#I got distracted and ended up writing more than I intended

[cerealboxlore]

do you think that captain marvel plays off his using kids slang as part of him being omnilingual? better yet, imagine that he thinks that it doesn’t count but it actually does and he only finds out years later

i dont really have much to add to this but yeah

Oh I 1000% believe knowing slang/kids slang counts as part of his omnilingualism.

I see the reasoning behind this being that with omnilingualism comes the ultimate understanding of all languages and the ability to decipher them. With language comes formal and casual conversations and alternative versions of words that generations have created due to changes in society, environment and the eras/time. Slang and kids slang are all a part of the art of languages, so i see that it makes perfect sense for Captain Marvel to be able to understand them.

Adding onto that, if Captain Marvel's omnilingualism didn't include understanding of slang terms, then I believe Billy's influence as the vessel included those additional parts in the power. It's a little headcanon of mine that the mortal behind the power of the "Mightiest Mortal" is able to influence the powers they gain with their personality flare/unique identity. Since Billy is a homeless street kid, that left him more susceptible to hearing slang words from other people on the streets, mainly teens and kids from skateparks and parks (where he hangs out sometimes because no one will question him for being homeless there among other kids).

As for the slang words expansion pack not belonging at all to his omnilingualism and is in fact just Billy being a kid, then that would also be a barrel of fun to see! I can easily see members of the Justice League asking Captain Marvel what certain words their sidekicks/children text them, asking him to translate for them.

Green Latern (Hal): Hey, Cap, you're pretty immature right? By any chance do you know what "rizz" and "finstas" mean? We're trying to tell what this text means.

Captain Marvel (Billy, a little offended): First of all, harsh, didn't have to shade me like the dark side of the moon like that, but okay, go off, Salt Lantern. Second of all, bet, fam, say less.

Green Arrow (Oliver, feeling old): Oh God, did anyone even understand that?

Captain Marvel: Chillax, dude! Don't go crying in spanish.

Everyone else:

[sluttyten]

I need to put myself on a book buying ban

[highvern]

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter. 

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement. 

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding. 

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy— 

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back. 

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor. 

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop. 

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as  “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place. 

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough. 

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now. 

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation. 

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette. 

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” 

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth.  “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.” 

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs. 

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means. 

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music. 

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach. 

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name. 

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection. 

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct.  “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence. 

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance. 

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down. 

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin. 

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf. 

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his. 

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs. 

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation. 

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along. 

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.” 

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books. 

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months. 

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs. 

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch. 

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours. 

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again. 

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth. 

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull. 

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive. 

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder. 

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider. 

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted? 

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been. 

“They were out.” 

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing. 

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.” 

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?” 

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. 

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen. 

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning. 

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?” 

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back. 

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt. 

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg. 

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely. 

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head. 

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy. 

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth. 

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry. 

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down. 

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens. 

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load. 

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side. 

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth. 

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter. 

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school. 

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed. 

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument. 

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now. 

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[dxckgrxsonx]

mrs ma’am… dick pic jason todd is driving me up the WALL!!! please a spare crumb of our idiots 🙏🙏

they're back!! i was having withdrawal symptoms from not writing them for so long. this turned out smuttier than i intended. whoops.

**

He’s bored.

The constant string of messages serves as a concrete confirmation that he’s got too much time on his hands and that his mind has started to wander.

Part of you doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have a distraction from the last minute birthday party bustling around you. But that other part of you–that almost constantly nervous part–is wondering what exactly he’s up to.

Leave him alone for too long and he turns into something mischievous.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s found himself pulling a prank just because he’s nothing else to do.

First it was wrapping everything in your bedroom in tin foil. Second it was replacing all the photos in your apartment with pictures of Bob Ross. And the last prank he pulled was moving every single piece of furniture an inch to the left.

Your toes remind you of the pain that last prank caused and you’re quickly worried about what he might have planned this time.

It wouldn’t surprise you if he stole every single fork from your apartment and hid them in a stupid place. Hell, it wouldn’t faze you if you came home to find he’s changed the locks.

But you’re not expecting him to send you a photo.

The notification flashes up at the top of your screen and there’s a quick, sudden skip of your heart. You’ve found that it does that a lot lately when it comes to Jason. Found that there’s some niggling emotion you can’t quite unravel blooming behind your ribs.

He makes you nervous.

Hiding your phone from view you duck into a more quiet area of the party and open the message. A soft whine stumbles out from behind your teeth and you feel relentless heat kickstart in your gut.

He’s sprawled out on your bed.

And he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your mouth drops open and you almost start drooling at the sight of him. Between your legs aches and for a split second, you wonder if you could get away with rubbing one out right here. The fabric of your underwear starts getting damp, you feel it stick to the wet lips of your pussy and it’s just another sensation driving you half insane.

Jason’s hand can barely fit around his cock. The tips of his fingers almost don’t meet and you glance at your own hand, now filled with the knowledge that you would need to use both hands to jerk him off.

The head is flushed a deep red and the photo catches the slick shine of precum beading up from his slit. You want to taste him. You want him to taste you. Part of you can hardly breathe.

You: are you seriously jerking off in my fucking bed?? Jay: yup Jay: its a shame you're at that party Jay: i could've given you a show

An idea sparks white hot in your brain and there’s the edge of a smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth.

You: send me a video You: wanna watch you

Jason doesn’t reply and you shift from foot to foot. Impatient. Horny. Rubbing your thighs together to try and starve off the ache in your cunt, your eyes lock on the sign for the bathroom. Throwing a precautionary glance around you, you shift and beeline for the door, thankful that there’s no one lingering in the hall.

Locking yourself in a stall at the end you close the toilet seat and sit down, fingers drumming across your thigh.

Jay: sent a video

Opening it up you’re immediately greeted with a choked off moan. The camera shakes for the smallest second before it focuses and you feel yourself tighten up, feel your pussy leak an embarrassing amount of arousal into your underwear.

Stroking his cock from base to tip Jason’s hips kick up to meet his hand. All the muscles in his abdomen catch and release and the flex of them makes you sweat. Thick veins run up the underside of his shaft and when Jason drags his fingers over them, he twitches, cock slapping against his belly.

Spitting into his palm Jason fists the leaking tip and you watch as his spit runs down the length of him before dribbling over his balls. Squeezing at the head he groans and you whimper in response.

Fucking up into his tight fist you hear the wet squelch it makes and then, ever so softly, Jason says your name.

The video cuts off and you tip your head back.

You: you're trying to kill me aren't you?? You: all this because i ate the last of your cereal You: you should be ashamed

The bathroom door slams open and multiple giggling voices echo when your name is called out, “Are you in here? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. We’re cutting the cake, come on!”

“Yeah, I'm here. Give me a second.” You answer, trying to keep your voice level, even.

You: you're meeting me once this party is over right?? You: i'll save you some cake Jay: text me when you’re ready to leave and i’ll meet you outside Jay: i expect two pieces minimum to make up for eating my cereal Jay: anything less than that and i’ll remove all the towels from your apartment You: fuck you Todd You: also thanks for the video you look really pretty jerking off You: double also if you leave a mess on my bed i’ll kill you You:  🔪🔪🔪

**

[bluebeetless]

econ

ethan landry/reader

summary: you’re trying to help your boyfriend study using unique methods.

tags: cockwarming, riding, p in v sex, ethan is low-key a bottom in this, creampie, lowercase intended, sex in a chair, sex over a desk, aftercare, cuddling, minors dni

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, use of the word cunt, talks of ghostface at the end, (almost) panic attack at the end

smut under cut

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ bluebeetless’ writing ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

ethan whimpers, hands grabbing your waist, face buried in your shoulder. “pay attention.” you whisper, tapping the page with your pen. “sorry…” you hear your boyfriend whimper. right now, he’s rock hard and buried inside your soft cunt. you’re sat stationary in his lap, walls clenched around his throbbing cock. you’re trying to help him study for his end of year exam, which was easier said than done. ethan had a tendency to drift off, daydream, or get extremely distracted; so you came up with a more unique way to get his attention.

ethan’s chin rests upon your shoulder, he’s panting softly, breathing fanning over the left side of your face. “what’s the answer to this question?” you ask softly, tapping the page of your notebook. “uh..- b?” ethan asks. you smile softly. “well done baby.” you purr, ticking answer b. “please-“ ethan whines, hands squeezing your hips. “not yet baby, just a few more questions.” you move your non-dominant hand down so you could hold his hand, squeezing softly. he’s whining again, it’s very soft and desperate. “you’re doing so well for me, e. just answer these questions.” you try to pull his attention to the notebook, and so he abides. “a?” he doesn’t sound very confident, yet he got it correct either way.

instead of verbally praising him, you clench your walls around him, listening to his soft moans. “c’mon, sweetie, you can do it.” you encourage, listening to him regain his composure. “i cant- baby, please-“ ethan grinds up against you, whimpering uncontrollably. you roll your eyes, yet you’re smiling fondly. “you did very well today, e. i’m proud of you.” you mumble, closing your notebook. “can i have my reward now?” ethan asks, squeezing your hands as he practically vibrates in his desk chair. “alright, sweetheart.” you smile, leaning back against his chest as you angle your head to kiss his jaw. ethan let’s out a pornographic moan, bucking up against you as you roll your hips.

“feels good-“ he stammers, hands gripping yours tightly as you bounce in his lap. you can’t help your own soft moans as he throbs inside you, squeezing around his cock. “good boy, you’re fucking me so good.” you purr, letting him stand. ethan bends you over his desk, your tits pressing against the notebook, his chest heaving as he thrusts into you desperately. it’s your turn to whimper as his cock hits your g-spot perfectly, head lifting as ethan grabs your hair; something he learnt you had liked after a long night out. ethan moans loudly, and you’re glad that chad is out for the night. ethan’s hand moves under your hips, fingers finding your clit as he stimulates you.

“i wanna-“ he pauses to take a soft gasp. “wanna fun at the same time with you.” ethan whimpers, cock twitching harshly. you moan in response, hands gripping his desk to steady yourself. he thrusts into you so hard you feel your feet lift slightly, toes grazing against the floor as you lean on his desk. ethan groans, precum seeping into you. “close- m’close, eth.” you moan, legs spreading for him to give your boyfriend more room to rub your clit. “come on- fuckfuckfuck..!” ethan moans, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. the feeling of you cumming makes ethan come undone, his cum spilling into you. “good boy…” you can’t help but whisper softly as his fingers slow down, easing you through your orgasm in a way that made your body twitch and your cunt spasm.

ethan eases your feet onto the floor again, helping you stand up as he kisses your neck. “are you alright?” he asks softly, voice slightly slurred with lust. “mhm, i’m okay.” you reply, leaning back against his chest as his cum seeps down your thigh. “gonna go clean up. go get into bed, we can cuddle.” you turn, kissing his lips gently. ethan kisses you back immediately, and almost whines as you eventually pull away. you smile, thumb stroking his cheek as he kisses you once more before letting you go. ethan puts away his stuff before flopping onto his bed, settling into his soft covers.

you return, smiling as you join him. you lay half on top of ethan, head resting on his shoulder as your legs lay between his. tossing an arm over him, you hug your boyfriend tightly. “love you.” ethan mumbles, sleepily. “i know, baby. i love you too.” you reply, kissing his jaw. ethan hums, rolling over to cuddle into you. “get some sleep, e.” you mumble as he drapes the duvet over the two of you. “i love you.” he repeats, as if it were the lord’s prayer. “i love you too, ethan.” you respond, yawning slightly through your words. “i love you more.” he quips, yawning as well. “i love you sooo much more.” you giggle, kissing him to keep him silent. “goodnight, baby.” he mumbles, closing his eyes as you smile. “goodnight, eth.” you respond easily, lips pressing against his jaw and staying there.

closing your eyes, you fall asleep, huddling against your boyfriend as he stays awake for a while longer; listening to your calm breathing. he ponders for a while, about how he met you, how he began to date you- how he got so lucky. he begins to think about the plan his father hatched, how you were a target. ethan doesn’t think he could ever bring himself to hurt you. you seemed so closed off, so quiet- yet deep down you were tender and sweet, funny and kind. ethan loved you, with all his heart he loved you. “fuck…” he whispers softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “fuck- fuck… what am i gonna do..?” he panics a little, chest beginning to heave. you stir from your sleep, humming sleepily as you hug him tighter. ethan calms in your grip, cradling you close. “i won’t let them hurt you. i love you, baby.” ethan whispers, rolling over slowly so you were between him and the wall. you settle into the new position easily, burying your face in his neck.

how did he get so lucky?

[aliensupastar]

shouldn’t feel like a crime

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You finally try Carmy’s cooking. Follow-up to “not wrong, but not right”

Part I Part III

Warnings: minor angst, comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food and eating, healing?

A/N: first off, thank you all so much for the love on the first part! i wrote it as a comfort during a difficult time and it was so nice to see people enjoy it. i didn’t intend on writing more for it, but a few people asked for it and i finally got an idea for a follow-up! as a disclaimer, i wrote most of this before season 2 came out and edited it afterwards, but there are no spoilers. gif by emziess <3

Carmy is a good boss. You know this, you’ve known it for months. His sometimes-abrasive idiolect aside, he runs the restaurant like he cares about every brick that built it, every burner the crew uses to make each dish, every ticket that comes through that god-forsaken machine on the expo station. It makes any screaming match easily forgivable, and any nightmare lunch rush endurable. 

What you didn’t know was that Carmy could also be a good friend. Since your stint in the emergency room he’s made good on his agreement with you, without ever being overwhelming. He’s instead mercifully subtle. There’s a few bottles of lemonade kept in the office’s mini-fridge now, for when you get dizzy. He’s lent you that coat of his a few times, when the night air ends up chillier than you predicted that morning, and you’ve left your own jacket at home. And he never fails to give you a look, during the busiest hours at the restaurant, communicating quickly, and quietly: Are you good? And you know if the answer is no, he’ll let you take a breather without a single complaint, but you always respond with a quick nod and push through the rest of the shift.

In turn, you do your best not to worry him. You take vitamins and get better sleep and try to stop pushing yourself to the brink of passing out. You even eat one of your safe foods in front of him, at family while everyone else enjoyed the samosas Ebrahaim had cooked up that day, and for once it felt good to eat; the constant playful bickering and banter a welcome distraction from the usual stress that follows your meals. 

It’s nice. Maybe you don’t necessarily feel like you’re getting better, just more… stable. Less like you’re in a free-fall and more like you’ve got both feet on solid ground. 

When you go to leave after closing up one night and find that it’s raining, impeding you from making your usual trek to the train station, you turn back and head to the office. And a few months ago, you might’ve been too nervous around Carmy to even ask to stay in the restaurant an extra hour, preferring to brave the cold rain and let your clothes get soaked and heavy rather than hang around. You’re relieved, now, to find Carmy right where you left him when you said goodnight just a minute ago, ready to save you from a miserable trip home. 

“What’s up?” He asks when he spots you. 

“It’s raining.” You tell him, nodding your head in the direction of the back door. “Didn’t bring an umbrella. Do you mind if I stick around for a bit, just ‘till it stops?” 

“Yeah, it’s no problem, I’ll be here finishing up for a while, anyway,” He says, then continues after a brief pause. “Y’know you really gotta stop relying on that iPhone weather app.”

You scoff, shaking your head at his teasing. 

“You know I’m too lazy to start using another one.”

“I’m just sayin’.” He pushes out of his chair and walks past you, into the kitchen, grabbing a sponge and the container of soap water he uses to clean the countertops. 

“You want help?” You offer, already taking off your coat and tossing it onto the office chair. 

“Nah, you already clocked out. Don’t worry about it.” He replies, not even looking up as he begins to scrub, but you pick up a sponge anyway and get to work on the counter behind him. 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a while after that, only broken by the sound of rough sponges scraping away at the grime and the faint patter of rain on the roof of the building, and part of you wishes you had more opportunities for this. More time spent with him, outside of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, even if it’s spent cleaning. His presence has become something you’d rather not avoid, even if it makes your heart race; the unique scent of him on the coat you’ve borrowed is becoming familiar, comforting. 

“Glad it wasn’t busy today.” Your train of thought is interrupted by his sudden comment, but you quickly nod. 

“Practically a miracle, for a Friday.” You agree, hearing him chuckle behind you. 

“Didn’t need that shit today, anyways, not while I’m on,” He says. He was working the stovetop today, alongside Sydney, making an efficient team as they churned out dishes quicker than the customers could file in. It made your day a little easier, the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen while you savored the downtime granted by the slow day. 

“I’ve never tried your cooking,” You say offhandedly, but your words make him pause and look back at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Really?” He asks, and you nod. “You’ve worked here for months, though.” 

“I know.” You shrug. 

“How come?” 

That makes you stop scrubbing, turning slightly to look at him. 

“Think you know the answer to that one, chef.” You tease, before continuing to work. He huffs out a laugh, but keeps staring at your back while you scrub. 

“I could make you something.” He finally says, and it makes you truly stop, turning to face him fully. 

“Y’all just cleaned this whole kitchen.” Now it’s his turn to shrug. 

“I don’t mind.” You give him an incredulous look.

“I- If you think I’m gonna help you clean the stove and the plates again, you’re wrong.” Carmy just shakes his head, tossing his sponge back into the container of water and grabbing a few clean pans. 

“C’mon, I can’t have you walking around saying you’ve never tried the food at the restaurant you work at,” He says. “You like spaghetti?”

He’s casual in the way he asks, but you’re still standing by the counter, eyebrows raised in shock. Your mind is starting to race, the way it does every time you’re faced with food, but Carmy’s already pouring olive oil into a saucepan and brandishing his chef knife to chop an onion. 

You approach the stove he’s standing at carefully, like it might just burst into flames, and you can already smell the familiar scent of garlic and olive oil and god, he’s only been at it for a minute and it already smells like heaven in this kitchen. 

“Smell good?” 

“Yeah,” You practically breathe out. “Shit, smells amazing.” 

He smiles at that, a rare thing to see on his face. He’s thoughtful for a moment, before saying:

“This is, uh, Mikey’s recipe, actually.” 

Your eyes widen, a bit taken aback by his mention of his late brother. At least, his mention of Mikey to you. 

You’d learned about what happened to Michael just a few weeks after being hired, after having witnessed the heavy silence that overtook the room when he’d been mentioned, and asking Marcus after work what all that had been about. Since you received your explanation, you’ve tried to mind your own business when the melancholy that came with Michael’s memory returned, giving those who seemed to know him best room to process before getting back to work. 

Carmy’s never talked about Mikey to you directly; no one has. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Mikey, that’s… your brother, right?” You ask hesitantly, even if you already know the answer before Carmy nods. 

“Yeah. He used to run this place, before it was The Bear.” He tells you. 

“Before?” Your confusion and surprise seeps into your tone. “What was it before?”

“Still a restaurant, but, quick service. Italian sandwiches. We weren’t called The Bear, we were-“ He chuckles, caught up in reminiscing. “We were called The Original Beef of Chicagoland.” 

“No shit! This used to be The Beef?” He nods his confirmation and you’re instantly brought back, the memory faded like an old photo that’s been shoved into storage and forgotten. The only thing that wasn’t hard to recall was the sandwich you’d ordered, practically dripping with flavor, the exact kind of comfort food you’d needed that day.

“Been here before?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just- I didn’t recognise it.” You’d sat at a table across from the friend that dragged you to the slightly shabby establishment, silently relishing in the deliciousness of your food before the panic could set in, so enraptured by it you didn’t even care about the booming voice coming from behind a door that presumably led to the kitchen. Not even when the person it belonged to came out to the front and-

“Mikey, was he like, tall? Black hair?” You suddenly ask, gesturing how tall you’d remembered the man being, and now Carmy’s the one that’s confused. 

“Uh, yeah. You- you knew Mikey?” He sounds a little breathless when he asks, but you shake your head. 

“No, but when I came here before, he was still running the place, I guess. And just… loud as shit. Hard to ignore,” You look up and meet Carmy’s eyes. “Hard to forget.” 

You both share a laugh at that, at the memory of his brother that he loved, and that you barely even knew. 

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like him.” The sweet smile stays on his face as he chops and sautées, refusing to let you do more than start boiling the spaghetti for him. All you can do is watch the pasta and watch him as he navigates his brother’s recipe like it’s pure muscle memory. 

As much as you like to steal glances at him during opening prep, you don’t get to see as much of him during service hours. You’re just as busy working front-of-house, keeping people happy and keeping Richie off your ass, as he is while he’s trying to keep up on dishes. You don’t get a ton of chances to see him like this, in his element. He plates the finished spaghetti perfectly, in two bowls, so you know he won’t let you eat alone. 

Still, the anxiety in your stomach rises when you accept the fork Carmy hands you, and you can’t help but pause. He does, too, and you know he easily recognises the cause of your trepidation. 

“What’s up?” He asks, his voice gentle. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the conflict in your mind, but you can’t stop yourself from saying it. 

“Do you… just, maybe have an idea of-“

“I have no clue how many calories are in this.” He answers your question before you can even ask it, and you can’t help but let out a breath of amusement — at yourself, at him for somehow knowing. 

It’s his gentle smile, one that lacks judgment or pity, that pushes you to finally swirl the spaghetti around your fork and take a bite and-

Oh my god. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes you during that first bite, ignoring Carmy’s chuckle at your slight dramatics. You can see why he’s hot shit in the restaurant world; the dish barely looked fancy or complicated when he’d made it, certainly not as complicated as anything on the menu, but somehow it tastes better than any pasta you’ve ever had. You would say you’re in disbelief, but you don’t pause long enough to think about anything but this, how amazing every flavor bursting on your tongue is.

Carmy finishes his pasta before you do, but he stands next to you till your bowl is empty, before taking it over to the dish pit and beginning to scrub down all the dishware he’d used. And you stand there for a second, staring at his back, unable to process all the emotion filling you as he washes your bowl. The bowl he let you get dirty, because he wanted you to be able to try his food. 

The utter warmth flooding your senses is almost overwhelming.

Then, despite your earlier protests, you pick up the sponge he abandoned earlier and get to scrubbing the stovetop down again. You ignore the few warm tears that escape your waterline in the process. 

You mindlessly follow Carmy around as he walks through each room, shutting off lights and locking the front entrance and office doors. When you inevitably make your way to the back exit, you push open the door only to find that it’s still raining, worse than it was hours ago. You can only sigh and lean your head against the doorway in defeat. 

“Need a ride?” Carmy offers easily. 

You think back to the frame that sits on the countertop out front, holding a slightly crumpled index card: “I love you, dude. Let it rip.” Words you’ve seen nearly every day since your first on the job; you just now realize they’re probably Michael’s.

It feels like too much. The letting you stick around, the pasta, the… everything. 

You nod anyways, accepting Carmy’s offer, letting him lead you to his car, and he lets you lead the way home.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Lots of love if you write this, and lots of love if you don’t!

Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?

Note: this is a cute idea! I might write a different version of this one later <3 not sure how I feel about it. This ended up a lot more angst and has a lot more of an argument than I originally intended tbh

Another note: I usually write in past tense but this one has both past and present tense. It’s lightly proofread but I apologize if I missed any errors in past vs present tense!

Summary: Every since he first saw you he’s seemingly had it out for you. All that frustration comes to a head when you have to go rescue him from the side of the road.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Daryl bring a Dickson, profanity, TWD typical non graphic violence, guns

        Daryl stepped into the RV for a gun, shaking his head with annoyance at the sight of your failure. Well, multiple failures. See, you started with a standard Glock, but the recoil spring in that one was too hard to set in place. Then, you switched to the Beretta, where you found your current firing pin spring issue. 

        Daryl stared down at all the bits and pieces sprawled on the table in front of you. 

        “Y’gon’ take every damn gun apart ‘til we ain’t got none when we need ‘em?” He complained. You glared. 

        “Well, excuse me if taking apart guns to clean them wasn’t my hobby of choice before shit hit the fan.” You shot back. 

        That day was the beginning of a long standing feud between the two of you. A feud that was frankly one sided. You never had a problem with the smelly hunter. In fact, you often made meager attempts at impressing him or even going as far as to be friendly. Unfortunately, you were always met with rude snark and bitterness. 

        One time, at the CDC, you had a little too much wine with dinner. You were stumbling through the hall, attempting to find the room you had previously claimed, when you had the misfortune of walking right into Daryl. 

        “Oh! I’m sorry.” You giggled. 

        “Damn it.” He grumbled with an annoyed sigh. “Can’t ya watch where the hell you’re goin’?”

        “I’m sorry, really—“ You tried to apologize again but he had no intentions of hearing it.

        “Don’t drink if ya can’t handle yourself.” He snapped. “Got the dead roamin’ the damn earth and you get shit-faced the first damn chance ya get!”

        In your drunken, emotional state, you sniffled and cried quietly to yourself that night. Why was he always so damn mean? You missed your friends and family so much, and you couldn’t even bare to think about your cat.

        When Sophia got lost everything was worse. You’d offer to help with the search and you’d always hear the same response; “I already got one little kid to look for. I don’t need two.” 

        You also tried to console him when Sophia’s body came staggering out of that barn. 

        “You’re a great tracker, Daryl. We were all just too late.” You’d say. 

        “Ain’t no we! You didn’t do shit but stay back and twiddle your fuckin’ thumbs! Get on somewhere. I don’t need your caudlin’.”

        When the farm fell, he’d always snap at you for lagging behind the group when you were on the move. You couldn’t help it. You were so tired and hungry.  

        “Keep up, damn it. Can’t afford to keep slowin’ down!” 

        When you were all clearing the prison, he wouldn’t even let you shoot. 

        “Jus’ stay back and hit the fence. Distract ‘em. You can’t shoot for shit.” 

        Since then, you reasoned to just avoid him. You’d never met anyone who could make you feel so bad about yourself. You decided to stop asking yourself why he hated you. You weren’t going to try and change it anymore. You were just going to exist the best you could, as far away from him as the prison yard would allow. 

          Which brings us to now. Inventory is your main task at the prison. Some people make it hard. Carl never checks out his weapons, nor does Daryl. But with Carl losing his mom and Daryl being such an ass, you never say anything. You just make notes on the weapons they’re most likely to take without telling you. 

        Beth sometimes grabs formula without letting you know, but taking care of a baby is hard work for a teenage girl to be doing full time. You have no intentions of nagging her. So, as usual, you just check your inventory every day and report to Rick or Hershel, usually the latter. 

        When your inventory is done for the afternoon, you decide to find Carol and help her with laundry. Maggie is on the tower today with Glenn, so she’s all by herself out there scrubbing everyone’s smelly clothes. 

        “Hey. Need some help?” You ask her, pressing your lips into a thin smile. She returns the same expression and nods. 

        “Please? For such a small group we sure go through a lot of clothes.”

        “No problem.” You say as you get down on your knees and begin scrubbing and ringing out a pair of jeans. “Jeez. These really stink.” You mumble. Carol giggles. 

        “Daryl.” She sighs. 

        “Does he ever shower?” 

        “I mean.. never would be a strong word. Rarely, though, that might be the accurate description.” She jokes. You chuckle.

        “Hey, (Y/N)?” Rick asks as he approaches you. You look up from Daryl’s stained jeans. “Could you take a car out to the main road? Daryl’s broken down out there. He can’t carry all those supplies back.” 

        “Me?” You raise your eyebrows, tossing a quick glance to Carol. If anyone is accustomed to your strained relationship with the archer, it’s her. Daryl would often complain about you to her, and she’d just as often give you a reassuring pat on the shoulder when she’d notice his harsh treatment. 

        “Well, yeah, if ya don’t mind.” Rick nods. He is a little more oblivious to how rude Daryl can be toward you, but he isn’t  blind to the visible tension the two of you share. He just assumes it was never that serious. 

        “Um.. Sure.” You shrug. A pit in your stomach is already festering, growing bigger as it feeds on your anxiety. You had been very successful at avoiding Daryl since you’d been at the prison. The only solace you find is in the fact that you had grown more confident since you guys found this place. Being in charge of inventory gave you a much needed sense of control. From there, you realized just how much you really did have control over, and soon enough the scared girl you once were had become a productive young woman. Now, you have to put that confidence to the test, facing the man who kind of stole what little faith in yourself you had to begin with. You vow to yourself that today will be the day you stand your ground to Daryl Dixon.

        You brush off your jeans and accept the keys from Rick before making your way to the vehicle parked near the gates. When you start the engine, Carl drags open one gate, then the other, and you head out. You notice Daryl right away when you make it to the main road. He’s smoking a cigarette, leaned up against the red truck he had taken into town. 

         You can’t help but wonder why he was on a run by himself to begin with. It isn’t like Rick to send anyone off on their own. Then again, knowing Daryl, it’s not that hard to figure out why he might be a solo kind of guy. 

        You pull the car up beside the truck. He glances up at the vehicle but immediately looks back down at the ground when he realizes it’s you. He makes sure to seem indifferent. 

        Instead of letting his lack of a greeting (or gratitude) phase you, you just step out of the driver’s seat and pop the trunk open before approaching the bed of the truck and beginning to transfer all of his loot into the car. When the trunk fills up, you resort to packing the back seat. 

        By the time Daryl finishes his cigarette, he notices there are a few more items still in the truck. He huffs and impatiently grabs the three items, shoving them in the back seat and slamming the door shut, mumbling something about you taking your sweet time. 

        “What was that?” You speak up before sitting back down in the driver’s seat. 

        “Move over. I’m drivin’.”

        “That’s not what you said, first of all. And no. I drove here just fine, I can drive back.” You roll your eyes. 

        “Quit bein’ difficult damn it! I’m tired. Been workin’ all day out there riskin’ my neck.” He snaps. 

        “I’ve been working too.” You shrug, sitting down and starting the engine. 

        “Scribblin’ on a clipboard ain’t nothin’ like what I do.” He argues, still standing by the driver side, waiting for you to give in and let him drive. You won’t, though. You won’t cave in and bow to him like a puppy with its tail between its legs like you used to. He lost the privilege of your kindness — or maybe cowardice — a while ago. 

        “Actually, I woke up and spent two hours on the fence impaling skulls, then I helped Hershel hoe the ground for spring crops before I scrubbed the common area of the cell block on my hands and knees. Then I did inventory, then I washed your smelly ass jeans. So, no, I don’t just scribble on a clip board.” You correct him. “And, while we’re on that subject, you’re supposed to check out your fucking weapons. Would make the scribbling part a lot easier for me.” 

        He clenches his jaw and his fists at your insubordination. 

        “I don’t know when you grew a smart ass mouth but I ain’t got time for it so quit your bitchin’ and move outta my seat.” He demands. 

        “Or you could stop wasting time and just get in the passenger seat.” You roll your eyes. 

        “God, do you ever stop bein’ such a damn burden?!” He shouts. You run your tongue over your teeth and nod. 

        “Burden?” You repeat. 

         “Yeah. A burden.” He drawls. “As in, makin’ shit harder for everyone around you.” 

        “Hmm.” You hum thoughtfully. “Okay.” 

        With that simple response, you shut off the engine, toss the keys on the ground beside him, and stand up. With your knife in your belt for protection, you start walking toward the woods. You realize that he is absolutely unbearable. You won’t subject yourself to even a five minute car ride with him. 

        “Where the hell are you goin’?!” He calls out after you. You ignore him. “C’mon, (Y/N), get in the damn car!” 

        By this point you’re blending into the trees and he’s losing sight of you. He groans and slams the car door shut, snatching the keys off the asphalt before he marches off after you. He swears when he gets his hands on you, he’s dragging you back by your ankles and cramming you in the trunk with the rest of the shit he looted today.

        “(Y/N)!” He shouts. You sigh. 

        “Fuck off! You wanted to drive so bad, be my guest! Whole car to yourself!” You call back. 

        “Quit bein’ so damn—“

        You whip around, eyes blaring with fury. 

        “So what? Burdensome? Annoying? Stupid?” You cut him off, recalling some of the insults he had bestowed upon you in the past. “I’m so fucking sick of you! All I ever did was try to be nice to you! And all you ever gave me in return was cruelty!”

         You’re shaking now. He’s stopped a few feet away from you, silent as you unleash your pent up frustrations on him. 

        “You know,” you begin, not as loud and shrilled as before. “I didn’t even want to come help you. Because I knew it would be like this. I only came because I was asked to. So you wouldn’t have to try to carry shit back to the prison and go through more trouble. I didn’t talk to you, I didn’t try to be friendly or otherwise vexing. Yet, somehow, that wasn’t good enough. If my presence alone makes you so miserable, then I’ll walk.” 

        With that, you turn around and start storming back toward the prison. 

        “(Y/N)—“ He tries to protest but it just triggers another wave of anger. 

        “What?!” You throw your hands up. “What did I ever do to you?! Just leave me alone!” You shout, turning back to him. “Why do you hate me?!” 

        “I don’t hate you!” He fires back. 

        You scoff and cross your arms. “Sure seems like it.” 

        “Well if ya would just listen to me I wouldn’t get so mad!” 

        “I’m not your fucking dog, Dixon! I shouldn’t have to listen to you for you to treat me like a human being.” 

        “Treat you like what?” He scoffs. “All I ever did was try and look out for ya! Ya can’t do anything right! How the hell am I supposed to keep ya safe if ya can’t follow a simple fuckin’ direction?”

        “Look out for me? How? By making me feel like shit about myself? Reminding me every chance you get how much you just can’t fucking stand me? You don’t treat anyone else like that. Nobody.” Your eyes are watering now. The rage is slowly wearing down into what it really is at its core: hurt. He hurt you time and time again and you always tried to make it right, even when you had done nothing wrong. Shit, (Y/N), get it together. Don’t let him see you like this. 

        “Well why the hell are ya so worried ‘bout what I think?” He asks. 

        “I don’t know!” You snap, turning away from him again. You hug yourself and sniffle. “Just leave me alone.” You beg quietly. “Go drive yourself back. I’d rather walk.” 

        He stands there silently, mouth opening and closing like he has words to say but can’t find them in his sea of thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you cry. He doesn’t even know why you piss him off so much. He does know that seeing you there, hugging yourself as your shoulders rise and fall with silent whimpers makes him feel like shit. He steps toward you slowly, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch and he retracts his arm. 

        “I don’t hate ya.” He finally speaks. When you don’t respond he realizes he has to continue. “I just don’t want ya gettin’ hurt.”

        “Yeah, right.” You mumble. “All you do is hurt me.”

        He swallows a dry lump. Is that true? 

        “I don’t mean to.” He insists. “I just.. Ya don’t belong in this world. You’re nice. Ya ain’t violent, you’re pret—“ He stops. Your ears perk up. Was he about to call you pretty?

         “What I’m tryin’ to say is… Ever since I first saw ya I knew ya had to be looked after — kept safe. Ya ain’t like most people. I’d feel too bad if ya… If ya got hurt.” He admits softly. You turn your head a little, peeking behind you to try and catch a glimpse of him. 

        His hand finds your shoulder again and this time you don’t shrug him away. You sniffle and wipe your eye clean of tears. 

        “So you’re mean to me to protect me?” You summarize. He realizes how stupid that must sound. 

        “I just get frustrated when I see how vulnerable ya are. Can’t clean a gun and put it back together, can’t aim to save your life, can’t—“

        “Couldn’t.” You correct him. “I couldn’t do those things, but I’ve learned how. You just haven’t been around to see it. Or encourage it.” 

        He nods. “‘M sorry.” He mumbles. “Maybe you could, uh, show me sometime.” 

        “Show you what?” You turn back to him. 

        “Dunno.” He shrugs. It’s a lot harder for him to speak freely when you’re actually looking at him. “What ya can do.”

         “Oh.” You nod. “Maybe you could stop being such an asshole.” You suggest. 

        He smirks a little. 

        “I can try.”

Join the taglist || Masterlist

Tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck

[kaeyats]

Can we see the Liyue characters reaction to the marriage rumor 👀 I can absolutely imagine Ninguang going all out while Xiao has no idea what to do but knows he should do something to catch your attention. All the while poor poor Zhongli is suddenly regretting not having access to the same luxuries he had as an archon so he could spoil you

SAGAU,, the creator's bride/groom (part 2)

a/n: was actually in the process of writing this, but i was so happy to get some interaction from my genshin blog. this is my very first ask, ackk! i got so excited i wrote everything down in one sitting. thank you so much for the ask!!

a rumor that the almighty creator of teyvat is in the process of choosing a spouse spreads like wildfire. and all their acolytes start sucking up to them like insane. liyue edition! mondstadt edition here.

reader's gender is not specified, as with most of my works. requests and imagines in my ask box are appreciated, but will take a while. :D

warnings: none

way before whispers of the creator's newest affairs were heard in mondstadt, way before those very words that caused a ferocious storm even reached the ears of the anemo archon, the rumors of the creator's supposed interest in marriage had already been quite rampant in liyue. trending was an understatement, not when every tongue within the lands of geo had spoken about their god's affairs regarding engagement and such.

everyone in liyue was buzzing when they heard the news. some feeling quite happy for the creator and some gearing up for the absolute war that would come the next few days. after all, the creator was currently staying in liyue harbor which practically screamed "OPPORTUNITY" for anyone in liyue who was interested.

safe to say, a certain former archon ended up choking on his food when he heard the news from the director of the wangsheng funeral parlor. zhongli didn't know if he was dreaming or not, the recent rumors too similar to one of his many fantasies with you. the only thing he needed now was for you to bust into the funeral parlor and propose to him, then he'd be fully convinced he was dreaming. but alas, no creator had appeared and no busting in had occured. and seconds later, his mind foggily returned to reality. he processed the information, at least he tried to, unable to grasp much for the next few minutes. immediately, he stood up, heading towards the direction of the hotel you were staying in. hu tao was a bit confused when the usually-composed-man left the room and said nothing, looking rather dazed. he originally intended to ask you if the rumors were true, wanting to take a rational approach, but the sight of all your acolytes clinging to you in a pathetic attempt to win you over had his head empty with jealousy. he was all too tempted to take the form of morax and persuade you with his endless and very valuable resources.

ningguang knew before most common folk, a characteristic move for the opportunistic businesswoman who had connections in almost every street of liyue. however, she did not expect your other followers to know as well when she descended from the jade palace to pay you a visit. behind her were many of her servants, carrying boxes decorated with intricate golden designs. it was quite obvious that whatever was inside each of those boxes cost quite a lot. the boxes themselves looked like they cost more than any of liyue's merchants' organs. however, they were barely acknowledged by you when the 11th harbinger stole you away once again, distracting you from ningguang's elegant presence with his mindless chatter.

the moment childe heard of your supposed interest in marriage, he decided then and there to make it his mission to bother you until your other suitors would eventually fend off. at first, it was questions about your interests and things you liked. he kept a mental list of all he learned that day, disappointed in himself for not knowing any sooner due to how busy he was all the time. the job of a fatui harbinger wasn't the easiest, after all. he considered the possibility that maybe if he got married to you, his service to the tsaritsa would be allowed an end and he could spend the rest of his years exploring the world by your side. he was quite content with listening to your ramblings and daydreaming about what it'd be like to be your lover, even more so your spouse. the moment the tianquan entered your room though, childe decided he would be a menace, wanting to push the rich woman's buttons until she would eventually give up on pursuing you.

ningguang was usually a very patient woman, but something about the ginger irked her in all the wrong ways. she couldn't handle the way he blatantly flirted with you, leaving subtle touches on your body. she could only glare at his hand as she took quiet sips of her tea from across where the two of you were seated. ningguang internally praised you for being such a kind and understanding god because if she was in your place, she would've smacked the fatui harbinger away by now. it was like she wasn't even in the room anymore with how much childe had been hogging you. she couldn't begin to imagine the pain of zhongli whose presence you haven't even noticed yet.

matters were only made worse by the fact that ganyu, someone ningguang thought she would never view as a rival entered your room without knocking, a faint blush on her cheeks. "[name], i happened to stumble into your favorite flowers and thought that maybe-" instead of your happy and accommodating smile, she was greeted with the three harshest glares she had ever encountered in her whole life. ganyu had heard of the rumors, yes, but she wasn't one to believe rumors so easily, so she paid them no mind unlike the three other figures in your room.

"oh, ganyu! what brings you here?" you left your place next to childe (an action that warranted a rather bitter look on his face), giddily wrapping your arms around ganyu to greet her. it seemed that she was much too flustered to answer your question and had completely forgotten how to form coherent words when you wrapped your arms around her. not that you minded. her facial expressions were quite funny to watch.

"ganyu, it's a pleasant surprise meeting you here. although i must say, it's quite rude how you just barged in here and called the creator by the first name. i'm sure you have better manners than that." ningguang spoke from her seat, directing her gaze away from you and ganyu, knowing that she would only get angrier by the second if she did. venom, rather poorly hidden, dripped from her words and it seemed to intimidate the poor girl next to you.

"no! no! it's fine, i told ganyu she could do that."

"barge into your room? or call you by your name?" childe asked from his seat, sounding sarcastic, but truthfully unable to stop himself from wondering.

"both. also, i've been asking all of you call me by my name, it just so happens that ganyu was the first to listen."

zhongli seemed to have more luck the next day when he happened to run into you in the streets of liyue harbor early in the morning.

"oh? [name]? i didn't expect to see you here so early in the morning." just uttering your name felt like violating a forbidden taboo to zhongli. but after yesterday's encounter, he thought that maybe you truly did like to be called by your name and you weren't just saying things as a test of respect.

"oh! xiao went to my room last night and invited me to a picnic near wangshu inn. i just thought it'd be more convenient if i started traveling there earlier, you know?"

"that sounds (unacceptable, he wanted to say. how could your other acolytes just let you wander alone?) a bit unsafe, your- [name]. if you don't mind, i can assist you to wangshu inn to reassure that you arrive there in one piece."

you would've refused zhongli's offer in any other scenario, but after practically ignoring his existence yesterday, you accepted as a way to apologize. perhaps you could ease his mind with a little bit of conversation. surely that would be enough to pay for your mistake yesterday.

now, xiao had absolutely no idea how courting worked. he tried going around the inn, looking for books, anything, that could assist him with the topic. perhaps you would like dead offerings? should he got hunting for wild animals? or would you rather he seduce you with his body like in those e-ro-ti-ka books he found somewhere around the inn? he felt defeated, not knowing what to do once you arrived for your little picnic date. things would've been much easier had he had rex lapis as a guide and an advisor, he thought to himself, so imagine his surprise once he spotted rex lapis' mortal form walking with you towards him.

zhongli was certainly planning on sabotaging your supposed friend date with xiao, scheming in his head how he would steal you away from the adeptus, using those moments to win you over. and when you two spent a few hours in pleasant conversation, walking side-by-side, ever so often smiling at each other and giddily laughing, he was pretty sure he was going to go through with his plan, despite the initial guilt he felt for sabotaging a close friend. however, when he saw the way xiao's cheeks grew ever-so-pink at the way you hugged him the moment you saw him and the way a smile threatened to break through the usually-stoic-man's facade, he decided to leave you two alone to bond, letting xiao have his moment with you.

zhongli sat quietly in wangshu inn's restaurant, plates empty as he wondered what you and xiao were up to at that very moment. the good food lessened the sting he felt, jealousy clawing at his insides. he shouldn't regret his decision, he told himself. not when alatus looked so elated to be around you. he nodded to himself, yes, this is the right thing to do.

looking down at his empty plate, that is when he realized he has no mora with him.

[discordantwritings]

Rock Hard (Rock Band! Cross Guild x Reader)

Pt. 3 The Guitarist

Prelude // The Vocalist // The Guitarist

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, semi-public sex, Buggy is a Problem, possessive Mihawk, fingering, oral sex, no Crocodile yet but soon

WC: 2.4k

Summary: So, you slept with the main singer of Cross Guild, who is also your boss. It’s fine. No one will know.

Except Mihawk, Mihawk finds out pretty fast.

Notes: I got distracted for (checks calendar) 2 months but I swear I’m not abandoning anything

Tagging: @keiva1000

“And then you have the meeting with possible collaborators at the end of your day.”

“And why am I doing that instead of Crocodile?” Mihawk asks from behind his desk.

“Because he is busy scouting concert venues.” You explain, clipboard held to your chest.

“And Buggy?”

“I think why we know Buggy isn’t doing it.”

He pauses, rolling his eyes. “We do. Fine. But make sure I have the recording studio booked for Friday and nothing interrupting it.”

“Of course. Any other schedule requests?” You ask, jotting down his demands.

“No just that.” He waves a dismissive hand and you politely nod and head to the door.

“Oh- one more question.” His words stop you and you turn on your heels back to him.

“Are you fucking the clown?”

You nearly drop your clipboard in shock, brain trying to process the absurd question before it quickly turns into a sharp embarrassment. There isn’t time to get out any words before Mihawk is speaking again.

“That answers that then.” His voice is flat but you can hear the slight edge of disappointment.

“It was only once and I swear it will never happen again.” It was the truth- since your moment with him in his office a few weeks ago nothing has happened. Sure he would grab your ass when no one was looking but there hasn’t been a spare moment where the two of you could do anything more.

“Look, I don’t care who you sleep with. As long as you don’t let it interfere with your work it’s fine.” You would feel relieved if you still weren’t drowning in embarrassment. “I’m just surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can manage, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s unbecoming.”

You can only nod as you slip out of his office in shame.

The next few days everything is normal, and neither you nor Mihawk acknowledge the brief conversation that had happened. You felt the information prickling at the back of your brain every time you were in the vicinity of Mihawk though, knowing how much he was judging you for you indiscretion.

But true to his word he didn’t seem to care as long as it didn’t affect your work. You treated Buggy the same as everyone else, even if his hands and gaze wandered constantly. So, while you remained professional, Buggy didn’t. It wasn’t a surprise to you but an annoyance as he grew bolder and bolder with each passing day.

Like now right now, while you’re sitting down for a meeting with all of The Cross Guild and some investors. You and the band are all sitting on one side of a long table while three business men sit across from you. Today you’re a glorified note taker as Crocodile handles most of the business, sitting and writing between Buggy and Mihawk. You don’t mind it too much- at least until Buggy starts to fool around.

You wanted to stab him with your pencil the instant you felt his hand creep onto your thigh. Restraining yourself you instead shoot him a glare which falls painfully short of your intended effect. The clown just smiles at you as his hand creeps further up your leg. Your hand tightly clasps on top of his to stop his movements but he’s more nimble than you give him credit for, easily sliding out of your hold and darting to what he can manage to grab of your ass.

You’ve missed a minute or so of conversation so despite the hand on you, you try to focus back in on the conversation- only to find Mihawk staring at you. There’s a long moment of eye contact before his gaze darts down to where Buggy’s hand is and back up to you. You’re mortified and try your best to silently convey to Mihawk that you’re sorry and it’s all Buggy’s fault.

There must be something he understands because you feel him look slightly beyond you to where Buggy is sitting and glare- hard. The hand quickly retracts and you’re able to relax slightly and focus back in on your work. You manage to figure out most of what you missed and the meeting is quickly finished much to your relief. You need to go scream in an empty room.

After politely shaking hands with everyone and handing over your notes to Crocodile you dart out into the hallway to go back to your office- only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn around and see Buggy with a shit eating grin plastered on his painted face.

“We running off somewhere?” He uses his hold on you to pull you in close.

“Buggy I swear to god-“ You look around, making sure no one else has come out of the room yet. “If anyone sees us-“

“Then what?” He moves and you back up, your back hitting the wall. “You’re good at your job- you won’t get fired. Besides, everyone will blame me.”

It’s true- everyone will blame him- but that doesn’t stop you from distinctly remembering Mihawk’s words only a few days ago. He would kill both of you if-

“Clown.”

Suddenly Mihawk is looming over Buggy and you watch as his face pales to the same white shade as his makeup accents. He slowly releases his hold on your wrist before sliding out between you and Mihawk so he can turn and face him.

“Mihawk, buddy, great meeting today. I was just checking in with our manager on the- uh- the-“

“Don’t pretend you know what the meeting was about.” Mihawk then looks at you and you fight the urge to meld with the wall. “Come with me.”

You hang your head and follow Mihawk, not looking at Buggy as you pass him. You go down a few hallways, brain trying to find some kind of excuse to save you. Caught up in those thoughts you almost run into his back when he stops abruptly and flings open a door you’ve never seen before.

Mihawk’s hand pushes lightly against your back and you’re ushered into the newly opened room. It’s dark and small and you realize as he shuts the door behind him your in a storage closet. You’re not fired. Mihawk’s going to just kill you.

“What was the one thing I asked?” He asks, body pressing against you in the narrow space.

“That I didn’t let my relationship with Buggy affect my work.” You admit, pressing your back against the wall to try and not be as close to him.

“Is it a relationship?” He asks, voice low.

That wasn’t where you thought this discussion was going, but it was a fair ask. “I’m not sure. I don’t think anything is ever serious with Buggy.”

“No, nothing ever is.” You’re suddenly very aware of how close Mihawk is, how he’s bending over you slightly and caging you in. One of his arms is bracing against the wall next to you and his other brushes up against your hip. “He’s immature. Unfocused. Did he even make you cum?”

“He did.” You confess, fighting every urge to press against him.

“Surprising.” He hums, hand now fully gripping your waist. “Well if you’re not in a relationship with him you should have no problems seeing what other people could offer you. The pleasure other people could give you.”

“What other people?” You ask breathlessly, still searching for confirmation that this is somehow real.

“I think you know.” Deft fingers undo the clasps of your pants and slip past your waistband.

“Yeah- I think I do.” Your head falls back against the wall as Mihawk’s knees push your thighs apart.

His hand is slow as it moves down, pushing past fabric and gently skirting over your folds. Mihawk hums into your ear when he finds the wetness seeping out of you. “I wonder… is this for me or for him?”

“You!” You answer quickly, desperate as you fight the urge to move your hips down closer to his fingers. “Started when you dragged me away from him.”

“Really now?” That must have been a good answer as one of his fingers rubs along your clit.

His mouth moves to your neck and you tilt your head to give him better access. You whine as he sucks a bruise into your neck, determined to mark you. The possessive act has you melting even further into his touch, relying on his strength to keep you upright against the wall.

One long finger presses into your entrance as his thumb stays firmly on your clit. Your hands are balled in fists at your sides as you fight the urge to touch Mihawk- afraid of ruining the tense moment. That doesn’t stop you from moaning when a second finger quickly joins the first and skillfully curves inside you.

“So noisy… do you want someone to hear you?” His words make you suddenly very aware that you’re still just in a closet in a hallway anyone could be walking down right now.

One of your hands flies up and covers your mouth as his fingers curl again, muffling another moan. Mihawk chuckles as his fingers somehow find spots you could never hope to hit with your own digits. You resort to biting down on your hand when he finally hits that delicate spot deep inside you.

You had watched his fingers move over his guitar, effortlessly playing rhythms your mind couldn’t even keep up with, but you never let your mind think of the other uses those skilled fingers could have. He plays you just like his favored instrument, strumming inside you to get you to sing for him. Now you don’t think you can ever watch him play without these feelings washing over you again.

You’re so close to your orgasm as his fingers make a mess of you but right as you’re about to fly over the edge his fingers still completely and you almost scream. Your eyes find his in the dark and you can barely see any gold in them.

“Say you want me, not him.” He says, voice barely above a whisper.

So close to your edge, you probably would have said anything to get his fingers moving again.

“Mihawk- please I need you- I can’t even think about him when you’re- fuck your fingers are so good please Mihawk-“ You plead and beg, voice pathetic in the small space.

“That’s right.” His fingers move again and your knees give out as he massages the spot deep inside you while pressing against your clit.

If you were in your right mind you’d be embarrassed at the wetness soaking Mihawk’s fingers and your underwear but in the throws of your orgasm you couldn’t give a damn. His fingers work you gently through it, pulling out only when your own legs can hold you up.

“Open.” You obey his command without a second thought and fingers covered in your juices slip onto your tongue.

You leave your mouth hanging open as your tongue swirls around his fingers, making sure to clean every last drop of you off. He’s fixated on the way your tongue moves and you try not to let it get to your head that you have a man like Mihawk captivated. When you’re done you slowly pull away and stare into his eyes, patiently waiting for his next command. You don’t have to wait long.

“Knees.” You drop to the floor so fast you’re sure your knees are going to be bruised but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Your hands quickly work at his belt and shove down his pants, letting his hard, red cock spring free. Bringing his tip to your mouth you let pooled spit drip down, coating his length. One of your hands moves to pump his length as your spit eases the way as your tongue swirls around his tip. You take him into your mouth and hear him groan above you.

Looking up you see him almost doubled over you, one arm holding him up against the wall as his head hangs down to look at you. When you finally catch his gaze his free hand runs through your hair, surprisingly delicate.

“Just like that love.” His hand holds your head but doesn’t force you down further, allowing you to keep your own pace.

You work slowly, forgetting the fact that at any point in time someone could walk in on the two of you. The feeling of him sitting on your tongue is intoxicating as you take him into your mouth inch by inch. Breathing in through your nose you push him into your throat, eventually getting his whole length inside.

You feel his hand grip you tighter as he moans above you. “Fuck you’re good. Can you- just hold right there-“

You listen and don’t move, swallowing around his length and feeling the way his cock throbs in response. You hold like this for what feels like forever until your throat starts to get tired and you slowly push back against Mihawk’s hand. He lets you pull off and you gasp for breath, thick lines of spit still connecting you.

Mihawk’s hand guides you to tilt your head back and he brings his other hand off the wall to furiously pump his own length. You let your mouth fall open as his guides his tip to your tongue. You make sure to look at him as hot ropes of cum fall onto your tongue, making sure not to swallow.

“Let me see.” He crouches down to your level, hand holding your jaw so he can find the perfect angle to see his cum pooling in your mouth. “That’s right- now swallow for me.”

You do so- glad to get the salty taste from your mouth and also glad to see how much Mihawk likes your obedience. He watches your face for a few seconds before pushing forward and capturing your mouth in a needy, sloppy kiss. Despite it only lasting a few seconds, you’re breathless when he pulls away and stands up.

He quickly tucks himself back into his pants and zips himself up before reaching a hand down to you to help you up. He takes care of your pants as well, pressing one last kiss to your neck as he does so.

“See you tomorrow.” He says, a slight smile on his face as he slinks out the door of the closet, leaving you alone in the dark.

You’re seriously fucked.

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 6

Christmas Day, and the final day (supposedly)

Word count: 4.8k (damn that's more than I originally intended to write for this part)

Warnings: unrealistic depictions of winter in Britain (it snows a lot), swearing, Lockwood gets a hug from reader's mum and can't cope, lockwood's lack of sleep is brought up, reader has Feelings and can't cope, Stephanie and Linda are bitches again and get an awful gift for reader, body image issues, lockwood shouts at Steph, mentions of Lockwood's family (and them being dead), Stephanie (she's a warning all on her own tbh), cliffhanger of an ending

the picture doesn't really match the vibes but it's one of the few where he's not wearing a suit 🤡 (but also look how babygirl he looks)

(image credit to lavenderghostco on pinterest)

series master list

Lockwood hadn't slept.

Instead he had spent the night trying to get Y/n to hear him through the locked bathroom door, but then when he'd heard quiet music playing and realised that she'd taken her walkman with her and was sleeping in there he had given up, shifting to lean his back against the door and pull his knees up to his chest.

Then he had used the rest of the night to go over what had been said between the two of them, and how horribly wrong it had all gone.

Why couldn't she have waited another two seconds for him to finish talking?

And why couldn't he figure out how to properly apologise to her?

When the sun had finally risen and slightly blinded Lockwood as it streamed in through the curtains that hadn't been properly closed the night before, he stood up, shaking out his stiff limbs and stretching. He got changed into some fresh, more comfortable clothes, having stayed in his suit from the day before all night, and headed downstairs to make a cup of tea.

"Oh, hello Anthony!" Emma said when he walked in to the kitchen. "Are you... alright?" She was frowning, likely because the dark bags under his eyes were far more prominent from the severe lack of sleep.

"Yes, I'm alright thank you. Just didn't sleep too well last night." He smiled at her.

"Oh dear," Emma replied, putting the kettle on. "Is Y/n alright?"

"She's fine. She did sleep in the bathroom though because she felt a bit sick, but she was out like a light right away." An easy lie to tell about the situation they had found themselves in, and Emma was too distracted making tea to detect any falsehoods.

"As long as the two of you are okay now then that's all that matters. Here's a mug for you, love."

"Thank you." It was strange how easily he got used to being part of this family. He was moving around the kitchen with Emma as though they had been doing it their whole lives, and he suddenly felt a pang of pain as he remembered doing the same things with his own family. Lockwood stopped, staring down into his tea that was now swirling around in the mug and blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Anthony? What is it, dear?"

"It's nothing," he said, wiping at his face quickly and offering up a smile. Emma saw through it, though, and placed a hand on his arm. A similar scene flashed through his mind from last night, and his chest ached even more at the memory of Y/n instinctively comforting him and how he had likely ruined any chance of that happening again.

"Aw, love. I know we don't really... know each other that well, but if you ever want to talk to me about anything you know that you can, right?"

"Yeah, thank you, Emma," he replied. For some reason he felt the need to step forward and wrap his arms around her, but after a few seconds of Emma standing still he awkwardly pulled back, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "S-sorry. I don't know-" he was cut off by her hugging him just as tightly as she had Y/n when they first got to the house, and although he couldn't breathe too well he felt... at home.

"Never apologise, love," she mumbled into his hair, squeezing tightly. "Like I said, if you ever need me, you let me know." she stepped back then to hold him by the arms and look him in the eyes. Lockwood nodded, suddenly feeling five years old again, and dried his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Alright?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Now, you take this up to Y/n and make sure she's somewhat dressed and downstairs, because I think everyone else is starting to get up now and we'll do presents in a bit."

Lockwood took the mug and picked up his own tea, heading out the room after a quick thanks to Emma. A thought struck him as he carefully carried the mugs upstairs, and he really hoped that Y/n had presents because otherwise they would be in deep shit.

~~~

"Y/n?" Lockwood's voice tentatively called out. She huffed from where she laid in the bathtub wrapped up in blankets. What did he want? "Y/n? I've... I've got tea for you out here. I'm just gonna leave it on the bedside table for you. Uh, your mum also said that we're gonna do presents and stuff in a bit so... come down when you're ready I guess." He paused for a moment, then said "Do you... do you have presents? Because I didn't actually get anything and now I'm starting to feel bad because your parents are actually really nice and so are your siblings and-"

"Lockwood! Shut up! I got presents, alright?!" She shouted, getting out of the bath. She bundled up the duvet and pillow and opened the door to a slightly dishevelled Lockwood, pushing past him to chuck the blankets on the bed and grab some clean clothes from the suitcase. He had clearly been running his hand through his hair from the way it was sticking up at funny angles, and the bags under his eyes were far more prominent. She frowned, wondering if he'd had any sleep at all last night.

"Alright, I uh... I'll just..." he walked into the bathroom, everything about his movements more unsure and nervous than Y/n had ever seen him.

She changed into the clothes she had picked up, and only realised once the jumper was pulled over her head that it wasn't her jumper she had on.

It was Lockwood's.

She didn't have time to change before he unlocked the bathroom door and came back into the bedroom, stopping short in his tracks when he looked up and saw her stood in the middle of the room in his jumper. "I- This wasn't deliberate."

"I know," he said quietly, and she almost scoffed when he looked at her with sadness in his eyes. What right did he have to look that way when he had said those words last night?

"You're right. I won't ever like you in the same way as the others."

They had played over and over as she tried to get to sleep, wondering how he had managed to sink to an even lower depth in causing her pain than he had before.

"Here," she said when the silence grew uncomfortable, bending down to grab the group of wrapped gifts at the bottom of the case and handing a few to Lockwood. "We should head down I suppose."

"Don't forget your tea. I'll uh- I'll see you down there," he offered up a small smile as he left.

As soon as the door shut behind him she heaved a sigh, eyeing the tea on the bedside table sat right where Lockwood had said it would be. There was no point in letting it get cold, so she waited until the mug had been drained before leaving and going downstairs.

~~~

The tea had been a good way to start preparing herself for Christmas Day with her family, but on seeing Lockwood again (despite it only having been about five minutes) she could feel herself drowning at the prospect of having to fake this relationship for another few hours. At least it was only a few hours, since they were catching the only train running on Christmas Day that afternoon.

"And the last one for you, Y/n! Sorry, Anthony, you've only got a couple because we had no idea what you wanted and only found out you were coming a few days ago!"

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything at all, Emma, really," he beamed, and Y/n wondered how he could act so well. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, leaping at the chance to put on an accent for reconnaissance for a case, or coming up with ridiculously fabricated tales of fights with Visitors to boast to Kipps, but that wasn't anything compared to hiding the fact that he had argued with the daughter of the woman he was smiling at, and was pretending to date her and love her regardless.

"I won't ever like you in the same way."

That had hurt the most, and Y/n had spent much of her time awake attempting to figure out why. It wasn't the entire sentence about Lockwood not liking her in the same way as Lucy, George, and Holly, as that hadn't been the part that had been on repeat. No, for some reason it had been his admission that his feelings wouldn't change from the hatred they shared that made her want to rip her heart out every time she saw his smile.

"Nonsense!" her mother said as she sat back in her seat. "Alright everyone, get stuck in!"

The next ten minutes were a frenzy of paper being ripped into and presents being opened, and Lockwood and Y/n were curled up on the loveseat like they had on the first day quietly working their way through their piles. At least they had an excuse for not talking to each other, since their presents were taking up the majority of their attention.

At least they ought to have been.

One of Lockwood's arms was around her waist, hand resting lightly on her thigh while he watched her unwrap her remaining gifts. He had long since finished, having thanked Emma profusely for the box of chocolates and ten pound note that he'd been given. Y/n was finding it difficult to concentrate with Lockwood's warmth behind her, and he was doing that thing where he stroked his fingers over her skin. His hand had moved from her thigh to her stomach, fingers drifting under the fabric of the jumper she had accidentally stolen from him and tracing patterns absentmindedly. It seemed to be something that happened any time they were in this sort of position, and she was frustrated at how much she enjoyed it.

"You alright?" he whispered.

"Yep." She didn't look back at him, instead focusing on the plain envelope she now held in her hands and frowning at it.

"Oh!" Stephanie cried out, and Y/n had forgotten just how annoying her voice was since they had barely interacted the day before. "That's from us! It's... well. Why don't you open it up?" If the smirk on Stephanie and Linda's faces were anything to go by, it wouldn't be Y/n's favourite gift she received this year.

"What is it?" Lockwood asked from behind her, peering over her shoulder at the piece of card that had been inside. "A coupon or a gift card or something?"

"Gym membership, Lockwood. They got me a gym membership." Dammit, her voice was shaking and her eyes were prickling with unshed tears, and worst of all she knew that Lockwood could tell. She hated that she leaned ever so slightly further into his body. She hated that when he brought his free hand around her to properly wrap her in a hug she was painfully aware of Stephanie and Linda watching every movement, and could feel their judgement of her body.

Then she hated that she felt safe and protected in Lockwood's embrace, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her.

There was nothing wrong with how she looked, and it wasn't her fault that Stephanie was a size 2 (probably, Y/n had never bothered to ask) and liked to gloat about it frequently, but the cut ran deep and had done for years. When Y/n stood up and left much like she had on the first day, she wasn't surprised to see the triumphant look on her cousin's face.

~~~

Lockwood was fuming, but this time he couldn't set anything on fire.

To be fair, he hadn't been allowed to set anything on fire the previous times it had happened, and multiple of those accounts of arson were Lucy's fault, not his, but he still wanted to burn something.

How dare they give a fucking gym membership as a Christmas present?! What did they think they would achieve in doing so?! Stephanie and Linda clearly looked proud of themselves, and the sight of their faces made Lockwood feel sick when he remembered how Y/n's body had tensed up and curled into him more at the piece of card in the envelope.

Taking his chance after Y/n left the room, Lockwood stood up, then headed over to Stephanie. "Can we talk?" he asked, although the tone he used made it clear that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He led her out into the hallway, then into the kitchen for good measure, and his remaining restraint snapped with the sound of the door closing. "Are you out of your mind?" He hadn't shouted, instead keeping his voice as calm as he could, but he knew that his anger was barely contained behind his gritted teeth.

"I don't know what you mean," Stephanie simpered, and Lockwood took a step closer to her.

"A gym membership?!"

Steph shrugged. "She needs it. She's really let herself go the last-"

"No, she hasn't. And I would fucking know, because I live with her. She is perfect the way she is, alright? And you have no right - absolutely none - to give her that sort of thing as a Christmas present. It really just proves that you have no idea who she is, and that you're a fucking terrible person."

"Oh, like you're so honourable!" she spat.

"What's going on?" Emma's voice sounded, and the kitchen door opened to show the rest of Y/n's family that were still in the house. "Why is there shouting?"

"Y/n's little boyfriend here is accusing me of not knowing my own cousin!"

"Because you don't!"

"And you know more about her than me, do you?!"

"It looks like it, yes!"

"Everything was so much better before you turned up, do you know that? Why don't you scurry back to whatever shithole you and your parents live in and we'll carry on with our lives, yeah?" Lockwood flinched.

"Stephanie! Linda, please, can't you do something?!" Emma pleaded. She sent a quiet apology to Lockwood, looking distressed at how quickly Christmas Day had fallen into arguments.

"She's right, Emma. If he wasn't here then everything would be right again. Why don't we keep Y/n here for a few more days, and he can go back to his sad little life with his parents." He flinched again, barely having time to compose himself before Linda was smiling sweetly at him.

"I would, Linda, but I am not leaving my girlfriend here with you."

"Well," Stephanie started. "Why don't you invite your family up here then? I'm sure we'd all love to meet the people that raised such a... lovely... person!"

"Once again, I would," Lockwood said, as nonchalantly as he could, "but I very much doubt that you'd find much to talk to them about."

"Are they deaf or something?" Lockwood saw Y/n through her brothers' bodies, and she was trying to push past them to join him in the kitchen.

"Something like that," he smiled, hoping they couldn't see the sadness in it. Technically his family was deaf, since they were unable to hear anything on account of the fact that they were dead. Y/n stumbled forward, having finally been let through, and she righted herself and walked over to where Lockwood was stood.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice quiet so that only he could hear. "Just heard them mention your family and stuff, and Steph can be really mean about literally everything and I didn't want you to be on your own for that."

"Oh." He blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought that she would care too much since she'd ignored him and hated him thoroughly since last night. "I'm alright; I can deal with it, don't worry." His smile was soft, and for a brief moment he thought he might be breaking through to the Y/n he had come to know over the past two days before everything went wrong, but then the blinds were snapped shut and he was blocked out again.

~~~

Lunch was interesting.

Emma and Ben had slaved for hours to get everything ready, having left the morning celebrations at various points to put things in the ovens, or chop things, or do anything that was needed, and mid-afternoon their hard work was served up on huge plates to the family.

"Thank you, this looks incredible," Lockwood said, and Emma grinned.

"You're very welcome, Anthony!" She sat down in her seat, making sure everybody had food on their plates before taking up her cracker. Y/n's grandparents needed her brothers talking directly into their ears to explain what was happening over the noise of everyone else, and it took a full five minutes to get everybody with crackers in hand and arms crossed over before they could be pulled.

Hats were put on, and pictures taken on the family camera (and then Y/n asked Will to take some on her personal camera too), and finally they could start eating. People read out their jokes and trivia, and while the laughter of various family members was loud, Y/n couldn't help but feel like it was all muffled and distant. She was underwater again, her ears filled with water as she tried swimming up to the surface, but the weight of her cousin's gaze was dragging her down into the depths again.

Then a hand was on her arm, gentle but enough of a pressure that she was being pulled upwards, and Lockwood's voice was in her ear.

"Hey, are you alright? You zoned out for a minute there and I had to rescue your potato from going off the side of your plate."

Sure enough, her fork was pushing the contents of her plate closer to the edge, and she quickly let go of her cutlery to stop it. The knife and fork landed with a clatter, and while conversation didn't stop, it did die down as people looked in her direction. "I'm fine," she replied, knowing she was the opposite. Lockwood appeared to know too, because he was still frowning.

"Are you su-"

"Yes," she said harshly, and he flinched back.

"Okay, sorry." He turned back to his own food, and they didn't speak for most of the rest of the meal.

~~~

"Book!"

"Play?"

"It's a book, you idiot!"

"John, don't call Sam an idiot!"

"Mum, you can't talk when doing a charade," Will said, and he received a glare in response.

"How do you reckon the others are getting on with their holidays?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood was surprised at her question.

"I imagine they're all having wonderful times," he replied, revelling in the smile that graced Y/n's face. It was a shame that the cause of the smile wasn't him, but he only had himself to blame for that.

"That's good. At least most of the company is enjoying Christmas."

Somewhere in the house, a phone started ringing. Ben got up to answer.

"I'm enjoying it," Lockwood said, and Y/n swivelled in her seat a little to look at him. "Besides the obvious, of course."

"Me?"

"No," he huffed. "Why do you keep thinking that you're the last person I want to spend Christmas with?"

"Because you literally said that you wouldn't enjoy a second of it?"

"Well that was a lie, wasn't it? Honestly, do you not remember anything I told you last night about me having a nice time here instead of the usual shitty Christmases since I was six?" That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Y/n froze up and stopped smiling.

"I remember last night, yeah," she mumbled, turning her back to him again. Shit.

"Thinking about it," he said, attempting to salvage the situation, "I haven't seen any baby photos of you yet."

"Be my guest." Her tone was bland, and Lockwood started internally cursing himself for bringing up the night before.

"Y/n, I'm sorry for what I said, alright? I was a dick and I should have explained myself better. Would you-"

"THE BIBLE! IT'S THE BIBLE!"

"YES!"

"WHAT?! THE BIBLE? THAT'S A CHARADE?!"

"Would you hear me out? Please? When we get a moment later," he asked, trying to mask the amount of desperation in his voice.

"You better have a good excuse, Anthony, because you really hurt me, and if you fuck up again I'm leaving."

"Leaving? What, like leaving the house?"

"Leaving the company."

Lockwood thought his heart might give out. "Wh- wha- what do you mean, leave the company?"

"I can't keep doing this, okay? I can't get up every morning just to be verbally abused by you all the time. It's not healthy for me, at all. I have to look out for myself, alright?"

"...Right. Yeah, no, that's... that makes sense." He was still reeling from her confession, so when Y/n's grandmother Jean tapped him on the shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin. Y/n hadn't noticed, instead joining in with the ongoing game of charades.

"Why don't you take this, dear," she said, giving him a wink and handing over a sprig of some sort of plant.

"Uh... thank you?"

"Mistletoe. You know, it was originally a sign of peace, and if people met underneath it then they had to stop fighting, no matter what. Sounds like you two might need it," she smiled, but unlike Stephanie or Linda there was only love behind it. Lockwood stared down at the plant he held in his hand, but when he went to thank Jean for the gift she had already gone back to whatever conversation she was having with Tom, her previous chat long forgotten.

"I've got some news," Y/n's father Ben exclaimed as he walked back into the room, and everybody turned to look at him.

"What is it? Why do you sound so worried?"

"Nobody is going to be able to travel anywhere for about a week. I just got a phone call from Ted at the office." Lockwood felt Y/n tense beside him, and he tried not to do the same.

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"Snow warning. Weather officials are saying that a snow storm is going to hit us today and we'll all be snowed in. All trains are cancelled for the next week, and then after that it's unclear."

"What? So we're stuck here for another week?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood heard the panic creeping into her voice. This wasn't good at all, especially since he and Y/n now had to continue faking it for an extra seven days when they were back to hating each other. He needed to fix things and fast, or this holiday would continue to derail and end in flames.

"Sorry, love. I know you wanted to get back before the New Year."

"Yeah," she whispered, looking down at the ground. "Shit."

~~~

"Can we... can we talk?" Lockwood asked once they had a moment to breathe. After the news that they would be here for another week Y/n had excused herself and headed upstairs, and Lockwood had apparently followed.

"What is there to talk about, Lockwood?"

"Well don't we need to rethink? Originally we were only here for three days, and that was manageable. Now we're here for an extra week minimum? I don't know, call me crazy but I really do think we need to figure out how we're going to do this." He was running his hand through his hair again (what was in his other one, was that mistletoe?), but he stopped when Y/n looked him dead in the eyes and answered him.

"You're crazy." She didn't even know why he had the plant, unless he was planning on kissing her again and then ripping her heart out afterwards. Y/n went over to the windows to pull open the blinds the rest of the way to ignore the memory of his mouth on hers. They hadn't been properly closed the night before, and with how the sun rose directly through the windows Lockwood had probably been blinded by it that morning and woken up. He looked far too sleep deprived for him to have woken up at half seven in the morning though.

"Ok, well at the very least can we talk about last night?"

Y/n had stopped by the windows, staring out at the landscape and ignoring Lockwood's question.

"Y/n?"

"Holy shit." Where normally the view was the lake nearby and the forest in the distance, rolling fields spreading out in the foreground, now it had been coated in a blanket of white as far as the eye could see.

"What is it?"

"Just... just come and look." He did, hesitantly coming over to stand beside her and drawing in a breath at the landscape.

"Holy shit."

"That's what I said. Fuck. I was hoping it wouldn't be that bad and we could still find a way to get home."

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere in this. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she frowned, turning her head to look at him. "You're not the snow god who deliberately penned us in my family home for an extra week."

"No, I'm not." Lockwood went quiet, staring out the window but not actually seeing anything, his eyes unfocused as he got wrapped up in his head. "Can we talk about last night? Please?" Y/n looked out the window again.

"What for? I think you said everything I needed to hear."

"I didn't, though. You didn't let me finish saying what I was going to say before you went and shut yourself in the bathroom." His tone was desperate, and Y/n half thought he might start getting on his knees and begging. A memory came back to her of her doing the same thing only a few days ago when she begged him to come with her on this mad venture. He'd been laughing then.

"Well I don't know that I want to know what I missed."

"I was going to say that I won't ever like you in the same way as the others, because I can't. I don't think I realised that until it was too late, but I can't like you in the same way I like George, or Lucy, or Holly, because I think that I'm-"

"Right!" Stephanie shouted, shoving open the door. She stopped short at the sight of Y/n and Lockwood stood so close together, and then again at the pain on Lockwood's face. Y/n hadn't realised that as Lockwood had been talking, he had been inching closer in his attempt to get her to listen to him. They were practically touching now, and Stephanie glanced between them both until they stepped back a little. "You two," she said, jabbing a finger in their direction once she'd remembered what she was there for, "have ruined my Christmas, I hope you know that!" Y/n shared a look with Lockwood. "So watch out, alright? Because I'm coming for you both!" she shrieked, and slammed the door on her way out.

Y/n and Lockwood stood staring at the door for a while before Lockwood spoke up. "Did she seem okay to you?"

"I think she's having some sort of breakdown."

"I thought so too."

"Sort of looked like a banshee or something."

"Especially with the hair all crazy like that, did you see?"

"She'll definitely have a breakdown when she sees that birds are nesting in it, for sure." It felt easy all of a sudden, and conversing with Lockwood wasn't as hard as it had been a couple of hours ago. There was hope, she realised. Hope that he really did have something nice to say. He wouldn't have looked quite so ridiculously desperate for her attention otherwise. She ignored the way that butterflies started fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Lockwood craving her attention so badly. Before this whole ordeal she would have simply felt smug about having the upper hand.

"I really didn't mean it in a hurtful way, Y/n. Although I can see how it came across like that."

"Well what did you mean, Lockwood? Because you did hurt me. And now we're fucking snowed in for a week longer than we planned and Steph is on a rampage. And when Steph is on a rampage she will absolutely have what it takes to uncover this whole fake relationship thing, despite having, like, zero brain cells the rest of the time."

He sighed, clenching his jaw in frustration. "I can't feel the same way because I'm pretty sure I've-" he paused, then took a breath. Why was he taking so long to say something that could make their entire situation easier? He looked uncertain again, and Y/n started feeling nervous.

Lockwood was never uncertain. He was Anthony bloody Lockwood.

Then when he spoke, she realised why.

part 7

Tag list (there are so many people that if I forgot to add you then please let me know and I'll do that right away!): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

[cuffmeinblack]

Hi~ is it okay if I request a Fluffy oneshot of Ominis gaunt x fem Hufflepuff Mc?

Like she’s generally a very soft spoken girl (tho she got sass for days) and maybe Ominis stumbles upon her while she’s singing “Secret Garden- Sleepsong” in the undercroft, because it’s a family lullaby and she’s feeling a little homesick.. (Post good ending, Sebs spending the weekend with Anne & his uncle)

He’s so entranced by her singing.. he ends up making notes on when she seems to go down there to sing, just so he can listen to her.. (also he’s a bit nervous about letting her know, that he knows she can sing. So he’s done all this in secret.)

And maybe sometime later a mean-girl group from the frog choir corners MC, talking shit about how she probably has a trashy voice or something.. Ominis ain’t having that!!

He just blurts out that ACTUALLY she has the voice of a GODDESS!! and they aren’t even worthy enough to listen to a Dogbog snor!

Maybe MC’s a little confident after his little stunt so she gets super flirty~

Seb’s gonna be so confused when he gets back to an unusually flirtatious MC constantly making moves on a VERY flustered Ominis.. 👀 but he’s happy for them at least.. and won a LOT of Galions, but that’s beside the point!

Basically all cute shit.. Ominis deserves SO much Love.. 🥺

Two little words

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Tags: fluff | Hufflepuff reader

1k words

A/: Hello, thank for your request 🖤 I enjoyed writing this from Ominis' point of view. Hope you enjoy.

I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

Ominis knew he wasn't alone as soon he stepped into the Undercroft—he immediately jumped back and pressed himself against the cold stone wall upon hearing the noise. Quite what made him hide, he wasn't sure, only that the moment he had stumbled upon seemed personal and intimate.

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

The voice could only belong to one person, the only other one who knew about the Undercroft besides himself and Sebastian. She sang with a gentle lilt, the melody was sombre and sweet and tinged with sadness. Ominis knew he should either make his presence known or leave, the longer he left it the more awkward his discovery would become, but he found himself unable to move, partially from fear but a greater desire to hear her sing more.

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

The sweet song stopped suddenly and Ominis' gut twisted uncomfortably when he realised why—she was crying. Her breath hitched and she tried to stifle the sobs, breathing deeply and sniffing through her nose. Ominis felt intensely guilty for intruding—he didn't think she would appreciate the intrusion, even though he wanted to comfort her, she had clearly come here for solitude. Regretfully, he felt his way along the wall and back out of the door.

Ominis knew she often roamed the castle or fled into the forest or Hogsmeade, she was hard to keep track of, but he started to notice a pattern to her behaviour. She would receive an owl from her parents every Monday, and that evening she would disappear, walking through the central hall and sneaking off to the Undercroft. The second time he found her, he had intended to confront her and offer his support, but once again found himself distracted and enchanted by her sweet voice. He knew she wouldn't willingly sing in front of him, and he so wanted to listen.

She sang a different song every time he visited, though it was often a sad and slow tune. Ominis thought she must miss her home terribly and wondered about her life away from Hogwarts—a shy and intensely private person, much like Ominis, she didn't often mention her personal life, preferring to devote her conversations to her studies and friends' lives. Every time he heard her sing, standing in the shadows, his heart raced and on more than one occasion he felt wet hot tears sliding down his face.

All good things must come to an end, and for Ominis that was on a Tuesday afternoon a month after he had first heard her sing. He walked across the courtyard on his way to Herbology, his wand held aloft and listening to the chatter surrounding him. His ears heard her voice, now so familiar and comforting, though it was full of hurt and anger.

"There's no need to be so horrible."

"We're just giving you some criticism, if you can't take it then you shouldn't be singing at all," a second voice rang, ugly and rough in comparison.

Ominis followed the conversation.

"Telling me I sound like a banshee isn't criticism, it's needlessly mean. I don't know what your problem is," she said, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

More voices, cruelly laughing. The second voice chimed in again.

"Just give up, you'll never make the choir with your voice."

Ominis leaned against the pillar of an archway, his hands shaking in anger.

"I happen to think she has the voice of an angel, and we can all agree I have much better taste than you," he drawled.

He heard a shuffle as the group found the source of the insult.

"Nobody asked you, Gaunt," the ugly voice said.

"I spend my life listening, and let me tell you that she would be the best thing to happen to your pathetic little choir."

The silence that greeted his retort let him knew he had won the exchange. Several huffs were expelled and he heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Her sweet voice filled his ears, asking a question he didn't want to answer.

"Thank you, Ominis. When have you ever heard me sing?"

Ominis blushed, trying to find words that wouldn't anger or embarrass her.

"I have to confess, I found myself listening as you sang in the Undercroft. I apologise for not showing myself, I should have."

"I thought you must have. Next time…tell me when you're there?" she replied.

"Next time?"

"If you want. I'll see you later, Ominis."

The response surprised him, and he spent the next few hours utterly distracted from his lessons, turning the conversation and his memories of the Undercroft over in his mind. Was it an invitation? Should he turn up next week? He wanted to more than anything, but he worried he had somehow misinterpreted her interest.

That doubt was put to rest by the time he reached the great hall that evening. He followed Sebastian to their usual seat, where she sat waiting. Some of the Slytherins despised that a Hufflepuff often sat at their house table for meals, but they didn't comment anymore lest they find themselves on the receiving end of Ominis' ruthless sharp-witted insults, or the end of Sebastian's wand.

"Hello, you two. Good afternoon?"

"Fantastic, blew myself up in Potions," Sebastian said sarcastically, "You?"

"Not bad, it got better after I saw you, Ominis."

Ominis blushed, the heat rising in his cheeks, smiling bashfully as Sebastian started choking next to him.

"I'm glad. I'm sorry they were so awful," Ominis replied, ignoring the coughing coming from his friend.

"My hero," she said in a breathy voice.

Yes, Ominis often found himself thinking about her singing but those two little words might have been the the most beautiful he had ever heard.

[katsu28]

save the day

pairing: firefighter!JJ Maybank x fem!reader 

summary: an AU in which JJ is a firefighter and goes on a rather interesting call (2k)

a/n: my submission for day one of @surftrips obx writing week! unfortunately this is the only day i’ll be able to participate in due to things happening in my personal life right now but definitely check out everyone else participating in the challenge!! <3

Being a firefighter in a big city looked different from day to day. Sometimes it looked like fighting a multi-story blaze engulfing a skyscraper downtown. Sometimes it meant running drills on the apparatus floor all day because the station never got any calls. Sometimes it looked like pulling people out of burning buildings or prying them out of wrecked cars, with the occasional water rescue. 

And sometimes it looked like this—heading out on a call to rescue a cat stuck in a tree. 

JJ liked the unpredictability of it all, the thrill that came with never knowing just quite what he’d be up against when the alarm bells went off. He liked being able to help people when they needed it most. 

At Station P4, they rotated shifts in the ambulance. Today was JJ’s turn to ride the ambo, and he loved it just as much. He flicked on the siren as he pulled out of the driveway, rolling down the driver’s side window to let the breeze whip through his already wild blond curls. 

“Dude, can you at least try to obey some traffic laws?” The man sitting in the passenger seat huffed, gripping the handle beside him a little tighter. 

Pope Heyward was one of JJ’s best friends at the station. They’d come up through the fire academy together and got assigned to different stations at first, but were eventually both assigned to the same one. JJ liked to call it fate that they ended up together in the end, because Pope was one of the reasons why he hadn’t gotten dropped in the early stages of training. 

“That’s the beauty of the siren, my friend!” JJ exclaimed, banking a hard left with a gleeful smile. “Turn and burn, baby!”

The location of the call was fairly close to home, so it didn’t take long to arrive at the scene. JJ pulled the ambo to a stop right before the fire engine did the same, grabbing the jump bag from the back before jogging to catch up with the rest of his fellow firefighters. 

There were seven of them total, each one of them making up the rest of JJ’s closest friends. John B. was the station’s captain, but he never acted like he was above the rest of his crew. Kie was his trusty right hand, and Sarah was on track to making lieutenant in a few months. Last but certainly not least, there was Cleo, the station’s newest addition, a probationary firefighter with spunk for days and a fiery attitude (no pun intended). 

Together they formed what JJ liked to call “the dream team”, working together like a well oiled machine in whatever situation they were thrown into. 

JJ fell into step with Kie, elbowing her playfully. “Ten bucks we’ll get the cat down in under twenty.” 

“Make it under fifteen and you’re on.” 

“Thank god you guys are here!” You exclaimed from where you were standing under a giant oak tree, looking fraught with worry. JJ’s smile faltered for a split second and he nearly tripped over his own boots, too distracted by you. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but if he did, he imagined it would feel something like this. “I tried to get her down, but she kept going higher and I didn’t want her to fall out of the tree and I didn’t think I should go up there so I called you guys! Is that—is that allowed? Does this count as an emergency, can you guys get her down?” 

JJ shook himself out of his daze, opening his mouth to respond, but John B. was faster, offering a more collected reply than JJ probably could in his state. 

“Of course we can get her down, ma’am, you did the right thing by calling. Let us take a look, assess the situation, then we’ll see if we can’t get her down from there safely.” He’d turned his captain’s voice on, the one that made him sound all official and professional and made JJ kind of want to bust out laughing. Now that wouldn’t have been professional at all. 

“Okay, okay, thank you so much,” You breathed, shoulders sagging with relief. The team spread out under the looming tree, peering up into the canopy to locate the cat. One of the highest branches hissed and shook violently, then there she was, a very angry ball of fur with big yellow eyes glaring down at them. 

“Does she normally do this? Climb up trees and not come down?” John B asked, cocking his head. 

“No, she doesn’t, and that’s why I’m worried! She usually never tries to leave the house, but I just opened the door for a second to grab a package and she bolted outside!” 

JJ could tell you were on the verge of panic, and he also noticed the long gash on your arm. 

“Quite a nasty scratch you got there, ma’am. Why don’t we let my friends rescue your feline friend while I check out that wound, yeah?” He insisted, nodding towards the ambulance. You looked apprehensive at first, but he turned on the charm, flashing you a pearly white smile that had you nodding slowly and following him. “Did she scratch you?” 

“Yeah, a little bit when I was first trying to get her down. It’s nothing though, it doesn’t even hurt that much.” 

“Well, I gotta check it out regardless, so if you wouldn’t mind having a seat for me right there.” JJ rummaged through the jump bag for a pair of exam gloves, snapping them on quickly before gesturing for you to give him your arm. You still looked a little uneasy, so he decided to try and lighten the conversation a bit while he examined the scratch running the length of your whole forearm. “I’m JJ. What’s your name?” You told him your name and he repeated it, letting it roll off his tongue easily. He thought it was a really pretty name. Seemed fitting for a pretty girl like you. “And your cat? She got a pretty name too?” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, looking a little embarrassed now. “Her name’s Porkchop.” JJ cleared his throat, trying his best not to laugh. “It’s stupid, I know—” 

“No, no, it’s not stupid! Porkchop is a very distinguished name. My great uncle’s nickname was Porkchop, and he was pretty cool.” The cut on your arm was long, but shallow and pretty clean, no excessive bleeding or anything else that would suggest a need to take you to the hospital for further medical examination. He grabbed a few supplies that he needed to wrap the wound, spreading them out between the two of you. 

“Is that a joke?” 

“Uh…yeah, it was a joke,” JJ admitted sheepishly, cheeks flushing pink. “It wasn’t a very good one now that I think about it.”

“Is this your way of trying to keep me calm?” 

“It’s…an attempt. Is it working?” 

Your mouth quirked up into a small smile. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Good. I’m glad. Because I gotta clean your cut, and it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker.” He said solemnly. You shifted in your seat, eyeing the cleaning solution in his hand nervously. “You can hold my hand, if you want.” He added, propping your arm up on his knee to free up his other hand. 

He wasn’t expecting you to take him up on his offer, but you reached for him immediately, curling your fingers around his own. Thank god you weren’t able to feel how his pulse skyrocketed at your touch. 

You squeezed his hand hard, letting out a pained hiss at the stinging sensation that came with JJ’s care. He bandaged your forearm as quick as he could, though he contemplated taking his time so you wouldn’t let go of him for a little while longer. 

“M’kay, all done. Sorry about that.” 

“It’s okay. Didn’t hurt.” 

“Didn’t seem like that with the way you were gripping my hand,” He teased, bumping his knee against yours. You were still smiling at him and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was making him a little flustered. Maybe even nervous. And he never got nervous. “If you could just fill this out while I go grab something from the engine, I’ll be right back. It’s just a release form saying that you consent to us not taking you down to the hospital. Standard procedure, just crossing our I’s, dotting our T’s.” 

JJ hopped down from the ledge, passing a clipboard to you and hurrying towards where Pope was spotting Kie on the ladder before you could realize he’d totally butchered that expression. “Pope! Yo, Pope, I gotta talk to you.” 

“What’s up?” 

“What’s the policy on asking out people we save?” 

“You wanna ask out the cat?” Pope snickered. 

JJ rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t. You know what I mean. And her name’s Porkchop, by the way.” 

“Cute. But no, there’s not really any policy against it, I guess. Not one that I know of, anyways.” 

“Yeah?” He cocked his head thoughtfully, gears inside already turning. Pope nodded. “Good to know.” 

“Hey, wait, that doesn’t mean you should—” JJ was out of earshot before Pope could finish his sentence, beelining right back for the ambo to you. Just as he came around the corner, you looked up, capping your pen, holding the clipboard back out to him. 

“All done? You’re fast, I like it.” 

“My number is on the medical form. In case you need to follow up on anything in the near future.” You offered, running your fingers along your bandage absentmindedly. 

“Ah, so we usually don’t do the follow-ups, that would be—oh. Oh! You meant—got it, you want me to….yeah. I mean, I want to, ‘cause you seem cool.” It was like word vomit escaping JJ’s mouth, because he couldn’t seem to stop talking, but you just smiled warmly at him, giving his hand a soft squeeze. He kind of liked that you’d made the first move instead of him.

Throughout this, the rest of his team had managed to get Porkchop down from the tree, as evident by the way she was purring in Kie’s arms contently like she hadn’t just scratched the shit out of you earlier. 

You leapt away from JJ quickly, though he wasn’t sure if it was more about not being caught cozying up to him or that your cat was now safe and sound. He hoped it was the latter. 

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, gathering your beloved cat into your arms as Kie passed her off to you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—you guys are the best.” 

“Just doin’ our job, ma’am.” John B nodded, tipping his helmet towards you. 

“Some more than others.” muttered Pope. It went unnoticed by you, but JJ heard the comment, giving his friend a swift stomp on the foot in return. “I mean, we’re happy we could help.” 

“If JJ’s all done patching you up, we can go ahead and wrap up, leave you to the rest of your day.” 

“Uh, yeah. Yep, all set and ready to go, JB.” 

“Right then. You have a good day, ma’am. You too, Porkchop. Try not to climb any more trees, ‘kay?” 

The rest of JJ’s team filed back towards the engine and Pope made his way up to the front of the ambo, leaving you and JJ alone yet again. 

“Talk to you soon?” You asked hopefully, shifting Porkchop higher in your arms. 

“You know it,” JJ replied, shooting you his signature wink. He went to hop  into the driver’s seat swiftly, taking another few seconds to soak in the sight of you smiling bashfully at him before he had to drive away. 

“You asked her out, didn’t you?” 

“What? Of course not. Why would you even think such a thing?” Even as he spoke, there was a giddy sort of smile on his face, one that Pope clocked in on immediately. 

“You’re lying! You’re such a liar, you totally asked her out! JJ, you really—” Whatever Pope was about to say was cut off as JJ cranked up the radio as loud as it could go, drowning out the other man’s complaints. 

So yeah, being a firefighter in a big city looked different from day to day. Some days held bigger calls than others, but sometimes it was the smaller calls that were the most memorable. Days like today. 

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[wonjns]

uncanny ii. resemblance ∯

♡° pairing. . .  lee heeseung x male reader

♡° genre. . . smut, fluff, angst

♡° summary. . . so you ended up with your twin sister’s boyfriend... what a turn of events. heeseung is definitely your dream guy, but little did you expect all of what exactly would unfold once you got him.

♡° includes. . . bottom!reader, even more horny bisexual hee!! lmao, lots & lots of kissing, dry humping, possessive heeseung, finger sucking, car sex (almost), blow job, orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex (dont irl!!)

♡° wc. . . 7k

°A/N. . . requested by many !! months & months later... finally 😮💨, i am so happy to be posting this!! i had no idea that so many of you would enjoy Uncanny, & i never intended on adding a second part. im just so mad it took me so long to write— so i’m sorry guys, i really hope its not awful !!!

                                  . . . .% Part 1 ♡ % . . . .

ㅤ

“so.... you two are now... dating...?”  

three pairs of very beady yet confused eyes lingered before you in your family living room. their glances examined you head to toe, along with a certain 6' ft male who stood beside you. 

you could feel your palm growing clammy in heeseung’s hold as you both timidly nodded, desperate to read the intent behind the deadpanned expression on your parents’ faces.

despite heeseung’s tall and stronger build, he almost felt his weakening knees give from beneath him as he caught eye contact with your sister-- his ex-- who had an ominously suspicious look on her face. he had seen this expression on her quite often, but was never the recipient. it was less than ideal. 

“well, y/n, do you really like him?” your mother chimed, her puzzled tone cracking the silence. 

all you could do was nod once again, slightly more fervently at the question. if only ‘like’ was enough to describe your feelings for the equally-as-nervous boy who stood fiddling with your fingers.  

“and heeseung? do you really like my son?” your father spoke up this time, eyebrows transfixed as he sunk deeper into his leather recliner. 

heeseung found himself only able to offer a shy nod as well, the soles of his shoes feeling as if they were hovering over lava from the heat of the atmosphere. 

“words, son.” your dad sternly quipped. 

it was unbelievable to heeseung how these two adults, whom he'd usually seen as secondary parents, suddenly felt like stone cold, life-sentencing supremes.

“yes–” the poor boy coughed, clearing his throat. “yes sir.” 

the fluttering of your heart after hearing his confession out loud threatened to distract you from the anxiety that surged through your nerves, but one glance up at your sister snatched you back to reality.

you couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. normally, you and your twin shamelessly spilled everything you thought and felt to one another without a second thought - but you could only feel like shit as your mind resurfaced flashbacks of heeseung working your body in ways you’d only dreamt about, while your sibling, who just so happened to be his former lover, lingered cluelessly outside your room.

you and the older male had debated often after your first hookup whether or not this was something you guys should make public, out of fear of what your sister would think. 

but you knew you were too in love with heeseung– and always have been, to keep things suppressed. especially since neither of you showed signs of leaving what happened as a simple one night stand. so you chose the route of honesty, which lead you to the painfully awkward confession in front of your high council of family members.

“okay.” your mother, sister, and father chirped in a perky unison.

the air shifted, the imaginary weight your shoulders bore suddenly vanishing into nothingness. 

“okay!?” you and heeseung blurted in an equally perplexed harmony.

“yeah, okay!” your sister responded, on her own this time.

she uncrossed her folded arms, picking up the laundry basket she was previously interrupted from lugging to her room. “whatever keeps mr. clingy out of my hair so often. he’s a lot like an abandoned puppy at times, you know... was starting to get a bit draining.” 

“i’m... right here, you know.” heeseung mumbled out in response to your sister’s teasing. you noticed the tint of his cheeks growing red and couldn’t help but softly chuckle.

“honey, don’t be a bully.” your dad replied before your parents emitted a couple giggles themselves. 

“i’m sure what she meant to say was,” your mother started, standing to grab her purse and approach heeseung. “we love having you around. you’ve been a part of this family for some time now, so as long as you take care of our son as well as you did our daughter, there’s no reason for us to not give you our blessing.” 

and with that, she gave heeseung and yourself a quick peck to the cheeks before sauntering out of the room. she was followed shortly by the others, leaving just the two of you motionless as mannequins; both dumbfounded. 

that was... easy. too easy.

the back of your head landed gently against your pillows as heeseung pressed a deep kiss into your lips, giddy giggles escaping the both of you. 

the taller male’s hands casually roamed under your tank top as his mouth nearly swallowed you whole, pliantly groaning as he felt your fingers dance into his locks. his confidence was through the roof, the adrenaline from the confession still running ramped through his bones. 

he rolled his hips flush into yours, smirking into the makeout after absorbing one of your small whimpers. 

“what... even just happened?” you sighed out as heeseung moved to nip at your jaw. 

“i have no fucking clue.” he chuckled between nibbles on your sensitive skin, tracing over the area under your ear with his eager tongue.

you moaned, tugging his head back to reconnect your lips and feel that very tongue glide over yours. you reveled in the feeling of his hands massaging you beneath your shirt, not even the slightest bit surprised when he lifted it high enough to place kisses on your tummy.

“i just don’t- seriously... how did we pull that off??” you babbled, genuinely baffled while heeseung adjusted between your legs into an easier position for planting pecks along your hips.

he hummed into your skin, propping one of your legs around his torso. “i don’t know, i guess we’re way better than we thought.” 

heeseung’s kisses started growing hungrier, and he took the liberty to suck a few marks on the surface of your stomach amidst your confused rambling. your hips started instinctively rolling into his chest, and you bit back a moan from the friction of your member grinding against his solid pecs. 

“seunggie, wait, literally everyone is still home...” 

“so? we got the green light, didn’t we?” the boy taunts before playfully tugging on the waistband of your shorts. 

you chuckle before nudging his hands away, scooting yourself back to sit up against your bed’s headboard. “i think so... but let’s talk about that first.”

heeseung huffed while blinking his gorgeous lashes at you, dramatically hovering above the empty silhouette of where your body was. 

“talk about...?”

“well, the word my parents used. dating.” you uttered as if it were a curse word. 

“you... want to talk about the word ‘dating’?” he questioned, shifting to prop his head up with an elbow. 

“not the word itself, stupid- i just..... i think-” you stumbled, laughing to yourself while also resisting that familiar rosy blush from spreading on your cheeks. "i think if we’re officially a thing...”

heeseung hesitatingly nodded along with your words, his beautiful brown orbs watching you intently as if he was trying to read your mind. 

“then shouldn’t we, like, do the things people who date do before we keep messing around? like,, don’t we have to do that sappy couple stuff before sex?” 

heeseung couldn’t help but release a loud chuckle at your adorableness, attempting to muffle it in a nearby pillow. god, you wanted to at least pretend to be aggravated, but his laugh was just too damn cute. 

“you’ve never dated anyone, have you?” he asked when he eventually finished his cackles. 

“...is it that obvious?” you chime, your signature blush undeniably as present as ever. 

the older boy cooed at you, quickly sitting up and pulling you into the empty space between his lap. he pecked your lips, running his thumb along the bridge of your nose and fondly examining your flustered face, a little too long for your liking, before finally speaking up. 

“i mean, if my baby boy wants a date, then that’s what we’ll do. you’re right, we should get to know each other more first.”

you wanted to melt into a puddle and trickle all over his lap right then and there, and absolutely would if you physically could. you felt small, but protected, under heeseung’s gaze. something about the way he looked at you made your insides ignite with a feeling you’d never felt so intensely before, and you started to realize you were down… bad.

“okay!” you triumphed brightly.

you cupped your hands around his neck, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead before staring back into his eyes. 

“where do you wanna go?” heeseung inquired, nonchalantly leaning back on his arms propped behind him. 

“i don’t know? we just established i’m the one who’s never done this before!” you admitted while shifting your eyes down to his prominent adams apple, grazing your finger over it. 

“fine, it’ll be a surprise. and you’re gonna love it. this friday.”  

everything just sounded so cool coming from him, and he spoke in that careless manner that was just too hot to keep you focused. 

“perfect,” you feigned confidence, having transitioned to fiddling with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “and... no more kissing until then.” 

heeseung let out an exaggerated gasp, eyebrows furrowing at you.

you could only chuckle before being completely tackled back into your mattress, your boyfriend’s lips as relentless as ever. 

so much for that rule. 

two weeks later, you and heeseung were sickeningly attached by the hips— and lips— more than ever. 

the boy had swooped you off your feet in every sense of the term. he took you on your first date, a dual movie-picnic date on his front lawn wrapped in warm blankets (all too cliché, but still didn’t fail to spark a storm of butterflies in your stomach), which led to your second. and then third. and then fourth... and they only got better each time.

after living a long, agonizing year of being secretly infatuated with him, you weren’t sure if it were physically possible to even fall for this guy any more.

yet, you were wrong. 

through solely a few mere weeks, myriad of walks around town, and late night drives, you were seeing so many more sides of heeseung than you could’ve imagined. his charms, humor, honesty, chivalry, and even his flaws. you were taking in all of it. and he was learning so much more about you, beyond the fact of being the former love of his life’s twin brother.

you were growing obsessed with each other, and it showed. at no point in the day could heeseung keep his hands to himself anymore, and you were hardly complaining.

it even came down to the time you had to actually pry his lips from your neck in a public restaurant so that a stunned waitress, the unfortunate soul to serve your table, could finally take your order.

he just loved to show you off;

no matter where you were. 

his tinge of possessiveness was a bit embarrassing at first, but god it was kinda hot. you were so caught up in the total package of lee heeseung that you hardly had sense to worry about anything else; not caring if you were in the seclusion of your rooms or a grocery store parking lot when he would snake one of his hands down your pants to greet your erection.

every little thing he did drove you crazy, and even more so vice versa.

little did you know, heeseung was operating from a slightly different source of obsession.

you sat in the passenger seat of heeseung's red mercedes, soft rnb music playing through your boyfriend's speakers as one of his hands securely held the back of your neck while he lathered your lips in passionate, lustful kisses.

you moaned as heeseung swirled his tongue in your mouth, taking his sweet time in tasting you and using his free hand to guide yours down to his crotch. you were hesitant, but couldn't resist pressing your palm to his member to feel how hard he already was.

heeseung exhaled from the pleasure, wasting no time in maneuvering your hand beneath his waistband. he swallowed a gasp that escaped your lips once he started shamelessly bucking his hips up into your hold.

it took strength, but you willed yourself to break apart from the kiss and give him a nervous look, considering the two of you were parked in front of his parent's house in broad daylight.

"babe," you spoke, catching your breath. "we're about to go inside, we shouldn't."

your boyfriend smirked at you, hearing your warning but noticing how you still hadn't retracted your hand from inside his pants. his eyes also caught the slowly forming tent in your own jeans.

"exactly, that's why we should get this out of the way now." he half whined, needily leaning over into your space and tugging at your hips. "my mom takes forever to get dinner ready, you know I can't wait."

his plush lips were immediately on your neck before you could rebut, him aiming straight for your weak spot. damn, he knew exactly how to kill your resolve in an instant.

you rolled your eyes, partially from annoyance but also from the way he groaned while sucking on your soft flesh. you fumbled a bit, climbing over the center console and settling atop of his thighs. his satisfied grin only grew wider before rushing to capture your lips again, his kisses as addicting as ever.

heeseung's large hands roamed up and down your back as he widened his jaw to deepen the kiss, and quickly settled them on your hips to grind you forwards on his lap.

your arms found purchase on his broad shoulders as you molded your mouths more fervently. heeseung repeated the action in a rhythm, pleased by how simple it was to get reactions out of you.

jolts of excitement tingled through your legs as your clothed bulges ran along each other, the feeling heavenly as you began bucking your hips on your own accord without his assistance. heeseung's hands snuck their way under your shirt and returned to roaming your back. he gently dragged his short nails along your skin, causing goosebumps to grow array all over you.

your own hands began unbuttoning his flannel and dipping under his collar, the familiar smoothness of his shoulders warm on your fingertips, helping settle your anxieties of being seen by the neighbors, or worse– his own parents who were inside the house mere steps away.

you couldn't understand how heeseung always had you in these sort of positions, but judging from the rock hard length pressing between your thighs, he was clearly into it.

heeseung could still feel your nervousness, and leaned back amused as he watched the embarrassment and pleasure battle for dominance on your face. he kissed the tip of your nose and chuckled.

"your sister used to love making out to this song." he mumbled in a low tone, dipping down to wrap his lips around your adams apple while simultaneously turning up the radio's volume.

you could barely register the odd statement as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering closed when heeseung started suckling and licking on the column of your throat in sync with the melodic tune that filled the car. 

it was bliss, but just as you felt yourself drawing close to your high, the sentence rang through your head again.

your sister? this song? in this car?

suddenly, the image of your sister being in your exact same position– which she undoubtedly had been in several times before, flashed through your mind.

it caused you to jolt a little bit. heeseung paid no mind to the sudden action, thinking it was another one of your cute responses to his ministrations.

"uhm... hee?" your hips slowed to a halt, a bit of that familiar guilt settling into you again.

at first you thought it was just mindless sex talk, but as you had delved deeper into your official relationship with heeseung, you caught on to how often he would still talk about your twin, consistently making comparisons and recalling similarities between the two of you.

he wasn't necessarily wrong, but it was getting weirder as it progressed. you had just convinced yourself it was natural due to how similar you were with your sibling, and kept things pushing without dwelling on it for too long.

"hee?" you spoke again, opening your eyes when you hadn't gotten a response.

he hummed against your neck, sloppy kisses never ending in the crook of your neck. you managed to draw back, gently pushing his shoulders to disconnect from his lips. he looked at you quizzically, yet adoration still beaming in his eyes.

"i've been meaning to talk to you about-"

you were cut off by the abnormally loud ringing of his cell phone, which sat lodged in one of the car's cup holders. he sighed, telling you to wait just a moment when he read the caller id.

"hello? yeah mom, we just pulled up. we're coming in now." he exhaled, gently rubbing your thigh.

a huff of disappointment left your nose, but you were semi-grateful you didn't actually have to have the awkward conversion right before meeting his parents.

you gathered yourself back together, clasping the first few buttons of heeseung's shirt back together for him as he flattened the small wrinkles on yours.

he opened the car door, helping you climb out of his lap and onto the pavement, where you readjusted yourself in the reflection of the car's glass.

"after you, prince." heeseung gestured to his home's front door.

"but, it's your house." you responded.

"yeah, but... mom likes it when people make strong first impressions." the older boy grinned.

you took your bottom lip in between your teeth, a pool of nervousness returning to your gut as you realized you really had never met heeseung's parents before.

sure, they were all too familiar with your sister from their year together, but you were an entirely different story - an entirely more complicated story.

you knocked on the large glass front door nervously, heeseung standing just behind your shoulder. he leaned down to whisper.

"they don't take to strangers very well. if you get scared, tap my leg. they can be pretty tough."

heeseung was a liar. 

you had received nothing but beaming smiles and suffocating hugs as soon as you stepped through the door. 

you had prepared to walk into a homophobic hellfire, not knowing what sort of glares and comments would be thrown your way. setting the fact that you were a boy aside, you still had plenty to worry about.

heeseung left a committed relationship, albeit not by his own choice, just to end up with his girlfriend’s brother was quite a unique situation - yet it seems his parents hadn’t even thought about that as they chattered away through dinner table conversation. shit, the wholesome smile you were met with the second his mom opened the door would be tattooed in your mind forever.

“so, y/n dear, heeseung hasn’t been giving you too much trouble now, has he?” his mother asked as she cut her steak into tiny pieces from across the table. 

“our son can be so lazy sometimes,” his dad chimed in with a chuckle. “gotta make sure he’s not constantly slacking off.”

you laughed, feeling like heeseung was being regarded as your new employee. you caught a slight frown on his face from his parents teasing, and you reached up to run your hand through his hair. 

“i guess you could say he isn’t too bad.” 

he looked to you quickly, an adoring smile growing, seemingly grateful you hadn’t joined in his parent’s shenanigans. or so he thought. 

“except for when he takes forever to get out of bed. or to go run errands. or to-”

“alright!” he huffed, frustratingly spooning some food together on his plate.

you all erupted with laughter, he was so cute when he pouted. it was nice seeing lee heeseung, the confident athlete, get all blushy and shy around his parents - his usual commanding demeanor nowhere to be found as he sheepishly shoveled broccoli into his cheeks. yet another side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but made you fall just a little more.

you found yourself in heeseung’s room after dinner, a surprise to no one, after helping his parents clean the dishes afterwards. 

you had taken the opportunity to spend more time laughing and teasing heeseung alongside his parents, so it was no shocker that he quickly whisked you away to his own private space - desperate to have all of your attention fully on him.

you giggled as you were ushered into his bedroom, his hands never leaving your waist until the door was securely shut. 

“your parents are so much fun.” you beamed at the taller boy whose blush still lingered on his face. 

“yeah, probably a little too much fun.” he huffed, walking over and plopping on his bed.

your eyes fondly gazed around his bedroom, surprisingly still somewhat childlike, figurines and pictures of his youth still lining the shelves. a genuine smile grew on your face. you really shouldn’t be shocked, he did often have the tendencies of a big baby.

“you know, mr. lee, you’re not all that of a tough guy.” you commented, reaching up to examine one of his action figures.

“oh, really? what makes you think that?” he chuckled back, discreetly unbuttoning his shirt while you were distracted.

“yeah… i don’t know why you put up the act so often, you’re really just a little softie. like i remember whe-” the words halted in their tracks when you turned to taunt him more, but froze at the view of his toned abs glaring right at you, jeans slightly lowered on his hips. 

“is that so?” he responded lowly, tilting his head to the side. “why don’t you bring that little ass over here and see how much of a softie i really am?” 

his words sent a wave of arousal straight to your cock, which you immediately tried to will from springing to action so quickly.

you let out a half-spirited scoff, trying to appear unbothered as he sat there and widened his legs while staring you down. but damn, the golden evening light that shone through his window was hitting him in all the right places. his solid abdomen lured you in while he lolled his head back, teasing you with the prominent grooves of his neck that had you practically squeezing your legs together. 

damnit, he was temptation personified – too effortlessly hot for you to resist.

before you knew it your legs brought you to stand between his. he cocked an eyebrow before giving you another annoyingly sexy smirk and nodding his chin towards your own top. 

“off.”

your face instantly surged with heat, but you couldn’t help but obey with the sudden authority he spoke with. in seconds your shirt was discarded and on the floor by his feet, a chill crawling across your topless chest. 

“you know, i’m not really a fan of how much you used my parents to tease me tonight,” he said monotonously, raking a warm hand up your exposed torso. “i think you were enjoying it wayyy too much.”

his thumb found one of your perked nipples, rubbing in firm circles. you moaned at the sensation, just to hurriedly cover your mouth with your own hand, the realization that you were at his parents’ house hitting you once again. 

“hee… wait.” you responded, attempting to take a step back. 

heeseung only chuckled before catching you still with his free arm, continuing to play with your sensitive bud. 

“where’s all the laughter now? you were having so much fun earlier, remember? let's keep that fun going.”

your boyfriend then leaned in to run his warm tongue over your other exposed nipple, causing you to hold back another whimper as your hands flew to his hair. he pulled your body closer as he started suckling on the bud, and you didn’t have it in you to fight it anymore. once he started working his mouth on you like this, you were puddy.

you cursed how weak you were to his actions, but even he could sense how badly you wanted him at all times.

“s-someones the jealous type, huh?” you stuttered, sounding way less intimidating than you wanted. “even over your parents, hm?”

he released your bud with a wet pop, dark eyes shooting straight up to yours before returning his lustful gaze to your body. your limbs started to quake with desire.

“how could i not be? when i have all of this just for me…”

both of his hands held your hips as he licked a long, teasing strip up your torso before finishing it with a peck to your chest. he locked eyes with you again, his determined pupils staring deep into your trembling, desperate ones. he enunciated his next words slow and smooth, like honey.

“just… for… me…” 

you pounced first. you couldn’t take it anymore, the alluring mischief in his eyes and addictive touch all over your physique had you grinding your topless bodies together like animals. your limbs entangled with his as your mouths waged war together, the possessive bites against your lips sending your mind into a daze. 

he effortlessly flipped you over, taking the advantage to grind down on you even stronger one last time before working the zipper of your jeans. he stripped the both of you down to your boxers in record time, licking his lips as he watched you begin to palm your own growing bulge - putting on a show for him. 

“you’re going to absolutely kill me.” heeseung muttered, trying to control the raging need surging throughout him.

“your parents might do that for me, if they catch us.” you speak with a newfound confidence, hiding the fact that you were completely mortified of that exact occurrence. 

heeseung chuckled before shimmying your last layer of underwear off, leaving you fully exposed for him as he lowered his own and started pumping his unbelievably large member. 

“we won’t have to worry about it if you can stay quiet, prince.”

you thought heeseung was about to just dive into you raw as he lowered his muscular body to yours, but relaxed when you felt him reach under his pillow to grab a bottle of lube. your eyes grew wide. 

“you planned this!” you gasped, fauxing a complaint.

“shh shhh.” heeseung hushed you, tapping his fingers against your lips. 

narrowing your gaze at him, you didn’t hesitate to trap his fingers between your lips, emitting a low groan from your throat as you ran your tongue over his digits. you successfully caught him off guard, if his quiet gasp was anything to go by, but a sly grin crept on his face.

“naughty boy, trying to do my job for me. are you that excited?” he commented before yanking his digits from your mouth, chuckling at your pout. 

he leaned down to swiftly place a flurry of pecks on your plump lips while lubing his fingers up, right before he reached down to push them into your entrance. you moaned into the air much louder than before, causing his other hand to toss the bottle of lube and clamp your mouth shut. 

“god, baby, do you want them to hear us? control yourself.” he smirked, finding all too much pleasure in the way your eyes rolled back when he began pumping his digits in and out of you.  

a mantra of muffled sounds flew from your mouth into heeseung’s palm, and thankfully so, since your body had already compromised your self control. when he finally pulled his fingers from your ass, you whined at the loss of contact. 

“heeseung, please fuck me already. please.” you breathlessly begged once he removed his palm from your mouth.

again, heeseung mercilessly chuckled down at your state. 

“such a needy boy… so fucked out and i haven’t even done much.” 

you wanted to banter back like you usually would, but this man had already reduced you into such a desperate mess with nothing but a couple minutes and his hands. he learned so quickly how your body worked, and how much of an affect his words had on you. once you were turned on by him, you wanted– needed every ounce of him as soon as you could have him. 

feeling merciful, heeseung lined up his girth with your entrance, pushing in slowly. this time, it was an equal struggle for both of you to keep yourselves quiet, the size of his length and intense look into your eyes causing you to melt while your hole sucked him in so desperately. 

“fuck, fuck. still such a tight ass. my boyfriend really loves my cock, hm?” heeseung grunted, trying to keep himself together when he saw tears of pleasure form at the corner of your eyes.

you nodded your head, unable to form words at the pleasurable pain you felt. your fingers curled into his dark locs as he lowered his head to sink his teeth into your neck, sucking marks there in order to keep quiet. you were fighting with everything in you to not scream and beg him for more, for him to fully consume you. 

“h-hee,” you whined, trying to keep it a whisper. “more.”

your hands sprawled along his toned back, feeling his muscles ripple as he began rutting his hips into yours, releasing deep moans into your neck. the vibration had you feel like you were levitating, a sensation only heeseung seemed to bring you. 

legs sliding along his strong thighs, you wrapped them around his torso as he picked up in speed, your vision blurring over at his power. 

“you’re so sexy, baby. sucking me in so well, making me lose my fucking mind.” he commented between the harsh nips along your jaw, sweat starting to bead around his forehead.  “what if my parents came in here and saw me wrecking you like this? would you like that? my mom seeing me do all of this to you right here after breaking up with your sister.”

you squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as he spoke, causing you to moan out loud once feeling your leaky cock rub against his solid abs. before heeseung could shush you, you clenched down on his fat length while your liquids shot out over his chest - him finding the moment so hot that it was only a second before he was emptying out in you as well. 

he collapsed on top of you after as you both silently gasped for breath, but you welcomed the crushing feeling. 

you couldn’t believe you just screwed him in his childhood room, with his parents just on the other side of the door, praying they didn’t hear you. but knowing how turned on heeseung was by risks, you should’ve known this was gonna be how the night would end.

after just sitting in eachothers embrace for a while, you finally sat up, heeseung leaning over to place even more kisses on your glossed over lips, never getting enough of you. 

“lets get cleaned up and head to bed, prince. my parent’s already know you’re staying the night.” 

“staying the night?” you questioned tilted your head. you saw another sinister glint in his eye as he kissed you one more time.

“yeah, you still gotta meet my grandparents tomorrow.”

you drug your feet through the threshold of your home, utterly exhausted. it had been a long day of class, filled with a suspicious amount of exams and lectures compared to normal, but you were relieved to finally be done with the day. 

heeseung had texted you just as you had begun driving home, telling you he was already at your place helping your dad with chores around the house. you smiled to yourself, still giddy over how perfect he was and thankful for the loving relationship between him and your family – you couldn’t wait to finally see him after such a draining day. 

it was oddly silent as you walked through the house, failing to have found heeseung when visiting your parent’s room in hopes to collapse in his arms as soon as possible. 

you heard giggling rise in volume as you crossed the house and neared your room. you drew closer to your door, hearing muffled sounds just behind it. when you curiously turned the doorknob, the sight of heeseung looming over your twin sister, mouth practically devouring her, caused you to stand frozen - blood running cold under your skin. 

you stood speechless, tears beginning to well as you watched their lips passionately interlock in a noisy makeout just like they had done months before, tongues brazenly running along each other as wanton moans filling the atmosphere. 

you tried to speak but could only choke out a sob, your knees threatening to betray you. heeseung and your sister paused, turning their heads towards you after hearing the sound. they both stared at you pathetically, and simply chuckled before heeseung returned his grip on your own headboard, continuing to thrust his tongue into your sister’s mouth - the latter resuming to claw at your boyfriend’s naked back and moaning smugly.

you were stunned, and wanted to scream, cry, or throw anything you could get your hands on at them… 

but instead, you woke up. 

your body jolted up in bed, met with a dimmed room and a ray of moonlight beaming onto you - reflecting a sheen of sweat on your face. 

glancing around the darkened room, your eyes found the clock at read 1:25 am. not far from your line of sight was heeseung himself sprawled out beside you, softly snoring away with an arm draped over your waist. you noticed you were in one of his baggy shirts, the previously comforting smell almost causing you to grow nauseous. 

you couldn’t control your breathing, stinging feelings of betrayal and embarrassment still burning in your gut from your dream - rather, nightmare.

you let out a deep sigh once you finally realized everything you had seen in your sleep state wasn’t real… everything except the tears. you felt salty droplets drip from your chin and onto heeseung’s arm, who began to stir. 

humiliated, you tried to shuffle back down into your prior position in order to avoid waking up heeseung, failing to soften your fast breathing or stop your flow of tears. 

but alas, as if your uncomfortability set off an inner alarm of his, heeseung had awoken. you felt him lean up on his elbow, arm lazily pulling you towards him. 

“whats wrong, y/n?” he asked in a groggy voice. 

immediately, another stream of tears raced down your cheek at the sound of his voice. it was embarrassing how worked up you had managed to get from a simple dream, but you almost felt sick even being this close to him, although he had done nothing wrong. 

it had finally become too much; your insecurity and constant comparisons to your sister had caught up to you. the continuous chipping away at your rose-colored view of heeseung had ultimately found you, and it hurt like a bitch. your intrusive thoughts were convincing you that you were nothing but a rebound-by-blood, a second best option.

refusing to have heeseung see you like this - a sobbing mess in the middle of the night, you remained facing away from him, not answering his initial call. 

“y/n.” he spoke again, a little more cognisant. he turned your body over, squinting at you through the dim lighting, before his eyes gently widened. “what happened? bad dream?” 

he was right, but it was more so your subconscious so cruelly giving you a visionary of what you had secretly been scared of this whole time. sitting up, you wiped away the wet streaks on your face. 

“heeseung… do you like me?” 

the older male furrowed his brows. “babe, what? i-” 

“im serious. do you like, me?” you insisted, doubt slithering its way onto your expression. 

“where the hell is this coming from?” heeseung sighed, pushing himself to fully sit up. 

“everytime we’re together, you always talk about her. how much i look like her, sound like her, the things i do… the things we do…"

as much as it pained you to finally ask this question out loud, you couldn't keep it in anymore.

"you’re not over my sister, are you?” 

your beady eyes held a tundra of anxiety in them, with heeseung’s almost bulging out of his head. 

“you make me feel like i’m not even my own person, hee.” you continued, voice cracking between sobs. “you’re still hung up on her and you just use me, don't you? just to feel like you’re still close to her.”

heeseung was baffled at your accusation, and was ready to rebut everything, until a wave of awareness crashed over him. his gaze softened, hearing the doubt and self-consciousness in your voice. he turned his body to face you directly. 

“y/n. i won’t lie to you. when your sister dumped me, my entire world felt like it was shattering. i had gotten use to a life with her, and i did have genuinely strong feelings for her… i thought she was my everything.” 

you could feel yet another dam breaking behind your eyelids, closing them shut in order to keep the waterworks from flowing. 

“but,” he spoke firmly, taking both of your hands in his before you could retract them. “i love you, y/n. i love you. when i started seeing you, i did think it would just be a way for me to move on, but you are amazing. so fucking amazing. everything you do, all you've done for others,, i’ve fallen so fucking hard for the person that you are. you’ve made me feel things she never did, and never could. i’m sorry i’d been so caught up on your sister before, i guess i just wasn’t ready to move on as soon as i thought. but there is absolutely nobody i’d rather be with than you… right now, in this moment. i promise you that with every fiber of my entire being.”

with that, the well overflowed, streams of tears treading down your skin and landing on the interlocked knuckles of you and heeseung. you knew telling the truth, his words smashing down and easing away each wall of doubt you had in your mind. 

you were so unbelievably in love with this man, and a tender wave of relief radiated throughout your body when you caught the reassuring smile he gave you, closing the distance to attach your lips in a loving kiss.

the kiss deepened as you grabbed the sides of his face, pouring all of your emotions into the gates of his lips, melting into the comfort of his affection. his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you under him, meeting no resistance. 

he moaned into your mouth when you licked at his lips, letting you in easily. he kissed you sensually, slower than any other time before, refusing to detach your mouths until you absolutely needed to breathe.

“never gonna make you doubt how much i love you again,” he whispered into your neck as he started laying sweet kisses to your soft skin, hands gently roaming every inch of you. 

his supple lips felt like heaven as they followed his path down your body, taking his time to suck marks into every inch as he lowered himself. when he reached your hips he left wet open-mouthed kisses along the waistband of your boxers, looking up at you with his beautiful orbs for permission as his hands tugged at the seams. 

the butterflies returned when you nodded at him, running your hands along the grooves of his biceps. he removed your underwear, not wasting any time in placing kisses to your shaft, chills shooting up your spine at the sensation. his nose poked at your pelvis as he lightly dragged his lips up to your tip, before taking your length whole in his mouth. 

you gasped as the warmth of his mouth, hardly having the energy to react to the pleasure. your head fell to the side of the pillow as your erection was soothed over by heeseung’s talented tongue, flattening along your member licking up and down before he started bobbing his head. 

his large hands kept your body still from squirming as he showed your cock attention, occasionally humming and sending more waves of electricity through your legs. 

“feel s’good… gonna come.” you muttered not long after he started, only causing a satisfied groan to rumble through his throat. 

he released your member and lowered just to prod his tongue at your rim, before suckling gently on your balls and recapturing your cock in his mouth in one swift motion. a couple more strokes of his precise tongue and you were spilling into heeseung’s mouth, shuddering when he didn’t waste a drop. 

he repositioned back above your body, and you had only then noticed he’d slept in just his boxers, his neck chain dangling in front of your face. you ran your hands up his toned torso, once again growing obsessed with the feeling of his skin on yours.

the look of utter adoration in his eyes felt heavy on your form, and you could already feel yourself wanting more when he dipped down to place searing kisses to your jaw and grind your hips together.

“i love you baby, let me keep making you feel good.” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe while reaching down to stroke your member back to attention.

“please, baby. i love you too. and i want you so bad, forever.” you admitted, feeling the breath of a light chuckle against your cheek.

just as you wished, his thick length had entered you, gliding along your walls in no time with a delicious friction that you never got tired of. except this time, more than just desire and arousal, the friction brought a comfort, a feeling of love you could feel surging throughout your whole body.

“you can have all of me, whenever you want, prince. i belong only to you.”

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[hard-core-super-star]

May I please request that Hailee and reader are in a secret relationship, and hailee is on instagram live, fans can hear movement and voices in the background and keep asking hailee whose with her.

meet me there, i'll give you your roses [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: just because you two are supposed to be keeping your relationship a secret doesn't mean you can't have some fun with it.

warnings: none, just fluff; secret relationship shenanigans; weird descriptions of an instagram live chat; still can't write endings :)

wordcount: 1k

a/n: full disclosure, the title has nothing to do with the fic at all, i'm just spreading the måneskin agenda. i sort of messed around with the point of view in this fic, it might not be noticeable but just wanted to point it out in case it's confusing. it's more hailee-centric than my other fics instead of it just being about R's thoughts. you'll see what i mean, hope you enjoy! <3

* * * * * * *

Hailee’s eyes are trained on the screen of her phone while she tells the most ridiculously random story she could think of. It’s been far too long since the last time she did an Instagram Live and her excitement at getting to interact with her fans again is more than a little obvious.

Free time has been harder and harder to find between all the photoshoots and interviews, especially considering there's only one person she wants to talk to when her schedule allows it.

“And then y/n had to come in and-”

You look up at the sound of your name. You hadn’t been paying much attention to her story, too busy looking through food delivery apps and trying to decide what to have for dinner.

The original plan was to cook something for dinner but a certain someone decided to do an impulsive Live instead and so the plan was scrapped. Not that you mind. Hailee’s skill in the kitchen is…a work in progress, at least when it comes to potato peels.

Her eyes meet yours almost as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking about. You half expect her to stick her tongue out at you but doing that would only lead to more questions she can’t answer.

You offer her a smile instead before the two of you go back to looking at your respective phones.

Hailee resumes her story, pretending she got distracted by one of her dogs and not her lovely girlfriend. It’s practically impossible to act like she can’t see all the questions pouring in about who she was actually looking at but she manages. (It’s not like acting is her job or anything)

The questions and comments flying by her screen should be annoying or at the very least overwhelming but she ends up finding them quite entertaining. She’s not about to pretend like questions about her sexuality or who she’s dating are anything new but at least now they’re less straightforward (no pun intended) than when she was on Dickinson.

At least she's not actually trying to keep things a secret this time. She's just waiting for the right time. Although the waiting gets harder every time you look at her like she's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. She'd be upset if she wasn't aware that's exactly how she looks at you.

She tries to keep your name out of her mouth for at least a few minutes to not look super obvious but she fails miserably. “Where’s y/n?” She reads the question out loud before she can stop herself. “I don't know, probably burning down the apartment.”

An offended gasp comes from the side of the room where you're standing and you know you're kidding yourself if you think her phone didn't pick up the sound.

The look she sends your way says as much and you mentally curse yourself. Although, to be completely honest, if there's one thing you both love more than each other it's feeding the theories about your relationship.

The both of you should definitely be more careful if you don't want to get found out but creating chaos within her fandom is just too much fun. Plus, the only reason you two are sneaking around is because Hailee wants to come out ‘the right way’. Whatever that means.

(You're pretty sure it means a song and a music video featuring you but your girlfriend has been very tight-lipped about her music since SunKissing came out. A song that very well serves as a coming out announcement in your opinion.)

You decide to fix your mistake by turning people's attention elsewhere so you open up Instagram and click on Hailee’s profile. You can hear the chuckle she tries to hold back once she reads your comment.

yourusername: are you insulting my cooking skills again, Steinfeld?

The chat explodes into a flurry of comments that a certain pair of brown eyes can't keep up with.

“I'm just telling people the truth,” she replies. “There's a reason you always order food instead of cooking.”

yourusername: yeah. you never wash the dishes

“Oh, that's low.”

She forgets the game you're playing for a second, looking up to glare at you. Her eyes don't end up meeting yours since you're too busy staring down at your phone.

A small smile spreads along her face as she admires you. Even in the middle of teasing her in front of her fans, you're the most amazing thing she's ever laid eyes on. Eyes that give away the fact that she's not home alone like she originally said she was.

She looks back at her phone just in time to catch sight of the many questions she has to avoid. Such as,”Who are you looking at? Is y/n at your place? Are you having dinner together?”

She ignores them all except the one that comes from the person who owns her heart.

yourusername: so, what are YOU cooking for dinner, chef steinfeld???

The response she comes up with is definitely a bad idea but it slips out anyway. “I don't know. What do you want for dinner?”

She tries to cover up the sound of your laugh by ‘accidentally’ kicking some of Martini’s squeaky dog toys. It's a bad coverup but it's the only choice she has. It would be a lot more believable if her dogs weren't asleep in the bedroom.

yourusername: too late, i already ordered cheeseburgers

“Marry me right now,” she replies, her smile turning into a slight smirk.

You know she's messing around but your heart still skips a couple of beats as you type out your response.

yourusername: i'll think about it ;)

The doorbell rings just in time.

You let her wrap up the Live as you pick up your food. By the time you come back, her phone is gone and she's already curled up on the couch scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.

“That was fast,” you say.

She shrugs. “Thought I should help you reconsider my proposal.”

“Food first, proposal later.” You hand the bag holding your dinner over to her.

“Seriously, y/n, could you be any more perfect?”

The laugh that escapes you is enough of an answer for her. You're everything she's ever wanted.

[yanderes-galore]

Can you please make a yandere stormcutter with a stormcutter darling concept /hcs please romantic please (yan storm cutter could be male or female I’m fine with either )

( I like the hc that stormcutters are rare to find cause Stoick killed half of them since it was a stormcutter who took Valka ) 🍪anon

Yandere dragon x dragon time again everyone, here you go. I didn't make it very long as I'm not the best with dragon x dragon pairings but I did what I could!

Yandere! Stormcutter with Stormcutter! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Dragon courting, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Stalking, Mentioned mates, Blood, Forced relationship.

For this concept I will utilize your HC.

I also like the idea that, like Night Furies, Stormcutters were hunted to the point they're rare.

Not near extinction like the Night Fury but the population took a hit.

Maybe you're a tamed dragon or a wild dragon who ends up picking up the scent of another Stormcutter.

Curious by this development you follow the scent only to see another Stormcutter resting.

Both of you are surprised and intrigued to see another of your species.

Which ends up making you both attached to each other at first.

Yandere dragons towards other dragons typically follow a specific behavior.

They are possessive and usually intend to court you eventually.

Stormcutters are intelligent, proud, and confident.

They can be sweet and friendly or aggressive when they need to be.

They are also naturally curious.

This dragon type is usually very isolated, they don't usually interact with other dragons.

But since you both haven't really seen a fellow Stormcutter you're both curious of one another.

For this concept I will assume you are a tamed dragon with a rider.

Your rider is curious as to why you sneaked off to track a scent.

Imagine their surprised when they see another Stormcutter.

Despite you being tamed and the wild one is not, they still express mating behaviors towards you.

Your rider no doubt sees this and is intrigued by the fact this wild dragon is courting you.

You show disinterest for the most part but that doesn't stop the wild Stormcutter from rubbing against you, cooing softly.

It's a bit hard for me to write dragon x dragon pairs but the gist of it is this.

One dragon wants to mate, the other ignores said offer.

You are more focused on pleasing and flying with your rider than settling with another Stormcutter.

Imagine if wild dragons got mad at the riders of tamed dragons?

Just imagine this... you're affectionate with your rider because you love them as, well, your companion and rider.

The wild Stormcutter who is enamored by you sees this from the bushes and turns aggressive.

They don't get why you prefer to be with a human instead of them.

They can be your mate... they will be your mate...

If it takes removing said human then they will.

These dragons are violent towards those they consider threats.

So if a Stormcutter thinks a human will take their mate...

You can guess what happens.

One day/night while you're distracted you hear screaming along with a familiar scent.

The metallic scent of blood comes soon after.

Chasing the scent you stop in front of that same wild Stormcutter hunched over a body.

Their jaws are bloody... your rider dead on the ground...

You're stunned... right before rage kicks in.

These leads to you both fighting, two Stormcutters fighting for dominance.

Fire sears the area, blood pools on the ground.

Somehow, one of you will come out on top...

But you aren't getting rid of the Stormcutter too easily.

They'll keep courting you until you have nothing left and no choice... you two will be mates in a matter of time... they'll make sure of that.

[lakesbian]

i think the part where rachel's literal dogbrain is explained for the first time is honestly the weakest part of the book in terms of being able to interpret her as autistic. the idea that she would be upset "If she found out that the reason she’s so messed up is the very same thing that makes her so close to her dogs" (lisa, 5.10) is nonsensical in how it portrays her obviously autistic traits--which are frequently demonstrated to be what people mistreat her for--as the result of her trigger rather than what made her a heatsink for the abuse that caused it. all of the undersiders powers except for rachel are very hyper-literal and intense versions of dysfunctional coping mechanisms that traumatized people would, realistically, have, and that's what makes them so compelling. but rachel's power would imply that she picked up on being oblivious to human social interactions as a coping mechanism response to her trauma, or from a more generous perspective towards the writing's intended meaning, intentionally withdrew from people in a way that left her fundamentally unable to relate to others in a way externally indistinguishable from autism. neither of which make even half as much sense, nor are half as compelling, as interpreting rachel as someone who was always ostracized for being autistic + closer to dogs than people & simply had this literalized in a more visceral way thru her power. people don't just Magically Become Autistic in response to trauma, and it's a weakness on behalf of the book that it's never willing to go the extra mile and explicitly connect marginalized status to the trauma of a trigger event.

but, in a huge win for Rachel Lindt Autism Truthers, the rest of the book never pushes the same nonsensical ideas presented when the situation is first explained in 5.10. even the last paragraphs after lisa finishes talking feel very resonant with autism:

I was reminded of a non-fiction book I’d read where a kid got halfway through high school before his teachers realized he was illiterate.  He did it by being the class clown, by acting out.  Was Bitch the same?  The violence and hostility could be a cover to distract from her own inability to interact, at least partially.  I guessed a fair bit of it was genuine, though.  She had had a crappy childhood, she had lived on the streets and had fought tooth and nail to get by and avoid arrest. But at the end of the day?  As awkward as I felt in day to day interactions?  She was a hundred times worse off.

making it through life trying to hide that you don't know how to read the basic material that everyone else does naturally. being a hundred times worse off than taylor. Yeah. autistic girl 4 even more socially dysfunctional autistic girl. (also, it's cute how taylor relates things to books she's read.)