#it got to a point where i got back to the dorm room. and i read the note | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solxamber · 17 days ago

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Want You Back with: Housewardens

Where they're still in love with you.

Riddle Rosehearts

After the breakup, Riddle acted like he'd read somewhere that repressing emotion was a perfectly valid coping mechanism. Which, to be fair, he probably had. And so he embarked on what could only be described as a grief management routine so structured and detail-oriented that you almost had to respect it.

First came the part where he behaved like nothing had happened.

He went about his day with all the usual pomp—collaring students, citing arcane dorm rules, and drinking his tea as usual.

If anyone brought you up (on purpose or by accident), he would simply blink, nod, and go back to arranging sugar cubes in a perfect geometric formation. "We are no longer together," he would say, as if it were an administrative change and not, say, a soul-crushing emotional catastrophe.

Then came the coincidences.

He began showing up in places he absolutely did not frequent before. The café you liked? Suddenly, he was a regular. The library on Thursday evenings? There. The very hallway outside your class despite Heartslabyul being on the opposite side of campus? Oh yes. There too. And every time you spotted him lurking (because that was the only word for it), he would give a startled little blink, like you were the surprise.

"Oh. I didn't see you there," he said, the fourth time in a week.

You stared at him from behind your drink. "I've been sitting here for thirty minutes."

"Well," he muttered, "public seating is for everyone."

By week two, he began inventing reasons to talk to you. Weird ones.

He approached you one day, armed with a rulebook and what looked like three sticky notes marking battle locations.

"According to Queen of Hearts rule 42," he said, clearly having practiced this in front of a mirror, "ex-partners must return borrowed items within twelve days."

You blinked. "You lent me a pencil."

"It was part of a set," he snapped, scandalized.

You told him you'll give it back and he looked like someone slapped him.

You thought that might be the end of it. But then, course, it escalated.

He showed up at your door one evening with a paper in his hand. A list. A physical list. Titled, in absolutely unnecessary cursive, "A Non-Exhaustive Record of My Missteps."

"It's not meant to change anything," he said stiffly, not quite looking at you. "Only to… acknowledge."

There were bullet points. Short, awkward, and occasionally baffling.

Should not have critiqued your sock choice in front of your friends.

I apologize for saying 'emotional outbursts are not strategic.' That was, in hindsight, a poor choice of words.

You are allowed to eat dessert before dinner. Even if it is cherry pie.

I realize now that asking if we could schedule arguments during free periods was not romantic.

I should have asked you to stay.

You didn't know what to do with it—him. He was so Riddle about everything. Polite. Procedural. Very slightly insane. But under all the awkward attempts at regulation and paperwork, it was clear he missed you. Badly.

And the truth was, you still hadn't returned the matching pencil.

You kept it. Not because you believed in fate or romance or even well-meaning tyrants who quoted rulebooks like love poems—but because part of you thought, maybe, if he was willing to be just a little more flexible, there might be a version of this that could work.

And you hoped it could.

Leona Kingscholar

After the breakup, Leona made it his personal mission to convince the entire world—Ruggie, his dorm, the mirror in his room, the literal wildlife outside—that he did not care.

He went around saying things like, "Tch. Good riddance," and "Like I got time to babysit someone who cries over movies," even though no one had brought you up. He slept more. Talked less. Got moodier, which no one thought was possible until he started growling at actual potted plants for existing near his nap spots.

Whenever Ruggie so much as hinted at your name—usually while dancing around some scheduling conflict or trying to explain why Leona's mood had tanked again—he'd get cut off mid-word.

"I wasn't even talking about them!" Ruggie would complain.

"Then stop thinking about them so loud," Leona snapped, face buried in the crook of his arm like the concept of you physically hurt his eyes.

But of course, the moment your name stopped being brought up, that became a problem too.

He started acting restless. Less asleep all the time and more awake and clearly trying to look like he's not looking around for someone. He'd frown when someone laughed in the hallway, then look annoyed when it wasn't you. He started showing up to classes he normally skipped, sitting in the back with his legs stretched out and arms crossed like he was doing the entire school a favor just by existing in the room.

And then the things started appearing.

First, it was his jacket—left casually across the back of your desk chair, like maybe gravity had just pulled it there on accident. Then his spellbook, shoved between your textbooks in a way that definitely required premeditated effort. Then a sandwich. An entire sandwich, wrapped up and labeled "Not Yours."

He denied all of it, obviously.

"Must've been Ruggie," he said, regarding the jacket that literally smelled like him.

When confronted about the book: "I don't even read, what're you talking about."

As for the sandwich? "You're imagining things. I didn't make that for you."

By that point, no one believed him—not even himself.

The final blow came in the form of a confrontation you hadn't expected. Late evening, when you were walking back to your dorm from the library. You were alone, or you thought you were, until you turned the corner and found him there—half in shadow, arms crossed, gaze trained somewhere just over your shoulder.

He didn't say hello.

Didn't say anything actually.

Just let the silence stretch until it started fraying at the edges, and then muttered, voice low and rough:

"You still want this, don't you?"

You stared at him. He didn't flinch, but you could tell he wanted to. He held himself like someone who didn't expect the answer to be yes, but still desperately needed to hear it before he gave up entirely.

And you realized somewhere between the jacket, the sandwich, and the way his voice cracked at the end of the sentence—that for all his snarling and attitude, he never stopped loving you.

He just didn't know how to ask you to stay without sounding like he might actually need you.

Which, of course, he did. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Not yet, anyway.

But the next time he leaves something behind, you think you might return it in person. Maybe even stay awhile.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul handled the breakup the only way he knew how: with spreadsheets, surveillance footage, and a truly unhealthy amount of denial.

He claimed to be fine, of course. Said it with a straight face while color-coding inventory spreadsheets and inputting customer satisfaction data at four in the morning like a man unburdened by heartbreak. But when the tweels found the Lounge security footage paused—again—on a scene of you laughing near the bar, they stopped asking.

He'd memorized the timestamp.

And no, he didn't want to talk about it.

Azul had always been prone to spiraling in a unique way. After the breakup, that tendency mutated into something truly concerning. He didn't cry. He didn't wallow. Instead, he opened a blank document and began calculating. How many hours you'd spent together. How often you laughed in his presence. What the average rate of eye contact was in happy couples versus yours. There were charts. Graphs. Some kind of weighted affection index.

Unfortunately, Jade opened the file looking for the March sales report and instead found a document titled:

"Projected Probability of Them Still Loving Me (v6)."

He would not let him live it down.

"Idea," Floyd said. "You wanna run those numbers again but include the variable where you're super pathetic lately?"

Even Jade raised an eyebrow. "The correlation between desperation and appeal might not be as linear as you'd hope."

Azul tried to brush them off. He even lied (very badly) about what the spreadsheet was for ("Just… tax optimization. Personal hobby. Totally normal."), but the damage was done. The eels were smug. He was mortified. And worst of all, he still couldn't stop thinking about you.

So he pivoted.

If direct emotional vulnerability had failed him, perhaps passive-aggressive marketing would do the trick.

You started receiving coupons. Neatly folded, hand-delivered, no return address—but you recognized the ink. And the handwriting. And the aggressively formal tone that somehow still managed to sound like begging.

"One (1) free drink of your choice at the Mostro Lounge. Offer valid for exes statistically proven to be an optimal match."

Another read:

"Your preferred drink has been discontinued. Kidding. Please come back."

And your personal favorite:

"A reminder that our pairing was 94.3% ideal. Come back. For research."

You didn't respond. He didn't expect you to. But every week, a new coupon showed up—some increasingly ridiculous, some borderline romantic, all of them signed with that same flourish he used when pretending he wasn't panicking.

You weren't sure if it was pathetic or endearing. Probably both. The coupons had piled up in a drawer now, next to a coaster you never returned and a little napkin with a sketch he once made of you during a slow night.

You told yourself it was nostalgia. Curiosity. Scientific inquiry, if anything.

And one slow afternoon, you found yourself digging through the drawer, smoothing out the least crumpled coupon, and thinking—just for a moment—that you might stop by.

For research. Obviously.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim took the breakup as well as someone who had never actually took a negative emotion in his life to heart could. Which was to say: terribly.

He cried. A lot. At first, it was appropriate—private tears, sniffles in the dorm room, a distant gaze over his drink. But then it started happening at other times. Like during an ad for laundry detergent where the happy couple folded towels together. Or during a weather report where the forecast mentioned rain, which, apparently, you once said made you sleepy. Or during absolutely nothing at all, except that the sun was setting "a little too much like that one day you held his hand, remember?"

He insisted he was fine.

"Totally fine!" he chirped, voice three octaves higher than normal, eyes red-rimmed and suspiciously glossy. "Breakups happen all the time, right? We're both growing and learning! It's healthy!"

No one believed him.

Jamil looked like he was considering reporting you to the disciplinary committee just to end Kalim's reign of emotionally unhinged sunshine. Even Grim asked if someone should "turn him off and back on again."

But Kalim doubled down. If he couldn't be fine naturally, he'd brute-force his way into happiness. Which, in his mind, meant: throwing parties. So many parties. For no reason. His calendar suddenly became a horror show of "themed celebration nights" and "spontaneous joy hours," all of which were weirdly tailored around your favorite things.

"Here!" he said brightly, handing out goodie bags. "Everyone gets this specific brand of chocolates and stickers! Because those are just objectively fun! Not because anyone used to love them or anything!"

It was transparent. Alarmingly so.

Even when he gave someone a little clay charm that looked exactly like the one you wore on your bag, Kalim waved it off with a too-wide smile. "Just spreading the joy! It's important to stay positive, right?"

Everyone knew it was a cry for help. The kind that sounded like party poppers and glitter and repressed sobbing in the school gardens.

The turning point came on a quiet afternoon when he showed up at your door holding a tiny cupcake. It had a frosting heart on it. His hands shook slightly.

"I know this is weird," he said, already teary. "I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. I just—"

He swallowed, voice cracking like something inside him was giving up the act for good.

"Even if you don't love me again," he said, "can we still be something?"

You looked at him—his earnest eyes, his trembling lower lip—and you felt something soft and painfully familiar unfurl in your chest.

Because Kalim didn't know how to lie to the people he loved. Not well. Not really. He was all impulse and heart, the kind of boy who loved too loud and too fast and never quite knew how to stop once he started.

And maybe you weren't ready to be what you were. Not yet.

But looking at him, at the little cupcake with the slightly smudged heart and the the way he was holding it like he might shatter if you didn't take it—

How could you say no?

You took the cupcake. And maybe his hand, too. Just for a moment. Just to see if something could still bloom.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil did not mourn the breakup. Mourning was for people who couldn't maintain composure under pressure. For people who let emotion smudge their mascara. He was not one of those people.

At least, not publicly.

He was flawless. Unbothered. The exact picture of someone thriving post-relationship, thank you very much. His interviews were polished. His smiles were poised. His posture was impeccable. If anyone noticed that his usual acerbic wit had gone curiously blunt, no one said anything.

They wouldn't dare.

Privately, though, when the cameras were off and the spotlight blinked out, Vil cracked in very small ways.

He started using your favorite perfume. A subtle layer, never enough to be obvious, but just enough to make him feel like you were still somewhere in the room. Like maybe if he breathed in deep enough, he could hold onto something.

He flipped through magazines during lunch breaks, claiming it was for "market research." But every time he lingered on a movie review or a lifestyle spread, it was with the faint, ridiculous hope that you'd read it too. That your fingers might have touched the same paper. That your eyes caught the same line he was rereading for the fifth time.

He knew it was foolish. But Vil had always been prone to beautiful illusions. It was sort of his thing.

The unraveling came, ironically, in the most public of places: a toothpaste commercial.

He was halfway through filming, mid-speech about the importance of a radiant smile, when something in the script triggered a memory—something you once said about how his laugh.

He kept talking.

Kept improvising.

Went off-script entirely.

The crew let him go for a minute—Vil was known for his "emotional depth," after all—but when he hit the line "even the most polished smile can still ache when it remembers someone who made it feel real," the director had to call cut.

"Vil," they said gently. "It's a toothpaste commercial."

He didn't speak for the rest of the shoot. Just touched up his own makeup in silence, eyes a little glassy.

It took him another week to knock on your door.

He showed up in a soft sweater, smelling faintly of something familiar, holding his own hands like he didn't know what else to do with them.

He didn't ask for much. Didn't ask for forever. Just quietly, cautiously:

"Would you like to try again?"

And you thought—looking at him, at the person who once swore he'd never show up like this for anyone, at the vulnerability hiding under all that polish—

Maybe this time, you could make it work.

Idia Shroud

Idia handled the breakup the way he handled most things in life: with a complete and total digital meltdown, buried under forty layers of denial and an emotionally scorched Discord server.

He didn't text. Didn't call. Didn't even leave passive-aggressive emoji reactions on your old posts like a normal ex with unresolved feelings. He simply… disappeared.

Vanished like a ghost into his room, into his code, into the vast and uncaring expanse of the internet, where feelings didn't exist unless they were typed in all caps or conveyed through a crying anime girl gif.

And for a while, it was total radio silence.

Until you logged into that game.

The shared one. The one you used to play together after class, where the two of you ran a little shop in a pixelated fantasy village and spent an embarrassing amount of time farming digital potatoes.

Your shop was still there.

But now there was… a shrine.

Your character's pixel art face, recreated painstakingly in custom tiles and surrounded by in-game flowers, torches, and glowing pink mood crystals that did not exist in the vanilla version of the game.

He'd modded it.

There was a sign in the middle that just said:

"Here Lies Happiness (RIP)"

You stared at it for a long time. Then, just to confirm the ridiculous suspicion building in your chest, you checked the nearby player list.

Sure enough, his username had changed too:

"SadBoy420"

Online. Loitering.

You didn't message him immediately. Mostly because you weren't sure what to say to someone who had quite literally built a shrine to your relationship in a farming sim. But still—you lingered. Logged in more often. Left offerings of rare items near the shrine like it was some strange, silent conversation.

Idia never spoke to you directly, but you noticed the shrine changed a little every day. One day it had a sign that said "I'm Fine." The next, it was replaced with a drawing of your characters fishing together. One morning it was just a massive, pixel-art rendition of the word "SORRY" in bold letters with a sad face emoji.

Outside the game, his silence continued.

But Ortho?

Ortho was not subtle.

"Did you know my brother has been listening to the voicemails you left him on loop for the past 72 hours?" he chirped once in the cafeteria. "Not that he's, like, sad or anything! Just nostalgic. Definitely not crying."

Later: "He made your favorite NPC in our custom server the town mayor! Isn't that cute? I mean, objectively, not emotionally, haha."

Eventually, you got the call.

Your phone lit up with his name and you answered before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Uh—hey," Idia said, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't, like, mean to call. Or—I did, but. Crap. Okay. Hi."

You waited.

He took a breath.

"I was just wondering," he said, "if you maybe wanted to talk again. Or, y'know. Game. No pressure or anything. It's fine if you're, like, over it and I'm just like a pathetic ghost haunting your social life, haha, classic tragic NPC vibes—"

"Yes," you said, before he could spiral into apologizing for existing.

He paused. Long enough that you thought the call had dropped. Then, quietly—hopeful, almost disbelieving:

"Wait. Really?"

You smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

"Yeah," you said. "Log in."

Malleus Draconia

Malleus did not understand how something so radiant could simply… end.

He didn't throw a dramatic tantrum after the breakup. He didn't disappear in a swirl of thunderclouds or curse the moon or anything out of a tragic love story.

He didn't so much as frown in public, because the full gravity of the breakup hadn't quite hit him yet. Instead, it settled in stranger places—quiet things, strange habits.

Like how he started speaking to the plush bat you gave him on his last birthday as though it were you. Not in a creepy way, more like someone who didn't know what to do with the empty space you left behind.

He asked it questions. Told it how his day went. Laughed, sometimes, as if it had told him a joke—low and fond, the kind of laugh only you had ever coaxed out of him. And when he sat beneath the stars, plush cradled carefully in his lap, he whispered to it with a gentleness reserved only for the lost.

The gargoyles? They weren't even sentient, but even they seemed exhausted. Every night he stood in front of them, musing out loud about the way you smiled or how you always called him weird little nicknames. One of them lost a nose—maybe unrelated.

Lilia, bless him, said nothing for a long while. He simply watched as Malleus wilted, quietly and beautifully, like a flower sealed in ice. But one evening, after Malleus asked in the softest voice, "Do humans ever come back when they leave?", Lilia did not answer. He only wrapped his arms around his ward and held him close.

At some point, he started writing letters. Not to send, just… to say things. Things he didn't know how to tell you, or hadn't said enough when he could. Some were serious. Some were barely legible thoughts written in the middle of the night. But he kept them all, folded neatly in a box that lived under his bed.

And then, of course, Silver found the box.

Silver, ever helpful and half-asleep, assumed it was mail Malleus meant to send and delivered the whole thing to your dorm like it was completely normal to get a hand-bound novel of unsent love letters dropped off on a random day.

You read them all.

You didn't say anything at first. You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. But that night, you left your window open—just a little.

And sure enough, just past midnight, Malleus appeared outside your dorm. Just… standing there. Looking up.

He didn't ask to come in. He didn't even call your name. He just waited. Like maybe you'd hear the quiet, and somehow understand.

And when you finally stepped outside, he looked at you like he'd been waiting centuries.

"May I court you again?" he asked softly. "From the beginning."

And really… how could you say no?

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singmyaubade · 9 months ago

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Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?

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allurearia · 9 months ago

Text

Are you ladies alright?

Where Mattheo certainty didn't expect you of all people to open the door.

Mattheo riddle x reader. Fluff!!

It was a typical Friday evening at Hogwarts, Marking the end of a busy week for everyone. Mattheo, Theodore, and Lorenzo were lounging in the Slytherin common room, bored out of their minds.

“Alright, I’ve got an idea,” Mattheo said with a smirk.

“What are you scheming now? Mattheo” Theodore asked, already suspicious.

Mattheo chuckled, tossing a ball of paper he had folded up after fucking up his notes in charms and spilling ink over it. “You know that Muggle TikTok thing? Where a guy stands in front of a girl’s door, knocks, and someone throws a ball just in time for him to catch it and be all suave? I say we do it.”

Lorenzo laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, you can’t tell me this won’t be fun. Besides, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.”

Theodore sighed but couldn’t hide his grin. “Alright, I’m in. Who’s the target?”

Mattheo’s eyes gleamed. “Let’s just start with Pansy’s dorm.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. “You're sure about that?”

Mattheo just shrugged, unbothered. “What could go wrong?”

The three of them made their way to the girls' dormitory, carefully slipping past a prefect who knew better than to stop them at this point. They reached Pansy’s door, and Mattheo took his place in front of it. Theodore held the ball, and Lorenzo stood a little to the side, ready to jump in if the ball Theo throws suddenly changed paths.

Mattheo knocked on the door, face completely calm as if this was the most normal thing in the world. They could hear what they assumed to be Pansy’s footsteps approaching, the door creaking open just a crack.

But instead of Pansy, you stood there.

You had been hanging out in Pansy's dorm, just chatting and relaxing after the hectic week you all had, completely unaware of the chaos awaiting you on the other side of the door. The moment you appeared, everything froze.

Theo, ready to throw, panicked slightly spotting you first. His throw went way off course and slammed directly into Mattheo's chest instead of near his head where his hands were cupped to catch. Mattheo winced, muttering a low "bloody hell" under his breath as the ball rolled off his chest. He quickly scrambled to grab it, hoping to salvage the moment.

Despite the mishap, Mattheo was determined to play it cool. He turned around, ball in hand, and prepared to deliver the line but then he saw you.

His breath caught in his throat. Instead of Pansy’s usual sarcastic smirk or dismissive eye roll, he was greeted by your soft, curious expression. For a moment, Mattheo’s mind went blank. You stood there, looking effortlessly radiant in the dim hallway light, and all of his usual confidence seemed to fade away.

You blinked at him, clearly confused but amused. A small, awkward smile played on your lips, as if you were trying to figure out what exactly was going on but found the whole thing oddly funny.

Mattheo stared for a moment too long, the ball still clutched in his hand as he tried to remember what he was supposed to say. His heart pounded in his chest, not because of the ball that had just hit him, but because he wasn’t expecting you to be the one opening the door.

Finally, he managed to find his voice, but it wasn’t the smooth, cocky tone he was aiming for. “Uh… are you ladies alright?”

It came out awkwardly, almost like a question he wasn’t even sure of himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, biting your lip to hold back more giggles. Your reaction made the whole situation even more endearing, and Mattheo felt his cheeks heat up, though he'd never admit it.

After a brief moment of awkward silence, you gave him a warm, amused smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah… we’re alright,” you replied with a chuckle, not really knowing what else to say. You shot a final glance at the trio behind him and then gently closed the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, there was a beat of silence before Lorenzo and Theo erupted into laughter. Lorenzo clutched his stomach, practically howling. “Oh, Merlin Mattheo, you were speechless! Absolutely speechless!”

Theo wiped a fake tear from his eye, grinning wickedly. “You should’ve seen your face! All that attitude gone the moment you saw her. You looked like a lost puppy.”

Mattheo’s ears turned red as he glared at his two friends. “Shut up,” he muttered darkly, still gripping the ball in his hand as if it were Theo’s head he wanted to crush. “You’re the one who can’t throw for shit.”

“Oh, blame it on the throw, sure. But we all saw what really happened,” Theo teased, nudging Lorenzo. “Man gets taken down by a pretty girl. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the flustered feeling creeping up his stoamch. “I’d worry about your Quidditch skills if I were you, Theo. Chaser with an arm like that? Surprised you haven’t been benched.”

Theo only laughed harder. “Mate, I don’t think Quidditch is the real problem here.”

Lorenzo, still grinning from ear to ear, slapped Mattheo on the back. “Hey, don’t worry, Riddle. It seems like you've finally met someone who knows how to make you shut the fuck up for once”

Mattheo glowered at both of them, but deep down, his mind was still replaying the way you had smiled at him before closing the door.

Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he knew he was in trouble.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Pt - 2 "is the lady alright?"

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #slytherin #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #harry potter #bassed of that one tiktok of the guy being completely sppeechless as the girl opens the door #IT WAS SO CUTE OMG I KNEW I HAD TO WRITE IT FOR MATTY #yall cannot convice me they didn't fall in love right then and there

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wafflefries13 · 4 months ago

Text

Sick Day, But Cute (Multi TWST Cast X Reader)

Summary: A magical illness is spreading through NRC, with some... rather adorable symptoms. AKA, all your friends are suddenly toddlers?!

AN: I actually ended up starting this waaaay back when I started writing fanfiction again, but sort of forgot about it and found it again recently. It's kind of at this point where I realized a lot my tics in writing. Thanks for reading! Cross posed on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen.

Warnings: Fluff, platonic relationships, AFAB reader, She/Her pronouns

From “Perfect Prefect”: omg, omg, omg

From “Jacked”: What’s up?

From “Juice”: Is there another overblot?!

From “Aces High”: I’ve got ten madol that it’s someone from Diasomnia

From “Crocodile Tears”: As if! Diasomnia students are far too refined and disciplined for that!

From “Eple Pie”: I’ll match that bet, Ace!

From “Crocodile Tears”: Hey!

From “Astro Boy”: What happened, (Y/N)?

From “Perfect Prefect”: Look who I found!

From “Perfect Prefect”: Picture sent

From “Juice”: …

From “Eple Pie”: omg is right.

From “Jacked”: Is that…?

From “Aces High”: On my way!

Despite the vast campus of Night Raven College, the group of first years convened on the Ramshackle dorm within minutes of the picture being sent.

“Grim,” (Y/N) called out to her fireball cat monster roommate. “Can you make sure the front door is unlocked? I don’t want them busting it down like last time.”

“Can’t you do it? I’m still scrubbing ink out of my fur!”

(Y/N) lifted the bundle in their arms, the cause of the excitement. “Sort of got my hands full here.”

A slam and the sound of cracking wood emanate from the front hall, followed by, “(Y/N!)”

The prefect sighed. “Too late.”

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek practically tripped over each other as they rushed into the sitting room, freezing in their tracks when they saw the Prefect and the small purple-and-white form they were cradling.

“So,” (Y/N) said, breaking the shocked silence. “I’m guessing this is one of those weird magic things?”

A large pair of blue-gray eyes peeked out from a mass of dark purple tentacles twisted around (Y/N)’s arms, gripping for dear life, before quickly ducking back down in hiding. The small figure emitted a small wail. (Y/N) bounced the tiny octopus-mer in their arms. “Shh, it’s alright, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Jack took a cautious step forward, reaching out a nervous hand. “Is that… really Azul?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I mean, it has to be, right?”

“It has to be?” Epel echoed. “What the heck happened?

“I was hoping you guys would be able to help me figure that out. Azul came over this morning to talk about a bill someone had racked up at the Monstro Lounge.” (Y/N) not so subtly glared at Grim, who rolled his eyes and kept scrubbing at his octo-ink stained fur. “I left the room for just a second to get some tea and when I came back, boom! Baby Azul.”

“Oh, man, this is great,” Ace snickered while pulling out his phone. “This’ll be great blackmail the next time he tries to get us into a stupid contract.”

“Ace, wait-!”

Before (Y/N) could warn them, Azul reared back and spit a large black glob of ink at Ace’s phone, covering his phone and hands and splattering his uniform.

“Yeah, he doesn’t really like having his picture taken.”

“Ugh!” Ace waved his hands, sending ink spraying the other first years with black goop. “You got a picture!”

(Y/N) shrugged with a smirk. “Maybe he just likes me more.”

Ortho cautiously hovered closer. “My scans indicate this is in fact Azul Ashengrotto. There is some sort of magical residue surrounding his body.”

“You think someone cursed him?” Deuce asked. “Hey, stop!” He shouted as Ace tried to wipe the ink on his jacket.

Sebek crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t be surprised, considering what he tries to get away with.”

Azul started sniffling. “Hey, knock it off!” (Y/N) defended.

Ortho tilted his head, examining Azul closer. Azul reached out a hand, fascinated by the lights on Ortho’s body and glowing hair. “I don’t recognize this kind of magical resonance from any curses,” Ortho said. “But I can research and find out! Idia might know something!”

“What are you going to do with him?” Jack asked, poking a tentacle that was wrapped tightly around (Y/N)’s arm.

“I’m going to drop him off with Jade then let the Headmage know what’s going on. You know, see if he actually has any answers for once.”

“Mrow!” Grim yelled, frustrated, throwing down the ink-stained rag he had been desperately using to try and clean his fur. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but that octo-punk is gonna pay for ruining my perfect fur!”

Epel sighed. “Hang on, Vil taught me some ways to get stains out. Maybe I can help. Prefect, do you have hairspray?”

“Check the upstairs bathroom, Grim can show you. Ortho, let me know if you find anything out, okay?”

Ortho saluted. “Roger that!”

Sebek rubbed his chin in thought. “Lilia might know something. And if anyone can reverse a curse, it would be Lord Malleus! Ashengrotto should be eternally grateful for the future king’s assistance-!”

“I’ll come with you to Octavinelle,” Jack cut in, purposefully ignoring Sebek’s offended look at being interrupted.

“Deuce and I have to report back to Heartslabyul,” Ace said as the two card soldiers flicked ink at each other. “If Riddle sees us like this we’ll be on hedgehog duty for a month.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Sounds like we have a plan, then. Let me know if anyone hears anything. Or maybe sees anymore babies.” They rubbed their nose against baby Azul’s, causing the little house warden to giggle.

The first years all went their separate ways, Jack, (Y/N), and their squirming package headed to the mirror chamber.

“Do you think he needs water?” Jack asked. “He’s a merman after all.”

(Y/N) carded their fingers through Azul’s soft, fluffy hair. “I gave him some earlier and he seemed okay. I’m sure the less time out of water is better though. We don’t want any octo-jerky, do we, Azul?” They tickled him under his chin.

Jack couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. As many problems as he had with the cunning and scheming house warden, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his younger siblings back home. “You’re good with children.”

The prefect blinked up at him, surprised. “You think?”

“You’ve managed to keep a rein on that one, at least. He looks like he’ll burst out crying the second you stop paying attention to him.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’m just spoiling him, then. That’s okay, though, right, Azul? You’re cute enough to spoil, right?” (Y/N) held him up, his tentacles wrapping tight around their arms. He made grabby hands to come back closer, giggling and basking in the attention. Jack chuckled and (Y/N) mockingly glared at him. “We never say a word of this when he turns back, of course.”

Jack nodded seriously. “Of course.”

“(Y/N)! Jack!” The two stopped. Kalim waved at them, jogging over with Jamil following behind. “Hi! What’s going on?”

“I would love to know,” (Y/N) said, shrugging.

Kalim stopped in his tracks, causing Jamil to almost crash into him, as he spied Azul. Kalim practically squealed with delight and rushed over. “Oh my gosh! How cute! Does Azul have a little brother?”

“Not… exactly,” (Y/N) said. She quickly summarized the situation.

While Kalim gushed over the toddler, Azul was more interested in Jamil, reaching out with his chubby hands and tentacles to try and wrap around his hands. “Aww,” Kalim said. “He remembers you!”

“I don’t know how much of that is a good thing,” Jamil scowled, torn between jerking his hands away and indulging the mer-boy in his exploration.

“Jamil, you know everything, got any ideas?” (Y/N) asked.

Jamil huffed, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not everything, apparently. Some sort of curse, obviously, but other than that I’m sure you would need to do some type of testing.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what we thought.”

They said their goodbyes, Kalim waving enthusiastically at Azul who really didn’t seem to know how to respond to his exuberance.

The trio arrived at the mirror chamber, stepping through to Octavinelle. The temperature immediately dropped several degrees due to the water surrounding the dorm, suspended in the air around the building and walkways. The light took on a cool blue tint, interrupted by the shadows of fish darting through the water. (Y/N) often wondered if the dorm was actually underwater or if this was some sort of illusion to help the mer students that made up the majority of the dorm feel more at home.

“I have to admit,” Jack said, looking around for either of the Leech twins. “The more I think about leaving Azul here, the more nervous I get.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Jade is good in a crisis and Floyd is surprisingly gentle with kids. Plus, they were all friends when they were little, maybe Azul will recognize them or something.” She frowned in thought. “Although, now that you mention it, I do suppose this would be a perfect opportunity to take advantage of.”

“My, I didn’t realize you had such a low opinion of us.” (Y/N) and Jack jumped, spinning to face the Ocatvinelle vice-housewanden. He was smiling slyly but wiped away a fake tear from his eye. “And here I thought we had built a trusted rapport.”

“Depends on the crisis, maybe,” (Y/N) said. “Or the potential reward.”

“Ooh, are we talking about rewards?” Floyd slid next to (Y/N), throwing a causal arm around their shoulders. “Not sure if it’s worth the effort, but I’ll take-” He cut himself off, eyes growing wide. He jerked forward, putting himself nose to nose with the tiny octo-mer. “No way, no way! Jade, check this out!”

“Oh dear,” Jade said, stepping forward. He actually looked surprised for once. “Isn’t this a blast from the past?”

Azul let out a small wail as Floyd started poking at him and tugging his tentacles. (Y/N) smacked his hand. “Hey, cut it out! Poor thing is having a hard day.”

“What exactly happened?” Jade asked. He chucked as Azul puffed up his cheeks in annoyance.

“We were hoping you might have an idea,” Jack said.

“He showed up at Ramshackle today normal, then, well… I didn’t see when it happened.”

Floyd snatched Azul out of (Y/N)’s arms, ignoring their protest, and held him high up. “Aww, aren’t you a cute little guppy? Maybe we should just keep you like this for a while. You don’t yell at me nearly as much!”

Azul puckered his lips in a now familiar motion. “Floyd, look out-!” (Y/N) tried to warn.

In the next second, Floyd’s face was covered in black ink. Jack and (Y/N) froze in tense anticipation. Floyd blinked before his sharp toothy smile split across his face. He burst out laughing, cuddling Azul, who was writhing in a desperate attempt to escape. “You haven’t done that since we were kids!”

Jade gently pried Azul away from Floyd, using a handkerchief to dab away dribbling ink from Azul’s face. “Perhaps I should bring him to our swim tank. Floyd, would you mind grabbing a pot and lid from the Monstro Lounge kitchen?”

Floyd frowned. “Aww, but if he hides I can’t pinch his big cheeks anymore!”

“That’s exactly the point.”

(Y/N) took a step back, worry about Azul’s condition and care growing smaller but not disappearing completely. “I’m going to go ask Crowley if he has any idea what’s going on. I’ll let you guys know once I know something.”

Jade waved a hand. “Please, take your time. I think we’ll have a fine time together, won’t we, Azul?”

“Uh, yeah, we’ll leave it to you guys, then.” (Y/N) ruffled Azul’s hair. “Bye, buddy. I’ll see you soon and hopefully we’ll get back to normal.”

Floyd hummed thoughtfully. “Hey, how much do you think he’ll remember when he turns back?”

As Jack and (Y/N) left Octavinelle, Jack decided to go back to Savanaclaw. “I’ll ask Leona if he has any idea about this, too. He may not like putting effort into things, but he is probably one of the most talented mages here.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for your help.” They parted ways and (Y/N) headed back to the main school building to talk to Crowley. Heading up the stairs, their phone rang, #CayCay showing up on the caller ID. “Hey, Cater, what’s up?”

“Uh, hey,” Cater said, slightly panicked, although he was clearly still trying to sound carefree. “Ace and Deuce were with you earlier, right? Were they, uh, okay?”

(Y/N) blinked, a nervous churning settling in their stomach. “Yeah? Ace kind of got, uh, in a mess, but they were okay when they left. What happened?”

“Oh, you know, it’s probably fine, Riddle’s looking into- No, wait! Deuce, don’t put that in your mouth!”

The line suddenly went dead. (Y/N) spun back down the stairs and sprinted to the Heartslabyul mirror portal.

Stepping through the mirror portal into Heatslabyul immediately assaulted (Y/N) with the scent of roses laced with sugar. Much brighter than Octavinelle, it was more confusing in its layout, with twisting paths that often doubled back on each other and confusing topiary walls. But (Y/N) was able to beeline to their destination, following the alarmed yelling.

“I’m here, I’m here!” She said, sliding into part of the garden where they often held unbirthday parties. “What happen- oh.”

(Y/N) had gotten used to the sight of a younger Azul, but the child Ace and Deuce sent a whole new wave of confusion and dread through them. The two of them were wrestling, getting grass stains on their uniforms with cake smooshed on their faces. Cater cooed from a distance safe from cake splatter taking pictures with his phone.

“(Y/N)! There you are!” (Y/N) turned to greet Trey but froze. He held a small, scowling redhead child.

“Oh. Oh, no.”

“That’s not an inaccurate read of the situation,” Trey said, chuckling as the little Riddle yelled at Ace and Deuce to stop roughhousing and getting dirty.

(Y/N) quickly explained the situation that had happened that morning with Azul. “They were fine when they left! It wasn’t even an hour ago.”

“We’re not sure what happened either,” Trey said. “Another student came to get me a minute ago. He said Riddle was lecturing Ace and Deuce for getting their uniforms dirty with ink, however that happened,” (Y/N) gulped and looked away. “Then there was a crash and they were just like this.”

(Y/N) sighed and put their hands on their hips. “At this point I kind of just accept this magic nonsense can do anything.”

“Have you asked any of the teachers about it yet?”

“I was heading to Crowley when Cater called me. Hey, Cater, did you see- Oh, come on.” Cater had now joined Ace and Deuce playing on the lawn, albeit in a much younger form. He tapped the screen of his phone hard, seemingly taking more delight in the random colors and shapes than the actual function of anything.

“Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Come on, Trey, let’s bring them to the Headmage, or the infirmary at the very least. Trey?” (Y/N) closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. “If I turn around and you're a kid, Trey, I think I just might scream.” They opened their eyes and looked around. Riddle and a tiny Trey, with glasses too big for his face, were hiding under the white metal table in the garden, playing cards. “Okay, fine, it’s too cute for me to scream. But I’m still very annoyed.” They snuck their phone out to get a couple of quick snapshots of the Heartslabyul children. Thoroughly documented for future reference, and future embarrassment, (Y/N) leaned under the table. “Riddle, sweetheart, can you help me get everyone in order? We’re going on a little field trip.”

Riddle jumped up to attention, tiny face set in determination. He raced out, corralling Ace, Deuce, and Cater over to (Y/N). Ace and Deuce raced around their legs before Ace tripped and fell. His eyes started to well up with tears. (Y/N) quickly leaned down and swept him up in their arms. They decided to ignore how Ace stuck his tongue out at Deuce. Compromising by holding Duece’s hand, she lead the small group back through the mirror portal to the Headmage’s office.

She had to use her foot to kick open the door. “Crowley, we’ve got a problem.”

“I am perfectly aware of the situation! Oh, it appears I am not perfectly aware.”

(Y/N) stopped to take in the chaos of Crowley’s office. Not only was a tiny Vil with perfect posture scolding a roughed-up-looking Epel with Rook, his hat engulfing his now little head, tugged on Vil’s sleeve for his attention, but a small Leona was curled up in a patch of sunlight snoozing. A young Ruggie was sneakily going through drawers on Crowley’s desk, and a child Jack was gently petting a tiny charcoal kitten with a forked tail and blue flames coming out of his ears munching on cookies. A toddler Jamil was hovering over a small and smiling Kalim who was drawing with markers on what looked like important school paperwork. Although, there was more drawing on his and Jamil’s skin than the actual paper. Possibly most surprising, however, were the three pre-teens and an exhausted-looking teenager around the room. They also looked concerningly familiar.

(Y/N) blinked, setting down Ace and Deuce who rushed off to play with a rambunctious Epel. “Professors? Coach? Sam?”

The much younger Professor Crewel huffed and put his hands on his hips. “If one more person calls me ‘professor’ I’m going to scream.”

“Come on, Divus!” The younger, but still surprisingly buff, Coach Vargus said. “Have an adventure! This isn’t all bad!” Vargus fell on his back, scooping up Kalim and Cater who were running around and used them as press weights while the two giggled. A young Sam was listening very intently to Vil and Rook’s conversation, even if most of it was incoherent babbling.

“So,” (Y/N) said hesitantly. “That would make you…” They looked at the person who had been reduced to around their age.

“Mozus Trein,” He said matter of factly. He held Lucius, still a full-grown cat who looked even bigger in the young boy’s hands. “I take it I am a teacher here as well?”

“Uh, yeah. You don’t remember?”

He sniffed. “I can’t exactly remember something that hasn’t happened to me yet, now can I?”

“So you all have just always been like this. Okay, cool. Crowley?”

Crowley looked up from playing with Deuce, who was fascinated by the former’s mask. “Hm? Oh, yes, well, as near as I can understand, there seems to be some sort of magical virus curse. It’s spread through contact, so our best bet of minimizing effect would be to enact a quarantine.” He lifted Deuce’s hands in celebration. “Sleepover! Yay!”

(Y/N) rubbed the bridge of their nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Okay, I get how that might have happened to these guys, but what about the professors?”

Crowley waved a hand. “Bucci came to my office earlier with Kingscholar and Howl. Immediately sensing the issue at hand, for I am intuitive and precise, I called forth our faculty to help round up any other signs of infection. Although, it seems our virus is more contagious than I first thought.”

(Y/N) scratched behind the kitten Grim’s ears. He blinked up at them with large blue eyes and let out a tiny, “Mew.” (Y/N) felt their heart melt a little.

“What about me?” She asked. “I’ve been in contact with everyone who’s changed but I’m still fine.”

“I would assume the virus spreads through magic,” The young Professor Trein said. “If you have no magical ability, you’re cut off from the method of infection.”

“It also appears not all of us have been reduced to the same age,” Boy-Professor Crewel added. “It probably has something to do with how old we all were originally, cutting back by a set number of years.”

“And any idea how long it will last?” (Y/N) asked hesitantly. “No idea!” Crowley said, with not nearly enough seriousness that the situation required, lifting Ruggie into the air, his pockets bursting with various office supplies he had plundered from around the room.

“Oh, man,” (Y/N) groaned. They jerked back to attention. “Oh, man! I left Azul with Jade and Floyd! If he’s patient zero he’s probably spread the infection already!”

Crowley nodded. “It would be imperative to retrieve them, as well as anyone else infected. We’ll meet in the gymnasium until we have a further understanding of how long this should last.”

“Alright, I’ll go get them and- Wait! Sebek! He was heading back to Diasomnia! He might have infected someone else. I’ll check there then- Really?”

Now, a boy about fifteen in a long feathered coat with a black bird mask bounced Ruggie on his knee. “Hmm? Did something happen?”

“Don’t worry,” Professor Crewel said, even if it felt strange calling him that when he appeared so young. “We’ll take care of it. We’ll meet you in the gym.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Alright, team, we’ll all meet up in an hour at the gym. Coach Var- uh, Ashton? Can you stop by the kitchens to ask the ghosts to make us something for dinner? If we’re all quarantined we won’t want to stop by during rush hour in the cafeteria. Sam, check out the infirmary and grab blankets and anything else that’ll make spending the night more comfortable. We’ll work on a more permanent solution tomorrow. Mozus, Divus, and Crowley, I’m trusting you three to keep all the kids in order and get them to the gym safely.”

“Go, Team, go!” Ashton shouted, encouraging the other children to cheer. He swept the sleeping Leona up, who growled and kicked at the older boy.

“Go, team,” (Y/N) echoed weakly.

Nervously leaving the group to migrate to the gym, (Y/N) made their way back to Octavinelle to see if the, admittedly kind of funny and cute, virus had spread further. On their way across campus, (Y/N) pulled out their phone and fired a quick text to Ortho.

From “Perfect Prefect”: What are the chances you haven’t made it back to the dorm yet?

From “Astro Boy”: Poor! I’ve been back for 23 minutes and 15 seconds!

From “Perfect Prefect”: And I’m guess Idia is a lot smaller now?

From “Astro Boy”: Picture sent

(Y/N) tapped open the attached picture. It was a selfie of Ortho, his eyes twinkling brightly in enthusiastic excitement. He held the phone up high, capturing the image of him holding a toddler sized Idia practically swimming in his already oversized jacket. The tiny Ida had tears pricking the corners of his large yellow eyes, clutching a soft purple demon-looking plush.

From “Astro Boy”: Now I’m the big brother!

From “Perfect Prefect”: Crowly says it’s a virus. I’m guessing it’s a safe bet that Idia hasn’t been around anyone recently? We’re quarantining in the gym till we figure this out.

From “Astro Boy”: I’ll bring games!

(Y/N) jogged back to the mirror chamber, bursting through the portal back into Octavinelle. She did a quick sweep of the Monstro Lounge, interrogating a few confused student-waiters, then headed to the dorm proper. Nothing in the main lobby, a few clusters in the study room, just drying clothes in the laundry room. She just about missed the kitchen, swerving so hard she thought she might have given herself whiplash as she turned.

There was a crowd of Octavinelle students, dressed in their crisp lilac and black uniforms, standing in a rough circle, looking at something on the floor. She just caught the end of a flailing green tail as a student reached down to touch the wiggling mass.

“Don’t!” She yelled, causing the whole ensemble to jump. She steadied herself with her hands on her thighs, breathing heavily now that the adrenaline had caught up with her. “Don’t,” She said again. “They might be contagious.”

The gathering flinched away as (Y/N) made her way to what they had been surrounding. There was the familiar sight of the squirming Azul, cheeks puffy with a pout and crossed chubby arms. His tentacles were all tangled up with two long string-bean eels, fluctuating their bodies like ribbons on the linoleum floor. Even as children, mirror opposites of each other, it was pretty easy to tell who was who from their actions. Floyd has wrapped himself around one of Azul’s many limbs, gnawing at one. Jade is also wrapped in his tentacles, but it looks like he draped them over himself. He chatted at Azul in a mixture of child-babble and what sounds like local mer dialect. (Y/N) squatted down, hand covering her mouth, as she contemplated the situation. Azul spotted her, raising his arms up and looking at her in a way that made her heart clench. Floyd and Jade matched his pose, their cries more delighted and excited than Azul’s worried ones.

“Alright, come here,” (Y/N) said, gathering the trio of slippery mer-babies in her arms. “I don’t suppose you guys have a tank around here somewhere? And maybe a trolley or wagon?”

The, still confused but helpful, students rushed around. After a few minutes, two of them carried a large fish tank between them, another pulling a small black flatbed cart behind them. (Y/N) loaded the kids into the tank, having to tug and pull to extract them from their tight grip on her, Azul leaving little circular suction marks on her hands and arms. With a hand on her hip, she pulled the faucet from the sink and filled up the tank.

She gave her number to a couple of third years who had stepped up in a semblance of a leadership role, telling them to text her if anyone else came down with symptoms. After reassuring the Octavinelle students, as much as she could considering she herself was trying not to panic, (Y/N) pulled her new load out through the mirror portal to the gym.

She felt a splash of water on the back of her head, turning to see the three of them ducking back down into the water, giggling mischievously. “Uh-huh,” (Y/N) said, wiggling her fingers at them. “I see you.” No sooner had she turned back to start walking than another cold splash of water soaked her head. She whipped back around, jumping near the tank with a big smile and hands up in claws, much to the shrieking delight of the small children. Even Azul had started to smile, laughing along and swimming around with Floyd and Jade.

(Y/N) saw Ortho flying across campus, a thick dark blue bundle securely in his arms. A Premo branded canvas back was slung over his arm, packed with board and card games, and a few gaming systems and cartridges. She called his name and waved, Ortho stopping to wait for her to catch up.

“Let me see, let me see,” (Y/N) said. Ortho was just as giddy as he held up the small toddler. Even when he was young, Idia still had his long fiery blue hair. His bright yellow eyes were huge in his puggy face, cheeks looking like he was hiding giant marshmallows in his mouth. He blinked up at the two of them, face scrunching up before sneezing. His hair flared for a second before sighing and rubbing his face. (Y/N) and Ortho both ‘aww’ed as Idia tried to hide by burying his face in Ortho’s glowing chest.

“Think you can take care of these guys, too?” (Y/N) asked. “I still need to check on Disomania. I’ve tried texting but haven’t heard anything back from them.” Ortho saulted, taking hold of the flatbed handle. The three tiny mers splashed, trying to catch the glowing reflections of Ortho’s and Idia’s hair on the water.

(Y/N) had to run interference back on her way to the mirror chamber for the umteenth time that day. By that point, most of the campus had heard about the magical virus, and the rather adorable symptoms. She reassured them that yes, they had everything under control. Yes, they were keeping track of who was affected. Yes, classes were canceled for the rest of the day. Yes, it was all going to be solved pretty soon. Probably.

She paused back in the mirror chamber, taking a second to catch her breath. Steadying herself for whatever trouble she would find in the Thorn Fairy’s dorm, she pushed through the Magic Mirror. She blinked in the diminished light, the sky perpetually covered by threatening storm clouds. The dorm loomed over her, reminiscent of some twisted gothic cathedral. The interior did nothing to diminish this facade, all marble floors, large arched windows, and dark stone walls with green fire sconces.

“Psst!” (Y/N) stopped in the strangely empty common room, looking around for the hissed whisper. “Psst! Prefect! Over here!” A first year was frantically waving to her from his hiding behind a massive tapestry. Now that she was paying closer attention, she was able to pick out more and more students, trying to dart between hiding places to make their way through their own home.

“What’s going on?” (Y/N) asked. “Did you guys hear about the virus?”

“Virus?” He repeated. “No, I just wanted to warn you that you need to be careful. Vice-Housewarden Lilia is - Ack!” He cut himself off, darting off and slamming a door behind him down the hall as he escaped.

Brow furrowed, (Y/N) turned, freezing just as a cold razor sharp edge met her throat. Her eyes traveled from the jade colored oversized cleaver down the arm that held it up effortlessly, to the familiar yet strange face of the person who held it. It certainly looked like Lilia, for the most part anyway. The same large ruby eyes, now narrowed and sharp, the same mouth with fangs peaking over the edge to bite into his lower lip, pulled into a frown, the same bi-colored hair, now much longer and a deep red pigmentation instead of the soft pink.

(Y/N) put her hands up and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “Lilia,” She said, willing her voice not to shake. “I know you’re probably confused right now, but I-”

“Quite, human,” He snapped, to which (Y/N) immediately obliged. “You’re not going to try and confuse me more than I already am.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. But, and this may surprise you, this is not the first, nor probably the last, time I’ve been in mortal peril, so the effect has kind of lost its edge. Present company notwithstanding.” She pushed away the massive weapons with one finger on its slicing edge.

Lilia scowled and pushed the magearm back. “I said quite. I need to think. One minute I’m in the Briar Valley overseeing training and the next I’m… wherever this is.”

“Night Raven College, if that helps.”

Lilia scoffed. “I told you all I wouldn’t accept your enrollment invitation. Does such a ‘prestigious’ school resort to kidnapping now?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them, really.”

“Listen here, human-”

“Papa!”

Both of their eyes snapped down. A small boy with silver-white hair was tugging the hem of Lilia’s shirt, rubbing his eyes with a tiny fist. He reached up, grabbing at the air. “Up, up!”

Lilia looked from the small Silver back to (Y/N) several times before renewing his scowl. “What is this? Some kind of human trick? You use children in your schemes now?”

“I think he just wants you to hold him for his nap.”

“Listen you-”

“Papa?” They both looked down again, Silver’s arms still extended, waiting. His tiny, cherubic face has started to crumble, lips wobbling in confusion, tears gathering.

Lilia hissed in a sudden breath. Taking a step back, he leaned down, keeping his eyes and weapon trained on (Y/N), and scooped Silver up with one arm. He cradled the boy close to his chest. Silver sighed contently, wrapping his chubby arms around Lilia’s neck and snuggling into his chest.

“I-” Lilia started, trying to regain some of his bravado despite the napping toddler he was gently holding.

“Silver!” A boisterous voice echoed down the stairs. “Where’d you go? We gotta keep training so we can defend the Briar Valley! I’m gonna win this time, just watch!” He tripped down the last few stepped, falling hard on his knees.

“Sebek!” (Y/N) called, taking a step to him before being cut short by Lilia rushing forward.

Sebek sniffed loudly, pushing himself up, face turning red at the effort of keeping his tears at bay.

“There now, soldier,” Lilia said, kneeling down. “A warrior of the Briar Valley must keep his composure in the face of battle, yes?”

Sebek looked up and gasped. He jumped up to attention, retrieving the fallen play sword he had dropped. “Yes, sir, General Lilia, sir!” He said, saluting.

Lilia chuckled, ruffeling Sebek’s hair. “By any chance, young one, you’re not related to Baur Zigvolt, are you?”

“Is Grandpa here? I’m gonna show him how strong I got! Look, look!” He exaggerated flexing. Noticing Silver fast asleep, he frowned, an impressively frustrated look for such a small boy. “Silver! You’re sleeping again!”

“Nooo,” Silver whined, burying himself further in Lilia’s chest.

Sebek kept jumping up to tug on Silver’s shirt until Lilia set him down. Sebek immediately grabbed the still sleepy boy’s hand and dragged him away, waving his sword at the various still hiding Disamonia residents and talking about all the adventures they were going to have. Lilia watched them wreak havoc, a small content smile making its way on his face without his noticing.

He schooled his features back into stoney fury when (Y/N) sidled up next to him, clearing her throat. “So, I bet you have some questions.”

While Lilia was skeptical about (Y/N)’s explanation, he was more acceptable to going to a more secure location. They went to the gym, Lilia holding Silver’s hand in one of his, his large magearm slug over his other shoulder. Sebek kept watch in front of the group, jumping and swinging his sword and marching while promising to protect them and become a great knight. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the campus in warm gold and pink light, stretching shadows along the pathways.

(Y/N) pushed open the doors of the gym, the clatter and cacophony of excited children immediately pouring out. Ortho was playing some high energy kind of children’s music from his built-in speakers, flashing colorful lights to the beat. Jamil and Cater were dancing, holding hands and spinning around and around until they got so dizzy they collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Idia was sitting in front of the water tank, a board game laid out in front of him. Azul had his face pressed closed to the glass, pointing to indicate his moves for the game. Frustrated at a move Idia, who smirked triumphantly, made, one of Azul’s tentacles shot out of the tank to aggressively move his piece, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied smirk.

On the other side of the tank, Riddle and Trey were throwing a ball between each other then into the tank where Floyd would whack it with his long tail sending it carrining back out of the water. The two other boys would squeal and run around, trying to catch the ball and smack it back up before it touched the ground.

Jack was sitting with his back against the tank, a large seek-and-find picture book open on his lap. Jade was leaning half way out of the tank, occasionally dipping back down to look over Jack’s shoulder. Jack would lift the book up for Jade to get a better look at and they both would point out the various hidden objects.

Vil was sitting on his knees, braiding Leona’s hair. Leona’s tail twitch. He snapped his teeth at Vil’s hands. “Stop!” Vil said, commanding even as a child. Leona nipped again, half-heartedly. Vil huffed, fists on his hips. “Stop!” Leona rolled his eyes, yawned loudly, then rolled over, letting Vil continue unbothered.

Rook, Kalim, Ruggie, Epel, Ace, and Deuce were all involved in an intense game of freeze tag, supervised by Vargus. Seeing the newcomers, Ace cheated and broke his freeze by running over to them, grabbing Sebek and Silver’s hands and pulling them into the game. Sebek yelled in protest but made no attempt to avoid joining. Silver waved goodbye to Lilia before tagging Epel back into the game.

Sam and Trien were at a makeshift cooking station, a couple of portable food warmers under disposable aluminum foil trays, dividing up dinner of spaghetti, garlic bread, and a thrown together salad to try and pretend they were being healthy. This idea was quickly dismissed as Sam took off the cover of a tray of thick fudgy brownies. Kitten Grim would jump on the table and try to shove his face into the trays to get an early bite, only to be gently pushed off, where the process would repeat almost immediately. Crewel was rolling out mats and sleeping bags in another corner of the gym, rolling his eyes at Crowley who was giving some dramatic speech.

“This…” Lilia started. “Isn’t exactly what I imagine Night Raven College to be like.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said. “Usually things are more on fire.” She couldn’t help but smile at Lila’s baffled expression.

She started counting heads, rounding up each dorm as the children all gathered together to get their dinner. She frowned, her suspicions confirmed.

“We’re missing one.”

“Hmm?” Crowly said. “I can’t think of anyone else.”

“Yeah, that tracks. Sit tight, I think I know where he is.”

A wind has started to blow across campus, twirling fallen leaves and casting a chill across (Y/N)’s exposed skin. Soon, the gloomy facade of Ramshackle dorm loomed on top of the hill. She opened the old iron gate, scanning around the yard. And there, just like she knew he would be, was a young boy with black horns.

He was staring up at the eaves and roof of the old house. To anyone else, it would have looked like he was watching the appearing stars in the sky, tracking constellations. But (Y/N) knew better, matching his gaze to the various gargoyles arranged around the dorm. She ducked inside, grabbing a quilt from one of the couches in the sitting room. She draped the blanket over his shoulders, crouching down next to him. He didn’t look away, only moving to clutch the quilt tighter over his slight frame.

“They’re pretty cool, right?” (Y/N) said.

“I like that one,” Malleus says, pointing to a gargoyle on the corner of the roof, crouched like a frog with stone wings forming an umbrella over his head, mouth open in a ghoulish grin.

“I call him Clyde. He doesn't really work anymore though.”

“Oh,” Malleus said, disappointed.

“Robins build their nest in his mouth. A friend of mine helped me block off the drain pipe so the birds wouldn’t get flushed out without hurting the statue. He really likes gargoyles, but we both thought the sacrifice was worth it.”

“Oh,” Malleus said again, more intrigued. “Are there babies?”

“Yup. They’re all bald with big eyes and their mama will swoop at your face if you get too close.” She replicated the swooping motion with her hand, ending with a boop on Malleus’s nose.

Giggling, Malleus points to another beastial gargoyle. “What about that one?”

“That’s Fredrick, but we call him Freddie. See how he’s facing that other one on the other roof? She’s Isabella and they’re hopelessly in love. A little while ago, they had a fight and Isabella turned around. Which was kind of a problem because then all the water she was draining away went right into the second floor bathroom. It was a really cold shower.” She exaggerated shivering, rubbing up and down her arms.

She continued pointing out the various sculptures around Ramshackle dorm, retelling Malleus all the stories and facts the older version of him had told her what seemed ages ago. The child Malleus would occasionally cut in with facts about gargoyle construction or history, enthusiastic to be sharing his precious information with a fellow gargoyle appreciator.

“You know,” (Y/N) said, the two of them sitting on the lawn, fireflies gently floating around them. “I met a gargoyle that could talk once.”

He gasped, jolting up on his knees. “Really? Where, where? What did it say?”

“Well, we were kind of in the middle of something important when we first met. But after we got all of that sorted he was really nice! He lived in a big bell tower that looked over the whole city and told us all about his friends who lived there. He had one friend who was really sad, and being sad made him angry. But the gargoyle helped us understand what his friend was feeling and helped us make everything better. And now we’re all friends! I think so, anyway. Not sure if Rollo would agree if I asked him…” She trailed off, speaking the last part mostly to herself.

Malleus sat back down. “I don’t have many friends,” He said in a small voice. “The palace is really big and there’s not a lot of people in it. Do you think he’d be my friend too?”

Imagining the scowl Rollo would probably give her for her answer, (Y/N) smiled and said, “Absolutely. I can be your friend, too, if you want.”

“Really?”

“It’s a promise. And I know some other people who would want to be your friend, too. They’re with Lilia in-”

“Lilia is here?” Malleus jumped up, eyes wide and smiling. “Where, where? Did he go traveling again? Did he bring me back a present? He brings me flags from all the places he’s been! They’re called, uh, they’re called…” He frowned, thinking hard.

“Pennants?”

“Yes, pennants!”

“Well, I don’t know, but he’s at a party right now and wanted me to come get you.” She could practically see the stars in his eyes as he hopped up and down. She stood, holding out her hand. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her down the road. “Come on, come on! It’s rude to be late when you’re invited somewhere!”

She laughed at his eagerness, despite not knowing exactly where he was going. Suddenly, she felt her skin prickle, like she had just been hit with a blast of cold air without the actual temperature change. “Hornton, I mean, Malleus, what-” Before she could say another word, they both were encased by a shimmering yellow-green light, vanishing and reappearing several feet down the road. (Y/N) felt a wave of vertigo at the sudden teleportation, not extremely dissimilar from when she went through the mirror portal for the first time.

After a few more overly excited teleportations, and (Y/N) gently redirecting them back in the right direction a few times, the duo arrived back to the gym. Malleus was hopping up and down in anticipation, but froze when she pushed open the door. His wide eyes darted around to each group playing.

“What’s wrong?” (Y/N) asked, kneeling down to him.

“What if they don’t like me?” He said in a small voice. (Y/N) felt her heart break a little. “What if they’re scared of me?” Okay, now her heart was fully broken.

She turned him so they were face to face, taking his hands in hers. “Malleus, it’s okay to feel nervous. A lot of new things can seem pretty scary at first. I know I was really scared when I first came here. But you know what? The people I met here are my best friends in the entire world. They can be prickly and stubborn and rough around the edges. But they’re also brave and generous and kind, even if they won’t admit it out loud. You’ll never find a better group of people to go through a storm with.”

Malleus squeezed her hands back, setting his face with determination and nodded once.

“There’s my brave prince. Come on, I know just who to introduce you to.”

The bed area that Crewel had so deliberately laid out earlier had been torn up. Blankets and pillows were stacked high in two barriers facing each other across the gym. The tiny pillow fort soldiers raced behind their barricades in oversized t-shirts and sweatpants as improved pajamas.

“Hey, there,” (Y/N) said, stopping Kalim running by with a touch on his shoulder. “Now what kind trouble did you all get into while I was gone?”

“We’re having a pillow fight!” Kalim said, clutching a bright blue seat cushion to his chest.

“It’s a war!” Epel yelled from his side of the barricade.

“Floyd threw a ball at Azul and Idia’s game and Idia’s hair went all ‘whoosh!’ and that woke up Leona so Leona stole the ball and popped it, and then Riddle got mad and tried to do his collar anti-magic magic on him but he missed at hit Vil and that made Rook sad so he tried to pull the collar off but it wouldn’t work, so then Jack tried to pull it off cause Jack’s much more stronger but it wouldn’t work and he let go too fast and he hit Sebek, so now we’re all at war!” Kalim said all in one breath.

“It’s not a war!” Epel yelled, waving two pillows in the air. “It’s a massa- a messacu- a massecure - you’re gonna lose!”

Pillows and balled up blankets started flying like snowballs. As the puffy projectiles flew, one veered off course, smacking right into Malleus’s stary-eyed face.

Everyone froze. The pillow seemed to be stuck to Malleus’s face for a few comical seconds before dropping, revealing his blank expression. A slow, eerie smile stretched across his chubby child face.

“Ah, so this is how other people play, is it?” He said. He started to hover several inches off the ground, discarded pillows rising up around him, surrounded by a holographic green light. (Y/N) could have sworn the lights started to flicker. “Then, let’s continue with the game!”

Levitating pillows flew through the air, zipping around like homing missiles. The children shrieked and laughed as they dove for cover or tried to swat away the projectiles with their own pillow weapons. Ace dove in front of Deuce to block and attack, Deuce dramatically falling to his knees to hold Ace’s overdramatically ‘dead’ body after. Jamil stood in front of Kalim, wielding two pillows like nunchucks to bat away incoming pillows. Kalim just jumped up and down, clapping his hands in joy, not noticing Jamil rolling his eyes. Ruggie was taking advantage of the bedlam to sneak past the teen chaperones, who weren’t doing so much chaperoning as taking bets as they watched. Ruggie pulled down the tray of brownies, snickering as he darted off to enjoy his spoils. Azul was at the top of the tank, head whipping back and forth to follow the attacks. Rook threw a pillow at him, smacking the octopus mer before it got waterlogged and sunk in the tank. Azul’s face started to crumble and he sniffed, holding back budding tears. Floyd and Jade zipped to the side of the tank, rearing up and spitting out two streams of water. Rook cried out at suddenly getting wet, running in circles. Idia had climbed up on Ortho’s shoulders, who was flying above the fluffy carnage.

Leona jumped up, grabbing a pillow midair, sinking his teeth into it and shaking until stuffing started to pop out. He spit it out, holding his own pillow aloft as he pointed at Malleus with all the authority and bravado of a decorated general on the battlefield.

“Charge!” He yelled.

“I’ll protect you, my liege!” Sebek shouted, he and Silver jumping in front of Malleus, one pillow held out like a shield and another above their heads like a squishy square sword.

(Y/N) picked up kitten Grim, scratching under his chin as he purred. She sat crossed legged next to the professors and Lilia. “So, I think it’s going pretty well so far.”

Lilia was staring at Malleus, who cackled in delight at the retaliation. “He…”

(Y/N) nudged him with her elbow. “He looks just like his mom, huh?”

“His-?!” He relaxed, smiling fondly. “Yes, he does.”

After the battle, which would be spoken about in legends for generations to come, finally petered out, (Y/N) started gathering the exhausted children to the bathroom to brush their teeth. Trey darted between sinks, double checking that everyone was flossing as well. Back out in the gym, they all climbed into their makeshift beds, snuggling down and yawing wide.

“Wait!” Deuce called out as (Y/N) stood up.

She knelt back down next to him. “Yeah? What’s up, bud?”

Suddenly bashful, Deuce crumpled his blanket in his hands. “I, um, I need a good night kiss! My mom always gives me a good night kiss and makes sure I’m all tucked in so the monsters can’t get me!”

“Hey!” Ace said, jumping up. “I want a kiss, too! Cause of the monsters, nothing else!”

Soon, all the kids were back wide awake, clamoring for attention and kisses.

“Down, down!” Crewel shouted. He sighed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re all like overexcited puppies.”

(Y/N) laughed as the kids grumbled back to their beds.”Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no monsters get anywhere near you.” She knelt down, kissing the top of Deuce’s head. Deuce blushed, diving under his blankets, pulling them tight over his head. Ace huffed, crossing his arms in the pinnacle of frustration. (Y/N) kissed the top of his head too, and he turned red, hiding his face in his pillow.

(Y/N) made her rounds, saying good night to everyone individually, giving them a kiss on the head or cheek. Some were excited, Cater, Ruggie, Kalim, and Floyd, while others were more bashful, Riddle, Azul, Idia, Epel, and Sebek. When she kissed Rook’s forehead, he jumped up, saying, “Plus! Plus!” She peppered his chubby cheeked face with more kisses as he giggled victoriously. Silver was already asleep, curled up on Lilia’s lap, but sighed happily as she pressed a kiss to his temple.

“What a strange human ritual,” Lilia said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I… I suppose I should participate as well, shouldn’t I?”

(Y/N) laughed. “Of course, general,” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. He stiffened and turned his head to hide his blush.

“Leona?” She asked, kneeling next to the lion prince’s bed. “Do you want a good night kiss, too?”

“Hmph,” He said. “I don’t need it. I’m too big for that baby stuff.”

“If he’s giving up his share,” Malleus said, tugging on (Y/N)’s arm. “I’ll gladly take it instead.”

Leona threw himself across (Y/N)’s lap. “No! You can’t give the lizard more than you give me! (Y/N)’s mine!” He tried to roar, which sounded more like an angry wet cat than the king of the jungle.

They each grabbed one of her arms, tugging viciously. “Okay, okay! Don’t worry! You both can get as many good night kisses as you want.”

“Me first!” Malleus said.

“No, me first!” Leona countered.

“Easy, boys, no need to fight.” She took their hands, putting them together palms facing her, then kissed them both. Leona’s ears flicked up and back, tail whipping around, forcing himself to look indifferent despite how much he obviously cared. Malleus just beamed. She kissed each of their foreheads and tucked them back into bed.

Finally, with everyone satisfied with their kisses and tucked in, (Y/N) turned off the lights in the gym, leaving one on in the far corner to act as a night light. She scooped up Grim, cradling him in her arms, and slipped into her own bed.”Good night, everyone.”

There was a sleepy chorus of “Good night,” before silence filled the air, interrupted only by soft snores. Cuddling Grim close, (Y/N) closed her eyes and let all the exhaustion of the day drag her down into sleep.

(Y/N) was woken abruptly the next morning by a pillow being thrown in her face. She let out an “Ouf” as Grim, now full sized again, jumped out from her hold and off her stomach to escape getting hit. She sat up quickly, just in time to catch another pillow being thrown.

“I said get off me!” Jamil said, shoving a confused and bleary eyed Ruggie off from on top of him.

“Why am I soaked?” Azul said, wringing out his shirt as a pool of water formed around his, Jade, and Floyd’s feet, the water tank overturned next to them.

Around the gym, everyone had reverted back to their normal ages, untangling themselves from their flat beds and trying to recollect the events that led them there. The professors had also reverted to their previous size, spilling out of their own beds they had quickly outgrown.

“I guess none of you remember what happened yesterday?” (Y/N) said.

Jack rubbed his temples. “Something about a virus? I think? And…” He trailed off, looking over at Azul and lowering his voice. “Why do I want to call Azul cute?”

“Ack!” Cater yelled in surprise. “Why is my phone all sticky?!”

“Forget your phone!” Grim said. “Why are there ink stains on my beautiful fur?!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” (Y/N) said, standing with a mischievous smile. She pulled out her phone, opening up the photos app. “I took a very detailed record of everything.”

2K notes · View notes

bakug0uzb1thc · 3 months ago

Text

First time calling him Katsuki.

Paring: Katsuki Bakugou x GN! Reader

Summary: after finals all Katsuki wants to do is cuddle.

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When you first got with Bakugou you thought he wasn’t the cuddling type. You thought he hated affection and anything on the lines of it. Oh did he prove you wrong.

It was a Saturday afternoon and the dorms were far from quiet. Finals had just finished and everyone was having a day to just relax and unwind from the chaotic week.

While you and some of the 1-A girls were hanging out it clicked in your head that your hot-headed boyfriend wasn’t in the commons.

“Hey has anyone seen Bakugou?” You inquired your peers in hopes they’d have some sort of clue on where he could be.

“Nah, I think he’s still in his room” Kirishima peaked over the couch as you walked around still darting your eyes around.

“Hm.. okay..” you trailed off making the decision that you would check his room. Sure enough, when you knocked on his door you could hear a faint grumble.

“What do you- oh hey..” he opened the door with force unknown to the fact it was you at the door.

“Hey I was just wondering where you were” You gave him a soft smile, watching as he looked down to your lips and back up to your eyes. This move going unnoticed by you.

“Whatever.” He scoffed and grabbed your hand hurrying you into his room.

Once he closed the door you noticed his room a bit unorganized which seemed very unlike him, but before you could make any sense of this he picked you up and laid you on his bed with a slight thump. Which was continued by all his body weight against you.

“Baku-gou…” you said in a breathy tone as his weight crushed you.

“Don’t call me that.” He sneered into your chest.

“Huh?” You said not knowing what you should do in this situation.

“Don’t call me that..” he said again in a deeper tone.

“What should I call you then?” You mentally laughed at the question you were asking him.

“My name.” He said, like it was even a question.

“Katsuki?” You said in a soft tone which made him burry his face more and more into your chest.

It made your face warm up but at that point it wasn’t what you were thinking about. It was how he had his arms wrapped around you, not in a possessive way. His hold on you was sweet and caring. Something you weren’t expecting from him.

You knew he liked you, but you weren’t sure if he loved you.

You returned his embrace and hugged him back, if not tighter. Katsuki wasn’t very affectionate so him voluntarily cuddling you made you wanna eat every part of this up.

He sighed, feeling almost relieved at your touch. He didn’t quite grasp how stressful the past week had been until he was in your arms. He didn’t have to do anything besides hug you back. Finally, he could relax.

That day you found out that Katsuki and Bakugou were two different people. Katsuki was soft, caring and affectionate in a silent way and Bakugou was a hot head who was extremely opinionated. Though it seemed he had two alter-egos, he was still your boyfriend that you cared deeply for. Even loved.

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salem-s · 3 months ago

Text

01 ─ PLAYING THE PART UNDER THE SICILIAN SUN (18+) ── RAFE CAMERON

SYNOPSIS when your image-obsessed mother catches you and Rafe Cameron ─ your friends with benefits ─ in a compromising situation, you must lie and say you're dating. It spirals out of control when your mother invites him to your cousin's upcoming wedding in Italy, and spirals even further when he says yes. SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

WARNINGS suggestive themes, nudity, swearing, graphic imagery.

WORD COUNT 5.9k. Yikes.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER forget it by blood orange

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, so here.”

You gather each item of clothing he sporadically scattered across the room earlier, bunching it in your arms and hissing as his belt loop harshly knocks against your elbow. You plop the pile on his belly as Rafe lounges lazily, one arm resting under his head and the other skimming over his bare torso.

The act neglects to faze him as he simply watches you, the thin grey sheets bunch up dangerously low around his hips as the clothes sit – with no intention of going back on his body anytime soon – idly in his lap.

If anything, his eyes do all the talking: come back to bed. Now.

Pushing the wordless message to the back of your mind, you notice that he makes no effort to move, instead his eyes scanning up and down your nude body.

You scoff at his sloth. “No, by all means, take your time.”

He hums teasingly at the attempt to act tough. “You don’t want me to join you, baby?”

Rafe’s nimble fingers reach out to grab you by the waist, his sweet talk stirring something scandalous in your tummy. But you swerve his touch, knowing you'll undoubtedly give in if he gets his hands on you, and you have too much to do today to even contemplate going back to bed with him right now.

“Nuh-uh, Cameron,” you warn seriously, waving a finger at him, trying not to grin at his ridiculous pout. He looks too comfortable on your bed, like he was made to lay there. “I need to have an everything shower.”

“And I should care because..?”

You roll your eyes, as if it’s obvious. “My everything shower time is me time. It’s forty five minutes of work. I’m sweating. I’m cleaning. I’m shaving. You don’t need to see all of that. I don’t want you to see all of that,” you say sternly.

Instead of seceding, Rafe scoffs in utter disbelief. It’s almost mean.

He sits up in bed, clothes bunching on his lap.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ll let me see your gaping asshole, but you won’t let me see you shave?”

You and Rafe have this mutual agreement where you sleep together when it’s convenient, or when someone’s bored, or after a night of drinking and smoking and one wants to lay around and have a little fun. It’s simple, no strings attached or added complications, because neither you nor Rafe have the emotional or physical capacities to even consider being in a romantic relationship in this day and age.

At least that’s what you repeat in your head over and over again, reiterating the mantra more than you do your own class notes.

But that's besides the point.

Towards the end of freshmen year, your separate friend groups collided after a risky run in with campus police. The experience undoubtedly brought you all closer to the point where, by the end of the year, everyone was already planning shenanigans to get up to at the start of sophomore year, and it just snowballed from there.

Your friendship with Rafe, however, started rocky. The two of you liked to quip and jab at each other – often at the expense of the other. It was more teasing on Rafe’s side and defense on yours, because a favorite past time of yours is putting cocky men in their place when they try to act up around you. And if Rafe is good at one thing, it’s being overly confident in every situation he manages to squeeze himself into.

Months of tennis-match-bickering back and forth led to one night where Rafe accidentally found you walking back to your dorm in a state of hysteria after you got love-bombed by your three-peat situationship – a nice boy named Jeremy who simply wanted to take the next step – muttering to yourself incredulously. After making sure you literally weren't in a state of psychosis, Rafe had shrugged off his jean jacket (which wasn't very warm) to give to you and walked with you.

You had lamented on why people couldn’t just take casual sex literally, how it’s impossible to find someone who understands the meaning of casual. In his oh-so-well-mannered nature, Rafe was eager to agree on this case and point, how relationships never work in college anyway, that it’s impossible to have fun these days without the other person ruining it by expecting more.

One thing led to another and you both created the agreement: casual sex. Friends who constantly bicker who also happen to have sex. Two people who hook up when it’s convenient with no emotional repercussions whatsoever. The idea seemed much easier since you and him are neighbors in the dorm, his room being ten feet to the right where you share a concrete wall.

While it solves the walk of shame problem, it augments the issue of when Rafe brings other partners over and the noise gets a little extreme. You often wonder if he can hear whenever you bring someone else, and a small part of you hopes so, because the girls he brings home are genuinely so fucking annoying.

(Because it doesn’t really help when Rafe’s the best lay of your sexual career. Not that you'll ever have the gall to admit that to him.)

You bark out an unattractive laugh at his crudeness, and ignore the flip of your heartbeat when Rafe grins cockily at the noise. Taking a towel out from the drawer, you wrap it around your body and spin around to face him, still unmoving with no sense of urgency or implication that he’s leaving anytime soon.

“You’re loitering. Go back to your room.”

Rafe tilts his head to the side, almost inviting the confrontation. “You know I can eventually fuck a yes out of you, right?”

Duh, you think. You're well aware of the effect his body has on yours even if your mind keeps telling you no, it’s nothing more than sex and it never will be.

However, he takes your silence as contemplation, a lazy smirk etching his lips.

“Sweet girl,” Rafe drones out, his saccharine tone taking a slight warning as if to say make up your mind.

But no, you're not falling for that stupidly endearing pet name that regretfully makes your mind turn to mush. “Nice try. Get dressed.”

“Can you help me? I forgot how.”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to respond but three harsh knocks at the door interrupt your thoughts. And thank god, because you aren't sure how to respond to his incessant flirting without eventually giving in, since his relentless attempts at a round two, three, four are usually successful.

Despite the interruption, you stand confused, eyes darting to the mini clock on the nightstand showing the time.

“Fuck’s sake. Marianne's early, we aren’t supposed to leave until ten.” You dart your gaze from the time to the man in bed, watching you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Jesus. Will you get dressed?”

Rafe doesn’t move, instead he stretches his arms up and you have to tear your gaze away. “Will you tell Mare to give us, uhhh, like, ten minutes?”

“You’re insufferable,” you huff, clutching the towel tighter as you move towards the door to look in the peephole. “I’ll have you know that I–”

You freeze when you look in the peephole, hand hovering over the doorknob. Heart dropping to your feet, you suck in a harsh breath as if the wind is knocked out of your chest, already feeling its beat thumping against your rib cage a mile a minute.

It’s not Marianne behind the door.

It’s your mother.

Your mother who you've been ghosting for the past month.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.

“Know what, baby?” Rafe eggs on lazily, unbeknownst to the shit show that just began.

His voice thrusts you back to reality, stumbling back a few steps as you suck in another harsh breath, mind racing at the premature anxiety induced encounter that’s about to happen.

Your mind reels: your overly pretentious and spectacle-driven mother is behind that piece of wood. Rafe is still naked on the bed. Your mother’s been hounding you about several issues for weeks now that you've pushed to the back of your to-do list. You doesn’t have any clothes on and–

Oh, god, neither does Rafe.

You spin around as three more knocks make you jump out of your skin, locking eyes with him as you gesture to his clothes urgently.

“You need to leave.”

The complete 180 in behavior makes Rafe furrow his brows. “Wh–?”

You run over to him, grabbing his shirt and forcefully shoving it over his head and messing up his already tousled hair. “I’m not fucking around. Get dressed. Now,” you hiss stern-fully, ignoring his confused gaze because it just increasingly pisses you off more.

“Mare will live if she sees a sliver of skin,” he begins to defend, grabbing at your waist like a toddler and frowning when you swat him off.

“Yeah, well, it’s not Marianne at the door, it’s my fucking mom. So. Get. Dressed. Now.”

Rafe has the audacity to laugh in your face.

It only makes your stomach bubble in anxiety as you huff and throw the sheet off of his legs, messily pushing his legs through the holes of his boxers and jeans to urgently usher him to do what you're asking of him. Again, he makes absolutely no effort to move, instead watching you with an amused look.

“Why are you panicking?” he asks nonchalantly as if the whole situation isn’t an anxiety attack waiting to happen. “I’m great with parents.”

“No,” you immediately warn.

“I’m, like, the parent-whisperer.”

You continue to try (and fail) at dressing him. “Not while you’re my fuck buddy. She cannot know about this.” Your head whips back and forth between the door and the boy lazily lounging, chest heaving.

It’s infuriating how relaxed he is. Rafe reaches up and pushes some hair out of your face as three more knocks break the sound barrier. “Well, baby, I’m already here.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, pressing the heels of your palm to your forehead. “Fuck. I’m not screwing around, Rafe. Get dressed.” Then, pathetically, you add, “Please.”

Three more knocks, more like pounds, snap you out of your millisecond pity party. Stepping away from Rafe, you exhale shakily and push back the same strand of hair he attempted to brush away. Your brows furrow in thought, eyes trained on the ground as you calculate your plan of attack as a silence falls between you both.

Rafe manages to stand, pulling his jeans up the rest of the way and buckling his belt. The whole time he’s obeying your command he’s frowning, unable to discern if he’s frowning at the fact that you're so worked up over a parent (or how you used his real name) or how he’s actually listening to you.

“Okay,” you say sternly after a moment, mind made up as you slowly walk towards the door with your eyes trained on him. “You’re gay.”

“What?”

“It’s the only explanation that won’t get me viscerally berated. That, or you pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“You’d rather me be gay than be your boyfriend?”

You laugh humorlessly and it makes him frown deeper. The way you don't elaborate – nor stop laughing – makes his irritation bubble out of thin air, hands clenching at his fists at the fact that you think it’s so funny for the latter to be true, as if he could never provide that for you, as if the concept is a fantasy.

But the laugh dissipates as quickly as it came, your hand ghosting over the doorknob as you point to him with a shaky finger. “Don’t play.”

Then, you open the door a crack to reveal your mother.

Paulette is the living, breathing epitome of a trophy-wife-turned-emotionless-mother. Whatever concept a PTO mom has, it’s Paulette in a nutshell.

She drips heavily in subtle designer that, undoubtedly, looks flawless and effortless, but unfathomably performative as it simply flashes people on how much money she likes to flaunt. She donates to various charities but not without announcing the act with the specific amount coat-tailed to the sob story. She likes to doll you up into her perfect mold model child, while viscerally berating you behind the curtain and nitpicking all of the things you do wrong. She likes to make fun of your style and independence and blame it on the lack of male attention in your life.

Long story short? The two of you don’t get along.

Paulette curtly says your name in greeting and it’s hardly friendly. “I’ve been standing here for ages.”

You put your body in the small crack of the door frame, doing your best to shield your mother from seeing Rafe.

“Hi. This couldn’t have been a phone call?” you ask hurriedly, sheepishly, cheeks already flaming at the periculousness of the situation.

Paulette narrows her gaze like a hawk. “Apparently not. You haven’t answered a single one of my calls.” Then, she sighs as if being here is an inconvenience. “I’m done standing here, angel. It reeks of skunk. Let me in. We need to talk.”

“But–”

“Enough,” she snaps, not giving you the chance to think before she puts a perfectly manicured hand on the door, pushing it open with such force that it causes you to stumble. “I do everything for you and you can’t even–”

Paulette pauses when she steps into the dorm room, taking in the sight of Rafe, who stands tall and lean at the edge of the bed, thankfully fully dressed.

The silence engulfs the room as the door clicks shut, you clutch your towel with a pained expression etched on your face at the scandalous scene unfolding. Paulette’s stern gaze shifts from Rafe, to the unmade bed, to your basically naked body, and back to Rafe.

You shift uncomfortably after a beat. “Uh, mom, this is–”

“Rafe,” he suddenly introduces himself, flashing Paulette a charming smile that has you frowning in confusion. Since when does he have that kind of smile on the back burner? You nearly roll your eyes when he takes a step forward, politely offering Paulette his hand to shake. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Rafe,” Paulette repeats slowly, as if phonetically sounding it out, "Cameron."

You cough awkwardly at his outstretched hand. “He’s my f–”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

Your blood runs cold as you whip your head around to stare at him. The audacity of him–

But Paulette takes his hand and shakes it firmly, making a small hum of contemplation that has you holding your breath in anticipation, in anxiety. Silence engulfs them once more.

Retracting her polished hand, Paulette studies Rafe with a curious look.

“Boyfriend?” she hums cautiously. You nearly puke. Rafe nods. Your mother says your name again accusatorially. “You didn’t tell me about this.”

Rafe doesn’t falter. Instead, he beams and dials the charm to an eleven. “I asked her a few weeks ago, so it’s pretty new. And private. We haven’t even told some of our friends yet.”

You reel. How is he this calm? How is he making this up on the spot as if it’s been rehearsed? Why does he look so damn happy? Why is your heart in your throat? Can he stop smiling like that? Because it’s making you think that he–

“Weeks?” Paulette shoots you a look. “Is that so?”

You shrink under your mother’s gaze, not trusting words so you simply nod instead.

Paulette huffs at the response, putting her hands on her hips as she glares at you with an incredulous look. “You could’ve saved me the time and patience, if you just told me.” Paulette rubs out a growing migraine.

Your irritation suddenly spikes. The condescending tone in your mother’s voice, the way Rafe’s fake smile slowly starts to fade as he further discovers the dynamic between mother and daughter, the way you're is still standing in your too-short towel– it’s all too much.

“Okay, as much as I love the reunion, what exactly are you doing here?”

Paulette looks at you as if you have two heads. Exasperated, she throws her hands up in a really? gesture, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world for you to be able to read your mother’s mind. You reciprocate the motion sarcastically.

“The wedding?”

You furrow your brows. “Wh– Jessa’s? What about it?”

Paulette then proceeds to ignore you, turning her full attention to Rafe, who’s been watching the entire conversation like a tennis match. “Has she told you about the wedding?”

Rafe’s gaze darts to you, cautiously shaking his head at your widening eyes. “Uh, no.”

You know where this is going, and panic surges to your throat.

You quickly jump to step in between your mother and Rafe.

“He’s not coming!”

The panicked tone startles all three of you, as you blink a few times and then clear your throat. You take a step back to gather yourself at the sudden outburst, but nearly jump as you bump against Rafe’s chest. There’s no escape with him right behind you and your mother right in front of you.

You've never felt more trapped. And underdressed.

Paulette raises her brow in offense at the tone of voice, at her daughter’s manic behavior, almost egging you on to continue embarrassing yourself.

Although you take a deep breath and remember the situation, finding your cool and taking a long, deep breath. That cool almost goes out the window when Rafe takes a particularly deep breath that makes his chest gently graze your back.

“Uh, well, we haven’t talked about it yet," you defend shakily, the tone so unlike your normal demeanor. "But it’s over Thanksgiving, I assume he has plans with his family.”

Then Rafe does the one thing you don't want him to do.

He fucking shrugs and opens his mouth. “I don’t have plans.”

(Actually, he does. But those plans entail trekking the long drive home, enduring a week of arguing with his dad and step-mom about ridiculous shit, drinking with his home-town friends, and spending Thanksgiving with his family where they all either pretend to like each other for one night or fight so violently that the kitchen is covered in thrown food. It’s a plan he’s been dreading, honestly.)

Paulette huffs as you feverishly blink, thinking of all the ways you can kill Rafe before you let this whole ordeal happen. Strangulation, maybe.

Your mother hums your name. “See? This all could’ve been avoided if you asked him and answered the phone.”

“Mom,” you say without thinking, voice threatening to shake with anger, “did you really come all this way to interrogate me about a date?”

Poison could be easiest, you think. It is a woman’s weapon, after all. No one would suspect if he all of a sudden had food poisoning, maybe from the dining hall or from all the food service he greedily orders. Remember when Arya–

“Interrogate is a strong word, angel,” Paulette pffts, almost mockingly. “You were the only one at Mariano’s wedding last summer without a date. Do you know how many excuses I had to make for you?”

You can’t help but scoff. Needle between the toes. “I doubt people really cared about the nuances of my love life.”

A slight ping of pain pokes your heart, knowing deep down that your mother has to hand out excuses for your lack of respect for tradition, never having a good enough suitor to bring home to the family and kickstart a life with, which is an aspect of the women’s lives that seem to matter most to these people.

It makes you want to puke.

“But now I do,” her mother retorts, gesturing to Rafe. “This time, it’ll be far less embarrassing for us.”

Stab wounds. A hundred of them.

All you can do is sigh.

Pushing him off a cliff. Cutting his dick off and leaving him to bleed out in this room. Strapping him to the roof of a car and driving it off a mountain.

As you daydream, Paulette sighs in content and claps her hands. “That settles that. Now, angel, I booked a reservation at the Hilton before Ronaldo drives me back. We need to go over your dress fitting alterations before I go since you’ve neglected to tell me your measurements. They have a good vinaigrette dressing we should try.”

“Sounds delicious,” you deadpan, but her mother either doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm or flat out ignores it. The thought of sitting alone at lunch with your mother settles a kettlebell in your gut. “Let me get dressed quick.”

“Oh, angel. You’re doing your hair and makeup too, right?” Paulette asks, the thought of you walking out in a nice outfit without doing anything to fix up your appearance being downright appalling.

You reel, this type of behavior being nothing new. Instead of snapping, you simply nod and bite her tongue. Silence is better than whatever fight a backhanded comment will cause.

Paulette exhales in relief. “I’ll wait in the car for you, it’s the Mercedes out front.” She turns towards the door then stops, offering Rafe a curt nod. “It’s nice to meet you, Rafe. I’ll see you in Italy.” Then she remembers something. “I hope you have a passport.”

Then with that, she’s out the door, leaving you and Rafe to stand in silence.

Beat.

You feel him behind you, inches away. You don't even know if you can turn around and look at him without grabbing the nearest sharpest object and shoving it in his throat or twisting and pulling his balls off like an apple off a tree.

There’s a reason you told him to avoid the whole boyfriend alias, and this being the reason.

You mother has always been keen on appearances, embracing the rather traditional gender roles in society. The women in your family thrive on the concept of a strong man to provide for his partner, for his family, and you have yet to express favor of that drastically sexist and outdated notion. The thought of pursuing a career, a life outside of relationships, is seen as selfish.

To bring someone home to meet the family means being someone who is sought after, yearned for, loved. It’s an embarrassment to be older than twenty and not introduce a partner, for whatever stupid reason, because most of the women in your family marry young, having taken advantage of their youth and sinking their talons into men who either inherit generational wealth or did the bulk of the schooling to be in the well-off positions they’re in today. Last summer, you showed up to a wedding dateless, and – according to your mother – there’s never been a more embarrassing feat for the familial image.

Once in high school, Paulette paid off a boy in your grade to go out with you for a few months so you'd have a date to her upcoming charity gala. It was your first ever boyfriend, if you can even call him that, so safe to say you have a hard time trusting people – specifically men – when it comes to dating.

Real dating.

Which is something you know Rafe cannot provide.

It doesn’t help that Rafe is a conventionally attractive man – who you have repeatedly pushed down your feelings for – who realistically is a perfect candidate in Paulette’s eyes. He’ll only fuel your mother’s instinct to flaunt her daughter’s ability to reign in someone like him: charming, rich, handsome.

Boy, Paulette will have a field day introducing someone like him to the rest of the family. It makes you want to kill him with a gun.

Breaking you from her violent thoughts, Rafe chuckles nervously behind you. “I feel like you’re mad.”

Understatement of the century there.

You scoff. “Mad? You think I’m mad?”

“Well, yeah–”

You spin around, facing him with a twitch in your eye and a quivering lip. “I’m not mad, Rafe. I’m fucking furious. I’m seconds away from throttling you right now.”

“Whoa,” he says in surprise, throwing his hands up in surrender with wide eyes, “I just did you a favor. I got her off your back.”

Rolling your eyes so hard it kickstarts a migraine, you can’t help but laugh darkly.

“Off my back,” you scoff in disbelief. Then you shake your head and walk over to the dresser, shimmying out of the towel and slipping on underwear. “Off my– You opened the biggest, grossest, evilest can of worms you could even imagine.” You clip on a bra and move towards throwing on a casual dress.

All Rafe can do is watch and attempt to defend himself, teetering between irritation and wanting to joke about the whole ordeal. “Okay, well, you didn’t really give me much of a script to go along with.”

You shimmy on the dress, looking at him incredulously. “Yes, I did!”

“I wasn’t about to play gay!”

You throw your head back, groaning. Slipping on a pair of heels he’s never seen before, your face burns incredibly hot, and it feels like your skin is on fire as his eyes don’t leave your figure.

“You had one job, Cameron. One!”

“No, it’s not–” Rafe huffs in exasperation, throwing his head back in frustration as well. The words don’t seem to come for a moment, but then he looks back at you, softer, more hesitant. “You don’t…You don’t think I can do it?”

“Do…what?”

“Be one? A boyfriend?”

Oh, the laugh you let out is audacious, as if the entire concept is the biggest comedic joke on planet earth. Apparently, the thought of it is hysterical because it makes you double over, damn near clutching your pearls as you howl.

The sound pisses him off, and he can’t help but scoff at the utter display of mockery. “What the fuck is so funny?”

Is he kidding?

“Rafe,” you spat incrediously as you come down from your laughter, “zoom out for a second. There’s no way you’re going to convince anybody, and it’s not like I’m gonna be any better.”

There’s a pause between the two of you, and you can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he clenches his jaw, looking at you as if you've just offended his entire bloodline. No matter how hard he pouts or if he really snaps his jaw, he has to know that’s the gospel truth, otherwise he’d be an idiot.

Although the sight makes you confused, but you blame your sudden dizziness on the previous interaction with your mother because there’s no way he’s getting upset about this right now. He has to know this is hilarious, right?

It’s only the truth: Rafe Cameron has repeatedly told you that he doesn’t do relationships, only holding short-term girlfriends back home when it was all the rage, that he can’t picture himself being tied to one girl forever. The thought was completely unheard of for him.

Maybe after college, is what he told you one day as you both lounged lazily, I’ll really start thinking about it. He had said that right before kissing you.

Rafe unclenches his jaw and narrows his gaze at you in calculation, either soaking in your words or coming up with his next rebuttal. Whatever it is, he thinks about it very carefully so that it leaves you waiting in anticipation.

“I could convince people,” he says cautiously, more to himself. “Totally. I could.” Rafe unclenches his fists, then whispers, “You really think I’d be that bad at it?”

The slight hesitation in his voice halts your movements, and you put your hands on your hips. “Give me a break. That’s not what this is about.”

Rafe’s shoulders sag. “Then what?” The sudden disposition makes you want to scream.

Why does he care so much?

“You’re… You’re just not coming.”

“Wh–” Rafe starts, reeling in confusion.

You shush him with a pointed finger. “No. You’re not. You’re gonna have the flu, or something. Maybe an incurable disease. I haven’t decided yet.” You sit down at your desk and hurriedly curl your eyelashes. “Whatever it is, it’ll be so badly…bad that you won’t be able to go, or even lift a finger.”

Rafe can’t help the twitch of his lip curling up into a smirk. “Is that a threat, baby?”

“Don’t baby me, right now. I’m not your baby.”

“Sorry, baby.”

“Seriously, Cameron. I’m about to twist and pull your balls off.”

Fully grinning, Rafe finds himself moving from his vantage point, sauntering over to the desk and resting his hands on your shoulders as he leans down close to her ear. You ignore the thump of your heartbeat, figuring it’s the aftermath of such an anxiety inducing conversation with its best kickstarter: your mother.

“Like an apple,” you emphasize with a gesture of plucking an apple off a tree in an attempt to regulate your dizziness from his close proximity, “just twist and pull them right off.”

Rafe rubs gentle circles in your muscle tensions, clearly finding the whole thing amusing. Prick. “You done?”

The relaxed tone makes you roll your eyes. “On second thought? You’d probably be into that. Freak.”

“You know me so well, hm, baby?”

“Nice try.” The honey in his voice almost makes you falter. Almost. “You’re still not coming.”

His thumbs massage the knots as he shrugs nonchalantly. “I dunno. It seems like it’ll be fun.”

You pause putting on mascara, looking at him through the mini mirror in disbelief. “Fun?” He shrugs again which makes you raise a brow. That's not the word you'd use, frankly. “You haven’t met my family.”

“I can totally woo them over. We already have so much chemistry.”

“The only time we’re not arguing is when we’re fucking.”

“I’ve never been to Italy,” he sighs dreamily, straying away from the point. “Been to Spain, Greece, France. But never Italy. I’ve always wanted to go.”

“No.”

“The food, the girls, the history.”

“No.”

“You’re really depriving me of my dream?”

“Yes,” you hiss, finishing your touches to your requested makeup. “Besides, I doubt you’ll be able to find a flight for next week.”

Rafe furrows his brows in confusion. “Jesus. The celebration’s a week long?”

You sigh irritatedly, moving to brush through your hair. He frowns at how aggressively you rip through the snarls. “No. The wedding’s two days after Thanksgiving.”

“Why are you going so early?”

A flicker of panic rises in your throat as you pause, moving to say something but stopping yourself. The last thing you want is Rafe Cameron weaseling himself into your life. It feels intrusive and oddly personal, and it suddenly dawns on you that you don't even know his middle name. Or if he even has one.

The thought of knowing more about him makes you nervous. But the thought of him knowing more about you makes your stomach churn queasily.

So you simply settle on a nonchalant shrug. “I just am.”

The tone makes him frown. “So, what? You’re just gonna dick around Italy for a week beforehand? Alone?”

“No.” You hate that he’s staring at you with those bright blue eyes, waiting for more, and you hate providing more.

Rafe notices your apprehension, squeezing your shoulders. “Hey,” he says firmly, slightly irritated that he has to beg but refusing to say please. “Stop deflecting.”

“You’re pushy when you don’t get what you want.”

“Sweet girl,” he warns, thumbs massaging circles.

You sigh, knowing he won’t let up until you give him what he wants. Fucking brat, you think. “I’m staying with my nonna,” you admit softly. “Well, she’s not technically my grandmother but she practically raised my dad, so, she basically acts like his mother. She lives in the countryside.”

Rafe pauses his movements, studying your face in the small mirror where you refuse to meet his eye, that one snippet of her personal life taking out a chunk of her dignity. Your gaze is hard, purposefully focused on doing your hair.

He finds himself frowning at the notion that you found it difficult to tell him such a simple thing. More often than not, wants to shake you like a tree to make the fruit fall, to make you tell him more snippets of your life, information he’s been yearning to know but too afraid to ask about.

Well, for fucks sake, you've been sleeping together for three months. God forbid he wants to know a little about you.

“That’s…nice,” he whispers cautiously.

You notice his sullen expression in the mirror, finishing up your hair so you can spin around in the chair and face him. His hands go to rest on the top of the chair as his piercing blues meet your eyes. He looks so fucking pretty right now that you grip the chair to refrain from forgetting the past ten minutes and dragging him back in bed.

Instead, you furrow your brows to try and mask you appreciation for his annoyingly pretty face, studying his expression, trying to look deeper in his eyes to search for anything other than honesty but coming up short.

You both stare at each other for a few moments, trying to gauge the other before you tap out, blinking out of whatever daze you were trapped in.

“Why don’t you have any Thanksgiving plans?”

Rafe shrugs. “I do.”

“Then why–?”

“If you had to choose between hanging out in Italy or having a week-long screaming match with your entire family, what’d you pick?”

That shuts you up.

Fuck. You look up at him with determined curiosity, trying to read between the lines of if he’s doing all of this simply to escape the horrors of his own family, or if he feels compelled to because your mother was standing five feet in front of him, or if he truly loves getting off on torturing you. Whatever the real reasoning is, the anger slowly starts fizzling out of your fiery chest and instead is replaced with calculation.

There is some potential for his presence. He could provide a shield for Paulette’s usual torture. Then, again, he could also fuel it.

“If I let you come,” you start slowly, which makes him stand straighter, “you’ll have to convince them and you need to behave. Especially in front of my nonna.”

Rafe nods, pathetically obedient.

You raise a brow. “I mean it.”

He manages a small smirk. “Did I mention I’m great with grandparents, too?”

You rolls your eyes so hard it hurts. You sit up straight and put a hand over his to make sure he understands what he’s getting himself into. “Excluding her, my family is fucking horrible, Cameron. Like, White Lotus pretentious. They’re rich and obnoxious, can’t mind their fucking business, painfully sexist, and can be everything under the sun that is synonymous to that. I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into. This isn’t a fucking playdate.”

And I’m probably going to be miserable the whole time I’m with them, you want to add, but refrain.

But Rafe only snorts at the irony. He’s been putting up with people like that his entire life.

“And my nonna is gonna put you to work,” you add with raised brows. “She’s going to make you carry shit around, tend to her garden, do a bunch of stuff to prove to her that you’re good for me. She doesn’t play around with me.”

“Baby,” he says, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “I’m about to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You snort, turning back to the mirror to last minute check over your features, hoping the results will suffice your mother's high expectations. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be hard,” you mutter, not seeing the way he frowns.

Standing, you smooth over your dress and grab your purse and jacket with a deep breath. Truly, you need to calm yourself down before you crashes out in front of him.

You don't want to admit it, but having him parade around the wedding pretending to be your boyfriend will probably make your life a little easier.

It’ll most likely stop making you feel like a constant disappointment to your mother for a good week, probably the only week of your life where you'll feel an ounce of your mother’s approval. It’s pathetic, you already know, to seek out affection through a lie, and the thought of telling this reasoning to Rafe will not only embarrass you further, but will give him fuel to make fun of you.

It's despicable that you probably can't earn your mother’s love and respect on your own – without a man – but frankly you're sick and tired of feeling like a constant outcast. Perhaps this will finally get your mother to start being proud of your other feats now that the boyfriend question is out of the picture, like for starters, your academic career.

Whilst you wallow in your scheming pity party, Rafe follows you to the door like a puppy, a newfound sense of determination glossed over his features.

“No, you just wait, sweet girl,” he murmurs to no one in particular. “I’m going to be the best fucking boyfriend anyone’s ever seen, show all those other assholes up. I’m gonna hold doors open for you and shit.”

(There’s a tiny part of him that, also, wants to make this experience for you as easy as it can be, because after seeing the tumultuous tension between you and your mother based off of one brief encounter, Rafe can already tell that you were originally going to have a hard time at the wedding all alone. If he can offer even an ounce of consolation or support for you, he’ll take it.)

“Sure, Cameron. Now be a good boyfriend and walk me to the car.”

Rafe fights a smile, excited to start proving himself.

note this is my first time ever posting on tumblr and i still don't really understand the site (i.e. requests and communities and things like that). hope you enjoyed!

#rafe cameron #salem-s works #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe outer banks #outerbanks #reader insert #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut

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cheapshrimpysheep · 3 months ago

Text

Dating in a Dream - Rook Hunt

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Rook Hunt x Reader 🏹🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda)

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Rook’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 2.270 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I hope you enjoy 🏹

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / (Rook) / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / Jade / Azul / ...

��Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho says when you land in the new dream, along with Grim, Silver, Sebek and Epel. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

After Silver checks if Epel is feeling okay after the trip from one dream to another, you all realize that you are in the Savanaclaw dorm. Which makes you wonder if you are in a Savanaclaw student's dream.

“AH! Mon amour!” You hear a familiar voice say.

You look and see Rook already by your side. One of his hands holds your waist to bring you closer to him, while the other holds your hand to kiss the back of it. But that wasn't the Rook you knew, he was wearing the Savanaclaw uniform, had freckles and messy hair tied in a ponytail under what looked like a cowboy style hat. You see the dreamer's bird flying over him.

“Any vision of you is a merveilleuse one! To what do I owe your and your friends' visit today?”

“ROOK?!” Epel says in disbelief, but then focuses on something else. “Wait... Doesn't ‘mon amour’ mean ‘my love’?”

“I have a bad and cringy feeling about this.” Idia's voice comments through the tablet.

“You're Epel Felmier, a Pomefiore freshman, I believe?” Rook says without taking his hands off you. “And you're in the Spelldrive Club, if I recall... Are you here to visit our housewarden Leona?”

“Can’t you have a conversation without clingin’ to my hench-human?” Grim complains and jumps into your arms to separate Rook from you.

“Hehehehe. I see I haven't been approved by you yet, Grim.” Rook says amusedly. “Very well, it seems that the journey to prove myself to you and have your blessing continues. Until then, a forbidden love this shall be. He he. Comme c'est excitant!”

“LO- Ugh! Why're you in Savanaclaw Dorm uniform anyway?!” Grim asks. “Your hair's all scraggly, and you've got stray leaves on your clothes... Vil would throw a fit if he saw you like that!”

“Vil?” Rook asks in astonishment. “You mean Vil Schoenheit, the actor?”

You all discover that, in this dream of Rook's, Vil does not study at Night Raven College, but instead at Royal Sword Academy. And he and Neige are like best friends. Rook, extremely excited, starts telling a lot of things about Vil and Neige to the point of quoting an interview with the two of them in full. Until he suddenly says something much louder than usual.

“Would you stop yelling?” Sebek says. “You startled me!”

“Oh, pardon me. I got rather carried away there... I just have so few people in Savanaclaw I can discuss Vil, Neige, and film in general with. Which also makes it a blessing to have someone like (Y/N) by my side.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Oh mon cher, you are as big a fan of Vil and Neige as I am. No one can match my adoration like you.”

“Thank you, Rook Hunt, this was fascinating.” Ortho says. “I'd actually like to learn more about them...”

“Truly?! Why, I would be delighted!”

The others show their discontent to Ortho, but he explains that the more they understand the differences between this dream world and the real one, the easier it will be for them to find a way to wake Rook.

Excited to tell them more about Vil and Neige, Rook suddenly runs into the Savanaclaw building. You and the others run after him because you can't get too far away from the dreamer. You run to the closed door of his room where you hear a commotion inside.

“How is it taking so long to fetch one magazine?” Sebek questions.

“D-don't worry, I'll be right out!” Rook responds trying to hide his concern. “Don't open that door, whatever you do!”

“Mrr! I'm hearin' weird noises comin' from inside.” Grim says.

“Apologies for the wait! I found more things I positively need to show you... Whoa!”

Fearing that Rook might be under attack by the darkness and ignoring his pleas for them not to enter, they break down the door and enter Rook's room. To find a room completely filled with Neige merch on one half of the room and Vil merch on the other half.

Rook laughs in a strange, almost threatening way and says that since they had seen his room they could no longer leave... without joining him in reverently watching DVDs of his favorite actors! So he forces everyone to sit with him to do it. And of course he makes you sit right next to him.

He made you all watch those DVDs for FIVE HOURS!

“The fact that they played arch-enemies just made those final smiles so... so... beauté!”

“Mrah... After marathoning all those movies and stage plays, I'm exhausted.” Grim says in a sigh.

Ortho thanks Rook for all that information and says that it is already very late and that everyone should go back to their respective dorms and get some sleep. Before they leave, Epel asks Rook about the SDC and he replies that Vil and Neige sang together and he just watched.

“We can have another watch party whenever you like. Perhaps we can put that show on next time. Bon nuit, everyone!”

As you all left Rook’s room one by one, you stayed behind to be the last to leave. Maybe you even did it on purpose to see if Rook would do something. And he did.

As soon as Epel leaves and you are about to leave next, Rook suddenly appears in front of you to casually close the door behind Epel.

“I wonder what I did wrong to receive such cold treatment from you, mon cher.” He tells you with a theatrically brokenhearted look. “I understand not getting a bisou de bonjour with so many people around you. But not even a small, discreet bisou d'adieu?”

He gets closer to you and caresses your cheek, looking you sadly in the eyes. Seeing that you don't back away from his touch, he continues.

“Oh, where did I go wrong? What mistake could I have made to receive such a cruel sentence as deprivation of your touch? Is it my bail conquer your love all over again?” He brings his face closer to yours with a seductive smile, and he sees that you don't move away, quite the opposite. “Or should I continue to claim innocence?”

“(Y/N)!” Grim shouts from the other side of the door. “What are you still doing in there?”

“Did something happen?” Silver asked.

“Stop wasting time human!” Sebek complains. “We all must go for now.”

Rook moves away from you.

“Ah... My diligent jailers. You must go with them so that their worries will cease. But I see that you are in good and capable hands.” He takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it before opening the door for you like a gentleman.

And if you thought about taking advantage of that moment to kiss him, you realized that he seemed to be... enjoying his... “punishment”. So you decided to save that possible kiss for later.

Outside Savanaclaw's dorm it was already night and you and the others talked about Rook's dream and how you could wake him up. Epel has the idea of recreating SDC's performance because it was the crucial moment that the darkness was trying to make him forget. Make him remember that Vil actually despises Neige to the point of doing what he did and Rook's betrayal. You, Epel and Grim taught Silver, Sebek and Ortho the dance steps of the choreography of Absolutely Beautiful so you could take the places of the remaining members of the original group.

The next day, you were the one tasked with getting Rook to go to the Coliseum. You sent him a message to meet you in front of it.

The time you had set was approaching, but you couldn't see Rook. He must have been getting ready to surprise you. You looked around as if you really believed you would be able to see him in time. Suddenly you feel a kiss on your cheek. You look, but you don't see anyone. You look back to the other side where he is right there next to you with a smile.

“Greetings and bonjour, mon cher. I'm here as you requested. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to show you something.” you say.

“Show me something?” Rook smiles. “Coming from you, I wonder with excitement what that might be.”

You take him inside the Coliseum so he can see the replica of the SDC stage up close. You go up on stage to dance with the others and Rook starts to get emotional because a part of him starts to remember that day. The dream begins to distort as if Rook were to wake up, but at that moment two darkness figures appear: Vil and Neige, both in RSA uniforms.

As if it were a real performance, the two of them take the stage after your group and start singing together, which moves Rook again, but in a way that makes him go back into his dream world.

Epel is angered by this and gives Rook a speech about what really happened that day and who they both know Vil really is. His Roi du Poison, their queen is way, way, WAY more poisonous and beautiful! And if he really believes that cheap copy comes even close to the real Vil, and he choosing him over the real one, that makes him more of a traitor right now that he was when he cast that vote for Royal Sword Academy!

And this is what makes the dreams shatter and Rook wake up.

Darkness Vil and Neige try to convince him to back down and accept singing with them, but Rook responds by preparing his bow and pointing an arrow in the direction of the two fake figures. Darkness Vil stands in front of Darkness Neige to protect him.

“What noble friendship you share...” Rook says with tears in his eyes. “And yet that very harmony is proof of my terrible betrayal!”

Rook and the others fight the fake figures and make them melt into darkness.

“Oh, dear pommette! To think I would be woken from my slumber by one bearing a poison that can put anyone to sleep.” Rook hugs Epel so tightly that he gasps for air. “Apologies...” he sobs “Oh, pommette, I can only beg you to forgive my betrayal.”

Epel tells him that he doesn't need to cry, but when he offers him a handkerchief, he realizes that he doesn't have one with him and the two comment on how Vil was right in telling him to carry one. The others talk about their own struggles in their respective dreams so that Rook knows that he wasn't the only one who forgot important things, that this was how those dreams worked to trap them.

“Merci! Oh, merci beaucoup! I cannot thank all of you enough. But there is one of you to whom I owe more than thanks, I owe an apology.” He walks up to you with an embarrassed and regretful face, and he kneels in front of you. “(Y/N), I'm so sorry for causing you so much discomfort. I never hid my love for you, so this part shouldn't have come as a surprise to you, but I can only hope that my behavior has not crossed any boundaries of yours. Please, forgive my shameless audacity. Whatever I can do to be worthy of your forgiveness, please tell me. I will do anything to redeem myself and have a fraction of your trust again.”

He was being so dramatic and still had tears in his eyes that it looked like he was trying to save himself from a death sentence for a horrible and unforgivable offense. The thing is... you like him too... and this was your chance to reciprocate the feeling.

Luckily for you, a simple, almost imperceptible smile from the corner of your mouth is enough for Rook to understand everything.

“Unless...” He stands up and looks you in the eyes with a smirk. “In truth, you enjoyed the experience of having me as your lover.”

You don't need to say anything. Your smile, whatever kind it is, is more than enough for him to understand perfectly. He holds one of your hands. That's how he saw, from the glove he was wearing, that he was still wearing Savanaclaw's uniform.

“In that case,” In the snap of a finger, Rook was back in his Pomefiore uniform and signature bob-cut. “Should we make it real?” he kisses the back of your hand. “Would you be so generous as to make my dream come true, my dear trickster?”

If you try to kiss him, he will stop you with a finger on your lips.

“Non, not yet.” he says despite the pity in his voice. The finger that interrupted your kiss slides to caress your cheek. “As much as I long to discover the wonderful feeling of your lips on mine, this must be something to be discovered in reality, not in a dream. I will wait impatiently for that moment. But sometimes it is this agony of waiting that makes everything so much more special... and intense.”

“ARE YOU DONE OR NOT?!” Grim complained. “Hurry up, we have another dream to go to!”

When you return to the real world, no matter what the state of Twisted Wonderland, Rook will find a way to lure you to a secluded place to finally taste your kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #pomefiore #Dating in a Dream #rook x reader

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yukioos · 3 months ago

Note

hey! Your post are great and made me think..... what's about a bakugou x y/n where they are cuddling in his dorms room and stuff and they are at a point in their relationship where he is SUPER inlove with her, and he is resting his head on her chest like a pillow and he starts to think about them (doing it) so he asks her and she's like.. "but babe.. I'm not really ready...uhh" and of course he goes with it and cuddles her more after. ☺️😗😫

when katsuki bakugo respects your wishes

katsuki’s head lay comfortably on your plush chest, arms wrapped securely around your body. your hands rubbed up and down his toned back, occasionally playing with his spikey hair if you got bored. words didn’t need to be said. it was clear that he just wanted some peace, away from all the chaos of his class.

he loved you so much. it’s almost been two years since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and it’d been the best decision of his life. for every day that passed, katsuki became happier and happier simply because of your presence. his parents loved you, hell, you even accompanied him to family events! he never doubted for even a second that his whole family loved you, you were meant to be together.

maybe you could get married once you graduated from u.a, or was that too soon? all he knew was that he wanted to be your husband and have children as soon as possible. he wanted to start a new life with you, have babies. would you have a boy? girl? twins? would they have your eyes and his hair or the opposite? would they just be a carbon copy of him or you?

katsuki just wanted to become more intimate with you, to feel closer to you. he’d been thinking about asking to have sex for a while but never had the time or confidence to ask you.

suddenly, his mouth ran faster than he could think, “can we have sex?”

your eyes widened and your body froze. was he truly this eager? i mean, you were flattered but didn’t know he would ask so quickly. how were you supposed to phrase your dissatisfaction without making it seem like you hated him?

his crimson eyes looked up into your worried ones, which darted across the room. you mumbled, “katsuki, i love you so much, you know that, but i don’t think i’m ready. i’m excited to start a whole new future with you but,” you paused, “i’m sorry, i’m not ready to have sex now. i don’t think it’s the right time for me.”

he nodded against your chest and quickly responded, “you know, you don’t have to get me a full explanation. just say no and i won’t ask anymore, alright? don’t feel pressured to do it if you’re not ready.”

how were you supposed to feel guilty about not being ready when he was that sweet? your cheeks warmed up at his kindness, and you couldn’t hold back the smile that appeared on your face.

you kissed his forehead and stated, “i love you, katsuki.” then kissed him once more on his cheek.

“i love you too, idiot.” he grinned once you kissed him multiple times, but he quickly paid you back with tickles on your stomach, resulting in loud laughter and upset neighboring students, and him peppering kisses all over your neck.

i’m so glad you love my writing! thank you all so much for 1000 followers! i love all of you so much, and reqs are still open! please read who i write for and rules & guidelines if you have an ask.

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my-castles-crumbling · 3 months ago

Text

streak - wolfstar, background jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 261

“I’m calling a dorm meeting,” Peter announced, walking into the room with a large piece of parchment in his hand.

Sirius, James, and Remus all looked up, curious. Peter, of all of them, called dorm meetings the least. However, right now, he looked determined.

“We have a problem,” the shortest boy said, “and as much as I’m happy for all of you, I’m quite bloody done.”

Immediately, Remus knew where this was going, but he just waited, holding back a smile.

“Listen, Wormy, if you can’t handle us pulling pranks on you-” Sirius began, a frown on his face.

“It’s not about the pranks, you tosser,” Peter retorted. “It’s about your stupid boyfriends.”

“Oi!” Remus yelled, slightly offended.

“Sorry, Moony,” Peter shrugged. “I’ve just seen quite enough ___ for my time here. So I’ve made this.”

He used his want to levitate the parchment and stick it to the wall.

“This room has gone 2 day(s) without scarring Peter for life,” James read aloud, before turning to the aforementioned boy. “Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

“Shall I call you ‘pot’ or ‘kettle’?” Peter retorted coolly.

“I mean…he’s got a point. This is his room, too,” Remus pointed out, still holding back a grin.

But Sirius just snorted. “Wormy’s just jealous that he can’t see proof that what they say about werewolves is absolutely true.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Remus burst out laughing despite himself, but Peter just sighed, waving his wand.

The ‘2’ on the banner changed to a ‘0’ and James exclaimed, “Oi! Way to ruin our streak!”

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sapphire-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester.

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love.

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player.

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more.

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing.

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows.

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin.

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear.

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up.

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs.

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other.

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that.

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure.

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him.

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly.

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!”

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him.

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes.

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps.

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone.

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt.

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest.

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop.

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered.

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field.

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again.

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center.

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs.

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance.

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?”

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers.

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself.

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer.

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit.

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes.

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure.

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch.

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air.

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest.

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

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sparklysung · 6 months ago

Text

✨SHARING IS CARING - l.d.h.✨

pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader

genre – smut, fluffish | non-idol!au, roommates!au, friends (?) to lovers!au

warnings – oral (m. and f. receiving), face sitting, cum eating, squirting, exhibitionism (reader touches hyuck while he's on a call with his friends), unprotected sex (pls don't), lots of cursing, mentions of hyuck masturbating to the thought of reader), a little possessiveness at the end, panty thief!hyuck.

word count – 5.733 words

summary – where your roommate from hell is also hot as hell, and both of you enjoy annoying the hell out of each other.

note – so... i've been working –on and off but still– on this for about maybe 2 years? i just recently got inspiration to finish it lol any feedback would be greatly appreciated, just pls be kind <3 anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this!

“hey, y/n. have you seen my-.”

“how fucking rude of you to just walk in unannounced. what if i was naked or something? learn how to knock, you airhead.”

your face turned into an ugly scowl when your roommate and the cause of all your nightmares –and wet dreams–, lee donghyuck, completely ignored your complaint, looking equally annoyed as you.

“shut up,” the boy sneered, “is that my fucking shirt you have on right now? i’ve been looking for it for the past three days!”

you let your eyes trail down your body, the graphic tee barely long enough to cover your ass as your fingers toyed with the hem of the garment.

“oh, yeah. i found it while doing laundry and thought it looked good on me so i decided to keep it,” you shrugged carelessly, “don’t you agree, hyuck?”

the piece of clothing that was oversized on him fitted even bigger on you, drowning your smaller frame. you looked so soft and warm in it, so incredibly comfy the tip of his fingers itched to touch you. to feel your perky breasts through the soft fabric of his shirt.

he couldn’t deny it, you did look awfully good in his clothes.

but he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it out loud. especially to your face.

“i mean yeah you look good,” donghyuck mumbled under his breath, shamelessly licking his chapped lips.

when he noticed the sly grin etched on your face he had to pinch himself to force his eyes away from your alluring figure, careful not to get distracted by your smooth legs gracefully spread across the bed.

shaking his head, he tried to remember why he had almost left a dent on your wall from the way he had slammed your bedroom door open in the first place.

“but that’s not the point here. you stole my clothes!”

his words made you scoff loudly, clearly pretending to be offended by his accusation. “i still don’t see the problem. didn’t your mom teach you to share?”

your blank expression and unbothered attitude was so incredibly infuriating donghyuck felt like plucking his eyelashes one by one. and he had no doubt in mind you were well aware of it.

although most of your conversations consisted of you both bickering back and forth like two middle school kids fighting for the same toy, donghyuck had learned how that evil little mind of yours worked throughout the time you lived together.

your roommate may have not been the brightest lightbulb of all, but anyone with two working brain cells could agree that there was no activity in this world, nothing, that gave you as much joy as annoying the living hell out of him.

truth is, nothing could have prepared you –or donghyuck– for the turn of events your life would take in the span of 24 hours. the moment you opened the front door to your dorm apartment –fully expecting to see a fellow uterus-bearer–, to him, luggage in hand and ready to move into the room next to yours, you made it your ultimate goal to terrorize the poor boy.

and how could you not? your roommate-from-hell made it so easy for you to read him like an open book. one look at his face, at those big, expressive eyes and you could almost hear his thoughts.

“that’s my lucky shirt, i need it back. right now.”

“don’t you see i need it too? what am i supposed to wear if you take it away from me?”

“i don’t really care, y/n, that’s not my problem.”

“then come here and take it off yourself.”

the small gasp that tumbled out of his plush lips made a warm feeling pool at the pit of your stomach. if it weren’t because you were trying to fuck donghyuck and not fuck with donghyuck, you would have giggled.

“w-what?”

“you heard me. if you want it back you’ll have to come take it off with your own hands.”

“you’re fucking crazy. i-i, what the fuck, y’know i can’t do that!” donghyuck cried out, his skin beginning to prickle with frustration, heart rate spiked up to reach dangerous speeds. “c’mon, y/n, just give it back already. the guys are waiting for me.”

“too bad.”

your pouty lips had him clenching his fists. not only to stop himself from choking you to death, but also to ground himself. he could feel a droplet of sweat drip down the back of his neck, body temperature rising concerningly fast at your very clear attempt at taunting him.

if only he could have them stretched around him, struggling to fit the thickness of his dick…

but that was not the matter at hand.

donghyuck was known for always being late to everything. and usually it was for a good reason. like forgetting about an important assignment until the very last minute and having to stay home to submit it on time. or getting stuck in traffic. or maybe even finding himself in trouble for running his mouth too much for his own good.

all of them were pretty believable. things no one would ever have an ounce of a doubt could potentially happen.

but this, this right here was something donghyuck could never explain to anybody without them immediately calling him out for trying to bullshit his way out of trouble. even if it was indeed real, no one would believe him. ever.

and to be fair, it did sound like the plot of a bad porn movie, one probably titled something along the lines of ‘lucky guy fucks hot roommate’.

considering how big of an attention whore you were, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had your own only fans account and were seeking a helping hand. his hand.

“don’t you wanna fuck me, hyuck?”

if donghyuck wasn’t taken aback by your attitude before, he had to physically take a step back this time, jaw almost hitting the floor.

“why are you so horny all of a sudden?”

“wouldn’t you also feel horny if you had to constantly sit through your roommate getting off in the other room?”

donghyuck felt like a bucket of cold water was tossed over his head, and he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to his feet. you could see him scrambling to think of something to say.

poor boy looked like he was caught committing a crime.

how adorable.

“okay, well, i’m sorry. i have needs, y’know? unfortunately i can’t control when my dick decides to get hard-.”

“i know you jerk off to the thought of me,” you interrupted abruptly, staring at him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “i’ve heard you before.”

the blood instantly drained from donghyuck’s face. he suddenly felt lightheaded, having to lean against your door in case he fainted.

how did you even find out?

sure, he knew the walls were thin and not exactly soundproof. and yeah, your rooms were right next to each other, separated only by one of those thin walls he often joked about being made out of cardboard. but he always waited until you were out of the apartment to enjoy his much needed self care time. and he swore he was always quiet. as quiet as one can be when beating your meat to the thought of your sexy roommate.

“what are you-.”

“why don’t you just come fuck me instead of using your own hand?” you sounded as if you were offering him to wash the dishes, way too casual for the situation at hand. “i bet it doesn’t feel the same.”

donghyuck didn’t know what was going on. everything was moving too fast for his poor brain –rotten due to all the hours he had spent masturbating to hentai porn– to keep up, visibly struggling to process the situation.

“fuck, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to react.”

the thing is, that was exactly what you wanted. for him to lose his shit and fuck you into next week. shove his dick in your pussy without even bother to let you adjust to the stretch and take you to pound town for the next five hours.

“i’m not joking, hyuck. i meant what i said.”

someone pinch me, he thought.

was this a new way you discovered to toy with him? because if it was, then it was so fucked up.

“fine. i’ll call jeno over then,” you shrugged, reaching out for your phone at his lack of response. “i’m sure he wouldn’t mind sticking his big dick in my tight little pussy.”

your words hit donghyuck like a fucking truck. his jaw almost dislocated from how wide his mouth flew open, the tips of his ears turning a rosy color at the prospect of his friend. in bed. with you. fucking his huge dick –because everyone knew he was packing– into your needy hole. having you cream all over his cock, holding onto his strong arms as you cry out his name.

just the thought of your fucked out expression and loud whines had him salivating in his mouth.

donghyuck and jeno had been friends since forever, which meant he knew for a fact that his best friend would ditch him in a heartbeat if you did as much as look at him the way you were currently looking at your roommate.

“c’mon hyuck, i know you’re dying to touch me.”

the boy in front of you visibly struggled to keep himself together when one of your hands traveled down your body to rub yourself through the thin material of your pajama shorts. his knees felt weak, ears burning at the sound of your sweet moans.

“i need you.”

your words replayed in his head like a broken record. you said you needed him. not jeno. not anyone else. him. as in donghyuck. your roommate for the past year.

as much as he did want to touch you, feel every curve of your body, he was also scared you were just messing with him. he was scared that finally giving in to his desires would just embarrass him and ruin his almost nonexistent chance with you.

god, donghyuck liked you so much. his little crush on you had already become annoying the moment he realized it even existed.

you were the biggest tease he had ever met. and that says a lot coming from the lee donghyuck himself. you were always playfully flirting with him whenever you felt like it. or felt like giving him a hard time. and he could see it in your face you enjoyed every second of seeing him struggle to respond.

“i-i,” he gulped with difficulty, mouth dry as a desert. “i can’t.”

you watched the slim boy waddle his way out of your room. and you would’ve missed the tent growing in his shorts if he hadn’t almost tripped over his own feet and fallen next to you on your bed.

for around ten minutes, you remained frozen in place, figuring out how to get your roommate to break and give into his –and your– desires.

this was the closest you had gotten to crossing the line separating an innocent friendship –if you could call it that– between roommates from something more. something you both wanted but knew he was far too scared to try and make happen.

and how were you so sure about his feelings for you?

easy.

the boy wore his heart on his sleeve.

anyone could tell how enamored he was with you. how he visibly perked up whenever you were around. the way his cheeks would turn an adorable shade of red and his eyes alternate between staring at the floor, daydreaming about you, and sending heart eyes your way.

it had even become an ongoing joke within your own friend group. no one could –or wanted to– stop teasing you about his seemingly undying love for you.

“c’mon, just look at him,” chaewon once pointed out in the middle of the library, elbowing you while whisper-shouting, “he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. even to the library!”

as much as you wanted to shush her, she was right.

before he moved into your now shared apartment, he would remain at least a 100 miles radius from the library. it was as if he was allergic to knowledge, his handful of brain cells immediately going out of service at the smell of old books.

now, once you joined the picture, it was as if a switch was flicked. he became a regular at the campus library all of a sudden, so much so that even the old librarian tending the front desk knew him by name.

the end might be near, you thought when you first saw him sitting in a corner of the library, a variety of books sprawled across the table as he pretended to understand the book in his hands on quantum physics. you knew, of course, he didn’t. the boy was so busy looking around the building for something –or rather someone– to notice the book he was holding was upside down.

his blatant attempts at getting closer to you weren’t a complete fail though, as they had your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about the messy boy on the other side of your bedroom wall.

but before even thinking about how boyfriend material he was when he wasn’t trying to piss you off, you first wanted to test the waters. get a sneak peek at what dating donghyuck would look like without actually committing to it just yet.

and the only way you could think of to do so without forcing yourself into a vulnerable position and directly confessing was by fucking your roommate.

after taking a run for it out of your room, donghyuck decided he would have to do without his lucky shirt during this gaming session. hopefully only tonight. he knew the guys would not leave him alone if he was the reason for another loss, especially after boasting so much about his abilities the last time they played together.

sitting on his gamer chair, still shaken by the interaction, he ran his fingers through his hair to clear his reeling mind. he needed to forget about what had just happened in the other room and focus on the task at hand: winning rounds in pubg.

soon, donghyuck was able to immerse himself in the game, all thoughts about you drowning at the loud sound of firearms and the screams of his friends coming from his headset. so far he had been able to take down roughly a dozen other players, carrying the highest streak among his friends much to his delight.

however, the calm before the storm didn’t last long.

the boy tensed up, fingers stuttering over his gamer keyboard when you rested your warm cheek right next to the still noticeable bulge in his basketball shorts. instinctively, his legs parted to give you space to position yourself between them.

he hadn’t even noticed the moment when you had slipped into his room and quietly crawled under his desk, too deep into the game to sense the movement.

donghyuck would be lying if he said he had never thought about you on your knees for him before. so many, almost too many times. he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide.

willing his heart to slow down a bit, he peered down at you. you looked so unbelievably beautiful with your long eyelashes fluttering delicately as you stared up at him, big eyes locked on his.

“keep playing,” your hot breath against his inner thigh had the hairs in his neck standing up.

he hadn’t even realized when exactly he had stopped playing, too busy engraving the visual in front of him in his head.

gulping with some difficulty, donghyuck did as he was told. usually it came easy for him to submerge himself in the game, tuning out everything but the loud voices of his friends.

“you’re so hard, hyuckie,” you snickered, licking your lips as your finger trailed the outline of his painfully hard cock with a feather-like touch that caused him to shiver. “is it all for me?”

he pursed his lips tightly and simply bobbed his head yes, afraid of his friends catching onto what was going on on his end of the call.

satisfied, you let yourself cop a feel of his length. your hand palmed him over his pants, squeezing around the sensitive head every so often. even through the material of his shorts you could feel the precum leaking out of his tip.

the view in front of you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together, thickened clit throbbing in excitement.

his silky hair, usually styled, was now messily framing his pretty face in the most beautiful way possible. his dark eyes were rolled back, slender fingers curling into fists as his hips raised from the chair, sloppily humping your hand. he looked fucked out already with sweat already dripping down his temple.

what a man.

“dude, what’s up with you? you sound like you just ran a marathon,” mark’s voice had donghyuck squirming in his seat, heart almost beating out of his chest. “are you alright?”

the boy’s head snapped to look at the screen in front of him, neck almost breaking from the aggressiveness of the movement.

“speak up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, tightening your fingers around the base of his cock.

his hips stuttered, hands holding on the edge of his desk as he swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape his lips. he heaved a shaky breath, summoning all his self control to not bust his load right then and there.

“i-i’m fine,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was struggling to make a sound. or more like to not make a sound. “shouldn’t have had taco bell for lunch.”

you could see the boy holding his breath, terrified his friends would see right through his weak excuse of a lie. and a sigh of relief almost slipped past his lips when they only hummed, quickly going back to their previous conversation, not very interested in digging into the cause of his unusual behaviour any deeper.

meanwhile, the pretty little devil between his legs got to work, releasing his dick by harshly pulling down his shorts. you blew air at the sensitive tip, making him shudder at the sensation. but it wasn’t until you placed a peck to his slit, fingers going to hold him at the base, pumping your fist up and down, when the boy gave into his primal desires.

“guys, gotta go,” donghyuck interrupted the conversation less than five minutes later, hurriedly clicking off the game and moving to end the call.

“what-,” renjun protested immediately, sounding nothing less than annoyed, and donghyuck was sure he would be getting nagged next time he saw his friend. “we’re in the middle of a round and getting our asses kicked because of you, you can’t just dip now!”

“i’m sorry,” was all he mumbled before turning off his computer.

donghyuck didn’t even bother taking off his headphones, opting for simply letting it hang around his neck. he was too close, too desperate for release to worry about getting sweat all over the –new and very expensive– device –that he had just acquired not even a week ago after months of hard work–.

he could feel how hot his face was, sticky skin burning under the intense heat of your gaze. the smug smirk that adorned your pretty face had his body on fire, a combination of embarrassment and need making his cock twitch uncontrollably.

being able to see the power you had over the lee donghyuck had you almost shaking with excitement, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you out of breath. you would be lying if you said you had never thought about this, having him all to yourself, at your disposal, ready to take anything you gave him.

your hand never stopped moving up and down his length, giving kitten licks to the swollen tip of his cock.

he wanted to scream and smash his head against the desk, desperation clawing at his throat. he knew you were trying to break him, to make him beg for it, to fully give in to you.

the idea of pleading for your touch, for you to engulf his hard cock with that sweet little mouth of yours had his jaw clenching.

but fuck… he really wanted, no, needed more. to watch you gag as he fucked your throat, tears escaping the corner of your eyes at the discomfort. he wanted your soft hands gripping his strong thighs to hold yourself together, a mix of saliva and his precum making the lower half of your face glisten under the light of his screen.

“i,” he struggled to speak up, voice trembling from the intense pleasure. “i’m close.”

“i can see that,” you smirked, twirling your tongue around the head before gently poking his slit with the tip of your tongue.

“please, i need more.”

donghyuck finally broke, babbling incoherent words, urging you to fully take him in.

fortunately for him, you immediately obliged, pushing your head down until the tip of your nose hit his neatly trimmed pelvis. he really thought some more begging was going to be necessary for you to give him what he wanted.

“fuck, yeah. just like that,” the sigh of relief he let out quickly turned into a loud moan when you swallowed around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs.

his orgasm hit him like a wrecking ball. his entire body began trembling, hands shooting to hold your head down –as if you were planning on pulling away–, fingers threading through your hair for a better grip. spurts of hot, salty cum painting the walls of your throat, and you eagerly swallowed everything he gave you.

the sound of his heavy breaths filled the dimly lit room, his body still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just rocked his world.

you pushed his gamer chair back by his thighs, climbing onto his lap with a satisfied hum. you allowed him some rest, aware of his shaky legs, and instead focused your attention on the tan skin of his neck. you placed a tentative lick right under his jaw, slowly moving down the expanse of his throat. the feeling had the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing aggressively, your fingers going to play with the hem of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room.

once he stopped feeling like his legs were going to give up on him, donghyuck stood up from his place on the chair making you yelp in surprise, strong arms holding you against him. he then sat at the edge of his bed, head resting on your shoulder.

“i wanna taste you,” donghyuck pleaded, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. “please, sit on my face.”

you instantly nodded, quickly removing your pajama shorts, body tingling with anticipation as you pressed your palm flat on his chest to push him onto his back. he complied, not a single complaint coming out of his mouth at your display of dominance.

donghyuck swiped his tongue over his pretty lips, wetting them and leaving them glistening with spit as he patiently waited for your next move.

“so eager,” you teased, a smug grin on your face.

“stop playing and hurry up,” the boy whined, lifting himself from his place, holding himself up with the help of his forearms.

his eyes were barely open, pupils blown out. he looked so hot, laying shirtless on his messy bed. all hard and wet, ready for you to drop your panties and sit on his dick.

and oh how bad you wanted to sit on it.

swinging your leg over his body, you positioned yourself so your dripping pussy was hovering right over his mouth. you immediately felt his large hands grip at your ass, forcing you down to finally sit on his face.

“thank you,” you could clearly feel his lips moving against your panty-clad core, the breathy sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “god, thank you so much.”

you didn’t even get to laugh at him, or tease him about how desperate he looked sucking your juices off of your panties. all that died on your tongue when he used two fingers to push the crotch of your underwear out of the way and immediately latched his mouth to your pussy.

“look at you, what a messy munch, eating me out like your life depends on it,” you teased, biting your lip when you felt his tongue poke at your gaping hole, caressing your insides.

the dirty words coming out of your mouth had donghyuck physically shaking under your weight, urging him to keep going. he wanted nothing more than to see you cum, have your hips sloppily rocking into his pretty lips and leaving the evidence of your arousal all over his face.

“fuck, hyuck. just like that,” you sighed contently, harshly grinding against his mouth. “you’re such a good boy.”

donghyuck hummed appreciatively, relishing at the praise, eyes falling shut and hands reaching for your thighs, massaging the soft flesh.

he loved the attention you were giving him, and he let you know just how proud of himself he was when one of his palms slammed against your ass cheek before nipping at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

it all happened so fast that your orgasm caught you completely off guard. you didn’t even have time to flinch at the stinging on your backside, the knot in your stomach suddenly snapping, and you melted into a puddle. your trembling thighs clamped around donghyuck’s head, your entire upper body folding forward, struggling not to collapse on top of the boy under you.

you must have blacked out for a second there, and once you regained consciousness you were left in a breathless, sweaty mess.

“shit, that was so fucking hot,” donghyuck mumbled, sounding breathless as he stared down at his body with hooded eyes, snapping you out of your daze. “when were you going to tell me you could squirt?”

“i can’t-,” you choked on a loud gasp when you saw his now glistening chest.

your cum had sprinkled all over the place, some of it even reaching his naked thighs. embarrassment washed over your face, making your cheeks heat up.

“this is so much better than what i had hoped for, fuck.”

his pretty cock stood tall, in all its glory once again, hard and leaking, twitching every time his eyes travelled back to the mess you made.

swallowing your embarrassment, you moved to straddle your roommate’s hips, teasing your wet pussy over his hard cock. but before you could fuck yourself with it, donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you before flipping you both on your side.

“what are you doing,” you scowled, a pout on your swollen lips. “i was about to ride you!”

“as sexy as that sounds, we can do that later.”

“but-.”

“just, let me, okay?” his voice sounded so soft, so soothing you couldn't find it in you to fight with him as you usually would. “do you trust me?”

“what? what are you gonna do?”

“answer me, please.”

donghyuck’s soft voice and tender gaze made a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, a fuzzy feeling settling into your chest.

“i do.”

one of his hands grabbed your leg, bringing it to rest over his hip before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. donghyuck smashed his mouth against yours, swallowing the small whimper that fell from your lips when he teased your clit.

“hyuck, put it in already,” you whined, clenching around nothing at the friction.

and how could he say no when you sounded so desperate to feel him? when he had been waiting for this moment for so long?

nodding, he did as you wished, pushing his hips into yours. his thick cock stretched your pussy wide open with each delicious inch, filling you up in a way you didn’t know you needed. his mouth fell open as your velvety walls enveloped him. your head rolled back, holding onto his arms for support, letting him push himself in further, deeper.

it felt like heaven. your bodies fitting perfectly against each other, as if you were both made for the other; just like puzzle pieces.

low groans left his chest at the sound of your tiny mewls, enjoying the burning sensation of your nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

donghyuck liked the way you said his name, how you called out to him with pretty eyelashes decorating those big eyes of yours as you looked at him. he liked the frustration and raw desire swimming in your eyes, and the way it made your lips form into a pout and your eyebrows scrunch together.

“move, hyuck,” you pleaded, attempting to grind your hips into his. “please.”

a scream was forced out of your throat as donghyuck immediately began slamming his throbbing cock inside of you. your whole body trembled in his arms as the bulbous head hit your g-spot, and almost as if he had just pressed a button, your mind went blank.

“t-there, fuck, oh my g-god.”

the distant look in your eyes, lips parted into a silent moan, drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth, let him know just how good he was making you feel. his chest swelled with pride, a newfound passion taking over him and turning his thrusts into deep, precise strokes that had you reaching heaven.

“feels good? this is what you wanted, right? to have my dick fucking you full?” donhyuck grunted, repositioning you on your back and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he could feel himself throbbing wildly inside of you, warning him about his up and coming high.

“yes,” you gasped, legs tightening around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.

you would be telling the truth if you said you had never gotten railed like this before. who would’ve guessed the hentai-crazed dork next door would be so good at fucking you dumb? if it weren’t for his now obvious experience in the matter at hand you would’ve confidently assumed he had never been touched by a woman.

oh how wrong you were.

“i’ve dreamed about this for the longest time,” the boy confessed, “every time you walked around the place, wearing only a large shirt and panties, ass in full display, i had to lock myself in this room to fuck my first, wishing it was you instead.”

donghyuck could feel your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice at the weight of his confession. with your orgasms quickly approaching, he propped your calves on his strong shoulders to reach even deeper, lips going to kiss your breasts and nibble on your nipples.

“i can tell how much you like to be treated like the dirty slut you are,” he groaned against your chest, feeling his vision blur. “you’re fucking dripping all over me, creaming my cock.”

“h-hyuck,” your body began convulsing under him, about to tip over the edge.

“cum for me, y/n, let me see how pretty you look falling apart on my dick.”

and that was all you needed to hear before a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body, calves squeezing donghyuck’s head from the intensity of your orgasm.

before you were able to fully ride your high, donghyuck pulled out, drawing whines out of you at the emptiness he left behind. ignoring your complaints, he shoved your legs together, shoving his cock between your plush thighs as he picked up his pace once again.

“fuck, i’m almost there,” he moaned, breathless.

and you couldn’t help but do the same as you stared at his face, eyes struggling to stay open as he chased his high like a rabid dog, using your body for his pleasure.

it didn’t take more than three harsh thrusts before he was spilling his essence all over your lower stomach and thighs with a pornographic moan.

releasing his hold on your legs to let them fall back in place, he collapsed on top of you, almost crushing you with his body, completely spent.

fortunately –or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it–, donghyuck was unable to successfully commit homicide. and after showering together and going for another round, each of you went back to your respective rooms, moving on like nothing happened.

just like that, your lives quickly fell back in place and normality took over once again.

or so you thought.

“hyuck, have you seen my pink panti-.”

you audibly gasped when you saw the pink lace panties you were searching for discarded on your roommate’s bed, a huge cum stain you were sure was not there the last time you saw them messily smeared on the crotch.

“what the fuck?”

“oh, yeah, i saw them in the dryer the other day and thought they looked too pretty not to jerk off to them,” the boy shrugged from his place in front of his large monitor, not even bothering to look at you. “honestly, you should invest in satin thongs, i think they’d look hot as fuck.”

“you little thief! i’ve been looking for them for days!”

“need i remind you that sharing is caring?” you huffed, a scowl on your face. “what do you need them for anyway?”

“to go out with chaewon, obviously?” you scoffed, annoyed.

he finally turned to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up and a dark look in his eyes. “so? were you planning on showing them to her or what?”

the growing annoyance in his tone left you scrambling for an answer, equally parts surprised and turned on by the hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“so what if i was?” you challenged, arms crossed in defiance.

you barely got time to react when his chair suddenly swirled around, donghyuck’s full attention now set on you.

“only i am allowed to see you in them, so you better behave.”

–lia:)

#nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct x reader smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct donghyuck smut #nct dream haechan smut #nct haechan smut #nct 127 haechan smut #nct 127 smut #nct u smut

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poisonofthepaint · 3 months ago

Text

Day After Tomorrow - Part Three

a/n: this is the final part!! i really loved writing this story and i love jack so pls send in some ideas for him. hope u love it baiii

pt 1 pt 2

18+!!!!!! MDNI

content warning: age gap, awkward reader a little. oral (r!receiving), nipple sucking, p in v sex, i really don't know what else but this is pretty filthy LOL. i didn't have a lot of time to proofread so forgive me pls <3

Saying you were nervous for your date was an understatement. You’ve had your share of first dates, but you were certainly rusty at the moment. You’ve always been too busy to really deal with your love life. Between school, and your absurd hours at work, it only really left you about two hours a day of free time to yourself. And God, you were not gonna let some random person get in the way of those two hours.

But Jack wasn’t a boy. He was a man. He was a grown man. With a stable job, and a 401k, and real insurance, definitely not his parents. And at this point, you were quite scared the age gap was going to be a problem. You were mostly scared you were going to say something stupid in front of him. You knew you were far from unintelligent. You excelled in your degree, you had a lot of common sense, and humor! Which is proven to show intelligence. But in all honesty, you haven’t taken a science class since your freshman year of undergrad. The information from anatomy class had fallen so far out of your brain you’re pretty sure it still haunted your first dorm room. You didn’t know how to talk about his line of work with him, you didn’t know anything about emergency medicine. And that scared you, deeply. You have been so wrapped up in your philosophy groups, where everyone always knew what the other was talking about, that you weren’t sure how to learn something brand new anymore.

Maybe that was the most exciting part, though. The idea of opposites attract, like the movies. Yeah, it was exciting, not nerveraking. You had read recently that anxiousness and excitement caused the same physical symptoms, so you tried to trick your brain into being excited. You were excited. You had been looking forward to seeing him since he sent the first text.

You texted back right away, of course, telling him that you’d be delighted to accompany him to dinner. He asked for your address, and said he’d pick you up, which was the most gentleman-like act you’ve experienced in years. Or so you thought, because before you know it, there’s three small raps at your door. You check your phone, seeing the time is 5:47. There’s also a text from Jack saying that he was on his way, you had missed it in your whirlwind of getting ready. You move towards the door quickly, turning the creaky knob.

He looks good— unreasonably good. He has on a tight fitted black henley, a pair of nice, fitted jeans, and some black tennis shoes. You don’t know how casual attire makes him look so sexy, but it does. A silver chain glints in the light, and you think you may faint. You’re so taken aback by his attractiveness, you don’t even see the bouquet of tulips that he’s holding out to you.

Jack stands there, letting you take him in. He's got a smug little smile on his face. “Hi there. These are for you. I was hoping you would just have a vase?”

You nod, words not forming quite yet. “Can I come in?” he asks softly.

“Yes! Sorry, yes, yes, come in. Excuse the mess.” your apartment was spotless, but it just felt like the right thing to say. It’s what people said when they had guests, and your dialogue was being reduced to factory settings.

“Nice apartment,”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad.” you grab a vase from under the sink, filling it up halfway with water. You make quick work of cutting the stems off the tulips before plopping them in the water.

“Are you ready to go after that?”

Your heart thumps in your chest, so hard you can feel it in your throat. “Yeah, I am.”

“You’re less talkative today,” he says. Not prying, just observing. He looks at you like he’s assessing you for symptoms.

“Honestly, I can’t really believe you’re standing in my apartment.”

He smiles, “Still think you’re dreaming me up?”

“Maybe a little,”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you how real I am tonight.”

You gulp at the innuendo, unsure if it was even supposed to be an innuendo, but that's definitely the way you were taking it.

Jack catches your eyes and nods his head towards the door before walking over, leading the way. You follow his suit instinctively.

His car is a nice, black truck, and the inside is spotless. Not that you thought it would be dirty, but it’s unrealistically clean. Almost like he just bought it. You hear a soft talking over the radio, no, it’s something else.

He sees you trying to locate the noise, “It’s a police scanner, if there’s an emergency coming into the hospital I like to know so I can go help.” he blinks at you, recognizes the words coming out of his mouth, “Does that make me a crazy workaholic?”

You belly laugh, “God, no, I mean if people need help, it’s good you want to help.”

“I do like to help.”

“You really love it, don’t you?”

“I do, I think what I do is some of the most important work in the world, and I’m good at it. And I like being good at things.”

You hum in response, “Definitely very important work,”

“What do you like about philosophy?”

“I just think it’s an interesting study on human nature. I like applying philosophies I agree with to my personal life, or putting them on other people. I like sharing how to think one way instead of another. I just like to think, maybe.” you say, frazzled. No one really asks you why philosophy. They just hear that it’s your degree, and move on.

“I like that. The world needs more people who fucking think.” he says. His eyes are glued to the road, he has one hand on the wheel, and one resting on the gear shift. His fingers softly tap to their own rhythm.

“How many stupid people do you deal with in a day?”

“More than I would like to admit. I’m sure you get your fair share.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to treat them for six hours while they tell me I’m wrong about life saving practices.”

He nods sharply, “This period of time is certainly an interesting one. I don’t know why half of them even come in, they just sit there and refuse treatment.”

You shake your head, “I change my answer. I’m getting a philosophy degree so I don’t have to deal with the general public.”

It’s his turn to belly laugh, “I don’t blame you, kid.”

You get dizzy from the nickname. The car settles into a comfortable silence. You continue your drive until you pull into a small, nice Italian restaurant.

Jack puts the car in park. You go to reach for the handle and he scoffs, “Stay in.”

He gets out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. You want to cry, you still think he’s fake. You get out, try to pretend like your hands aren’t shaking. He closes the door behind you, then grabs your hand. The contact sends sparks right up your arm, just like the first time he grabbed the coffee up from you. You thought shit like that was fake, but it was real, this was real.

The dinner goes perfectly. The conversation flows. Jack is a lot less abrupt when he’s not in the middle of a shift. He tells you stuff about his personal life, about his parents, and even a little bit about the war. He talks to you about medical supplies he thinks are changing the future. And he lets you talk. He genuinely cares what you have to say. He never looks at you like your degree is anything less than his. He even looks blown away at some things. The owner of the restaurant comes over at one point. You learn that he and Jack served together. You feel honored to meet someone Jack knows already. The date is all you could have wished for– it was better than a dream. Jack was real, and he enjoyed your company. You could tell on his face. The creases between his eyebrows went away, and his smile lines got deeper. He was mysterious when you met him, but now, you felt like you already knew him, and how to read him.

The drive home is equally perfect. Jack cracks the windows a little, letting in fresh air. You feel the wind hit your hair lightly. He won’t stop looking over at you. His hand twitches towards you on the gear shift, and you reach out for it without thinking. He glances down, and then back up at you. He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together. You rest your sewn together hands on your lap, studying his rough hand.

Of course, he walks you to your door. You lead the way, and you can hear him trailing behind you, slowly, cautiously.

You unlock the door and turn to look at him, “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” he smiles.

You linger in the doorway, not wanting the night to end. “Did you have a good time?”

His eyes soften at you, “Yeah, I had a real good time. Best time in a while.” Your breathing falters. “I’d really like to kiss you.” Jack says.

You still, then nod, you can tell your eyes are wide and glazed over.

“I’m gonna need some words, sweetheart.”

“I would like that.” you say, barely above a whisper.

He approaches you. Grabs your cheek, gives it a gentle rub with his thumb before leaning down. He lets his nose rest on yours for a second, taking you in. He’s so close, his chest bumps yours when he breathes in. He closes his eyes and closes the space between you. It’s soft at first, it’s kind. It’s– alert. You can’t help yourself. You need more. You make the move to deepen it and that’s all he needs. He presses into you, so hard that you enter your apartment. He’s so fucking smooth, you can’t stand it. You try not to think about all the practice he’s had, probably before you were even a concept in your parents head. He closes the door with his back before spinning you around and pushing you against the wooden entrance. You grab his face, pulling away from him. Jack chases your lips, but when you turn away, he starts placing soft kisses on your neck instead.

“I want you to know,” you say panting, “I never do this on the first date.”

He chuckles into you, “This is our third date.”

“What?” you say, breathless, because he’s kissing a tender spot right under your jaw that’s driving you crazy.

“Those times I saw you at the coffee shop. Those were our first dates.” You know he’s just talking to make you feel better, but it’s definitely working. “Don’t worry about it, no judgement here.”

“You got it, Doc.” Jack stills. You think you fucked it. You curse yourself for making the corny joke.

He removes himself from your neck. Standing back to his full height. You try to not make eye contact, but his eyes chase yours, forcing you to. “Do you know how fucking crazy it makes me when you call me that.”

“No,” you choke out.

“I’ve never even been into that. Never cared. But the first time you called me that, I almost broke. I thought about it the rest of the day.”

“And the second time?” you quip, playing into his games.

He shakes his head, places his forehead on your chest, “Killing me, baby.”

You look down, and see how hard he is. His bulge is straining against his jeans.

He stands up again, “What do you wanna do, huh? Wanna keep playing games, or you wanna let me get you off?”

The bluntness of his statement– and eagerness– makes you feel like your heart has dropped to the bottom of your stomach. “The latter,”

“Say it,” he says. You shift on your feet, look straight down into the carpet. “I’m not gonna do it until you say it.”

“I want you to get me off.”

“Yeah, you do.” He kisses you again, deep, and hard. Your tongues clash. “Bedroom?” he asks.

You push off the door and start leading him to the back corner of the apartment. You thank yourself for picking up all the outfit options that you previously had sprawled on the ground.

You let yourself fall onto the bed, moving back until your head hits the headboard. Jack doesn’t miss a beat, he follows you all the way back, never removing his lips from yours. He settles his hips between yours, and you feel the bulge instead of seeing it. He softly grinds into you, just once, just to make sure you know how you’re making him feel. He has a hand gently resting on your throat, just to stabilize himself. You remove it and lead it down, you put it under the dress you had on. You knew you were soaked through, and this is how you were gonna show him what he was doing to you.

He groans into your mouth, “I have to taste you.”

You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t ask for words this time, just settles himself onto his stomach. You move down on the bed so your head can rest on the pillows. He doesn’t bother taking off your dress, just bunches it above your hips. He stares for a second, taking in the wet spot on your panties. Your hand moves an inch, going to take them off, but Jack grabs your wrist, presses it into the bed. He leans in and puts his tongue flat on you, through your underwear.

“Shit!” you squeak. Your ears ring. Fucking doctors, of course he’d be able to find the clit while you had underwear on, while everyone else you’ve been with, you’ve had to show them.

He grunts into you. Like he’s going crazy himself. Finally, he taps your hips, signalling for you to lift them. Of course, you do. “Already so good at following orders.”

The dominance leaking from his voice sends a wave of arousal through you. You imagined he would want to be in charge in bed, but he was so confident about it. It wasn’t shit he learned from watching too much porn— fake dominance that’s played up for the video. It was natural, it was who he was.

You can’t find words to answer him, you just keep following his orders, trying to make him proud.

“Y’sure you want this?” Jack triple checks.

“Please,” you’re breathless, already fucked out just from kissing him.

He doesn’t say anything, just places his tongue flat on your pussy, licking a long strip all the way to the top.

You moan, louder than your neighbors would prefer. Jack is so good at it, you go back to thinking you’re dreaming. It’s absurd how good it feels. He knows all the right spots to hit, all the places only you could ever find. But he found them, and he’s claiming them. You feel like you’re becoming his. He teases a digit at your entrance and you preen, giving him permission. He sinks it in and curls it. He sets a steady pace that falls in alignment with how vigorously he’s eating you out.

You already feel yourself getting close. You’ve never come this fast before— ever. Not even when you were doing it yourself. You can’t believe Jack is gonna beat your personal best.

“You’re close,” he says into you. The vibrations go all the way up from your pussy to your brain.

“Yes, I don’t know how, but yes. Please, I wanna come.” you ramble.

“Give it to me, I wanna see you fall apart, honey.” He adds a second finger and your back arches up off the mattress.

You squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see white instead of black. He works you all the way through your orgasm, “That’s it, good girl. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open. This man and his need for eye contact. He wants to see everything. He wants to read you. And he does. His brows furrow at your face. He looks down at your body. Still in that dress that drove him crazy when you opened the door.

He’s still letting his fingers pump inside of you when you come back to Earth. He stills them and pulls them out. You whine a little, he shushes you.

He makes sure you’re watching when he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking off the juices he just got out of you. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

Your face goes hot, you try to look away but Jack’s too quick, again. It’s like he knows what you’re gonna do before you do it. He grabs your jaw. “Haven’t you figured out I wanna see you?”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Then stop running.”

You huff out a breath. You lean up to kiss him again and he lets you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it’s hotter than you thought it could be. You’re under his spell. Hopefully he really likes you, because you think you might follow him around forever now.

You give up being coy, “I need you. Please, I need you, Jack.”

“Okay, you’ve got me. Don’t worry, honey,” he says.

You sit up and pull your dress over your head, unclasping your bra after. Jack takes his shirt off too. You lay back down and let your legs fall open. He hesitates before taking off his pants. You can sense he’s nervous. He takes the jeans off, and you see it. He looks at you, like he expects you to run. Like he expects the worst.

“Please,” is all you say. And that’s all it takes. Jack takes off his boxers, and his cock slaps up onto his stomach. It’s so long, the tip hits right below his belly button.

He climbs up onto the bed, your legs open wider for him. You throw Jack a condom from your bedside table and he puts it on quickly. He lines himself up, the tip kisses your entrance. Jack comes up to where your head is, pressing his forehead against yours. He breathes into the space between you for a second, then, he sinks in.

It’s deep, really deep. So fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He strokes so that he hits your g-spot, and he can tell he got it by the way you moan. It was more a sob, really He places his mouth on your nipple, slightly tugging with his teeth. He plays with it for a while before giving the other one the same attention. All while not breaking his pace. It felt so, fucking, good.

“So good, it feels so good.” you decide to tell him, to talk. You wanted to hear his voice.

“You feel so good. You’re sucking me in, baby. God, this pussy is even better than I imagined.” His chain dangles in your face, and you think you might be getting hypnotized.

“You thought about this?” you ask, trying to conceal your need for praise.

“For the past week, I’ve fucking thought about sinking my cock into you. You’re so beautiful. You’re so funny, and smart. You’ve got it all, baby. You’ve fucking got it all.”

The words send you reeling, “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long.”

“Me neither.” He grunts.

His head falls into your neck. He places a deep kiss there, leans up to your ear. “Come around my cock, sweetheart.”

You weren’t one to disobey his orders. You come for the second time that night and Jack follows. He groans into you and lets his chin hit your shoulder. “Fuck,”

You both stay there like that for a while. Sweating, panting, coming down from the high of your life.

“I’m gonna pull out, okay?”

You nod, let him do whatever he wants. You’re so fucked out you don’t know if you can even open your eyes.

He tosses the condom into the small trash bin beside your closet and grabs his boxers off the floor, putting them on before laying down beside you.

You look over and smile at him. You can’t stop smiling actually, or giggling.

Jack brushes your hair out of your face, “What’s so funny, hm?”

“That was so fucking good.”

Jack laughs, loudly. The loudest you’ve heard his laugh yet. “Yeah, it was so fucking good.”

You start to get shy, the highness of your orgasm wearing off, “I’d like to see you again, if you want.”

“Oh, honey. After that? You’re never getting rid of me.”

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