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ienjoywritingfilth · 2 months

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a sinner i am

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader summary: Your boyfriend Shawn Miller and his dad Joel bring you along to Hawaii for Christmas vacation. Things don't go as planned.

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, slowishh burn, kissing, grinding, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 6.8k

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part i :

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been, and all the memories we’ve made along the way. - author unknown

"Loving him is a sin; of that I'm fully aware. But a sinner I am." - Bella Jewel

Your boyfriend Shawn brings over two iced coffees as the two of you work on a crossword together at your local coffee shop. You have been filling in the squares quickly.

"Thanks babe," you say warmly as you take the coffee from him. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking a seat next to you.

"Damn, you're fast this mornin'," he says when he sees all you've filled in. It's a tradition for the two of you; weekend crosswords over coffee. It's nice. It's domestic.

It's a little boring.

You're college sweethearts who met your sophomore year and have been inseparable since. And while the love is still very much there the butterflies have unfortunately been hibernating for a while.

It's normal, you tell yourself when you sometimes zone out during sex. It's normal when you've been together with someone so long.

"It's so nice to be doing this instead of college essays," you say.

"Fuck yeah it is."

This is your first summer of freedom without the threat of schoolwork looming in the near distance. Shawn is starting his master's in the fall and you've just accepted a position at the local museum.

“Just think I’ll actually be able to enjoy Christmas this year,” you tease. “Unlike someone who’ll be working on essays.”

“Hey now,” Shawn says with mock offence. “I’ll be able to enjoy my Christmas just fine. Actually, my dad wants to celebrate Christmas somewhere warm this year. He's talkin' about some resort in Hawaii."

Shawn comes from money, the son of the infamous Joel Miller of The Miller Company, the premiere construction firm in Texas. This means expensive vacations, nice cars, all of that is normal for him. You meanwhile have had to work hard for everything you have.

Being left behind at Christmas seems strangely unkind for the normally thoughtful head of the Miller family. Shawn's dad has always treated you like one of the family so this news is unexpected.

"Have a great time," you say trying not to be jealous. "Bring me back some chocolate macadamia nuts."

You can admit that even though both Shawn and his father are humble, kind men, you're always a bit bitter that they live so nicely. Leaving you out of their holiday vacation seems especially unkind.

"He's taking both of us babe," Shawn says with a grin. "You think he's gonna leave you behind on Christmas? After you’ve spent the last six with us?"

Christmas in Hawaii? Is this a dream? Your pencil lays forgotten on the table as you gape open-jawed at your boyfriend.

"Are you serious?"

"Babe," Shawn says meaningfully. "My dad likes you better than he likes me. Of course you're invited."

You've always gotten along with Joel. It's impossible not to. He's friendly, funny and charming. There's a reason he's good at his job. And you're a good girl, a kind girlfriend to his son with clear career ambitions.

A smile breaks out over your features and you pull Shawn into a tight hug. He chuckles, embracing you back, kissing your cheek.

"Make sure you don’t overpack, okay?" He murmurs in your ear as you giggle. “I don’t feel like helping you haul six bags of shoes for a week-long trip.”

Thoughts of lounging by the pool with a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other while the Hawaiian sun beats down on you is all too enticing. You kiss him fiercely, imagining the time together.

"I can't wait."

The two of you finish the crossword puzzle all the while talking about the drinks and food and the excursions you'll both take.

"Maybe once I've got a handle on school we can think about findin' an apartment in the new year," Shawn broaches, his hand over yours.

Sex fades, but this? This domestic stuff you have with Shawn? That's special. That's love.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He gives you a smile, that dimple poking out of his cheek that makes you swoon.

"Ready to go?" Shawn asks, extending his hand to you when your coffees are drained.

"Yeah," you say with your hand taking his. "Let's go."

When December twentieth announces itself with a thunderstorm you couldn’t care less because you’re at the airport. Your large rolling bag bag is stuffed with cute outfits, swimsuits and even some snorkelling gear.

"Feels like you got a dead body in here," Shawn laughs as he struggles with the two bags, handing you yours before swinging an arm around your shoulders.

"I wanted to be prepared."

"Let's go my little Girl Scout," he laughs with a gentle kiss to your temple. You both check in and then find your boarding gate.

"I'm gonna grab breakfast, you want anything?" Shawn asks as he parks you and the suitcases by the gate full of noisy travellers.

"Nah, I'm good."

Shawn jogs off in the direction of a Starbucks you passed on your way in.

Out the larger windows you can see planes taking off. You've never flown before; you thought that you'd be excited. But at the first view of those planes out the window you feel your stomach drop.

They’re so big and bulky. How does it fly properly? It couldn’t. What if people shift around too much in their seats? Surely this can’t be a safe form of travel!

You pull out your phone, distracting yourself with a game. You try for several moments but your eyes keep being drawn to the huge planes outside. You grimace, wondering if you should have gotten your doctor to prescribe you something for anxiety.

"Cheer up," a voice says. "You look like you're goin' to prison, not a five star resort."

You glance over to see Shawn's dad, Joel, at the other side of you, an amused look on his handsome face. He's wearing jeans and a faded grey Longhorns t-shirt. You're momentarily thrown as normally you see him in dress pants and button downs for work.

"I'm excited for the resort, just not the giant metal death box hurling through the air that is my only means of getting there."

"Touche."

Shawn jokes about Joel liking you better then he likes him, but the truth is you and Joel are very similar. Your senses of humour, your ability to read people, your tendency to see the worst in people before they prove themselves worthy.

Shawn is more like his mom, sweet and naive at times, always seeing the good in people. It's ironic considering which parent stuck around to raise him and which one escaped the country six years after Shawn was born.

Joel takes the empty seat next to you, his kneecap kissing yours as he pulls out his phone.

"Never flown before," you explain.

"Ah, I see," Joel puts his phone in his pocket, his attention fully fixed on your face. "Well what if I told you it's actually the safest way to travel?"

"I'd call you a liar."

Joel chuckles richly, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing as he laughs.

"I promise you, I wouldn't take you on anything unsafe. And if all that's not good enough, you'll have Shawn beside you holding your hand the whole time."

You grin at that, nodding. The thought of Shawn being there does help your anxiety. Joel smiles back, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Thank you so much for inviting me along in this trip, Joel. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"S'a beautiful place," Joel nods. "And you don't need to thank me. You're practically family at this point."

Shawn returns with a muffin and two coffees in hand.

"Hey dad, got you a coffee," Shawn says handing it to his father.

"Thanks," Joel says gratefully. Just then the intercom alert sounds

"Good afternoon passengers.This is the announcement for flight 82B for Oahu, Hawaii. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

“That’s us.”

The lineup goes uncomfortably fast. You stand beside Sean who is talking to Joel behind you, the two of them deep in conversation about football, a subject you couldn't care less about. You are still too preoccupied with the flight, being surrounded by almost all strangers sailing through the sky.

You're not a fan of heights. So when you get to the door of the plane you hesitate, willing your foot to move. When it doesn't and the flight attendants shoot you a confused look, you feel yourself start to panic.

Shawn has gone on ahead to grab your seats and place your carry-on bag in the overhead bin, not noticing that you're not behind him. A large hand flies to the small of your back, a comforting gesture. Joel. He rubs there, soothing you.

"You'll be okay darlin'," he rumbles in your ear. "Remember, it’s safer than drivin' a car."

“Liar.”

Joel’s deep chuckle makes you grin and you allow Joel to gently prod you onto the plane, shooting the waiting attendants grateful looks for their patience. He takes his seat near the front, watching as you make your way to your seat next to Shawn. As you buckle in a thought occurs to you and you move your voice to a whisper.

"Isn't it gonna be kinda weird with us being there all week with just your dad? I mean, sharing the place and all?"

"Nah, he made sure the rooms were far apart. Plus, he invited his girlfriend to come along so I doubt we'll see much of him."

Joel is a chronic workaholic, often pulling late nights and working on his phone. You’ve seen him out and about with beautiful women at the events Shawn takes you to but never formally dating them. You always assumed to be a lifelong bachelor. You wouldn't blame him, especially after what he's been through with Shawn's mother.

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," you say honestly. "Good for him."

"A couple months now," your boyfriend tells you. "You know my dad, mister private. But he took me to dinner and told me about her so I think he's getting serious."

"That's really sweet," you say honestly. You want nothing but the best for him.

All of a sudden the plane starts to jiggle, sending people stumbling down the aisles and others gasping in surprise. You reach over and grab Shawn's hand, trying to regulate your breathing.

"Not so tight, babe," Shawn complains before gently sliding his hand from under yours. "You scratched me with your nails."

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes closed as the jostling of the plane continues.

You tighten your seat belt before gripping the seat arms so tightly that your knuckles are white. Sean squeezes your kneecap, murmuring that everything will be okay and that you’re safe. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of his words.

Eventually the plane enters smooth skies and the seat belt sign is turned off. Despite this you remain keyed up, sitting stiffly as Shawn fades into a nap.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You crack open an eye to see a beautiful redheaded flight attendant bending down towards you with a glass of what appears to be whisky in her hand. She extends it towards you and you take it confused.

"This is from the gentleman in A-1. He says to take this and you'll be relaxed for the rest of the flight."

You look up a few rows to see Joel giving you a brief wave. You thank the women before raising it towards Joel in a Cheers motion.

Drink it. Joel mouths.

Yes, sir. You mouth back complete with a stiff fake salute before tossing back the drink.

He grins at you before settling back in his seat.

The drink does the job.

"Here we are."

The cab drops the three of you in front of the beach resort. When you step out the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers. You wait while Joel checks you all in before he's back, motioning for you both to follow.

There's the main section of the resort with luxurious hotel rooms. The more secluded section contains a variety of self contained houses that dot the waterfront. Its reserved for people who have unlimited credit card limits and drive cars that cost more than your parents first home.

When you arrive to your unit, your eyes are ready to bug out of your head. It's massive, as far as vacation rentals go. When you all step into the air conditioned unit you have to take a moment to take it all in.

The beach house is beautiful with floor to ceiling windows, stunning tile floors and tasteful furniture. All of this is topped off with spectacular views of the beach outside your door.

A plate of sliced pineapple and chilled wine sits on the kitchen table, along with a note that Joel reads when he wanders over.

"Welcome note," he explains when he sees you looking at it. "I knew the owner back in trade school."

You and Shawn nod, your boyfriends hand trailing down your back gently. It's much the same as what Joel did back at the airplane, but it feels different. You trail your suitcase behind you hearing the clack of it against the stone floor as you move around the room.

"Wow."

It's all you can utter as the three of you tour the rest of the unit. There’s a simple kitchen with an expensive looking coffee machine and a brand new bag of kona coffee waiting to be used. The living room holds a table and four chairs, a few board games and a list of nearby places to visit along with the wifi code. The couch is simple, placed in front of a large television that you’re sure you won’t use.

"My bedrooms on the right," Joel tells you both. "Yours it's on the left. We're sharin’ a bathroom, sorry about that. Pretty common in these places."

Who cares about sharing a bathroom when you're in one of the most beautiful places you've ever been? Even the bathroom is beautiful with its high waterfall shower head and sleek marble. This place must have cost a fortune for the week.

Joel encourages you both to take a look at your room down the hall and you don't hesitate to take Shawn's hand, dragging him there. Shawn pushes open the door to the bedroom and you can't hold in your shriek.

"Holy shit! It's gorgeous!"

The big windows overlook the ocean, the late afternoon beach beckoning to you. The bed is large and plush with white sheets, and framed prints of Oahu sunsets. Its spacious, the bed so large it looks like two giant beds pushed together. The closet is spacious and boats dozens of wood coat hangers.

“Wood, because it’s classy,” you tell Shawn in amusement who is already unpacking his suitcase while you continue to stare in a daze.

"You like it?"

Joel is standing at the door frame, a shoulder balanced against it, watching you take it all in. He's smiling at you in that gentle, sweet way of his that makes you feel cared for.

You're suddenly overcome with gratitude and you streak over to him.

"Thank you, Joel!" You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

Joel laughs along with Shawn at your embrace and enthusiasm, holding you around the middle and hoisting you in his arms. Your face presses into his neck as he squeezes you, and the scent of leather and sandalwood envelops you.

You've never really hugged Joel before. Maybe a polite side hug during family events, a high-five during baseball games and even once a hard push to his shoulder when he made fun of you for being afraid of a spider that had gotten into the house.

But you've never had your front pressed to his, never really felt the muscles of his back and arms, seen the tendons in his neck or realized just how big his hands are when they squeeze your waist before lowering you.

"I guess that means you like it," he says, red-faced. You pull back, embarrassed at your overzealous response.

Shawn and his dad are very similar in their looks. Except Shawn is clean-shaven while Joel has a beard and Shawn's eyes are hazel like his mom's while Joel's are the darkest brown you've ever seen. You've never really noticed how dark until this very moment.

You shoot him a cheery thank you again before smiling and skipping over to Shawn announcing that you'll unpack as well.

"You two enjoy, I gotta make a few calls but then we can head out to dinner."

"Sounds great," Shawn says as he searches for his phone charger.

Joel closes the door behind him and you turn to your boyfriend. You can't explain it but you feel turned on. The Hawaiian air must be doing something to you because

You crawl towards where he kneels unpacking. You grin, feeling the pulse of desire hitting you below the navel. You kneel beside him, dropping your voice to a husky murmur.

"Should we break the bed in?"

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a local eatery. Joel and Shawn are talking with one another while you scan the busy restaurant.

Couples, families, all laughing and cheerful. And why wouldn't they? This is Paradise after all. But you don't feel anything like it, if anything, you feel like a little black rain cloud.

Shawn turned down your earlier advances, citing that he was too tired. The problem is for the past three months Shawn has been too tired most of the time. At first he blamed grad school but when you pointed out he still made lots of time for gaming with best friends Brian and Kevin he'd been quick to explain that gaming relaxed him.

That conversation had gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl. You remember being so hurt at what you felt was a slight against you. Weren't you relaxing? Weren't you something that made him happy?

So yeah, you had hoped that this little vacation might stir some of that old spark back. But maybe you were too eager. You had just arrived at the place after all. Maybe you were being unfair. Still, the rejection stung.

"Thought we could do all the tourist-y shit while we're here," Joel says after you've all placed your orders. "Luau, sunset cruise."

"Snorkelling?" Shawn offers.

"Hell yes," Joel nods grinning. "ATV tour too."

The Millers like to have fun. They also like to keep busy. It's like second nature to them to be off on adventures or activities. You meanwhile plan on spending lots of time by the pool or the beach, reading and drinking.

"What about you, darlin'?" Joel asks between sips of whisky. "What're you hopin' to do?"

You know exactly what. The thing you've been dying to do since you were a kid at the aquarium.

"I wanna swim with the turtles."

Shawn bursts into amused laughter beside you, and if you weren't already irritated with him before, you certainly are now. He grins at you not understanding that you're secretly furious with him.

"Turtles? Really?"

"What's wrong with turtles?"

"Seems kinda babyish doesn't it?"

"What's babyish about liking animals?" Joel cuts in. "You forgetting about the time we wouldn't let you in the petting zoo and you threw your shoe at me?"

"I was five, dad."

"Yeah well, some things don't change," Joel says with a smirk. "Still throwin' tantrums when you don't get your way."

"Fuck off old man," Shawn says through chuckles. “Don’t forget I’m your only child. I pick which retirement home I’m gonna stick you in when your mind goes.”

“Little bastard,” Joel mutters, trying to hold back a loud laugh.

He settles for tossing a drink umbrella in Shawn’s direction, chuckling when Shawn dodges it easily. You can't help but laugh along with him, your bad mood fading.

By the time dessert arrives you're all several glasses of wine in reminiscing about Shawn's last attempt at surfing.

"I've gotten better," he exclaims. “I swear.”

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Joel says paying the check. "Alright team, let's head back and get some shut eye. This old man needs it."

You roll your eyes at that. Joel isn't even fifty and even if he was he's about the best looking man his age bracket and younger. You've seen the way women stare at him, whispering, blushing when he looks their way. He is not what you’d qualify as old.

The three of you arrive back at the unit to the sound of nighttime creatures croaking and buzzing.

"Alright I'll meet you two out here tomorrow morning around nine. We can go to the excursion desk and plan the week. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, night Dad."

"Night Joel."

The three of you part ways into the opposite bedrooms. Shawn nuzzles your neck gently kissing there. He always does that when he's been drinking. You smile delightedly at this, eager to get into bed.

When the lights are off and the two of you have slipped off your clothes and under the covers you roll towards him, peppering his face with soft kisses.

"It's late, babe," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly but with finality.

"We're on vacation," you remind him, slipping your hand under his boxers.

You feel him slowly start to harden in your grip. You hear his breath hitch and you smile, knowing those sounds so intimately. You tug off your panties and slide onto his lap, preparing to ride him.

"Fuck me," you whisper, hips grinding against his. "Wanna feel your cock in me."

“Baby, no.”

Shawn pulls you off of him and you tumble into the bed next to him, feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation.

"My dad is right across the hall," Shawn hisses. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

Rejection never sits well with you and immediately you feel yourself growing defensive.

"You're dad is gonna be across the hall the whole week, Shawn,” you whisper angrily. “So what, we're not going to have fuck this entire trip?"

"We'll have sex," Shawn said rolling his eyes. "Just not when my dad is ten feet away sharing a fuckin' bathroom with us."

Bullshit. Another excuse to put off the intimacy that’s been dwindling for months. You push yourself from the bed, tugging on your dress from earlier. Shawn leans up on his elbows, giving you a look of concern.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk."

"I'll c---"

"No," you say sharp as a knife. "I want to go alone."

You stalk out of the house, eyes glossy with hurt and anger. That's the thing they don't tell you about relationships that have gone on so long -- both partners need to work to keep the fires going.

You make your way to the beach along the softly lit pathway. Its well after midnight and the resort is quiet; the lights dimmed or off entirely. You take a seat on a nearby rock, listening to the gentle sound of the evening waters lapping by the shore. You're very excited to go swimming tomorrow. To feel the warm sand underneath your feet.

You can hear noise coming from the far end of the resort. You remember over dinner Joel going through the resort map on his phone, letting you know what amenities they had. He had told you both about the dance club the resort had.

Shawn had immediately laughed, stating that he’d take a pass on it. Shawn hates dancing. You tried to get him to do dance lessons with you once but he wouldn't even give it a shot.

Right now it seems all you can do is focus on Sean's flaws. You know that he's a decent man, you know the treats you well, but there are these bugaboos these irritants that can't help frustrate you right now.

"Fuck it," you murmur to yourself, raising yourself from the sand and brushing it from your sundress. You follow the sound of the music, stopping in front of a door with blinking lights. A man in a blue Hawaiian shirt smiles at you when you approach.

"Aloha, may I ask your Unit number?"

"Number 4, under Miller."

The man types into his computer before nodding, opening the door for you. You step into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the blue lights and colourful dance floor. The speakers are playing typical vacation music with a heavy bass.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, half naked in revealing dresses or in the men's case, unbuttoned shirts. You order a drink at the bar, taking it with you as you scout the area for a free chair. A hand on your wrist surprises you.

"Joel?"

Joel is seated at one of the small circle tables nursing what appears to be a tumbler of Scotch. He motions for you to take the free chair next to him and you do gratefully falling into it, your arm bumping his.

"What are you doin' here? Since when does Shawn dance?" He asks over the bass, grinning. He looks a bit tipsy, his neck red.

"He doesn't, I'm here alone. I needed to blow off some steam," you tell him over the music.

"Me too," he says loudly back. "Couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess."

You nod, looking back at the dance floor wistfully. Everyone looks like they're having such a fun time, their worries and concerns far away from them as they undulate to the rhythm of the music. Joel takes another sip of his drink, watching you from the corner of his eyes.

You wish Shawn was here with you, you wish he was spinning you around on the dance floor. You wish it was like those early years where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

"You and Shawn doin' okay?"

Joel's voice cuts into your confusing thoughts. You glance his way.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I'm a dad," Joel. "And I've been married. And I know what tension between two people looks like."

You sigh heavily, your mind drifting to earlier. You don’t answer Joel because what would you tell him? You can’t tell your boyfriend’s dad that you’re worried his son is growing distant. You can’t tell him that your sex life has been disintegrating for the past several months. Instead you just shrug.

"You two talked about marriage?"

"What? No.”

You and Shawn have been together a long time, but you have no intention of settling down anytime soon. Sean is still doing his masters and you're loving your job at the museum.

"Good. No, not like that," Joel amends when he sees your stricken expression. "I just mean you're both so young."

"You were younger than us when you got married.”

"Yeah and look where that got me," he says with a scoff.

"Yeah, well, I think it's just been a long time and we're hitting a rough patch. Nothing we can't overcome," you add quickly. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "I know."

The two of you lapse into silence, watching the twirling, shouting, laughing people swan around you. You shouldn’t be glum, you should be experiencing life!

"You wanna dance?"

His voice is low and husky in your ear. You start, surprised to see Joel inches from your face. You know he's speaking so close to you because it's so loud in here, but it doesn't stop your pulse from ticking at the shock.

"Don't really know how.”

"Shit reason. C'mon."

Joel throws back the rest of his drink and drags you onto the dance floor. You laugh as he spins you, both of you almost knocking into an older couple who are taking the dance very seriously. They shoot you both a nasty look and you and Joel have to work hard to muffle your laughter.

"You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head, spinning you again but closer to him. "I'm too charmin’."

"You think pretty highly of yourself don't you?"

Joel shrugs, laughing as the song ends. Another quick one begins and Joel looks serious.

"I'm gonna teach you some moves Shawn's mom taught me."

"Okay."

You're surprised, he doesn't really mention Shawn's mother very often.

You watch as Joel attempts to teach you some simple dance moves. You don't know if it's the stuffy club, the drinks running through your veins or the fact that you're dancing with your boyfriend's dad, but you can't really focus on the steps.

"I give up," you moan after the fifth failed attempt at a two-step.

"You ain't a quitter," Joel assures you, trying to spin you slowly so you can get your footing.

You never realized that Joel was such a good dancer. Watching him move his tall body is strangely hypnotizing, mainly because you never expected a man that broad and muscular to move so fluidly.

"Atta girl," he says proudly when you get some of the footing correct.

You smirk when you see the women nearby watching him, shooting him smiles. But his focus is on you, teaching you the moves and assuring you: it's alright darlin', we'll get you there just take your time.

You're having so much fun with him you barely realize that an hour has gone by and you can only tell when you realize the back of your neck is damp with sweat.

You're about to announce your heading back to the unit when the beat slows and many trickle off the dance floor. It's a slow song, and only the couples remain in the glowing dance floor.

You go to step off when you feel Joel spin you again, back into his arms. You smile breathlessly up at him, the two of you shiny from perspiration from the dancing and the warm crowded space.

Joel is looking at you strangely, his eyes luminous in the reflection of the twinkling club lights. When he slides a hand at your lower back and urges your hands around his neck you don't hesitate. You lace your fingers there, shifting from foot to foot.

You feel strange to be dancing with Joel. And not because he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's the opposite, actually. You feel almost too comfortable. Joel’s eyes are trailing over your face, sometimes highlighted by the flash of the DJ’s lights.

“You talked to Shawn about all that’s botherin’ you and this rough patch?” Joel asks out of nowhere.

He looks vulnerable; unlike the Joel you know who is all smiles and jokes.

“Kinda,” you say shyly, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just hard. . . We can both get pretty defensive. Plus, I wonder if I’m maybe being unfair. He’s in school and everything.”

“Uh huh, and you started that museum job didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty demanding job, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel gives you a look as he rocks you both from side to side

“Can I say somethin’ you might not wanna hear?”

You nod.

“In my experience, it takes two people to make a relationship. Not one puttin’ in all the effort while the other one has his or her head in the sand.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The song ends and Joel releases his hands you’re your waist before he announces he has to hit the washroom. You head to the bar for a glass of water and to wait for him.

"Hi beautiful."

An Australian man around Joel's age with a moustache is leaning against the bar next to you. His eyes are bleary and red-rimmed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s obviously very drunk. You give a forced smile before going back to wait for your water.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks," you answer quickly. "Just getting water."

"How about a dance then?"

"I'm good," you say forcing a polite smile. You’re facing away from him, eyes on the bartender hoping he notices you.

"C'mon beautiful," the man insists, eyes sliding over your chest in a very obvious way. "I'm a good dancer too. Could give you lots of lessons."

"She said no."

Joel's voice is there, having clearly come back from the bathroom. You step backwards and before you know it Joel is sliding his arm protectively around you. You glance up to see Joel's face contorted into a mask of fury. His teeth are bared like some wild animal and he grips you tightly to him.

"Sorry man," The guy says holding his hands up in surrender towards Joel. "Didn't know she was taken."

Joel sneers before leading you out of the club. The cool air is a welcome reprieve when you step outside, breathing deeply.

"That place is nothin' but perverts," Joel growls as the two of you make your way back along the beach in the direction of your unit.

"Joel, you were there," you say giggling. "That make you a pervert?"

"Ha ha."

You walk quietly along the shoreline, confused as to how you can feel this good when just an hour ago it felt like everything was falling apart. Maybe it’s the drink in your veins, maybe its Hawaii, or maybe it’s just Joel.

"Watch it--"

Joel takes your hand when you stumble over a rock in the semi darkness. You let him, not dropping it even when your walking evens out. It feels nice to walk hand in hand with him, it feels safe. He doesn't let go of your hand either as you continue along, your shoes making dual footprints in the sand.

"Thanks for in there," you say. “I hate creepy guys like that.”

"Was nothin'," he says, then he drops your hand after a moment. "Shawn would have done the same."

"No, he wouldn't have."

It slips out before you can stop yourself. Joel stops in the sand, his concern there in his face. It’s clear that what you’ve said has upset him.

"What?"

"He doesn't like confrontation, you know that," you say with a shrug. "And I like that about him."

"You do?" Joel challenges. "Really?"

"Sometimes."

Honestly you’ve never enjoyed the men who start fights for no reason, who act like cavemen when someone looks at their girlfriend. Shawn is too smart for that, too above it to engage with assholes like that. But you have to admit that there was a part of you that found Joel’s actions inside the club to be a bit attractive. Is that the word? Would you really call your boyfriend’s father attractive?

You look at him standing there, his grey t-shirt clinging to his muscles and wide shoulders, the muscular thighs in denim and you think, fuck, yeah he is attractive. You knew he wasn’t ugly, you’d just never looked at him like that. Like he was a man outside of being Shawn’s dad.

"I come from a time when you take care of what's yours." Joel runs a hand through his messy curls. "If you were mine I wouldn't let anyone talk to you the way that man did, let alone touch you."

If you were mine.

You can't understand why but you're nipples tighten under your dress at those words. The possessiveness in Joel's voice is so dark and husky. He’s looking off into the dark like he’s really upset.

"If I was yours," you murmur.

His glazed eyes move from the beach over to your face. You’re standing so close to one another and you can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes. His scotch-coated breath huffs over your cheeks and you swear you’re getting drunker just inhaling it.

You must be, because why else would you be putting your hands on his shoulders. Why else would you be pressing your mouth to his? Why else would you be tracing his plush lips with your tongue and whimpering when he groans into your parted mouth?

And he must be drunk because he doesn’t pull away or hesitate. He dips his head and his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your body against him tightly. His palms slide over your skin, desperate to touch you everywhere as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You welcome it, going gooey in his arms, allowing him to take what he wants from you.

He’s so fucking broad, so strong, so masculine. You gasp into his mouth when he grips your ass with his big hands, pulling your hips against his, circling them as he kisses you. You feel his hardened cock through the layers of fabric, straining against the zipper of his jeans, desperate to bury itself in your slick heat.

To be desired like this feels powerful. It feels like years since Shawn wanted you like this much. It makes you lean more into Joel, desperate to keep the sensation going. His hands are sliding under your dress, up your silken thigh and you tremble.

A splash sounds nearby in the water, a fish or something startling you both and you simultaneously break apart. You both take a step back from one another in the sand, eyes wide. Joel looks completely crazed.

“The fuck—what are we doin’?” Joel whispers, the regret clear in both your faces.

You bring your trembling hands to your warm cheeks and tears immediately spring to your waterline.

What have you just done?

“Oh my fuck, no no, I don’t – I don’t know why-“

You bend at the waist, hands braced on your knees as you start to hyperventilate. Joel is pacing up and down the sand, his silhouette barely seen in the darkness of night. You can see his feet pacing back and forth. . . back and forth . . . He stops when you let out a hiccup, on the verge of throwing up.

“Honey stop,” Joel says, a hand on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “Calm down. Calm down, its okay.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” you say, tears streaming down your face and dropping into the sand below. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“S’not your fault,” Joel says, his voice even and calm. It makes you feel calm. And yet, guilt still bubbles up in your lungs, making a small sob escape.

“I have to—you need to—I need to tell Shawn. Right now.”

“Hold on,” Joel says roughly, gripping you by the shoulder and urging you to stand. He peers into your face with a grim expression.

“You cannot tell Shawn anythin’.”

“I have to,” you whine.

“It’ll just hurt him,” Joel insists, nodding and hoping you’ll do the same. “It was a mistake. It was nothing, it was just the booze. We just drank too much and we were all hopped up on that asshole inside the club and we weren’t thinkin’.”

“Right,” you agree, relief sliding through every vein you possess as he lays it out for you. “That’s totally what it was. The drinking. We’re drunk.”

“Completely.”

“Okay. Good.”

You’re still shaken up by what just happened, still tipsy from the drinks. Joel runs an anxious hand through his curls, looking utterly wrecked.

“Let’s go back.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way back in silence. You still cannot believe what you did. You kissed your boyfriend’s father. You kissed him and he kissed you back. Fuck, you both must be utterly wasted. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll both forget it even happened. You would welcome the hangover from hell if it could erase the last fifteen minutes from both your minds for good.

Joel tugs open the sliding glass door, not able to look at you as you both pad towards the opposing doors. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel staring at you as you enter the bedroom where his son sleeps. You give him a sorrowful smile before closing the door.

You crawl under the covers, thankful that Shawn is asleep. You slip off the dress, your hair wild from dancing, your skin sticky with sweat, and your mouth still tasting of scotch. Your cunt flutters at the memory of the noises he made.

You roll onto your side, trying to drift to sleep. Shawn, still half-slumbering snuggles up against your back. His arm slips over your waist and he holds you, as he often holds you back home, gentle and tender and full of love.

“I’m sorry about before, babe,” he murmurs into your hair.

You feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You blink rapidly, closing your eyes and trying to swallow the guilt.

You know that Joel is in his bed right now similarly afflicted, thinking about how he did something so unforgivable and to his own son. Joel is the kindest dad you know; he loves his son more than anything. You know that what you both just did was awful and disgusting.

You also know that there is something deeply wrong with you because as you lay there in Shawn’s arms your pussy floods with memories of his father’s mouth on yours still vivid in your mind.

do you guys want more of this? or should it be a one-shot? also trying a new aesthetic what do we tthink?

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x oc #joel the last of us #tlou joel #joel miller x original character #au joel miller #bdf!joel #but the dbf stands for boyfriend's dad #joel miller x you

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rhenuvee · 1 month

Text

Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with HSR Men

Warnings: ugly villager slander, established relationship (can be platonic or romantic)

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Argenti: Your fellow knight of beauty grows quite fond of the game, immediately finding the freedom of creativity in decoration endearing. He always gives you compliments on your OOTD, and takes screenshots whenever you design a new area on your island. Argenti gave himself the gardening job- spending his bells on red rose seeds. He gets proficient in following the flower guide, and is very proud of himself if he ever gets a golden rose on your island. He loves the villagers, finding them each very cute, and even beauty in the "ugly" villagers. "Did you see the villagers wearing the red rose on their head? I must say I am flattered they love it so much. Though, I am more happy that they appreciate the beauty of our island." He enjoys documenting the beautiful places in your island with photos <3

Aventurine: From the beginning he points out the fact that Tom Nook is a capitalist, which makes you roll your eyes thinking he thinks this game is silly. However, it is quite the opposite as it doesn't take him long to get out of his home loan debt and is somehow extremely lucky. It's unfair to you that he could just log in on any given day and have the best deal for turnips. However because you are his favourite he says he’s willing to buy you whatever you want, he guesses. He happens to be able to catch rare species like the Coelacanth, and it infuriates you but you really can't be if it's helping the museum. "445 bells per turnip, sounds like music to my ears~" "What's that? You want this violin? Well I guess I could spare you a few bells... is one million okay?"

Blade: Let's not kid ourselves here- it takes a lot of convincing and help from Silver Wolf to get him to even be in the presence of Animal Crossing. He says he would much rather stand and look at the wall (SW: "You already do that everyday"). Eventually he sits himself next to you, and listens to your giddy rambling about what to do in the game while he puts on a serious face not saying anything. After the preliminary tutorial/startup gameplay, he finally says, “…why is this rat harassing me for money.” However, the loans aren't the worst but the villagers chasing him down are. He purposely ignores them and grumbles when you tell him to answer ):/. He prefers to watch you play, but because he sees you smile and laugh at his sarcastic comments, he thinks it's not so bad.

Boothill: He's definitely down to try it out, but he ends up being a bit of a troll. He doesn't really mind cute/ugly villagers, until he judges them for what they say. “That’s right, (y/n) did catch all those fish.” “Did he just ask me if he could call me Muffin.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I GOTTA PAY ANOTHER LOAN?!!?” Yeah… he quickly feels the grindy-ness, complaining that Tom Nook was working him like a forkin’ dog. A little bit of comical rage, but he won’t lie he is enjoying it. He also asks if there are any guns and he is disappointed, so he opts for the net. He's a little rough and rowdy, but he does it in style. That being said, he 100% spends his extra bells on a cowboy outfit.

Dan Heng: He agrees instantly- aw :(. He knows you (and March) have been begging him to play. He’s is fairly good at it- gets out of the tent quickly, masters catching creatures, a nicely organized house… He’s quite resourceful too, chopping down trees and going to mystery islands to farm the heck out of it. The villagers love him, both of you often seeing them run to him with the little sparkly flowers. And even though he's normally serious, you can't help but fawn over how sweet he is with the villagers. "...She wants to call me Shmoopy, do I-" "YES." Villagers asking him to catch a fish? He's immediately on it. He remembers their names and treats them like real people :(

Dr. Ratio: "Is it educational?" Bro is such a nerd. You deadpan at him, and sass him for expecting this to be IXL or something. He is also one to get through the tutorial part easily. You expected him to be overly critical of the game, but he finds appreciation in the museum: both the creatures and the art. Is it a farfetched idea that I think he'd know how to tell the reals and fakes right off the bat? "Do you really think Da Vinci spilled coffee on his work?" At least it saves you the troubles of wasting your bells and getting a fake. I think your island would not be a mess, and would have at least a few statues (you know the ones) which add his touch to it.

Gallagher: Honestly he's happy as long as he gets a little area for himself. Kind of a wild card this one- somehow calm and chaotic at the same time, and it's puzzling because how is he doing such weird things with a straight face? Trolls the villagers quite a bit (he's lucky ACNH villagers are nice) by hitting them with a net (just once though) and giving them different catchphrases every time they ask. "Why is Bob saying 'spaghettini' at the end of his sentences?" "Um, because I thought it'd be funny? Also I'm kinda hungry so-" "Gallagher ):/" Despite the randomness, he is wholesome at times. He is also one to compliment your new outfit, and stargaze with you on the new area you decorated.

Gepard: He's busy so you weren't expecting too much from him, but he takes pride in having a well-rounded island. He gets so excited when he catches a new species that you don't have yet- what a cutie. Also goes full throttle when there's a bug-off or fishing tourney. Despite being a video game, I feel like there will be some way he messes up taking care of plants. The flowers overgrow, the turnips rot, and he doesn't understand why the trees aren't growing? But with some tips from you along with your island designing skills, your island rank moves up and he is BEAMING. "Zucker asked about you." "...he did?" "Mhm, he asked how you were doing, and said he saw you laying out pathways on the island."

Jing Yuan: He finds it so cute when you ask him to play. Lowkey like Blade where he likes watching your happy expressions when playing. He's happy that this game provides him a way to relax while not getting bored. Secretly an enjoyer of villager drama: "Wolfgang wants to apologize to Audie with this present. What happens if I don't deliver it?" "Again? Ah, just give it to her quickly." "...what if I don't." "...Jing Yuan." Oddly I feel like he'd enjoy the group stretching (what an old man), and encourages you to join. Like the "Dozing General" he is, there will be times when he's inactive and gets the bed head.

Luocha: You weren't expecting him to enjoy the game, but he's surprisingly willing to be resourceful. His storage is full of materials, which you scold him for because this is the reason for his empty undecorated house. But he always has things you need so you can't exactly complain. Also one to be pretty smart with managing bells and resources, able to maximize their worth. When the island gets visitors like Label or Flick, he has items ready. "Luocha... where did you get that coat?" "This? It's a designer piece, from Miss Label." I'd say he does have a sense of beauty in design, so thankfully your island is gorgeous.

Sampo: Sympathizes with Redd like a true scammer. "Aw look, he just needs a bit of money to get started... he even gave us a 'cousin's discount'." However, a rivalry starts with Redd when Sampo's first art piece turned out to be fake (scammer gets scammed moment). He asks if he can be the salesman that he's supposed to be. When villagers run up to him to offer bells for an item he has, he accepts thinking it'll get him a deal along the way. Unfortunately friendship gets you nowhere in terms of home loans. I'd say he's pretty good with the turnip stonks, so there's a balance. Also TRASH ISLAND. I'm sorry, but your man is a hoarder, "But what if I need this?" (Literally me.)

Welt: When you ask him to play he asks why the animals are crossing. He finds the style and characters are so cute, and he can see why you enjoy it. This is definitely a way he gets in touch with his "youthful" side. He loves the creative freedom in the game, even getting indecisive about how to design your island, and thinking of what outfit to wear. He once made a simple t-shirt for fun, but was surprised when he saw a villager wearing it. It'd be so cute and funny when he learns new emotes- and he just spams them with a straight face. Not gameplay related, but I feel like in his free time he'd draw you both in villager form <3.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail imagines #animal crossing #animal crosing new horizons #acnh #hsr imagines #argenti x reader #aventurine x reader #blade x reader #boothill x reader #dan heng x reader #dr ratio x reader #gallagher x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #luocha x reader #sampo x reader #welt x reader

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jjkamochoso · 4 months

Note

It's me again lol!! What about jjk men taking the reader on an aquarium date or like a museum date! ^_^

UR MIND >>>>>>> SO ADORABLE

Also I’m now including Ino because I can’t believe I’ve been forgetting to add my pookie in these

Enjoy and thanks for the request!!! <3

JJK Men Taking You on a Date to the Aquarium/Museum

Fluff

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Yuji:

“That fish looks like you.”

Your eyes fell to where Yuji’s finger was pointing. There was a huge fish with big, bulging eyes swimming in circles in the aquarium exhibit in front of you.

“Oh, really, does it?” You were thoroughly amused at your boyfriend’s antics, his grin widening as you played along. “This one is a spitting image of you.”

Yuji caught a glimpse of the fish you were pointing at and turned away from you, making you frown. Did you inadvertently hurt his feelings? The fish wasn’t *that* ugly. Besides, you both were joking around, but you never meant to go too far and make him sad. You tentatively put a hand on his back to get his attention.

“Yuji, I didn’t—”

He faced you again, this time sporting a quintessential fish face with his cheeks sucked in and lips protruding in a pout. You immediately started cracking up, and since laughter is contagious, especially among you two, so did he.

“There’s lots of cute fish here, but you were the cutest,” you finally said, making him blush. He grasped your hand tightly and you set off for another exhibit.

Megumi:

When Megumi asked you on a date to an art museum, you were elated. A quiet, calm activity like this was perfect for the both of you so you could enjoy each other’s company without many other people observing you. You walked side by side with the boy as you meandered through the exhibit that was showcasing artwork of animals in ancient civilizations. You stopped in front of a particularly cute sculpture of a dog, cooing softly.

“Megumi, look how adorable,” you said, and he nodded in agreement.

“Reminds me of my own,” he mused, referring to his divine dogs (you thought it was precious how close he was to his shikigami).

“Maybe we can bribe the curator with Gojo’s money to take it home with us.”

Megumi shot you a look. “Are you serious? I don’t think you can just take art like that.”

A few seconds passed.

“Can you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “I was joking.”

Megumi was quiet as usual but the air about him seemed almost contemplative. After a few more seconds, he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Gojo would probably break it anyway.”

“Wait, were you actually considering trying to buy it?” you questioned.

“Maybe.” The black haired boy shrugged, moving on to the next sculpture.

“Fushiguro the art collector, huh? Who would’ve thought you were so extravagant. Gojo’s spending habits must have rubbed off on you,” you teased, making him huff.

“Shut up,” he said, no bite to his tone whatsoever as you just giggled, cuddling up to his side as you continued on with your date.

Yuta:

“It’s like getting a million little kisses. I’m so in love with this creature.”

"Am I… jealous of a starfish?”

You were currently holding a starfish in your hands, its suction cups sticking to your skin, leaving behind a tickling sensation that you couldn’t get enough of. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of your kissing analogy and was doing his best not to pout over something so silly.

“Yuta, come closer! It’s too cute not to hold.”

He couldn’t deny he was curious to see what the hype was about. People had flocked over to this exhibit in droves and you guys had waited in line to hold a sea star for an ungodly amount of time—he wasn’t going to miss out now. The handler put one in his hands too and he immediately understood what you meant earlier.

“They are really cute. I see what you meant by the whole kissing thing, that’s amazing,” he said, his voice laced with wonder and amusement as he watched the sea creature grip onto his skin. He then looked up and locked eyes with you, both of your irises alight with love.

“But I still prefer yours.”

Inumaki:

There’s plenty of fish in the sea but you’re the only one for me.

You raised an eyebrow at the words on the phone screen shoved in front of your face while you were watching some fish swim by in the aquarium tank. Toge, meanwhile, was dying laughing at his lame pick up line written in his notes app. Seeing his reaction made your lips quirk up into a mischievous grin as something came to mind. You pulled out your own phone and hurriedly began typing, thrusting it toward him when you were done.

I cod-nt imagine my life without you, Toge. You’re a reel catch.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the grimace he wore.

“Fish flakes,” he said, putting his head in his hands and stifling giggles.

“My line was that bad, huh?” you asked, nudging him softly.

“Salmon,” he agreed, but the loving look he held in his eyes when they met yours again showed he was anything but bothered.

“You’re of-fish-ally the cutest boy I’ve ever seen,” you told him while ruffling his hair playfully, earning a loud groan from the blonde. He quickly typed out another sentence.

I’m so glad we go to the same school.

Noritoshi:

You were pleasantly surprised when Noritoshi asked you on a date to the aquarium. You figured he would’ve deemed it too childish or an experience not scholarly enough but you were wrong, now feeling the pull of his hand as he excitedly walked you around, pointing things out and chatting about things he had just learned.

“…and I just read that most fish don’t have eyelashes. Did you see that too?”

“Except for sharks,” you replied, a gentle smiling resting on your face.

“Exactly.”

Noritoshi took a deep breath as you led him to a bench to sit down and watch the jellyfish float around.

“I’m sorry for getting too passionate. I just feel like I can be myself here. There’s less… pressure, if that makes sense. Like I can learn things just to know them, not to impress anyone or get a good grade on something. It’s… nice.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know what you mean,” you said, laying a comforting hand on his leg. Noritoshi rested his hand on top of yours and gave it a light squeeze, observing the entrancing dance of the jellyfish.

“They look so free,” he muttered. “I wonder what that feels like.”

Your head was now lovingly balanced against his shoulder as you squeezed his hand back.

“I promise you that one day you’ll know.”

Todo:

“Y/n! You have to watch this!”

You were happy to accompany Aoi to the local science museum for a date. You two were having a fun time exploring and trying out all the different experiments the museum had to offer. You weren’t sure what to expect when Aoi called you over to the experiment he had just done since you were enthralled in a presentation about lightning. You were confused when Aoi put his hand on a big ball, but all of a sudden, the hair in his bun became even spikier than normal.

“Static electricity!” he exclaimed, sporting a huge grin. Seeing how happy all of this made your boyfriend had you smiling from ear to ear as well. When he eventually took his hand off the orb, his hair didn’t quite go back into place.

“C’mere,” you giggled, gesturing to his hair, “I’ll fix it for you.”

“Thank you, my love,” he said, leaning over to where you could reach him. You combed the strands back into place and gave him a kiss on the cheek when you were done.

“You’re having a fun time today, right?” Aoi asked you, a rare moment of vulnerability from the muscular man.

“Of course, Aoi. Thank you for inviting me here.”

“No problem,” he replied, his cocky demeanor back as he winked at you. “Now, if you’re interested, there’s a presentation on superconductors in a few minutes. Do you want to see it?”

It always surprised you when you remembered just how smart your sometimes air-headed boyfriend really was.

Gojo:

When you invited Satoru to the science museum, he was extremely excited. Not because of the science aspect, no, but because he loved to eat the packs of freeze dried ice cream you can buy from the gift shop. You were busy reading a giant wall panel about physics when you felt the thunk of a head resting on your back and heard a sigh of exasperation.

“Are you finished yet? This is boring,” Satoru said, mumbling into your shirt.

“I’m trying to learn, Satoru. It wouldn’t kill you to learn something either. You’re a teacher, aren’t you supposed to have a thirst for knowledge?”

“I have a thirst for soda,” came a muffled reply from behind you. You rolled your eyes, going back to reading. Satoru kept fidgeting and you found yourself getting frustrated at his lack of focus.

“Since you know so much, why don’t you tell me about relativity and quantum mechanics?”

“Quantum mechanics studies the world by looking at just a few small particles like photons and electrons. Relativity is the theory of gravitation that Einstein proposed around the same time as quantum mechanics. General relativity studies the construct of space-time and gravity, while special relativity studies special conditions and scenarios, such as length contraction, which is where an object is moving near the speed of light and its length actually shortens. See, I already know this stuff, so can we pleeeease go to the gift shop now?” Satoru whined, throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of boredom. Your mind was still reeling over the fact that your boyfriend was… ridiculously good at science and never bothered to tell you?!

“I… yeah,” you said, completely dumbfounded. Satoru ignored the confusion in your voice as he cheered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the gift shop.

Geto:

You and Suguru were taking your time walking through the museum he chose for your date. It was nice to walk with him, holding hands and enjoying deep conversations about the pieces that were showcased in each exhibit. You came up to a bench in front of a particularly large infographic and took a seat, your lover sitting next to you. After he knew you were finished reading, he asked you the few little words he assumed would set you off on a passionate tangent (he was right).

“So, y/n, what are your thoughts on this topic?”

As you began to analyze everything you just learned, Suguru watched you intently, but not in a negative manner; he was just so genuinely interested in what you had to say that it was like the whole world around him disappeared every time you opened your mouth. He nodded along, hearing you bring up things he hadn’t even considered yet.

“I’m lucky to have a partner who’s so intelligent,” Suguru cooed, his thumb ghosting over your jawline, initiating this romantic moment like you two were the only people in the building. To him, you were the only people that mattered anyway, so what was the point in hiding how he truly felt?

Nanami:

“C’mon Kento, it’s not as scary as you think it is. They’re completely harmless.”

You were currently trying to get your boyfriend to pet the stingrays but he was not having any part of it. The color had drained from Kento’s face when you submerged your hand in the clear water, feeling the smooth surface of the rays under your fingertips. The blonde man wasn’t afraid, per se, but he didn’t think it was the wisest decision to be touching such a dangerous animal.

“Y/n, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. What if you provoke them?”

You were about to laugh when you saw he was genuinely distressed. Frowning, you stood up and tried to dry your wet hand the best you could before reaching out to him.

“Kento, honey, it’s alright. They have to be really angry to sting people. I promise you’ll be alright if you try it.”

Kento relented and leaned over the touch tank, hesitantly placing his hand in the water next to yours. When a ray swam under him, the rubbery texture gracing his skin, he immediately tensed up. Your unoccupied hand landed on his arm as encouragement and it seemed to help him relax a bit. A few more stingrays came over to him and Kento finally calmed down, smiling as he greeted his new friends.

Ino:

“Babe, look, that’s literally us.”

Ino caught your attention away from a particularly interesting exhibit about seaweed as he pointed to a diagram that displayed two fish with their mouths on each other.

“Ino, that’s very sweet, but I think they’re fighting.”

Your boyfriend leaned closer to read the tiny print, his hands in his pockets in a display of nonchalance that you always found supremely attractive.

“Oh, you’re right! They try to flip each other over like that. It’s like the Spider-Man kiss but more badass.”

You shook your head, lightly chuckling as you linked your arm in his and continued walking through the aquarium. All of a sudden, you gasped and tapped Ino’s arm excitedly.

“Oh my god! This is literally us!”

Ino’s eyes went wide and his smile grew bigger. You were showing him to a video that displayed otters holding hands as they drifted in the water.

“Yeah,” he said dreamily, resting his chin on the top of your head as you watched the animals on the screen, “it is.”

Choso:

You were sitting in a dark room of the planetarium, looking up at a projected sky full of stars with your handsome boyfriend. Choso had his arm wrapped tightly around your body, hand resting on your waist as your head was nestled against his shoulder. You sat there quietly, enjoying the peacefulness of the exhibit. The sight of the stars above you changed into a slow spinning view of the earth and you gasped lightly.

“Woah, look at how beautiful our world is.” You didn’t hear him reply, which was unusual, so you lowered your eyes from the spectacular scene above to look at the man next to you.

“You’re my world,” he stated bluntly, unrelenting gaze boring into your own. “You’re the brightest star in the galaxy of my life.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you said, trying not to show how flustered you got over his beautiful words. He just drew you in closer, adamant to never let you go.

Toji:

“How does this piece make you feel?”

“Like I’ve been here for hours and I’m hungry.”

Toji wasn’t the biggest fan of the art museum you dragged him to but you were glad he allowed you to take him here in the first place. It meant a lot to you that he would willingly go somewhere like this that completely disinterested him, but he would go to the ends of the earth to please you.

“There’s a cafe around here if you wanna go eat,” you said, paying him no mind as you studied the painting that grabbed your attention.

Toji scoffed. “And leave you here by yourself? No way.”

Your focus was now broken, instead trying to stifle a laugh at his overprotective behavior. “The art isn’t going to kidnap me, you know.”

“I know,” he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, “but some dude might see a smart, attractive person like you by yourself and think he has a chance.”

“And I need my big, hot, uninterested-in-art boyfriend to keep an eye out for me?”

“Exactly.” Toji smirked at you while you rolled your eyes playfully.

“I appreciate that. I’ll finish up here and we’ll head to the cafe together then?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You went back to your contemplative state while Toji’s eyes wandered the room. He would never tell you this, but he found many of the pieces actually interesting and hoped you would take him along to more places like this in the future.

#yuji itadori x reader #megumi x reader #yuta x reader #inumaki x reader #noritoshi x reader #aoi todo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #ino takuma x reader

461 notes · View notes

star-stilinski · 15 days

Note

What about Stiles fic where their class is going on a school trip and Stiles has a massive crush on a reader and he's been trying to show it/make a move for a long time but he couldn't because they're friends and because in his eyes reader is perfect so he thinks they're too good for him and sth happens on a trip (maybe there's a party or the pack decides to play a game) and he somehow confesses or kisses the reader

Sorry if it's confusing 🙈😅

THIS WAS REQUESTED ON AUGUST 28TH. I AM SO SO SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. also: 'tis once again unedited. beware.

(i'm gonna clarify now: this is NOT the school trip they take in season 3A. that was too dark and serious and important for me to try and weave a cute storyline in!)

☆

six months ago, stiles had tried to give you flowers. they got crushed in his bag and then fell in a brown puddle when he tried to take them out and give them to you.

three months ago, he tried to have a study date with you where he planned on cooking food and confessing over dinner on the floor of his bedroom. not the most romantic, but he had candles! .....until his dad dropped one and broke it, stiles lost another, and the rest became futile when he burnt dinner and scott called him all panicked, realizing it was a full moon and he didn't have a plan.

and then there was the lacrosse game last week. they won, no thanks to stiles the benchwarmer, but he got you a necklace. your favorite metal with a small pendant of your favorite flower. and he told himself, if they won -no, when they won- he would find you in the bleachers immediately and bear hug you the way you liked. then, he would present the necklace and ask to be your boyfriend.

and that one, unfortunately, had no excuse other than stiles was a big fat chicken. he found you, you bear hugged, and when he pulled back and looked you in your deep, excited eyes...

he chickened out.

it was nothing against you. oh no. no, no, no way. even the suggestion was ridiculous to stiles. the only reason he couldn't confess was the same reason everything conveniently went wrong every other time he tried to confess. the same reason he bit back every compliment, the same reason he held himself back when he went to touch you, for any reason. and god, stiles hated himself for that stupid string tugging him back to home base every time he went running out to first.

stiles, being bluntly honest with himself, was half convinced you were too good to even be his friend. don't get him wrong, he wouldn't lose your friendship for the world. which is part of his problem. he looked at you and saw a clever, funny, adaptable idiot with the looks of a goddess. he could pick your eye color out of a deck of those swabs you'd find at home depot and get the shade exactly right. he had your moles and freckles memorized, the scars on your knees mapped, he knew the way your lips curved up when you had a bad idea like he knew the back of his hand.

so when he looked in the mirror and saw stiles; skinny, rude, distrusting, not nearly as muscular as your type. not nearly as handsome, or kind, or gentlemanly. not nearly enough. he could tell you exactly why he had yet to confess.

you were too good for him, plain and simple.

so when he got up for your guys' class trip to some big museum, he wasn't feeling too fantastic. sure, you had texted him last night asking to sit with him on the bus ride there (lydia and allison were predictably going to sit together), and that had led to the two of you going from texting to calling until two in the morning. and you had said "i need to go to bed but i don't wanna hang up" and his heart had practically fell out of his mouth with how fast it beat when he heard your timid sleepy voice.

but then he woke up the next morning and remembered that you did not like him. he always forgot that when you were alone, talking for hours and never getting bored. or, alternatively, when you two could just be quiet together and never get uncomfortable. it just felt so natural with you. you were just so perfect.

and stiles was not. it sucked, and it hurt like hell, but he would live with it like he always did. even if it felt like it was getting worse every day. the highs and lows, that is; going from the 'oh my god she does like me!' to the soul-crushing 'oh. that's right. friends.'

he was currently at the low point, brushing his teeth and pulling out his clothes for the day. his jeep already had his bag in it, packed for the three day trip to a huge, fancy museum a little ways into a bigger town near beacon hills. he had done some research on the exhibits to see if there was anything he'd want to sneak off and see, and he found something you'd be fascinated by. part of him wanted to surprise you, and part of him knew you'd get antsy not knowing.

he realized he was smiling thinking about your antsy face and had to shake his head a bit, spitting out his toothpaste in the sink and splashing his face with water. get it together, stilinski.

☆

later, he's got his duffel bag slung over one shoulder and your backpack on the other, watching you from afar while you chat animatedly with allison and lydia.

all the students attending the trip were meeting outside next to the parked busses at an ungodly hour of the morning. you had said a tired "g'morning" to him and he had offered to hold your things, before the girls had dragged you away. and now, he stood like a sap watching you slowly wake up in the company of your friends.

"dude," he hears scott approach beside him, and he has to force himself to turn away from you to acknowledge him. "you've got it so bad."

stiles scoffs at his best friend, giving him a knowing look. it's the same as it's always been since you came in the picture. "yeah, okay, and you're so much better? don't think i didn't notice you looked for allison before you found me. you know, a 'good morning, stiles' would have done just fine."

scott shakes his head, and stiles clocks his 'you're so done for' look in a second. before he can remark on it, scott hums "good morning, stiles."

"good morning. do you have any idea when we're supposed to get going?" stiles resumes his admiring just in time to see you giggle behind your hand. he can see scott adjust his bag on his shoulder and join in the simp stare-off. his subject being allison, of course.

"i dunno, probably within the hour. you know coach never gets us anywhere on time. that's why i slept in."

stiles side-eyes scott. "stop acting like it was a strategic move and not you forgetting to set your alarm."

scott frowns, and opens his mouth to retaliate when coach's grating voice sounds from the front of the gaggle of sleepy teens.

"alright, the buses are gonna start loading and we got the nice ones, so put your bags in the bottom storage spaces. make sure you know who you want to sit with. we don't need a repeat of last year's incident, greenburg. okay, get your scrawny asses moving. lets go!"

he claps his hands hastily and the buses open their storage compartments. stiles haphazardly tosses his duffel bag in, annoying some kid trying to do things in an orderly fashion. he's not sure what to do with your backpack, since he remembered you having a suitcase too. just as stiles goes looking for you, he feels himself being turned around by the shoulder.

"hey, don't store that." you hum, holding his non-backpack shoulder with one hand and reaching for your backpack with the other. "it's got my book, i might wanna read on the way if i can't sleep."

"it's okay, i can hold it until we get on." stiles nods and blinks rapidly to try and shake the warmth he feels where your hand holds his shoulder. when you smile groggily up at him, he just about falls over. "you look tired, anyway."

you nod, and to his disappointment your hand leaves his shoulder to rub at your eye. he smiles a little at how cute it is, compared to your usual too-pretty-and-argumentative-to-be-cute look. "yeah, i couldn't sleep. i swear, if i don't pass out on this bus, hit my head against the window until i lose consciousness."

"aw, so you get to sleep and get window seat? this feels unfair."

"you're lucky i'm not making you sit with greenburg. remember the incident?" you both make your way to the line of kids boarding the buses, right behind scott (who is surprisingly convincing allison to sit with him).

"oh, i remember. coach said if we bring it up on this trip it'll curse us. sort of a 'theater kid hamlet' situation."

"do you think if we tell the story three times it'll reoccur?"

"that's beeltejuice."

you roll your eyes, just as stiles continues with a smirk. "beetlejuice, bee-"

"what are you two even talking about?" pipes in a tired danny from behind you. you both whip your heads around and find him giving the two of you an incredulous look. "it's eight in the morning, how are you this awake?"

"my company is just lively and fun, danny." you joke, turning up your nose. stiles knows you're playing, trying to be enjoyable before you crash and get cranky. he doesn't realize he has that idiotic sappy smile as you keep talking. "i don't hang around closet cases and wannabes. me and stiles like to summon demons in our free time."

"you sure you're not hanging out with a closet cased wannabe?" danny drawls as the three of you shuffle forward in line.

stiles scoffs. "i am not a wannabe."

danny slowly raises an eyebrow.

"..... or a closet case-look, we were perfectly content with our conversation before you rudely interrupted. so if you'll excuse us."

you laugh quietly but it turns to a yawn, and you use a sweater-pawed hand to cover it. stiles mentally picks out his coffin. yeah, he's planning on killing himself if you keep looking so holdable. no biggie.

"yeah, you look so content, stiles." danny mumbles through his sleep deprivation. stiles blushes pink and glares at him. fucking danny. shut up.

"god, i probably look horrible right now. i didn't feel like putting makeup on at seven AM, and of course my two hot best friends show up with swipes of mascara and blush and look like runway models." you're talking to yourself, stiles can hear the familiar tone. he adjusts your backpack on his shoulder and squeezes the strap tight, imagines holding you around the waist and pressing his face into your neck. telling you how wrong you are, telling you,

"shut up, you look cute."

oh fuckity shit! great job, stiles. wanna go ahead and relay every fantasy you've had of her while you're at it? what about you favorite one in freshman year, when you were first getting the hang of your hormonal wants and needs? fucking idiot said it out loud.

"liars go to hell, stiles." you hum, only half-joking. he clears his throat, blushing. you dug this grave, stiles. now lie in it.

"i'm not lying." it's simple, he can hear danny huff out an unsatisfied breath in the back, and he can feel you shift next to him. your shoulder brushes his arm.

"alright. thank you."

he has never heard you speak to him like that before. it's... sure, full of your usual "i don't believe you" insecurity, but something else catches in your tone. it's quieter. softer. he scoots forward in line.

when you're both on the bus (you at the window, stiles at the isle), you fall asleep on his shoulder in seconds. your arms wrap around his bicep like a teddy bear, and he falls asleep quickly after, head lolled back on the top of the seat.

scott, now successfully sitting with allison, takes a few photos and sends them to stiles. allison peers over scott at you two, 'aww'ing quietly.

"i knew he liked her back." allison whispers to scott, sliding her palm down his arm to squeeze his hand. she's grinning, and scott admires her dimples silently. "she's so convinced otherwise, like he's 'too good' for her or something."

"wait-" scott blinks away the lovesick fog in his head and registers allison's words. "wait."

"what? what is it?" allison tugs on his hand, trying to catch his eyes as he sees the next three days unfold before him, as well as things clicking into place from years prior. allison grows more impatient. "scott?"

"she likes him? for sure?"

allison's eyes widen as she nods. "crazy for him."

scott turns back to watch as you nuzzle against stiles and huff out a breath in your sleep, causing stiles to make a 'auh' noise as he snores. allison joins him, and seems to see the next three days, this trip they're on their way to, play out before her as well. a smirk grows on both of their faces, and scott's voice is full of mischief when he speaks.

"then let's help them out."

☆

stiles can feel the ghost of your body pressed against his even once you've been separated into your hotel rooms. you're with allison, lydia, and some girl named claire that's friends with lydia.

stiles and scott are alone, after all the guys picked their roomies and the dust settled. stiles was grateful, for once, that they still didn't quite reach that popularity status. having his own bed to curl up and die in after spending a whole day looking at exhibits with you was a blessing.

"so..." scott hums after they set their bags down (which looked more like throwing them on the nearest bed or couch). "big day."

"it is?" stiles is rifling through his bag, searching for his phone charger.

"well, y'know, lots of opportunity..." stiles can hear scott smirking. oh no. "lots of ideas..."

stiles rubs a frustrated hand down his face when he can't find his charger, only half listening to his best friend. "ideas? scott, what the hell are you talking about?"

"ideas like maybe you should see if a certain someone needs a room to stay in for the night." scott leans against the wall, watching stiles with a knowing smirk and crossed arms. stiles straightens and sets his attention on scott.

"are you asking me to invite a girl over? with you in the room? and coach breathing down our backs? and dead cockroaches in the corners? how romantic, wow."

"obviously i'd find somewhere else to go!" scott defends, feeling his feeble attempt slipping away from him. stiles can see it in his eyes. he's so bad at scheming. "and coach will knock out at ten. you know he's a heavy sleeper with a tight schedule. and... well, the cockroach thing is out of my hands. you can clean up?"

stiles raises an eyebrow at scott. "if you wanna have sex with allison, i'd be more than happy to sleep in danny's room, scott. i hear he's a cuddler."

scott blushes and groans, picking up his phone and texting in an annoyed attitude. "that's not..."

scott leaves the sentence unfinished and stiles doesn't ask him to change that, opting instead to checking the front pocket for his charger. he could've sworn he grabbed it.

instead of the sweet victory of a chord, stiles' fingers brush a hard box. he frowns and pulls the small, dark object out and turns his back to scott, who's too busy texting god knows who to notice anyway.

"what the..." stiles turns the small box over in his hands before he feels his whole body go cold with shame. the loopy, gold lettering of the jeweler he bought your necklace from. the necklace that he failed to give you just over a week ago. the necklace that he shoved back in his duffel bag after the game, hauled home and promptly buried in the back of his mind.

and now, it had travelled hours with him and appeared right when he was on a 'oh my god she does like me' high from the bus. like a physical embodiment of his inadequacy, it dumps a bucket of ice-cold water on his heart and leaves him dripping wet and filled with shame.

he sets the box down on his bedside table and makes for the door. yep, he's totally storming out like a baby. whatever.

"where are you going?" scott calls as he swings the door open.

"i'll be right back." stiles hisses over his shoulder, skittering out of the room as quickly as he can.

stiles rubs a hand over his mouth as he goes for the stairs. all he needs is five seconds alone to wallow, and he'll be fine.

instead, when he swings open the door to the staircase, he finds you in the corner, sitting on the platform with your phone in front of you. your head whips up and you blink up at him. "oh, hey."

"hey." he nods, tilting his head a bit. "what... what are you doing?"

you wave your phone, shrugging. "just taking a second. the girls were talking about tonight. after the museum, what they wanna do."

you pause, looking away from stiles.

"who they wanna do."

stiles shuffles, clears his throat, rubs his neck, does anything to fill the space. "ah, yeah, scott seemed to be getting at that too. i wonder if the wet towel stench of this place is an aphrodisiac."

you laugh, pressing your phone in between your thighs as you draw your knees closer to your chest. he analyzes you, before smiling softly.

you look up at where he stands, and when your eyes lock, it's like everything else gets blurry. all stiles can see is you; hair all messy from the bus ride, bags under your eyes, picking at your nails. he wants to kiss you. so bad.

you suck in a breath and both of you snap out of it, you going for your phone and stiles speaking to cover his tracks.

"it's probably almost time for us to be heading back to the buses." he offers you his hand. "you should bring a jacket, just in case."

"i'll be fine." you grab his hand and he pulls you up. "i didn't bring any comfortable ones, anyway."

he holds open the door for you and you both part ways for your respective rooms, trying to ignore the electric feeling where your hands touched.

☆

"alright, now i know you horndogs can't be trusted," coach stands in front of the bus with the light of the hotel parking lot and the moon casting odd shadows on his face. "so i expect lights out at eleven. ya hear me? eeee-leee-veeen. and remember to take some notes for the essay you'll be writing about this trip. alright, get out of here."

the museum had been interesting enough, but nothing to write home about. you and stiles had been separated into different groups, so the closest he got to seeing you all day was that morning and the things your and your friends posted on your private stories throughout the tour.

and then there was the bus ride home, but you sat with lydia in the back, and stiles was stuck next to coach himself near the front, since his best friend took it upon himself to remind stiles of his singleness and sit with allison. which was fine, until every other spot was taken except for the one right next to the bane of stiles' existence. whatever.

so stiles got to his hotel room in a bit of a sour mood, needing to numb his brain on his phone or the tv and knock out asap.

just as he had gotten on his pj pants and flopped (shirtless) into his hotel bed, there was a knock at the door. expecting one of the guys to be asking to borrow a pillow or something, stiles continued to lay on the bed as scott swung open the door. but instead of one of the guys, stiles hears the voice of an angel ring through the hall.

"hey, sorry, do you guys mind if i use your shower? all the girls in my room need to and i'll be up until ungodly hours waiting my turn. just wanted to get it over with and go to bed." you ask scott, whose eyes widen slightly. he nods vehemently and lets you in, giving stiles no warning to throw on a shirt or get under the covers or hide or something.

you thank scott and smile at stiles as you pass through to their bathroom, setting your stuff down on the sink counter on the way so you could get organized.

"hey stiles, you forget something?" you joke, not even sparing him a glance as he grabs a t-shirt and hastily shoves it on. he can feel his cheeks burn red and grumbles.

"you barged into my room, what were you expecting?" he fusses with his hair. scott stifles a laugh poorly.

"decency." you hum, winking prettily at the poor blushing boy before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. the boys are frozen a moment as the water starts running, and then stiles falls back against the pillows, groaning.

scott rubs the back of his neck, smiling. "maybe she thinks the grumpy attitude is cute?"

"get out."

scott's smirk grows, and he steps towards stiles' bed. "why? wanna have the room to yourself?"

"no, so i don't slowly suffocate the life out of you with one of these pillows. you know, real friends try to encourage and cheer on their friend's romantic escapades."

"i am encouraging!"

"not well!"

"okay, well, i was leaving anyway." scott turns towards the door and stiles shoots up, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

"what? why?"

scott turns slowly, jaw ticking like he's hiding something. stiles knows the tell.

"...allison... needs.... to borrow my..... shoes......"

stiles watches the cringe slowly crawl up scott's face. he shakes his head, waving his best friend out. "you know, that is much better than half the lies i've heard you tell to go see her. wrap it first, dude."

"i'm not...! ugh, okay, bye." scott leaves in a hurry and stiles shakes his head, used to scott's antics. at least someone's getting some.

that leaves stiles to listen as the water patters down in the shower. he has to turn the tv on and scroll on his phone so that his mind doesn't conjure up images of you in the shower.

images of your wet hair shining softly in the light. your skin, slick and plush, covered in scented suds. stiles clenches his jaw as he imagines the rest of you. as he imagines things he totally should not, having to turn the volume up on his phone and will the blood in his body to stop concentrating to the wrong places. he sighs.

"i'm so screwed." he mumbles, letting his phone fall to his chest.

not even minutes later, the water shuts off and you come out, hair up in the towel like a turbie-twist, smelling like hotel body wash and your shampoo. he watches you moisturize your face in the mirror, then take your hair out of the towel and hang it up, brushing your hair quietly in the meantime.

there's something intimate about laying in bed and watching you pamper yourself. stiles admires your legs and your concentrated face, feeling a bit like a husband watching his wife. god he fucking wishes.

"find something interesting?" you break the silence as you put product in your hair, making the room smell even nicer. it's like a bath & body works ran through the room, covering the boyish musk.

stiles blinks, registering the fact that your question wasn't rhetorical. "...huh?"

"on tv," you giggle and meet his lovesick eyes through the reflection. "did you find anything interesting to watch?"

"oh, um." he shifts up, glancing at the tv where a bland action movie plays. "not really. why?"

you finish your nightly routine and turn to face him. you look like a clean, fresh dream. dewy from the shower, damp hair and healthy skin. you look happier, too, like getting clean helped with your tired funk. as you get closer to the bed, stiles feels the temptation to touch you- to feel how soft your skin is after a shower. but he's not a perv, and you wouldn't want it.

would you?

"where's scott?" you ignore his previous question and crawl onto stiles' bed, sitting next to him and practically knocking him over with how good you smell and how pretty you look. he wants to pull you into his chest and die in this dingy old room.

"scott? oh. i..." stiles ponders saving a lie for his friend, but he knows allison probably had a similarly see-through excuse and opts for the truth. "i think he went to have sex with allison. not sure where."

you roll your eyes, getting comfortable against the pillows-and stiles' side. he blushes all the way down to his neck.

"all the girls are room shuffling to hook up. coach is an idiot if he thinks telling teens lights out will stop them from getting some on a school trip." you move stiles' arm to press yourself into his side more comfortably. "that's like, the whole point of a school trip."

stiles feels a sudden bout of jealously coarse through him. "is that the point of this trip for you?"

you sigh, pressing your head against his side and dampening his shirt. stiles, feeling bold from your cuddling, wraps his arm around you. his heart hammers as you draw out the silence, taking too long to answer for his liking.

“no, it’s not.”

he breathes out a sigh of relief.

“is… is that the point for you?”

stiles sometimes forgets that you don’t know. he’s surprised for that very reason by your timid question, like you’re scared of his answer too. it’s almost laughable to him, since it must be obvious. the way he stares, the way he touches you like you’re a gift from the gods, how he constantly calls you and keeps track of your location on pack missions, your study dates he spends making you laugh and letting you control the music. the inside jokes, the good morning texts, the good night phone calls. he knows when you’re going to cry, when you’re going to smile. isn’t it obvious? isn’t it?

and yet you’re curled up against his side, making his arm fall asleep and getting his pjs wet, completely unaware that he wouldn’t let this slide with anyone else. he turns to face the tv, swallowing.

“no. it’s not.”

the two of you fall silent, watching the tail end of a crappy spy movie. the volume is low enough not to be bothersome but high enough that you can hear. stiles can feel your body slowly relaxing completely under his arm, head resting against his chest like a pillow. the dim lighting of the bedside lamp illuminates your features like an oil painting, and stiles can’t look away.

your lashes flutter closed and your lips part, huffing small breaths out and giving him goosebumps. your brow pinches slightly and you shift, curling one leg over his. he shuffles lower onto the pillows and now you’re both laying, eyes closed, falling asleep to the sound of an infomercial.

☆

stiles wakes up to an empty bed, feeling cold where you were laying. it’s late-or early. stiles can’t tell and the clock in his room is off. he sits up and looks for you, hearing the bathroom door click open.

“oh, sorry. had to pee.” you mumble tiredly, washing your hands, giving stiles a moment to blink away the sleep and admire your short shorts. he scratches his bed head and shrugs.

“‘s okay. were you, uh.. comfortable?”

you nod as you walk back to the bed and crawl back over to him. he adjusts to accommodate you again, but you pull at the covers. “let’s get under these. I was freezing.”

he obeys, but just as you go to resume your previous position, your eyes catch on the bedside table. “what’s that?”

“huh?” he raises his head off the pillow and follows your gaze. “what’s what?”

you reach across him and pluck the small jewelry box off the table. “this. woah, looks fancy. is it a hospitality gift or something?”

you start to open the box, and stiles snatches it out of your hands roughly, making you jump. if you see the pendant, your favorite flower and your favorite metal, you’ll know. you’ll know and you’ll call him a creep and slap him, get out of the bed like it’s on fire, and he’ll lose you. that’s the last thing he can lose.

so stiles tosses the box away, onto scott’s bed, urging you to lay back down.

“it’s nothing. just some gift scott’s planning on giving to allison, i think.” his tone has an edge that makes you curl away from him.

“oh, okay. um. but it had your name, on the bottom.”

“what?”

“the order sticker, it had your name. did… are you lying to me?” you sit up, over him now. he swallows back the surge of longing he’s hit with, when he sees your hair a bit messy and your shirt hanging off one gorgeous shoulder, giving him a glimpse of your skin.

“lying? no, scott just needed me to order it so it could be a surprise.” he’s fumbling the fib now, and he can see you doubt him in your deep, pretty eyes. he feels a lump of panic in his throat. “lay down, I’m tired and coach’ll have us up early.”

your eyes narrow and you shift away from his hands. fuck. “that doesn’t make sense. scott could just take the sticker off.”

“yeah,” stiles tries to look casual, rubbing his eye. “I don’t get it either. scott just wanted to be really cautious.”

“scott’s never cautious.” you’re glaring at him now, and stiles wants to melt into the pillows. “you’re lying.”

“jesus, why are you so suspicious of me? it’s just some stupid jewelry scott got for his girlfriend, alright?”

“don’t talk to me that way.” you hiss, getting off the bed. stiles shoots up like a rocket and goes after you as you gather your things in the shower.

“no, I didn’t mean… fuck, okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked to you like that, i just got defensive.” he paces and scrubs the back of his neck anxiously. “I’m sorry, okay? I am.”

you turn to face him, sizing him up. stiles watches you with a mouth open, ready to plead. “why did you get defensive? because you’re lying? did you get jewelry for a girl?”

stiles steps back, slapped in the face by the ice in your tone. something sharp lingers, like…

like jealousy.

he scrambles to stop you as you make for the door, grabbing your shoulders.

“please, cmon, seriously? you’re gonna leave over this? I…”

you shrug off his grip roughly and he lets you pass. “you let me sleep in your bed when you planned on giving jewelry to another girl, stiles. now I’m stuck looking like some… homewrecker, and this poor girl won’t know a thing. you know how bad this looks? on top of the lying? just… goodnight.”

he gapes at you as you leave, the door shutting loudly behind you. stiles can’t even move for a second.

what the fuck just happened?!

it was paradise, sleeping next to you.

and here he is, back in hell. because of his own cowardice.

he tugs at his hair and squeezes his eyes shut. “fucking dammit!”

he has a hard time sleeping after that.

☆

the next day, stiles wakes up late and has to rush getting ready. the necklace box has disappeared and he’s honestly grateful; his eyes sting a bit, from being up late and all the crying he got up to once you left. scott barely got a word out of him all morning, and the bus ride to the museum was torture, listening to you chat and laugh just two rows behind him as if last night was some hazy dream-turned-nightmare.

it only got worse, too, when allison approached stiles as coach was breaking everyone into groups.

“so,” she hums, mischief painting her tone all singsonged. “how was your night?”

“I think you’re in group c.” stiles responds blandly, hands shoved in his pockets. you haven’t even looked at him all morning.

“no, no, some stuff got switched up. we’re with you now!” she grins, tilting her head to where scott is chatting you up kindly. you seem almost as tired as stiles. he cringes, knowing it's his fault.

allison blinks up at him, smiling all excitedly like that's good news to stiles. he shifts his weight, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. "are you sure that's... when did that happen? there's no changing back or anything?"

her smile falls, and she tilts her head a bit. "no... is everything all right? you seem-"

"i'm fine." stiles lets his tone get snippy, and allison narrows her eyes, visibly recoiling.

"that's odd. i got the same response from her this morning." she nods her head towards you again. stiles doesn't even glance your way, afraid he'll see you and want to fall to his knees. allison purses her lips, before seeming to clock the situation. "did something happen?"

"no, no. nothing did. jesus, what's taking coach so long to get us going?"

"stiles, what happened between you and my best friend? something did, i can tell." she steps into his line of vision, and he huffs out a frustrated sigh.

"nothing, allison, jeez. now can we-"

"stiles, tell me right now or i'll go ask her instead. and she'll tell me. and then i'll tell her you said it was nothing and... and that will really hurt her feelings. you know it will. if it was something, it will."

"alright!" he snaps, shushing her and steering her by the shoulders away from the group. she still has that stubborn scowl on her face, and stiles scrubs a hand over his own expression as he tries to calm himself. "okay. fine."

"after the most recent game," he sighs, "i planned on telling her... how i feel about her. and i got her this necklace. cheesy, i know. but, um, i chickened out and put the necklace in my duffel bag. well, i forgot i did that and brought it all the way here on accident, and when i found it i put it on my bedside table. when she came over last night, she saw it and i got... i acted like an asshole to get her to drop the subject, and she could tell i was lying about it. and i feel like an idiot because i know she hates lying but it just felt so good to finally have her, for just a second. and then it all went to shit and now she thinks the necklace is for another girl and that i'm a player and a liar."

allison blinks, silent for a second. then , she breaks out in a huge, girly smile. "you got her a necklace?"

"will you-" he starts to cover her mouth before deciding against it, and swallows, glancing around to see if anyone heard. "it doesn't even matter now, okay? she hates my guts and i would too. i was kind of a horrible liar and huge dickhead back there."

"stiles stilinski, you're in loooove. that's so sweet!" allison is still hung up on the necklace (which stiles already lost), as she pokes his arm teasingly. "what was it?"

clenching his jaw, stiles grumbles out a short description of the necklace, and that only sends allison into a bigger giggling fit. he's blushing like a kid, glaring at her, and she doesn't even care.

"okay, well, you're gonna apologize. today. before we leave. and then that necklace is going around her neck and you're confessing, because you totally fucked up and she deserves a good day." allison is still grinning like the cheshire cat, and stiles shakes his head at her demands.

"noooo way, i'm not talking to her until my pride heals. and until she stops looking like that." he glances over at you finally, eyes filled with the longing in his chest. you look sad, even when you smile, like you feel it to your core. "i can't stand the thought that i made her look so..."

"rejected?" allison pipes in, also watching you now. "yeah, that's because she thinks the boy she's been head over heels for the past... however long, is about to gift expensive jewelry to another girl. you have the power to change that, stiles. and you're going to. today."

"but i-" stiles can't even form a response before allison's walking away and over to scott, pulling him away from the conversation you and him were having. you catch stiles staring, and the both of you look away like wounded animals.

☆

stiles is reading the information panel next to an exhibit when scott sidles up next to him, glaring holes into his skull. "dude."

"hm." stiles barely responds, immersed in the jargon of the museum that scott would have a hard time understanding.

"don't 'hm' me right now, allison told me what happened." stiles can hear the annoyance in his best friend's voice. "you have to tell her. right now. she's, like, depressed!"

"what do you want me to do?!" stiles hisses quietly, whirling around to face scott with a scowl. "i'm trying not to hurt her more by rubbing my presence all in her face!"

"first of all, gross." scott deadpans, scrunching his nose. "second of all, that is the complete opposite of what she needs. look, i'm not a genius when it comes to girls,"

stiles scoffs.

"but," scott continues, "if there's one thing i do know, it's that girls love apologies. good ones. ones that end with really nice gifts that are personalized to the girl. and you are totally screwing this up right now!"

stiles rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up slightly. "i don't even have the goddamn necklace on me!" their whispers grow a bit more passionate, and a few people turn their heads as they pass the boys. scott digs in his pocket, presenting the small box.

"it was on my bed this morning. now take it, and find a secluded spot and make your speech good. i swear to god, stiles, i can't stand watching you mope around like a lovesick dog and tell yourself she's 'too good' for you. if you don't get this over with, i'm telling her you like her and that's going to be a whole bunch of underwhelming."

stiles stares at scott with a bit of shock, mouth open slightly.

"what?"

"i didn't know you knew how to pronounce underwhelming. or what it meant. you've really been studying, huh?"

"shut up." scott laughs and shoves the box into stiles' chest. he catches it and stares at it hopelessly as scott leaves him to ponder, turning the box over in his hands.

the first thing stiles does is peel the sticker off the bottom. then, he shoves the box in his pocket and goes looking for you.

lo and behold, you're admiring a painting almost as pretty as you, eyes dancing along the brushstrokes like you made them yourself. stiles approaches quietly, letting his eyes drink you in for a moment before he dares to speak.

"hey," he hums and you jump a bit, turning on your heel to face him with wide eyes. "can we talk?"

you tuck some of your hair back and nod, not meeting his eyes. he nods too, just once, and leads you out of the room your group is in. stiles hopes he can remember correctly, that his research wasn't in vain and that exhibit that he knew you'd like was here. down a couple more huge halls filled with people, past the food court. you never asked where he was taking you, just looked around and followed closely behind.

there. a sign, in loopy writing with an arrow pointing to the left. stiles followed it and found the entrance, lit with pretty fairy lights and a huge sign above the door.

botanical garden.

he opens the door and lets you in first, but you don't step in; meeting his eyes instead, hesitating, and open your mouth to say something. but then you decide against it and go in, stiles following close behind.

it's gorgeous.

a greenhouse of sorts, with all kinds of flowers blooming all over. you lead the way, walking slowly and drinking in the sights and smells of the garden. stiles thinks you look radiant next to the spurts of color, complimenting them like you came with the garden itself. he watches you admire the different plants as you walk deeper into the garden, reaching the door that leads to the outdoor area slowly.

the two of you step outside and are blown away with the beauty of the garden. it's colorful and bright, doused in the scent of the flowers and sounding of the fountain in the water. once you start walking the path again, stiles musters up the bit of courage he might still possess and speaks up.

"i was an asshole last night."

you glance up at him, but continue walking silently.

"i lied to you, and i was wrong to do that. i'm sorry."

you stop abruptly, stiles skittering to a halt beside you and blinking down at your narrowed eyes.

"right. but you still let me sleep in your bed with full knowledge that you were going to... to... romance another girl the next day, and i don't think that's right."

he grinds his teeth and swallows. "i wasn't-i'm not going to romance another girl. can't you...?" he huffs, scruffing up his hair in frustraion.

"then who was the jewelry for?" you demand, stepping forward to accuse him more passionately. "looked awfully important, and don't try telling me it was anyone else's, stiles. i saw your name on the box. i mean, seriously, what kind of a lie-"

"it's you." the fountain erupts in a beautiful spurt of water beside the two of you. the confession comes out of stiles before he means it to, and it's not as lengthy and wordy as he pictured it. "it's always been you. really, seriously. always. i mean, you're so passionate and honest and funny and kind. are you kidding me? another girl? it's laughable. i've... i'm... it's you."

you stare up at stiles as he pleads at you with his eyes, filled with longing and need and want that goes unfulfilled without you. he's breathing a bit heavy as he watches you part your lips.

"me?"

he nods, eyebrows upturned, and fishes around his pocket before pulling out the small black box that caused him so much anguish. handing over, he urges you. "open it."

you do, pulling the lid off gently and peering down at what stiles has been hiding from you. a gasp leaves your lips as you pull out the small, gorgeous necklace that has your favorite flower dangling from the chain. you admire it for a long moment, leaving stiles to hold his breath and pray you don't throw it in the lake and run.

instead, you meet his eyes and he can see the tears brimming at the corners. "stiles. tell me it's not just a gift."

"no, no, no no no no-don't, don't cry." he panics, unsure of the cause of your emotional state as he rushes forward to cup your cheeks and swipe the tears as they begin to roll down your face. "it's not just a gift, it's a confession. i like you. so much. every day i wake up and i wish you were next to me. i constantly think about you, your hair and your eyes and your mind and your smile. i feel so... so home with you. please don't cry."

"they're good tears." you laugh and lean into one of his hands, sniffling. "i like you too, stiles. i just... i was so scared it was for another girl, i can't believe i was a bitch over nothing."

"you reacted just like i would, honestly. i should've just fessed up. i'm so sorry." he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. "please forgive me."

"i do." you whisper immediately, warm in his hands. he sighs with relief and lets his eyes fall closed for a moment, drinking in the comfortable silence with you.

"let me put it on you?" he asks, heart still hammering from the leap he finally, finally took. how did he wait so long? having you like this is the best thing he's ever felt.

you hand him the necklace wordlessly and turn around, lifting your hair. he loops the pretty chain around your neck and clips it in the back, letting it fall against your skin. when you turn back to face him and show it off, asking a timid "how does it look?" he has to remember how to speak.

"it's perfect."

stiles leans forward slowly, giving you time to move. when you don't, he cups a hand around your neck and pulls you close, kissing you softly. he hears the box fall to the ground as you kiss back, arms looping around his neck and foot kicking up like it does in the movies. you fit just right against him, like you were made for each other. stiles tucks that thought away and pulls back, admiring your beautiful, just-kissed blush.

after a long pause, you break into a smile and stiles matches it, both of you giggling softly.

"oh my god, we're both idiots." you laugh, kissing his cheek sweetly. he hums in agreement and leans down, kissing the pendant that sits on your sternum. you swallow the giddy squeal that a young, newly-crushing you wants to emit from years prior. stiles pulls you close by the waist and smiles down at you, eyes darting between your lips and your eyes.

"does this mean i finally get to be your boyfriend?" he teases, a dopey grin he always seems to have with you melting your heart.

"i dunno," you pretend to think. "are you gonna lie to avoid having feelings around me?"

"gahhh," he throws his head back and groans. "am i ever gonna live that down?"

"nope!" you laugh and kiss his exposed neck. "you're really not."

"that's okay," he leans down again, lining up for another kiss. "as long as i get to keep doing this."

somehow, it's sweeter than the last, and the hand stiles doesn't have on your waist is pulling you closer gently by the pendant around your neck.

☆

allison and scott cheer like they just won a lacrosse game when you and stiles show up twenty minutes later than you were supposed to with your hands connected and silly smiles on your faces.

"we did it!" allison squeals, pulling scott in for a hug. "we're matchmakers!"

"we're so good at this, babe!" scott kisses all over his girlfriend's face and makes her laugh loudly. stiles raises an eyebrow at the couple.

"if by 'matchmakers' you mean threatening, stealing, lying, and emotionally manipulating-then yes, you two are fantastic at this." he drawls, making your eyes go wide as you hear everything they did to your (now) boyfriend. your eyes meet a guilty allison as her and scott begin to back away slowly.

"you two did what?!"

☆

heyyyyy guysss........ i feel so bad for taking so long omg. and this isn't even good enough in my eyes for the time it took!! i'm sorry i've been so inactive! i'm going to (hopefully) get the train back on track after this bad boy gets out and about. love you all, keep requesting lovely lovely dob characters! or just pop by and say hi, words of affirmation work better on me than they should (praise kink) (jk) (not jk) (but jk if it makes you uncomfortable)!

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brian x reader #stiles x reader #dylan o'brien #teen wolf #fanfic #star writes #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski blurb #stiles stilinski x you

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felmonth · 10 months

Text

(Edited and slightly better developed! Will be updated until further notice)

Hey, neighbors! I am alive! XD

AAAAH! I finally managed to finish Tom's sheet, but for Au "Actors," the author of this AU is @frillsand. I've been wanting to create drawings related to this AU for a while now, and there are still comics that I want to share.

Wally won my heart -cries- 😭💘, of course, haha. I'll be sharing with you all the comics that come to mind regarding this AU.

WARNING: Before proceeding, this may contain sensitive content, you have been warned. I hope you enjoy the extended blog and the extra mini-comic to lighten the mood.

Well without anything else to say about it...let's start with Tom Unlucky, the stylist!!

Tom Actor's Story:

In a town called "Titirilquén," Thompson (Tom) Lucky grew up alongside his mother and brother Jack Lucky. They depended on each other for everything. They didn't own a television, but they would find TVs on in stores where mostly there were news and interviews with celebrities. Both of them dreamed of becoming actors inspired by the experiences shared by those celebrities on television. Their school further fueled their interests, as it offered a theater subject and a variety of art-related courses.

At school, Jack exhibited a captivating personality in his school theater performances, earning admiration from everyone. However, Jack felt uncomfortable because nobody paid attention to his brother, who was also improving with each performance and costume. Therefore, Jack decided to involve his brother in everything to make him stand out just like himself...

Over time, the school grants Jack a special scholarship that involves working in one of the largest studios in Titirilquen despite being very young. This news greatly delights Jack, so he mentions it to his brother about this opportunity to become what they wanted to be at that time. Unfortunately, those who gave Jack the opportunity were very disappointed when he brought Tom to work with him, so they reluctantly accepted Tom only because Jack requested it.

When Jack was not around Tom, they assigned him different tasks than what an actor should do, completely deviating from the agenda that Tom had planned for the week. This led him to become overloaded with tasks, but he didn't complain because he thought it had to happen when living the life of an actor.

Jack and Tom were the first young actors in the Titirilquén studio. They initially performed in a few presentations for a museum, and then the director decided to create a program with them. Both did their best until they became somewhat more known thanks to the news in their town, and Tom was no longer as ignored as when he first joined. They reached a broader audience, leading them to want to learn more about the people in their town. So, they started learning sign language and refining their voices for musical sections to begin a small program aimed at families.

Both were directed by the same assistant, "Ron," but due to unforeseen circumstances, he had to retire because he had to move to another country for another job opportunity where he could earn more money to support his family. They had a new assistant, a woman named "Cherry," and from this moment, problems arose. The new assistant was serious and easily stressed when the director had to tell her what to do. As a result, she left the job of directing to the two young actors.

This assistant was starting to have too many problems with the brothers, she envied that both brothers mentioned the previous assistant's actions. However, they did not say this with bad intentions but rather so that he could do his job well, since the director was demanding regarding what should be on the schedule of both brothers. Over time, the work environment between them improved, but something was missing in the assistant's life, the brothers did not say many things to her or chat with her, but instead spoke only among themselves.

One day, Cherry overheard a conversation between the two brothers about the previous assistant. Cherry misinterpreted this as a threat to her job and felt worthless to both brothers. He decided to come up with a plan with his fellow students. The plan was to put one of the brothers in a problematic situation so that she could do something to help them and get recognition for it because according to her, the brothers did not value her.

The chosen target was Tom, as Cherry considered him weak and incapable. After finishing his singing section of the show, Tom left the studio to take a break and have a drink.

He noticed that his co-workers near a restaurant were calling him to chat, Tom without noticing any suspicion in them, approached them with great joy, because he admired what his co-workers were doing in the studio.

And being recognized and starting a conversation by them was a great joy for Tom, since he always lived underestimated as just a simple doll who cannot stand out among humans.

Unfortunately, there were ulterior motives. While they were talking to Tom normally, they took him behind the studio, which looked like an alley, and there a cruel scare developed. These coworkers mentioned negative things when they entered the alley and Tom felt uncomfortable by his coworkers' sudden mood swings. He tried to back away, but was easily caught. While saying negative things, they gradually destroyed parts of his body, including arms, legs, wrists, and fingers. They showed no concern for the little puppet's screams and fear because, to them, he was just a doll that couldn't feel pain, or so they claimed, they made fun of him for being too dramatic when he screamed.

When this situation came to an end, the group of companions left, leaving him alone, Tom remained on the ground, crying without understanding how the situation took such a sudden turn. Just a few moments ago everything was fine and now he was helpless on the ground, motionless. He could only see the cotton sticking out of his body and his limbs outside his body, he could only move his head at the moment, he felt completely useless. He prayed that his brother would find him and help him, but then Cherry appeared, pretending to be worried about Tom. She helped him in this terrible situation and took him to the emergency tailoring service.

Now, with Tom recovered, he was mentally depressed and shattered. He looked at his stitched-up body and felt very insecure about venturing into the streets inhabited by humans. He didn't want to go through a similar situation again, so his only support rested on Cherry.

Tom was immensely grateful to her for helping him in this terrible and stressful situation. After a few long minutes of silence, he told his assistant that he didn't want to continue his acting career. This surprised Cherry, but she said nothing and just listened, offering ideas. She felt quite good about helping Tom in these moments of stress. She informed the director about this decision, and of course, he was very concerned and saddened, especially when Tom requested not to inform his brother.

When Tom was discharged on the same day as the accident, he didn't want to go home because a thought crossed his mind: he had always depended on his brother and was only causing him problems. So, with a heavy heart, he decided to distance himself from his brother. The assistant supported all of Tom's ideas, including the idea of complete separation. She was happy that Tom depended on her, so she found him a job outside the country without consulting him.

From Jack's perspective, after the accident, he found it strange that his brother didn't appear on the show. He asked the director why there were sudden changes in the program and why his brother wasn't there. The director decided to be tough with him, saying they hired him and not his brother. He gave Jack new rules for the new direction of the show. Jack was devastated by this news. He considered quitting his job but thought better of it; he wanted to see his brother at home.

When he arrived home, there were no traces of his brother or his belongings. He tried calling him, but there was no phone coverage. In his desperation, he contacted the authorities to inquire about his brother, but they only started working after at least two days of being missing.

This situation was stressful for Jack and his mother. They were very worried and considered various possibilities of what might have happened. Tom decided not to tell them anything when offered a call by the authorities and declared that he wouldn't return home. His family was concerned because they heard a weak voice through the phone, but it was all they could do as the studio was too secretive with the information.

Both brothers remained separated for a long time. For Jack, nothing was the same without Tom, and the show looked depressing. Despite this, he maintained a forced smile for his audience. Children asked a lot about his brother, leading him into deep depression.

Tom, moved to another country, working in a new studio as a stylist. He adopted a fearful, anxious, and panicked attitude, afraid of everyone. To distract himself, he overloaded himself with work, trying to maintain composure by breathing deeply. He couldn't stop thinking about his family, and he knew what he was doing wasn't healthy, but he wanted to stay away for a while.

Well, that's roughly the story. It's long, but I feel that now it's better understood than before. Thanks for staying to read and loving Tom Actor! -cries-

Curious facts about Titirilquén today:

Lately, I've been hooked on a series called "31 minutos," so I included some things from that series. I highly recommend it, it's in Spanish, but there are English subtitles available. Titirilquén is from that show.

Titirilquén doesn't have hospitals because literally no one gets sick there. However, there are places like Mrs. Juanita's service, who takes care of the damaged puppets in this town.

Titirilquén was a town of only puppets but tired of being anonymous and as an unknown town, they decided to include people in their town, building a civilization, the negative of the town only benefits the humans that its own puppet inhabitants.

Facts about Tom:

(Jack's data was deleted to create his respective sheet)

He is 27 years old now.

He speak spanish but he learned English thanks to Cherry.

He is very naive, and that works against him, as he decides to trust everyone.

He has a puppet friend in this studio and his name is Lulu but he affectionately calls him "Wolfy"

When he first arrived at the studio, the studio people confused him with Wally, so since that day, some just call him "Pink Wally." (This is due to his height, skin tone and hair shape, so Tom changed his look to messier hair to not look like Wally)

Tom is a very good worker, but he always hides after finishing his work and doesn't get distracted by anything while working. If a human talks to him, he ignores them, but if it's a puppet, he takes time to chat.

Despite hiding, he is found by children, most of whom are human.

He misses being an actor but is very afraid.

Alongside his brother, they worked on a children's educational program called "Sing until Counting to 3." They taught children songs that included sign language. However, when they leave, the program is completely forgotten by the director.

Tom and Jack are not the same height, Jack has to bend down to hug and talk to him.

Tom usually wears makeup, always in pink or fuchsia, which is his favorite color.

Tom often sees little due to his poor eyesight, so he sometimes needs glasses to see clearly, but he usually doesn't use them because he finds them unnecessary.

Tom has fallen in love with Cherry due to her concern for him (friend, realize...).

As you can see, Tom is afraid of humans, and you rarely find him crying in studio places where people don't live, or even paranoid. If you find him in this situation, make him feel comfortable because he is completely unstable at that moment.

People consider him strange and curious because he often hides and is fearful, and they don't understand why he behaves like that. (It doesn't mean he avoids bad situations with the studio's humans; some of them respect the puppets, while others decide to hate them.)

Tom in this Au has a human brother, in the style of muppet protagonists. His name is Jack Lucky and they are both very close and have achieved many things together by working as a team. Jack is very attentive to his puppet brother, caring for him and trying to understand him as best he can.

Will Tom manage to become an actor again? Will his life improve? Will his brother Jack locate him after a long time? Will Tom continue to call himself unfortunate? Find out in the next episode... *Felmonth bids farewell to the viewers watching the video.*

NOW, COMIC! YAY!!

Title: "First unlucky day"

Reference movie: "White Chicks"

I don't know what Janet's design is like, I didn't find any reference, so I made it with what I found.

And well that was all, I hope you liked everything, I did the best I could and as always if there are questions ask without problems.

Bye byeeee!

Extra: It is assumed that in this unplanned part, Wally told Tom "Consider yourself unlucky for working with me from now on." (No canon for me xD but extra)

Bye uwu)/💐

#draw #drawing #art #my artwork #welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home fanart #wh wally #welcomehomeproject #welcome home oc #welcomehomeau #welcome home artist #welcome home actor au #actor wally au #wallydarling #wally darling au #wally darling fanart

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rangerbarbz · 6 days

Text

Serving Up Romance pt. 3

Author's Note: guys this semester has been raw dogging me tbh. curse my damn zoology classes. anyways love being a woman in stem and I love Stan Pines. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COME OUT IVE BEEN SO BUSY. ALSO I AM SO HONORED AND THANKFUL FOR ALL THE KIND RESPONSES YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME <3 (If there's typos my bad im running on like 2% capacity and horny)

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this eager to get home. The car ride back to your house was mainly spent in comfortable silence between you and Stan. That was alright, though. His hand was on your knee drawing lazy circles with his thumb while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was pure bliss.

The radio then started to play a love song that you couldn’t remember the name of anymore. You smiled and began to sing along quietly, tapping to the beat of the song on Stan’s skin. You heard him chuckle.

“Sorry, I’m doing a drum solo on your neck,” you joked, increasing the speed of your tapping. He grinned, still looking at the road.

“S’alright.” He then looked over at you fondly. “I like your singing, by the way. Ya got a voice that matches your face” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I don’t know about that, but thank you,” you replied.

You soon saw the familiar opening of your driveway. Stan parked his Diablo behind your car. He then unbuckled his seatbelt at the speed of light and flung open his door. He jogged to the passenger side to open the door for you. He stood with his back straight like he was your bodyguard.

You giggled, stepping out of the car. “You’re real chivalrous, Pines,” you cooed, patting his cheek.

He winked at you. “I did my homework.”

“Well,” you stood on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “let’s see how you do on the final exam.” You swore you could feel the heat from his blush radiating off him.

“Yes, well, I hope, I mean- I will pass,” he stammered as you took hold of his hand. You guided him up your front porch stairs to unlock the door. Once you were inside, you both began to kick your shoes off. “Nice digs you got here, doll. I especially like this thing.” He had walked over to your dining table while you were still unstrapping your sandals to pick up a clay structure you had found at an antique store. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was colorful and was a perfect centerpiece.

You figured he was being sarcastic so you responded, “Aw, leave it alone!”

He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? I’m being serious. I like art. There’s a reason I’m banned at museums.” You laughed and threw your shoe on the floor. You crossed over to him as he continued to examine it to wrap yourself around his midsection. He hummed and set the piece down to caress your forearms.

You kissed his back through the fabric of his button-up. “You wanna go to my room?” you asked softly. He turned around and swiftly picked you up, your legs hooking around his waist. Your eyes were as wide as saucers, face beginning to flush. His hands were digging into your thighs to support you; they felt rough against your soft flesh.

“Where to, sweetheart?” he mumbled, planting kisses on your jawline.

“L-last door on the right,” you squeaked. He started to walk carefully with you in his arms to your room before laying you down on your bed. His cheeks were tinged a light pink as his lips met yours once again. He kissed you firmly, his forearms bracing himself on either side of your head. You snaked your arms around his torso to pull him closer to you while your tongue slipped past his lips. He tasted like the cheap cigars he got from the Dusk-2-Dawn in town, but you needed to taste more of him.

Your hands moved to his dark hair, entangling it in your fingers. You groaned as the kiss became more sloppy. His right hand dragged down the side of you, outlining your waist and hip and eventually stopping to grip the outside of your thigh. Stan then broke the kiss to take a look at you. Your makeup had been smudged and your hair was spilling out behind your head. You were a vision.

“Fuck,” Stan groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. His finger slipped underneath the strap of your dress. “Can I take this off? Please?” His voice was dripping with lust as he kissed you gently on your cheek. Oh, shit was this really happening? You talked big game outside, but now that it got down to it, you were getting a little nervous.

“Uh, yes. Let me get up real quick.” He rolled off of you to let you stand up, your back facing towards him. You began to unzip your dress, but it got stuck at the top of the zipper.

“Oh, hold on, sweetheart. I got you.” Stan stood up to maneuver the slider so that it went down easier. You bit your lip to suppress the grin forming over something so domestic. “There we go,” he said, unzipping your dress the rest of the way. This was still Stan. You had nothing to be worried about.

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning to face him. His eyebrows lifted as you let the dress fall from your shoulders and crumple on the shoulder. Both of you were blushing from the vulnerability of the situation. You stood before him in a lacy bra push-up bra and matching light pink panties.

He swallowed hard. “I, wow,” he ran his hands through his hair and exhaled, “you’re…beautiful.” You gave him a wide smile.

“Your turn now, handsome.” You kissed him and began to unbutton his shirt one by one while his hands slid down your back. His hands began to wander over your hips, waist, and down to your butt where he squeezed roughly. He swallowed the squeak you made by colliding his lips with yours. His shirt fell to the floor showing off a broad, hairy chest. You ran your fingers through the coarse hair before grasping onto his burly shoulders for balance. His teeth and tongue fought with yours while he sat on the edge of the bed, bringing you into his lap.

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” Stan whispered, fumbling with the hook of your bra. You felt some light pressure as it came undone. He tossed it to the floor with the growing pile of clothes. His eyes then became transfixed on your breasts. You saw him swallow and his face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Are they okay?” you asked self-consciously.

His eyes met yours immediately. “Okay?” He glanced back down at your breasts and the back at you. “Babe, they’re…” he shook his head, “they’re fucking smokin’.” Your laughter from his blunt compliment was cut off by a sharp inhale. His lips had latched on to your right nipple while he fondled the other breast vigorously. Your fingers weaved into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp, and his tongue swirling over your areola.

“Stan…” you breathed, grinding down on the bulge in his blue jeans. He had started to repeat his same ministrations on your other nipple, giving it a gentle bite. You yelped; he looked up at you with that shit-eating grin that said Ha, I made you make that sound. He then pulled you to him as he laid his back against the comforter of your bed.

“You mind if I take these off, doll?” Stan asked, tugging at the waistband of your panties. You grinned.

“I don’t mind,” you replied. “What are you gonna do when they’re off?”

Stan rolled his eyes playfully. “Not tellin’.” He carefully slid his panties over the globes of your ass. “That’ll ruin the surprise.” He suddenly flipped you over so that your positions were switched. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face. “Learned that from boxing,” he joked, now watching as he removed your panties the rest of the way. He licked his lips; the lacy material grazing your calf. He eventually set them at the end of the bed, eyes never leaving your molten core.

“Stan?” you asked. His eyes darted to meet yours. His pupils were insanely dilated…Hungry even.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just… Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Would you mind if I…” his voice trailed off. He leaned down to peck at your kneecap. Oh.

“Oh, you mean, like oral?” you stammered.

“I mean like eating you out,” Stan clarified. So you were right.

“Y-you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind, but don’t you want me to take care of you?” To be honest, you weren’t used to guys putting you first.

Stan frowned. “Toots, I have been thinking about your legs around my head all night. This is for me as much as it is for you.” You felt every part of your body heat up.

“Oh, okay then. Yes, I think that would be very enjoyable,” you replied nervously, unsure of how to respond. Stan laughed before placing his hands at your thighs to gently part your legs further.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmured, head moving down to leave open-mouthed kisses up your leg. His hands were splayed on the outside of your thighs; his mouth was slowly inching to where you needed him most. Your breath shuddered, clutching the sheets to brace yourself for his touch.

“So pretty,” Stan groaned, pressing his lips against your labia. You gasped at the contact, making him chuckle. “So wet for me, too.” His big hands moved to your hips while the tip of his tongue teased your slit. He then pulled you closer to his mouth to give your swollen clit the attention it needed so badly. He swirled his tongue around the bud carefully, the pads of his fingers sinking into your hips.

“Oh, God,” you cried out. You quickly covered your mouth with the palms of both your hands out of embarrassment.

“Uh, uh,” Stan chastised. He lifted his head to gently take your wrists and uncover your face. “I want to hear everything.” He then positioned your hands to the back of his head. “And don’t be afraid to take what you want, sweetheart.” Stan delved back into your cunt, not being as tender as he was before. He was fucking you with his tongue, tasting every bit of you that he could.

You gripped his hair and squeezed your thighs around his head. “Stan! Please,” you exclaimed, “don’t stop.” You were now grinding your clit against his strong nose, hips swiveling to their own accord. Stan sighed dreamily, using the flat of his tongue to lick a stripe up your pussy. You accidentally tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to let out what can only be described as a guttural whimper. That was the cause of your undoing. The build-up developing in your abdomen reached its peak by gushing onto Stan’s mouth and sending shockwaves through your body.

When you came down from your high, Stan was laying there wide-eyed in awe of what he had just witnessed. “That…” he breathed, “was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He laid his head on your stomach and gave it a quick peck. “Ya know, if you’re up to it, I got a rubber in my-”

“Yes,” you interjected. “I need to feel you in me right now.”

“Oh, alright. Hold on let me just,” he fumbled over his words, reaching into his pocket to reveal a worn leather wallet. He pulled out a square golden wrapper and ripped it open with his teeth. You crawled over to him to unbuckle his belt, kneeling at the end of the bed.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this,” you confessed, unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

“Oh, fuck,” Stan groaned as you exposed his throbbing cock form his boxers. It was painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. You wrapped your lips around it, sucking it slightly before dragging your tongue down his shaft. He threw his head back as you used your fingers to fondle his balls gently and take him further into your mouth. His fingers wove into the hair above your ear, cradling your head. You gazed up at him to see his face flushed and eyelids hooded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not gonna last much longer like this, and I really want to feel ya,” Stan apologized. You nodded and removed your mouth from his cock so he could slide the condom on. You laid down on the bed and let him hover over you, lining himself up with your entrance. This was really happening.

“Okay, I’m about to put it in. Just, let me know if I hurt ya, okay? Let me know what feels good too,” Stan instructed lovingly. He caged your head in with his forearms and gave you a sweet kiss. You then felt pressure in your lower half of Stan entering you. You and Stan gasped in unison at the feeling.

“Stan,” you breathed. “You feel…so good.” He started to move his hips back and forth, eyes studying your face and how it scrunched up in pleasure.

“You do too, Y/N. Oh, God.” His pace began to pick up. He looked from side to side at your arms in search of something to anchor him. He interlocked your hands in his and put his head in the crook of your neck, grunting into your skin. It was so much. It was so sensual. He made you feel so beautiful. That familiar feeling was approaching as his hips slammed into yours. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and starting to shake.

“I’m almost there, Stan.”

Stan’s eyes met yours, his hair a mess and sweat starting to bead at his temples. “Come on, baby, let me feel it. Give it to me,” he begged. Once again, his gruff voice was the cause of your intense orgasm. You screamed his name while he chased his own. His thrusts were no longer uniform but sloppy.

You felt his body tense up and relax as he came. He pressed his forehead into the valley of your breasts and just breathed. You played with his hair absentmindedly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasms.

He eventually pulled himself from you, making you feel empty. He went to the bathroom to toss the used condom and came back to hold you flush to his chest. He kissed along the shell of your ear and held you by your waist.

“Breakfast is on me in the morning,” Stan whispered. “I’ll make you my special: Stancakes.”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you shifted your body to face him. He was giving you a dopey smile. You planted a kiss on his nose. “Can’t wait.”

People who wanted to be tagged (i love y’all): @lucas1253 @vitality-falls @daniel-meyer-03 @marvelous-maniac @daisysinadarkmedow @lordbelkamort @mayhaps-nerd @ziragus

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #grunkle ford #grunkle stan #stanley pines #ford pines x reader #imagine #pines family #smut #stan pines x you #stan pines x reader #stan pines #book of bill #fluff #gravity falls fandom #gravity falls fanfiction

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mysteryshoptls · 5 months

Text

SSR Epel Felmier - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: I'm gonna be a supporter for the museum, huh. I'm a little worried whether I can really do it, but... I'ma do mah best!

Summon Line: Art seems pretty difficult to actually do, but... A museum would kinda be fun to look around, I guess? Hope we can enjoy ourselves here today.

Groooovy!!: Almost anyone would want to take a big bite out of a shiny, red apple if they're given one, don'tcha think?

Home: A 100th anniversary, awesome!

Home Idle 1: Apparently the Thorn Fairy covered a whole castle with briars in an instant. I wonder what kind of magic she used... Something to make them grow faster?

Home Idle 2: People who can draw are amazing. I have trouble trying to picture what I want to draw, let alone actual talent.

Home Idle 3: The way Riddle-san was lecturing on the Queen of Hearts was just like how a professor would. Man... I need to study much harder like him...

Home Idle - Login: I ain't know nothin' 'bout paintin', but they's got some hangin' up I's seen b'fore. Oops, uh... This is such a fun museum, wouldn't you say?

Home Idle - Groovy: There's this cafe that Cater-san recommended to me. But it looks way too flashy... Don't think I can bring myself to go alone...

Home Tap 1: Did you buy any souvenirs? I chose a memo stand that looks like the poison apple the Fairest Queen made.

Home Tap 2: The King of Beasts looks so proud and hella cool in every painting they got of him here. One day, I'll be just someone just as amazing...!

Home Tap 3: Looks like Idia-san's really into the Lord of the Underworld. I saw him taking in a painting all serious-like with his arms folded and everything.

Home Tap 4: Jade-san was super engrossed reading the description of the painting showing the potion that the Fairest Queen concocted. He really looked like he was enjoying himself.

Home Tap 5: Huh, am I wearing this outfit wrong!? Oh, you just came over to tell me it looked good on me... Whew, you scared me. Thanks...

Home Tap - Groovy: Was there any specific painting you liked? That one, huh... If I get the chance, I'll go take a closer look at it!

Duo: [EPEL]: Time fer us ta git down 'n do it to it, Cater-san! [CATER]: E-Epel-chan, what did you just say?

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for the birthday present! Oh yeah, let me give you something in return. How about some skin cream? I got some from of my dormmates, but there's no way I can use up all of it... They're all nicely packed in a cardboard box, so I'll swing by Ramshackle later to drop them off. Don't worry about me, just take 'em all!

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #epel felmier #cater diamond #twst epel #twst cater #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: riddle #mention: cater #mention: idia #mention: jade

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thewhumpcaretaker · 2 months

Note

John getting drunk Santino home (Santino tripped over his own feet)

Hiiiii :3 This really veered off of the prompt aaaaaa it's not exactly the same thing, but it is filled with DRAMA!

(Also, this picture is pure gold. I think it’s saved on my Pinterest in like three places and it makes me feel something every time I see it.)

🖤💙 Walking Home 💙🖤

TW: alcohol, arguing

It was a brilliantly clear night in the streets of Rome. The cobblestones were scattered with flecks of golden lamplight and the moon perched its yellow hemisphere low on the horizon, echoing the distant domes of cathedrals. But John Wick had rarely felt his heart sit so heavily in his chest.

The evening had started off well enough. It was the third day of a getaway to Rome, which John had requested in an effort to keep Santino from working himself to death, and which Santino had agreed to because he never missed an excuse to pamper his “little guard dog”. After sleeping in and spending the day exploring museums and old shops, they’d finally ended up in a gorgeous restaurant and bar that John would never have noticed if Santino hadn’t been familiar with the area. It was there that the waiter mistook them for a married couple. John turned the same color as the tomato passata and said he thought that was very sweet. That he could picture it.

Santino disagreed. “What, you want to settle down and get married? Be serious, John.”

“And you don’t?”

He scoffed. “Me? Married? I can’t imagine a worse life, honestly. Well, I might have to marry for an alliance one day, but - ”

“You’re telling me you don’t see a future for us?”

And from there, things…escalated.

John had stormed out and found himself walking, weaving through crooked streets without really seeing them, replaying the memories of their argument over and over in his head. He winced again, thinking of the look on Santino’s face at the idea of marriage. It stabbed him right in the heart every time, to think that growing old together disgusted Santino so much. But why should he be surprised? He was just a killer, and Santino was a prince.

He found his footsteps heading for the Continental, since he had no intention of returning to the D’Antonio estate that night. Clearly this was the end of things between them. Why did he let himself get so attached in the first place? He was on a narrow, residential street that slanted downwards sharply enough to give him sight of rooftops stretching away, and to see that he was completely alone. He stopped, fought with himself for half a moment…but if he was going to break down anywhere, it might as well be here. He slumped forward into his hands and just let himself cry.

It was then that he heard someone calling his name.

“John, che - che cazzo ci fai qui? Stronzo. Devi seguirmi. [John – what the – what the fuck are you doing here? You asshole. You must be following me.]”

He opened his eyes to see the small, lithe figure that had emerged from some side street, dark curls glowing in the lamplight. He bristled and tried to wipe at his face before Santino could see anything. “I did NOT – “ but he stopped short. Something didn’t seem right about the way Santino was moving. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am! Me and the pinot grigio made our own fun without you. We even invited the whiskey. What do…wait…are you okay?” Santino had reached him by this point and absently patted a hand against his cheek, feeling tears.

“Hey, stop it…” But John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Both anger and hurt had instantly drowned in concern. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re crying. Don’t cry…” Santino was clingy in this state, his arms wrapping around John’s neck and his forehead butting into his chest. John didn’t know what to do with himself. The impulse was to hug him back but after the way they’d fought, he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Why do you care? I thought…” I thought we were broken up… “You know what, never mind. What are you doing out here? Where’s Ares?”

He pushed off of John’s chest again and stumbled a few steps. “I told her to leave me alone! Just…wanna go home…I think it was that way…” Home was not, in fact, that way.

John shuddered at the thought of the perils inherent in an important, highly recognizable man like Santino wandering unguarded through the streets, too drunk to defend himself. Guilt settled deep in his stomach. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.” He fell into step with Santino, his eyes glued to him with concern and an arm hovering behind his back in case he lost balance. “The Continental is near here. We’ll go there, get a car, find Ares. Okay?”

Santino waved a hand dismissively but he couldn’t carry the gesture at all right now. “Don’t…don’t hover! I can walk.” His shoe hit an odd cobblestone and at that steep angle, it sent him reeling forward. John caught him around the waist before he could go down. He waited to be pushed away but Santino just leaned against him, and this time John couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him. He felt so damn confused, but at least he’d rather be uncertain they were broken up than certain of it.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Santino let his weight fall against him even harder, pushing him back against a lamppost, and slurred, “Non posso essere quello che vuoi, John. Non sono... semplice. Pensi che potrei essere un marito? Guardami. Un litigio e... [I can’t be wha- you want, John. I’m not…simple. You think I could be a husband? Look at me. One fight and…]” He waved an arm across his dishevelment.

John opened his mouth to insist that he'd be a beautiful husband, even like this, but he still wasn’t done. “Vuoi che sia gentile e normale e non lo sono, ok? Sono un mostro, John. Non voglio sposarmi e vivere in qualche piccolo sobborgo a cuocere biscotti. Voglio metterti in mostra davanti alla Tavola Alta e poi sputargli in faccia. Sputare... sputare proiettili in faccia. Voglio scoparti finché... finché non sarò morto e ti amerò oltre la tomba. [You want me to be gentle and normal and I’m not, okay? I am a freak, John. I don’t want to get married and live in some little suburb baking cookies. I want to show you off in front of the High Table and then spit in their faces. Spit…spit bullets in their faces. I want to fuck you until…until I’m dead and love you beyond the grave.]”

John exhaled helplessly, beyond the powers of speech. He tipped his head back for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast chasm between the stars in a way that made him feel like he was falling upward for infinity. His hands were curled around Santino’s arm almost painfully, twisting the fabric. As soon as he found his tongue again, “È quello che voglio. Non mi interessa un pezzo di carta. E non mi interessa dove viviamo o se facciamo parte della Tavola. Non mi interessa nemmeno se avremo mai pace. Voglio TE. [That’s what I want. I don’t care about a piece of paper. And I don’t care where we live or whether we’re a part of the Table. I don’t even care if we ever have peace. I want YOU.]”

“Allora... di che cazzo stiamo discutendo? [Then…what the fuck are we arguing about?]”

John wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but it wound up with lips and teeth pressed together, and Santino tugging hard on his lapels. And it ended with their gazes locked together, two stupidly sweet smiles matching the big “D” of the half moon.

He pulled Santino’s arm over his shoulder and started walking. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

#john x santino #santino d'antonio #john wick #john wick fanfic #hurt/comfort #drunk whumpee #santino d'antonio whumpee #john wick caretaker #// alcohol

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lunawritingspaceoxoxxx · 1 year

Text

Wanted - Hobie Brown x Black Fem Reader

No minors, 18+ only

Tw: Angst, Rough Sex, Dirty talk, dick piercing, cheating

You rubbed your eyes as you blankly stared at your work screen, the days bleeding into weeks–into months as life went on. Relationships are hard; bearing your soul to another person and allowing them to see the most authentic version of you is scary, downright nerve wracking. Pulling your locs into a loose bun as you doubled down on your report that was due in the morning.

It’s been days since you last saw Hobie. One moment, the two of you were at a concert, enjoying yourselves and the next moment, he was gone in a blink and you couldn't help the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach, unable to hold anything down. ‘It’s fine—he does this all the time, I don’t know why it feels so painful this time.’ But you knew why; exactly two months ago, Hobie and you were relaxing in his apartment—he finally had a day where the corrupt government wasn't planning anything too inferious. You watched him strum his guitar, humming to himself.

“What’s going on in your head, pretty girl?” He rasped as he lazily glanced over, the weed making his eyes slightly closed, mirroring your expression. “Nothing, just relaxing.” A lie. You loved the Spiderman in front of you, you wanted nothing more than him to reciprocate your feelings, but he didn’t like conformity and labels—which made life with him difficult. Hobie and you were very touchy with each other, lingering hands and stares were common and talking freely about past sexual conquests was a staple in any conversation. Then that’s where the lines between friends began to blur.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for the self proclaimed anarchist, he knew you from the inside out and backwards, which made it harder to go see when he was around. A cute little blond, chilling on his bean bag and greeting you like you were an old friend. “Hey, this is Gwenie, Miguel just brought her in.” Your world shattered instantly, Hobie looked at her as if she had painted the stars. You’ve known Hobie for years, earning his trust and being exposed to deep, personal things, which made it a slap in the face, especially when Gwen knew about their inside jokes.“Love, you’re spacing out again,” Hobie snapped his fingers,”I said, what are you doing this weekend? I asked Miguel to give me a weekend off and wanted to spend time with my favorite girl.” You snorted, rolling your eyes as you hit the bong, blowing smoking into the room as you leaned your head back. “Going on a date with a coworker.”

Hobie paused, narrowing his eyes as if you had grown a third head. “A date?” “Yeah, we’ve been talking for a moment,nothing too serious.” His blood began to burn, nodding his head as he stared blankly at the wall. “Nothing serious, ay? What about us-” “About what? We fuck, we smoke, that’s really about it. We barely hangout, I kinda chalked us to be friends with benefits, but you don’t like labels nor conformity.” You pushed yourself off the bag as you grabbed your bag, slipping on your sandals. “Love, where are you going? You gonna leave this? Be a coward and run away?” You shrugged your shoulders, nodding your head. “Yeah, I am because I don’t like my time being wasted and that's what you’re doing. Hobie–fuck, I think I may love you and I don’t want to be another notch in your bed frame. You don’t value me as a friend, why does Gwen know our inside jokes? You only call when she’s busy, it’s like I became a backup to her and it’s not fair to me.”

Fast forward two months, Hobie seemingly ignored your confession and acted like nothing happened, you weren’t going to bring it up, so life continued on. It just felt like a massive wall between you, hangouts became even more rarer and as if you lost your best friend overnight. Eric, your coworker, he’s fun, safe, and don’t get it twisted, you like him, but he could be a little boring at times. “Babe, there’s an event going on tomorrow night at the science museum, underneath the stars while being able to observe natural history.” Your eye twitched, sighing softly before you flashed the fakest smile. “Yeah, sounds great, let me check my calendar.” Spray Painting Session w/ Hobie. The last time you and Hobie hung out, it ended early by him stepping away for a smoke break and never returning. Did you really want to risk that, because things were awkward and you tried to address it, but he was adamant about not hearing you out, playing the “I’m busy, gotta go" card.

“Sure, I have to go shopping for a decent dress after this email.”

You sighed as you admired your in the mirror, donning this slick, elegant black little number, pulling your locs to the side. Eric has already left, claiming that his manager needed his expertise on some stuff. “Dressed up for me?” You scoffed at the familiar voice, continuing to blend in your foundation. “Why you getting dressy, we’re only spray-painting-” “Hobart, I’m going to a private event tonight with Eric.” Hobie watched you through the mirror, locking his jaw–his hands grazing the backrest. “Not the government name, must be serious then. Why you choosing that tosser over me? What so great about him?” Hobie watched as you stepped away, slipping into elegant velvet heels. “He’s my boyfriend and I want to support him, is that a difficult concept for you to wrap your head around.” Hobie clicked his tongue, sprawling out onto the silk sheets, much to your annoyance.

“It’s not, but I don’t appreciate my girl isolating me for some git. “ Hobie narrowed his eyes at your appearance. You looked absolutely stunning, there was no doubt in his mind, but this? Yeah, this was supposed to be meant for him only. “‘Your girl?’ That’s funny, I didn’t know that I was already spoken for, Hobie, look–you lost your chance, I confessed my feelings for you and you proceeded to ignore it, so I don’t appreciate being treated like some dog.” Brushing out a few winkles, you finished with the final touches as you grabbed your purse. “Love, you know I never meant to make you feel lesser, but labels-” “You hate labels! You hate consistency! I get it, but you actively led me on! The touches, the stolen kisses–I’ve cleaned your wounds, waited on hands and knees for you! What more do you want from me, I’ve given everything that I can.”

Hobie saw a broken girl in front of him, seeing the exhaustion in your eyes as he tried to come up with something–anything, scoffing you walked away, grabbing your keys as you headed out the door. He sighed, slipping through the window, the shadows masking his figure as you stepped out and met Eric outside. "Oh wow, darling, you look absolutely stunning.” Eric smiled as he twirled you around, Hobie’s fists clenching in jealousy at the site of the couple. He watched as Eric’s hands traveled down your back, pulling you closer to him. “Aw, thank you, I-” Eric’s phone ranged, much to your annoyance as he flashed a pathetic smile as he stepped away. “Sir, we’re about to the event. No sir, but I would-okay. Okay, I’ll finish those tests tonight.”

“Eric, you promised, We never get to do things anymore.” Crossing your arms over your chest as Eric kissed your temple,” It’s frustrating to cancel dates over your boss, why can’t he run tests and let you enjoy the night off?” You could feel tears swelling underneath your eyes as you sighed, pulling away from him. Your feelings for Eric were different from Hobie’s, but to be let down again, maybe you were destined to be alone. “Just text me when you get home.”

This gnawing feeling only grew with every step, close to tears as you pulled off of your heels. You sighed as you leaned against the stainless steel wall, paying no mind when Hobie walked in. “Y/N” “Shut up, please, just hush.” He scoffed as he towered over you, grabbing your chin as he made you look into his eyes. “Listen, love, I know you’re frustrated, but you don’t have to give me lip. I’m trying to be here for you.” Your blood began to flash red hot as you pushed him away, jabbing your fresh set into his chest. “Why now? You haven’t been here for months! Is it because you want to get your dick wet?!”

“No, it’s not, for fuck’s sake, I miss you alot, you make everything okay when I’m going through tough shit, but I also tend to push my friends away. Y/N, everything with the spider society, I couldn’t help, but shut you out, you aren’t apart of it and it wasn’t right of me, but you fell in love with that git and just pushed me away. You flaked out on me because of what? Him.” Hobie was absolutely right, you weren’t even trying to give an excuse. Jealousy was a twisted emotion, clouding your judgment to the point where there was nothing that he could say to change your mind. “Because he’s my boyfriend and you clearly didn’t want me, I wasn’t going to act like a puppy, so I can still have your friendship. I’m sorry, I can’t function that way.”

Hobie’s watch began to beep, groaning as Miguel’s face popped up. He shut off the watch with no regrets as the elevator’s doors opened. Storming to your apartment with him hot on your heels. “I never not wanted you! I thought that it was obvious when we slept together, do you think I sleep around town, inviting anyone into my bed?” You glared at him as he flopped onto your bed, his eyes watching you through the vanity mirror. “But it didn’t stop you flirting with girls right in front of me.” He watched you debeautify yourself, the dark circles underneath your eyes becoming more apparent. You two remained in silence as you began to strip down, revealing the deep emerald lace thong. “You wore that for him and he still left? The boy is so ungrateful,” Hobie pushed himself off the bed as he grasped your hips, pulling you flush against him,”Having the most beautiful little thing in his bed and not doing a damn thing with you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as his rough hand traced along your body, tugging at the thin material as his other hand grazed your collarbone. Snapping out of your trance, you pushed him away, immediately slipping on a robe. “Yeah no, you’re done, get out. I’m not cheating on Eric with you.” “Why are you pushing me away so much? You clearly want me and I want you, what’s so difficult about that?” “Because Hobie, I want you a boyfriend, I love you and I don’t want anyone else, but you don’t like labels, exclusivity is hard for you-” “Bullshit, it’s not hard, I just didn't want my old flings, you want to know why? They weren’t you, just how Gwen and I are close, I don’t want her because I knew you were jealous of her. She may know some of our inside jokes, but she doesn’t have what you have.” Hobie pulled you onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you as if you could break free from his grasp.

“Y/N, we have history together and it’s frustrating to see this wedge between us, it’s hard coming home and knowing that you won’t be there, eating my snacks and being menace to me.” He fondly smiled at your giggle, pulling you closer to him. “I love you, if I wasn’t being clear, Y/N, I know you don’t love Eric, he’s obviously a distraction. Come back to me, let me show you why it’s worth it.” Your breath hitched as the palm of his hand trailed upwards,tugging lighty at the thin piece of fabric. His warm breath fanned against your throat, leaving small kisses starting the base trailing towards your jaw. “Darling…” “Hobie, what about-” You winced at the sharp pain, you could feel his eyes staring into your fiber of yourself. “Don’t speak about him, it’s just us, princess.”

Hobie stepped out of the bed, pulling off his studded jacket and shirt. He bore a shit-eating grin, knowing you were just as excited as him, shaking like a chihuahua. He pulled you towards the edge by your ankle, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses down your leg. “Take it off, show me your tits, sweet cheeks.” Hobie groaned as you tossed your robe to the side, taking in everything. Gasping as his rough hand immediately latched onto your boobs, pinching and twisting your nipples being mindful of your nipple piercings.

“H-Hobie, please-” He gave you a warning look as he bent down, taking one of the pierced buds in mouth, rolling it around as he relished in your cries. It’s been too long and he knew Eric wasn’t fucking you right. He groaned as he felt you rub against his bulge, your legs were wrapped around his waist as if he was going to vanish into thin air. “Nah, princess, this is about you, don’t worry about me.” Hobie ripped off your thong with ease, tossing the shredded fabric to the side.

You hid your face in the plush pillows as he rubbed your clit with no mercy, just the way you like it—much to his annoyance. His hands tangled in your locs, yanking your head up. “None of that hiding shit, let me hear you.” He grabbed your hip with his free hand, pushing two fingers in, immediately curling upwards as you cried out. “Words, princess, you miss my fingers? You squeezing me like a vice.” He pushed your limits as he nipped and sucked at your neck, relishing in your cries.You pulled him towards your lips by his wicks, sloppily making out as you reached his belt, tugging at his spiked belt. “My fucked out little whore, god I missed this look on you.” Hobie has pulled your hair back, shoving his drenched fingers down your throat. He could see the lust in your eyes because he knew that cornball wasn’t satisfying you.

Meanwhile Eric raced home, rushing through the lab results, uncaring if they were accurate or even legible, he just needed to get back to you as soon as possible. He patiently waited to be let in, he couldn’t wait for the day that he moved in with you, the buzzing in and then waiting seemed stupid to him. He waited patiently, humming softly as time went on. “Eric? What are you doing down here? I thought I could hear you and whats her name.” One of your neighbors gave him a puzzled look, letting him inside of the building. “Oh no, I had some last minute business at the lab, I’ve been there for awhile now.”

“A fucking cock whore,”Hobie brutally fucked your throat as you leaned off the bed, pinching your nipples,”You love this cock, don’t you?” Bobbing your head as he reached further down your throat. He watched as your eyes rolled back, jaw going slack. “You ain’t passing out on me?” “No..’m not passin’” You weakly sat up, trying to catch your breath, but not before being pushed down onto your silk sheets. “Good, because I’m not done yet.” With no remorse, he pushed inside of your pussy, setting a brutal pace as you screamed into your pillows, his prince albert piercing was way too overwhelming. “Fuck me, creaming on my cock this fast, oh I know he wasn’t fucking you properly.” You whined as he continued to fuck you with no hestation, gripping your thighs as subconsciously you knew that you would be marked by him.

His other hand reached in, furiously rubbing your clit, trying to extract another orgasm from you. “Fuck, your pussy was meant for me, only me that can fuck you so good, aint that right?” He pulled your head back, smirking at your tears. “Y-Yeah!” “Wasted two months of my time, fucking some limp dick, lanky kid, but this pussy? It belongs to me.” Hobie didn’t care about the neighbors banging on the walls, when he was fucking the girl of his dreams. “Yes, fuck! It belongs to you, only you!” Babbling as you couldn;t form a coherent thought, he slapped your tits, cursing as he felt your pussy pulse around his sensitive cock.

He could feel his balls tightening as he knew you were about to come, your moans only grew louder. “Come on, come on this cock.” Sobbing as you tried to slip from his grasp, the pleasure becoming borderline painful, but Hobie wasn’t going for that. “Come now or you don’t all.” He growled in your ear as you squirted across the sheets, your tired body trembling uncontrollably. He grunted, slamming into you, his lower half completely drenched, cursing as his warm cum coated your walls. Landing into the silk pillows face first as your arms went, Hobie plucked a plug from your nightstand, making sure you wouldn’t waste his cum. “Told you were mine, cut the bullshit labels and just be committed to one another.” He pulled you onto his chest as he drew circles onto your bare back. Hobie noticed a picture frame of you and Eric, smiling and he was kissing your cheek, webbing it to a random wall. He could finally be at ease, knowing that limp dick wasn’t going to be around for much longer.

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown smut

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lavenderlacedquill · 1 month

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will and the first time he admits he likes the reader!! maybe an evening at his house over a glass of whiskey? <3

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

I wrote a lengthy piece yesterday about Will confessing his feelings, I'll link it here to read if you'd like, but I absolutely adore the idea of visiting his house for the first time and sharing a drink!

✧˖°

Maybe you two have been very casually seeing each other for a few weeks. Dating is a strong word, and you two were not there yet, but the interest you shared for each other was not invisible in the slightest.

You’ve both been making time in your busy schedules to meet for lunches and dinners out, maybe a museum or two. As of late, the pair of you have been so exhausted due to a relentless bout of work that going out didn’t seem feasible. The energy for that sort of activity was nonexistent.

So, on a particularly late evening spent chatting together in his lecture room, you propose an alternative idea.

You’re sitting facing each other in two student desks, the ones in the farthest corner from Will’s own usual teaching spot. The pair of you are hidden in the shadows like young lovers desperate for any privacy. Any chance to be with one another.

Maybe the young and in love have it right, because it feels like you two are the only people for miles.

His glasses have come off, his hair slightly ruffled from a hand or two running through it, and the buttons on his sleeves have been undone. His usually stern expression has softened immensely, his dimples not afraid to make an appearance along with a smile.

“You know, I’ve never seen your house. I’ve heard it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

His head throws back slightly in a light laugh, “Yeah, Jack always likes to say that. I guess it does ring quite true”

Jokes get thrown around about Will being tucked away, much like you both are, and how he could easily disappear if he truly wanted.

“But I’m serious! I’ve never seen your house, and I am just dying to see the living space of Professor Will Graham.”

His eyes catch your own for a few fleeting seconds, a serious light appearing beneath them. He takes a peak at his watch, noting the late time, and pauses in thought.

“Do you really want to see it?” He asks in a tone laced with childish curiosity, not really sure what would be too interesting about his home.

But, in return, your hand falls atop the loosely closed fist he has on his desk, your smile evident in your voice when you say back, “It would be an honor.”

And with that, he swiftly gets up, picks up both of your coats, sweetly helps you into yours (being sure to button up every single button, because Winters in Virginia are cold) and begins his descent down the short stairs, your fingers interlaced tightly.

“Alright then, I don’t see why not.”

He was right. The small house, tucked in between vast yards of trees, on its own plot of land, really does feel like it’s in the middle of nowhere.

Will opens your car door, taking your hand and beginning to lead you to the front door of his home. He pauses just as you reach the few steps to his porch.

“I guess I should have asked you this before we left, but you don’t mind dogs, do you?”

While you had yet to explicitly talk about just how many dogs Will has, the topic has come up before. It doesn’t help that Jack routinely likes to poke fun at the professor by saying he runs a shelter. But, if anything, it warms your heart knowing this intimate part of him.

After positioning you out of the line of chaos, he lets the dogs run out into the yard, most too interested in a potty break to notice you quite yet, but the at ease appearance that took over Will was well worth it.

“You really love them, don’t you?”

The look he shoots your way is all the answer you need, but his whisper only swells your heart more.

“They give me purpose. Something to care for. And they show every ounce of love right back to me, even though they don’t have to.”

His hand finds yours again, leading you through the threshold into the warm, quaint space. You take it all in slowly, walking along the perimeters of the room as best as you can, dodging multiple dog beds and toys. He stays by the door, watching as you move through his space.

You trace a few of the fishing poles that line his wall, taking notice of his hats, vests, and tackle box that sit nearby. And the lures, they’re small works of craftsmanship and art. You take a seat in his desk chair, peering into his magnifying glass at his latest work in progress in pure awe.

“You make these? They’re so intricate.”

He’s surprised at your interest in them, leaving his watching spot to crouch over your shoulder, a hand resting in the small of your back.

“They’re for fly fishing. Gotta make them extra pretty so the fish will bite.” It’s refreshing to hear him so relaxed, willing to let his tone shift from stern and serious to something filled with light.

There wasn't a single worry. Not a one.

Your head turns to him, “They’re beautiful.”

You feel the tips of his fingers begin to trace your jaw, your face in a gentle hold, as your eyes meet.

It’s only now that you notice Will’s eyes aren’t just blue, no, they have speckles of gold floating in them. In the warm glow of desk lamp light, each speck seems to be swimming around like a koi fish amongst a large pond.

Your own hands come up from resting in your lap to settle loosely on his shoulders, almost connecting at the nape of his neck, where they begin to fiddle with the small curls residing there.

In this moment, with his entire soul seemingly lost in your gaze, Will is certain he has never been more at peace. Time isn’t a factor. Tiredness hasn’t begun to set in. The only thing that matters is the entire world he sees when he traces a finger over your lips, outlining their natural curvature with such care.

Your mind is swimming, only noting now that the man in front of you is closer than ever before. His curls tickle your forehead as small puffs of his breath spread across your skin. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and despite your hope that he wouldn’t notice, he most definitely did.

Will’s hand travels to the plain of your cheek, inching impossibly closer.

“Can I kiss you?”

You feel the words hit your lips more than you hear them, he’s so close you swear they reverberate through your entire body.

“Please.”

His lips are soft as they meet your own. Soft, plush, and gentle as you both begin to move with each other for a few moments, only breeching for air when needed. It’s not hot and heavy, but sweet and intimate. The kiss says so much more about what this night has been. About what it will mean when you both wake up in the morning.

It's the bark from one of Will’s dogs, who you will later learn is named Winston, that breaks you both apart. You share a breathy laugh before the man gets up to let his companions inside for the night.

After they have all settled into their beds, only after sniffing, jumping, and requiring attention from you and their owner, you stand to join Will.

A warmth settles over him as your arms wind around his neck, his own falling onto your waist in a gentle manner. You both sway to a nonexistent rhythm, mirroring each others soft grins.

“Would you like a drink?” The question drips from his mouth like honey, one of his hands finding the small patch of bare skin on your back just where your shirt has ridden up slightly. His touch purely electric.

Your lips meet his own in another kiss, one just as sweet and soft as the previous.

“That sounds lovely.”

✧˖°

oh my gosh this one was so much fun to write! I fall in love with this man more and more every single day.

My requests are currently open as well! Leave me all of your Will Graham thoughts and dreams, just please read my guidelines first :)

#my works #will graham x reader #nbc hannibal #hannibal x reader #will graham fanfiction #hannibal fanfiction #hugh dancy #hugh dancy fanfiction #hannibal lecter #x reader #imagine #fanfiction #will graham #request

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 2 months

Text

It was all yellow

A/N: The queen herself, @cas-kingdom, has come up with a wonderful idea for a new story and I have happily tried to spin some words around it. Here is the outcome. Benedict wants to paint a portrait of you, his little sister. It's not an easy task...

“You moved.”

“Did not!”

“Yes, you did!”

“Did not!!”

“Yes. You. Did! Your foot was much further to the right a mere half a minute ago.”

“Ugh!” Slumping in on yourself, you groaned in frustration and tried to inch the tip of your foot back to the spot you had shifted it from. “Better?”

At the hint of boredom in your voice, Benedict lowered his palette and looked up from his canvas. His raised brows and the lopsided smile clearly assembled to say ‘I told you so’.

“You know, I warned you that this would take a while, but you were adamant on going through with it.” Blue paint drippled on his forearm and you had to fight the urge to look around and search for a blue object he could possibly have decided to capture on his portrait of you – there was nothing remotely blue about you.

“Did I complain?” You sneered, your lips curling into a pout, when your brother started laughing meaningfully in response to your question. His glowing eyes widened and he nodded his head quite vigorously.

“Oh, you complain! You’ve been complaining for the past hour or so. Not verbally. But when I look into your eyes, I can see it. All the ways you’re currently considering to kill me – painfully.” Your brother had to chuckle at his own words, as he lowered his tools and his gaze back upon the painting he was working on. And you deflated with a loud sigh.

When your brother had presented to you his wish to paint a portrait of you, you had been overjoyed. You had seen his paintings of Eloise and Anthony, the detail of which had impressed you immensely. Benedict had such a talent for his art that you were sure to one day encounter at least one of his creations in a renowned museum. Perhaps, you realized with growing gloom, it would not be his momentary work in progress, judging by the way he kept furrowing his brows.

„You know,” he started carefully, confirming your concerns with the tone of his voice, “I‘m quite certain this would be more enjoyable for both of us, if you were actually having… fun!“ Benedict claimed, the last word dropping from his lips as if he were failing at spitting a cherry stone. You raised your brows at him, knowing full well that he knew how very humorous it was to be seated on a chair for several hours, with no permission to move even an inch.

„Can‘t you just paint me from memory?“ You groaned, obeying with grinding teeth when a tilt of his head reminded you to remain in your posture.

„If I say no,“ he answered slowly, as he squinted his eyes at you while carefully touching the brush back to the surface of his work-in-progress, „is it going to hurt your feelings?“

With a sigh you tried not to turn your head to look out of the window. „I suppose not.“

Benedict continued working in silence for a while, before he spoke again. „I would never get it all right from memory. In fact I am struggling already with you seated right here, in front of me.“ He sighed, almost sounding frustrated, his paintbrush sprinkling his hair when he moved his hand to grab his forehead. Your features softened in surprise. The urge to look for the window was gone, replaced by a deep wish to get a closer look at your brother‘s face. You‘d never noticed how different he looked when he was working. Less humorous, more serious, focused up to the very last movement of his paintbrush. It was fascinating, but not fascinating enough to turn you into a more cooperative model.

„In all earnesty, I can simply not get this right!!“

Surprised, you opened your mouth, when Benedict suddenly growled and stalked around his canvas to come to a halt a mere step away from you.

„Are your eyes green or grey … or yellow?“

“Yellow?!”

He looked awfully serious when he bent forward, his hands on his thighs, inspecting your face while almost touching the tip of your nose with his own. Still, there was a small speck of humour in the way he pursed his lips. You had jolted involuntarily at his approach and were now too proud give him what he wanted, quickly deciding to close your eyes and keep them firmly shut. Besides, you were rather in the mood to vex your brother after he had teased you incessantly for almost an hour about your unwillingness to remain still. If he couldn’t even remember your eye-colour from memory, you were clearly in the right to make this hard for him.

“Ohh,” you heard him murmur once your eyes had fluttered shut, his smirk audible in his voice, “Very well, then. I like a challenge!”

Your stomach dropped, when you realized that closing your eyes had a consequence: you could no longer see Benedict and knowing him, there was a 99% probability he would take advantage of that. Time to act indifferent. Which proved difficult enough, judging by the way you almost instantly started to bounce your leg up and down.

You could hear the shifting of your brother’s clothes when he was getting back to a standing position. He took a few steps around you, before stopping right behind you. His hands came down on your shoulders rather roughly, startling you enough to make you jolt violently – you had to suppress a panicked giggle. “Let’s start with your hair then!” He said lightly, mischief colouring every syllable. “I mean what would you say? Isn’t it rather reddish? With a few specks of grey?”

Well, that was blunt. With a gasp, you moved your arms to cross them before your chest. “If you think, this is vexing me, I must disappoint you!”

Benedict chuckled, taking your braid in one hand to tug at it lightly. “I’m serious. If I paint your portrait, we will have to remain true to the facts.”

Grumbling vaguely, you pulled your head away from him. “That’s a hard thing to do with a colourblind artist!”

Your brother gasped loudly, before incredulous laughter started to shake his form behind you. “Oh, that’s it! Will you open your eyes, or will I have to make you?”

A shudder chased down your body, when ten cold fingers sneaked under your chin and started tickling lightly over your neck. High-pitched titters broke free from you immediately, while you moved your shoulders up to your ears in an attempt to protect the sensitive skin.

“That’s not fair!!”

“You want to talk about what’s fair?” Benedict chuckled, his fingers doubling their efforts, producing inhuman squeals from your lungs. “I believe it would be very fair to not hinder the artist’s work, especially when they are in the process of painting a portrait of you!”

You doubled over when your brother’s fingers moved from your neck to your sides, beginning to tweak them incessantly, forcing you to burst out laughing harder. Contrary to Benedict’s motivation, his methods only made you close your eyes more decidedly than before. Instinctively, since your laughter and the ticklish sensations didn’t allow any other reaction.

“STOP!!” You squeaked, trying to get up and off the chair, but failing when your brother wrapped an arm around your middle to keep you where you were. “PLEASE, BEN!!!”

“Will you let me work?” He growled, his smirk audible in his voice and dangerously close to your neck. Quickly you tried to block his approaching face with your shoulder, but he managed to blow a mean raspberry under your ear before you were successful.

“NO!” You shrieked, cackling helplessly in his ticklish grip, your fingers curling into his forearm uselessly.

“You won’t??” He gasped and laughed at your demise when you made an undignified noise after realizing that your reaction to being raspberry-attacked had sounded like a response to his question. “Guess I’ll just keep tickling then,” He concluded with a shrug you could feel at your back where his chest was trapping you from behind. His teasing only made it harder to control your laughter, effectively deepening it and making it more endearing to your brother. You knew how much he loved it when you laughed – he loved everyone’s laugh and he was, at the Bridgerton house, a very successful and reliable source of mirth.

In that very moment, he was once again succeeding, as you could barely talk through your breathless laughter. You were inches away from tumbling off the chair – but your brother kept you just in the upright position it took to prevent you from falling; which didn’t mean that he ever stopped tickling you. Eventually you slammed your hand down on his to signal defeat and underlined it by shrieking out: “I WILL!! I WILL LET YOU WORK!!”

“Splendid!” The ticklish sensations were gone almost instantly and you were allowed to catch your breath and cover your sides with your elbows. With an unconvincing glare, you turned around on your chair to signal your brother how very annoying you thought him to be. His huge self-congratulating smile made the conviction behind your annoyance hard to maintain.

“Since when are artists allowed to torture their poor helpless portraits?” You pouted, turning back around to prevent him from seeing your slight amusement.

With the brightest grin, your brother settled down before you, his elbow propped up on your thigh and his head posed lazily on his palm. Those blue eyes were filled with so much love that there was no way you could have stayed mad at him for long.

“There are exceptions for artists who paint their little sisters.” He responded, giggling when you gave him a forceful slap on the head. The soft delighted expression on his features eventually got the better of you and you gave in to your own smile with a roll of your eyes.

“Have you now positively convinced yourself that my eyes are not yellow??” You laughed, your hands shooting towards him to playfully poke at his upper body in a small attempt at revenge. Joyful cackles shook him as he shifted away from you, stumbling back into a standing position and grabbing a hold of your wrists. He lifted one eyebrow in an offering of an armistice which you agreed to by lowering your hands. With a yet again softening gaze he tilted his head to the side.

“I see it now.” Shortly he moved his hand to your head to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. The affection in the gesture made your heart feel warm inside your chest. “Now your eyes are exactly as I wanted to paint them. Happy.”

Your little-sister-instinct made you wish to roll your eyes at that comment, but in the end you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you shook your head at your brother and shooed him back to his canvas with a movement of your hand. “Well, get going then, will you? Before my mood changes yet again!”

Obliging happily, Benedict strolled back to his working place, while you were trying to get into the position you’d been in for the past hour or so. With a smile you answered your brother’s quizzical look in your direction, his own lips mimicking your expression. A convivial silence fell over the two of you as he continued painting and suddenly it wasn’t all that hard anymore to sit still. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed when he suddenly took a step back from the portrait and raised his hands in a sign of defeat.

“No,” He simply said and shrugged, his head moving from right to left.

“No?” You answered in disbelief, your smile falling from your lips as you sat up straighter. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“No, (Y/N), I’m sorry, this will not work. We will have to start over entirely. You’re still free for five more hours, right?”

Speechlessly you just stared at him and his slowly forming grin. Then you bolted. He was wheezing with laughter as you chased him through the study in a temperamental outrage, until he managed to raise his hands and appease you with the words that he’d been joking and that he was, in fact, done with the painting.

When you saw it, your breath hitched. He hadn’t simply painted you in all detail, getting all the colours and proportions right and making it impossible not to recognize yourself. He had painted his little sister and the love he had for you spoke through every single brush of paint that was visible on the canvas.

“What do you think?” He asked, his voice sounding much more serious and much more fragile now than before.

With tears in your eyes you turned around, your smile lighting up his own face.

“I love you!” was all that you could say, before jumping into his arms and forcing him to catch you. He hummed into your hair as you smoothed your cheek against his chest. “Thank you!”

He didn’t have to answer “I love you”. He’d poured that declaration into his painting already.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #tickling #bridgerton tickling #y/n bridgerton #bridgerton y/n #bridgerton siblings #bridgerton little sister #little sister imagine #reader insert bridgerton #benedict bridgerton reader insert

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