#yet they’re still so similar. they both love too much. they both make the same mistakes that negatively affect those around them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part eleven

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you get the short end of the stick, but it’s worth it.

a/n: okayyyyyyyyy shit’s getting heavy, folks, but things are chaaaaaaanging. hope you’re ready 😈

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, a lot of angst, a lot conversation, canon-typical violence and injuries (heavy on both), drinking, Joel has more feelings, I love Tess.

if you haven’t already, please read the announcement/follow up I posted about giving Liv a name.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters✨

Tess likes to talk. You don’t mind; it makes the walk back much faster, and the QZ is within sight much sooner with the easy conversation between you.

She talks about how she found Joel and Tommy, how they’d been stuck together ever since Kentucky. She mentions her husband, Nate, and you offer your sympathy — which she brushes off — and tell her about Dean.

“With a baseball bat?” she repeats, an almost incredulous look on her face. “That baseball bat?”

“Yep,” you laugh, hefting the thing in your hand. “Kept me alive this long. All those years of softball finally paid off.”

Tess tells you what she was starting to build in Baltimore, and you can’t help but grin. The two of you are more similar than you thought. You return her stories in kind, details of your own ventures. “There are lots of ways in and out of the Boston QZ,” you tell her, “you just have to know where to look.”

You don’t ask about her and Joel, and she doesn’t offer the information. He hangs back the entire time, a good twenty feet behind you, rifle slung over his shoulder. You chance a glance back once or twice, mostly making sure he’s still there, and his hard gaze makes you freeze every time.

This definitely isn’t the reunion you’d imagined. Honestly, you’re not quite sure what you had envisioned, but this sure as hell ain’t it. Fuck, why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?

You lead them through as quietly as possible, using a spot on the wall where the bricks have been cracked, leaving footholds behind for those who know to look for them. You send Tess up first, then Joel, and he waits at the top, grabs you by the arm and hauls you up the last foot. You open your mouth to say thank you, but he’s already released you, turned away yet again.

All right, so this is how it’s going to be.

Through the top level of the building, down the ladder into the alley. You stash your bat and your bag in the same place, tell Tess and Joel to leave their guns there, too. Joel’s reluctant, but Tess smacks his shoulder and he does as you say, that hard look on his face the entire time.

Your boots splash in the same puddle they had last night. Tess is close behind you as you head out of the alley and skirt down the next building. A few more alleyways, heads ducked, avoiding soldiers and civilians alike, and you head down another alleyway, waiting for the coast to clear before shoving a dumpster aside, revealing a hole in the bricks that leads inside the empty warehouse.

“How did you—” Joel starts to ask, but cuts himself off.

You hold your arm out, gesturing him inside. “Quickly.”

The opposite end of the warehouse faces the gate almost directly. The windows on the lower level are covered with newspaper, shattered in some places, and you peer through one of the missing panes. Beside the main gate, there’s an office, of sorts. Where they take any survivors that make it to the gate, test them, either put them in the system or put a bullet in their heads.

“Wait here.” You prop open the window, slide through the gap and pop back up the other side. No one pays you any mind as you head towards the office, leaning up on your toes to peer through the little window in the door. Nick’s standing inside, staring at one of the old computer screens, and when you tap on the glass, he nods.

You turn back, waving at Tess. “C’mon.” They’re quick about it, and you push the door open once they’re close, following them both inside. Nick stares at Joel for a moment, meets your eyes over his shoulder. You try to school your face neutral, but you can’t tell if you get away with it or not.

“In there,” Nick says, the words blunt, and points down the hallway, to one of the smaller rooms. The office used to be a doctor’s office, you think; one main lobby, a bunch of smaller exam rooms down the hall. Joel and Tess do as he says, and you start to follow behind, but feel Nick’s hand on your shoulder. It makes you pause, and you look at him, turning beneath his hand.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice low. “Joel.”

You repeat yourself to him a third time. “Does it matter?”

Nick’s brow creases. “Of course it fucking matters, Liv.”

You shake your head. “Just process them, please? Then you can throw me in lockup and this’ll all be over.”

The look on his face says he doesn’t believe you, but you push his hand off your shoulder, step into the room where Tess is standing, Joel sitting in one of the chairs, elbows on his knees. “This is Corporal Nick Cowan,” you introduce, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “I trust him. He’ll test you both, put you through the system, and take you back to my place.” Your eyes flick to Joel. “Tommy should still be there.” You turn to look at Nick. “On the off chance he’s not, take them to Deanna’s.”

Nick gives you a curt nod, and you can feel Joel’s stare boring holes in your skull. It’s Tess that finally breaks the silence, concern on her face. “What about you? Why aren’t you taking us?”

“Cuz I’m gonna be in lockup,” you say, and Joel jumps to his feet, but doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t do anything but stare, “for the next two days.” You swallow hard. “There’s enough food at my place for you three, water too. Tommy knows where the whiskey is.” You give a little chuckle, staring down at your boots before lifting your head. There’s something like admiration in Tess’s eyes, whereas Joel is pure fire. You chew the inside of your cheek. “It’s fine, really. All part of the deal.”

“You’ve been in FEDRA lockup before?” Tess asks, crossing her arms.

You nod. “Once or twice. I’ve been caught by a couple other soldiers, but I have dirt on most of them. Makes it easier, but this is all part of the plan.” Your eyes dart to Joel before meeting Tess’s. “It’s fine. It’s worth it.”

Nick grabs your arm then, all business, fingers biting into your elbow. “Let’s go. Now.” His voice is louder, and you lift a brow as he pulls you back through the door. “You two, don’t move, or so help me god, I will throw you both right back through that gate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Seriously?”

He stares down at you. He’s angry, you realize. “Seriously.”

Nick yanks the door shut, Joel and Tess staring at you as it closes, and he all but pushes you down the hall to the door, out onto the road, towards the building where you’ll be for the next two days. Lockup. “There were other soldiers in there,” he mutters under his breath. “I had to make it somewhat believable.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

Since the world ended, Joel will admit he’s gotten quick to judge. First impressions were hell before cordyceps ravaged the planet, but now they’re even worse, if not more important. But Joel’s met one too many terrible people, and he’s learned to be quick on the draw, quicker on his judgement.

He knows almost immediately that he does not care for Corporal Nick Cowan. At all.

Mainly, he doesn’t like the way Cowan was looking at you. He saw the way he stopped you outside the door, the two of you whispering under your breath to each other, an almost defiant look on your face. Are you two…?

He doesn’t finish the thought.

Joel’s mind has been churning from the moment he saw you, standing there in the gas station parking lot, that fucking baseball bat in your hand. Something else had taken over, something like happiness, spilling into the corners of his heart the moment he had you in his arms again. Alive, breathing, whole, right in front of him. He felt whole, for the first time in a long time, holding you like that. It felt…good.

And then you opened your mouth, and it all came crashing down.

He hasn’t forgotten. He can’t forget that night. The gunshots and the blood and the way Sarah had cried. The way he’d felt her go. It haunts his every step, her voice a constant reminder in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to tell you, if he ever found you again, and in a way, he’s grateful his brother was the one to deliver the news, but the way you’d said it, the broken apology, the tears on your face, it was too much.

It is too much.

Cowan returns not ten minutes after he’d hauled you off, and Joel gets to his feet when the door opens. The soldier gives him a look, but Joel doesn’t flinch. He’s used to this shit; the FEDRA soldiers in Baltimore were the same. “You can sit,” Cowan says, but Joel doesn’t move. Tess sinks into the chair he’d been occupying. There’s a clipboard in the soldier’s hand, and he flips the page over. “Names.”

“Tess Servopoulos.”

“Joel Miller.”

“Date of birth.”

“April 9th, 1969.”

“September 26th, 1967.”

On and on it goes, until the page is full. Cowan doesn’t look at either of them once, and then takes the scanner from his belt. He’s not gentle with it, the hard press of plastic and the following tingle at Joel’s neck making him wince. The scanner turns green both times, and Cowan scoffs.

“Well, there you go.” The soldier sighs. “Boston QZ works about the same as Baltimore. You work for the community, keep it running, earn your ration cards. Liv will tell you where to find assignments, what jobs you’re allowed to take. She’s responsible for you for now, once she’s out. You stay in her place until she comes back, and we go from there.”

“We don’t get our own space?” Tess asks, and Cowan shoots her a look.

“You wait for Liv,” he says tersely, “and we go from there.”

Joel bites his tongue.

He leads them through the QZ quickly, both hands on his rifle. Joel itches for his own gun, stashed in your hideaway, but forces his hands into fists instead. Tess gives him a pointed look. Don’t fuck this up.

It irks his brain that Cowan just knows where your apartment is. Tommy opens the door after the soldier knocks, and pulls Joel into a hug, Tess afterward. “You made it.”

Tommy steps aside to let them in, and when Joel turns back to the door, the Corporal is gone.

Good fuckin’ riddance.

“Much nicer than the shit we had in Baltimore,” Tess comments, shucking her coat off, and Joel huffs a laugh.

It’s…well, nice isn’t really the word. The flower wallpaper is something else but the place looks lived in, which already makes it better than the plain walls and nondescript shit they had in the Baltimore QZ. There’s a butterfly painted on the window, a bookshelf built into one wall, another little shelf between the two windows with a radio perched on top. The flower paper doesn’t continue along all the walls, giving way to a yellow colour, the lower two feet of the wall painted blue. There’s a big window near the bed, a tall wardrobe beside it, a cracked radiator, the bathroom tucked beside the bedroom.

Tommy makes lunch, some kind of instant mac and cheese that tastes all too familiar to Joel. But washing it down with a glass of whiskey definitely helps. Tess busies herself looking through your bookshelves, combing through the titles.

“Where did she get all this stuff?” Joel asks. The shelves are filled with books, but there are other things too, little knickknacks and candles and tchotchkes. A little elephant made of jade. Joel picks it up, rubs his fingers over the carved edge.

“If you’d been listening, on the walk back,” Tess quips, an almost sing-song to her voice, “instead of being an asshole, you’d know. She’s been doing the same shit we have. Smuggling. Looting places that have been deserted. And she’s clearly better at it than we are.”

Joel says nothing, his brow lowering as he puts the elephant back on the shelf. There’s a little glass dish on one of the other shelves, filled with rings of all sizes and metals. Wedding rings, he realizes after a moment, engagement rings.

Tess hums. Joel watches as she reaches down, rubs her thumb over the silver band on her finger.

“Who is she, Joel?” Tess asks, and a zap of cold slides down his throat. “To you. Who was she? And don’t try to bullshit me and say nothing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, instead of nothing, and walks away from the bookshelf. There are no doors between the different rooms, the living room and kitchen and bedroom one open space with a dividing wall. He walks towards your bed, lets his hand trail over the plaid sheets and blankets and sinks onto the edge, parks himself in front of the window.

He stays there, until the sun sets.

Two days in lockup, you’d said. You wait for Liv, Cowan had instructed.

Part of him feels like he needs to apologize. He’s going about this wrong, he knows that. But the memory of what he’s lost has risen to the surface of his mind, and made him hurt. Made him all too aware of how broken he is.

With Tess, it doesn’t matter. He cares for her — of course he cares for her — but the line in the sand is clear. It’s stress-relief, comfort, a placeholder for what they’ve lost. Tess lost Nate, and Joel lost you.

And what the fuck did he do to deserve to find you again?

Tess crawls into bed, eventually. She doesn’t say a word to Joel, doesn’t invite him to lay with her. He can hear Tommy snoring on the other side of the thin wall that separates the living room and the bedroom, his brother sprawled on the couch.

He gets to his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face. The wardrobe door creaks as he pulls it open. There’s not much inside, clothing meant more for warmth than anything else, an assortment of sweaters and flannels. He knows he shouldn’t, feels a prickle of guilt up his spine as he drags his hand through the fabric. His fingers catch on something softer than the others, and he pinches blue flannel, striped with white and grey.

You kept his shirt. All this time. Held it close enough to take it with you when you left.

It makes him ache.

Joel wanders into the kitchen, grabs the bottle of whiskey from where it had been left on the worn kitchen table. It’s a mess of coffee cups, pages torn from notebooks, a collage of maps spread beneath everything else. He sees paths marked in red, on the maps, places circled and x’ed out, scribbled notes and times and dates. The kitchen sink is clean, a few plates stacked beside, evidence of Tommy’s cooking still on the stove. The fridge is slightly crooked, from when Tommy had pulled out the whiskey.

He sees it, from the corner of his eye, on the top door of the fridge. Held in place by a magnet shaped like a strawberry.

July 4th 2002

The magnet falls as he pulls the polaroid off, but he catches it before it can hit the ground. The picture is torn at one corner, the edges a little warped, but otherwise intact. He can remember that night. The warm summer air, your head on his shoulder, beer and barbecue in his belly, the awe on Sarah’s face as you all watched the fireworks together. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Joel puts the magnet back on the fridge, but keeps the picture in his hand, sinks into a chair at the table, takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey.

He doesn’t hear Tess until she’s sliding into the chair across from him. He says nothing, another long sip from the bottle as she pulls the polaroid from his grip. She looks at it for a long moment, smoothing her fingers over the edges before handing it back to him.

“Tell me who she is, Joel,” she says again, more of a statement than a question. “Please.”

Joel’s throat bobs. Tess doesn’t often say please.

He blows out a shaky breath. “A ghost,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “To be honest, I’m still not totally convinced she’s really here. That we’re really here.”

Tess grips his free hand, pushes the bottle away. “We are here, Joel. Liv is here.” She squeezes his fingers. “Please, I just wanna make sense of it all.” Tess pauses, leans back a little. “Did you love her?”

Joel just nods, the movement slow as molasses, making his neck ache. “Her parents owned a hardware store, back in Austin. She moved back from Michigan after she finished school, started working in the store, and I met her there. We had one summer, and then she got a job in Boston.”

“You let her go.”

His brow crinkles, and his fingers itch to reach for the bottle, but he doesn’t. “I couldn’t let her stay in Austin just for me, couldn’t let her throw away her future.” He shoves a hand through his hair. He’s still holding the picture. “We spent the rest of the summer together, and then she left. Came back the next summer, and we had another two weeks.” He rubs his thumb over the photograph, the image of you leaned against him. “But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.”

“She broke it off?”

He lays the polaroid on the table, thumb still tracing your outline. “She met someone. Dean. The space was too much, for both of us. I understood. I let her go.”

“And then the world ended.”

Joel reaches for the bottle then, and takes a long swig before sliding it across to Tess. “And then the world ended.”

“So, she’s the reason you wanted to go to Boston.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Tess. “I called her that night, when everything happened. Told her to get out of Boston, that I’d find her. It was never about Boston, exactly, it was just about going East, praying that we might meet in the middle. I looked for her at every QZ, every shelter, every single time I saw a body in the street, I was looking for her.”

“But you found her,” Tess says, her voice low, and Joel forces his eyes to hers. “Joel, she’s alive. She’s right here. Second chances like this…” She trails off, shakes her head. “This kind of stuff doesn’t happen all the time, Miller, not anymore. This is…”

“If you call this a miracle, Tess, I swear to god.”

She scoffs a laugh. “No, not a miracle. But…something. You can’t—”

“I told you who she was,” he cuts her off, that same feeling rising in his throat again. What the fuck did he do to deserve a second chance with you? “Now drop it.”

“Joel—”

“Drop it, Tess.” He shoves his chair back, gets up, heads for the bed.

If she notices him take the polaroid with him, she doesn’t say anything.

Stairs are hell.

Every step makes your side scream in pain. The pressure you’ve been holding against your ribs has done little to ease the ache, and even breathing makes it worse. Your mouth tastes like blood, iron and tangy against your teeth, and you know you’re lucky as hell your cheek isn’t broken. Bruised to shit, yes, but not broken.

They were feeling feisty in lockup, worse than you’ve ever had it before. Nick left you with two other soldiers inside, muttering something about disturbing the peace. They processed you, put the charge on your record, and when another soldier came to get you, your stomach sank into your toes.

Angie.

The same soldier who’d been working the pharmacy when you’d gone to get inhalers for Henry. You hadn’t threatened her, not exactly, but you’d made it clear that you could do some damage if she didn’t give you what you wanted. The pharmacy is a no-violence zone; she couldn’t have hit you then even if she wanted to. It would get her in deeper shit than you.

But in lockup? A whole other fucking story.

She grabbed you roughly, all but shoving you through the doorway that led deeper into the building. You don’t think the building was originally like this, all cells and interrogation rooms; FEDRA must have built it themselves.

You were expecting to get shoved into a cell right off the bat, but instead, she lead you to one of the rooms, pushed you inside and yanked the door shut behind you.

“What are you—”

Your words cut off with the first slap, a hard backhand that made your head snap to the side. You grunted, grabbing the back of a chair inside the room. You had half a mind to grab the thing with both hands and launch it at Angie, but that would only extend your time in lockup.

All you could do was sit there and take it.

Her second backhand made your teeth rattle, pain sparking behind your eyes. You nearly ducked to dodge the next hit, out of instinct, but forced yourself still, tears springing forth as her fist connected with your cheek. Over and over again, you just let her hit you. She hit you hard enough that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and the chair behind you and hit the ground. She didn’t waste any time driving her boot into your side, and you just curled inwards, just took it.

You weren’t sure exactly when she left, all you knew was that the blows stopped landing, but the pain didn’t. Two more soldiers came in after, picked you up off the floor, and carried you out of the room. They put you in a cell next, gave you a bottle of water and a blanket. The fabric was mottled with blood when you finally opened your eyes, and your face ached something fierce.

You slept it off, the rest of your time inside. Ate the shitty bread when it was offered, used the water to clean the blood from your face. And then, your forty-eight hours were up, and they let you go.

Part of you expected Nick to be waiting for you outside, but you were happy he wasn’t. You didn’t want to feel like you owed him anything more.

It took ages to get back to your building. Every step outside made pain shoot through your side; you’re pretty convinced at least one of your ribs is broken. And now, fucking stairs.

You almost fall against the doorjamb once you reach your apartment, digging in the pocket of your coat for your keys. You’re fumbling with the lock when the door swings inward, revealing Tess, bright-eyed and wearing one of your t-shirts. “Jesus Christ.”

You actually fall forward then, and Tess catches you, sliding an arm around your waist and dragging you over the threshold.

“A little help here!”

Tommy and Joel are both sitting on your couch, and they both jump to their feet the moment they see you. Tommy moves before his brother, and is at your side in an instant, taking some of your weight from Tess. You’re grateful as hell, though the movement makes your side scream in pain. They bring you towards the couch, and from the corner of your swollen eye, you see Joel move out of the way, heading in the direction of your bedroom. You’re in too much pain for it to really sting.

You cry out as they lower you onto the couch. Tommy looks frantic, and Tess disappears for a moment, coming back with a wet cloth. She drags it over your cheek and you whimper.

“She’s messed up,” she says, you assume to Tommy. “They have a clinic here, right? Like in Baltimore.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “saw it when I first got here. I can go—”

You flail an arm out, your hand landing on Tommy’s leg. “Get Deanna.”

You think he nods — you hope he nods — and you hear the door bang shut a moment later. Tess wipes at your face more; guess you didn’t get as much blood off as you thought.

“Tess,” you call softly, and her eyes snap to yours. “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, shut up,” she tells you, her voice almost stern. You want to laugh. “Who did this to you? FEDRA? Cowan?”

“Not Cowan. Pissed off the wrong girl, I guess.” You actually scoff out a laugh, but it makes your ribs sing with pain. “Can’t fight back in lockup.”

Tess’s brow wrinkles. “Good to know it’s the same shit all over in some way, at least.”

You go quiet, for a long moment. Tess holds the cloth against your cheek, and you revel in the cool feeling, letting your eyes flutter shut. The pain throbs with every beat of your heart, every breath you take, but her hands are gentle, almost soft.

“Joel told me,” she says, breaking the silence that’s been filled only with your shaking breaths. “About the two of you, about…before.”

Tears fill behind your closed eyelids, and you feel them slip down your cheeks. “Doesn’t matter now,” you say, trying to shake your head but failing miserably. “He doesn’t…”

“Don’t worry about what he does or doesn’t. He’s a stubborn ass.”

“You two—”

She puts a finger on your lips, shushing you. “I said, don’t worry about it, Liv.” She shakes her head, brow pinched, moving the cloth to dab at the corner of your mouth. “Not right now.”

You hear the door open, and a moment later, Deanna’s face comes into view, hovering over you. “What the hell did you do, girl?”

“Made a deal,” you say, “but it was worth it.”

Through the thin wall, you think you hear Joel sigh, the noise long and deep.

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

your meddling steve fic got me thinking and what if it’s like a very similar concept where steve is trying to help you and eddie realize you like each other by being all extra touchy with you to make him jealous except he’s absolutely wrong. Eddie and you don’t like each other romantically but you do like steve!

AN | They’re fools, but they’re in love - but they don’t realize it, just yet.

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was a smile on your face before you even felt him drape his arm around your shoulders. You’d felt his presence as soon as he walked into the coffee shop, always so in tune with him that it was ridiculous at times. You turned to look at Steve and he placed a chaste kiss on your temple, “I have a plan, babe.”

You turned to him with a confused expression, grabbing the coffees you had ordered for the two of you. He gratefully took the cup you offered him and took a long sip, “Steve….you and plans don’t go together. I mean, at least not well.”

“Quite frankly, my dear, I’m offended,” he let go of you and clutched at his heart, leading you over to the table you regularly occupied.

“Steve. You’ve been my best friend for almost sixteen years,” you reminded him, “when’s the last time a plan according to you has gone well? Plans are my forte.”

“Well, this is going to work!”

“Do you wanna clue me in to what this grand idea is?”

“I will not be doing that,” his grin was megawatt and you couldn’t help but sigh dramatically, “just have to know - how much do you trust me?”

“You know I trust you with my life,” you gently nudged his foot with yours under the table, the two of you grinning like fools at each other. That pretty smile still managed to make butterflies explode in your stomach, despite the years that you’d known him. In fact, you were pretty sure that you fell in love with him a little more every day still, “there’s no one I trust more.”

“Good,” he let out a relieved little breath, “me too. But for now you just have to trust me, and watch it all unfold. It’ll be like magic.”

“Alright Harrington,” you grabbed your cup and pretended to clink it against his, “you’re on. I expect to be fully dazzled.”

“Oh, you will be,” he insisted, pretty bambi eyes glittering mischievously, “don’t worry.”

Your heart felt like it was almost bursting with excitement and nerves. Was Steve finally going to tell you that he felt the same about you as you did him? Would he profess his undying love for you and finally kiss? You could only - dream - of that moment.

You would just have to wait and see.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bi-weekly movie and dinner night out with the grownups. You loved your younger little brood of children, but sometimes it was nice to go out with just the older lot. This found you, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan picking the most obscure movie to see in the theater, followed by a healthy, heaping serving of greasy dinner food. What could be better than that?

The movie had just finished, and to be honest, you’d missed about half of it. It was some gory flick that wasn’t quite up your alley and, needless to say, you’d hidden your face in your hands and Steve’s shoulder most of the time.

As the six of you were leaving the theater, Steve reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, stepping in front of Eddie and Robin as you all walked down the street to the dinner. It wasn’t odd for Steve to hold your hand, even like this - you both were incredibly affectionate and touchy people. But still…it made electric shivers run up your spine and butterflies explode in your tummy. Something about tonight made things feel different.

You couldn’t help but turn back to smile at Eddie and Robin, the duo smirking happily as they gave you the thumbs. They were, on top of being too smart for their own sometimes, incredibly perceptive, and it hadn’t taken either of them, the chaotic duo that they were, to clock in on the fact that you were absolutely in love with Steve. And that he was just as in love with you…even if he didn’t realize that just yet.

But this, this outward affection and display of gentle reverence had to mean something, right? And although Steve hadn’t explicitly mentioned anything, maybe he was finally coming around, finally realizing what the two of you had. You felt like a shy girl, trailing after her crush like a little puppy, nothing but stars in your eyes. Oh yes, you were a sucker for your pretty boy best friend.

But that whole evening turned out to be and feel different. Like everything was slowly falling into place.

“You look so pretty,” he kissed your cheek before all of you shuffled into the booth and ordered your usuals. Your face flushed with warmth as you dipped your teeth and stared at the floor, “I realize I didn’t tell you earlier, sweetheart. And I just had to.”

“Thanks,” your voice was soft and small as you looked across and found Eddie beaming back at you. You put your hand on top of his, admiring how much smaller yours looked against his before giving it a gentle squeeze, “you’re really pretty too, Stevie.”

Even at the table exchanged knowing little looks that silently said finally.

Finally the two of you had some sense and realized it was almost meant to be the two of you. You looked over at Steve and found him watching you with the gentlest of expressions on his face. Had he always looked at you like that?

He had. You’d just never noticed before, too busy looking at him just as sweetly.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Robin’s birthday came on a beautiful Saturday. Naturally, Steve had planned a huge party to surprise, along with your help. The way her face lit up when she realized it was not a party but a party for her had made it all worth it. Her face when she realized that Vickie was there was priceless….anything to help her shoot her shot was what Steve had declared. You couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally seal the deal with you; despite his increased affections as of late, he still hadn’t officially made a move. All you could do was wait, you supposed.

You were chatting with Eddie and the birthday girl herself when Steve decided to join you guys. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Hey sweetheart," he practically cooed at you, causing your heart to skip a few beats. Eddie and Robin looked at each other and took long swigs of the beer in their red plastic cups. It was almost disgusting how in love the two of you were, "missed you. You look so pretty tonight."

"Steve," you couldn't help the giggle that naturally bubbled up, reaching up to touch his cheek, "you just saw me!"

"And it's been too long," he sighed dramatically before placing a few kisses to the bare skin of your shoulder, "hate being away from you."

"Okay lovebirds," Eddie shook his head in amusement before motioning for Robin to follow him, "we'll leave you two alone to do whatever it is you're doing and we're gonna smoke."

You watched them head upstairs and once they were gone and out of sight, Steve dropped his arms from around you. The loss of his warm touch felt a little harsh. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, wishing the racing thoughts in your mind would calm down for one second, "hey - can we go outside and talk?"

"Of course," he readily agreed, "good idea."

He held the way to the backyard, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy. Once outside and away from the loud party, things felt a little calmer. You looked at him, the pretty boy that had your heart for so long, unable to stop from smiling.

"Steve-"

"Babe, it's all going according to plan," he clapped his hands together, his whole face lighting up. Your brows knitted together in confusion as you just looked at him. He gently touched your cheek, his smile never faltering.

"P-plan? What plan?"

"My brilliant plan to get you and Eddie together," he sounded confused as to what you were confused about. Your entire face fell as your mouth opened in surprise. Needless to say, this was absolutely not what you had been expecting.

"Steve?" you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes as you blinked rapidly to keep them from spilling over and running down your cheeks.

"My plan," he reiterated, wondering why you were having such a reaction. He was kind of thinking that you would be…happy, "you know, being all touchy and feely with you. So he would get jealous…which he did. It seemed like it to me anyway."

"Me and Eddie," you repeated, completely stunned and heartbroken. This whole time….Steve hadn't really felt that way about you. It was all some weird plan to get you with him. You felt like such a fool; you felt so stupid and pathetic. After all, why would Steve Harrington be in love with you? None of it was real and it had all been a beautiful lie. You wiped away the tears that had rolled your cheeks before attempting to brush past him.

"Babe-" but you were already back inside, making your way through the house so you could leave and go back to your own. You really wanted to be anywhere but here. It felt like your heart had just been ripped out and crushed into a thousand tiny pieces.

Steve was so upset to see you upset. His heart constricted in his cheek as he went back inside. Maybe the man in question, Eddie, would be able to clear the air.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It didn't take long for Steve to find the two of them in his bedroom, looking more serious than he had expected. He didn't smell any weed and quickly realized the two of them were sober.

"Hey, I need to-"

"What happened to her?" Eddie cut Steve off before he could even get his sentence out. He swallowed thickly, "she was crying and almost ran out. What the fuck did you do, Harrington?"

"I…I thought I was doing the right thing," he rubbed a hand over his tired face, groaning at himself, "the plan…"

"Care to elaborate, dingus?"

"I was trying to get her with you," he turned to Eddie, who stared at him with wide eyes, "I thought I could make you jealous and finally get you to confess your feelings to her."

"My feelings?" Eddie repeated, looking at Robin in confusion, "what feelings? My…friend feelings?"

"Friend - no, you're in love with her," he insisted and the two of them snorted in amusement, "aren't you?"

"No," Eddie shook his head, "you are. And she's in love with you."

"So…she doesn't like you?" his voice cracked as he slowly came to the conclusion that he had made a big, horrible mistake. Eddie and Robin both shook their heads as Steve groaned, “and you don’t like her?”

"I mean, I like her duh, but only as a friend. Nope, Stevie…she's in love with you," he insisted and realization hit him like a train. Oh. Oh, “it’s so disgustingly obvious. From both of you.”

"I think you have somewhere to be," Robin cooked her head towards the door, "do go and apologize and get your girl."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were still crying, but your tears had long run out. Instead it was just dry sobs that wracked your body as you curled up in bed. You felt so fucking dumb, and honestly so shitty. This whole time you thought Steve’s affections were real, and that you were both finally on the same page…turns out it was nothing but a game to him, a game in which he pawned you off to someone else.

You heard the frantic knocking at the front door, but decided to ignore it. It was late and you were in absolutely no mood to be dealing with anyone. You pulled the blanket over your head and continued your little pity party - which was well deserved, thank you very much.

But just as suddenly as the knocking had come, there was tapping at your window. You groaned as you tossed the blanket off your body, ready to yell at whoever was interrupting you. It was probably Eddie or Robin - the two of them had seen you practically run out of Steve’s.

To your surprise, it was the very same man that had just broken your heart at the window. You frowned and shook your head, “go away. You’re the last person I want to talk to right now.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t call me that,” you already felt your eyes burning again, fresh tears unfortunately brought back, “please. Just go.”

“I have to talk to you,” he insisted, “it’s important. Please - let me explain.”

“Explain what!?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “how I’m an idiot? How you didn’t mean to fool me into thinking that maybe you could possibly feel the way I do? No thanks.”

“Let me explain,” you could see that he had glossy eyes as well, and that tears had already run down his cheeks. Fuck. Why did he have to do that? You hung your head and sighed, “please, I’m begging you.”

Wordlessly, you closed the little bit of distance that was between the two of you and opened the window so he could climb inside. He landed ungracefully on your floor, breathing heavily as he gathered himself.

“Talk,” you insisted as you sat back on your bed and looked at him. He inhaled deeply before nodding, trying to gather up the courage to spill out his entire heart to you.

“I fucked up,” were the first words that tumbled out of his mouth and you just raised an eyebrow at him, “and I am so, so sorry for that.”

“You…Steve…I…” you stopped yourself, shaking your head before motioning for him to go.

“My plan, this stupid, dumb plan…I thought it was perfect,” he confessed softly, “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing for what?”

“For you,” he breathed nervously, “it was supposed to be better for you. I thought that you - you and Eddie - really liked each other. I thought if I put on the affection a little bit he’d get the hint - he’d get jealous and finally ask you out.”

“Steve,” you wanted to be angry, but the boy had such a heart of gold that you found it impossible. He really did have the best intentions even if it all backfired, “I never liked Eddie that way. And he’s not interested in me. I don’t know why you’d ever think that.”

“I guess…I just thought that it would…maybe this is selfish too but,” he was waving his hands around as he did when he got nervous, “I thought it would help me get over you.”

“Well, it really didn’t work,” the fact that he’d basically just confessed his true feelings for you went over your head in the moment, “it just really ended up hurting me, Steve. I thought that you might actually feel the same about me as I do about you. Instead, it just makes me look like a fool."

"Sweetheart-"

"That whole time I thought it was real. I thought that maybe…maybe I was special to you," a few tears of anger and sadness rolled toy cheeks, "that maybe you loved me."

"Please, just let me-"

"Instead it turned out all wrong," your voice cracked, "and I'm afraid that we're never going to be the same. 'Cause now you know I'm in love with you. And you don't feel the same."

"But I-"

"Maybe I should have told you a long time ago but-"

"I'm in love with you."

"And I - wait," his words finally settled in your bones as you realized what he said. You turned to Steve and looked at him, eyes wide and nervous as your heart beat wildly in your chest, "what did you say?"

"I said I was in love with you," his voice almost cracked as your face softened.

"Stevie?"

"I'm in love with you, honey," he repeated as you stood up and moved closer to him, "I have been for a long time. I, ugh, I didn't know you felt the same. Otherwise I would have…said this a long time ago."

"So let me get this straight," you held up your mind as your mind tried to process everything, "I love you and didn't think you loved me…and you love me and didn't think I loved you? So you tried to get over me by getting me together with Eddie?"

“I thought that maybe seeing you with someone else would finally get to me and I’d finally get into my head that you aren’t mine…you weren’t meant to be mine,” he avoided your eyes and looked at the carpet, studying it intently, “that you loved someone else.”

“Steve Harrington,” you put a hand under his chin and turned his face towards you, “you are a good, kind hearted person that always wants the best for others. But you are so blind sometimes. Steve, I’ve been yours…I’ve always been yours.”

He wrapped his long, slender fingers around your wrist, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as he looked at you intently, “do you mean it? Truly?”

“Yes,” you nodded, offering the pretty boy a teary eyed smile, “I realized just how much I’ve loved you that day you gave me your ice cream after I dropped mine. It was your favorite flavor and I remember how much you’d been looking forward to it. But you didn’t hesitate.”

“Honey,” he let out a small laugh, one filled with years of love longing, “we were ten. I remember that afternoon. But that was so long ago.”

“I know,” you nodded gently and Steve felt like his face was about to break in half with happiness. Every dream he’d ever had was suddenly coming true.

You slowly pulled your hand back, but Steve’s hands settled on your waist as he pulled you into his frame. Everything about him was overwhelming and all consuming; the warmth from his body, his smell, the soft sounds that escaped his lips. He was completely yours and he’d never even realized; until this moment…until he’d almost lost you.

He looked at you for just a moment before he leaned in and crashed his lips onto yours, kissing with a soft, but fervent passion. His kiss was saccharine but contained so much pent up love and adoration. He wanted to bathe you in it, wanted to make sure you’d never question his love again. Steve would have gone through hell a million times over before anything happened to you, before the smile left your face.

You practically melted into him, letting him kiss you until you were dizzied and drying for a breath of air. You looked at him with a happy anticipation, ready for him to take you back in his arms and kiss you until the end of days, “I love you, Steve. So much.”

“I love you,” he whispered before moving to kiss you again, “forever and endlessly.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader

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zeestarfishalien · 3 months

Text

Part 13: My Bones Became a Drip

No TW for this chapter (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterpost/chapter list

Recap:

Jason spins, eyes wide and searching, landing on the glowing white haired teen and his unconscious brother draped across their arms. Even with the cape still covering Tim’s face, he knows it’s Tim.

And the teen…

oh…

The teen is Spooky, Danny. He’d recognize that funky jumpsuit anywhere and those eyes are the same Lazarus green eyes he sees on a canid face every damn day.

He’s frozen mentally. Physically he’s moving forward to check Tim’s vitals and look for any obvious signs of injury but it’s all autopilot, all things that were drilled into him so that it became second nature, so that he could function even when his emotions are running wild like they are right now. He’s furious and relieved and anxious and surprised and ecstatic and so much more nuances of the same. It’s a cyclone of vicious emotions attempting to claw their way to the surface, fighting each other for the top spot.

His instincts purr, they’re safe they’re safe family is safe , while he gets on coms with Oracle to make sure she knows they’ve got Tim and that he’s alive.

Gingerly, he takes Tim off of Spooky’s hands and hoists him onto his hip like he’s a sleeping toddler so he can free one of his hands.

He gently reaches out to ruffle hair that has the same wispy feeling as before.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Family , his instincts say. I love you , says the odd rumbling tone that ripples out from somewhere in his chest.

Danny clicks and a similar rumble in higher pitch comes from him and somehow Jason knows that it means, I love you too. Family.

[I felt we could all use a little refresher but on to the new chapter!]

Jason wants to cry and rage at how long it takes him to notice the way Danny scratches gingerly at the skin around the collar on his neck. They’re in the bat cave waiting to hear news on Red Robin’s checkup. Danny had followed, a ghost of a thing, barely visible most of the time, and his feet had yet to touch the ground after he passed off Tim. However, he stayed with Jason. He didn’t appear nervous, but neither was he eager to explore the wonders of the world around him.

When Black Bat sent him a little wave, he perked up a little, tilting his head to the side, assessing the vigilante. He slowly raises his hand in a small wave back.

Immediately after, his hand reaches up to ever so carefully shift the collar.

“You okay, Spooky?”

Wide bright green eyes snap to Jason in some form of surprise.

He nods, but the hollow groaning sound that emanates from his body tells a different story to Jason. It says, uncomfortable, burns, powers hurt, not enough energy.

“Is that collar dampening your abilities?”

Danny opens his mouth to speak only for the syllables to catch in his apparently raw throat. Raw from smoke? The collar?

He coughs, and Jason can hear his lungs rattling on the inhale. Spooky….

The chirp from Danny speaks clearly, some, not all.

“Well fiddle sticks…let me get Z or one of the other magic guys on the phone and see if we need magic, tech, or both to get it off.”

The cracking and groaning that comes as a response is more emotion than actual words, but it gets the message mostly across. His situation isn’t urgent. The power he holds is too great for the collar to block much of. Danny shares the way that the power flows over and around the collar like it’s an annoyingly large boulder in a stream. It may block the most convenient route, but the water will still find a way to go downhill.

“Still…” he argues. “If it’s not comfortable, we should find a way to get it off.”

Danny shrugs like it’s of little importance to him. Jason knows that kind of attitude. It’s very common among the hero types.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Dick watching them. His brother mouths, “I can call her,” and Jason nods his assent. He already owes her one favor. Let her pay back one of her debts to Big Bird.

~•~

"Heyyyyyy Z..."

"The next words out of your mouth better not have anything to do with that mind boggling fiend of Jason’s," she rattles off bluntly.

Pressing his lips together, Dick debates how to reply, but evidently his silence is reply enough.

She sighs. "What is it this time?"

It's probably better to get straight to the point. "They've got a suppression collar on."

"What? But that's not possible. The size of the device capable of completely suppressing that spirit's powers would have to be..." she trails off as something occurs to her. "Except it's not fully suppressing their power, is it? We would have noticed that."

"Yep. Got it in two," Dick says cheerfully but his smile doesn't last. "They seem able to use most of their abilities fine, but whatever material it's made from irritates their skin now that they're back in their body."

"Good to see I'm the first to know" she cuts back sarcastically.

"You are. It all just happened tonight. They rescued RR from a warehouse fire. They've been following Hood ever since."

There's a long pause and then she sighs again.

"Is RR alright?"

"He will be. He's resting now, nothing he shouldn't be able to recover from, but he'll be down for a while," he lets warmth trickle into his voice. He appreciates her asking about Tim’s health. Not everyone makes that effort.

"Okay, well that might complicate things. If we're going based on past experience, whoever collared Spooky is probably the same person or people that put them in that wretched abomination of a coffin. Which means...tech," she ends with a sigh. "Specifically, mad scientist levels of tech. I swear I'm going to strangle whoever is behind all of this wretched spirit-tech when we find them because I don't know that I can get that collar off without it blowing up in our faces."

"How should we approach this then?"

He can hear another long drawn out sigh from Zatanna's end.

"Lemme....Let me talk to Marvel and I'll get back to you with a game plan."

"Thanks Zee!! You're the best!!"

"Fuck you, Dickwing."

She hangs up before he can quip back so he just smiles at his phone.

~•~

Jason turns his attention back to his spooky friend.

“What’s on the agenda now that you’re free?”

The spirit freezes. The temperature around him drops, too. He frowns to himself, and stormy eyes look a little lost.

“You can stay with me until you figure it out. I’d like the company. Your company specifically,” Jason offers softly.

He nearly breaks down at the look that slowly dawns on Danny’s face. It’s like Jason gave him the world in his little selfish offer. All Jason wanted was to keep his companion.

“Thank you.” The words are half garbled and sound like they had to have hurt coming out, but Jason understands them all the same, and that’s all that matters.

Black Bat sidles over with a long strip of thin cloth in her hand, some scrap of non-conductive polymer used on something or other. [reference to City pigeons bleed green?] Jason is not sure where she got it from, but she holds it out and gestures to her neck with the other hand.

Spooky drifts closer and carefully snags the hanging end of the cloth, careful not to brush his fingers against Cass.

“May I help you?” She signs, repeating it slower when Danny looks confused. Jason is about to translate when comprehension dawns on Danny’s face.

He looks to the cloth and then back to Cass before slowly nodding. He dips back down to the ground, the tips of his toes brush the floor, and replies with sign, though it’s simple and hesitant.

“You hold.” He demonstrates holding his collar up at the narrowest part of his neck.

Cass nods and replicates his action. Danny carefully eases the cloth between the bare skin on his neck and the collar. It’s a tight fit, but he manages to make it work.

Jason steps away for a brief moment, returning with a needle and thread.

“Want me to tack it in place so it doesn’t slip?”

Danny nods, but his eyes follow the needle in Jason’s hand closely. He makes sure to move slow and steady so Danny doesn’t startle or panic. It takes a few minutes to sew together three separate spots on the fabric to hold it in place on the collar, but it’s done with no fuss and no panic on anyone’s part.

Danny is more relaxed by the time Dick peeks out of the changing rooms and meanders back over.

"It's good to see you up and about Spooky. Sorry we gave you such a cold reception. We get a little single-minded when one of us is injured," Dick says amicably.

Danny shrugs but doesn’t seem interested in attempting more communication with the man. He looks dead on his feet, no pun intended.

Dick for his part, tries not to show his disappointment in being ignored.

Alfred appears in the doorway, looking pristine as always except...ah, there's a few wrinkles in his suit, and his worry lines are deeper than usual.

"Master Tim will make a full recovery given time and rest. Luckily, he avoided the worst of the smoke and was rescued before things got out of hand." He aims that last part at Danny who ducks away and flickers in and out of sight from the grateful tone.

Jason stands and stretches with a long groan. It must have startled Danny because he blips a few feet before catching himself and drifting back close to Jason.

~•~

The brother, Red Robin, Tim... is okay. He's alive and being checked over by professionals. That's really all that matters to Danny.

He is tired though.

That's part of the reason why he doesn't give much of a response to the energetic one, Nightwing. The other part being that this one's words and actions don't match what he's actually feeling. He's clearly, at least to a ghost's senses, masking and shoving all of his emotions and problems into a box that will one day explode on him.

Sensing that sets Danny on edge. He doesn't like that false cheer, one so deeply ingrained that even Nightwing might not know it's false.

Luckily he doesn't have to attempt to summon energy to respond because the elder gentleman comes out to let them know that Tim will be okay.

His gratitude towards Danny has every part of him squirming beneath his skin. People don't just...thank him. Not before... and he certainly hasn't done much now to garner that level of acknowledgment. He has to fight to stay visible even as they're leaving. He doesn't want to worry Jason.

Previous | Next

I'm so excited to post this finally!!! It's been a rough one to wrestle with and it's definitely a little funky round the edges but I'm still happy with it.

I think there's a reference to City Pigeons Bleed Green by @clockwayswrites Go check out their stuff it's amazing!!! I could be wrong on which fic it's from but it's definitely one of Clock's works. (Lol pun intended)

As always, please let me know if there's anything confusing (sometimes I word stuff strangely and it doesn't make sense).

I am part way into the next chapter as well, but with my life how it is at the moment, who knows when I'll get it finished. Could be tomorrow, could be 6 months from now.

Next chapter is a good one which is part of what made this one so hard. I can't wait to write and show y'all the developments I have planned. I can't wait to see it myself!

Anywho, thank you so much for your support. You guys are amazing. Don't forget that.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #my graveyard song #danny the black dog au

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wickjump · 23 days

Note

Heyheyheyheyheyheyheyheyheyhryhdyhryhhheyheyhryheyhryhryhrghdyhey

Soo you know how everyone is around the same height in sanses? (Tallest is fresh who loves taking tall sanses for some reason , shortest is ink who needs to drink some soup)

Well , imagine if you will , dear wick , Reaper. Reaper is from godtale. Godtale characters are gods (duh)

Sometimes , when drawing random unrelated gods or powerful deities (some eldritch deities for example) , they'll make them tall.

Basically what I'm proposing is Reaper being like 30 stories tall or something.

Like imagine you go out into the multiverse and everyone is "tiny" and then you discover you're the tall freak. And then you discover that the gods out there are even tinier than average.

Also afterdeath. Afterdeath in that context.

(basically please rant about literally anything in the context of Reaper being very very tall),

unamzi i will be answering this but first i really want to say that reaper comes from reapertale not godtale they’re all gods but it’s reapertale im so sorry. the comic is called reapertale (by renrink). he is called reaper similar to the reason fell is called fell. it is the name. anyway here’s a warning for being so uncanon that it’ll probably get annoying fast

ANYWAY i love the idea of god characters being able to change their heights—or more accurately, forms. im obsessed with the ink and error are gods headcanon so they’ll be here too im so sorry to the god hc haters. dream and nm will not be here though because they’re guardians and not gods and thus infinitely lamer

i like to imagine god characters in reapertale (and any god characters outside of it) have two forms similar to some ancient stories, which i will dub (very creatively) their big boy forms, and their teeny tiny forms. obviously they often pursue the latter. reaper is still tall in his though because i’m a reaper with morticia’s body type truther. probably about as tall as fresh. i also imagine ink would be one of the only gods with a lot more control over his form but that is unimportant here

the reason i imagine this whole form changing thing, specifically for reaper, is convenience. when in his universe’s version of the heavens, he’s in his big boy body. but it’d be really hard to reap souls if you were that big and couldn’t fit into the hospital room, much less use your scythe to comfortably reap their soul without accidentally killing everyone else in the room as well because your scythe is also that big, so he, alongside other gods, were given a teeny tiny form for convenience. i also imagine life (rt!toriel) stays primarily in her teeny tiny form for the sake of not being detected by the other gods, and so she can be a comfortable size when taking care of the plants in her garden. i have no care for canon when im having fun. joy and whimsy > accuracy

and as for afterdeath, the save screen is also huge. possibly infinitely so. so when pushed by geno after a while, reaper would probably relent and oh my god that is a big ass skeleton, yet he would still manage to comfortably fit in the save screen. imagine you go on your computer to play undertale and look at the title screen and see some emo ass sans covering up a solid half of it. anyway, reaper’s big boy body would probably intimidate and probably scare the hell out of geno at first, but i’m in love with the bride and the ugly ass groom trope when it involves a god/dess that’s like seventy feet tall and the stupid little husband, so that is also very much them at times. not always, because you know, comfort, but sometimes. geno and his ethereal husband

as for ink and error because remember that tidbit? yeah canon is dead i killed it. so as for them, the anti void and doodlesphere are both also huge, so they could again comfortably fit in each of those places while being big boys. i like to think they choose deliberately to not be ‘big’ all the time. while reaper does it for his job and to not scare mortals, most of his life in the heavens is spent in big boy form. ink and error meanwhile rarely are in theirs, probably because ink ventures into aus so often that he either forgets he even has one or just wants to appear the same as other sanses. error is probably he same, but rather because he steals things for fun, and what’s the point of stealing a bar of chocolate if it’s barely visible compared to you? how is he supposed to enjoy that?! he finds it easier

i also really like the idea of applying more biblically accurate angel type designs to ‘god forms’ or whatever the equivalent is, or something ‘creepy’ and symbolic of their character/jobs. i’ve got cool designs stored away that i might remake actually….. aw fuck look what you’ve done you’re making me be creative oh god

i like. i like god headcnaons…

#reaper sans #geno sans #ink sans #error sans #utmv #undertale #i am annoying #sorry bout that #afterdeath #sanscest #sanshipping #reapertale

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luveline · 1 month

Note

May I pretty please request an emergency medicine doctor!reader x Hotch blurb? I’d love to see both of them in careers that are difficult, yet despite that they still manage to be together because they understand each other so much. Maybe something with the rest of the team as well if it’s possible 🫶🏼🥹

Emily used to think Hotch would never be happy again. She’d drive him home after work, pick him up in the mornings, and she’d think about how miserable he was, the kind of misery that hooks you in its grip, has you turning to wine or whiskey just to keep breathing.

She thought for sure he’d buckle. When Hayley died, he’d have to. How could you not? But he kept going and proved she should’ve had more faith in him, becoming the father Jack deserves, and, surprisingly, your partner.

“You’re squeezing me too tight,” you mumble, just loud enough for Emily and the others to hear you where Hotch hugs you a few feet from the dinner table. “Why are you trying to break my back?”

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

“Eighteen days is not three weeks.”

“It might as well be.” Hotch peels away from you to give you a once over. Emily’s half jealousy and half fondness, seeing him love someone so obviously. “Are you hungry? I ordered for you.”

“Super hungry. Do I smell like antiseptic?”

“No, just soap.”

“Well, that’s not much better.”

Hotch puts his arm behind your back and guides you to the table. The team squeeze out hellos between mouthfuls and you take your place at Hotch’s side behind a steaming plate. You’re as ravenous as the rest of them after your long shift; Morgan can hardly get a word out of you for the first ten minutes, though he tries, and you attempt to be polite. Emily nudges him until he gets the hint to stop.

“Here,” Hotch says, putting a heaping of his food onto your plate with a large spoon.

“Stop.” You attack his spoon with a fork.

“It’s fine, you like it more than I do.”

“Don’t care. You need your energy. I’m going to make you carry me up the stairs home.”

He’s unintimidated. “Ah.”

“Ah,” you echo. “You sound so doubtful.”

Hotch looks like he might try to keep flirting with you, but he gives in quickly, betraying how much he’s missed you with a hand slipping under the table. Emily sees his fingers curl over your knee, averting her gaze with a feigned sip of coke.

She can deduce the silent question you ask one another about anyways.

“We’ll have dessert,” you say. We won’t skip out early. “What are you having, Dr. Reid?”

Hotch orders you three different things, which you eat fast.

“They’re not feeding you at the hospital?” Rossi asks.

“Three emergency transfers in twelve hours,” you explain, slouching now into Hotch’s side, one slow inch at a time. “I didn’t have time for much.”

“That’s not healthy,” Hotch murmurs in concern.

“I’m sure I can ask any of your friends about your eating habits and find a similar schedule,” you brush him off, raising your gaze to Emily, then Morgan, then Rossi and Reid. Everyone smiles the same way. Hotch is caught, and his laugh jostles your shoulder.

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘do as I say, and not as I do?’” he asks.

God, Emily thinks with a huff of a laugh she can’t contain, get a room.

“He likes that one,” Spencer says.

“I don’t doubt it.” You lift your lips to his jaw and press a peck to the line of it. One, then two. “Maybe that’s why we've lasted as long as we have. Mutual disregard for our wellbeing.”

“And a great deal of care for each other,” Rossi says, nodding sagely. “This is why my marriages never last.”

“Is that why?” Spencer asks.

“You’ve gotten to be quite the lark.”

“Lark,” Hotch whispers to you. Emily, sitting at his other side, might be the only one who hears, the others distracted by Spencer and Rossi’s ensuing squabble.

“Scoundrel,” you agree.

“How’s your head now?”

“It’s gonna be a hundred percent better if you give me that,” you say, pointing hopefully at his full drink.

He doesn’t hesitate to press it into your hand. Emily would never suspect you hadn’t seen one another for weeks; you move and he follows. You rub your cheek against his shoulder. He touches his nose to your hair, his eyes shuttering closed for one stolen, blissful second. “Missed you,” he says under his breath.

Emily looks away with a smile. Hotch isn’t hopelessly miserable anymore.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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alilbatflies · 1 month

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Just Cake #3

by popular demand (2 people asked) (hello) (thank you for commenting! it means a lot even if I don't manage to answer perhaps)

Part 1, Part 2

... ... ...

“Look who we’ve caught,” an entirely too sweet voice said. “Well, aren’t you two adorable?”

The villain was growling now. A low, guttural sound which the henchman has only heard in life-threatening situations, usually forced out by the desperate struggle of survival. Now it was a promise of violence, get closer I dare you, a promise of slaughter and doom.

They tried to angle their head to glimpse whoever had the honour of experiencing such a threat.

The person shuffled to the side, no doubt measuring them in turn. They were all cloak and magic glowing through two bright orange eyes.

Supervillain.

They were so screwed. Utterly fucked.

The supervillain measured them both.

They seemed… wary. Ridiculous, given that the two potential threats were trapped in a power-suppressing net. Ridiculous, given that the supervillain was a supervillain for a reason—spectacular amount of magical skill and all.

Although the henchman could admit they wouldn’t want to be facing their villain’s growling and claws either. Even through a net. There were holes.

“You’re not superhero.”

The confusion triggered by such statement startled the villain out of their instinctual reaction. They stopped growling, although they were still baring their teeth.

“I was not expecting anyone else,” the supervillain said. “Perhaps that pesky hero who lurks around them sometimes, but not a fellow criminal.”

Fellow criminal, huh? The henchman assumed the supervillain was trying to convince them that they’re all on the same side. Perhaps the idea of a potential furious threat unsettled them, no matter the current cage around it.

Well, it wasn’t like they particularly wanted to stay in the bloody uncomfortable trap.

“In that case,” the henchman said, “I suppose you wouldn’t mind getting us out of the net?”

“Should I?”

…the henchman had assumed wrong.

While they probably were on a similar kind of boat regarding their criminal activities, the supervillain hadn’t had any proper motivation to let them go. They weren’t especially close or anything.

And yet, still standing there. Still watching the two criminals swinging in their net as if they somehow held the answers to the universe.

The supervillain had options.

First, they could let them out. The best outcome but severely unlikely.

Second, they could close a bargain of some kind. I’ll only let you out if… which was less favourable, but it would still mean getting out relatively quickly.

Third, they could leave them trapped.

It occurred to the henchman that while there was little chance of them making it out then, the supervillain couldn’t possibly know that. Their villain’s powers were speculated on so many levels it had led to more confusion than clarity in the industry. That could work out in their favour.

The henchman was no mind reader. They couldn’t possibly know how much of a threat did the supervillain consider them at the moment. Nevertheless, the supervillain was still standing there.

Nevertheless, the supervillain didn’t seem entirely convinced leaving them hanging was their best option.

They could work with that.

They decided to play their cards according to their instincts. The villain still hovered over them, a display of teeth and taunt like an arrow ready to take flight and slaughter. Their most wild card, a whisper of carnage. A terrifying ace.

The henchman loved them so.

“You had no quarrel with us before this… incident,” the henchman said. They focused on keeping their tone light, conversational. “Although, now that the situation has changed, perhaps you’re excited to find out how we settle the score, hm?”

Their look met the orange eyes. The supervillain probably found them crazy, threatening from within the containment. They felt insane. They felt the thrill run through them.

“Let us go, so the beast doesn’t have to claw its way out.”

On cue, the villain growled.

The supervillain hesitated.

It was a brief and finely concealed blip of emotion, barely slipping past the dangerous façade. Surely the villain couldn’t be so terrifying as to startle them. And yet.

The supervillain drew a smile, entirely too sharp in its flawless elegance. “Of course.” Then they proceeded to pull shears out of nowhere.

The henchman tried not to be impressed too bad. They hadn’t had much time to ponder about the practicality of the supervillain’s pockets relevant to such level of preparedness, since the net was cut down. There was little regard for the fact they would hit the ground.

The henchman couldn’t care less about the fall as their magic roared to life inside them. It pushed along their bones and crashed into their skin from within. It settled then, nesting in their body like a monster in its cave.

Belatedly, they realized the villain shielded the back of their neck and head from impact with their arm.

There was absolutely no dignified way to get out of the tangle of ropes.

Once the henchman managed, they realized the villain was standing over them protectively, placing themselves between them and the supervillain.

The villains stared each other down. It seemed a stalemate.

“I appreciate you understand plans fall through sometimes,” the supervillain said. “It was not my intention to harm you.”

“As displayed,” the henchman noted quietly.

The villain considered this. They nodded in acknowledgement.

The henchman itched to get out of another’s territory. They were sure the villain didn’t want to linger either.

“Could you give us directions from the forest?” they asked. “We would dislike to meddle with any of your other… endeavours.”

The supervillain tilted their head.

“What I mean is…” The henchman pulled the net up from beneath their feet, holding it out. “We wouldn’t want to mess with your handiwork.”

The supervillain grinned as they took the cluster of ropes, a little feral, a little genuine. They did point the two in a certain direction. They tipped their head at the villain before seemingly dissolving back into the forest and vanishing.

“Bloody hell.”

The villain inclined their head. Then they turned and started away. “Luckily not.”

“Luckily not,” the henchman huffed in echo, following short behind. “Extremely insightful as always, boss.”

“Hm.”

They luckily didn’t stumble into any more traps on their way back.

The henchman was so not sleeping that night.

#writing snippet #writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #villains #villain x henchman #villain x villain #villain x minion #coincidentally i finished editing two long posts at the same time so maybe the other one will also appear in near future #yes i have more of this little series planned #two more parts i think. not sure how long it'll turn out in the end #not sure how long it'll take me to get around to it either

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chirpsythismorning · 2 years

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I know it's sort of on the nose (eye), but...

Let's talk about the heart(s).

I realize a lot of fans dismissed this as reaching recently, and so everyone sort of shut up about it, but I can't let it go. Especially when acknowledging what is literally happening on the show itself aka YOU'RE THE HEART, has convinced me that none of this is reaching. In fact, I'm certain that the heart imagery in the California poster(s) was intentional and intended to foreshadow requited Byler in ST5!

HEAR ME OUT!

The Duffers, when asked about the significance of the s4 posters, got excited, saying that it was indeed foreshadowing done by marketing, only to shut up instantly, steering the conversation elsewhere.

A little bit before season 4 actually premiered, fans got these posters as promotion and started noticing the hearts in the trees fairly quickly. So, this isn’t something that was only recently discovered well after s4 premiered. No, this was something fans caught onto way before 'you're the heart' was even a concept we were aware of. And I think there's a reason for that, in that it was foreshadowing what was still yet to come.

So, for starters, look at each of these trees individually…

They all look like your basic, run-of-the-mill palm trees. They have texture to them, which makes them fairly unique like trees often are. They were designed for the eye to instantly qualify them as trees.

These TWO below on the other hand, follow a different formula.

These trees look like hearts, point blank. They are much more defined into a shape than they are meant to look like realistic trees.

One heart is on the left and one heart is on right in this poster (smack dab where the rule of thirds lies, might I add). The left heart is a little bigger and therefore easier for the eye to catch first, while the heart on the right is a little smaller and therefore harder to notice, but it’s there.

Now get ready, because what actually sort of sealed the deal for me, is that it’s obvious these two trees, are the exact same.

Here you can see I reverted the right heart horizontally, and yep... They’re the same. Even down to the little detail of the small tree accompanying both of them. You can clearly see they are the same image, just copy/pasted, shrunk a little smaller and reverted horizontally.

So what does this all mean…?

Well, a couple weeks after Vol. 2 dropped on July 1st, after rewatching the van scene a bajillion times, numerous fans started to notice a heart shape in the light of Will’s eye. And once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it, especially in edits that enhanced the quality of the scene and made it even more prominent than how it looked in the show.

But the thing is, the heart doesn’t stay there the entire time in Will's eye. There’s moments where it’s bright and clear as day, and theres other moments where it's just barely visible. And I think that was probably necessary, otherwise it would have been a little too obvious. But it's still just subtle enough, and within the context of the conversation literally happening on screen, YOU'RE THE HEART!, that it's... wow. It's beautiful.

Even more interestingly, similar to the posters, while there is a more prominent heart on the left, that being the heart in Will's eye in this scene, his heart is also accompanied by a second heart to the right, which is also slightly less obvious, but it’s there, and it's in Mike’s eye.

There’s moments where it’s bursting or, to even fit the context of the scene, ‘falling apart” (it quite literally falls apart the moment Will says those exact words).

Yes, Mike's heart is a little smaller, it's less distinguishable. And there's times when you can't really see it at all, just like Will's, but it's there, all while Mike looks, dare I say it, in love?!?

The van scene took over half a day to film, and a lot of evidence points to the fact that there is way more going on in this scene than meets the eye. (Like the fact that Will's monologue in the van parallels perfectly to Mike's monologue at surfer boy pizza...)

"I know it's sort of on the nose"

NO ITS LITERALLY ON THE EYES, YOU EVIL GENIUSES!

This, on top of everything else???? Like, Byler is so inevitable at this point, there’s seriously no room for doubts anymore.

I also want to add that, fans noticed Lonnie (Will's dad)'s car in the background of the main Cali poster, and we also know the actor who played him attended the table read for season 4. Which means that this poster has another element to it that confirms it's indeed foreshadowing what is still yet to come in season 5, not just season 4... So it's not a reach to theorize about the significance here of Mike, clearly walking towards Will, while everyone else is walking forwards. After all season 4 was just the beginning of the end. And the posters are confirmed to have hints pointing towards endgame...

#you're the heart #without heart wed all fall apart #heart eyes #heart trees #byler #byler evidence #byler proof #byler endgame #byler theory #stranger things #stranger things spoilers #stranger things theories #stranger things theory #stranger things meta #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #stranger things 4 poster

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sluttyten · 2 years

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morally gray area

Yesterday <- || -> Kinktober Masterlist

Day Nineteen: Role-Playing & Uniforms w/ Hendery

Word Count: 8,217

Once, during your second semester of university, you’d taken an elective class titled Good and Evil in Literature. You’d learned lots about the gray space between morality and immorality, about right and wrong, abuses and imbalances of power. It had been a few years since then. You’d changed majors twice, briefly taken a semester off to travel abroad, yet still you found use in your daily life to apply what you’d learned about the morally gray space.

Hendery.

He was a gray space.

A rather large one, or perhaps a small one, teetering right on the very narrow border between right and wrong.

The young professor was handsome and funny. He was smarter than some of his colleagues gave him credit for, and kinder than most of them as well.

You were at last in the final semester before you would graduate university, moving on into your professional life, and this is when you enrolled in a course taught by Professor Huang Guanheng, or Hendery, as he insisted on being called.

Quickly it became clear that Hendery was very intelligent. He brought up current topics from around the world at the beginning of every class, encouraging his students to weigh in. He spoke multiple languages--Mandarin, Cantonese, Korean, English, a decent bit of Japanese--and was well-traveled. He was an ace in his field, having already achieved a doctorate degree even in his early twenties.

Maybe you were a little in love with him.

You certainly weren’t alone in becoming enamored with the young professor. Hendery was charming on top of everything else, and frequently he wandered around campus or had open office hours, during which there was bound to be at least one student seated in the chair across from his desk or a couple students walking beside him across campus.

You couldn’t help your attraction. His intelligence is what drew you in the most. Sitting there in class listening to him, you would just get lost in it, forgetting to take notes as you just listened to him explaining things in his smooth voice. Admittedly, more than once in those early weeks, you got wet sitting there in class.

You’d heard the term sapiosexual before, and at the time you’d thought it was ridiculous. It was something pretentious asshole men said to women who they thought were stupid---”I’m a sapiosexual, I like intelligent women”---but sitting there in Hendery’s classroom, you at last truly understood it.

It was sexy listening to someone talk about something that they’re passionate and knowledgeable about.

You spent your fair share of time sitting in Hendery’s office during his open office hours, folding yourself into that seat across from him or at least gathering in the doorway on the more popular days. You’d walked with him on campus, sitting down for lunch with him and a few other students several times.

Sometimes you liked to deceive yourself into thinking that Hendery might have a crush on you too. The way he would smile softly at you while you were sitting across from him, your feet up on the seat, your knees to your chest as you told him all about this topic you were researching for your mid-term paper. There were times he would catch your eye during class, flash a smile at you, and hold your gaze for a moment longer before moving on.

Momentously, there was a rainy day when you were leaving the building at the same time as him, and Hendery had lended you the dry space beneath his umbrella. He’d accompanied you to the bus stop, waiting there with you beneath his umbrella, talking and laughing about an anime you’d both been watching.

You wanted Hendery to like you as more than just a student. You were of a similar age, so there was nothing inappropriate in regards to that. But the touch of the morally gray space is what held you back from making your feelings known to him. He was your professor, you were his student, and as much as you might want to believe otherwise, a difference in power came into play. So you often did your best to eliminate that distinction when you were alone with him.

On a sunny yet chilly Wednesday afternoon just past the mid-point in October, you were seated in Hendery’s office. You’d brought two lattes from the campus coffee shop, a paper you wanted his feedback on, and your delightful presence, hoping to get him in a relaxed mood. The week was winding down, and this weekend held an extra day, which almost everyone was excited about.

“Are you doing anything fun this weekend, Hendery?” You ask, sipping your latte, watching him through the thin veil of rising steam. You’ve got one leg crossed over the other, your foot bouncing along to a song that’s playing quietly from his laptop’s speaker.

He’s scanning through your printed copy of your paper, the tip of a pen held between his teeth as he holds it ready in his hand to mark anything he thinks needs changed. “Hmm?”

“The extra-long weekend.” You lean forward, sitting your cup down on the edge of his desk as you scoot your seat closer. “An extra day for fun. Will you be having any?”

Hendery glances up then, his teeth release the pen. “That’s this weekend?”

You nod. “And the following weekend is the department’s Halloween party. Are you coming to that?”

Hendery drops the pen completely, leaning back in his chair to regard you instead of your paper. “I’m pretty certain I would get in trouble if I skipped. Everyone’s been telling me I have to go. Costumes are mandatory. Hangovers the next morning are also probably mandatory.” He lifts the second latte that you brought just for him, and he takes a sip before he asks, “Are you going?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it. There’s a series of bonfires that burn all night, which is from some old superstition about warding off spirits. Usually there’s someone screening a horror movie.” You have memories of the past few Halloweens flashing through your mind as you tell him, “There’s dancing and awards, photo ops, and alumni come in from out of town for it, so it’s great for networking as well.”

Hendery nods. “What’s the dress code? Like, what are you wearing for a costume?”

You consider making up a costume, but as Professor Hendery lowers his gaze back to your paper and he takes a drink of the latte you brought for him, you decide to tell him the truth.

“I’m going as a naughty schoolgirl.”

Hendery chokes and spills the rest of his latte all at once. He coughs and hits his fist against his chest as the mouthful of latte suddenly goes down the wrong way. You sit there, watching a blush rise in his cheeks, as he hurries to grab a handful of tissues to wipe up the spilt coffee.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

The copy of your paper sitting on his desk is a sodden mess now, but you don’t mind. It was an excuse to be in his office anyway.

Hendery mops up the coffee with a second handful of tissues, dumping them all in a small trash bin beside his desk. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “I, um… What did you say?”

You laugh.

He’s avoiding looking at you for the moment, pretending to be drying a spot on the desk that was never even touched by the latte.

“I said, a school girl,” you smile as you say it, taking note of the way his eyes flick up toward yours. “There really isn’t much of a dress code for the party, just nothing that’s too revealing, you know. They still have to pretend like there are some standards.”

Hendery nods, dumping the last of the tissues (and after a final look at your ruined paper, that as well) into the trash. He clears his throat. “So, my idea of a Chippendale probably wouldn’t fly?”

Now it’s your turn to choke on your drink, though you burst into laughter rather than just choking. Hendery laughs as well, his eyes following you as you fall back in your seat. You’re still laughing as you say, “I would love to see that. The faces of the department heads when you walk in wearing that!”

The visual image of the other professors’ faces makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, but the sobering thought is when you actually imagine what Hendery would look like in a Chippendale costume. You can just imagine him, shirtless in a tiny black pair of shorts, the cuffs and collar of a nice shirt with a little black bow tie all that adorns him.

Your laughter tapers off, and suddenly you realize you’re looking at him, and he’s looking right at you. And you’re thinking about him half-naked.

“Um, I should probably get going. I have a night class to get to.” You quickly stand up, scooping your bag off the floor and grabbing your latte from where you’d sat it when your laughing fit began. “I’ll see you tomorrow for class, and I’ll bring you another copy of my paper. Try not to spill a latte on it next time,” you tease.

Hendery smiles, a smile that’s soft around the edges, warming his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You can’t get the image out of your mind. Hendery in his tiny Chippendale outfit.

It doesn’t help anything that after the weekend there’s a rumor circulating the department that a small group of students spotted Hendery at a nightclub. You try your best not to listen to it (mostly because you don’t want to hear about him grinding up on some pretty girl at a nightclub), but you can’t help overhearing the gossip.

Which leads you eventually right back to your seat in Hendery’s office.

He has the finished feedback on your paper, and as you sit in the rest across from him, you find yourself fidgeting a lot more than normal. You can’t look at him because every time you do you either picture a bare chest with a little shirt collar encircling his neck, or you just visualize him in a club with another girl’s lips on her throat. You can actually see a hint of a hickey peeking out from beneath the collar of the sweater he’s wearing today.

Hendery clears his throat, and as you look up at him, he tugs at his collar a little, pulling it higher in an attempt to cover the mark.

“The paper’s good. You’re detailed, thorough. You hit all the points.” Hendery slides it across the desk to you. “I didn’t really have many notes, but I did mark them in there. Uh,” he laughs a little, sitting back in his chair and running his fingers along the back of his head. “I’m really not sure why you thought you needed feedback on this, it’s pretty much perfect the way it is. It’s a really great deep-dive into the topic, with some really interesting perspectives I’ve never considered before. Have you thought about pursuing this more?”

Your chest goes warm.

“I have, actually.” You smile and pull the paper from the desk, holding it in your lap and flipping through the pages for any signs of Hendery’s blue ink markings. “It took me a few years, some traveling abroad and discovering myself, and then a tiny bit of failure, but I landed in this major.” You spot some blue ink, but it’s just Hendery starring a section and a scribbled compliment. “I realized how much I love this area, like it’s a big interest of mine.”

You could talk about it for ages. This paper is just a condensed version of what you would really like to write, but this isn’t your graduate thesis, so you decided a very, very abridged version would suffice. Though as you sit there in Hendery’s office, you do expand more on the topic.

To your delight, Hendery asks questions. He mostly just sits and listens, smiling and nodding along, watching the way you light up as you talk about this.

By the time you’re wrapping up, you’ve forgotten about the mental imagery of him in a skimpy outfit or at a club. You’re just replaying him sitting across from you, excited to listen to you talk about this topic that you’re deeply passionate about.

You don’t even realize how late it’s gotten until your phone buzzes, and as you glance at the notification on the screen, you catch sight of the time as well.

“Oh!” You sit up straight. “It’s already after six. I didn’t even realize—“

Hendery too has straightened in his seat. Already he’s reaching to close his laptop, grabbing his phone. You’re on your feet, rolling his notated copy of your paper tightly and squeezing it into your bag.

“I should get going. I’m sorry, Hendery. I didn’t mean to use up all of your office hours today. You probably had actual work to get done.” You’re not looking at him, just trying to get this damn paper in your bag, but it keeps jamming up against something and not going in.

And then you feel his fingers touch your elbow.

As you turn your head, the rolled paper slides right into your bag. Hendery is standing right there at your elbow. He’s come around his desk, his bag over his shoulder, jacket draped over his arm, keys and phone in hand. “It’s alright,” he tells you with a smile. “I would much rather listen to you talk than worry about grading freshmen papers.” He glances towards the door and then back to you. “Can I walk you to the bus stop? It’s getting dark out.”

You agree, appreciating that he cares enough to not let you walk in the dark across campus.

It’s nice walking side by side with him. With night falling, a cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that line the campus paths, you feel much more relaxed than normal with him. Without a desk between you, without the confining walls around you, you feel freer to just talk with him without the idea of professor-and-student there.

“Have you decided on your costume for the party next weekend yet?” You ask him.

Hendery makes a thoughtful noise. “I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll just be a professor.” He looks sideways at you, a look that you’re not sure how to interpret.

“Well, that’s boring,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

“How’s it boring? You’re going as a student! That’s what you are.” His argument isn’t as sound as he thinks it is.

You shake your head. “It’s not quite the same. I’m going as a school girl. A naughty school girl, remember.” Hendery’s gaze only touches briefly on yours now, staring absolutely forward as you keep walking. “The Chippendale dancer idea wasn’t bad, maybe keep that option available.”

Hendery laughs.

“I heard that you were at a club over the weekend,” you blurt out before you can help yourself. “Seeking inspiration for the Chippendale character?”

Again, Hendery laughs, but it’s not quite the same as the last one. This one is a little tense. “No, my friend invited me. The club just recently opened, and his friend is a DJ for the club, so he got us in for free.” When you look over at him again, he’s tugging once more at his sweater’s collar, pulling it up over the bruise on his neck. He clears his throat. “Are you really going dressed as a school girl? Like the little uniform and everything?”

This is where the barely-there layer of formality entirely fades away. Hendery turns his head to the side, looking right at you.

You tilt your head. “Mm, maybe. Guess you’ll just have to see at the party.”

Up ahead at the end of the path is the bus stop, and your bus is sitting there, a few people climbing on. You’re going to have to run if you want to make it in time.

“Thanks for walking me, Hendery!” You start to jog away, calling over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow!”

He stands there, rooted to the spot, watching after you as you make it to the bus and hop on just in time.

You spend pretty much the entirety of the day leading up to the department’s Halloween party to get ready for it.

You go out to buy some last minute necessities for your outfit, you spend quite a while trying on various iterations of the costume, and finally as the hour draws near, you check yourself out in the mirror hanging on your apartment wall.

This probably borders on inappropriate.

A cropped button-down that’s tight over your tits ends about two inches above your navel. Your skirt is a pleated solid gray, just long enough to cover your ass. And then you spend a little extra time deciding between fishnets, thigh highs, or foregoing them altogether.

By the time you walk out of your apartment to head to the party, you’ve got your hair fixed in two little pigtail braids. You topped your outfit with a full-length blazer that stretches down to about mid-thigh, offering some modesty while you’re on the bus. You went with the stockings that leave just a few bare inches of thigh beneath the skirt, some cherry red lipstick, and a pair of heels just to really add to the sexiness and the provocative theme of the costume.

The night is nippy. A sharp breeze cuts right through the shield your blazer provides, completely freezing your bare legs, and as you walk from the bus stop to the site of the party, you begin to wonder if you made the wrong choice. Sometimes avoiding hypothermia is a better option than being sexy. Even if a hoe never gets cold, you think a hoe might just get a little chilly.

As soon as you arrive at the party, you feel better. Bonfires ring the area, putting off a lot of heat, and in the press of the crowd, bodies packed in together, alcohol flowing, there’s no such thing as the cold.

The lawn that stretches out in front of your department’s building on campus has been transformed for the event. In addition to the bonfires, there are a few trees as well as a fountain topped by a statue of a man who holds some mysterious significance to the university. Lights are strung through the tree branches, a temporary bar/snack area has been set up under the safety of the lights, and there’s even another smaller firepit there. There is an inflatable theater screen at one side of the lawn, and as you arrive, there are already a couple dozen people stretched out on blankets or chairs in front of the screen as a horror movie plays. Some people are dancing, some are just talking and networking.

You find your friends first.

For the last few semesters since you transferred to this major, you’ve grown close with some of the students you’ve shared most of your classes with. A few guys and girls, but most notably Mark and Renjun.

Mark’s dancing with a girl, whispering something in her ear that has her giggling. Renjun stands a few feet away, arms folding with a mildly disgusted look on his face as he pointedly doesn’t look at them. But when he sees you his eyes open wide, mouth falling open. You let the blazer fall open to reveal the tight and short outfit inside. Renjun looks at you in total disbelief.

“Look at you!” He calls out at your approach. “Is it wishful thinking or an actual costume?”

You’re not the only one dressed in scandalously little, and everyone follows right along the borderline of the parameters. But, to be fair, you’re dressed like a slutty schoolgirl while you’re surrounded by professors, which does seem a bit more like toeing the line of propriety than the slutty nurses and slutty vampires you’re seeing.

But something about your costume just feels right. Like Renjun said, maybe it’s more of a wishful thought than just a costume.

“Very sexy,” Renjun says, and even Mark pulls away from the girl he’s dancing with to look at you. Their frequent tag-alongs, in the form of Jeno (who is Mark’s childhood best friend) and Haechan (who would have the world believe that they’re in a love triangle) and freshman Jisung (who idolizes them) are there too, each of them ogling you a bit.

Jeno and Jisung have the decency to pretend like they’re not looking, but Haechan checks you out openly, even going so far as to suggest that since he’s dressed as a police officer, he should punish you in private.

You want nothing to do with that, so you leave them all behind to go in search of something to drink.

This party is such an interesting thing, you think as you walk around. To have professors and students mingling, alcohol, music and dancing all together just seems like a situation begging for disaster.

You can’t entirely help yourself as you search the crowd for Hendery.

You highly doubt that he actually would come to this dressed as a Chippendale dancer, but you’re excited to see him regardless. You pass other professors, even stopping to chat with some of them. Classmates and strangers alike check you out in your costume, especially once you lose the blazer, leaving it safely in Renjun’s care when you cross his path again.

It’s been over an hour that you’ve been wandering the party when you finally see him. Hendery is standing beside a bonfire at the far end of the lawn from everything else, and he’s busy talking to two other professors, so he doesn’t see you at first. But you take your time looking at him.

Tonight, he’s dressed as a policeman. The dark navy outfit is fitted perfectly to Hendery’s frame, tight on his ass, hugging his shoulders. There’s even a pair of handcuffs glinting on his belt.

As you walk around the fire, waiting for his conversation to wrap up, you hear a distant announcement from a speaker. Something about a costume contest, possibly.

Party-goers begin to walk away from this bonfire, away from the other bonfires around you. You watch as the party begins to draw in toward the center. Hendery and the other two professors begin to make their move as well. He lags a step behind them, his head swiveling side to side as he walks, and you move quickly up behind him, you give the handcuffs a quick tug.

Hendery spins around.

You hold your hands up in surrender, quickly saying to him. “My apologies, officer. I just had to see if they were real.” Over his shoulder, you see the other professors drawing further and further away without noticing they lost their colleague.

He smiles as he looks you up and down. “You really did come dressed like this. Aren’t you cold?”

The couple of drinks you’ve already had since you arrived at this party have loosened your lips a bit, perhaps more than they should’ve been. You smile, leaning in closer to him, as you whisper, “And what if I say I am cold? Will you warm me up, Professor?”

Hendery’s throat bobs. He looks around quickly to see if anyone is paying attention.

They’re not. There’s not so many people out at this end of the lawn anymore, and the few that are out here aren’t doing a lot of people-watching.

When Hendery turns his head back around to face you, his gaze seems drawn down to your bare belly, then a little higher to the low cut of the top, unbuttoned down over your tits. You take a small step closer to him.

“Or should I call you Officer?” You ask, reaching again for the handcuffs. “I like a man in uniform.”

Hendery tips his head back, staring up at the sky, or maybe praying for forgiveness. But with his head tipped back like this, you can clearly see the remnants of that hickey low on his throat, barely even concealed by the collar of his uniform.

You badly want to press your lips to it, to remake that mark as your own.

You’ve almost definitely loosened up a little too much, inhibitions thrown to the wind as you fully act on your thought, leaning in and just brushing your lips over Hendery’s throat.

Hendery gasps, but he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t make any move to get you to stop, only wraps an arm around your waist. Actually, he probably pulls you even closer instead of putting any amount of distance between you and him.

It’s probably at the same moment as you remember who you are and what you’re doing that Hendery recalls the exact same thing. You’re a professor and a student, touching in ways that a professor and a student shouldn’t.

Yet you tilt your head back, leaving the skin on his neck cold as your lips move away.

“Do you like me, Hendery?” You ask, and your hands clutch at the front of his police costume. You can feel his heartbeat, and you stare into his warm brown eyes, waiting for an answer. You want to kiss him, more so than you did even a moment ago because now his lips are right there in front of yours. Pink, inviting. If you just pressed forward on your toes, you could do it.

“I like you.” He says, but he says it in the way anyone might say it. I like you as a person. I like you as someone I have a professional relationship with.

You sigh. “But not the way I like you?”

“I didn’t say that.” His throat bobs again, his lips twitch. Hendery’s tongue dips between his lips, wetting his bottom lip. “I like you in the only way I can right now. You’re my student, I’m your professor. There are professional boundaries I don’t think I can cross, no matter how much my subconscious tries to push me over them.”

Can you even blame it only on the alcohol? Maybe it’s just you getting tired of holding all of this wanting inside you?

You tug on his shirt at the same time as you press forward on your toes, crushing your lips against Hendery’s.

He kisses you back.

It’s wrong and you both know it. Wrong, but you’re not entirely sure why. You’re both consenting adults. You both want each other, you’re of a similar age, neither of you is committed to anyone else. But there’s the power he holds over you, the rules of conduct (written and unwritten). So, you find yourself in the confusingly gray space between morality and immorality. To do it, or not to do it? That is the question that weighs heavily on you at that moment.

Though, not heavily enough that either of you ends the kiss.

Hendery’s arms both press against your back, pulling you in so you’re held against his chest. The handcuffs at his belt dig against your hip.

A sudden explosion of voices from the crowd in the center of the party is what finally draws you and Hendery apart.

You stare at each other for a moment, tangled together.

“I shouldn’t have—” Hendery starts to say, but you kiss him quickly again to make him quiet. “You can’t just—” Again, you kiss him to shut him up, and this time Hendery smiles as he kisses you in return. His hand comes up behind your head, and you think he’s just going to kiss you deeper, but instead Hendery tugs at one of your pigtail braids.

This time, when you open your mouth to speak, he’s the one to dip in and kiss you. You push at his chest, and Hendery backs away only enough to give you room. “Should we go somewhere else? We’re a little exposed out here.”

“You’re the one that started it.” Hendery’s hand falls away from your head, fingertips trailing down your arm to your hand, which he picks up in his. “I don’t know–Do you think we could maybe put a pause on it? I’ve never done this with a student before, and, honestly my head is reeling a little right now. If anyone sees us, if you’re just drunk right now, if the board of directors finds out….”

You don’t know why, but you put your hands to Hendery’s cheeks and bring his mouth down to yours.

The kiss seems to calm him a little bit.

“I’m not drunk,” you whisper the words against his lips. “Or maybe I am a tiny bit, but I swear to you, Huang Guanheng, that I would’ve kissed you a hundred times sober. What’s the saying? Drunk actions are sober thoughts, or something like that.”

Hendery laughs a little. “I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“No, but it’s true.”

Movement over Hendery’s shoulder catches your eye, a shadow passing in front of the next bonfire along the outer ring of the lawn. You push him lightly backwards, and Hendery must be able to read it on your face because he immediately drops back fully.

“Your office,” you tell him as you quickly walk by him, “Meet me there in, like, ten minutes.”

You don’t wait to hear Hendery’s answer. You don’t look over your shoulder at him, nor do you look in the direction of the bonfire where you’d seen a shadow passing by. You don’t look to see if anyone else could have possibly witnessed what just occurred between you and Hendery.

Straight for the building, you’re confident that you’ll be able to get inside. They have the doors facing the lawn unlocked for people to use the restrooms inside during the party, so no one looks twice at you for walking through the doors of the building, and you do make sure that no one’s watching as you slip through the door of the stairwell.

Hendery’s office is on the third floor, and you make it there with still several minutes left in the ten minute window you gave him. The door is locked, but you once watched him reach above the door lintel for a secret key when you met him for his office hours. Stretching up on your toes now, brushing your fingertips just barely along the dusty edge of the doorframe, your fingers brush against a cool piece of metal, knocking it to the floor. Your fingers are shaking a little, though you don’t realize it until you’re trying to fit the key in the lock, but you somehow manage, and you even replace the key in its hiding spot before you slip inside and close the door behind you.

You consider turning on the light or leaving the room dark. You wonder if you should sit in your usual seat, maybe sit in his seat, or just pop yourself right up to sit on the edge of his desk.

You’re nervous, excited, very much liking where this is going. You had hoped that Hendery had feelings for you too, and even if his feelings are just sexual, you don’t really care. You can do just sex. You’ve done that with guys before that you had feelings for. You’re almost used to the one-sidedness of love, so if that’s what this turns out to be with Hendery, well, there are only a few weeks left in the semester before you graduate, then you won’t have to see him again if this doesn’t work out.

You’re still fidgeting around, unsure of where to sit or how to position yourself, though you did finally decide to turn on the desktop lamp to offer at least a little bit of light, when the door finally opens.

All at once, your confidence floods back in, and you drop down to sit on the edge of his desk, crossing one leg over the other as you lean back on your hands.

“Hello, Professor.”

Hendery steps inside, never pulling his gaze away from you as he presses the door shut behind him. He leans back against it.

“You’re really playing it up, aren’t you? The naughty school girl.”

You smile at him, trying to look your most coquettish as you say, “And what if I am? Are you going to pretend that you don’t like it, sir?”

Hendery pushes away from the door, coming closer until his knuckles fold against the desk top on either side of your thighs. His lips are a breath away from yours. “No. I like it a little too much, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you knew about it, sweetheart, but I have a thing for little outfits like this. Anything with a short skirt, tiny tight top.” His thumbs stretch out from his fists to brush along your thighs. “So imagine my total surprise when I turned around and saw you tonight like one of my wet dreams in the flesh.”

You shiver. “Have you dreamt about me, Professor?”

Hendery makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Too many times. You’d think I’m gross if I gave you even a ballpark number. How many nights I’ve dreamt of having you right here on my desk, spread out in an outfit too similar to the one you’re in right now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Your voice comes out breathy. You tilt your face up, wanting him to kiss you again, and Hendery’s eyes flick back and forth, trying to read any sign in your eyes of this not being exactly what you want. “Pretend like you’re dreaming, Professor, what would you do with me?”

The first thing he does is kiss you again, his hand flying up to grip your little pigtail braids both in his hand as he kisses you roughly. Hendery presses you flat onto your back on the desk, and you slide your hands over his chest, one hand sliding up to his shoulder, the other down to where he’s got his shirt tucked into his pants.

“You know, I like uniforms too,” you tell him as Hendery’s mouth drifts away from yours to kiss along your jaw. “Authority figures are very sexy.”

Hendery makes a small sound, his hand sliding up the outside of your thigh. You eagerly spread your legs apart, and he sinks forward. His hand reaches up under your skirt, flicking it up to expose your panties, and that’s when you reveal, to Hendery’s absolute delight, that you’re not wearing any panties.

He stands up straight to look down at you. “You’re actually a little fucking slut, aren’t you? To wear such a short skirt like that in public without any panties. Any perverted boy could’ve seen your pussy, sweetheart.”

“Are you going to charge me with public indecency, sir?”

Hendery makes a little face of confusion, and then he laughs. “Am I roleplaying as a cop, or do you want me to be just your professor?”

You think about it for just a moment before you decide. “You are my professor, but tonight you’re a cop. I wanna see your baton.” Boldly, you paw at the front of his pants, fingers snagging at his belt.

Hendery grabs your hands, and you let him push your arms above your head, pinning them against his desk. “Well, as your arresting officer, I can’t let you lay hands on me. Or else I will have to show you my weapon.”

“Oh, God, please do.” You rock your hips up off his desk, and with the way that your skirt is flipped up and your pussy bare to Hendery’s eyes, there’s no hiding how much you want him.

Hendery slides one hand down to your pussy, fingers sliding between your folds. “Do you submit to a strip search?”

You nod. “Of course, anything for an officer in uniform.”

Hendery’s hand leaves your wrists above your head, the other hand still spreading your slick around. His fingers make quick work of the buttons on your blouse, though to be fair there aren’t many of them. Soon your top lies open to either side of your chest, revealing the pretty bra beneath that pushes your tits up nicely.

Just two days ago you sat in this office chatting about your developing ideas on your study topic until that conversation spun off into talking about anime with him. Sitting there then; you hadn’t even imagined you would find yourself like this, exposed beneath Hendery’s eyes, spread out on his desk, his fingers plunging into your pussy.

How are you ever going to sit in this room again and just have a casual conversation with him without thinking of this. Without vividly remembering the feeling of Hendery’s fingers curling against your walls, his thumb at your clit, the press of his cock through his pants against your leg.

“Is that your baton, sir?” You moan. “I wanna see it.”

Hendery, clearly amused by you begging to see his cock, gives in. He undoes his belt, unbuttons his shirt, and then he undies his pants as well. “You want to see it so badly, sweetheart, here it is.”

When he drops his pants, you lift up on your elbows to get a good look. Much like he’s dreamt about you, you’ve spent hours fantasizing in class about him.

Seeing his cock, you’re well-pleased.

He’s exactly what you’d hoped for.

Exactly as over-the-top as your fantasies would have let you believe. Hendery’s packing a big cock, above average, swollen and heavy as he wraps his hand around it right now. He moves closer to you, and when he taps his cock against your clit, your thighs jump, a surprised whine spilling from your lips.

You’re a little too intoxicated on the idea of fucking Hendery to even think about the repercussions of unprotected sex. You know you’re both likely sexually active, that even with your birth control there’s a risk of pregnancy, that if he cums inside you it’s gonna be messy on top of those other two issues. But at the moment, you don’t really care.

You just want him.

You reach for him, forgetting what he’d said just moments ago about not touching him. Maybe he forgot too, because when you wrap both of your hands around his cock, Hendery doesn’t voice a single complaint.

His fingers return to playing with your pussy, and you stroke his cock with both hands.

The tip of his cock still glides right against your clit, your pussy growing wetter and wetter, each stroke of his fingers inside you making more of your arousal leak out.

Hendery’s head is lowered so you can’t see his face, but you know he’s just watching your hands on him, watching his fingers disappearing inside your sweet pussy. He grinds into the circle of your fingers, thrusting forward to meet your downward strokes.

“Officer, shouldn’t you check to make sure I’m not hiding anything deep inside?” You spread your legs a little wider on the desk.

Hendery looks up at your face then.

“You sure about that, sweetheart? Offering yourself up, I could charge you with attempting to bribe an officer too.” Hendery brushes your hands away from his cock, his fingers leave your pussy as well. “Though, I suppose I’d better do a really thorough search, hadn’t I?”

His hands take over from yours, slicking his cock with his arousal beading from the tip.

You moan, sitting up on the desk just enough to slide your arms out of your shirt. The material flutters down over the edge of the desk, and as soon as it’s out of the way, Hendery pushes his hand gently against your sternum, pressing your back flat to the desk again.

The lamplight falls right over your face, casting a decent glow up at Hendery’s face and body above yours. You like this angle. Seeing his bare chest, his toned abdomen, and of course that blessedly big cock.

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly, not really meaning for him to hear it, but of course he does.

Hendery teases his cock along your slit, and he leans down over you, holding himself above you with one arm to the side above your head. His fingers brush the top of your head as he lowers his face over yours. “Maybe I’ll let you go on good behavior. No charges for your indecency or bribery.”

“Yes, Officer.” You breathe in, taking a deep breath as Hendery rolls his hips forward, impaling you with his cock. You groan a little, perhaps a bit underprepared, and Hendery pauses, but you bring your hands up to his sides, squeezing against his ribs. “Just give it to me.”

Hendery’s the kind of big that just fits so snuggly and perfectly inside you, not leaving a single spot inside your pussy untouched. He’s really a perfect fit, his lower abdomen right there against your clit, his cock fully buried inside you as he grinds in small circles and just lets you get used to him.

“Fuck, ‘Dery,” you mumble, sliding one hand to his elbow, squeezing. “This. Good. Should I have made a move months ago?”

He laughs a little, resting his forehead against yours, and he starts moving, pulling his hips back just to snap forward, driving his cock into you with shallow thrusts. Hendery pushes up, lifting himself up so he’s looking down at you as he fucks you.

He wants to see the way your tits bounce in your bra, wants to see your pretty pussy sucking around his cock. Hendery wants to look at you in this pretty hazy golden lighting, looking like a dream of his made real.

Since he fits inside of you so well, it’s like constant stimulation, and when Hendery actually starts to thumb at your clit again, it’s almost too much.

For tonight, you’re more than happy to just lie here on the desk and take it. His cock has you feeling boneless, feeling good, and maybe some day in the future you’ll be able to take a more active role, but tonight you’re finally fucking the man you’ve spent the last few months lusting after, so you’ll take the insane satisfaction his cock is giving you.

Your hands press against Hendery’s sides and his back, nails scraping and digging in. Hendery hisses and groans, thrusting in harder each time your fingernails bite into his skin.

The constant friction against your clit and the matching spot inside your pussy soon has you feeling close. You want to cum, you want him to cum with you.

You want to feel the pulses of his cum deep in your belly, feel your pussy throb around him as you cum. You want Hendery to mark you up, and you want to leave your mark on him too. Let people see it and wonder if you gave them to each other.

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish. Hendery’s orgasm comes up faster than yours. He bows his head, and pulls out of you.

With one hand Hendery grabs at your skirt, pulling it down into place, but holding the front of it up so that as he jerks himself off, as his orgasm hits, Hendery shoots strings of cum across the inside of your skirt, over your pussy, upper thighs, and your abdomen.

Hendery drops his cock, pushing his fingers back inside your pussy, working fast to get you off too, his fingers paying special attention to stimulating your sweet spot.

The pleasure busts inside you, flooding through you, and your hips lift off the desk with the force of it. You can feel yourself squirting as you cum, dribbling over Hendery’s hand, leaking down onto the desk.

He lifts you up before you’re done, pulling you off the desk onto unstable legs.

“Can’t let you get your skirt too messy,” he murmurs as his fingers stroke you through the last waves of your orgasm. Your body is twitching, legs barely holding you up, only Hendery’s arm around your waist really keeping you upright.

You press your cheek against his chest, catching your breath, giving yourself a moment to recover from the intensity of that. Hendery just holds you, though after he pulls his fingers away from your twitching pussy you do hear him reach for the tissues in his desk, cleaning up his hand and arm and probably the surface of the desk too.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” Hendery’s tone is soft, distracted as he tries to clean up one-handed.

You don’t want to turn your head to see the mess, but you twist around anyway. “I made a mess. Feel like it’s not fair to make you clean up after me.”

“I don’t mind,” Hendery laughs a little. He runs his one hand up and down your back. “I thought it was sexy, kinda cute how you couldn’t handle my cock.”

“I could handle it!” You push at his chest, leaning back to frown up at him.

Hendery smiles, bumping his fingers beneath your chin. “Sure you did, sweetheart. Lying there all boneless, moaning like a whore for me, and all I could see was the whites of your eyes. My cock that good?”

You frown. “I think I need to knock you down a peg, Professor. Who let your ego grow so big?”

He just smiles at you affectionately. “Maybe next time you can prove to me that my cock doesn’t make you dumb. But if I’m right and you turn a little cock-dumb for me, then we continue private lessons, my sweet schoolgirl. If you’re right, and you can actually handle my cock, I’ll do whatever you like.”

You think about it, trying to think about what you want from him. But deep down you know, it doesn’t matter what you decide on, because he’s right. You’ll just default into a cock-dumb whore when you have him again.

“I’ll accept that bet.” You break out of his arms, putting a little distance between you and him, holding out your hand to him. “Shake on it.”

Hendery is all smiles as he takes your hand and shakes on the bet.

After that, you each pull your clothes back on. You start to grab a tissue to wipe at the mess of his cum inside your skirt and at the top of your thighs, but change your mind, deciding to wear it like a badge, a little secret present from your favorite professor. And besides, when your skirt is down, you can’t really see the splatters of his cum dried on your thighs unless you’re really, really looking for it.

“You might still want a tissue,” Hendery tells you when he notices you withdraw your hand. When you give him a questioning look, he points at his face and then at yours. “Your lipstick. You look a little like a clown, but I mean that in as kind a way as I possibly can.”

Hendery has a small mirror hanging on the wall of the office, and when you walk over to look into it, you see that your lipstick is smeared all around your lips. How Hendery’s face isn’t totally smudged with it, you don’t understand.

You wipe at it with a tissue until you’re satisfied that you’ve taken all of your lipstick off, but Hendery still watches you with a tender smile. He leans in, thumb wiping at the corner of your mouth, and then he kisses you again. His thumb presses lightly to your chin, tilting your mouth up against his.

“I’ll see you down there.” He murmurs, pressing one last kiss before he’s turning away, disappearing through his office door.

You wait a few minutes before you follow. You lock the door behind you, stop in the bathroom on the ground floor just to double-check your lipstick clean up and to pee, and then you rejoin the Halloween party.

It’s still going, and you don’t think anyone has missed you even though you were gone for a while. You walk with a little bit of swagger in your step, feeling the night air tickle against your bare pussy, the sticky feel of Hendery’s cum drying against your inner thighs.

You find your friends again lounging on the grass in front of the horror movie screening.

Mark is making out with the girl from earlier on the next blanket, and as soon as you arrive Renjun happily hands over your blazer. “I saved this from being used as their pillow,” he tells you, nodding over at the couple. “Where did you disappear to?”

“I was just making my rounds. Saying hi, talking with some of the alumni.” You sink down onto the blanket with Renjun, Jeno, and Haechan, though you use the blazer to keep yourself covered up. “I had a lesson on the gray space between what’s moral and immoral.”

All three of them look curious, but at that moment, the gray space himself walks by. Hendery winks, and you just smile to yourself, excited already by the thought of what your next time will hold.

#hendery smut #nct smut #wayv smut #hendery #wayv #nct #nct kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2022

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