns to you. âHow âbout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?â
âCoffee would be great.â
âAll right, Iâll be right back with your drinks.â
You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. âYou eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.â
He returns your pleasantly amused expression. âAnd you have vending machine coffee for dinner. Itâs a revealing night.â
âI mean, I donât actively seek it out,â you say. âItâs a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.â
âNo other choice?â A sly smile curls at his lips. âDo you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?â
âWell, first of all, we arenât supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisorâs approval.â
âTechnically.â
âNo, actually. Itâs in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.â
He raises an eyebrow. âYou would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?â
You bite back a laugh. âYou know sheâs not actually our boss, right?â
âI canât discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.â
Connie is back with your drinksâcoffee for you and tea for Loki. âSunday Special?â she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.
âPlease,â he says.
âYou got it.â She looks at you. âDidya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?â
Youâre feeling a little daring. âIâll try the Sunday Special as well.â
âAll right, two Sunday Specials cominâ right up,â she says, collecting your menus.
âSo, whatâs in a Sunday Special?â you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.
âBoiled fish eggs, mainly,â he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.
âLiar,â you say promptly.
He raises an eyebrow. âYou didnât even look at the menu, how could you know?â
âPlaces like this donât serve fish eggs,â you say. âWay too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.â
âI suppose youâll just have to see,â he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that youâve seen him use with the others is on full display and itâs enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesnât dislike you after all.
âWell, if itâs fish eggs, youâre picking up the bill,â you say, âand Iâll be getting something else instead.â
âYouâd really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?â
âYep. And I donât even feel bad about it.â
He raises an eyebrow. âI didnât realize you could be so unforgiving.â
âWell, you donât know me all that well.â
âTo be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.â
âA little bit,â you say. âBut also to be fair, you havenât really asked.â
âOn work time?â he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. âThat would mean write ups for both of us, I couldnât let that happen.â
âI think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.â
He gives you a sly smile, like youâve caught him out and he likes it. âThatâs a diplomatic way to put it.â He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. âWell, weâre on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.â
You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. âWhat do you want to know?â
âWell, this canât be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?â
That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. Itâs a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, itâs a bit more complicated.
âWell,â you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. âI donât actually knowâI chose not to remember when they gave me the option.â
Youâre surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. âMy apologies,â he says, âI didnât realize.â
âItâs okay,â you say and you really do mean it. âYou couldnât have known.â
Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way heâs looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesnât mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.
âWhen they told us everything and said they could fix our memoriesâŚâ You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. âItâs weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldnât be good for me to knowâŚthat something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sureâŚâ You swallow, blinking hard.
You remember how sad Mobiusâ eyes were, how heâd gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, âI think youâre making the right call, kid.â
âItâs not really okay, is it?â Loki says softly.
You shrug. âI mean, itâsâŚit is what it is.â
âYouâre a terrible liar, you know.â
âItâs not a lieââ
He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.
âItâs more likeâŚI canât really miss what I donât know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.â
Thereâs a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. âIâm not really sure if that makes sense,â you say.
âIt does.â
Thereâs a silence between you, but itâs not uncomfortable.
âDo youâŚdo you think youâd want to forget if you had that option?â Youâre not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. âIâm sorry, thatâs probably too personal.â
He shakes his head and thereâs a warmth in his eyes that you donât expect. âI rather think I owe you one.â He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. âSometimes I do,â he says finally. âIt can be quite painful remembering.â He worries his lip between his teeth. âBut Iâm not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.â His gaze flicks back to you. âWhatâs it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?â
Itâs a good questionâone youâve never been asked. âI mean, itâs hard to say for sure. I think I do,â you say. âSometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasnâtâmaybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.â
He chuckles. âThat doesnât seem likely.â
âI dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,â you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. âOr maybe Iâm the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I canât see.â You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. âAt the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. Iâm all thatâs left. Itâs sad, but itâs also freeing, in a way.â
He nods. âMobius has said much the same.â
You smile slightly. âOur philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.â
Loki grins. âItâs the jet skis, isnât it?â
âI mean, I just donât think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.â
Loki holds up a finger. âBut have you gotten the lecture about Yamahaâs braking system?â
âI think I have that memorized at this point.â
ââThe perfect choice for families.ââ
ââYou just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.ââ
ââReliability meets affordability.ââ
ââYou canât say no to that.ââ
You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but youâre interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.
The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfastâeggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.
âDefinitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,â you say to Loki after Connie leaves.
His smile is small, but genuine. âYou havenât looked under the pancakes yet.â
You feel it then, but you donât fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, itâs like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And youâre surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.
Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation.Â
Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: youâd left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.
âFucking hell,â you sigh, running a hand through your hair. Youâre not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, itâs all three.
âHere.â Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. âClear off some space on your deskâIâll help.â
Twenty minutes later, youâve set up an entirely new systemâLoki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when youâve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, itâs a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.
âIâve invented a new game,â he says some time later.Â
âWhatâs that?â
âEvery time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.â
You look up at him. âLook, I know youâre a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.â
He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. âI think it would add a little excitement to the evening, donât you?â
You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. âYou mean this isnât your idea of a fun Friday night?â
âMy idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,â he says, taking a new file from the cart.
You glance at the clock. âWell, itâs only eleven. I donât usually start body shots until after midnight.â
âWhat are body shots?â
For one horrifying moment, you think that youâre going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.
Heâs teasing you.
âYouâre an ass,â you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file youâre holding.
He wags a finger at you. âThatâs workplace violence. Iâm going to have to report that.â
You lean back in your chair and return to your file. âIâm pretty confident that youâll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.â
He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. âUncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.â Thereâs a brief pause. âAndâŚthereâs another racehorse.â
You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. Itâs nice, though. Yes, itâs sorting files and yes, itâs not the most intellectually riveting task youâve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. Itâs because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.
But around two, you canât quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.
âHey.â Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and youâre glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.
âI think youâd better call it a night,â he says gently. âGet some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.â
âWhat about you?â you say. âAre you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?â
He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.
âIâm starting to fade a bit myself,â he says
âVery convenient,â you say and he grins at you.
âCome on, Iâll see you back home.â
Part of you wants to protestâthereâs really no need for him to walk you homeâbut a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.
Thereâs a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together.Â
âWhat time do you think youâre going to come in tomorrow?â he asks as you approach the residential wing. âItâs probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.â
âYeah, thatâs a good point,â you say. âI was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.â
âYes, about that,â he says. âI cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.â
âWell, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.â
He clicks his tongue. âYouâre not making a compelling case for yourself.â
âTo be fair, itâs quite late and Iâve been staring at files for hours.â
âAll the more reason to get decent coffee,â he says. âWeâre going out for breakfast.â
You raise an eyebrow. âOh, we are?â
âConsider it an intervention,â he says. âIâll come collect you at eight.â
Youâre not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if heâs flirting with you and this counts as a date.
âWhere are we going?â
âI know a place.â
*
The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.
âShould I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?â you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.
Loki scoffs. âI donât have a supervisor.â
âYou do. Itâs Mobius.â
âThat canât be right, weâre peers.â
âYouâre absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?â
He ignores your question. âI donât see why Iâd even need a supervisor, honestly.â
You snort. âNeed I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?â
He spreads his hands in front of him. âItâs not my fault that Iâm the only one with a sense of humor.â
âIâm not entirely sure that was the problem,â you say. âGerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.â
Loki waves a dismissive hand. âHeâll be fine, the tail isnât permanent. Now, are you coming or not?â
You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that youâre walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.
The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like heâs a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes heâs ever seen. You are fairly certain heâs exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.
âI canât believe you fell for that,â says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.
âFell for what?â you say, batting your eyes at him. âI do have beautiful eyes.â
âIâve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.â
âYeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.â
He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it.Â
You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.
âIt is good coffee, Iâll give you that,â you say.
âSee,â says Loki, âyou canât go back to that vending machine sludge after this.â
âI mean, if itâs eleven oâclock at night and Iâm on a deadline, I can.â
âDarling. You have a TemPad.â
âLoki. Read the personnel manual.â
He wrinkles his nose. âItâs not really my genre.â
You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. âWhat is your genre?â
He raises an eyebrow. âIs that a serious question?â
âOf course it is,â you say. âI love talking about books.â
He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. âA little bit of everything, honestly,â he says. âPhilosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.â
âIâve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timelineâhave you checked there yet?â
He frowns. âIâm not familiar.â
âOh, youâd like itâitâs on the eighteenth floor. Itâs intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,â you say. âIt started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. Theyâve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.â
Itâs like youâve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. âWill you show me?â
He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. Itâs sweetly endearing.
âOf course.â
Ten minutes later, youâre leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. Youâre not surprised he hasnât heard about the libraryâitâs a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that itâs not terribly easy to find.
The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.
Thereâs a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doorsâalmost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.
You touch his hand. âThis way.â
You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.
âYou can borrow whichever ones you like,â you say softly. âThereâs a sign out sheet at the front desk.â
He nods, though you donât think he really hears youâhe only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like theyâre old friends. Youâre about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. âOh, you canât be serious.â
âWhat is it?â
They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest mindsââ he plucks a book off the shelf, ââand they choose to include this?â
The title looks fairly innocuousâa red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. âWhatâs the problem with this?â
âItâs inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.â
This is the Loki that youâre more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled âThe Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.â
You bite back a laugh and look up at him. âItâs a romance novel.â
âPrecisely my point,â he says. âTo think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.â
âThatâs kind of how libraries work,â you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases âthrobbing lengthâ and âeager moansâ draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. âOh, and itâs a sexy romance novel.â
âIt appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.â
âWhat, so youâre too good for a bodice ripper?â
He scoffs. âI prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.â
You are glad youâre looking at the book because youâre pretty sure youâd disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. âOh spare me,â you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. âIâm gonna read this.â
He blows out a puff of air. âItâs a waste of your time.â
âIâve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,â you say cheekily. âBesides, Iâm curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.â
Loki sputters. âPrude? Darling, let me assure you, Iâm no prudeââ
âIâll leave you to browse,â you say with a grin as you turn away from him. âCome find me at the front when youâre ready to go.â
Youâre a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.
You close your book with a snap. âThis book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that youâre no fun.â
He scoffs. âIâm very fun.â
âCouldâve fooled me.â
You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than youâd planned. You canât quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Lokiâs wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.
Thereâs a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.
âThank you,â he says softly.
âFor what?â
âFor showing me that.â
âOf course. Iâm sorry you didnât know about it sooner.â
He looks at you, lips parting slightly like heâs about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.
For just a secondâone heady, slightly irrational secondâyou think he might be about to kiss you.
The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.
Loki gestures to the elevator doors. âAfter you.â
There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.
You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branchesâoften, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.
But you know that the possibility of that momentâwhat if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braverâyou know thatâs something thatâs going to haunt you for a while.
*
You wouldnât give up that time in the library for anythingâitâs one of those moments that feels formative, something that youâll return to again and again for one reason or another.
But itâs also true that itâs time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you canât help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.
âWeâre not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?â you say with a sigh.
Itâs getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that youâd brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.
Loki eyes the remaining files. âI think we might. We made good progress today.â
You rub your eyes. âMy brain feels like itâs about to leak out my ears.â
Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. âI think that might be a sign itâs time to turn in,â he says.
âThereâs still so much left.â
âThereâs still tomorrow.â
You reach for the file. âWell, let me justââ
He pulls your hand away from the pile. âYou can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if youâre this tired, youâre not going to do good work anyway.â
He squeezes your hand and drops it. Itâs brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.
You shake the thought away. Itâs late and youâre tired.
You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. âI hate it when youâre right.â
To his credit, he only smirks a little. âCome on. Iâll walk you back.â
Once again, thereâs no reason for him to do this, but once again, youâre inclined to let him.
You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. Youâre trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that youâll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.
As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosivesâyouâre not sure what kind.
âI think someone brought work home,â you say with a sigh.Â
This happens from time to timeâthings get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as âbringing work homeâ and the name had stuck.
âWasnât there an incident in this wing not long ago?â asks Loki.
âYes.â You sigh, running a hand through your hair. âI had to call off the next dayâI got no sleep that night.â You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. âBut maybe itâs almost over,â you say with an optimism you donât fully feel. âSometimes these things are resolved really quick.â
Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.
And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21âyouâve worked with her on a couple of missions before.
âAre you fucking kidding me?â slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.
âThereâs an ongoing incident in this area,â says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit.Â
âHow long do you think itâs gonna be closed off?â you ask.
She shrugs. âWeâre at a code 54 right now, but itâs probably gonna escalate.â
With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, thereâs an almighty crash and a low bellow.
âGo!â she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.
Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.
Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, itâs meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Lokiâs firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.
But thereâs a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesnât seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.
You havenât even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothesâŚassuming the incident resolves by thenâ
âYou can stay with me,â says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.
âOh, thatâs okay, Iâll justââ
âIf you say youâre going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.â
âSounds like a great place to fall asleep,â you say.
His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. âYouâre staying with me tonight.â
You sigh, but you canât think of a counterpoint. âWhen did you get so bossy?â
âDarling, Iâm a prince,â he says with a bit of a wry smirk. âItâs my birthright.â
Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yoursâheâs got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And booksâso many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. Itâs no wonder he was so excited about the library.
âHave a seat,â he says, gesturing to the couch. âIâll get some things for you.â
You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathyâitâs like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and thereâs something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.
He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.
âHere,â he says, handing you the pile. âBathroomâs just down the hall. Iâll make up a bed for you.â
âThanks.â
In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas heâs given you arenât the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if heâd loaned you a standard set. They donât fit quite right on you, but theyâll work well enough for tonight.
You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.
When you return to the living room, you expect to find that heâs made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroomâit would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.
You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.
You exhale slowly. âPlease tell me you are not giving up your bed.â
âDonât be absurd, of course I am,â he says without even looking up from his book. âThe point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.â
You wish you had something to throw at him. âYou donât even fit on that couch.â
âLuckily, my knees bend. Besides, youâre a guest,â he says, as though that settles it.
You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. âIâm not moving until you give up the couch.â
He finally looks up from his book. âYouâre really going to do this?â
You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. âIâm not the one being unreasonable. Iâm simply meeting you at your level.â
âIf you think that Iâm being unreasonable and youâre also saying youâre meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?â
âItâs nearly one oâclock in the morning. Iâm not arguing semantics with you.â
âFine.â His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. âBut youâre still not sleeping on the couch.â
âOh, youâre going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,â you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.
Heâs walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: youâll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.
Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.
âI suppose I should have expected that,â he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look heâs giving you.
âProbably,â you say. âGod of mischief and all.â You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. âYou can let me go now.â
He laughs. âIâm afraid I canât. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I wonât be making that error again.â
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you say, trying again to squirm away from him. âLet me go.â
âThe interesting thing about all of this is that youâve made a rather substantial tactical error,â he says, continuing as though he canât hear you.
âYouâre bluffing,â you say with more confidence than you feel.
âFascinating theory,â he says, âbut I donât think itâs going to work out for you.â
With that same ridiculous speed, heâs suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.
âHey!â you shout in protest.
âI warned you,â he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.
This is not exactly how youâve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.
Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.
âThis is ridiculous,â you say.
âYou brought this upon yourself.â Heâs walking into the bedroom and a moment later, heâs lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.
You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but heâs clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.
He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.
âI donât mean to be patronizing,â he says, failing to bite back a laugh, âbut itâs adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.â
That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.â You canât quite keep the laugh from your voice.
He grins. âNot a chance.â
You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.
It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesnât seem to affect his strength or speed at all.
Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain thereâs no way out of this oneâheâs got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. Youâre both a little out of breath.
âYield,â he says.
You shake your head. âNever.â
His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. âYield.â
âNo.â
Something has changed. Thereâs an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but youâre afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net.Â
But the way heâs looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lipsâŚthatâs not nothing.
âYield.â
You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. âNo.â
Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?
âYield.â
God, heâs so close and you want him so badly.Â
âNo.â
He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.
They call him Silvertongueâyouâve heard the jokes, youâve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that thereâs an element of truth there because only seconds in and youâre ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Lokiâs tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes youâyou would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.
âYield,â he breathes against your lips.
âNo,â you say.
He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.
He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.
âLet me touch you,â you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhereârun your hands along every muscle youâve admired from afar.Â
âThen yield,â he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.
You consider this for a moment. You could give inâthere arenât really any stakes at this point and youâre pretty sure youâre both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.
âNo,â you say.
âSuch a pity,â says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.
His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.
âCheater,â you say.Â
âI think this is only fair,â he says, his hands sliding to your hips. âIâm clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?â
You shiver. âYour prize?â
âYes.â He kisses down the column of your throat. âMy lovely, lovely prize.â
âHow can I be your prize if Iâm also your competitor?â
âYou think too much,â he mumbles against your neck.
âYou say that like itâs a bad thing.â
âGenerally, itâs not.â He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. âBut in this case, itâs distracting you from more pressing matters.â His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants.Â
âHave I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?â he asks. Thereâs a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.
âYou have not,â you say.
âA casualty of too much thinking,â he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. âYou look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.â His eyes glitter with mischief. âAlmost.â His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. âMay I?â
You nod. âYes.â
He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.
Youâve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
âGorgeous,â he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. âThatâs it,â he purrs, âI want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.â
You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Itâs the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.
Heâs taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you canât take it any more and breathe his name like itâs a prayer.
You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that heâs big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesnât fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.
His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.
Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.
âLoki.â His name falls from your lips with a sigh.
âWhat is it, my love?â
âTouch me,â you breathe. âPlease.â
You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.
âBeautiful,â he murmurs.Â
You believe him.
His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.
âDo you know what an utter distraction itâs been sitting behind you?â he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.
You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. âTell me,â you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.
âEvery time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.â
You manage a sly smirk. âAnd here I thought you didnât like me much at all.â
His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.
âIâve wanted you from the moment I saw you,â he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. âI kept you at armâs length partly as a matter of protection.â
For who?â
âYou,â he says. âIâm not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variantââ
âYouâre not,â you say.
âSome would disagree.â
âWell, theyâre wrong,â you say. âYouâre not a dangerous variant. Youâre Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.â
Thereâs something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.
âYou should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,â he says solemnly.
You raise an eyebrow. âOh really? And why is that?â
âBecause it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.â
Youâre surprised youâre not shaking, you want him so badly. âWhat kinds of wicked things?â
âOh, all manner of wicked things.â He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. âThings with my mouth...â His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. ââŚmy handsâŚâ He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. âMy cock.â
A shiver works its way up your spine. âSo if I talk about how I think youâre really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?â
The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. âIf you keep talking like that, Iâm not going to let you leave my bed for days.â
âYou know thatâs not a disincentive, right?â you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. âIâve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.â
âIâll make it weeks if youâre not careful.â
âAgain, not a disincentive.â You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that theyâre still firmly secured. Itâs exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think heâs going.
âWhat else should I tell you?â you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. âYou know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that Iâd make a fool of myself.â
That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.
âI know you like to act like youâre this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think thereâs more good in you than youâd like people to believe.â
This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if youâll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.
âAnd,â you say, trying to keep your voice steady, âyesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and youâre even more wondââ
Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.
You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Lokiâs tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that heâd kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.
âOh my god, Loki.â Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. Thereâs no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and youâre not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.
He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.
Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.
You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. Itâs so good and so much and you are almost there.
You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldnât imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.
This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.
Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.
It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.
âAnd to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.â
âIt wasnât that I wanted to sleep on the couch, itâs thatââ Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.
âItâs what?â he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.
âFuckâyouâre not playing fair, you canât justââ You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. âYou canât justâfuck, yesâyou canâtâŚoh god, yes, just like that.â
His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?
âYou canât justâfuckâwin an argument byââ
Youâre trying to say that he canât expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.
You have stopped trying to complete that sentenceâyou moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.
You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.
âNow, what was it you were saying, my love?â he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. âSomething about how I canât just win an argument by making you come? I couldnât quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.â
âOh, you think youâre so smart,â you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.
âYou know what I think?â he says, settling himself on his side next to you. âI think you liked submitting to me.â
You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine.Â
âYou did, didnât you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.â
âYou are enjoying this far too much,â you say.
âI am enjoying it the correct amount.â
You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. âI think youâre wearing too many clothes,â you say.
He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. âYes, perhaps itâs time we even things up.â
You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.
You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what youâre doing.
âInteresting strategy.â Thereâs a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. âBut I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.â
He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.
Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thighâheâs big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.
He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.
After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.
âI need to be inside you,â he rasps.
âYes,â you breathe.
He rolls on top of you and youâre not sure that youâve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that youâd longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.
He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. Itâs decadent and dreamy and perfect.
But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legsâan ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against youâproves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.
You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping heâll get the hint.
He does.
He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.
He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and youâre not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know itâs good and right.
He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.
âYou feel better than I ever imagined,â he says.
You quirk an eyebrow at him. âYou imagined?â
He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. âLike I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.â
His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss thatâs somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.
He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.
He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.
âDo you have any idea how good you feel?â he breathes.
You are shaking. âLoki, Iâm gonna come.â
âI know you are,â he purrs. âLet go for me, let me feel you, my love.â
With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.
He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like itâs the only thing that will save you.
âYouâre beautiful when you come,â he breathes. âAbsolutely stunning.â
He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you donât know how it can still feel so good.
He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.
You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.
âI want you to come for me,â you breathe.
He grins at you. âOh, I will, but not yet. Youâre not done yet.â
You whimper. âLokiââ
âTwo more, my love, two more and then Iâll come for you.â
Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, heâs panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise youâve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that youâre going to take him over the edge with you this time.
You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.
As in everything else he does, heâs unfairly beautifulâhe throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.
It seems to last a long time and itâs another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.
After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he canât bear to be parted from you even for a moment.
You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.
You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.
You donât know it then, but youâre right.
*
Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, thereâs a ring in a box on your desk.
Loki likes a spectacle and youâd daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.
âI do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,â you say to Loki.
âIsnât the point of eloping that no one knows until after itâs done?â says Loki.
âYes, but I feel like we could make one exception,â you say. âIf weâd done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.â
Lokiâs gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. âAll right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man canât keep a secret.â
But Mobius doesnât seem terribly surprised when you tell himâin fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.
âI didnât have a chance to wrap it yet,â he says. Heâs retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. âSoâŚthis also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.â
You raise your eyebrows. âA confession?â
âA confession,â says Mobius.
âWill I be angry about this?â asks Loki at the same time you say, âIs this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?â
Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. âGod, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.â He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. âItâs not bad, I promise.â Another sip of coffee.Â
Loki sighs. âHe always does this,â he says to you. âHave you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.â
âOkay,â you say, âbut you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesnât help.â
âIâm not bickering,â says Loki. âIâm simply pointing out that heâs stallingââ
âWhat was it you were saying, Mobius?â you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.
Mobiusâ eyes twinkle. âSee,â he says to Loki, âI always liked her. Itâs a good match.â
You donât have to look at Loki to know heâs rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesnât notice.
âAnyway,â says Mobius, taking a deep breath, âit was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.â He points to Loki. âEspecially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.â
Loki frowns. âWhat are you talking about?â
Mobius sighs. âAnytime you like someone, itâs like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.â
Loki scoffs. âI donât do that at all.â
âYou do. Itâs deeply weird. Youâre like a mannerly robot.â
Loki turns to you. âDarling, tell him heâs being absurd.â
You reach over and squeeze his hand. âYou did call me âmy ladyâ a couple of times in the early days.â
Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. âWhat was your point in mentioning this?â
âWell,â says Mobius, âyou seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.â
âWhat do you mean?â
Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. âThere wasnât a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.â
Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobiusâ eyes twinkle.
âWait,â you say, âyou lied to us?â
âI did not lie,â says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. âThat would have been wrong.â He nods at Loki. âAlso, it wouldâve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.â
âBut the office was empty that weekend,â says Loki.
Mobius snaps his fingers. âRight. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.â
âAnd the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?â
Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. âAll me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.â
Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. âI donât think I can be mad about this. Iâm genuinely impressed.â
âI mean, I canât argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you couldâve just set us up on a blind date,â you say.
âAh, but thatâs not as fun,â Mobius says. âPlus, it wouldnât have made for as good a wedding gift.â He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.
Itâs both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.
âHonestly, Iâm just relieved itâs not a jet ski,â says Loki.
âHe's deflecting,â you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.
âI know,â he whispers back.
But you canât help but notice that Lokiâs eyes are brighter than normal.
âOkay, now get out of here,â says Mobius. âYouâve got a wedding to get to.â
Twenty minutes later, youâre wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.
âTechnically, we donât have a supervisorâs approval for this,â you say with a wry smile.
He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. âI had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.â
Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. âThen hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.â
He grins and tugs you through the time door.
-------
But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.
#loki smut#loki x reader#loki x reader smut#loki laufeyson smut#loki x female reader smut#loki x female reader#loki laufeyson#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#tva loki x reader
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MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo
| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"
pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader
summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.
warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, publicÂż sex, cursing, mdni
a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long đ part two here !!
~~~
she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.
her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.
chris: u busy?
she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.
y/n: hi to you too
y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up
chris: having fun?
chris: when u gonna be home ma?
y/n: like in an hour or so
chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya
y/n: you do???
she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.
chris: hell yeah i do
chris: get ur ass out here
she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.
y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address
chris: omw gorgeous
chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.
after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.
chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.
he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."
she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.
she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.
"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.
she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.
"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.
"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.
he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."
"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."
"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."
"see, and that's crazy."
chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.
"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."
"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"
chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...
once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."
chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."
she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.
"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.
he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.
"c'mere."
her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.
"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.
"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"
she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.
"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.
"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"
"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.
"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.
"shut up for once, yeah?"
"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.
she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.
she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.
"god, i hate that i missed you so much."
it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.
"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"
she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.
"yeah... i did"
he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.
"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.
"want me to show you?"
he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.
"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."
his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."
he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.
"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.
"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"
she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.
"show me how much you missed this dick then."
she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.
"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. heâs holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and heâs missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.
he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.
"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."
she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasnât experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.
âfuck.. just like thatâ one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."
he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.
"chris i-"
she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.
"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"
she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"
"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"
"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.
she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.
"chris!"
but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.
"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.
"yeah, baby?"
she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."
he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.
"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."
chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.
"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.
"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."
she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.
"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"
she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.
"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.
his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.
"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."
he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."
she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.
"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."
she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.
"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."
"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."
he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.
"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.
he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."
she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"
chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.
"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."
with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.
"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.
"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."
"im paying this time."
"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"
"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.
"soooo... round two?"
"christopher, i swear to god."
_____________________________
a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long đ tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo x fem reader#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo#smut#dealer chris
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new rules
pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" đ
Youâre in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.
DO NOT PICK UP
You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.
And then it lights up again.
Just ignore it. Just ignore it.
As youâre spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.
Itâs a bad idea. Itâs always a bad idea.Â
But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what youâre going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isnât going to happen againâ
And then you hear his voice. Itâs just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.
âHi, baby-â
Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.
âHi Logan.â
â
âItâs been too long, sweetheart-âÂ
âYeah, well-â you sigh. You know how this always goes. âI told you not to call.â
âBut you answered.âÂ
Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.
âSooo-,â you venture, âIs there something you need?â
It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You werenât gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.
"Just you, hon,â his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.
âYou know itâs nearly midnight, donât you? Are you ever gonna call me when youâre sober?â
You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.
âWhat do you want, Logan?â
He takes a deep breath.
âCan I come over? Iâve just been missing you. Been a rough day.â
âNo.â
âPlease, baby? I need you. Please?â
You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but youâre well beyond that now.
Itâs always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.
âCan take care of you, princess-â he pleads.
âI hate when you call me that. And no, you canât. You canât even take care of yourself, Howlett.â
He huffs a laugh. âBeen doinâ alright a couple hundred years. Keepinâ myself alive.â
You donât want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.
Is this really living?
âFine. You can come over.â
âIâll be there in five.â
âMotherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?â
With a snort, he ends the call.
Heâs on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you rememberâ heâs all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance.Â
With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.
He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady heâd always be there to break your fall.
When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble.Â
Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.
It sends a shiver down your spine.
Youâve missed this. Fuck youâve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you?Â
You need to gain some control back.
âCondom,â you tell him.Â
He rolls his eyes.
âIâm not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.â
He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.
Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin.Â
In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.
âYou got a little boyfriend?â he asks, and you feel your face heat.
âShut the fuck up, Logan.â
âNow Iâm not seeing the Magnumâs in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you canât even bother to pick up the phone?â
âThe condoms are just in caseâ better to be preparedâ and besides itâs none of your fucking business if Iâm sleeping with anyone else!â
âYou know I canât get STIs, right?â
You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.
âAnd if youâre so worried,â he continues, âIâll buy you Plan B.â
âMove,â you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, heâs right. Not a single gold packet in sight.
You groan, and he laughs.
You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because itâs not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. Itâs the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything.Â
The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything heâs done, everything heâs been through, everything heâs lostâ you canât bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.
But now heâs straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and youâre so overwhelmed by the way heâs pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat.Â
You donât realize youâre both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-
He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.
After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.
For a gut-wrenching second, you think heâs changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? Heâs not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.
But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.
âJesus Christ,â he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, âYouâre tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no oneâs been takinâ care of this pussy, huh?â
Two fingers become three, and youâre overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.
âThatâs it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no oneâs been fuckinâ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if youâd let me.â
He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as youâre about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. Youâre beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake.Â
He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust heâs burying himself so deeply youâd swear you could feel him in your belly.
âYouâre openinâ up so nice, takinâ it so good,â he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. âBeen missinâ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missinâ your old man, too?â
You donât even register heâs asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. Itâs not painful, it doesnât even sting. And it does exactly what heâd hoped; it refocuses you on him.
âWha- What?â you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-
âHave you been missinâ your old man, princess?Â
âFuck you, Logan.â
âUse your words.â
âYes-â
âYes, what?â
âYes Iâve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. Câmon now, fuck me like you mean it.â
You canât deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.
It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. Heâs pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.
Heâs panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple.Â
As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.
Heâs never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder.Â
Youâre boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.
At least you got those tide pens.Â
You want to tell him off about the headboardâthe splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadnât gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.
You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.
â-
You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you itâs 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.
You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.
Back to this-
"Go home, Logan.â You tell him, and he startles at your voice.
"Baby- I been havinâ bad dreams-âÂ
You cut him off. "Iâll call you a cab. Youâre not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-â
"Sweetheart,â he cuts in, âYou know it never sticks-âÂ
He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and itâs mean. Makes your stomach flip.
This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. Youâd both been pretending for so long.
You leave the room.
A minute later, youâre back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.
"Get dressed.â You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. âCabâs on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.â
He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, itâs making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.
"You wanna know why?â He asks, and it comes out slurred.
You ignore him. âIâll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?â
He nods again. Looks like heâs trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.
You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.
A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, heâs only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than heâs ever let you see before.
"When I drink I donât dream-,â he tells you, âClaws donât come out.â
Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.
You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.
You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.
And then one night you get a text.Â
Heâs rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.
DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video
With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.
Youâre not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god heâs not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. Itâs a fear thatâs bounced around in your head for a while now, but youâd never ask just in case he hasnât thought of it yet himself.
Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin andâ
Itâs anticlimactic. Kind of.
Itâs just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.
There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You canât see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know heâs fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.
This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.
You hit play.Â
At first, you can barely tell itâs a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. Heâs holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.
âYou gonna stop ignoring me?â he asks, his voice a throaty purr. âQuit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.â
AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.
Three dots appear and you know that he knows youâve seen it.Â
A moment later, the text comes through.
âReady for you, princess.â
God, if only it would take more than that.
As if overtaken by a horny ghost, youâre already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt.Â
Youâre at his house an hour later.Â
You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you.Â
You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.
And fuck, itâs the love, too. It never went away.
#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#wolverine smut#james logan howlett x reader#xmen x reader#logan howlett x f!reader#logan x reader#logan x f!reader#logan x fem!reader#logan howlett smut#worst logan#worst wolverine
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Okay, Iâm so gonna get hate for this. And it will probably get about 4 notes. This is, by far, the most opinionated thing I have ever posted on here. If you canât tolerate criticism towards Rick Riordan, the books, or the TV show, please keep scrolling. My goal is NOT to change your mind or start arguments.
I also want to preface this by saying that I love and respect Rick Riordan (even if I disagree with him on things and donât like some of his choices) and fully acknowledge that he has the right to do whatever the hell he pleases with his own series. I also want to say that I love Annabeth Chase (both the book and tv show version) with my entire being and you will never find me being an Annabeth hater. Sheâs my girl.
We good? Okay cool. So hereâs the thing: Iâve seen a lot of people on here saying things like âIf you didnât like the books, you just donât know how to have fun,â and âThe new book haters are just mad that they arenât the target audience anymore,â and (my personal favorite) âNothing in the books has changed, only the readers have.â
And while I see your points, and I respect you, allow me to show you something. Because of the 10 picture limit, I am only going to focus on one specific change: Annabethâs view of Percy.
WOTTG: Annabeth is surprised to be comforted by Percy
Past Books: Percy is constantly comforting Annabeth
WOTTG: Annabeth is shocked when Percy is smart
Past Books: Annabeth often points out that Percy is intelligent
WOTTG: Annabeth thinks Percy canât do anything on his own, and Rick communicates that Annabeth is always saving his ass
Past Books: Percy is ALWAYS watching her back, and saving her ass just as much (and Annabeth admits that)
I could put a hundred quotes in here. I could go on and on and on. But I canât, and I wonât.
My problem with this new book is NOT that it is more goofy than serious. My problem is NOT that little things have changed. My problem is NOT that itâs just for fun. My problem is NOT that itâs much more childish. (And by the way, Iâve read PJO and HOO as an adult, so itâs not like I was a child when I read everything else and am now an adult reading the new ones.) I really did like and enjoy many parts of this book.
My problem is that the characters (especially Annabeth) have flat out changedâin bad waysâand we have no choice but to accept it as canon. My problem is that Rick, while trying to merge his books with his new TV show project, is changing the entire personalities and past behaviors/ tendencies of the characters.
I loved Chalice of the Gods. You know why? It was fun, goofy, and showed the characters that we know and love being happy and adorable. I strongly dislike Wrath of the Triple Godess because the charactersâno matter how adorable and happy they might beâare no longer the ones we know and love.
My problem is that Rick Riordan fully admitted that he no longer considers the old book characters when he writes the new books. He is now purposefully incorporating his own personal mixture of the book characters and tv characters and writing those versions instead. Because of his desire to change and transform the series, I doubt heâs even read the original PJO or HOO books in years, which is why everything is so inconsistent. The old book charactersâthe ones who made the series what it wasâare gone. And that is not my opinion. Rick fully admits that he doesnât imagine them when he writes anymore. Donât get me wrong, I LOVE the tv show actors. I adore Walker and Leah and Aryan with my whole heart, and I wouldnât trade them for anything. But the fact is: they will never be exactly like the book characters. Itâs impossible for actors to become the words on a page. Theyâre their own unique version! And likewise, you cannot turn actors into print. It doesnât work! And why would you try? The books versions were perfect as they were. And the disney kids need to make the characters their own. The two versions can exist side by side, equally as wonderful, and still be gloriously different. We should celebrate the uniqueness of both. But instead, Rick is attempting to merge them into one. And in my opinion, itâs just hurting them both. And Iâm gonna get real brave by saying this, but do you want my honest prediction? If he keeps doing what heâs doing now, the TV show is going to get cancelled and the books are going to turn into a joke. I so, so badly hope that this doesnât happen! I have loved Rick and PJO for many, many years. I badly want both to thrive. But what is going on right now⌠it is not working, no matter how much we all want it to. And speaking as someone who knows people in the TV/Film industry, I am sadly not the only one who thinks the show is gonna flop. Which is devastating, because Rick Riordan deserves a redemption on the big screen, and the incredible actors deserve to bring this series to life in a new way.
I am not trying to force my opinions onto anybody. You are welcome to disagree with me and move on. I am not saying that Iâm right and youâre wrong. If you disagree, thatâs okay. If you agree but you donât have a problem with it, thatâs okay. In fact if other people have literally no issues, that makes me somewhat happy. And if you loved the book, Iâm honestly so stoked for you. Feel free to just keep on scrolling, my friend.
But me? Iâm sad. Iâm really, really freaking sad. And Iâm a little angry too, even if I donât have a right to be. I canât help it because Iâm only human. But this is how Iâand a lot of other peopleâfeel. And you know what? Thatâs okay too. Because the fact of the matter is:
Annabeth isnât the same Annabeth anymore. And Percy isnât the same Percy anymore. And itâs not because they went through trauma, or because time has passed. Itâs because Rick Riordan doesnât have any interest in writing those versions of them anymore. And I think the comparisons between the old and the new show that fact pretty clearly.
#okay iâm deleting tumblr now#iâm too scared for the hate so i will be absent lol#I PROMISE IM NOT TRYING TO DESTROY RICK I LOVE HIM#but i think he needs to be more loyal to the old fanbase that has been so loyal to him#or not thatâs fine too#i could give you guys more book quotes#i could make a whole other post on how percy has changed#but iâm not sure anyone wants that#so for now i will try and shut up#wottg#wrath of the triple goddess#and run very very quickly#pjo#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#annabeth chase#percabeth#percy jackson and the olympians#rick riordan#riordanverse
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đđđđđđđđ â PBâľ
๨ৠâ summary | request -> "STOP IM SO HAPPY UR MAKING PAIGE X WBB MEDIA MANAGER A SERIES BC I SENT IN THE FIRST REQUEST đ˝đ˝đ˝ fic with paige and reader being out and a little wasted and getting interviewed by fellow college student about their relationship and working together etc. (could end in smut if u like ;)) // inspo: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL9fH1p1/" (love you nonnie thank you for giving me the idea to make this series, ur the best mwahhhh hope you enjoyed)
â word count | 1k
â warnings | so much sexual tension its bad, paige being possessive (in a cutesy way!), interviewer being kinda weird/suggestive, mentions of drinking/getting high, some language, nothing else?
â taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!
â ev's notes | okay so this is kinda part of the manager series (if u guys want it to be) or if u have no idea what it is, thats fine!!!! i wanted to make it a standalone cus it felt better to me that way but whichever you'd like to read it, read it!! idk why that specific tiktok is my roman empire, it's just the way she talks and EVERYTHING makes me physically so like..... obsessed i don't even know, like GODDDDD im so attracted to her
YOUR FEET HAD begun to hurt an hour ago and your entire body felt sore, though you didn't feel very tired though.
You were two and half redbull vodkas in and let's just say you were tipsy; you weren't quite drunk yet but you were definitely on the way. As you stumbled slightly through the sidewalks of the UConn campus, your only guide was Paige's hand on your waist. The combination of the alcohol and Paige's presence made everything seem surreal, like you were walking through a really good dream.
You felt giddy, that was the only way you could describe it. You were drunk, sure but mostly off of Paige's lingering touch. You were excited by it, as if every brush of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through your body. The night air was crisp, but you hardly noticed as you leaned into her warmth, reveling in the sensation of her warmth.
Paige's laughter bubbled up beside you was infectious, pulling you deeper. You found yourself laughing along, not entirely sure what was so funny but not exactly caring either. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you in a bubble of tipsy euphoria.
You and Paige leaned against the railing, a cup in her hand as she gazed at you while you spoke about god-knows-what, she wasn't really sure anymore. She was zoned out until she felt a tap on her shoulder, to be met with a pair of new eyes.
Her face contorted into confusion as she sat up, glancing at you then back at the stranger. "Are you Paige and Y/N?"
"Yeah, what's up?" She replied quickly as she straightened up, a forced smile on her face.
He returned the smile gratefully, "I'm a big fan, uh... can we interview you two?" The guy spoke quickly as he glanced back at his friend, who was waving awkwardly.
Paige glanced back at you with a smile of her own as she waited for your approval. You nodded slowly as you glanced back at the guys as you surveyed the surroundings. "Just be chill, okay?"
He nodded as his friend pulled out his phone as he took out his phone and began using it as a microphone. He cleared his throat as he smiled, looking at his friend to start recording.
"Who are here with today?" He spoke as he brought it up to Paige's lips, then yours.
"Paige Bueckers,"
"And uh, Y/N L/N. By the way, she's not drinking alcohol," you added with a smile as Paige laughed.
Paige nodded and gestured to her drink. "I'm drinking a shirley temple, no alcohol."
"Yeah, we don't do that around here." The guy added with a laugh as the two of you glanced at each other, holding in your laughter.
Paige grinned, her tone amused as she played. "Y/N's here to keep in check though,"
"So you guys are actually close, like outside all the sports stuff?" He glanced in between you guys, noticing the close proximity between you.
You shared a knowing look with Paige. "Oh yeah, Paige and I are practically inseparable," you replied with a grin, your voice laced with fondness.
Paige nodded as she gazed at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "Yeah, Y/N's my girl, on and off the court."
You couldn't help but feel warm under her unwavering gaze as you laughed and averted your gaze back to the guy who was watching you two closely.
"As in like, best friend?" He clarified as he looked back at the camera with a laugh.
"What else?" Paige replied with amusement and slight agitation as she finally broke her gaze, a small laugh leaving her lips. "Obviously,"
"How is it like working together though, if you guys are really close? If I had to spend all that time with my best friend, not sure I would make it." The interviewer joked as he glanced back at the camera.
Paige furrowed her eyebrows as she laughed. "It's not bad at all, it's really fun. We hang out a lot, we get to go on trips together and share hotel rooms, it's a blessing."
She glanced back at you with a smile as you nodded slowly, feeling yourself draw closer to her. "Yeah, it is a blessing," that was all you could get out as you watched Paige wet her lips and laugh, turning away slightly.
You were pretty sure that the interviewer had caught on to the obvious tension but you didn't care at this point, you were lost in the moment, captivated by Paige. The interviewer's words seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn closer to her, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement.
"Why do you wear Paige's jersey rather than anyone else's?" He asked, his tone laced with amusement as he watched you zone back in.
Paige's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the guy, clearly getting annoyed by his stupid question. But before she could respond with a less polite answer, you did with a laugh. "I don't only wear her jersey, it was one time and it was because it was her first game back after her injury."
Paige's expression softened as she nodded in agreement, her irritation dissipating. "Yeah, it meant a lot to me to see her wearing my jersey that day."
The interviewer nodded before he glanced back at the camera before to you two again. "Okay, okay. Last question, do you think you could beat me in a 1v1?"
"Absolutely," Paige replied with a laugh as she grabbed your arm and pulled you away, beginning to walk off before the interviewer kept talking.
"Okay bet, whoever wins gets to take Y/N out," he called out, his tone playful as he flashed a smirk toward the camera.
Paige turned around to give him the nastiest glare of all time as she kept walking forward. "I already do that, bro."
You stifled a laugh at Paige's quick retort, her playful possessiveness bringing a warmth to your cheeks. The interviewer's eyes widened in surprise at Paige's response, clearly caught off guard by her boldness as he laughed, turning back to the camera.
You two just walked off as Paige's hand moved down back to your waist as you continued on your way. Despite the slightly heated exchange, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at Paige's possessiveness.
ââââ COMMENTS
cam đ | this has to be their hard launch or something cus DAMNđ ⥠792
âł user893492948493 | ngl i can't even deny it anymore and i was the biggest anti paige and y/n person OUT THERE
âł lily :p | "my girl" đŚđŚđŚđŚđŚđŚ
Jake | is it just me or does paige like girls? ⥠701
âł ella :) | ????? yeah????
âł Jake | this is news to me uhh
lovergirl <3 | okay what about sharin hotel rooms now... ⥠432
ZM | bro why would u say that đđđ in front of PAIGE BUECKERS đđ ⥠1.1k
âđźđĽđđťââď¸ | am i interrupting something... đ° ⥠994
cailey âď¸ | okay who is y/n whats her instagram where does she go who is she is she dating anyone wow shes beautiful ⥠2k
âł đŻđŻ | everyones collective reaction when they first see y/n
âł cailey âď¸ | going through a rabbit hole rn brb, she's so pretty what đ
âł #1 swiftie đ | cailey watch out girl ur on paige's watchlist now....
đ¤đ¤ | the damn tension in air damn im not even y/n and i feel hot ⥠118
Thomas W | they are both drunk as hell bro what is up with the laughing đ ⥠1.2k
user83948928932 | bro met y/n l/n and paige bueckers and continued to ask the worst questions of all time ⥠591
âł uconn luvr | and paige was good with the comebacks like okayyy baee protect ur girl!!
âł đĽ bow | they are not dating, can two girls just be friends anymore?
âł uconn luvr | she literally calls her "my girl" in like the first 2 seconds of the video
Isabelle Reece ⨠| paige was too quick w that reply to just be "best friends" with her đ ⥠903
âł ur fav aries | bro i know she was smooth with it too likeđđťââď¸
y/n's bitch đ | idk who i wanna be more y/n or paige ⥠252
âł mikey đ¤ | theyre both so hot
âł đ§ââď¸ | mike ima have sit you down for this...
âł taylor! | ohh... thats not...
Chris | shes cooking you respectfully ⥠1k
i đ uconn wbb | if this doesn't prove y/n and paige are together idk what will
⥠853
ââââ
part 2?? cus i lowk wanna write smut for this now... lmk
âł make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
âł thank you for reading all the way through, as always âĄ
#wcbb x reader#wcbb#ncaaw#uconn huskies#uconn#uconn wbb#uconn womenâs basketball#paige bueckers#paige buckets#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers x oc#paige bueckers headcannons#paige bueckers fic#ncaa womenâs basketball
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Saw someone describe Mithrun as a "Disabled right wing veteran who is convinced hes just as capable as he was in his prime" and also that he would "complain about immigrants" and I'm very confused.
Where did this type of interpretation for Mithrun came from? There's nothing about him that indicates he's "right wing" or any more racist than the average elf and due to his condition he literally isn't able to care about that.
The sentiment of "Mithrun is a racist grandpa" seems to have gone from an absurdist joke based on him saying a "slur" into a real interpretation of the character??
First of all he's 37 in tallman years he is not a grandpa, I know it was a joke based on him being rough and the fact he's an elf (185 years old) but I'm starting to think some people really think he's grandpa age? He isn't, he's about as old as Senshi and Chilchuck, Senshi is actually older than him being 47 in tallman years if he's a grandpa they are too, it's going from funny way to call him into ableist territory pretty fast.
Second he doesn't have the ability to be actively racist anymore, racism implies a sense of superiority compared to someone else from another race, which all the elves have. (althought he still benefits passively from this racism as an elf even if he doesn't actively feel it) Let's go thru his anime appearance and what happens.
Kabru shows up and tries to speak to the elves and convince them to try his way. The elves think the short lived people are all ignorant and treat them condescendingly, even Tansu because they live more than any other race
Then they go from "Short lived people are too stupid to know anything" into "Oh my god this poor baby come on have some cake :)" which is ALSO condescending, nobody is taking Kabru or the governor seriously because they're short lived. These elves are RACIST they're treating Kabru like he's a confused kid "come eat some cake and let the adults talk"
Mithrun is the only authority figure that wants to listen to Kabru
He is a shell of who he used to be, right now he ONLY cares about defeating the demon, if there is a chance this kid (who has had experience with dungeons before) knows another way to get him what he wants he will listen to it, cause he *doesn't* have the capability of being like the other elves.
This doesn't mean he's anti-racist, it means he literally doesn't care, he lets the other elves mistreat Kabru in every other scene unless it has something to do with defeating the dungeon, cause he *doesn't* care. He's not gonna complain about immigrants cause he doesn't care he's not gonna treat short lived people like kids cause he doesn't care, he cannot care, he lost the ability to care.
Past Mithrun was the one that was both racist classicist and a bitch, but that part of him is basically dead.
He said the slur because they asked him not because he thinks is appropriate, the other elves aren't 'casual racists' and him the 'real racist' they are all just as bad he just doesn't have the "desire to be socially acceptable" I guess, they asked, he answered and that was it.
If it would make it easier try to think about it in terms of real life bigotry and how people keep going "you can't even say (...) because of the woke" they aren't any less racist they just worry about being socially acceptable racists.
Anyway, please don't just repeat what other people say as jokes as if they're true especially when you're saying it about a disabled character. Acting like he's worse than his peers because he doesn't have the capability of being socially aware is ableism, calling him a grandpa because he has had a rough life that made him look disheveled is ableism, saying he's past his prime is also ableist considering he learned how to fight *after* he became disabled.
Correct me if anything I said was wrong but I really got peeved after reading several people misinterpreting Mithrun as some sort of bigoted old man who must be taken to a retirement home as if he just causes trouble for people who care for him.
#Mithrun#dunmeshi complaint#dunmeshi thoughts#ableism#dungeon meshi spoilers#edit: I adjusted the wording to convey what I wanted better#edit: edited the wording better again cause I realized I used a false cognate
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Earth 42!Miles x reader
Summary: Reader grows suspicious of Miles, and eventually puts all the clues together. Heâs the prowler. And sheâs avoiding him. Ignoring his texts, calls, anything else. So finally, he confronts her.
Warnings: None really? Cursing, some kissing here and there, pretty fluffy. Nothing too bad (though if I make a part two I canât say the same.) Not proofread at all- part.2 here
The text simply read, âReally Y/N?â
Her brows raised, confusion finding her expression at her boyfriends text. For the past few months Miles has been very suspicious. Leaving with his uncle to go gods knows where in this broken down city. âWhat is he talking about..?â She muttered to herself as she stared at the grey bubble. Her thumbs hovered over the screen as thoughts jumbled together in her mind. Did he know? Did he know that she found out?
She shut the phone off, setting it down on the balconyâs thin railing. Her eyes fell upon the dim city, the neon purple and green colliding together in a fierce blend of colors. She always reminisced about how the city was before crime took over. It was normal, you were able to walk the streets without being snatched or robbed. Maybe even killed depending how far into the city you go. A sigh aired from her lips, her head hanging down as she leaned against the railing. Her arms kept her propped up, allowing her to take a step back so that she had room to rest her head onto her forearms. âSo you just gonna leave me on seen mami?â She jolted, her head shooting up and taking a peek over her shoulder. Behind her on the fire escape was miles, his relaxed demeanor coming as no surprise. His bulky coat, jeans, and Nike airs drawing a small smile to her face.
âSorry Miles..got a bit distracted. Thinking.â She chuckled under her breath, attempting to break the ice. Miles approached, now leaning against the railing beside her with a hardly noticeable smirk. âSo, youâre just gonna pretend you donât know? Y/N.â His gaze hardened, his eyes now boring into the side of her head. This caused her to close her eyes, a sharp inhale coming from her. âThatâs all I can do, ainât it?â She paused, taking a moment before turning around, now propping her elbows onto the railing. She rested her back against the rusted metal, her shoulders relaxing as her eyes met his. âMiles, I know youâre doing what you think is right..Iâm not gonna tell you off or anything. I just- fuck I wish you just told me. You buy me all these things, and earn all this money, and I knew..I knew it wasnât from anything good. But you being the..â Her voice caught in her throat, her lips pursing together into a thin line as she struggled to speak the name. Miles took notice of this almost immediately. His smirk was gone, now flat teetering on the edge of a frown. His pretty hazel eyes raked up and down her figure before returning to her gaze. He held it, his stare unnerving. âBeing the what ma?â He inquired, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. This ticked her off, his attempt to bluff, or change the topic. Or whatever the hell he wanted to call it. She scoffed, her hands raised in defense as she stood from the comfort of the railing. âAre you being serious Miles? Youâre just gonna pretend like I donât know what im talking about? I saw the suit. And youâre always leaving with your uncle to wherever the hell yâall go. Fuck- if youâre just gonna sit here and glare at me then go somewhere.â
âY/N, chill.â He said. No, commanded, and Y/N did not like that. âThe fuck you mean chill? Miles, how are we gonna be in a relationship and youâre just gonna lie to me the entire time? Psh, you can have this back.â She reached behind her neck, pulling the necklace with their initials off and tossing it at him. He caught it almost instinctively, the silver necklace now resting in his palm. He sighed, his hand coming up to rest on his braids. âCmon mami, donât be like this. I was only trying to protect you. Donât you get that man?â He stepped closer, his hand coming to take a hold of hers. He laced his fingers with hers, his pretty eyes focusing in on her. âWhy would I tell you something that could get you killed? escĂşcheme mami.â He let go of her hand, now holding the necklace up and wrapping it around her neck. âI would never want to hurt you, you know this. I didnât want to tell you that for that reason.â He clipped the necklace together, the shiny metal now resting around her neck. âYou know I wouldnât want you to get hurt, right ma?â She blinked, her stomach swirling with that familiar feeling. Butterflies, this man always gave her butterflies. âRight..Iâm sorry I just..-â He cut in, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. âYouâre talking too much ma.â He says before placing a pleasant kiss onto her lips. Itâs gentle, patient, and forgiving. It almost has her knees buckling. Her arms wrap around his neck, his hand now finding sanction on her hips. Their lips lingered for a moment, the silence being broken by the honking and chattering of the crime ridden city. And while the city was a complete hell, Miles made everything so worth it. And it was the same for him. Her and his mother kept him going. Slowly they parted, though their noses were now nuzzling against one another as they rested in one anotherâs arms. âMâproud of you baby..you work so hard for us.â She muttered, which only drew a hum from him.
The two were so immersed in one another that they hadnât taken notice of Aaron standing at the bottom of the fire escape. His lips curved into a smirk as he watched the two coddle one another. âYo Miles, Cmon man. You can see your girl later. We got stuff to do.â He shouted up to them, drawing the two from their entanglement. Miles retreated from her arms, a small smile decorating his purple tinted face, the city lights making him look oh so good. âIâll see you later ma, Ight? And go check on my mom for me yeah? Thanks.â He said as he began to climb down the stairwell. âTe amo mami.â He shouted from the distance. âLove you too baby!â She shouted back gleefully while waving him and Aaron goodbye. And just as you thought he was about to leave, Miles popped back up, strolling over and placing his hand under her chin.
He grasped it lightly, his lips finding hers once more. Yet, this kiss was much more intense. He bit and nipped at her lips, all whilst he watched her face contort, melting into his kiss. The kiss lingered, as did his lips as he pulled away. His pretty hazel eyes took in her flushed out face, his lips curling into a smirk. âImma send you some money later mami, so you can get your nails done in that color I like. Kay?â He said before finally, he departed. He hopped back down and joined Aaron.
Y/N stood there, her face hot and her body even hotter as she pondered on his words. She knew exactly what he wanted. With one last sigh she retreated back into the open window behind her, her dimly lit bedroom greeting her. Tonight she would go to sleep with a clear conscience, no longer needing to worry about Miles and his secret escapades.
#x reader#Spider-Man#spider man across the spider verse#miles morales#miles morales prowler#prowler#earth 42#fluff#Miles morales x reader#earth 42 Miles morales x reader
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Part 2 to this.
Read Part 1 HERE.
Part 3 HERE.
Pairing: FWB!Rafe Cameron x FWB!Reader
TW: Angst!!! Pure angst! For Rafe at least >:) Violence! Toxic Relationships!
A/N: Yall know I wasnât going to let Rafe or Sofia win đ
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Rafe is fucking miserable. Honestly thatâs a fucking understatement for the influx of overlapping emotions he feels as he watches y/n from afar. Sofia was tucked under his arm yapping away about god knows what. Rafe having checked out since he saw y/n come into sight. All his thoughts consumed by her as the hole she left behind in his chest grew bigger. Here he was in despair and there she was having the time of her life.
Rafeâs attempts to reach out to her after the way he treated her completely ignored. She cut him out of her life completely, not even acknowledging his existence in the slightest. She quite literally ghosted him and left him behind. His desperate attempts at getting her attention and trying to get her to speak to him all failed. He attempted to blow up her phone with incessant calls and text that never went through because she immediately blocked him. He then tried to go to her house which was intercepted by her mom who gave him a nasty scowl and shoved a box of gifts he gave her, and items he left at her place from all the times he was over there into his chest. Their front door slammed in his face and leaving him shut out of a place he felt was his second home. He even tried to stop her at parties or bonfires, all his efforts going inauspicious because her other friends intercepted before he could even get to her. Shoving him away and giving him nasty glares before being told to âleave her alone, you bitch. Go back to your little girlfriend.â He doesnât think heâs ever felt so iced out before.
So here he stands at a bonfire on the cut, Sofiaâs words going in one ear and out the other as he desperately tried to catch y/nâs eyes. Desperate to see her pretty gaze on his once more, desperate for just an ounce of her attention. He almost wanted to whine like a petulant child who wasnât getting attention, it hurt him so fucking bad that she just completely shut him out. And fuck -he knows he deserves it. He fucking knows he does; he was so coked out of his mind that evening. His adrenaline pushing him to speak to her as if she meant nothing to him when she meant fucking everything.
Y/n was the only person to accept him in his entirety. She accepted all his flaws, his twisted personality. She didnât just accept it. She loved it. She would kiss his bloody knuckles every time he punched a hole in one of their walls. She would kiss the cuts and bruises on his face after a fight. She would lick his tears and kiss them away when he cried to her as he wrapped her tightly his arms, body pressed to his. She would back him up when people would call him a psychopath, shut them down with that bitchy attitude he had never been privy too. Until now. Heâd know she could be a real fucking cunt, but he didnât ever think heâd be on the receiving end of it. And now that he is, he feels like heâs spiraling.
After weeks of not being able to get in contact with her, heâd found solace in Sofia. Using her to numb the hole y/n left behind his chest. He struggled so fucking much to get used to the stark differences between them both. Sofia would scold him when he punched the wall, scold him when he fought, scold him when he went on one of his infamous rampages. Trying to push him to do better and be someone else. And he fucking hated it, so different from the way you treated him. You didnât try to âfix him,â the way she did. You just loved him for who he was and he fucked it all up. Even the sex was subpar, deciding to just take her from behind and shove her head into the mattress so he could imagine it was y/n. But he never could. Sex with y/n was like a drug. Completely euphoric; a spiritual experience he was addicted to having. And he felt like a fiend needing another hitt of his favorite drug which was herâŚy/n.
Y/n couldnât stop the pang of immense hurt she felt in her chest when she saw Rafe around the island with Sofia, the Kook prince and princessâs separation spreading around like wildfire. Sure everyone knew y/n and Rafe were best friends but they knew that it was so much more than what met the eye. The impalpable chemistry between the two; suffocating any room they were in with great tension. Everyone felt like they just went together. A Kook bitch and Kook asshole who only had soft spots for each other. Y/n was kinder than Rafe but she could go on a real rampage like he did. Her fiery attitude matching his own in every way. So for everyone to see Rafe with someone as fucking bland as Sofia, it was a big shock. Kook girls and boys and pogues alike taking to the fact that the finest girl on the island was now out of the clutches of Rafe Cameron. And they took full advantage.
So yeah, maybe it hurt y/n to see Rafe parading around with Sofia; but she threw herself into the attention granted to her by the other cute islanders and left him as an after thought that constantly nagged in the back of her brain. Here she was dancing and grinding on cute boys and girls as they flocked to her. Her beautiful body looking so damn enticing as she moved around seductively to the beat of the music. Skimpy outfit accentuating her perfectly and the body glitter she had on, glimmering with each turn. She looked like a beach goddess, truly the baddest on the island. People couldnât believe Rafe Cameron fumbled for a dud like Sofia, all modestly and blandness. The complete opposite of y/n.
Barry had been watching her all night, finally ready to make a move since Rafe wasnât in the way anymore. The only reason he never has was because thatâs his friend/business partnerâs girl or at least she was. Also more so because, not that he doesnât think sheâs worth it; but he really didnât want to face Rafeâs wrath. Him now knowing that sheâs out of his clutches has him feeling over-confident, heâs making a move and making it tonight. Rafe could be stupid but he wouldnât make the same mistake.
Y/n was wearing out, having danced off her buzz and needing more to keep her going and keep her distracted. She knew Rafe had been watching her all night, and she reveled in it. She loves it, she wants him to pine after her, grieve the loss of her companionship the way she grieved his. It boosted her pride from the amount of times heâs tried to reach out to her. He deserves to grovel for her attention and time. Sheâll never let him live it down. But fuck does she miss him being her plug, needing a line ASAP. So she goes to the one person she knows will hook her up with no charge just with a bat of her wispy lashes and a pout from her pretty lips. Immediately making her way to Barry, hips swaying with each step and making party-goers from tour-ons to Kooks and Pogues alike, both men and women ogling her stunning self. Barry included as he watched her walk toward him.
Barry was one of the many people whoâd been staring at her the whole night, his eyes running up and down her figure the whole time she was dancing. Barry wasnât dumb, from the moment he met y/n he knew she was gorgeous. He was more than willing to accept any attention she gave him, allowing only her to bitch him out of product with a bat of her pretty eyes. She got near him, her lips twisting into a coy smile as she gave him those fuck me eyes that would make any man want to ravage her whole.
âHi Barryyy,â she sighed out, coming up right in front of him and immediately sliding a manicured hand from his mid stomach, up to his chest. Letting him pull her in by the waist with one arm while the other held a red solo cup full of god knows what. Her arms immediately wrapping around his neck as she leaned her body into him. Plump tips pressed into his chest and nipples hard against him as she leaned her face close to his. Y/n always found Barry attractive, she didnât mind letting him run his hands all over her. âWhatchu want, beautiful? Hmm?â He drawled, looking down at her beautiful face as she leaned her head back to give him doe-eyes that made him want to take her right there in the sand in front of everyone. âNeed some more,â she whined lowly, brushing her lips against his and feeling his hand lower to her ass. Gripping a handful as she pressed into him more, biting her lip with a low moan as she allowed him to grope her. Her eyes fluttered as she moaned out an airy, âBaaarrryyyy.â Tightening her arms around him and brushing her lips against his cheek as she moaned into his ear the more he groped her.
Rafe was fuming, he wanted to fucking murder someone at this very moment. That someone being his fucking business partner who was grabbing all over his woman, but what hit him more is that she was allowing it. Liking it actually, her left leg coming up to wrap lightly around his as she let Barry press light kisses to her throat, hand still groping her ass as she leaned her head back. Rafeâs vision tunneled, his heart pounding in his chest his ears rang with rage. He felt his soul shattering, his heart shattering. He wanted to scream and cry and fall at her feet. Bury his face into her tummy that he loved so much and wrap his arms around her as he begged her to forgive him. The red solo cup in his hand crushing in his big palm as the contents of it spilled all over his hand. Not even giving a damn that his hand was all sticky or the gasp falling from Sofiaâs lips as he took his arm from around her and shoved her to the side harshly. Tossing his cup and storming through the sand with only murder on his mind. People taking notice and moving to the side knowing he was more than willing to knock them over for being in his way.
Eyes began falling onto the scene of Rafeâs reddened face tightened in anger as he got closer to y/n and Barry. The two in their own world as y/n began grinding her hips into Barryâs bugle pressed against her, his cup having been tossed to the side so he could hold her leg against his hip and grind into her. He loved the way she smelled, her creamy vanilla scent making him want to devour her whole. He was more than willing to take her back to his tonight and give her whatever she wanted. Knowing of her high sex drive from all the times she practically almost fucked Rafe in front of him when they all hung out, getting high together. Y/n kept her head tilted back and eyes closed, she loved the feeling of Barryâs calloused hand gripping her under her tiny skirt, skin to skin due to the little thong she was wearing. She was more than willing to hook up with him tonight and get her mind off Rafe, about ready to tell Barry to take her somewhere private until a familiar grip tugged on her upper arm. Rafe pulled y/n away from Barry harshly, tossing her behind him into the sand as she gasped in shock. Party goers immediately going to her aid and helping her back up as she stabilized herself.
Rafe socked Barry in the jaw, immediately pushing him to the ground and landing punch after punch as his knuckles cracked open and his blood slipped out, Barryâs mixing in as he smashed his face in. Rafeâs vision was red and the only thing that brought him back was the familiar voice screaming in his ear and familiar hands tugging at his arm. âStop! Stop! RAFE STOP!â Her voice faded in, the ringing in his ears subsiding as he took in his surroundings once again. The bonfire now quiet except for the blasting music, everyone circled around the commotion as Barry groaned under him. Rafe still straddling him until he stumbled up, allowing the tugging on his arm to guide him. He looked around at everyone screaming out a, âthe fuck are you looking at, huh?!â Glaring into the eyes cutting into him as people backed up. Another infamous rampage that would be the talk for weeks to come.
Rafe turned to the source of the tugging, taking in y/nâs pleading face as he grabbed her and manhandled her over his shoulder. Storming his way through the parting crowd, Sofia watching with teary eyes and an aching heart as he completed disregarded her. Y/n squirming around on his shoulder while she kicked her legs and pounded on his lower back. Screaming at him to let her down as he completely ignored her and headed straight for his truck.
He heard a voice that wasnât y/nâs angry yells calling his name. Ignoring it as he got near his trucks passenger seat and opened it quickly, tossing y/n in and slamming the door shut. Immediately locking the car and slamming on his window with a âdonât fucking move!â Trudging to the drivers side and about ready to get in when a grip on his arm tugged at him. He turned around with rage in his eyes as he took in a crying Sofia; her voice cracking as she yelled at him with tears streaming fown her cheeks. âWhat is wrong with you?!â she cried, smacking at his chest as he stared at her emotionless.
Coldness in his eyes as he took the hands pounding into his chest and gripped them by her wrist. Huffing deeply from his nose as he caught her eyes with his, his wide open and crazed as he told her one thing, âyou were nothing. Nothing but an easy fuck. Youâre fucking pathetic, youâre fucking easy, and youâre a lousy lay. Keep your boring ass away from me, alright?! Weâre done. Go bother some other sucker.â He said with complete harshness in his voice, his words cutting into her as he took his grip on her wrist to push her away from him. Her body stumbling and landing into the sand as she sobbed harder. Her entire soul shattered and heart stomped on. He didnât give a single fuck, his mind consumed with one person who was staring straight through his window with rage in her eyes. Not daring to leave cause y/n knows he would chase after her and tackle her into the sand. He got in his seat and immediately drove away, away from all the chaos he caused because heâs an insolent, impulsive child who doesnât know how to express himself correctly.
âYou think thatâs funny? Huh?!â He pressed y/n, turning to look at her with those crazed eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest, bringing one out to check her manicure as she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Already knowing how to handle the monster Rafe was when he was full of anger. He drove fast and recklessly, his gaze continuously whipping between her and the road as she refused to speak to him. Staring out the window as she ignored the tension that was almost suffocating in the car. Rafe reached his hand over and gripped her chin to make her face him, looking back at the road as she struggled with getting the painful grip of his hand off her face. âWhen I ask you a question, you fucking answer me!â He squeezed her face harder, making her cry out as she began clawing at his arms with her nails; angry red streaks tainting his skin as he sped up.
âFuck you!â She spit out, bringing her hands to smack at his face as they struggled with each other. Rafe eventually pulling away to grip both hands on the wheel and pulling the car quickly into his lane when it veered over into the other one. Almost hitting another car that was honking harshly at him. âIâll kill both of us right the fuck now! You think I wonât?! Iâll fucking take you down with me, baby!â He screamed at her as she kept smacking at him. Biting his hand when he tried to grip her face again and digging her teeth in. Making him hiss and pull it away quickly, drops of blood leaking out from how deep she bit into him. âDo it then you fucking pussy! Youâre so fucking pathetic!â she screamed at him.
Fortunately, Rafe pulled into Tannyhillâs driveway and brought the car to a screeching halt. Quickly putting the car in park; hopping out and storming to the passenger side as he tugged it open and dragged her out of the car by her arm. Slamming the door and manhandling her all the way to the front door of his house, till he opened it and pushed her forward. Watching her stumble in and almost fall to her knees but quickly catching her balance and turning around to face him. The same crazed look in her eyes as he brought out her monster that matched his to play.
Y/n rushed at him and tried to knock him in his jaw, Rafeâs reflexes quick as he grabbed her wrist and tugged her into him with it. Other hand wrapping around her throat and squeezing harshly as he cut off her air supply, her feistiness subsiding as her face turned red and her free hand began clawing at his wrist to make him release her. He finally did and she stumbled back gasping harshly for air as she caught her breath. Her spotty vision going back to normal as she looked at him. The two breathing harshly, chest quickly rising up and down as they sized each other up. She walked to him quickly, her cute sandal-heels clacking as she brought her hand up and back-handed him so hard his bottom lip split open from the diamond ring on her finger.
When Rafe turned his head to look at her again, she back handed him again. Watching him as he let out a pained groan and brought his hand to his pounding cheek. Feeling the cut she left on his lip and cheek; dabbing the blood dripping out with the tip of his middle finger as he looked at her. Her eyes daring him to test her again as his monster submitted to hers, the two staring at each other as his eyes began water, tears dripping down his cheeks as a pained sob left his mouth. Falling to his knees as he crawled to her and grabbed her by her lower back, tugging her to him as he buried his face into her bare stomach. His heavy tears wetting her smooth skin as he sobbed all his frustrations and heartache out.
âMâsorry! Iâm so fucking sorry!â He cried out, his voice full of emotion as he sobbed into her. Apologizing for everything. For making her feel used, making her feel like she was nothing to him when she was everything. Sorry for all the hurt he caused her, both mental and physical; he knew he wasnât good for her. Heâd always known and he was proving himself right. Sobbing into her harder as his hands splayed flat against her lower back to push his face deeper into her stomach, âplease y/n! Please!â He looked up at her then, on his knees with a red face as tears continued to run down his cheeks, snot dripping from his nose. Completely hysterical as she clenched both her fist by her side, starting at him down her nose with no emotion in her eyes. Cold and the complete ice queen he knows she can be.
âI can-I canât fucking taking it anymore! Itâs driving me insane! Youâre driving me insane! Iâm fucking sorry! I never meant to hurt you y/n, please believe me! I-I was so fucked up that day and Sofia wanted me so bad! It made me feel good! Good to have her falling at my feet! But she isnât you baby, please!â He choked out, baring his soul through his mouth and pleading eyes as she continued staring down at him with no emotion. He wrapped his arms completely around her, chin resting on her stomach as he cried up to her.
âYouâre everything! Everything to me! From the moment I met you, I knew it! I-I didnât know how to handle all the emotion you make me feel, you make my head go haywire! Itâs overwhelming an-and fuck! I didnât know how to handle it, youâre so much better than me! Youâre too good for me! You know it, I know it! The whole fucking island knows it! And Sofia was easy! She fell at my feet and made me feel like a fucking god! But baby, you! You make me feel like I belong, like iâm not alone an-and you love me for who I am! You always have and I always knew it! Because I love you the same way baby, love you so much mama! Youâre everything to me, y/n! Everything! I love you! I love you! And you love me!â He finished, tears still pouring out of his eyes as her hands unclenched. Rafe was ready for her to caress him, tell him it was going to be all okay in her usual coo and tell him that they were okay. That she loved him just the same and that they could move on and start over. But what he expected to be an affectionate caress was actually a harsh shove.
Y/n pushed at his shoulders, pushing his face away from her stomach as she began clawing at his arms around her. âGet off,â she said coldly; continuing to push him away as he tightened his grip and shook his head side to side. A fresh batch of tears pouring down his cheeks. âRafe get the fuck off of me!â She screamed, shoving him for the last time as he let go. His arms feeling to his sides with defeat as he stared at her with red eyes. Watching y/n as she stepped back and let out a sarcastic laugh. Shaking her head with a scoff at the end and crossing her arms over her chest.
âYou are so fucking pathetic.â She bit out, voice harsh. Not one ounce of the affection she use to regard him with left in her voice. Rafe whimpering at that, opening his mouth to continue groveling until she spoke up again and raised a hand to signal him to be quiet. âDonât. You had your chance to speak, now listen to me.â Rafeâs mouth immediately shutting closed into a tight line as he submitted and listened to her intently. Eyes pleading, as her hand lowered and she stared him down.
âSo what? You treated me like shit because I didnât what? Fall at your feet like that pathetic little pogue, bitch!â She shouted at him, her crazed eyes cutting into him. âAwww poor baby,â she mocked, âdoesnât know how to be a man and express himself so he acts like the little bitch he is! Youâre so fucking sad, you know that? I loved you Rafe. So much! I gave you me in my entirety! I gave you all of me! Not just my heart, body, and soul but my mind! I let you know the darkest parts of me! Things no one else knows! And you did what? Tossed me to the side because some boring bitch gave you a bit of attention? Because she kissed the ground you walked on like the pathetic low life she is!â She spoke firmly, her face in a scowl of disgust as she stared him down like he was nothing.
âYouâre just as fucking stupid as her! Youâre both pathetic. I want nothing, and listen to me closely.â She walked to him, gripping his face in her hand and digging her nails into him. His lips squished as he stared up at her pathetically. âI want nothing to do with you. Youâre nothing to me anymore, nothing. Youâre just a pathetic coke head with daddy issues and mommy issues who never grew up. You donât know how express yourself at your grown age and act like a man. Grow the fuck up Rafe! Youâre a little boy, a stupid little boy. I was so blinded by my love for you that I didnât realize how much of a bitch you really are. This is the first and last time Iâm gonna say this. Leave. me. the fuck. alone.â She snarled at him, teeth bared at him like a lioness ready to attack her prey.
âIâm the best thing to happen to you baby, and you threw it all away for some bottom barrel pussy and easy attention. Iâll be fine, Iâll prosper. I can have anyone I want and do whatever the hell I set my mind too. I donât need you. I never have and never will. I let you in because I wanted too, not because I needed too. The only difference between us is that I only wanted you but you need me. You need me. You always have and always will. But Iâm done with you. For good. Go back to your sloppy little bitch and stay the fuck out of my life. You two low lives deserve each other. Iâll find the man who can stand by me without being so fucking intimated.â She spit out harshly, releasing the grip on his face as she walked back away from him slowly, giving him one last glare as she turned on her heels and headed for the front door. Ready to walk out of his life and leave him in the dirt.
Rafe shuffled forward on his knees as he pleaded with her, spitting out one last, âplease y/n! Please baby! Youâre right, youâre so fucking right! I need you baby please donât leave me! Iâll do anything!â He sobbed out once more, watching as her hand stopped on the handle of the door as she pondered his words and turned back to him. Rafe feeling a lightening in his chest as hope grew. Ready for her to take him back, light building in his eyes. Until it all came shattering back down when she let out a mocking laugh. Eyes cutting into him with that condescending look that made anyone in her line of sight feel so little. Him included.
âHad I known me fucking you would get you so attached, I would have never done it. Now clean yourself up, youâre killing my fucking mood more than you already have.â Throwing his words back at him as she turned back around and opened the door. Slamming it behind it and walking out into the cool air of the night. Leaving Rafe behind, for good. Him shattered to nothing while she found a renewed sense of life. Her chest lightening as she felt a weight lift off her shoulders.
Sheâd be okay. Better than okay, sheâd be great. She was a strong woman and no pathetic man was gonna break her down and make her into nothing. She would prosper and give herself a better life. Already making plans to leave the island, leave this place full of tainted memories behind and find a place to make new ones. She would start over and create her own happiness. Her confidence bursting back into her as she walked down the driveway with a renewed sense of pride. Hope for better running through her. And as for Rafe ⌠his soul died. His spirit broken, heart shattering to a million pieces in such a way that could never be properly put back together. Pieces of it missing forever, the biggest piece of it walking out of his life. And y/n only thought one thing. Fuck Rafe Cameron.
taglist: @drewstarkeys-world @maybankslover
A/N: PHEW! That was intense! Iâm sorry if yall wanted them to reconcile but nuh uh! Let that boy grovel in his misery! I hope you all enjoyed! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! It would be deeply appreciated it! Much love đ°đ¸đ
#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron angst#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey angst#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe angst
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You Think I'm Delicious?
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
âi donât like your new perfume.â
genre: fluff & crack
word count: 1.9k
author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one!
THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HEâS A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about somethingâmaking him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through booksâand even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.
So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain heâd love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure heâd go crazy over your smell. Heâd tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7.Â
However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
âI donât like your new perfume.â
Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previouslyâplaying chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didnât love your boyfriend and didnât have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; youâll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.
âExcuse me?â
Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, âWhatâs up?â This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.
âWhat do you mean you donât like my new perfume?â
Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, youâre curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.
He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasnât the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.
God, heâs so precious, youâd keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isnât your favorite person, and youâd love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.
âSpencer,â you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, âOut with it.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre flushed pink. Youâre picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.â You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. âBaby, for a profiler, youâre not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me whatâs going on.â
He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you werenât a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you werenât backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.
You could hear the ticking of the wall clockâif you focused hard enoughâwith the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to caveânot even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. Itâs kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least youâd be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom heâs pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinkyânot really, youâre just dramatic like that.
âWell, for starters, I think itâs strong like Iâm drowning in it,â Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didnât have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was strongerâheâs hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.
âAre you sure thatâs it? You didnât have that problem with my previous perfume, which Iâm pretty sure is much stronger than this one.â You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. âGarcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.â
At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldnât help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer.Â
âTell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.â You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like heâd rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. âAnd you know, Iâm a great profiler. I always get what I want.â
However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencerâs eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.
Oh. Thatâs the problem.
âBaby, I think I know what the problem is here.â
Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by youâwhich wasnât your plan at all, by the wayâand was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.
Although you were better at that angle, you still werenât able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because youâre sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.
You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.
âYou know, itâs not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.â Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, âI just liked it better when you smelled like me.â
Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you couldâve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.
No, you wanted Spencer.Â
You wanted to be with Spencer.
So, you were shocked at your boyfriendâs display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasnât every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencerâs face towards yours.
âGod, youâre so adorable, Dr. Reid,â you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, âI could eat your face!â
âWe donât want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.â
You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain.Â
âStop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what Iâm talking about!â
âI donât.â Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. âActually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think Iâm delicious?â
You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.
âYouâre an idiot.â
âNo, Iâm not!â Spencer protested and explained some more, âSeeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partnerâs natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.â
Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.
âAha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!â
âYou know what, Spence?â You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. Heâll never know what hit him. âI love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.â
By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.
âShut up!â
âI love you too, Spence.â
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More Virgin Bucky
Pairing: Virgin!BuckyÂ
Summary: Bucky jerks off to the memory of your movie night
Word Count: ~900
Warnings: male masturbation, mention of past blowjob, Bucky is a horny boy, reader is not in this one but he thinks about them
A/N: The part two that a lot of yall wanted. Am I a tease? Yes. Bucky does not lose his v-card in this one. BUT I will write a part three I promise. I want to corrupt this man so bad. Also, I wrote this in like an hour sooo. Part of the Virgin!Bucky series but can be read alone
One week. Actually eight days and five hours, but Bucky is the only one counting. Thatâs how long it's been since you sucked the sense out of your boyfriend. It has taken every ounce of control Bucky has to not ask you to do it again. Itâs all he thinks about ever since that night.
He would be embarrassed if you knew, but in all fairness, you did this to him. You effectively made him malfunction. Bucky has been fucking his fist practally every night, replaying the best moment of his life. How your mouth wrapped around him perfectly, the slight gagging sounds, and donât even get him started on how you looked up at him.Â
And when you told him to cum in your mouth? Fuck! His cock pulses at the memory. Bucky is a greedy man - he wants more. He wants you to suck his cock again, maybe youâll suck on his ball this time, get them all wet and slobbery, make him cum without even touching his cock.Â
For the past few days of his incessant horniness, heâs been thinking about something else, too. It always starts out with you, his throbbing cock in your mouth, but there is a shift, you on the bed with his head between your legs. He never gets very far into this fantasy before he cums all over his hand and chest. Something about eating you out has him cumming in seconds.
But Bucky canât bring himself to ask for what he wants. Heâs too embarrassed; no one in the 40âs ever talked about eating their girlâs pussy. He wasnât completely ignorant to the fact that womenâs pleasure wasnât important to men back then, but Bucky didnât know if what he wanted was normal, and he sure as hell wasnât going to ask.
As he lies in bed, once again Bucky feels his cock harden in his pants. Luckily for his pride, heâs alone in bed, and nothing is stopping his flesh hand from inching toward his crotch. His balls are so heavy and full even though he jerked himself off twice the night before, cumming so much he had to change the sheets.Â
Grabbing his erection, Bucky hissed in pleasure. No matter how many times heâs touched himself this past week, he is still a sensitive baby when it comes to his cock. âFuck, doll, touch my cock, just like that.â Bucky lets his mind wander to his go to fantasy. He imagines you between his legs, that the hand rubbing his dick is your soft palms and not his callused one.
His hips jerk off the bed, chasing friction of his hand through his boxers. âGo ahead, doll, take it out.â When you arenât there, Bucky is in charge, making himself feel good, directing you in his fantasy. But canât help himself but let you take charge when heâs with you. He just gets so nervous, not wanting to let you down and never experiencing pleasure so intense.Â
Heâs trying to take this slow, drawing his pleasure out, but, hell, you make him so damn horny that he just canât help but push his boxers down to his thighs, past his heavy balls, and ignores the wet spot on his underwear from his weeping head.
Using his precum, Bucky wraps his hand around his head and slowly pulls his hand down to his base. âOh, God! Just like that!â He has to squeeze his base to stop himself from cumming at the first stroke of this hand.
Scrambling, he pushes his boxers down to his ankles and spreads his legs, âdoll, touch my balls, get them nice and wet.â His metal hand cups his ever growing sack, âshit, yeah that feels fucking great! You feel how heavy they are? All that cum is going down your throat tonight. You hear me, doll?âÂ
With his metal hand still on his balls, he uses his flesh hand on his cock, imagining your lips instead, you slobbering over his cock, not his precum lubing it. âSo good with your mouth, you know that? Youâre such a fucking slut.â His thumb traces over the thick vein right under the head of this cock and has Bucky calling you a slut, something he didnât even know heâd be into, but once that image was in his head he had to take his hand off his cock; he didnât want to cum just yet. Not when he just started.
Taking deep breaths, Bucky tries to calm himself down, but imaginary you climbs up his body and Bucky knows this is the end. âSit on my face, doll, and let me eat your pussy.â He closes his eyes for this part, because Bucky has never seen your pussy before, he wonders if you are sporting a bush like the women in his old porn mags did, or if you shave, or wax, Bucky doesnât give a shit.Â
Heâs never tasted a cunt before, and has nothing to base it on, but the thought of your entire weight on his face, smothering him with your pussy, makes the most pornographic moan leave his mouth and cum shoots out of his tip without him touching it.
He cums for what feels like minutes before he finally stops and he lays back against his pillow, not having the energy to clean himself off before he falls asleep. He needs to taste your pussy and soon.Â
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#sebastian stan x reader
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Huloo, just read Yandere cheater and it was hook line sinker for me, do you still do request? If so can you do a Yan! cheater but the reader is like one of those cold stone face to others but warm to their friends and family but especially soft towards someone they really like? (In this case the cheater). Im curious about your take đ. Scenario would basically be the same same I guess, like Yan! Cheater jumped to conclusion and, being an idiot, decide revenge cheat is the solulu to his delulu thoughts.
(If your requests are closed, please ignore this, Id be embarrassed)
I would have finished this way earlier today, slowly back to posting I hope yall are proud of me Warning: non con touching * blood * mentions of rotting meat and killing people * yandere themes ofc
yan cheater x gn reader
âSMILE FOR ME ALRIGHT?â
âI like when you smile, you look really cute when you doâ âHaha arenât you a charmer?â âListen, I am serious! Your smile is special, not many can see it bunny.â âI love youâ âI love you too.â Your face doesnât reflect on how you are feeling, unless it is someone that you actually care about. It is only natural that people canât tell what you are feeling, and that comes with its pros and cons.
People wonât know if they hurt you. Ciaran was pretty, but underneath all of that hid a disgusting freak. Too bad you have learned that when you saw the man you love kiss someone else. You remember he kissed you with such passion not even a few hours later. You hate to admit, he looks pretty even now. Standing at your doorstep, red hair clinging to his face. Make up slightly smeared because of the water. Ciaran looked beautiful, even if messy and wet. It made your blood boil. You wanted to rip his hair out, punch him and then curl into a ball and cry your eyes out. Instead you kept leaning against the door frame, the scent of rain calming you down. You didnât say anything to him, and he didnât to you. He knew that you found out, and you knew his only regret right now was that he didnât hide well enough.
The more you look at him, the more sick you feel. You waited for him to come back though, so you could spit on his face and throw him out of your apartment. You didnât even bother with a suitcase, a trash bag fitted his personality more. âI have nothing to say to you Ciaran, take your shit and get lost.â Your voice was cold, monotonous but it made him shudder. You threw the bag into the closest puddle and finally slammed the door in his fucking face. There was something about you, Ciaran couldnât put his finger on it. He doesnât know why you are so attractive to him. Your eyes are cold, dead just like your expression that you wear. Itâs like making eye contact with a corpse. Despite your very dead expression, you are quite attractive. Beautiful. It made his heart flutter, so it was only natural that he tried to get close to you. With time he got to see more of you, your little traits. Likes and dislikes. What you listen to, and what you eat.
The best part was when your stoic expression was replaced with a smile. He lived for those moments, but then it got boring. Can you even blame him? It all felt lukewarm. He needed that excitement back, and you couldnât give him that. That is, he thought you couldnât. But he was wrong. Ciaran wouldnât admit it of course, it would hurt his pride. He was too proud, and you were just difficult and used.
He couldnât admit that after just a week his body ached for your touch, scent. He wanted to see you smile again, hear you speak, touch you.
Every single time he tried to crawl back to you, you welcomed him with an ice cold stare and blank face. After God knows how many times he appeared in front of your house, you didnât even bother opening the door and soon enough you moved away.
How could you? Leaving him wailing in the dirt in front of the place both of you called home. You are so cruel, didnât you say people deserve a second chance?
Maybe he just needed to try harder.
The house breathed with you, calm and unbothered. The air felt heavy still and moist, in other words it stank in here quite badly. Slightly rotten food with the mix of your sweat made you gag. You laid still in your bed, eyes tired, achy and dry from the lack of sleep. You feel like you are going to suffocate in here. You listen to the melody of the forest surrounding your house, the gentle sway of the trees and cicadas. Itâs dark, why were you up again? Your eyes start to wander around the room trying to adjust to the soft light of the moon. Itâs dark, you see your furniture and that pile of clothes that looks a lot like a human now that you stare at it.
You turn on the light, it blinds you and you close your eyes and hiss in pain. When you open them again you see the same pile of dirty clothes. It looks normal, like a pile of unwashed clothes would. You thought it was.. nevermind, brain tends to imagine weird shapes when you canât see shit. Thatâs what it was, you sigh as you get up. The air feels stuffy.
 If it wasnât for the crippling anxiety you would open the window, you canât see outside but it can see you. That makes you worry.
You dragged your heavy feet to the kitchen to grab something to eat even though there is not much you can choose from. You need to go shopping. Your stomach recoils at that thought. Ciaran just waits for you to leave. He is probably not very happy that you have ignored him as much as you did. His gifts lay unopened at your front door, slowly piling up. The sweet scent of rotting meat emitting from them. Just thinking about it makes you weak in the stomach. The kitchen is dark, after the bedroom incident you didnât bother even turning on the light. Your poor eyes. Your shaky hands search for the least dirty cup so you can at least drink some water.
After your break up, Ciaran hasnât left you alone. Blocking him didnât help, the police didnât help. He made sure you were alone, with no one to help you. Your ex successfully tracked you every single time, that's why you are stuck at home. Looking and smelling like shit. It has been a week without him trying to contact you but you arenât sure he finally moved on. You will sneak out of the house, leave everything and just escape this madness. You will be free. There is a warm breath on your neck.
The glass shattered against the wooden floor. âDid you miss me?â he rasped out. He smelled like forest. His voice goes through your ears, making them ring. You didnât respond, praying that your brain is imagining things. It surely is, he imagines how he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his hands slowly wander around your body.
You feel weak in your knees, hands gripping the sink in an attempt to get some stability. Ciarans cold hands painfully dig into your stomach. You feel like you are going to puke.
Then everything stops. You turn around and you are greeted with the sight of your kitchen. No Ciaran.
You raise your shirt, no marks.
You were going crazy or the lack of sleep is really getting into you. Forget the water or food, you are going to sleep. Ciaran is not here, you are safe and you need sleep. Badly. The floorboards creak against your weight, the trip to your room. Itâs like being like a kid again, and you feel like someone is chasing you so you run up to your room to turn the light on and scare the evil away. The thought of it makes you chuckle. Something feels wrong though, you look at your front door. Itâs open.
Fuck the sneaking, you are ready to run to your room when someone grabs you. Their hands are sticky, warm. The metallic and sweet rotting smell fills the room. âBunny, bunny calm down. Itâs okay, I am here finally.â âCiaran, Ciaran pleaseâŚâ you choke out as he squeezes your frail body. âAhh how I missed that voice of yours.â he moaned into your ear and hugged you tighter. You want to cry, you want to throw up but you canât give him the satisfaction of that. You can show him any basic human emotion, thatâs what he wants.
 He kissed your neck, nipping at some places. Like he used to, when you two were together.
âYou missed me too, right bunny? you missed my voice?â âCiaran leave my house.â âBut baby why? We are finally together again.â He let go of you. Your body ached, head pounding and all of your senses screaming to run.
âArenât you happy? Please bunny, smile for me like you used to.â His hands grabbed your face, fingers jamming into your mouth forcing it to open. It hurts, you can taste the blood coating his hands. He forces you to smile and you stop yourself from actually throwing up. Your thoughts are muddy, body weak. You claw at his hands but he grips you together. Nails digging into your gums, you gag. Ciaran beams at you, happy. Smiling widely, just like he used to.
âNow, was that so hard?â he hums.
You try to protest, but you are unable to speak. You are so tired, so weak. He took notice of that. Kissing your forehead.
âOh my poor baby, you are exhausted waiting for me right? Donât worry, I will help you.â
The last thing you remember is pain, the amazement on how strong his head is and a small thought that no matter how far you run. Your loving ex will find you.
#tw yandere#yandere#oc yandere#yandere oc#yandere x darling#oc tag#yandere blog#gn reader#oc#yandere x reader#yandere writing#yandere cheater#yandere cheater x reader#yandere cheater oc#male yandere#male yandere oc#male oc#reader#gender neutral reader#x reader
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it's your turn for choosing
this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!
getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts
joel miller x reader
summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k
a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.
___
7:32 am. Itâs helpful in this line of work to know exactly when youâre fucked.Â
The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work â banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing â all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed.Â
Youâve only been open for two hours.Â
Here for three, awake for four. God, youâre tired.
Anyway â youâre fucked. And thereâs nothing you can do about it.Â
You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.
The Zone â a stupid name, but you canât be bothered to change the sign that came with the place â is a coffee shop that sits between towns.Â
Your coffee shop.Â
It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.
The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. Itâs not a fancy chain, itâs not a drive-thru. Youâve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it.Â
You even love it, some days.
And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and youâve spilled coffee all over your apron twice â it works.Â
You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.
âFuck you, you piece of junk,â you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure.Â
Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand.Â
Youâve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesnât phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.
âMorning,â you say, summoning your smile. âHold on a sec, let me just ââ
You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.
The manâs gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him.Â
Heâs tall and broad â if you had to guess, youâd say he works on one of the farms around here. Heâs tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasnât wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.
The guy looks tired.Â
Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. Heâs got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping theyâre from laughter.Â
âNo espresso,â he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but youâre sure you havenât seen him before. Youâd remember.Â
âHope that doesn't scare you off,â you say. âStill got everything else.â
âEverything else beingâŚâ He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.
DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint.Â
âThree options.â
Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. Youâll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if theyâre nice about it you wonât charge too much extra.
âCan I get you one of those three options?â
Youâre not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.
âBlack coffee will do,â he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. âIf you have that.â
âThank you for taking pity on me,â you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. âYou just made my morning.â
He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.
âPretty shit morning if this is makinâ it,â he drawls.
You hand him the cup and your fingers brush.Â
âYou have no idea.â
He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. âI got some notion.â He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. âKeep the change,â he says.
You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.
Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldnât mind if he became a regular customer. __
You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks.Â
Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.
Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when itâs slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks youâre working on.Â
âBlack coffee, please,â someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize.Â
âCan I get a name for that?â Cat asks. Itâs busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.
âJoel,â he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.
âIâve got it,â you tell her. âCan you finish up those drinks?â
She shrugs and you swap places. You know youâre sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.
âHot coffee on a day like this?â you tease. He â Joel â is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question.Â
You laugh. Joel looks pleased.Â
âOperatinâ a full menu, I see,â he says, pulling out another $5. âGlad you got it fixed.â
âItâs still a piece of junk,â you shrug. âJust donât tell anyone I said that.â
He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.
âThank you,â he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.
âBye, Joel,â you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders.Â
The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos â your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require â and she eyes you.
âDude,â Cat says. âWhat the hell was that?â
If it wasnât already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot.Â
âWhat the hell was what?â
She canât reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.
âI didnât even know you knew how to flirt,â she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. âThat was pretty bad flirting if you ask me ââ
You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.
âI have no idea what youâre talking about,â you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.
You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.
âI mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,â she says, wrinkling her nose. âWay too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked ââ
âCan we get back to steaming milk, please?â you snap, more embarrassed than mad. âI am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.â
âIâm twenty!â she sputters. âWait, so you admit that you like him?â
âMilk.â
Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just donât see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. Itâs just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you â even if itâs just because you make them coffee.Â
Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe heâll become one of the regulars you know things about.
And if you have a crush on him?Â
No harm done. Heâs nice to look at.
And he tips well.
__
Joel stops by again.Â
And again.Â
And again.
He comes in every morning â sometimes at lunch â and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. Itâs never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron.Â
All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting.Â
Maybe heâs just being polite.
Also, he keeps overpaying.Â
One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesnât come in the morning. When you donât see him in line at lunch, either, youâre a little disappointed. The weather is perfect â not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining â and you want to see him in the sunlight.
The day crowd is long gone and youâre only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.
âI was getting worried,â you call as he walks over. Usually, heâs got some kind of dust or paint or something on them â Joel is a contractor, youâve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer â but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped.Â
âIâm honored,â he says.Â
You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window.Â
âIâm just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.â
He snorts and hands you his cash.Â
âI canât,â he says. âHad shitty home brew this morning.â
He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you donât hide your grin.
âWhatâs with the schedule change?â you ask.Â
He smirks. âMiss me?âÂ
You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy.Â
âJust curious,â you say. âDonât let it go to your head, but youâre my favorite customer.â
Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck.Â
âReckon thatâs the tip.â
âActually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any baristaâs heart.â
Joelâs eyebrows climb up his forehead.Â
âAh,â he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. ââCourse.â
âNah,â you say with a teasing smile. âIâd never be so shallow.â
Thereâs no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.
You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy.Â
âIâm, uh. Meetinâ one of my kids here,â Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise.Â
Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one.Â
âBoth of âem moved to the city recently. Ellie â sheâs cominâ up for the night.â
âIâll bet you miss them,â you offer. Youâre not sure why heâd want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but youâre not complaining.
Joel smiles at you. Itâs a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw.Â
âSure do,â he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. âBut itâs good for them. Sarah â sheâs a little older â is in school and Ellie is workinâ on her music and whatever else sheâs into these days.â The pride in his voice is clear.Â
âWell, Iâm honored you want to bring her here.â You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him.Â
Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone.Â
âThatâll be her,â he says drily. âHey, kiddo.â
Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.
She doesnât look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like sheâs ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.
You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.
âDude, you come here every day?â Ellie asks. âJoel, this is so far from ââ
Joel talks over her.
âDrive go okay? Sarah said theyâre doinâ shit on the 35 ââ
Ellie huffs.
âYeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city âcause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.â
âGood.â
You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place.Â
âHi,â you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. âYouâre Ellie, right? Iâve heard a lot about you.âÂ
Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joelâs mouth twitches but he says nothing. Itâs a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesnât mind and she believes it.
âReally?â She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. âYou gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.â
âSomeoneâs gotta warn âem,â he says.Â
She laughs. âHey, fuck you!â
âOnly good stuff,â you say. You like her. âJoel says youâre working on your music?â
Ellieâs eyes light up. âOh, yeah,â she says. âIâve got an audition next week.â She turns to Joel. âI brought my guitar âcause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.â
He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.
âI bet theyâre real good.â
Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. âYeah, well. You have to hear them first.â
You feel a little off-balance again, like youâre on the fringes of something you shouldnât be seeing. The love on Joelâs face is clear as day.Â
âDo you want some coffee?â you ask her.
Joel winces. Ellie gags.Â
âNo offense,â she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. âI know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but itâs not my thing.â She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. âI had a mocha the other day and didnât hate it. Do you make those?â
âLook at that,â Joel says. âYouâre convertinâ.â
âAm not,â Ellie says. âItâs got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.â
âYeah, give me a few minutes,â you laugh. âIâll put lots of chocolate in it.â
They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.
Itâs strange to see Joel like this â to build up on the man youâve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that heâs more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is.Â
It makes you want to know more.
You finish her drink and call Ellieâs name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.
âDonât you dare pay me, Joel,â you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. âReally. Iâm just honored you stopped by.â
She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.
âYeah,â she says. âMe too.â She grins at you with all of her teeth. âJoel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.â
She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.
âWait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive ââ
Joel clears his throat.
âWeâre off,â he says. âThank you, as always.â He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.
You suppose it is.
âYouâre welcome, as always.âÂ
Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joelâs as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles.Â
They both wave at you as they drive away.Â
__
Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, itâs hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.
You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what heâs like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.
You want him.
Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over â Jesse, heâs called â signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. Heâs been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. Heâs a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.
Itâs you who is distracted.Â
One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.
Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. Heâs frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb.Â
You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.
He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.
âHowdy,â he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.
âJoel ââ you say, but he interrupts you.
âMy brother called and said he needs breakfast,â Joel grumbles. âYâgot any of Tessâs bear claws?â
Right, they work together, you remember. Heâs mentioned Tommy in passing.Â
âI think so, just hold on a sec.â
âTake your time,â Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though thereâs a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work.Â
You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.
âYouâre in luck,â you say, putting it in a paper bag. âWell, Tommy is.â
âSavinâ my ass,â he tells you when you hand it to him. âThanks, sweetheart.â
The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesnât even seem to realize heâs said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.
He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.
âJesus, Tommy, I said Iâd ââ
You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.
âHow can I help you?â
A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.
âWas that Joel Miller?â Jesse asks. âBefore. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?â
You startle. âUm. It was. How do you ââ
âI didnât know he was a customer here,â Jesse says. âDoes he come in a lot?â
You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. âYeah, every day.â
âDamn,â he says. âHe must really like your coffee.â
âAre you trying to say itâs bad coffee, Jesse?â
He huffs a laugh. âNo, boss, âcourse not.â He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once heâs done, steady hands tamping down the results. âI just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.â
You narrow your eyes. âHow do you know him, Jesse?â
âHis daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,â he shrugs. âWent over to their house plenty of times in high school.â
âWell. Heâs a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.â
Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk.Â
âIâm not saying he doesnât,â he muses. âI am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.â
Itâs silly. Youâre half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, youâre pretty sure youâve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure itâs convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one.Â
But if heâs going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe itâs not just for the coffee.
âYour coffee is good,â Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like heâs trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.
âI think the ice needs a refill,â you say, snapping back into focus.Â
âHe might be here for something else, too -â
âGo refill the ice.â
He throws up his hands with a smirk. âIâm going!â
__
7:24 am. Youâre on your own again and youâre fucked.Â
The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didnât bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering.Â
Joelâs truck pulls up and â well. Youâre fucked. And heâs why.
Youâre fucked because you canât stop thinking about him. You canât stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.
A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you.Â
And you still barely know him. But you want to.Â
Maybe itâs the weather, maybe itâs the fact that youâre damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.
You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime?Â
Itâs a bit of a cowardâs way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. Heâd probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back.Â
Sweetheart.
Somehow you donât think heâll do any of those.
The rain lashes against the window so hard you donât open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.
Joel, it seems, is one.
You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.
âGimme a sec,â you tell him. Itâs so windy he leans in close to hear you. Heâs wearing a jacket thatâs ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back.Â
You quickly fill the cup youâve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesnât blow over.
âBrave of you,â you say. Heâs in the rain and youâre both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. Itâs a buzzing need at the front of your brain. âThought the weather would get you, too.â
âTold you,â he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. âShitty coffee at home.â
âDrive safe, Joel,â you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You wonât be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.
And wait.
And wait.
The rain stops.
Youâre still waiting, phone silent.
Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.
âDonât be stupid,â you mutter. âHeâs working.âÂ
You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables youâd set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though theyâre spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.
Youâre bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. Youâre focused, so much so that you donât pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.
A door slams but you donât turn around.
âSorry,â you call over your shoulder. âWe just closed.â
âShame,â he says.Â
You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. Heâs in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans donât look soaked. Youâre still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.
âOh,â you breathe. âHi, Joel.â
He smirks. âDonât think Iâve ever seen you outside of that window,â he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. âCan I help?â
Youâre very aware of your whole body all at once. Heâs looking at you, drinking you in like youâre his morning cup of coffee.
âUh, sure,â you say. You want to ask why heâs here but the words wonât come. âThey go in there, in the little closet on the right.â You point to the open door to the shack.
He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt heâs wearing shows his arms and you feel what heâs just said â itâs weird to be in the same space like this. Youâre outside but he feels so big.
Joelâs arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.
âWhat did you write on it?â he asks, casually.Â
The words donât totally register. âWhat?â
He doesnât answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.
âOn my cup. This morninâ.â He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you canât look away.
âOh â you, you didnât see?âÂ
He shakes his head. âWas raininâ, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.â
âRight.âÂ
You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.
But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your â for you.
Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication heâs followed you.
You turn around.
âI wrote my phone number,â you say. âAnd I asked you on a date.â
The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think heâsâŚblushing?
He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope heâs hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe youâve read this totally wrong. Maybe heâs just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. Heâs here to let you down easy, to tell you heâs not even available, not interested, not â
âAlright,â Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. âIâll take that number.â
Oh.
He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.
âAnd the date?â you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.
âWell, you gonna ask again?â
You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and heâs looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.
âAre you going to say yes?â
âSâwhy I came back,â he admits. âFigured youâd be closinâ. Hoped youâd be free.â
âSo you could read the cup?â
Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting.Â
âMost of it,â he says. âCouldnât make out the last few numbers, though.â
âWell, once weâre done here, Iâm free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.â
Joel turns and youâre in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.
âI do,â he says.Â
It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.
His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what youâre doing and step back outside.
You take a deep breath of fresh air. âGreat.â
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables.Â
âYâknow,â he says. âEllieâs been on my ass about this.â
You laugh, high and bright. âHas she?â
âThat girl ainât capable of missinâ an opportunity to stick her nose in,â he grumbles, but itâs affectionate.Â
âWell, I think sheâs smart,â you goad.Â
âYeah,â he agrees. âReckon she is.â
Joelâs brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.
âOh,â you breathe. âHi.â
âHold still,â he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you donât. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
âGrounds.â His voice is a little hoarse.
âThanks,â you breathe.Â
He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you heâs not wholly unaffected. It makes you feelâŚit just makes you feel.Â
Joel Miller likes you.
âWell, donât just stand there,â you say.
His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.
âThe sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.â
Joel laughs, loud and full. âOh, how generous of you.â
âYouâre very lucky,â you say.
âI agree,â he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.
His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future â watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light.Â
Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.
âSo,â he says. âWhereâre you takinâ me?â
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try me
teasing billie around her family until she snaps ;)
PART ONEâźď¸- just teasing in this part fr
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"billie doesn't even like that show", finneas laughed hitting her knee. you were over at her house for a family gathering and was standing opposite her, leaning against the wall. she was sat, man spreading in her baggy shorts and oversized black jersey. her multicoloured cap shadowed her face but revealed enough to see her playfully glare at her brother. she was wedged between Claudia and finneas laughing in unison with them.
"shut up, I watched it before you did", she rolled her eyes. "oh yeah dude, totally", he replied reaching for his drink. the way she was sitting was driving you crazy. she was so hot. you were lost in your thoughts, eyes wandering up and down her body, thinking of how badly you wanted to be on top of her right now. it wasnt until they all called your name simultaneously that you snapped out of it.
"oh uh, what was that?", your cheeks flush as if they were reading your mind. your filthy thoughts. you started fanning yourself with the collar of your tshirt, swallowing hard. you didnt want to look at billie, you knew a second of eye contact and your knees would give out. still, you couldn't help yourself. you locked eyes with her. fuck. wrong move. she was staring at you, eyes low, biting her raw lips as her hand moved slowly along her thigh. to everyone else, this was normal. to you, you were going insane. that deep stare of hers causing your breath to catch in your throat.
"y-yeah I agree?", your voice cracking slightly as you held her line of sight. the others laughed, including her parents who were sitting on the sofa next to them. they all continued talking, claudia sometimes hitting billies arm when they were joking. except you. you were focused on her. the way her hair fell so effortlessly, her piercing blue eyes, the definition in her face when she spoke or laughed. you wanted her so bad. thank god you were wearing black jeans or, you could've sworn you'd have visible leak marks. why did she turn you on so much by doing so little? little to nothing and you were a mess.
why not have some fun with her?
you approached the table in front of them, kneeling down. "why dont we play uno?", you suggested causing Claudia and finneas to get up and find the cards. their parents were now in the kitchen preparing dinner. taking this as an opportunity, you sat next to her, softly resting your hand on her thigh. you knew what this did to her, anytime your hand touched anywhere, really, she would get riled up. rubbing it slowly, you stared at her. "hey, pretty girl", she said smiling. god, her voice was not helping. you didnt respond, instead leaned your head close to her neck. you felt and watched her breathing get ragged. your lips brushed her throat, moving them to her ear. your hand ran along her arm, squeeing her bicep and smirking knowing she was flexing. "giving me a feel?", you whispered teasingly down her ear.
a soft moan left her lips. "what are you doing?", she replied almost out of breath. "I want you so bad right now", you replied. bilie pushed you back, revealing the desire that swarmed her pupils. her hand gripped your shoulder hard as her fingers began twisting your top. you watched as she sunk her teeth into her lip, bucking her hips up readjusting herself. for a second, you thought she was going to take you right there but, the sounds of the others came into focus, realising youd drowned them out.
"stop", she groaned just as finneas opened the door. you sat up, acting as if nothing happened. the 4 of you began playing with tense, playful arguments filling the room. although you were around people, you kept teasing her. rubbing her arm, putting your hand over hers when playing your cards, letting out moans disguised as frustration. they weren't. billie knew that. every time, she'd shoot you a pained look. a look telling you she was close to breaking. your hand snaked along her thigh, eyes locking in an inviting gaze. it was thrilling.
"getting hot in here, isn't it bils?", you said taking your top off. you had on a crop top underneath, nothing too crazy but to her, it was enough. as if she couldnt control it, you heard a quiet "fuck", come from her, just loud enough for you to hear. finneas agreed opening the window and you couldn't help the tingling from increasing between your thighs at how your girlfriend was reacting. suddenly, a warm, tight grip came around your waist. "lets play as doubles now, yeah?", billies voice surprisingly calm.
"you guys play, im gonna go to the bathroom", you replied to the group, setting your cards down. you stood looking at yourself in the mirror, splashing cold water on your face. you were definitely just as turned on as she was. you were wondering how no-one else picked up on what was going on, you couldve cut the tension with a knife. as you dried your face, you heard the door open and close. looking up, you saw her. face flush, eyes burning with lust, jaw clenched.
you were finally going to get what you wanted.
#billie eilish#billie eilish gf#billie eilish smut#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish fic#billie eilish x you#billie eilish fanfiction
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