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mangoisms · 1 year

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be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking ━ miyuki kazuya The unspoken rule, for cases like yours, is to encourage your living partner to move on with the one dream that you’re allowed to appear in. And you did that. You did the teary goodbye that you were so ruthlessly exempt from when you died in that car accident. But what do you do when they actually move on and eventually join the afterlife with their partner? or, with the help of Miyuki Kazuya, you learn that just because you're dead, you're not exempt from moving on and learning to be happy again.

━ completed

━ wc: 8k

━ warnings: mentions of death but it's an afterlife au, so

━ you can also read this on ao3

Find someone else. Isn’t that the punchline?

It’s the same joke (and unofficial rule) you find yourself skulking about in this bar — the same bar you’ve been coming to for the last month and a half. It’s empty, thank god, because it’s the middle of the afternoon and you’re not in the mood for some boring conversation with a stranger about why you look so mopey.

You should be happy that your partner found someone else.

Because, to you, it had been a given.

Of course you didn’t want your partner, still living, barely twenty-six, to live the rest of their life mourning you. You wanted them to find someone else.

It’s the morally correct thing to do and hey, that’s why you were here, right?

A life of morally correct decisions landed you in this pleasant afterlife rather than the not-so-pleasant one.

So, you should be happy that, after about two years in the living world (only two months for you, because time passes differently here), your partner has finally moved on and found someone else.

But what now?

What happens when your ex and their new partner finally pass on here?

What are you supposed to do?

The unspoken rule, for cases like yours, is to encourage your living partner to move on, making use of the one dream of theirs that you’re allowed to appear in. And you did that. You did the teary goodbye that you were so ruthlessly exempt from when you died in that car accident.

But what do you do when they actually move on and eventually join the afterlife with their partner?

Seriously, is there a handbook or manual on this? Can you wikipedia it? What to do when I die and leave my partner behind and they actually move on like I told them to?

You’re obviously not going to get back together. So, where does that leave you?

You rub your forehead.

The bartender wordlessly pours you another glass and you nod your thanks, mechanically taking a sip.

You have to suppress a deep sigh when someone slides into the stool beside yours.

The entire bar is open. You are seated at a lone corner, near the hall to the bathrooms, so honestly, this guy could’ve picked any other seat.

Ugh.

You can feel your mood souring further.

The bartender drifts back to you.

“What can I get you?” He asks the stranger.

The stranger gives his order and you look away from his direction pointedly, watching the condensation sliding down the glass, creating a wet ring on the small napkin underneath it.

You feel strangely uncomfortable.

The message is clear. This guy is interested in you — hello, the rows of available stools on the bar and he sat next to you — but wow, the thought of flirting with someone else makes your skin crawl.

Because to you, it’d only been two months ago that you were alive, living with your partner, savoring the domesticity of your life. And while they may have moved on already because of this plane of dimension’s horrible passage of time, you haven’t.

Not yet.

No use in beating around the bush, you think, sighing and finally lifting your eyes.

“So, I was —”

“Do you mind —“

You both halt. He laughs nervously as red forms on his cheeks.

“Go ahead,” he says.

You smile politely. “Right. No offense, seriously, but do . . . you mind moving somewhere else? I kind of want to be alone right now.”

The guy blanks, obviously not expecting that. “Oh. Um. Uh. S-Sure. Er, could I give you my number —”

You smile stiffly. “I’d rather not, honestly.”

He deflates. “But —”

“Hey.”

The bartender sets down the stranger’s order in front of him, the thump of the glass on the counter strangely loud in this empty bar, even with the low jazz playing overhead.

He’s frowning. “They obviously don’t want to be bothered. Move along. We’re not looking for trouble.”

“Neither am I,” the guy mutters mulishly.

“It seems like you are. They’re visibly uncomfortable, clearly not in the mood to flirt, and they’ve asked you to move and you’re still trying to get their number. Back off, man. Seriously.”

You stare at the bartender. He’s a tall, handsome man with messy brown hair, tawny brown skin, and golden eyes, hidden behind a pair of nondescript black frames.

He’d also been working the bar for the past month and a half, at the times you came by and sulked for a few hours. You didn’t know his name, just that he was, objectively speaking, handsome and rather popular with the patrons for his biting humor and excellent mixing skills.

He had never asked about your name or your problem or anything like that.

But you think, in those times when the bar emptied out except for you two and the bouncers by the entrance, when he’d lean against the counter and crack open a book on baseball strategy, that his silence was more fortitudinous than awkward.

That could always be wishful thinking of your part, though.

And now — now he has no obligation to help you. So, you assume he’s doing this to avoid trouble rather than genuine kindness.

The guy mutters a couple things scornfully under his breath and clambers off the seat, knocking over the glass and throwing down the money before stalking off.

That was kind of dramatic, you think with a grimace, watching as the bartender calmly picks up the money and stows it away in a cash register.

He comes back to the counter and picks up the glass, setting it in a sink, then starts wiping up the mess.

You bite your lip. I have to say something, you think. It’d be rude not to.

“Thanks for that,” you end up saying. It sounds half-hearted but you mean it.

The bartender shrugs. “No problem. Gotta keep this bar drama-free.”

You still feel bad. “I . . . Still. I don’t want to inadvertently be the cause of you losing some customers.”

It’s not like bankruptcy is a thing here. All service workers like the bartender are given extra bonuses for doing their jobs — on top of the monthly checks that each person gets. These institutions don’t belong to one particular person or company. No, they belong to the higher ups, the primordial beings in charge of the afterlife, and they have bigger worries than making money.

He laughs. “This is the only bar in the quad. He’ll be back.”

That’s true, but . . .

“I don’t want to cause you trouble,” you mumble under your breath.

He tosses aside the wet towel and picks up another, drying off the counter before throwing it over his shoulder and grinning at you.

“Relax. It’s fine. Honestly, I didn’t mind. And if he wants to cause trouble with some of his friends later, he can take it up with those guys.” He nods behind you and you look over your shoulder, seeing the two, hulking bouncers stationed by the entrance, talking amongst themselves.

“Besides,” the bartender continues. “It seems like you don’t need a distraction right now.” He takes out another glass and fills it with water. “Wallowing in self-pity usually demands some privacy.”

“Thanks,” you say sarcastically. “I really appreciate it.”

He winks. “You’re welcome.”

You scoff quietly, pushing away the alcoholic drink in favor of the cool water. Your chest feels warm and fuzzy, only mildly buzzed, but it’ll be a long walk back to your house and you don’t want to be inebriated and vulnerable.

Something like curiosity burrows underneath your skin as you watch the bartender from the corner of your eye. He talks to the other patrons at the bar as he serves them.

You slum it there for another few hours, sobering up, but soon, it starts to get busy and that’s when you take your leave, sliding off the stool and picking up your coat. You pretend not to notice the way the bartender disappears into the back and two women come to replace him.

You step outside. The air is nippy, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s never uncomfortable.

Nighttime has fallen and the sky is starless and dark.

There’s a lot of similarities between here and the living world, but there’s more differences.

Because there are no countries or real affiliations, quads stand as centers of living, dependent on the person. Some quads are like cities, with hundreds of thousands of other people, and even more bars, restaurants, stores, and businesses. Others are like towns, homey and local. This quad is like that.

You like the quiet of it; it’s small enough that you can travel everywhere by foot. It’s also designed so that you never have to leave. No reason to go into other quads.

You can, of course, if you want. There are no rules or restrictions here on what you can and can’t do. The only rule is to be civil and keep peace.

You start your trek to your home — your own slice of heaven, a place that is perfect for you (for some, it’s a ranch, for others, it’s an ultra-modern apartment).

Your eyes stay on the sky more than anything, scanning the empty oblivion.

“You’ll trip if you keep walking like that,” a voice calls from behind you.

You stop and turn. The bartender is a few paces behind you, changed from the formal shoes, slacks, and button-up into a pair of ratty Converse, jeans, a t-shirt, and a light jacket.

It fits him.

You frown. “Are you following me?”

“All the housing for this quad is in this direction,” he says and you flush, because that’s true, you’d forgotten yourself.

“Right, well,” you clear your throat noisily. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I’m a good person,” he replies easily, closing the distance and coming to stand beside you. “But seriously, what is it you see that’s so interesting?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you don’t see it?”

“Like practically everything else here, it’s tailored to you specifically,” he says, lips quirked, and you flush again.

What’s with me today? You think. I’ve been here for two months, I know all this stuff by now.

“Well, what do you see?” You turn the question back on him.

He lifts his eyes to the sky. It’s dark and starless to you but whatever he sees makes his face soften. Your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a strange, but familiar, feeling that has guilt immediately curling in your stomach. You try to shut it down.

“I see the Milky Way,” he says. “Millions of stars.”

You wonder what that must be like. “Sounds nice.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well. Never saw it much when I was alive since I lived in a big city. Only saw it once on a trip out to the country.”

“Oh,” you say intelligently.

“And you?” He asks.

You chew the inside of your cheek.

“I see . . . nothing. It’s. . . a starless sky to me.” You lift your eyes again. “It’s not really home . . .” you shrug awkwardly. “I dunno. That’s just what I see.”

“Different for everyone. No harm in that,” he says, strangely wise.

You're blurting out your name before you can think of what you’re doing.

He snickers. “Miyuki.” He gives you an appraising look. “Seems like you’re in a better mood.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I guess. I’m just . . . It’s nothing much.”

“You should talk to someone,” he says and it sounds like he means it.

“What, like you?” You try not to sound so incredulous but he catches it and laughs anyway.

“I can’t promise I’d care, to be honest. But if you’re facing some kind of dilemma that has to do with living loved ones, you’re probably not alone.”

You bite your lip. You’re getting kind of cold now, just standing there in the middle of the street, gentle winds tickling your cheeks.

He’s strangely honest.

Probably too honest than socially acceptable.

His name is Japanese and you’d wager that he’s speaking Japanese, too, but to you, his mouth is shaping the words in your native language and it sounds the same in your ears (another thing about the afterlife; no language barriers).

Doesn’t Japan have really stringent social hierarchies?

But if he’s so honest . . . Could he help?

You just don’t know what to do.

You feel bad that your partner moved on. You shouldn’t.

Right?

“If you keep thinking so hard, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

You focus on Miyuki. “Could I ask you for advice?”

He blinks. “Eh?”

“I know you said you wouldn’t necessarily care,” you sigh, taking a few steps to the side and sitting down on the curb. You stare at the street. The concrete is cool underneath you, seeping through the thin material of your jeans. “But I think you’d be honest. And I need that more than I need comfort.”

“Weren’t you the one also a little bit dubious about that?” He asks, but sits down beside you on the curb anyway.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “And I know we know nothing about each other but maybe that’s for the best.”

“Alright,” he says slowly. “Go ahead, I guess.”

He sounds awkward, suddenly, and you’re a little amused. He can certainly run his mouth but he gets choked up here. Of course.

You tell him, then, about how you did your duty, took the opportunity to visit your partner’s dream and made them promise to find someone else, something that makes them happy, and they finally did that, and you feel — mean and resentful and sad and you know you shouldn’t, you should be happy, because they did what you wanted, hadn’t they?

And maybe, you add to yourself, you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be enjoying the pleasures of the afterlife, because you’re being selfish and it’s not right. Is it?

You halt in your words and close your eyes, pressing your forehead to your knees.

“I feel like such a bad person for feeling like that,” you whisper. “Is it bad that I secretly wanted for them to just . . . not settle down? So we could be together when they finally died and came here?”

Miyuki remains silent for a couple minutes and you finally turn to look at him.

He’s gazing at the sky, thoughtful. You hold your tongue.

Two women pass you, talking and laughing amongst themselves as they head home for the night.

“That’s the thing they don’t tell you about,” he eventually says quietly and you look at him instinctively. “The ‘right thing’ to do is tell the loved ones you leave behind to move on and find happiness again. Like it’s an obligation for us to be selfless. Maybe it is. My moral compass has never exactly worked well. But they never tell you how to get over them when they do move on.

“Or what to do when your partner finally crosses over and they’re still in love with someone else.” He finally looks at you, solemn. “Just because we’re dead doesn’t mean we don’t feel. We feel what we feel. We’re still human.”

He talks about this like he’s experienced it. You wonder if he has, but you bury that curiosity. There’s no need for it.

You sigh. “Yeah, that’s really poetic and all, but you didn’t exactly answer my question. Am I a bad person for wishing those things?”

He rolls his eyes. “Sheesh. What’s gonna satisfy you? No, you’re not. Shit happens. And like I just said —“he sends you a look and you have to suppress a smile “— we feel what we feel. Nothing wrong with that. My best piece of advice?” He stands and you have to almost crane your neck to look up at him. “Start preparing yourself for the worst possible outcome. They settle down. Get married. And pass into the afterlife still in love with that person, not you.”

It hurts to hear. But a part of you knows he’s right.

You set your chin on your knees and close your eyes, throat feeling thick suddenly.

You’ve had flashes of your partner and their new life in your dreams. They’re happy.

And . . . and you hope it continues.

Your feelings will shrink with time. You know that.

You just have to grin and bear it now.

You hear the shifting of gravel and rocks underfoot and tense as a hand tentatively touches your head. It’s warm and gentle and —

Comforting.

Your heart does a strange jump.

You open your eyes and look up at Miyuki.

“There’s nothing wrong with you moving on, too,” he says quietly and the air in your lungs rattles, squeezing your throat.

He takes his hand away and turns. “See you around.”

You watch him leave.

You stop going to the bar, because you have no business there anymore.

You’re going to learn to live with this fate.

The unfortunate side effect of that, though, is that you no longer see Miyuki.

And strangely enough, you find yourself missing his presence.

You try not to think about it too hard.

Moving on is . . . both hard and easy.

Some days, you think that this will be the day you leap that final hurdle, get over your ex and move on with your life here, but others, you don’t think the effort is worth anything.

It doesn’t help that your dreams are dominated by your ex and their new life.

Some nights, you just stay up and go to your backyard and lay down on the grass, staring up at the empty night sky.

Those times, you seriously consider reincarnation.

Your memories are wiped and you’re sent back to the living world to be reborn as someone else for another try at life.

But it’s a risky gamble, because you could end up at any point in history, as any person.

So, it’s nothing more than wishful thinking.

For now.

You do spend your time at the library in the central square, browsing the massive selection. You try to avoid glancing at the bar a few doors down as you make your walk there.

The library helps take your mind off things. For a little while.

In the living world, there are limitations to knowledge. Things that they don’t know for certain. Here, you’re given the privilege of knowing. You can unlock the secrets of the universe with little difficulty, only a short browse through the nonfiction section on cosmology and astronomy.

You almost feel pity for those in the living world, running around in circles trying to figure out this and that, when the answers to all life’s questions lay in your hands here.

You spend enough time at the library for the librarian to give you a part-time job. It’s hardly arduous. You just put returned books back into their original places.

You’re in the middle of returning some books in the how-to section when you run into Miyuki.

Literally.

He manages to step away before you can ram the cart into his ankles and you grimace.

“Sorry.”

“Wow,” he says. “Our first time seeing each other in almost two weeks and you almost run me over.”

You don’t take the bait, instead latching onto another piece of information he’d, probably, accidentally revealed.

“You’ve been counting?”

He plays dumb. “No. Of course not. What makes you say that?”

You find yourself smiling. “Was there something you were looking for, Miyuki?”

He clears his throat and straightens. “Cookbooks. Trying to spice it up at home. I think I’m using too many brain cells coming up with drinks for the bar.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

But you park the cart to the side and help him out, locating the cookbooks. It’s a wide assortment, different books on different cultures, and he spends an impressive amount of time flipping through them, lips pursed, eyes narrowed as he takes in the information.

You putter around for a minute before going back to the cart, setting your hands on the bar and preparing to push it.

Miyuki quickly and quietly calls out your name.

You turn.

He has a book in his hands and he runs his fingers absently over the front.

You frown. Is he nervous?

“Yeah?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I was wondering . . . I have an extra ticket to a timeshow on the history of the universe this Saturday. My friend was supposed to go with me but he couldn’t go. Had to do something for his husband. Would you, ah, want to go? To the show? It’d just be a waste of money if I didn’t have someone else use it.”

He’s making excuses. Saving face.

But rather than finding it silly and annoying, you’re. . . endeared.

You smile. “Sure. That sounds like fun. What time?”

“Six. We can meet in front of the theater at five-forty-five?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. See you, then.” You flash him one last smile and turn around, pushing the cart to the next section.

Your heart is drumming away in your chest.

You’re. . . excited.

Settling into the afterlife had been hard. Because you’d been ripped away from the only life you’d known in the living world.

You had no one here, your parents still kicking, and there weren’t any grandparents or previously dead relatives waiting for you on the other side.

No, just a courier patiently telling you that you were dead and you were now in the afterlife.

It’s not like making friends is easy, either.

Most people keep to themselves. Routine is comfort here.

So, you tell yourself that the fluttering in your stomach and the rapid pace of your pulse is because, for better or for worse, Miyuki is your friend.

(And you ignore the disappointment that wells up within you at that title.)

The theater functions like it does in the living world, except they also have time shows.

Shows that document the passage of time. Topics vary, from the history of the universe, like the Big Bang and the formation of the Milky Way and the solar system, to life on earth, from prehistoric time, to the present.

Today’s show is the history of the universe, starting, naturally, with the Big Bang.

You’re a little tired, after another sleepless night, but seeing Miyuki standing at the entrance makes your heart race. You push down the feeling.

You and Miyuki take your seats, in the middle of the rows of the theater. It’s not very busy, but there’s still people there. You steal some of the popcorn from the bucket sitting on his lap.

“So, who’s your friend?” You ask, taking a drink of your water bottle.

He raises an eyebrow. “Hallucinating? Not a good look on you.”

You roll your eyes. “I mean the friend who canceled on you last minute. I was under the pretense you didn’t have any friends.”

He snickers. “I’m not a lonely, poor soul like you, you know. Anyway. My friend, Yoichi. We live on the same street.”

“That’s nice,” you say, earnest.

“He’s. . . alright.” Miyuki’s words are halting and jagged and it makes you curious as to why that is.

But the lights are dimming rapidly, signaling the start of the show, and you wipe your fingers on a napkin, turning your attention to the screen. You tense as the theater is plunged into darkness and feel Miyuki shift, settling his arm on the armrest separating your seats.

You have half a mind to elbow him out of your space before there’s a booming explosion, deafening and sudden enough to make you jump. Your fingers clamp onto Miyuki’s wrist instinctively, feeling the soft, warm skin underneath your fingertips.

The screen bursts to life, a brilliant, bright ball of light.

You jump again as rough fingers touch the back of your hand. And you realize you still haven’t let him go.

An apology is already on your lips when he applies a firmer pressure and murmurs, “It’s fine. These guys just like their theatrics.”

You falter, looking at him and seeing the bright colors of the screen reflecting off his glasses, but his eyes are on you, comforting gold.

A peculiar kind of heat spreads underneath the surface of your skin and you nod, embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

He taps a finger on the knuckle of your index finger. “Nothing to apologize for, dummy.”

You suppress the urge to apologize again and reluctantly remove your fingers from his wrist.

You fold your hands in your lap and ignore the way the skin on the back of your skin tingles pleasantly.

He’s right about the show. They do like their theatrics.

It’s all dramatic explosions and flashes of lights, running through the last 14 billion years of the universe’s existence in an easy hour, keeping it interesting enough for those who don’t know a thing about these concepts.

Miyuki passes the bucket of popcorn to you midway through and by the end of the show, your face is hot from the amount of times your hand has brushed his while reaching for popcorn.

It’s a little silly.

You’re not some kind of middle schooler interacting with their crush.

There’s no logical reason to be acting like that.

Yet you find yourself relieved as he tosses the bucket in the trash outside the theater, the air cooler here. You two converse as you leave the theater. Nighttime has settled in once again and the yellow light of the streetlamps illuminate the square.

Before you can get too distracted, Miyuki tugs on your shirt and you glance at him.

He tilts his head to the ice cream parlor next door. “Dessert? You’ll have to pay, though. I think that’s only fair.”

You marvel at his ability to make generous suggestions and still sound remarkably rude. It would irritate you, usually, but he manages to make it just sound like that’s how he is.

No malicious intent. Just a fact of nature.

“Sure,” you agree. “Sounds fine to me.”

The parlor is cold upon entering, a quiet humming in the background, bright lights illuminating the inside. The employee smiles politely.

You peer at the flavors, giving your order to the employee who starts working on it immediately. Miyuki follows suit after you’ve been handed a small cup with the ice cream.

“I almost would’ve thought you don’t like sweet things,” you comment offhandedly as you hand over the proper amount of money to the employee when Miyuki’s also been given his own cup.

“Green tea isn’t that sweet,” he says. “But sweet stuff has grown on me in the past years.”

“Really?” You both step back out of the ice cream parlor and cross the street to the park in the center of the square. He takes a seat on a bench and you sit beside him, careful to leave a reasonable amount of space between you two.

He nods. “Sure. Couldn’t stand it initially but,” he shrugs. “I don’t mind as much now.”

You want to ask for more information — that curiosity that had burrowed its way underneath your skin has spread, tugging at your chest impatiently — but you get the feeling that he’s a private person, so, you keep your mouth shut and eat your ice cream.

“How’s moving on working out for you?” He asks after a couple minutes of comfortable silence.

You remove your eyes from the sky and take the spoon out of your mouth.

You wouldn’t have taken him for a smalltalk kind of person and your intuition tells you that’s not it. It’s hard to get a proper look at him because he’s chosen a shaded area away from the lamps but his head’s tilted and somehow, someway, you can tell that he’s genuinely curious.

You feel pleased with your conclusion.

He’s a hard person to get a read on, almost impossible, really, but he’s either loosening his guard willingly or forgetting himself for the moment.

You get the feeling he’s doing it willfully.

It makes your heart race, for a reason unbeknownst to you.

“It’s a . . . process,” you say quietly. “Some days are easier than others. I think it’s hard, sometimes, because I’m so alone, you know? And the dreams don’t help at all. Some nights, I don’t sleep at all because of it.”

You glumly scoop some ice cream into your mouth. It’s melting from the heat from your palm, condensation forming on the sides of the cup, sliding down onto your hand.

“But it’s fine,” you continue when he remains silent. “I’m getting there. It’s almost been three months. My . . . ex is happy. Knowing that both hurts and helps. Does that make sense?”

He finally nods. “It does.”

You slip into another comfortable silence, finishing off the ice cream. You both toss your cups away then step back onto the street, heading to housing once again.

“This was fun,” you say softly. “Thanks for inviting me, Miyuki.”

He shrugs. “Told you. Would’ve been a waste not to use the other ticket.”

Certainly.

But he didn’t have to suggest ice cream, prolonging your time together.

He didn’t have to do that.

And that, you think, speaks volumes.

You stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “I have a question.”

“Alright,” he says, sounding both wary and curious.

“It’s kind of stupid,” you admit.

“I’ll be the judge of that. What is it?”

You bite at the inside of your cheek and move your eyes ahead of you, buildings fading into rolling hills of green. You’ll be entering the housing of this quad soon enough and you almost don’t want to say goodbye.

You’ve missed this. Companionship. Someone to talk to.

But there’s something on your mind, too.

“Why . . . I don’t know. It seems like you could be friends with anyone. And you didn’t have to help me out all those weeks ago, with my problem. So . . . why?”

You stare at the ground, almost afraid of his answer.

He hums quietly, though, and that’s better than a tense silence as he mulls over his answer. He’s not thrown off.

You risk a glance at him and he’s staring at the sky.

And not for the first time, certainly not the last, either, you wish you could see what he sees.

“Well,” he says eventually. “You came in for a solid, what, almost two months? Every other day, in the middle of the afternoon. Which would be incredibly worrying in any other situation, but you only actually ever drank on occasion. When things got bad, I assume —” he sends you a long look there and you look away “— but beside from that, it was a little impossible not to notice. You notice the regulars at the library, right?”

You nod and for some reason, you find his answer a little disappointing.

He shrugs. “See? Impossible to not notice. Honestly, you kind of reminded me of an old person.”

“What?”

He laughs loudly at your affronted tone. “Old people usually come to bars in the middle of the day, don’t they? Because it’s chill. More lowkey. The party scene isn’t their thing. That’s you.” He pokes your cheek and you swat his hand away.

“Stop that. That’s so embarrassing.”

He laughs again. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Old people are sensible, aren’t they? Most of ’em. Don’t get all worked up. I was just giving you my honest answer, anyway.”

You sigh. “Right. But at any point, you never pitied me? That sounds hard to believe.”

He waves you off lazily. “I didn’t care that much.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He grins at you and you feel something warm and fuzzy cocoon behind your breastbone, radiating a familiar heat that has you suppressing a smile of your own, refusing to give him that satisfaction.

“Come on, I kind of care now! That has to be worth something.”

“Kind of,” you repeat dryly.

“You’re a difficult person to please,” he says, sighing melodramatically.

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” you reply, laughing quietly, looking away. You’re well into the housing units now, passing street after street.

“Oh, wait.” You hear the gravel crunch underneath his shoes as he comes to a stop. You look at him and he’s gazing at the street signs with a pensive expression. “Oops. Passed my street.”

Disappointment curls in your stomach but you try to smother it.

“Well, I’ll see you around —”

“I’ll walk you home,” he says and you blink.

“You don’t have to.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know. But we’ve already passed my street. Might as well.”

Again. Excuses.

You smile softly. “I’d appreciate that.”

He looks away. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, let’s go. I’m getting cold.”

He walks you all the way home.

Don’t be a stranger, he tells you when you arrive at your house, and he gives you his number. You try not to act so surprised and he adds, If you’re ever up and you can’t sleep, call me. I’m usually up, too.

And you know it’s not wishful thinking to spot the red on his cheeks.

Time passes. Months melt together until the quad is easing into something like summer, the days warm and mild and the nights cool and temperate.

You do as Miyuki says.

You drop into the bar on occasion and he’ll give you a drink on the house — “Because I’m a nice person” — and he’ll regale you with tales that he gets from his coworkers about the nighttime crowd and the shenanigans they get up to. You tell him about the odd people that come in and out of the library.

He’ll visit the library, too, to return the books he’s checked out. Usually, he’ll hunt you down and demand your help in finding him adequate books on cooking, and baseball strategy.

You find out two things from it.

He likes to cook and he’s incredibly proud of his abilities — it’s not a pompous kind of pride, an over-the-top one that’s usually befitting for him, but a genuine pride, carved into the way he smiles and tells you about how he took charge of the kitchen at only eleven-years-old in the living world and singlehandedly took care of his father with it.

And he was a professional baseball player in the living world, in Japan. You ask him why he never tried to move into a bigger quad and join a baseball team — because they certainly have them.

He simply says he’s run out of energy to play, but he could never tire of the logistics of the game.

On those visits, he’ll shadow you, once he’s found his books, as you put books away, and asks you questions about your old life.

It’s a comforting routine that you two have settled into.

And you think about your ex less and less.

You still see them in your dreams, aging as the years — months, for you — go by. And they get married, they settle down, they find peace.

You think you’re close to doing that, too.

Miyuki calls you one night.

You never ended up taking his offer to call him when you couldn’t sleep, mostly because, with the more time you spent with him, the easier it was to sleep and live with the dreams of your ex and their new life.

That doesn’t mean that he couldn’t use the opportunity with you, though.

You’re up, anyway, your mind not quite ready to go to bed yet, outside in your backyard, gazing at the black sky, listening to the cicadas buzzing in the night.

You answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he says and he sounds unsure. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” you reply. “What’s up?”

“You know how I gave you that advice a couple months ago? About your ex?”

You sit up and stare at the brown fence that lines the end of your property. “Yeah,” you say, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“Maybe you’d already guessed it but . . . I was in a similar situation. I died in some stupid plane crash and I left him there. His — it’s. . . that Yoichi I was telling you about.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Go on.”

“So, I did the thing. You know. Told him to move on and shit. He did, eventually. Found another guy. Someone we used to go to high school with. Sucked, but it was fine. Then,” he sighs. “Then, they died. Stupid bus accident. They were on the same pro team. And they came here.”

Oh, no.

“Miyuki,” you say softly. “How long ago —?”

“I died nine months ago. Took Yoichi two years to move on — but that was only two months here. Then they died a year after that. A month here.”

You draw your knees to your chest, feeling the cool grass underneath your bare feet.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know why he called you, not really, maybe he had a bad dream, maybe he’s too stuck in his head and he needs to talk, but you do know you feel bad.

Because Miyuki had been in the same situation as you a couple months ago.

But what was worse was that he had to see his ex and their new partner soon.

You — you would hopefully not see your ex and their partner for many years.

But Miyuki . . .

“What are you apologizing for, dummy?” He asks wearily. “Nothing to say sorry for. Not your fault, is it?”

“It . . . just sucks.”

He snorts. “No kidding. Look, that wasn’t. . .” he trails off awkwardly, then clears his throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for this to get all heavy and stuff. I’m pretty much over it — over him. He and I are friends or whatever. Anyways. I was just trying to give you some background.”

You’re a little more confused now.

“Alright . . . For what, exactly?”

“My parents — my mom, really — have been hounding me to start seeing other people. And I’m having them over for dinner next week Friday. I’m not — asking you to pretend to be anything. But if they see you — if she sees you, it’ll be enough to get her off my back for a little while. I know it’s a lot but I can make it up to you. Free drinks for life at the bar?”

You wrinkle your nose. “No, thanks. But I’ll help you out. I’m kinda interested to see what your parents will be like, anyway.”

“Why?”

You sprawl over the grass once again, staring up at the sky.

“I dunno. You’re a mysterious guy, Miyuki. Getting a look at your parents might lessen some of that mystery.”

Your mistake, you belatedly realize, is that you’re getting tired now. And by natural consequence, your filter is loose.

It makes you unbearably honest.

Heat rises to your face. He’s quiet for a minute, then he laughs, and it sounds painfully fond.

Those warm undertones make your chest tight.

“Is that so? I don’t mean to be. Not to you, anyhow.”

Not to you, you mouth to yourself.

You think that means something.

But your brain is too tired to decipher its meaning.

You yawn.

“I should let you go. Have you been getting sleep? You know, I told you that you could call me if you’re staying up.”

You push yourself off the ground, patting the grass clippings off your clothes as you amble to the glass doors, stepping into the warmth of your home.

“That wasn’t it. I just wasn’t ready for bed yet,” you tell him as you go to your bedroom, collapsing unceremoniously onto the bed. “What about you?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Eh, you know. Just thinking. Anyways. I’ll let you go. Get some rest.”

“Mmm, you, too, Miyuki.”

He doesn’t hang up and a sleepy frown forms on your lips.

“I think . . . if you’ll be coming by on Friday, you’ll have to call me Kazuya.”

Oh.

You’re suddenly awake, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. “Oh. Uh. Are you sure?”

“You know me. Wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t want you to.”

Is this something you’re doing to keep a part or because you want me to? What’s the truth here, Miyuki?

You bite your tongue. “If you’re sure.”

“Say it,” he says in a sing-song voice. Once again taking too much pleasure in throwing your world off its axis.

Conniving jerk, you think, not without affection.

You sigh deeply, face warm. “Goodnight, Kazuya. Get some sleep.”

“You, too,” he responds cheerfully, maybe too loud since it’s three in the morning, and the call ends with a click.

You stare at the ceiling.

He’s so confusing.

You meet Kazuya’s ex the same day you’re supposed to have dinner with his parents.

His ex and another man are standing outside of Kazuya’s house, conversing with him.

You falter on the sidewalk, unsure if you should interrupt them, but his ex spots you and switches the attention to you.

Kazuya waves you over. “Come on. I want you to meet Yoichi and Eijun.”

Looks like he really is over it, you think to yourself, only a little bit envious.

You’re getting there. Really.

That warm, fuzzy feeling that’s been building a nest behind your breastbone has gotten out of hand, seizing your lungs and heart, giving those functions over to Kazuya for him to control.

You don’t know if he feels anything.

You think he does. Maybe. But he’s so difficult to get a read on, despite whatever he likes to say about letting you know what he’s thinking.

Regardless, it’s really not something for you to ruminate on when you’re about to meet his ex and his husband.

You walk up the path to the front door, where they’re all standing, and Kazuya touches your back as he introduces you to the two.

His ex is Kuramochi Yoichi, a scary-looking guy with dark brown hair, tan skin, and brown eyes, and his ex’s husband is Kuramochi Eijun, a friendlier guy with light brown skin, messy black hair, and light brown eyes that almost border on amber.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Eijun beams. “You’ve made Miyuki Kazuya just a little more bearable!”

Yoichi laughs loudly as Kazuya reaches out to cuff the back of his head, making him squawk indignantly.

“What? It’s true!”

“Shut up, dummy. Anyways, we should get inside, so you two can —“he makes a shooing motion and you muffle your laugh.

Yoichi scoffs and punches his shoulder. “Hey, you’re just trying to get out of us embarrassing you, but this won’t be the end of it, you should come over for dinner one of these days. I make a mean steak.”

Kazuya puts his hands on his hips, looking motherly, suddenly, as he squints at Yoichi. “Now, that’s not necessary —“

“I’m sure Miyuki Kazuya embarrasses himself enough on his own!”

“Exactly — wait, no —“

You smile. “Actually, if it’s alright with you —“you look at Kazuya and he falls silent, meeting your eyes “— I think that’d be great.”

“Yeah, fine, alright,” he relents and you know he doesn’t really mind. “Seriously, you two, go, before my parents get here and invite you two over. I only made enough for four people.”

“Excuses!” Eijun blusters but lets Yoichi tug him away, anyway. They bid you goodbye and you watch as they disappear into the house across from Kazuya’s.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you say, more to yourself than him.

But he scoffs and shakes his head. “Honestly. No idea what I saw in Yoichi, I tell you . . .”

Before you can reply, a car turns down the street, and you know it’s likely his parents because there’s very little people in this quad that own cars. That means they came from another quad, probably one with a city.

The car pulls up to the curb and you hear its engine shut off.

Your heart jumps to your throat and you swallow nervously.

“Ready for this?”

You look at Kazuya, meeting his eyes, gold like the setting sun, and feel his hand slip into yours.

Pretense, you remind yourself, though you dimly recall that he said you wouldn’t have to necessarily put on a show, so he’s taking your hand on his own accord.

You don’t think too hard about it, enjoying the roughness of his calloused palm against yours, and watching as a man and woman step out of the car.

He squeezes your hand questioningly.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Ready.”

By the end of the night, his parents love you.

They’re easy to get along with; his father is quiet, though Kazuya takes after him most in terms of appearance. Still, his quiet, calm temperament goes well with the brighter personality of his mother, who reminds you distinctly of Eijun, except with the ability to control the volume of her voice and carrying a sharper perception that makes you only a little nervous.

You figure that’s where Kazuya gets his from, too.

You learn that his mother had been in the afterlife the longest, passing from cancer when Kazuya was younger, and then his father had passed a couple years before he did.

You think that despite it all, despite Kazuya dying at such a young age and having to handle Yoichi and Eijun again before he got over them, it’s nice that he had his parents for him.

They leave at nine-thirty after helping clean up and you and Kazuya walk them back to their car, where goodbyes are exchanged.

“You better walk them home,” his mother says to Kazuya, giving him a long look.

He holds up his hands in a placating motion. “Of course, of course. I’m a gentleman, Mom. You know that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, sure.” She gives you a warm smile, then. “It was wonderful meeting you. I hope to see you more often.”

“I hope so, too,” you reply and it’s not a lie.

She ducks into the car and you two take a few steps back, watching as the headlights flash on, illuminating the street.

They wave at you before making a u-turn and disappearing around the corner, likely heading to one of the tunnels that leads off to other quads to go back home.

It’s silent for a minute.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” you say.

“I want to,” he replies and that’s the end of it.

He locks the front door and you two set off.

The night is warmer than usual, but that could just be you, the remnants of wine still in your system. The cicadas are buzzing, too, as loud as ever, and with Kazuya next to you, you feel — light. Warm.

You raise your head to the sky, paying more attention to it than where your feet walk.

“I wish I could see it,” you murmur, pace slowing. Kazuya follows you instinctively.

“See what?” He asks, but you think he knows.

You say it anyway. “See what you see. Not this . . . black nothingness. Stars. Light.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, thinking, and you see him hesitantly reach out to you in the corner of your eye.

And you know what he’s going to try to do.

And you wonder what it’ll mean.

Afterlife is something that’s dependent on each person. No world is ever the same for one person.

But there’s certain cases, for those with bonds that go deeper than words can describe — a married couple, twins, best friends — where touch lets you see what they see.

The key is to letting down the mental guard in your mind, pushing away your own perception and giving into theirs.

You look at Kazuya.

Your heart is racing in your chest, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of your neck, though your face feels so warm.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, his hand hovering near yours.

“There’s nothing wrong with you moving on, too.”

It’s okay.

You reach for his hand.

Your white flag is raised. You’ve surrendered.

And the sky bursts into light.

The Milky Way stretches across the sky, bands of light glowing brilliantly in the night, stars twinkling.

Kazuya tugs on your hand and you look at him.

You see the brilliance of billions of stars reflecting in his eyes. His eyes — that are warm gold, full of tenderness and affection and a hundred other unspoken things.

It’s the last thing you see before his lips meet yours.

Five years pass before a courier comes knocking on your door.

You rise from the couch, sharing a confused look with Kazuya, who’s in the kitchen, in the middle of making breakfast.

You open the door, wincing at the bright sunlight that filters in from outside.

It’s a young boy — a courier, clad in the standard white uniform. You don’t let his appearance deceive you, though. Couriers appear at the age that’s most comforting for people — children, epitome of innocence and youth, a universal stage that everyone here has gone through.

He smiles at you, saying your name in a questioning tone.

“That’s me,” you say slowly.

“It looks like your ex-partner has just arrived here,” he tells you and the sound of the knife on the chopping block halts, before you feel Kazuya come stand behind you, slipping an arm around you, comforting, stabilizing.

But the news doesn’t shake you.

Instead, you smile. “How are they?”

“Doing well,” he replies. “Their spouse should be arriving soon, too. Within a couple days, I’d estimate. I’m simply notifying you that they’ll be in the next quad over,” he hands you a card with the information. “Just in case you’d like to visit. Or I can deliver a message for you, if you’d like.”

You don’t think you’ll visit them. It’s been so long, both for you and them, and you figure they have immediate family and friends they’d like to reunite with — those who actually managed to live their lives with them before passing here.

“Tell them I’m here, in this quad, at this home,” you say. “That . . . I’ve settled down. If they’d like to find me, they can. But it’s okay if not. We’ll bump into each other eventually. And I’ll be here for some time. Long enough to get those privileges on the reincarnation list.”

Kazuya squeezes your hip at that.

You’ve been talking about it; you’ve been together for the past five years and there’s more years, you know, left for you both. You haven’t aged, of course, frozen at twenty-five permanently and it’s not like you’ll ever get tired of each other.

No, you could never.

But certain couples who remain together here for a set amount of time become eligible for reincarnating into a world together, destined to find each other.

There are risks, of course.

There is no guarantee that says you’ll meet each other as adults, as teens, or even as kids.

But eternity is a long time.

And you and Kazuya can wait many more years, of course, but should there come a day when you both want a change of pace, a change of scenery, reincarnation — together — is what you’ll do.

The courier tips his hat at you. “Of course. Have a good day.”

“You, too,” you reply and you watch as he turns and, quite literally, disappears.

(Couriers aren’t mortal nor are they human, merely extensions of the higher beings that look over this realm, doing their business for them.)

He kisses your head. “You okay?”

You turn in his arms, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin. His arms tighten around your hips, pulling you closer.

His eyes shine like darkened citrine, molten under the beams of light. You can pick out the worry in his brow easily now.

“I’m fine,” you say and he looks a little dubious. “Honestly. It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?”

“Sure,” he agrees warily. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel a little sad.”

You smile. “I’m not sad.”

“You sure? You are here with me. Not like that’s an easy life to live. I understand if you’re getting tired of me,” he says, jokingly, gently pulling you back into the cool shade of your shared home.

He shuts the door and you wind your arms around his neck.

You kiss him. “I could never get tired of you,” you mumble against his mouth.

You feel him smile.

And you know you have found your peace.

It’s this home you share, in the same quad you met all those years ago. It’s the bed you sleep in together, the bathroom you share, the food you make together. It’s the routine, Kazuya working afternoons at the bar, you overseeing the library; having his parents over for dinner every two weeks and going out for breakfast with Yoichi and Eijun on Sundays.

It’s this life you’ve made for yourself here.

It’s him.

#this one is still a bit rough but its good! mostly written in a rush for an old friend's birthday in 2020 #turned out good still i think #also really proud of bc i managed to bang this out in only 8k #only 8k!!!! can u guys BELIEVE that #in the present time its impossible for me to write short stuff #even dogfish ended up being 42k over the span of two weeks #i think my writing is better but it also does take up quite a bit of time to do which kinda stinks #but thats ok thats just life #daiya no ace #daiya no ace x reader #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki x reader #ace of diamond #ace of diamond x reader #moss writes

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oatmealaddiction · 5 months

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Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

#Fma 03 #FMA #fullmetal alchemist #Fma:b #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #Legitimately though the original is so fucking good #The music alone makes it worth the watch #Also the art direction is better fight me #mild spoilers

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starcrossedmusings · 20 days

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Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #atz #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho imagines

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bioblsm · 3 months

Text

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 刃

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil’ somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

#id be willing to shove a fork in him if it meant getting an electric current directly from him 😍😍#cue boothill and me kissing while mumbling but we’re both boys🥺🥺#hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gn!reader #hsr x gn reader #honkai x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dr ratio x reader #ratio x reader #veritas x reader #ruan mei x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #boothill x reader

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bwabys-scenarios · 8 months

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helloooo!! I saw ur requests were open and that you were askin for some dungeon meshi x chubby reader....I gotchu covered.

May I please request some Chilchuck(or..Chilchack?? Ive no clue what the spelling is..) x Chubby!Reader and maybe also some Laois x Chubby!Reader? If you dont do multiples then either guy is fine!!

Sfw and nsfw on how they interact and think of your body? Scenarios like you tending to grab Chilchuck away from danger alot so he gets alot of booba action?? Embarrassed flustered old man?? Having to look up at you(if you were to be taller) but all he sees is ur chest?? Him givin Alot of needy attention to them when you do fool around cuz it Has been a big thing on his mind?? Him stiching and adjusting ur undershirt so it actually helps support ur chest a bit better and ur so grateful? Laois having a staring habit when he spaces out...yknow him and his tendencies to be curious(he wanted to Count Izutsumi nipples for gods sake.), he just doesnt know, he doesnt mean for it to be creepy or anything he jus is SO infactuated w ur body its so so so beautiful to him, him getting super happy and starts exploring ur body when consent is given?? Alot of his attention is on ur chest too, weighing it, squeezing. Stuff w warm body heat too, Just all around big loving

Thank you so much if you decide to do this and incredibly sorry if I messed up in my ask in anyway 💖💖💖

Chilchuck x Chubby!Reader SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

a/n: I will do the Laois one in a separate post!! The Chilchuck ideas just… spoke to me!! Also pls send me Dungeon Meshi requests… I’m open to writing for all the adult characters…

warnings: boob sucking, tittyfucking, breeding, cockwarming, thigh fucking, pussy eating

SFW

-you’re probably the only one in the party that he can sleep next to without complaining. you’re soft and warm, and when you ask if you can share his bed with him for the night because it’s cold, he’s… a bit too eager to lift up his blanket for you to join him.

-he complains that you don’t eat enough, and ends up giving you bits of his lunch and dinner. he just think your chubby cheeks are so cute when you’re chewing and likes to watch you eat. he does worry for you though…

-if it’s dark and you’re a bit afraid, he’ll hold your hand. if you ask him why in front of Laois or Marcille he’ll get all flustered and say he didn’t want you to trip him up.

-he only reaches your boobs, which is both a blessing and a curse for him. he can look at your boobs all day with little to no suspicion, but he also gets pulled into your boobs quite often when you hug him or try and save him from an attack. that might sound good to some people, but to him it gets him all flustered and hard embarrassed, then he gets teased by Marcille :(

-oh my gosh snuggles with him are so nice. he’s rather light so once the two of you are close, he’ll lie on top of you and bury his face in your chest or tummy! he’s actually quite the cuddlebug, and will want to snuggle you every single night after the first time.

-your tummy… he loves it so much. Chilchuck is quite the fan of anything soft, so more often than not, when he’s taking a nap he’ll have his head in your lap and face buried in your chubby tummy.

-he’s a bit embarrassed to show you affection in front of the others, so ways he shows he cares are usually subtle unless it’s behind closed doors or away from prying eyes. he peels your apples for you, bandages you up after you get hurt, will tug on your shirt to remind you that he’s here and that he loves you, and give your palm secret kisses when no one’s looking.

-he’s surprisingly possessive? when Laois looks at you, even if he’s just curious and wants to ask you questions, Chilchuck rushes over and finds some excuse to pull you away. he’s the most worried about Laois, but doesn’t like Senshi being all close to you either. he puts up with it more though, but dislikes that Senshi acts like yours and his relationship is like puppy love(Chilchuck is a grown ass man 😭)

-he’s very soft with you, very rarely being sarcastic or short with you specifically. he made you cry once early on in your relationship and it absolutely devastated him, so since then he’s been a lot more careful about what he says

-speaking of crying, he can’t stand your tears, it makes him nervous. if you’re a cry baby be prepared for him to be fretting over you constantly!

-you’re the person everyone in the party wants to snuggle with when it gets cold, so he has to shoo people away, blushing and stuttering about how they’re crowding you. once they’re all pouting and walking away, he huffs and snuggles up to you. you find his jealousy pretty cute, so you lift up your shirt a little so he can duck under it and rest his head on your chubby tummy or breasts.

-your chubby cheeks activate his cuteness aggression. he didn’t even know he liked cute things until he saw your cheeks puffed out and warm after someone made you mad. he nearly stopped breathing, it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t help but cup your cheek in his hands. your face heated up even more when he stared up at your with those adoring eyes, gently pinching your cheeks. “soft… so soft and warm…”

-he can be a bit clingy at times, especially when it gets colder out. when you go to sleep, he has to sleep under your shirt, his head on your chest or tummy. you complain about him stretching your your shirts, but he thinks the slightly oversized look is cute on you. honestly, everything is cute on you, because you’re adorable to him.

NSFW

-boobies… he loves your boobs so much. they’re soft and warm, feeling nice and heavy in his hands when he holds them. loves when he gets to bury his face in your bare chest and just snooze… but he also adores getting to play with your nipples, gently nibbling and suckling on the perky buds. he won’t lie, he can get hard just from looking at your clothed chest…

-he is absolutely a service dom that wants to make you feel good, but he can also enjoy being taken care of sometimes!

-enjoys being between your thighs more than he likes to admit. the first time he tasted your pussy was also the first time you ever saw him look so… in love. he gets pussy drunk within minutes, not able to stop sucking on your sensitive clit until you push his head away. he had a wife so he’s definitely experienced with pleasing a woman, so don’t be surprised when he has you cumming on his tongue for an hour or more! <3

-when he’s feeling a bit horny and doesn’t want to bother you at night, he’ll kiss your temple and hold onto your hips as he fucks your thighs, his cock lightly brushing against your pussy. your thighs are fat and soft, and he just loves nestling his cock between them!

-sometimes he’s just tired and wants some snuggles, so he’ll have his cock buried inside of you while you sit on his lap. the first time he asked for this you were terrified you’d crush him because he’s so small and you’re chubby, but he begged for it, something he had never done before. you relented, and as soon as he was buried inside of you, with his head nuzzled against your chest, he looked just too content. “thank you, love… it’s perfect…”

-he’s embarrassed by how good it feels to hear you moan his name, when you say how his cock feels so nice when it hits that certain spot and how you’re gonna cum way quicker than he expected. you being so attracted to him, feeling so much pleasure by him just thrusting into you gets him feeling giddy!

-he most certainly has a bit of a breeding kink… he has 3 daughters already that he loves, but… the urge to claim you and give you a child as well does make his body heat up and his pants grow tight. Chilchuck would like to get you pregnant, but only when it’s safe to do so. he doesn’t pull out though… he just can’t, it’s too tempting and you’re way too warm and cozy… it’s why he loves cockwarming so much!

-circling back to boobs… he’s definitely the type to enjoy a good tittyfuck, but it’ll take him a while to accept this. he’s utterly embarrassed to have his cock anywhere near your face due to being a bit shy, but once he’s nestled between your breasts and your tongue touches the tip of his cock, he groans, nearly cumming right then and there. he’s already a huge fan of your breasts, so feeling them on his cock is otherworldly, and it becomes one of his favorite ways to relieve stress

-he likes to either cum inside of you or on your tummy… he refuses to cum on your face, and will only cum in your mouth if you ask. when he fucks your thighs, he does tend to make a mess all over you and feels awful since it’s not exactly easy to bathe regularly in the dungeon. but you do look awfully cute, messy and sticky with his cum, puffing out your chubby cheek to give him a pout.

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 8 months

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Dogday!! Trying to figure out a way to send a Y/N in there to help him.

Rambles under the cut.

(I drew my sona in these cuz self-indulgent, but if I ever write anything it'll be a reader insert with little to no canon design.)

Design notes: Took some elements from his game model as well as his cartoon design. I think when we see him, he is emaciated and/or stretched out, the way CatNap is said to be able to stretch. Don't know if that's an ability all Smiling Critters have though. For now I'm saying it is SOMEWHAT but CatNap is the better at it by MILES. In any case, that's why he's not quite as lanky as he is in game, and is also a bit shorter.

I also he can be bipedal or quadrupedal, much like CatNap seems to be able to switch back and forth. A bit more animalistic than his cartoon counterpart, but part of that is just him not wanting to tower over the children and employees all the time, so drops down to all fours quite a bit.

The fur texture on his ears in the game cave him a floofy cocker spaniel look so I went with that instead of the less floofy ears he has in the cartoon and his original plushie.

The white pupils being absent when we see him I believe is a sign of how weak he is. When healthy, all the Bigger Bodies Smiling Critters have them, much like CatNap does.

Trying to actually keep his huge open-mouth smile at all times, unlike with my FNAF stuff where I give them more of an ability to emote. That said trying to get him to look angry or sad was a challenge. Sad I think worked okay but the one where I meant him to look angry he looks more cocky or smirky than mad. Tender moments are a bit harder too, as keeping that huge grin with more tender eyes results in him looking either drunk or horney or just like he's not taking the moment very seriously, haha.

And the story? Not sure yet, bouncing around a few ideas, though I don't think I'll have the reader and the player be the same person. Reader might be someone who came up in PlayCare alongside Dogday. Perhaps they knew each other as kids when Dogday was still human. Haven't decided how much of this Dogday remembers or at what point the reader realizes Dogday is their old friend who got "adopted".

Reader grows up the Playcare and is given a job once they're an adult. (Something something starting the brainwashing and normalization of bullshit early to make employees who are more willing to look the other way?)

Dogday somehow kept them hidden during the Hour of Joy and the reader's been living in the caves ever since. (The caves open up so much possibility for people being hidden in the factory. Much easier to say there's an unknown offshoot of a natural cave system than an unknown part of the factory.)

How are they staying fed? Uhhhh...cave mushrooms? Trips to the surface? Moss? Stale vending machine candy? I don't know yet.

Not sure how to pull a happy ending out of this horror but I'm trying. Maybe the reader convinces Dogday to leave after Ch 3 because he'd be too weak to help anyway or something? And uh...I'm just gonna pretend since he's kinda a plushie he can be sewn back together even though I'm PRETTY SURE canonically the inclusion of blood and guts makes that...not a thing.

Just remember guys...all winds blow away...eventually.

#poppy playtime #dogday #ppt dogday #ppt3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #spoilers #ppt3 spoilers #poppy playtime spoilers #ppt x reader #ppt dogday x reader #dogday x reader #x reader #my art

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jetii · 1 month

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On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

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Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit.

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson.

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to.

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster.

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you.

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open.

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell.

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust.

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it.

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself.

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you.

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

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#tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #clone x reader #roy writes #well i finally did it #here it is #if you see any mistakes no you didn't!#also thinking of doing some sort of celebration for 500 followers #maybe i'll do a prompt list or something #i need some fresh ideas

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iluvmattsbeard · 5 months

Text

so high school (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing but fluff

preview: Matt and his friends were seniors in high school, they decided to play a game of kiss, marry, kill in class. when it was Matt’s turn, his friend adds you in the mix. he never quite noticed you before and when he did, he was intrigued. you were two opposites. he ended up passing notes to you in class. you never expected the outcome from all of this.

a/n: this is a long one but, I loved writing it. I saw someone on here ask to write a fic based off so high school. which, I attempted to do! this is my take of how I pictured it in my head. I forgot who it was who posted about it but if you’re the person, here’s my version!

it was almost the end of the school day, Matt was sat down at a table full of his friends. it was technically a free period since testing was held today. "let's play a game." his close friend Nate suggests. "what kind of game?" Chris asks curiously. "kiss marry kill." Nate responds with a grin. it caught Matt's attention, speaking up, "that's a childish game." the group laughs before Nate speaks up again, "well we have nothing better to do." the group looks at Matt, "what do you say? you in?" Nate adds on. "I guess i'll participate." Matt says fixing his posture. "okay who will start?" Nick joins in.

after a few rounds, the boys were laughing from the answers that had passed. it was finally Matt's turn, Chris ended up giving him the options, "okay let's see..." he says looking around the class, "Chloe, Madison, and..." he continues looking and lands his eyes on a girl resting her head on her palm as she read a book, "her I guess." Chris adds on. Matt looks at the girl and tilts his head a bit, "what's her name?" he asks.

"I think it's Y/n." Nick responds looking at you. you lift your head a bit from the sound of your name being said, "Nick, you're too loud." Chris whispers. you just ignored it and continued to read the book in front of you. Matt starts to play the game as he chose you to kill, "I only put her in that spot because I don't know her." he explains. the bell rings and everyone started to get up, including you. you shut your book and placed it in your back pack. Matt got up taking glances at you. you were wearing a white cardigan with jeans. your hair was half way up and half way down. you zipped up your back pack and put it on one of your shoulders only.

before you walk out, you catch a glimpse of Matt's gaze and you smile a bit at him, which he does back, then you walk out. Matt then picked up his back pack and put it on heading out as well. he walked to his car with his brothers and got in buckling up. "you guys don't know anything else about that Y/n girl?" Matt asks causing Nick to raise an eyebrow, "no, why?" he questions while Chris looks at Matt curious as well. "nothing I was just wondering. I thought I knew everyone in that class." he says starting the car. "she just keeps to herself that's why. no one wants to bother her I guess." Nick says. Matt just nods and drives out from the school parking lot.

the next day, your eyes were focused on your computer as you did the assignment for today. Matt was still curious about you, from yesterday's small smiles at each other, he wanted to take the opportunity to get to know you. he took out his notebook and a pencil as he started to write. after he was done, he ripped it out from the notebook and folded it. "hey." he says tapping the girl in front of him, "can you pass it to her?" Matt says looking at you. the girl he asked was behind you. she nods and takes the note, tapping your shoulder. you turn around and look at the folded paper. "it's from Matt." she whispers using her thumb to point behind her. you take the note and turn back around to open it.

'hey, I know you don't know me but, I also don't know you so, I was wondering if you wanted to get to know each other? I found it odd that I know everyone else in here except for you.' - Matt

you smile a bit from the note and pick up your pencil writing back. you handed it back to the girl and she passed it back to Matt.

'hi i'm Y/n. that's really out of the blue but, sure. i'd like to get to know you. also, yeah I get that a lot.' - Y/n

Matt smiles and writes back explaining how he even found out about you. you guys were passing notes the whole class which, the girl in between you ended up switching seats with Matt so he could pass the notes himself.

'so I was apart of your kiss marry kill?' - Y/n

'yeah but don't worry, my choice for you was not personal.' - Matt

you giggle softly to yourself. the bell ended up ringing and you guys left it off at that. you packed your stuff and turned around to give him the same soft smile from yesterday before walking out. for the rest of the day, Matt could not stop thinking about you. "what's on your mind?" Nick asks him. "oh nothing." Matt responds smiling. Chris and Nick just look at each other in a weird way.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

the weekend was finally over and Matt couldn't already wait to get to his last class. when the time comes, he was about to sit down behind you but the teacher stops him. "Matt." Mrs. Dean speaks up causing the boy to stop in his tracks and turn around, "yes?" he asks. "we need to talk about your grade in this class. I heard you aren't doing so well in other classes as well?" she says pulling up his grades. you couldn't help but have the conversation catch your attention as you unzipped your back pack. "Matt, you have to raise these grades or else you'll be suspended from the lacrosse game in a month." the teacher says making Matt's eyes widen, "what? how could I raise my grades that quickly?" he asks. "I don't know Matt but it's possible. you have to really put in the work." she says. Matt just sighs and nods, going to sit at his desk. as time goes by, you turn around and place a note in front of him which makes him look at you and smile a bit.

'I can help you raise your grades if you'd like.' - Y/n

he smiles even more reading it. he immediately writes back taking you on the offer.

'if it's not too much of a hassle, i'd gladly accept your help.' - Matt

'well I did come up with the idea so, it wont be a hassle.' - Y/n

'can I get your number?' - Matt

you ended up writing down your phone number and he thanks you in his actual voice. he started to realize, he hasn't heard your voice, so when you spoke up to say 'you're welcome', he felt his heart start to race a bit. your voice was soft and comforting in a way. even though you only said two words to him.

the next day, you and Matt meet up at one of the picnic tables in the courtyard. "hey." Matt says with a smile walking up to sit in front of you. you smile back, "hi Matt." you greet him. "I'm going to warn you right now, I have a bunch of missing assignments." he says opening his back pack. you let out a soft laugh, "that's fine. you have a month to get it all done. plus, you have extra hands to help you." you reassure him. he smiles and nods, "thank you again." he says pulling out the pile of papers he had inside his back pack. your eyes widen a bit and laugh a bit, "don't thank me yet. we haven't started." you respond while looking at the stack. you both laugh at the same time.

you two have been tackling his missing work for a few days now until one day, he tells you something, "Y/n?" you look up at him and respond, "yes?" "I still want to get to know you better." he says making you look at him with a smile, "well..." you start off, putting your pencil down, "what do you want to know?" he puts down his pencil as well before he speaks, "just tell me stuff that makes you, well you." you laugh a bit before nodding, "well I barely moved to Massachusetts the beginning of senior year, i'm an only child, I enjoy reading in my free time, and let's see..." you pause for a bit. Matt was just sitting there, very drawn to you as you speak. "I don't really know what else I could say." you say with a soft laugh. Matt joins in laughing before he speaks, "I guess I just have to spend more time with you to get more from you." you smile nervously and look away, "well, let's focus on getting this work done." Matt adds on which you agree to.

since you began to help Matt, his friends have been wondering why he's been distant. he was constantly with you and he never told his friends about you. as you guys sat there, his group of friends walk over and tease him, "what is this?" Nate asks with a foolish smile. Matt rolls his eyes and looks at the group, "what are you guys doing here?" he asks. "the question is, what are you doing here? with..." Nate looks at you, "Y/n right?" Nate asks. you nod in silence feeling awkward, "Y/n is helping me complete my missing assignments so I could raise my grades. if I don't raise them, I won't be able to play the lacrosse game coming up." Matt says. Chris widens his eyes, "what? why didn't you tell us?" he asks. "you guys weren't going to be able to help me so Y/n offered." Matt responds looking at you.

"you still could've told us." Nick says before looking at you, "I'm Nick by the way." you smile and greet him back, "nice to meet you." "are you sure you guys are only studying? I mean Matt talks about y-." Chris was cut off by Matt, "okay guys. me and Y/n still have lots to do." the group of boys nod and say their goodbyes, walking away. Matt shakes his head and focuses his eyes on the text book in front of him. you look at him and laugh, "you talk about me?" you ask. he looks up and takes a tiny gulp, "he was just teasing us." Matt tries to cover up from the truth. you just nod, "okay I believe you." you say looking back down with a smile.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you and Matt were at the usual picnic table at school as you both stood in front of the computer. it's been two weeks since you started to help him. you both stood there waiting for his grades to update. it took a lot of work but, hopefully it was worth it. you and Matt stare at the screen as he clicked refresh one more time. "Y/n!" he says standing up straight. you looked at the screen to see his grades now passing with A's and B's. you turn to look at him and your mouth was open a bit from shock, "you did it Matt!" you exclaim happily. "no, we did it Y/n." he says with a smile hugging you suddenly. your eyes widen a bit but you hugged back slowly, "thank you Y/n." he whispers still embracing you. "you're welcome Matt." you reply as you both pull away. you both stand there now nervously laughing. "let's go show Mrs. Dean." you suggest. the boy nods and you both pack your stuff and walk to her classroom.

the next day, Matt kept bugging you in class with the notes he's been writing.

'Y/n tell me how I can repay you. seriously!' - Matt

'I don't need to be repaid Matt. it was me who offered to help in the first place. i'm just glad I helped you.' - Y/n

'how about I take you to the drive in?' - Matt

your eyes widen a bit from the question. you’ve never been asked to go anywhere especially with a boy. alone. you hover your pencil over the paper as you think about what to say.

‘i’ve never been to the drive in.’ - Y/n

‘well then you’re about to :)’ - Matt

you look back at him and he smiles making you smile as well.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Y/n’s POV

“dad i’ll be back before 9 pm I promise.” I say putting on small hoop earrings. my dad has never been in this situation before, well neither have I, so this was all new for the both of us. “honey, let her finish getting ready.” my mom joins in with a small laugh. “who even is this boy Y/n?” my dad asks curiously. “he’s just a boy from school that I helped out. now, he said he wants to repay me that’s all.” I say putting on chapstick. “do you like this boy?” my mom asks. “yes.” I say bluntly but realize it came off the other way, “as a friend!” I add on. my mom laughs and nods, “okay sweet heart. I’ll get your dad out of your hair.” she says dragging my dad out the room with her.

I look at myself in the mirror and touch up anything that doesn’t look right. my phone suddenly buzzes. I pick it up to see a text from Matt. it was him letting me know he was outside. I get up and put on my shoes, heading out my bedroom and to the front door until I got stopped by my dad. “hold on Y/n.” he says getting up from the couch. “dad please. I have to go.” I say but he walks up to me and opens the door. he takes a look at Matt through his car window. Matt gets out the car and walks up to the door. “hello sir.” Matt says with a smile. “what’s up kid. where are you taking my daughter?” my dad asks. “i’m just taking her to the drive in. it’s to repay her for helping me play this weekend’s game.” Matt says. “you play a sport?” my dad asks now intrigued.

“I play lacrosse.” Matt says with a soft laugh. “that’s awesome. well, you two enjoy the movie. be safe most importantly.” my dad says patting Matt’s shoulder. “thank you dad. bye.” I say walking to Matt’s car. we both get inside and I look at him, “i’m so sorry about him.” I apologize. he laughs softly and starts the car, “why are you saying sorry? it went great.” he reassures me. “I just didn’t think you guys would meet. I mean, he’s never met anyone else before.” I say. he looks at me, “wait, i’m the first guy he’s ever met?” he asks with a slight shocked expression. “yeah…” I say quietly. “is that a problem?” I add on. he smiles and chuckles, “no! i’m just surprised.” he says as he starts to drive off. “what’s so surprising?” I question keeping my eyes on the road.

“I thought a bunch of guys would’ve taken you out by now.” he says. I stay silent for a bit, what is that supposed to mean? “I don’t talk to guys like that.” I utter. “looks like i’m special.” Matt smiles from his words. I just shake my head playfully, “I guess so.” I laugh a bit.

End of Y/n’s POV

later on, you both were sitting there in the car as the movie played on the big screen. Matt wasn’t paying attention that much because all he could focus on was how nervous he was being right next to you. to be completely honest, he hasn’t taken out a girl before. he only cared about his friends and sports so he didn’t think he would have anytime for a relationship but, he just shook off the thoughts. he was just repaying you right? towards the end of the movie, you notice him glancing at you and you caught his eyes. you both sat there as you stared at each other while the movie played through the radio. Matt started to move his eyes to your lips, making you gulp. you two started to lean in slowly but stopped once you guys heard the car next to you start its engine.

you both move away from each other and laugh nervously. the drive home was painfully awkward. when you got home, you laid in bed and buried your face in your pillow. all you could think about now was, what if you guys kissed?

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

a few days pass, you could not get Matt off your mind. you knew he was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. you just didn’t know what to do with these feelings. besides that near kiss, nothing else happened after. he did invite you to his lacrosse practice later after school.

‘come on. you can watch me practice and try to understand the game.’ - Matt

you stared at the note and thought about what to say. you had the same hesitation from when he asked you to go to the drive in. you gulp and start to write a response.

‘okay fine. i’ll come.’ - Y/n

the bell rings and he stands up grabbing his stuff, shortly after he grabs your hand walking out the classroom. you follow him as you look at the way your fingers entwined. you felt your cheeks turn pink from the gesture. you soon made it out to the grass field. he lets go of your hand and looks at you, “I got to put on my uniform but look out for number four okay?” he says smiling. you nod and smile back as he walks away.

you make your way up onto the bleachers as you sit down away from some people. when all the boys head out on the field, you immediately spot Matt in his number four jersey. you smile and see him point his stick at you which makes you giggle quietly. “hey Y/n.” you turn to see Nick join right next to you. “hi. you don’t play?” you ask. he shakes his head, “absolutely not. I cried and quit the first time I played.” you both laugh at his words.

as the boys started to practice, Nick started to explain the game to you. you were starting to understand the concept and how points work. by the time they finished, Nick claimed you as a pro. “you learn quickly!” he exclaims with a smile. “well, I did help him study. only fair for me to study the game.” you say laughing.

when you arrived home that day, you couldn’t stop thinking about him still. you sat on your bed as you started to think of ways to support him at the game tomorrow. you had the perfect idea.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you look at yourself in the school bathroom mirror as you smile. today was the day Matt has been anticipating. he was still thanking you all day that he gets to play today. which you kept repeatedly telling him to stop.

Matt

wish me luck today! I hope to hear you in the stands.

you smile at the text and reply.

Y/n

good luck Matt. also, I don’t know about that.

you head out the bathroom and make your way out to the bleachers. you wanted to be close to the front so Nick saved you a seat. “thank you for giving me one of his jerseys.” you say to Nick. “of course! he’s going to love seeing you in it.” he responds. you and Nick engage in conversation as he tells you child hood stories about the three of them. you two were laughing and getting along. “i’m so glad Matt started talking to you. I feel like none of us wanted to reach out to you because we thought you didn’t want anybody bothering you.” Nick lets out making you laugh softly.

you hear a person through the speakers introduce the team and you instantly switch your attention towards the field. the team runs out onto the field and everybody starts to cheer, including you.

Matt’s POV

when me and my team run out onto the field, I instantly search for Y/n in the stands. when I finally see her, I couldn’t help but notice her shirt. it was my jersey. it looked a little big on her and I laughed to myself. she looked amazing. I pointed my lacrosse stick at her and she just gave thumbs up with a smile. I definitely need to do good for her.

End of Matt’s POV

during the game, you were so focused on Matt that you started to realize how good he was. he was absolutely crushing everyone on the opposite team. it was down to the final countdown. you were at the edge of your seat with Nick as you guys watch Matt with the ball, he starts to run and push past the opponents as he throws the ball straight to the net, making the final goal. everybody stands up and cheer as you and Nick jump up and down. “let’s go Matt!” you yell out. you were so caught up in the moment you didn’t realize you really put yourself out there cheering for him. Matt takes off his helmet and runs towards the stands. you walk down the bleachers as he drops the stick and helmet onto the ground. you embrace him in a hug as he wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up slightly.

“good job Matt!” you exclaim happily. “I couldn’t do it without you.” he says. it made your heart melt but you were also confused, “what do you mean?” you say pulling away smiling. “I was thinking about you the whole time. it was my motivation.” he says smiling. your heart started to beat fast. “Matt… that’s so sweet…” you say. he scratches the back of his neck shyly, “yeah…” he says. it was the same awkward feeling from the car ride home back from the drive in. “let me go change into my actual clothes and i’ll meet up with you in the parking lot okay?” he says. you nod and smile.

later on, you were standing in the parking lot as you waited. he eventually came out from the school building and greets you with a smile. you just stood there still feeling awkward. your feelings for him were growing stronger and you couldn’t take it anymore. “nice jersey by the way.” he says opening his trunk with a smile. “thank you very much.” you smile a bit. you watched him put his equipment in his trunk as he noticed your body language. “is something bothering you?” he asks shutting the trunk.

Y/n’s POV

my heart was racing. how do I tell him how I feel? “Y/n?” he speaks up looking at me with concern. “Matt… I don’t know how to put this into words.” I say quietly. he leans back on the car as he responds, “it’s okay. take your time.” I stand there and look away with a nervous laugh before looking back at him, “well… i’ve been feeling a certain way lately. ever since I met you, I knew there was something different about you. I mean you went out of your way to talk to me when no one else would.” I pause for a moment, I can’t believe i’m doing this, “remember when you said you’re special and I said I guess? well, it’s not I guess. it’s yes, you are special. i’m sorry if this is too much.” I stop myself. “no keep going.” he says with a reassuring smile. I let out a breath, “what i’m trying to say is…” I stop looking at my feet nervously before looking back up at him, “no one’s ever had me… not like you. like today, I didn’t even know I could cheer that loud. when we aren’t together, I constantly think about you and when I lay there, I can’t help but wonder if you feel the same.” I say.

he stands up straight getting off the car. “that’s actually crazy.” he says catching me off guard. “what?” I ask stunned. he laughs nervously before talking, “i’ve been feeling the same way Y/n. like I said earlier, you were my motivation the whole game. when we first started talking, I already felt like my heart was going to beat out my chest. when we went to the drive in, I should’ve just told you then. I was having these thoughts ever since. every day, I look forward to seeing you. that has never happened to me before. I feel the same way Y/n.” he says making me feel much more at ease. “you really mean that?” I ask with a slight smile. “of course I do Y/n.” he says grabbing my hands softly, interlocking them.

End of Y/n’s POV

“so what now Matt?” you ask looking into his eyes. “what do you think?” he asks with a smile. you stayed quiet for a bit before asking him a question, “are you gonna marry kiss or kill me?” he smiles at the familiar question, “for now, I think i’ll go with kiss.” he says pulling you in by your intertwined hands, unlocking them, placing his hands on your face kissing you softly. you place your arms around his neck as you tip toe yourself up to reach him better. he moves his hands down, wrapping his arms around your lower waist as he picks you up slightly, without breaking the kiss. you never would’ve imagined high school being like this. finally finding a boy who you knew you could give yourself to. you both continue to kiss, smiling in between kisses and eventually pulling away. you both had your foreheads touching as you both laughed softly in each other’s arms.

a/n: sorry if this is so long! likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated.

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gotham-daydreams · 1 year

Note

How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.

I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!

I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.

Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.

Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.

Nevertheless, back to the reader!

From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.

One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.

Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!

They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.

Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.

When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.

So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.

Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.

It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.

Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.

The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.

The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.

It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.

Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.

However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.

Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.

You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.

Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!

Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.

So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.

Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.

He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.

No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.

Let's just say, things work out a little too well.

---

As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!

Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!

I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.

So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.

This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.

... Hopefully.

I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.

Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.

Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.

Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.

The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!

Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.

Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)

I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.

Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.

The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.

So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.

Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.

Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.

So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.

I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?

So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.

I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #gn reader #sibling reader #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #platonic yandere #yandere alfred #neglected reader #talking daydreams #yandere batman

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cubeshapedlemon · 4 months

Text

Atomic Baby

You, a wastelander are captured by an unfortunate group of men, your knight in dusty leather does more for you than you originally thought he would.

☆ ☆ ☆

Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x f!reader

6.2k words

cw & tags: general smut, piv, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), cannon typical violence, unwanted (implied) sexual advances(not by cooper), brief alcohol use, use of pet names, heavy flirting, cannon typical drug use

☆ ☆ ☆

authors note: this is my first fallout fic! im hoping to write more! (check out my pinned post for more info) and my first nsfw one so i hope you enjoy. Tbh there are some moments where he is slightly ooc, just kinder than in cannon but whatever. There is a large possibility that this could become a multi-chapter at some point but it can 100% be read free standing. please reblog if you wish but do not repost or translate anywhere without my permission. anyway thank you! and let me know if you notice any mistakes or something i missed in the tags!

Waking up to three weaselly looking men looming over you with a rather sharp looking hatchet, not the best thing ever. Your little camp seeming to be ransacked already, you glare up. The one who seems to be the leader of their little group ties a rough length of rope to your wrists as the other two rifle through your bag. Hauling you up they force you to start waking.

The scorching hot sun beams down on your shoulders as you walk. The irradiated heat of the wasteland is never forgiving, especially not recently; even at night it’s been like sleeping in an oven.

☆ ☆ ☆

Walking, endless walking. It has already been about an hour or so since your capture. The winds picking up, trapping your lungs with dusty red soil. Phlegmy coughs and chortles follow behind you. At least they aren't at your side anymore, for the first half hour or so they would take turns shoulder checking you… or spitting at you… or tripping you… really anything those dirty bastards could think of. At this point their boredom with you is really coming to your advantage.

The greasy men are probably hoping to sell you or your organs for a few caps. Either one, not fantastic. Soil kicks up around you, forceful wind driving you to trudge forward with more effort. Glancing down at your wrists you start to feel some relief, the knot binding your wrists getting looser by the second. The dumb bastards clearly were no eagle scouts, their poor attempt at a knot slowly unfurling as you walk.

Looking forward again you have some hope. A dinghy looking town ahead of you. Walking closer and closer you see something in the town? Someone? Oh thank the lord someone. Maybe there is hope for you after all, I mean just weighing the odds, what are the chances that this random person is also chomping at the bit for some extra caps? Thinking about it now, they probably are. Well, a small chance is better than no chance.

Unraveling the last of the rope you propel yourself forward, running desperately. Your life -quite literally- depends on it. Your captors quickly realize and start chasing after you, you race forward, sights pinned on the figure in front of you.

Stopping yourself just quickly enough, you slam into the figure, making them stumble back slightly. “Now what in the-” the accented baritone voice of the person says. Grasping onto the lapels of his jacket you stare up desperately begging,

“Please help me sir, these guys captured me. I think they're going to sell me or something!”

The man looks up for a moment, staring at the men just a few seconds away before looking back down at you, “What's in it for me doll?” he says, smirking down.

“Just please!” a short chuckle erupts from his chest, placing a hand on your waist he pushes you behind him.

“I gotcha, just stay behind me.” Your captors slow to a stop, attempting to catch their breath; one of the goons is the first to attempt speech through all the heavy breathing.

“Give her back, we found ‘er first.” He says in a whiny tone, clearly not the brightest bulb.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“Well… uh” he struggles to find the words, dumbly looking to his superior.

“Well what? Cat got yer’ tongue?”

The ring leader is the next to speak, lips parting in a sneer, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “Finders keepers ghoul. It's rare you see a pretty little thing like her these days… thought we'd sell ‘er. Caps are hard to come by. You understand.”

“Well, I can't deny she is quite the looker,” the ghoul says, looking to his side over at you, eyes grazing over your face before looking up, staring holes through the head of the man in front. “But in terms of the ‘finders keepers’ I'm going to have to dispute that fellas’. You see… i'm not really in the business of sharin’ and she seems to have found me,'' he laughs, hand going to his holster, “so i'm keepin’.”

Between the effort of running and the ghoul's comment your face is quite warm. The tension between him and the men rises every millisecond. Praying that the ghoul is a reliable shot seems to be your only hope as the group gets more irritated by the second. The leader goes to speak again, clearly not taking the hand-on-the-holster hint from the ghoul.

“I don't think so-” he says, drawing his pistol. The ghoul, already prepared, fires off a shot, beating him to his own, a bullet landing in the man’s shoulder. The leader stumbles, being taken to one knee. The goons caught by surprise go to draw their own guns, before another warning shot fires off, grazing the cheek of one.

Taking the hint, they drop their guns, hands held shakily as they lower to themselves to kneel on the ground. Clearly not wanting to take any chances. The ghoul walks over to the leader, the barrel of his gun pressed into the man's chin, forcing him to look up. The ghoul grins sarcastically.

“Well I know so. Now, why don't you pick your dusty ass up and get you, and your little…” He looks back at the two other men, “fanclub, outta’ here while I take care of that fine piece of ass you so helpfully lead into my arms.” He holsters his gun again, reaching into his pocket for a moment, “Some caps for your troubles.” he says, dropping a few caps on the ground before turning around and walking back to you.

“I- thank you.” you say dumbly, looking up at the ghoul.

“Don't thank me sweetheart,” he says, scanning your body for injuries. His eyes lock on a laceration on your arm before looking back at you. “Let's get you stitched up now,” he says with a tone you can't quite place. You lift your arm to look at the wound for a moment, must've gotten it at some point during the walk.

Looking back up, the ghoul has already walked past you, most likely expecting you to follow as he heads towards a building a few meters away. Quickly you move to follow him, eager to get away from your former captors.

☆ ☆ ☆

You watch awkwardly as he rummages for a needle and thread, finally finding some, he threads the needle, Sitting down on the only chair available. He looks up expectantly with a barely-there smirk.

“Well, come take your seat doll,” he says, patting his thigh. “That there won't stitch itself,” he says nodding to your arm. A heat once again rises to your face as you shuffle over, sitting down on his knee, the wound facing him as your legs are thrown across his lap. You attempt to focus on the wall ahead of you, ignoring the fact that this is the only welcome touch you've had in a while.

Soon you have something else to focus on as the most definitely not sterile needle pierces your skin. You look over your shoulder at the man, his hat tipped back lazily as he pinches the needle through his thumb and forefinger. A whip stitch quickly binding the laceration. He ties a knot before snapping the extra thread off with a nip of his teeth.

He grasps you at the waist and under your knees, standing, while setting your feet on the ground. “I believe that's all. ‘Should be able to gather enough things here to get you on your way,” he says, walking to the door.

“Wait! Could I come with you? I don't have much, but I could help you in some way... Carry supplies, cook, something,” you say, not ready to be alone quite yet. He gives an almost genuine smile, facing you again.

“Well I don't find myself in need of a pack mule. I'll be on my way ma'am.” he replies, tipping his hat before walking out, seeming to already have his next location in mind. He walks confidently, out of the town into the infinite desert ahead.

☆ ☆ ☆

After gathering a decent amount of supplies in the surrounding buildings you stand in the middle of town absolutely stumped. There is nothing for you in this abandoned town you find yourself in and it's not like you've had the best track record with setting up your own camp recently.

Wandering around a little more you find yourself where you met your knight in dusty leather. The other men now long gone, you stoop down and collect the things they left. Lucky for you they pretty much dropped everything they had, undoubtedly wanting to get away from the ghoul as quickly as possible.

Picking through their supplies you find that they left their guns and a decent amount of ammo, as you attach the holster to your belt you notice some strange little bottles; about four of them. Tiny cylindrical vials filled with a clear yellow-green liquid. Well, chems are chems you think to yourself, stuffing them inside a first aid kit you found inside one of the buildings.

After nosing around the supplies a bit more you decide you don't want anything else. What to do now…

Well, making your own camp is out of the question for now. You could follow the ghoul, he seems to be a decent survivalist, and the safest person you've interacted with in months. You could stay just behind him, he won't even notice. Just until he passes a more substantial settlement. Or you decide on somewhere else to go.

Deciding on that as a decent course of action, you follow the path marked by his footsteps. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky at this point, it's important to start moving before dusk falls.

☆ ☆ ☆

You have been following the ghoul's path for about two days now, trailing behind him. Being just close enough to where you can see when he settles down for the night, taking it as a sign to wind down as well.

As day two starts to end you see him in the distance, he starts to set up his camp for the night so you do too. Two days completely filled with travel can really take a lot out of a person, you soon welcome the sleep that takes you.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Well, hello there little lady.” you hear a familiar voice say, spooking you awake. Your eyes open to be greeted by the face of your savior from a few days ago. He's standing over you, eyes boring into yours. “Now what do you think you're doin’. Following me around these past few days, thinkin’ I wouldn't notice.”

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just didn't know where to go… and I figured following behind you would be a safe bet. Just until we passed another settlement! That's all I swear!” You rush to speak, trying to rationalize your thinking to him.

“Is that so? Well I hate to break it to ya’ darlin’ but the next town is about a 3 day walk away,” he informs, standing back to his full height before stepping away. You groan, rubbing your face forcefully in frustration. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Sitting up, you lazily start to collect your things.

Taking your sweet time, you scoot towards where you had placed your pack for the night. Leisurely taking a sip of water and a bite of some jerky you snagged in town. Now you really had to think about what you were going to do. You doubt he would let you continue following him, and clearly he had some 6th sense for this type of thing so secretly doing it isn't in the cards.

“Get yer’ ass up! We're burnin’ daylight out here.” the ghoul yells. Confused, you whip your head around to look at him. He walks towards you.

“What?” you say stupidly.

“We need to get a move on,” he states, squatting down to meet your eye level. “If we move at your glacial pace we'll never get there.” he remarks sarcastically. Standing once again he goes to collect the last of his things, yelling to you again, “Now! and I ain't carryin’ any of your shit so don't even think about bitchin’ about it.”

With a huff, you stand dusting yourself off before grabbing your pack and trailing behind the ghoul.

☆ ☆ ☆

The first day of travel was mostly uneventful, walking, walking, and even more… walking. Though you quickly learn that he doesn't talk much. And he walks quite fast. While you were certainly an effective and efficient walker, you were still left in the dust.

One of his large strides was equivalent to about one and a half of yours. Walking behind someone for miles is not exactly the most engaging activity, but it gave you plenty of time to think. And oh boy did your mind have some things to say.

As you walk your mind starts to wander. ‘my view of him from behind wasn't all that bad,’ you think to yourself. ‘He walks with a confidence that would make anyone quake in their boots, including me. Just possibly in a different way.’

By the end of the day you were spent. Sitting down by the fire, the sun finally setting, eating whatever scraps had been left over in your bag. Not exactly the most exciting dinner in the world, but in this day and age boring and uneventful is a blessing.

It's l quite awkward, sitting across from him. He has such an intense gaze. The exquisite hazel of his eyes is something so uncommon, especially for a ghoul. He seems to be doing well for himself, as close as one can be in the wasteland that is. But with that it makes the feeling ever stronger.

The way he bores his eyes into you makes you feel like he can hear everything you have been thinking all day.

Looking at you like you're something to eat.

☆ ☆ ☆

The second day seems to be turning into much of the same. Infinitely more walking ahead of you. Though there is something different in the air today, something new that you can't quite place.

As you look past him you hope you can see anything different, anything new. At this point you would celebrate for a tumbleweed. Though there is still much to think about.

You come to realize how little you truly know about your traveling partner. I mean, you met him not even a week ago and now you've committed to a good bit more time with him and you don't even know his name. He hasn't spoken much to you since your journey started, or really at all that you can remember.

What a shame. His voice is something that continues to echo through you. His deep baritone with that saccharine accent. While he doesn't talk much, it really is a treat when he does. When it comes to the short conversations he has with you, you can't help but get giddy at the pet names he calls you.

Now that you think about it, he doesn't know your name either. Quickening your steps you catch up to walk next to him. Looking up you see him eye you suspiciously. Suddenly feeling a bit insecure you look back down. Who are you to think that he would want to speak with you? Well, what the hell, why not?

“Hey!” you say, attempting to sound casual, failing horribly. Sparing you some embarrassment, he doesn't seem to react at all, eyes directed forward. “I was just wondering, it's probably stupid, you don't have to answer obviously. But uh, you know what? Never mind. Sorry.”

Wow, really smooth. Admitting defeat you slow your pace back to your normal one, starting to fall behind him once again; that is, until a leather-clad hand finds itself on your hip. Rushing you to once again, meet his steps.

“Just spit it out babydoll, if we're gonna’ be stuck together, I suppose you can get a question or two,” he conceded. His hand pulls back to his side, a bit leisurely crossing the small of your back. Not that you were going to complain, a welcome shiver running through you.

“Well, I was going to ask your name.” That seems to have gotten his attention, his head turning so he can fully look at you now. His eyes roving over your face as if looking for a lie.

“My name? That's what you want to know?”

“I mean… yeah? I just thought if we were traveling together I should know what to call you,” you explain, once again feeling insecure. He turns his head forward once again, an unreadable expression taking over his face.

“Is that so?” Understanding this to be rhetorical, you stay silent, deciding instead to focus on walking.

Quite soon though, you find yourself stopping. While the sun is getting lower in the sky, normally you would have another hour or so until you would start to settle down. Confused, you turn to ask; He beats you to it.

“There's some decent huntin’ and some clean water 'round here. Stay and set up house.” Wordlessly you nod, placing your bag on the ground. You walk a few meters away, collecting some sticks for a fire as you hear his heavy footfalls go in the opposite direction.

☆ ☆ ☆

Just as the sun starts to set, and you finally get a decent fire going you see your partner walking towards you. Some sort of meat that he already seems to have butchered in his hand.

“Darlin’ would you cook this up,” He says, not really waiting for an answer, handing you the game. “I have got to get off my feet.” He goes and settles down, resting his back against a large rock in the general vicinity of the fire. Rummaging through his bag he grabs out a small vial, identical to the ones you snagged days previously. He attaches it to what looks to be a repurposed Jet inhaler, taking a hit.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Quit your starin’,” he hollers. Taking the hint, you avert your gaze and spear the meat onto an extra stick.

The meat roasts somewhat unevenly but who can complain at this point? While doing the mindless task you can't help but look up at him. Still leaning up against the rock his head is back now, dusty cowboy hat tipped over his eyes. He really is quite handsome. Ghoul's don't exactly get the best rap when it comes to anything, especially looks. You decide that people would change their minds if they met him.

Looking down again towards your work you decide it looks done enough. Separating just over half of it you place it onto a handkerchief, walking it over to him, placing it on his lap. He goes to move his hat back, giving you a nod before you go back to your spot across from him, the heat of his gaze following you.

Sitting down you prepare for another silent dinner. Digging into your food, you hear him clear his throat, causing you to look up. “Cooper,” he says, “Cooper Howard.” You smile, a real genuine smile, giving him your name as well. A small grin finds its way to his face. So subtle you almost missed it. There was truly something in the air today.

☆ ☆ ☆

Waking up the following day you feel like shit. Clean water has been pretty sparse causing your head to pound like a drum. Sure there was some clean water near here but even the idea of standing up sounded unappealing. Deciding it’s best to get it over with sooner rather than later you sit up.

You start to dig through your pack trying to find your canteen with no success. Confused, you look around, still no canteen. “Cooper?” you yell, not seeing him in the immediate vicinity either.

“What is it, doll?” He yells back, coming into your field of view, strutting as always.

“Oh thank the gods. For a second I thought you left me behind,” you sigh with relief.

“Now why would I do that?” A sarcastic tone infesting his speech. Rolling your eyes, you speak again.

“Have you seen my canteen anywhere? I can't find it. Thought I'd refill it with the clean water you were talking about last night,” you add, standing up and dusting yourself off. Cooper responds by reaching into the pocket inside his jacket, pulling out your canteen and shaking it. The sound of fresh water splashing inside.

Unscrewing the cap he walks up to you, so close you two are almost chest to chest. “Drink up,” he says, lifting it, waiting, like he expected something. And who are you to deny his expectations? Lifting your gaze from the container to the depths of his eyes you open your mouth obediently. He rewards you with a slight smirk, tipping the opening towards your lips.

Despite the increasing tension between you, you are genuinely thirsty. You gulp down the water desperately between heaving breaths. Seeing that you had gotten enough, he screws the cap back on, wiping away a leftover drop on your lip with his thumb.

“Well ain't you just a prize,” he remarks, so quietly you think he didn't mean for you to hear it. With an almost imperceptible smile on his face he steps away, “ You better start gettin’ a move on little lady. If we walk fast enough we can get to town by supper.” You watch for a second as he grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

Shaking the leftover tension you do the same, the idea of sleeping in a real bed tonight pushing you forward.

☆ ☆ ☆

Unfortunately, the heat truly has been overwhelming today. Notably, Cooper has slowed down just enough to match your pace today. Maybe you're truly starting to crack that hard outer shell he keeps himself in.

After about an hour of you fanning yourself, tying your hair up, then taking it down and putting it up in a different way you give up. Deciding that you would rather just be scorched than fiddle with your clothes or hair every fifteen seconds.

Soon after you come to this decision, Cooper silently lifts his hat off of himself, placing it on your head. The slight shade of the brim gives you some relief from the unending heat. Gratefully, you look up at him, he doesn't seem to think his action is anything of interest. His eyes still facing forward, face still pulled into a permanent scowl.

You look back down, “Thank you,” you say absentmindedly.

“Don't mention it,” he replies, his tone flat. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you for the rest of your travels. Every once and a while you would sneak an admiring glance or two. A few times you could swear you felt his gaze on you, but of course you have no proof of that.

☆ ☆ ☆

After several hours of travel you and Cooper find yourself in a rather nice little town. Nice for a town in the wasteland, that is, not that you can complain. Looking around you see several amenities, a decent looking saloon, a trading post, and a shabby motel being the ones that catch your eye.

You suspect that Cooper is more relieved than he is letting on, taking a deep breath, he allows himself a moment to take it in. “Come on now, let's get a room,” he says, stealing his hat off of you, placing it on his head once again. Both of you eager, you head to the desk of the motel.

Not caring to speak to anyone, as you two walk in Cooper silently drops a handful of caps onto the desk, grabbing a random key (and its spare) from the wall with the other hand as he does. You give a respectful nod to the person behind the desk before swiftly following him.

After passing a few rooms, your traveling partner looks down, matching the number on the key to the one on the door. Unlocking it, you are greeted by a could-be-better room. But who has time to complain? It's a place to rest your head and keep out of the elements.

“While all this is nice and all, I need a drink,” Cooper declares, setting down his bag and grabbing some caps out of one of the pouches.

“Ok, I think I'm going to get myself cleaned up here first, I'll meet you in a few.” making a sound of acknowledgement, Cooper leaves, tossing you the extra key, the sound of the lock clicking into place as the door closes.

Sure there wasn't anything fancy like running water here but they were kind enough to have a bottle of talc and a rag in the bathroom. Gratefully, you clean yourself up as much as you can before heading to the saloon.

☆ ☆ ☆

Walking in, you scan the room. It's packed with all kinds of people, all jabbering on with their own group, all sipping their alcohol of dubious origin, not that you can complain, you're about to do the same thing. Looking around again, closer this time. Looking for a specific ghoul. There he is.

He sat himself at a small booth, a round table in front of him. An empty glass -presumably his own- set atop. His legs are spread lazily, the brim of his hat creating a shadow over his eyes. It truly is despicable how beautiful he is.

Snapping yourself out of what is probably a desperate looking stare, you head over to the bar. You dig out enough caps from your pockets for two of whatever cheap whiskey you could get your hands on. “Two of whatever's cheapest,” you say leaning over the bartop, dropping enough caps for both, plus tip, on the counter. Nodding, the barkeep collects two glasses, pouring with a rather heavy hand, before handing them to you and snatching the caps.

You look over to where Cooper is once more; he's looking at you now, an intense indescribable air around him. You fight to not smirk at the fact that you caught him staring, you grab the drinks and head over to his table, challenging him with your continued eye contact. “Now where have you been all my life?” you hear an unfamiliar whiny voice say. Instantly your mood is ruined, with a scowl you turn towards the voice. It belongs to a plain looking man, a much too confident smirk on his face.

“As far away from you as I could manage,” you quip, rolling your eyes and making your way to your table. Hearing him get up from his chair, following in your direction you turn to face him again. “I'm here with someone don't even try,” you warn, though of course he doesn't take the message.

“Well I don't see him ‘round here,”

“You sure you don't?” You hear that familiar accented voice say behind you while wrapping his arm around your waist. Cooper stares down the man in front of you.

“A ghoul?” the man says, looking up towards him briefly before continuing his eye contact with you. “I can fuck you better than a goddamn ghoul I'll promise you that. You make that switch I'll show you a good time,” the man claims, stalking towards you with a dangerous leer on his face.

“Oh, I guarantee you can't,” Cooper gloats, flashing the gun at his side. Without a second thought he grasps your jaw firmly, turning your head to face him and he locks his lips with yours. Taken aback, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, but he quickly deepens the kiss. He runs his tongue on the seam of your lips. You quickly obey, opening your mouth to the welcome intrusion. With how intense the kiss became you couldn't help but let out a whimper, which he rewards with a firm squeeze of your waist.

You separate after what seems like an eternity, Cooper looking at the man in front of you. “Betcha’ believe it now don't ya'?” he smirks, leading you back to the booth. He grabs both of your drinks, setting them down on the table before sitting down. Feeling some confidence after what just transpired, you sit down on his lap, one of his legs settled between yours. Teasing a bit, you shift your hips against his a few times as if settling in.

“You keep doin’ that you're gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns, grabbing and handing you your drink before shooting back his own. With a smile you lean back, resting against him.

“I'm ok with trouble,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. Making a sound of contentment, Cooper runs his hand up your thigh, squeezing as his hand trails close to where you truly need him. You let out an unintentional whine at this, attempting to cover it up with a hefty gulp of your drink.

“Are you know? Well trouble is what I got darlin’,” he claims, bouncing his leg that you are perched on. His thigh rubbing deliciously on you. “Just say the word.” Finding all the sensations to be far too much you give in to his teasing. Rocking your hips back on him again you bring your lips to his neck, kissing up slowly, ending on his jaw.

“Please.”

Releasing a satisfied groan he gives you a relatively chaste kiss compared to earlier, he adjusts you and sets your feet on the ground, pulling you and him up to stand. “Lead the way pretty girl,” he purrs, delivering a swift smack to your ass as you scramble to get to your room.

☆ ☆ ☆

As soon as the door is closed and locked behind you two, you are forced against a wall. Clearly attempting to keep some sort of control over himself Cooper takes a deep breath. “Darlin’ I'm serious, you ain't gettin’ rid of me after this. You sure you want this? just say so and I’ll leave.” The pathetically desperate look in his eyes makes you even more eager to give him your answer

“Please Coop, I need you.”

Not needing any further confirmation, he once again locks his lips with yours. Opening your mouth right away, the kiss deepens quickly, both of you desperate to get a taste of each other. Cooper rips off his leather gloves, needing to feel you on him directly. That still not being enough, he paws at your top roughly, pushing it up. Parting for a moment he pulls it over your head, unclasping and removing your bra just after.

“Well ain't you the prettiest little thing,” he breathes, running his hands up your body to cup your tits. Stooping down, he sucks a dark bruise into the side of one, looking satisfied with himself as he does so.

“Coop,” you whine, starving for more. He falls completely to his knees now, delicately taking off your boots, eye contact steady.

He next moves to unbutton your jeans. He moves frustratingly slow, clearly enjoying your huffs of annoyance. Pulling off your pants and underwear in one, he grabs your hips harshly, pushing them into the wall. Without delay, he places your thighs over his shoulders, diving into your core like it's his last meal. He runs his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly before releasing. Desperate for more, he plunges his tongue inside you once again.

The sudden intrusion forces a deep groan out of you. In need of a perch, you wrap your hand harshly around the back of his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. “You are just about the sweetest thing I've ever tasted,” he coos, placing a messy kiss on your inner thigh.

“Cooper, please. I need you,” you beg, desiring everything he can give you.

“Well I can't say no to that, can I?” he jokes, wrapping your legs around him as he stands. Holding you by your waist he makes his way to the bed. He swiftly tosses you atop, you bounce slightly, watching as he stalks towards you with an indescribable hunger. The heat of his stare intense, you desperately clench around nothing.

Kneeling on the bed now, Cooper runs his fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them. Slowly, he works a single finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out. “Fuck- Coop,” you moan, blinded by pleasure. He works another finger in, continuing the same pace, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot every time. Working you open, preparing you for what was next.

“Good girl, so desperate for me, just a bitch in heat.” Lacking the proper brain function to respond, you whimper at his comment. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Oh you like that don't you? You like being my needy little thing. The little slut I get to use.” his pace increases, fingers rubbing immaculately inside of you. The low buzz at the bottom of your stomach beginning to bloom, your hips unconsciously bucking down to meet his thrusts.

“Please, please please,” you beg, not quite knowing what you're begging for.

“I gotcha’ doll. Let go,” he assures, moving his thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. As if commanded, you let go right away. The pressure inside of you bursting with a moan, hips bucking wildly out of your control. Clenching desperately around his fingers. “That's it… that's my girl.” Your body comes down after a few seconds more, thighs twitching with the residual energy. Cooper delicately removes his fingers from you, a small whimper of overstimulation coming from you.

Placing them in his mouth, he laps up any of you he can get. “Sweet as honey, you are,” he teases. Letting out a breathy laugh at his comment, you fist your hand on his collar, pulling him in. The kiss is passionate, tasting yourself on him only spurs you on further. Your other hand trails down his body, finding the tent in his pants you give a teasing rub. His hips stutter forward briefly, making you smile into the kiss.

Your nimble fingers undo the button on his pants, the zipper following. Breaking the kiss you look up at him, silently asking for permission. Giving you a short nod, Cooper further pushes himself into you, bordering on grinding at this point. With a grin you take him out of his pants. You give a few experimental tugs, feeling the weight of him in your palm. His hips stutter again, “You better quit your teasin’ ‘fore I make you.” As enticing as that sounds, you listen. You rub him against you a few times before lining him up with your entrance.

Slowly, he starts to push in, your heat inviting him in. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, pausing for a moment. “I'm sorry baby, you just feel so good.” Pushing in farther, he bottoms out. He grinds into you, desperate to get as deep as he can.

“Please, Coop, please move,” you whimper out.

“You are so pretty when you beg. You will be the death of me darlin’,” he says, pulling out about halfway before slamming back in. He quickly sets a brutal pace, hips slamming into you quickly and harshly. The low buzz in your stomach quickly returns, every ridge of him rubbing deliciously inside of you. It's not long before you become a puddle of whines and moans, the low buzz bursting once more, stars exploding behind your vision.

His pace does not falter, his hips still moving at the same brutal pace. In fact, he finds this the perfect opportunity to start rubbing quick circles on your clit. Anything he can do to get you to go, needy to see it again.

“Come on now, you can do it one more time for me can't you?” not believing it can happen so soon again, you shake your head, pathetic whines falling from your lips. “Yes you can, come on. I'll follow right behind. One more for me, pretty girl,” he assures, his tone starting to sound as whiny as yours. The next one comes up faster than the others, beginning already so close to the precipice.

“Fuck, Coop im going to-”

“I know sweetheart, let go, come for me.” Your body takes that command wholeheartedly, you lock your legs around his hips, forcing him deeper as you fall over your precipice, his pace truly faltering, thrusts now short and sloppy. “Fuck, darlin’ im gonna’,” he attempts to say.

“I know,” you say between whimpers of his name. Before long he joins you in bliss, filling you to the brim.

He rests his head on your shoulder briefly, pulling out after a moment and righting himself in his clothes. Rolling over onto the bed moments after. Cooper tiredly pulls you against him, not a care in the world at the moment. To be honest you didn't either. The Rad-Away would just have to wait.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #fallout fanfic #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x f!reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul fanfic #cooper howard smut

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matryosika · 1 year

Text

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth.

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?”

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway.

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?”

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”.

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”.

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished.

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind.

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”.

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”.

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung.

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”.

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”.

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to.

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder.

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back.

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards.

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees.

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”.

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you.

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”.

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches.

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”.

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

��I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit.

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations.

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it.

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it.

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?”

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”.

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”.

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you.

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time.

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up.

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable.

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there.

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you.

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?”

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast.

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile.

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #han smut #jisung smut #bangchan smut

2K notes · View notes

nmakii · 7 months

Note

i saw u were taking requests! uhmmm, i had this thought just recently; you know how in the v first ep of hh where alastor kinda runs his fingers up his staff thingie? well, That but him doing it to reader instead teehee 🤭

YOUR SWEET RADIO DEMON!

— on a date with alastor, he gets unusually possessive and jealous

— I SAW THIS ANDIMMIDEITYYL HAD TO WRITE IT

as infamously known by hotel residents and staff, alastor loves to invade others’ personal space; pulling them uncomfortably close, touching their faces— it’s the sheer entertainment to see them writhe uncomfortably under his harsh touch, knowing that he could make them disappear right now if he wanted to.

but, he especially likes to touch you, his dear. your puffy baby cheeks, your big eyes, your resting pout on those pretty lips; you’re simply just adorable, he could eat you up!

he has to admit, you’re also divinely gorgeous, what if other overlords try to steal you away from him? of course, no one would even compare to him, much less dare to… but, he must be cautious in case some egotistical sinner thinks that they’d be able to court you.

he’d thought about marking you, perhaps on the neck, but doing that would include unsightly deeds that he wouldn’t want to indulge in…

so then, he decided to do the next best thing; have you accompany him as a companion through his day. keeping you with him as he does his overlord duties, an arm safely around your waist. and, in return, he spoils you with lovely gifts of top-notch quality.

of course, there are better solutions to satiate his possessive behavior… but, this is the one that both of you find most enjoyable.

on one of these days, alastor followed you inside as the two of you went on a date to lu-lu world, taking you on all of the thrilling rollercoasters. to be quite honest, he had a fun time, albeit all the tacky circus decor throughout the place.

while at one of the game booths, you threw the bean bag, hoping to score some points. alastor used his shadow to pull it into the hole, making absolute sure you win.

the gamemaker’s jaw fell in awe, never usually having anyone beat the game. “lovely game, my dear! i believe there is a prize that was won?” alastor looked at the demon gamemaker who hurriedly brought a large lamb-like plushie, styled after charlie’s bodyguard, dazzle.

after all of that, the red skies of hell grew dark as nightfall came. you and alastor walked to the exit before you ran into a specific man.

“oh..! what are you doing here?” lucifer asked, slightly pointing his staff towards you, his face contorting to annoyance as he looked at alastor.

“alastor and i are on… um…” you wandered off, a little embarrassed to explain. “we’re on a date, of course!” alastor announced as he pulled closer to him by your shoulder, his fingers moving behind you to dance on your skin.

your posture straightened, subconsciously trying to move away from the ticklish feeling moving itself up on your spine. “i’d say the better question is what is a man such as yourself doing here alone, hm?” alastor glared down at him.

“well, for one— i own the place.” lucifer frowned back at alastor. “very well, then. we’ll see you around, i suppose!” alastor sighed, pulling you immediately away from lucifer and not even giving him the chance to bid farewell.

as alastor pulled you away, you saw his smile getting strained. “are you ok? why were you—“ “what was that about, my love? why did you not tell him yourself that we were on a date?” you asked before alastor interrupted, the radio static over his voice getting louder the more irritated he got.

your eyes avoided his as you searched your mind for an answer. “ah… well…” you bit your lip, stalling yourself as you came up with a reason.

“is it because you’d rather go on a date with him instead?” he snarled, his eyes clearly frustrated. “would you rather be with that lonely man? all he ever does is make rubber ducks!” he sighed, his jealousy ruining his composure.

“what?!” you frowned. “no… it’s just that… it’s a little embarrassing to explain things to other people. i also got a little flustered because i didn’t expect to see him here… i love you, alastor, promise…” you pouted, leaning your head on his chest

he sighed, satisfied with your response as he put a hand on your head. “good. because you’re mine, dear. don’t ever forget that. and, if you do…” alastor started before his hand once again moved to your spine, two fingers tickling your skin as they danced their way to the nape of your neck.

“agh, stop that!” you whined. “that tickles… don’t worry, i’m all yours.” you shook your head, baffled by the extent of his jealousy. “very good… i love you too, my dear.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hasbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months

Note

Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc x y/n #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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bg-brainrot · 7 months

Text

Unraveling Plan Meet Immeasurable Insecurity (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Teen

Summary: Tav tries their damnedest to propose, only to be rebuffed by Astarion at every single turn.

Tags: Astarion POV - alternating w/Rogue!Tav, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Mild Hurt/Comfort, insecurities

A/N: based on a request from a kind anon on Tumblr– "Would you ever consider writing a one-shot where Tav tries to propose to Astarion but keeps failing multiple times. But Tav doesn’t give up and raises the stakes higher and higher. Astarion will completely remain oblivious because he still has some self esteem issues (why would anyone want to marry him?) and is really confused why Tav is acting nervous around him."

I ended up taking it in a slightly different direction (based on the man’s self esteem issues as you pointed out, anon). Set an undetermined amount of years post BG3, post saving Karlach from Zariel, post-Lae’zel finishing the githyanki uprising so the gang's all here. I hope the kind anon still enjoys it!

Word count: ~5.6k

Astarion first has an inkling that something is the matter when you sneak away from him.

Odd, he thinks, watching your retreating back. Usually they invite me along for this sort of skulking about.

But he understands, better than most, what a bit of privacy could afford someone who hasn’t had any in so long. So he watches you leave, pretending all the while that he hasn’t noticed a thing. Best not embarrass them, of course.

He brushes off the incident as an anomaly– after all, you continue to be your usual self upon your return. Neither of you speak of your absence, and you seem rather pleased with yourself, so he is pleased for you.

The next time he notices something is off he grows a tad more worried.

This time you don’t disappear, but you do spend a concerning amount of time staring at his hands, expression pensive.

“Darling,” he starts. He quickly tucks his hands under the Elfsong table that you both sit at and leans forward. “What are you doing?”

You blanch at the question– an uncharacteristic reaction to be sure. “Oh,” you sound startled, as if you’ve been caught doing something quite naughty. “Nothing at all. Just wondering if you’d done anything new with your nails? They look… nice.”

It’s a lie, that much is clear to Astarion. But it’s not typical that you lie so poorly. And why should you lie? No matter, you look flustered and gods does he love it when you look flustered– it happens so rarely that he feels the need to truly relish it. “Don’t they?” he asks, flourishing his hands in front of you now. “How did you know? I dipped them in an essence of ooze to thoroughly moisturize them.”

“Really?” Your bewilderment almost brings a laugh out of him.

“Gods no, my dear,” he says, reaching out from under the table and for your hands. “You seem quite out of sorts. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you dismiss, staunchly avoiding eye contact with him.

Odd, he thinks again. Where is their usual daring now?

He’s forced to dismiss the thought as you flag down a waitress, ordering yourselves another bottle of wine.

Astarion becomes genuinely concerned when you return home late one night.

The two of you have grown comfortable together in your house, just on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, in a cozy corner of Rivington. The location allows you to continue your work with the guild, gives him plentiful access to any criminals that needed exsanguinating, and your former companions are never far.

It does mean that you will sometimes stay late in the city, working well into the sunlight hours– but you also know to send him a message on the days you stay out late. Otherwise your poor, beautiful vampire will waste away in worry.

“Where in the nine hells are they?” Astarion curses aloud on this particular dawning day. He’d tried sending a message to you, only to receive nothing back. He’d sent another to Shadowheart, again to silence. He considers trying someone less responsible like Karlach, when you finally burst through the front door.

“Oh! Astarion,” you say, surprise plain on your face. As if he wouldn’t be here, in your shared home no less, waiting for your arrival. “What are you still doing up?”

He watches you silently for a moment as you tuck something behind your back, straighten out uncomfortably. Then, with all of the annoyance he can muster, he rolls his eyes at you. “It’s lovely to see you too, my dear. It’s not as if I was worrying my gorgeous head off at the thought of you dead in some rank Baldurian gutter.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, shuffling around the room in a rather suspicious manner. “I lost track of time. I figured you would go to bed without me.”

Astarion can’t remember the last time he went to bed without at least knowing where you were. Even if he could, he suspects he really would rather not. “Darling, you know I need my warm-blooded lover by my side to enter my reverie. Besides, what could have possibly taken you so long?”

You hesitate, and something tugs at Astarion’s insides. He feels a sudden sense of fear, a dread that he may regret asking you this question.

What if you’re upset at him, and this was your way to maintain space? What if you’ve finally, rationally taken a look at your situation and determined that no, you’d really rather not love a monster like himself? Or worse, what if you’d found someone else, someone who could bask in the daylight alongside you? Gods, the idea sends his undead heart plummeting.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth to answer, he rescinds his question, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. I merely wanted to make sure you were alive. You’re looking as sprightly as ever, so I shall head to bed.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, heading to bed in a dramatic swirl and even more sensational thoughts.

He’s right, he knows it to his core. You’ve found someone else, someone who can give you the life he never could. More than anything he wishes he had the courage to confront you, especially as all of your odd behavior clicks into place.

They snuck off to find a lover.

They were staring at my hands in the hopes that they were someone else’s.

They stayed out late to relish in another’s company.

They’re aloof because they’re leaving me and it’s all a matter of time.

It’s as plain as day. How could he have been so very, very blind?

You had concocted a nice, simple plan.

It involved a ring, a smattering of your closest friends, and a particularly prickly vampire. Ideally, the plan ended with the vampire agreeing to marry you.

Gods. The idea thrills you as much as it scares you: you are actually going to propose to Astarion.

After years together, you and Astarion are practically already married. This is merely a formality in your mind. But of course, for a man like Astarion, it's a formality that means only the utmost effort must be put in.

But, as it always goes in your life, your nice, simple fell apart.

The problem you're finding is that, after weeks of preparation and secretive planning, the man is being oddly distant. Distant and dismissive. It's almost as if he knows something is afoot, and he's utterly determined to make sure it doesn't happen.

Five times now he has thwarted your attempts at a proposal.

"Astarion," you had started the first time. "Would you like to take a walk in the park with me tonight?”

The look he’d given you was equal parts wary and panicked. So much so that you thought maybe you’d misspoken. But his response was measured enough. “No, thank you, darling. I’m afraid I’m quite spent today.” He gave you a yawn to illustrate his point, and you dropped the subject for the night.

You had had to send a message to Shadowheart to call off the trail of poisonous flowers that your friends were laying out for your stroll.

The next time, you had tried being a bit more casual in your attempt.

“Would you enjoy a day at the spa, Astarion?”

Again, he gave you a look that confused you. Frightened face, hackles raised– his only response was, “Why, darling, do I look that ghastly to you?”

“You know that’s not what I–”

“No matter,” he’d waved you off. “I am afraid I’m busy today.”

You’d sent a message to Karlach, telling her that the reservation of Baldur’s Gate’s spa was no longer needed.

The third time, you’d called in some more magical help.

“Astarion, what do you say to a moonlit picnic atop the roof of the Elfsong? We haven’t had one in a while.”

Appalled– utterly and truly aghast is the only way to describe the face he’d made. The words that followed didn't make you feel better either. “And why would we do that again after such a long while?”

Your stomach had roiled, worry settling in at his tone. “I thought it would be a chance to reminisce together.” Your tone stayed light, your smile just as friendly.

“It’s far too cold to bother with reminiscing,” he’d said, glowering at you. Looking at the hard set of his jaw, this is when you’d begun to worry that you’d done something to upset him.

“Is everything alright?” you’d asked, reaching out for his arm.

“It’s fine,” he’d replied, curtly, retreating from your grasp. “I just don’t want to be colder than I already am.”

You’d sent a message to Gale, instructing him to call off the magical skywriting over the Elfsong.

For your fourth attempt, you knew you needed someone with a slightly more forceful personality– and to perhaps lean a little less romantic.

“Astarion,” you’d begun, inflecting your tone with just the right amount of panic. “Lae’zel’s found a flock of mephits along the beach of Wyrm’s Crossing. She needs our help.”

“Mephits?” he’d asked, looking at you cautiously. “In Wyrm’s Crossing?”

“Yes,” you’d replied, nodding hurriedly. “We need to go now.”

He’d clicked his tongue at you and shaken his head. “As if Lae’zel couldn’t crush them all with a single swing. Seems to me like she’s grown lazy after all of her heroics.”

“Astarion,” you’d chided. “You know she will incredibly cross at us if she finds out you declined to help.”

“I’ll survive,” he’d said, returning to the book on his lap, hands turning paler than usual in a tense vice grip. “Probably.”

After, you’d sent a message to Lae’zel, instructing her to do as she pleased with the stash of fireworks on the beach.

The fifth time you’d grown genuinely, truly worried that something was wrong with Astarion because, by the gods, the man had refused to commit crime with you.

After so many failed attempts, you’d figured that you needed to go back to the roots of your relationship– to a simpler time when petty theft gave you some time alone together.

“I heard a rumor through the guild,” you’d said offhandedly over dinner. “A newly minted noble in the Upper City has quite the horde of wealth and very little security. What do you say that we pay them a visit, perhaps ‘relieve’ them of some of their wealth?”

Astarion had faltered, clearly tempted by your offer. But after nearly two weeks of avoiding going anywhere with you, he didn’t outright agree either. “And why would you need me for this particular job?”

The question had taken you aback. You’d never needed a reason to invite him along for crime of all things. It made you near certain that he knew what you were up to and that something about it was distasteful to him. Sweet hells, it made you nervous. “I, erm… well, I could use an extra pair of hands to carry it all, I suppose?”

“I could lend you my pack then,” he’d said, narrowing his eyes at you.

Why is he trying to avoid me? Have his feelings changed? you’d thought in fear. Aloud, you’d only doubled down. “Well, the company might be nice. And you know that your lockpicking is, somehow, better than mine.”

“I thought you said security was sparse,” he’d countered.

“Sparse doesn’t mean nonexistent.”

“Not much of a challenge then, is it?”

You had wanted to scream into the astral plane. Wanted to flip the table over his pretty pale face. Wanted to tell him, ‘You know what, I didn’t want to marry such a stubborn vampire anyway!’ – but you did none of those things. Because you love this man and, even when he’s being difficult, you do want to marry him.

So you had gritted your teeth and said, “Very well then. I shall borrow your pack.”

You’d sent a message to Wyll later to call off his father’s help with the upper city guards.

For your sixth attempt, you decide you first need to reconvene with your council– also known as your former companions.

When you’d first met with them at the start of this whole ordeal, you’d snuck away from Astarion. It made you feel a bit guilty, sneaking around, hiding things from him, but the entire proposal was meant to be a fun surprise– one you are starting to suspect is a misguided effort.

You profess as much aloud now that you’re meeting up with the five of them again, seated around the table in Jaheira’s kitchen. “Maybe there is no sixth attempt. Maybe I’ve overestimated the love between us.”

“Don’t say that,” Wyll says, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly in reassurance. “Your love is strong. And together we will find a way to make this proposal work.”

You smile up at the man, one always so willing to believe in the power of a good love story. You’re almost sorry to be disappointing him– and the smut peddlers. Really, you’re sorry to be disappointing all of your friends. Each of your companions had been eager to help you in your endeavor, in their own ways, of course.

Gale had congratulated you prematurely at first, misunderstanding your Sending spell. But when you’d clarified, asked him for his help, he’d only been incredibly enthused, arriving the very next day, offering all manner of suggestions.

Karlach, for her part, was only ever excited, practically bouncing off the walls that two of her best mates may potentially tie the knot. At the low, low price of allowing her to be your person of honor, she was entirely at your disposal.

Lae’zel had been confused initially. In her mind, you were already committed to a life together. What was the purpose of this… proposal? Of marriage? But when you’d explained to her a bit, she’d been curious– and excited at the potential of catching Astarion off guard.

Shadowheart had seemed surprised when you’d asked. You weren’t already married? Alas, she’d gotten the plot of one of the many bawdy novels about you confused with real life. No matter, she was happy to help.

And, well, Wyll– when he returned from Avernus he’d been disappointed that you weren’t at the very least engaged yet. It was no shock or awe to him when you visited him for help. In fact, he had only given you a wry smile and said, “I knew you would be the one to cave.”

As for Jaheira, well, she was allowing you to use her house as a headquarters, but had proclaimed early, “Invite me to the wedding and I shall be there, but until then– well, this is for you lot to figure out.”

And gods were you having trouble figuring it out.

“I don’t know, Wyll. I’m worried Astarion may never revert back to normal at this rate,” you say, shaking your head.

“Was he ever normal?” Shadowheart asks with a soft snort. “Besides, he can be awfully dense at times, you may just need to ask him outright.”

“There is not a single realm in which Astarion says yes to a simple proposal,” you say, brows furrowing. “You know he’d want something flashy.”

Gale raises a finger sagely before countering, “Well, my friend, sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. I’m inclined to agree that you may just need to pop the question.”

“What if…” you trail off, your worries from the past weeks bogging down your thoughts. Somehow, despite everything you’ve been through, this seems to be your toughest challenge yet. “Do you think he knows what I’m doing and is simply too afraid to reject me?” you ask the group, turning to each of them with pleading eyes. You’re honestly not sure you can take his rejection, especially after the last five rebuffs.

“Not a chance in the hells,” Karlach answers. “I think he’s being a right idiot, actually. And if he knew what was happening, he may even say yes before you can so much as get the question out.”

“Really?” Your mood lightens a bit, her harsh words slashing through the hardened doubts that have settled over your heart.

“Is it any surprise to us that Astarion is incapable of seeing the truth before him?” Lae’zel says, rolling her eyes. “Such sharp skills, yet completely dull in the face of our efforts.”

“Again, we may just need a softer touch,” Shadowheart suggests, tilting her head at you.

You’re not sure what a softer touch might be, and, from the silence that follows, neither are any of your companions.

Your resident wizard is the first to break the silence. “I could always create a simulacra–”

“Gale,” Wyll interjects, politely. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s much softer.”

“Right,” Gale says, leaning back in his seat.

Another long moment of silence and you’re truly starting to feel defeated. You hang your head a bit, thoughts filled with the image of a certain beautiful, pale elf’s mouth curling at you in distaste, forming a pronounced ‘no.’

“Soldier,” Karlach starts. You look up to see her smirking at you. “If he won’t willingly join you anywhere. I think we both know what you need to do.”

–

They are going to sink the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.

For nearly two weeks now, Astarion has successfully avoided his lover’s attempts to get together in a public space– likely what they saw was the best, most civil way to dispose of him. But, foolish as it is to cling to something like a withered love, Astarion doesn’t want this relationship to end.

Perhaps, if I can do this for long enough, they will change their mind, he thinks. Gods, that sounds pathetic, even for him.

Astarion was running out of excuses, and, worse yet, running out of willpower. What is the use in fighting the inevitable? he thinks, as he walks down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. It’s a moonlit night, and he’s on the prowl for a criminal to bite– he needs something, anything to distract him from his woes.

He turns the corner, on high alert.

Then again, a more selfish part of him counters. Why shouldn't you fight for your love? They were the first good thing to ever happen to you in this damned world.

That’s when he spots them– the-first-good-thing-to-ever-happen-to-him is hiding behind a bush directly before him, facing another alleyway. There are very few reasons that they would be out at this time of night, in the middle of this particular street of Baldur’s Gate. While they could be on a mission for the guild, he had last seen them at home, reading by the fire. It’s clear that they followed him, are waiting to ambush him.

Is this it? he thinks, eyes narrowing. His chest hurts, more than ought to be possible given his lack of beating heart. Is this how desperate they are to be rid of me? May as well go out with flair, I suppose…

Astarion sneaks forward, careful to remain outside of your field of view. He settles behind you in the darkness of the bush, watching you as you look out for him. Despite the ache in his heart, the clenching of his stomach, he can’t help but think of how lovely you look under the moonlight– of how lucky he has been to have had you.

If this truly is it, he thinks. I can’t wallow or cry. I shall hold my head high and consider myself fortunate to have met them. To have loved them. At least, he hopes he’s capable of such a performance. Because right now, quietly crouched next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to beg you to reconsider.

But no. He refuses to look pathetic– not after the life he has lived.

So, after waiting with you for a few minutes, he leans forward into your personal space and asks, “Darling, what are you doing?”

Astarion is ready for your instincts to kick in, so when your knife is drawn in a flash and you’re lunging for him, he’s easily dodging backward, holding his hands up in peace. “Now, now darling, I thought we were past the knives at throats.”

“Astarion?” you ask, startled. “Sweet hells, you haven’t snuck up on me like that in years.”

“Yes, well,” he says, avoiding your eyes now. He’s surprised by how much gazing into them has weakened his composure already. “You also haven’t looked so utterly distracted by your own thoughts in years either.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his words. “I thought…”

Yes, dear, what did you think? he wants to ask, to catch you in the act with a cruel moment of revelation, to hurt you as much as you’re about to hurt him. But when he brings his eyes back to yours, he knows he can’t do that. While he’s still capable of maiming, killing, all manner of atrocities– he cannot hurt you. So he only says, “I was out hunting and I saw you hiding in a bush. What are you doing here?”

“I–” you falter, seemingly torn. Perhaps you’re having second thoughts. Perhaps this is his chance to keep you from breaking his cold, crumbling heart.

“Do you need assistance, dear?” he asks, ready and willing to show how much he would do for you. Anything, honestly, if it means you’ll stay by his side.

“Gods, I keep mucking this all up,” you mutter, head hanging in uncharacteristic defeat. “Maybe Shadowheart was right.”

What did that damned cleric do now? Is she the one you’re leaving him for? He’s about to make a reflexive, snide comment about her veritable barnyard of animals, but stops when he sees you sheath your blade. When you wipe a hand over your face in frustration.

Oh. You’re miserable. You wouldn’t look like this normally. You would never be this nervous, this stressed to see him– not unless his very presence had turned toxic. “I should go, shouldn’t I?” he asks, throat tight.

“No!” you say, reaching out a hand to keep him from leaving. Your grip is tight, painful in its panic, but he doesn’t complain. How could he when you look like this?

More than anything, he wants this worry that lines your face to fade, the jittery movement of your hands to abate. So maybe it’s up to him to spark the beginning of the end… “Did you… have something you wanted to tell me?” he asks, swallowing down the fear that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I…” you gulp, bringing your second hand to join the first, loosening your grip. You raise your head, and he sees the tumult in your gaze. At the very least, you must care about him somewhat to stress yourself this much. “Astarion, please don’t be upset.”

How could he not? But, somehow, he manages a sad smile at you anyway. “As if I could ever be upset with you, my love.”

Then you drop to a knee in front of him.

–

“Astarion,” you say, voice shaking a bit with nerves. “I had wanted this to be something lovely. Something meaningful. But… I guess you love ruining plans, don’t you?”

“What,” he breathes out, confusion plain on his face. His red eyes dart between yours, as if trying to process a sudden, large shift. You suppose it would be a shift in your relationship, even if you were practically married already. If he even decided to say yes.

You release his arm with one hand, reaching into your side pouch for the small square box that’s waiting for you. Fingers less dexterous than usual, you fumble over clutching it, opening it single handedly. You’re not used to looking this foolish, and you can feel a heat over your cheeks, an anxious shake to your movements.

But before too long the box is open, a shining platinum band resting inside.

It looks like everything you’d hoped for in the moment– its inlaid red rubies catch the moonlight just beautifully. You’d spent weeks agonizing, wondering if you had picked the right one, imagining what it might look like were it to be placed on his perfect pale finger. Here and now, with this man standing before you, you know it would look exquisite.

“Astarion,” you start again, courage returning to you with that knowledge, some of the words you’d prepared coming back to your mind. “These past years together have been the best years of my life. You’re my best friend, my dual blade, and I love you more than I can even say. I don’t know what our future holds, but I would consider myself lucky to walk towards it with you at my side. So…” You pull the ring from the box, holding it up to the man you love with a smile. “Would you, Astarion Ancunín, do me the honor of marrying me?”

Astarion Ancunín, despite years of quick quips and sultry words, seems to be frozen in place, unable to speak.

You’re used to these moments, when he needs to process, but you’re not used to them when you’re on one knee, waiting for a response. “Astarion?” you hazard.

“You’re…” he says, face slack, mouth barely moving. “You’re proposing to me?”

It’s not a no, but it’s certainly not the reaction you’d be hoping for. “Erm, yes. Is that… distasteful to you?” You can feel your hand recoil somewhat, your smile slip.

His expression remains blank, lips slightly agape as he continues to take in the scene before him. “You– you don’t have a new lover? You’re not planning to leave me?”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to be flabbergasted. “Astarion, what are you talking about?”

The sigh that leaves him then could collapse a small house. “Sweet hells,” he says, face and body relaxing. “I thought… I thought that you were acting odd, like– like–”

“Like I was trying to surprise you with the magnificent proposal you deserve?” you respond, suddenly understanding his behavior and growing a smidge annoyed. “Like I didn’t want to propose to you behind some damned bushes?”

Astarion looks around, as if just now realizing where you are, what is happening. “Yes, now that you mention it, like that.”

You want to be upset, but then the man above you laughs. It’s light, breathy, and utterly relieved. “You were really worried, weren’t you?”

“Oh my sweet love, I was about ready to jump into an Oubliette,” he says, shaking his head ruefully.

“You thought I would leave you, just like that?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern. Maybe you should have just proposed in your living room.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he says, looking down at you with a tinge of sadness in his smile. “I doubt that this was the life you were looking for, darling. As a matter of fact, are you… sure about this?” He eyes the ring in your hand, all but forgotten in his confusion.

You proffer it again, raising your hand a bit higher this time. “The only life I’m looking for is the one with you in it, Astarion. I am quite sure.”

His scarlet eyes dart between yours questioningly, and you merely stare back, staunch in your words and intent. “Even if I’m a fool that forced your hand– left you kneeling in the dirt?”

“We’ve done worse things on dirt, Astarion,” you say, smiling widening at the memory of the first time he’d told you he loved you. “If you’d like me to get out of the dirt though, you could answer my question: Would you marry me?”

Once more, he looks between your eyes, this time his are wide, open– daring to believe that his darkest fears are just that. Fears. Ones that you would vanquish without a second thought. How could he have been so blind to that. Moisture pools at the corner of his eyes at the realization.

So he drops to his knees, reaching for your face with his hands. In a single movement, he’s pulled you toward him, captured your lips with his with an undeniable longing. A longing to hold you in his hands for as long as he is able. A longing to taste your lips on his, each and every day. A longing to never be without you, to be yours until death do you part.

You respond to his kiss in kind, lips pressing against him with your own pent up longing. He distantly hears the ring’s box fall to the floor, feels your hand brush past his ear to clutch his hair. You kiss him like he’s the answer to every question you’ve ever had and he feels a small tear run down his face as his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Gods he would never tire of kissing you.

I ought to respond, he thinks in the back of his head, as he moves his lips against yours.

Is this not response enough? he argues, not wanting to break apart from you, for even a moment.

No, it wouldn’t do to have any confusion, not after the past two weeks.

So, before he can forget himself, he pulls back from you, far enough to look into your eyes. “That was a ‘yes’ in case that wasn’t evident.”

You laugh, short and breathless. “Oh good,” you say, leaning back further and bringing up the ring between you. “Then may I?”

Astarion removes his left hand from your face, holds it out to you with a large, gleeful smile. “You may.”

You slip the ring onto his finger. It fits well, matches his eyes, looks positively sumptuous– as always, you know him too well. “It’s stunning,” he says, angling it one way then another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, smiling at the sight. “And that you didn’t catch me when I tried to sneak it past you.”

The vampire laughs, shaking his head free of his own silly thoughts. “I smashed your plans into tiny little pieces, didn’t I?”

You don’t say yes, but the look on your face is evidence enough. “I’ll tell you all about what you missed out on later. For now, we should, erm, go get our friends.”

“Go get our friends?” he asks, wondering what in the hells they have to do with all of this.

“Yes,” you say, planting a kiss on his hand before moving to get up. “They’re all in place for another one of these ill fated plans.”

“Ah,” he says, following you up. Then, realizing what you’ve said, he looks at you with concern. “Just what were you in this bush for?”

To your credit, you look abashed. But your words do nothing to lessen his concern. “Seeing as you were refusing to come with me, well, anywhere, we had to pivot our strategy.”

“Darling,” he starts, his tone a deceptive sweetness. “Whatever does that mean?”

“It was Karlach’s plan,” you say, as a means of explanation.

“Oh good. I’m sure whatever it was was perfectly sane then.”

Scratching at the back of your neck, you finally admit the plan, “I was going to give them a signal when you passed. Gale was going to make an illusory double of me getting kidnapped by the rest of them in disguise, then hopefully you would take chase to go save me, they would lose you just as you got to the Elfsong where I would be waiting…”

Astarion looks at you sharply, his mouth a disapproving line. “Really?”

“In retrospect, I can see the flaws in the plan,” you say, palms open. “But in my defense, I was getting desperate. Either way, we ought to go get them. Karlach seemed just about ready to explode from hiding that long.”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “This is what we get for having such imbeciles for friends.”

“Funny,” you start, holding out a hand to him. “They said the same about you.”

He takes your hand with an exaggerated eye roll, but can’t help the smile that comes over his face at the feeling of your fingers twining with his. “It’s a shame you had to resort to them for help.”

“I really needed it. You know, I have killed more people than I can count, but you have been my most challenging mark by far,” you say, dramatically as you begin to walk down the alleyway.

“Worse than the giant, world-ending brain?”

“Oh yes.”

The two of you walk in silence for a few steps before Astarion feels compelled to say one last thing before reaching your friends. “Darling, I truly am sorry I ruined all of your plans, but I must ask: Please don’t try to surprise me like this again.”

The expression on your face deflates a little, and you say, “I thought you would like something grand?”

He brings your hand up to his lips for a soft, reassuring peck. “Normally, yes. But, I love you so very much. I’m afraid it clouds my usually impeccable judgment.”

You don’t comment on his judgment, instead focusing on his proclamation of love. “I love you too. So, hopefully, there isn’t a second proposal.”

“One can only hope,” Astarion says with a laugh. “And, if there is, perhaps it’s my turn to do the proposing?”

“Love, if you surprise me, I may kill you,” you say, plainly.

“A risk I’ve always been willing to take, my dear,” the man replies, pulling on your hand. “Now, come. I think I can spot Wyll’s peeking eye from here.”

Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk toward your waiting friends, ready to tell them the good news.

It wasn’t the grand proposal you had envisioned. Nor was it even a particularly romantic one. But, somehow, it was still perfect, still loving, still the beautiful new beginning to the rest of your lives together.