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honeybleed · 4 months

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— ★ BIRTHDAY BOY // PORTGAS D. ACE

content & warnings: fem!reader, canon-verse, spoilers about ace’s family if you haven’t got up to marineford 🚶🏽‍♂️, whitebeard crew member!reader, mentions of alcohol, smut (69, fingering, breastplay) ace has a dirty mouth in this, mdni, past traumas, mentions of grooming, death (maternal mortality), angsty but comfort & fluff

author’s note: happy birthday (01/01) to my freckled sunshine eee

word count: 2.3k

"Eh? What do you mean Ace doesn't celebrate his birthday?" You questioned as you sat with the others for dinner.

"Beats me." Thatch chuckled. "He gets all pissy when you bring it up."

Whitebeard's crew always felt like a family affair, and Ace had always been celebrated. A party animal like Ace not wanting to enjoy his special day sounded completely absurd to you.

Ace was sat on the crow's nest, overlooking the orange hues of the sunset as the Moby Dick swayed in a rhythmic grace on the calm waters.

The last time one of the rowdy crew members insisted on making a big spectacle for his birthday and refused to drop it, resulted in a fistfight where Ace had knocked the poor man's tooth out and left him with a black eye.

He'd learned to laugh it off now.

"Mind if I join you?" You grinned after you clambered the mast.

"Sure." Ace said with his trademark wolfish grin, scooting up. A comfortable silence fell over the both of you as you gazed up at the seagulls calling as they flew.

"Do you remember when we met?" You said, turning to face him.

"Yeah.." He chortled. "You gave your poor sis hell."

Your sister was one of Whitebeard's nurses for his deteriorating health. She often made remarks he was the one patient who would drink while receiving an IV drip.

And there was nothing anybody could do about it. You always snuck on board to get a peep of the colossal figure dubbed "The Strongest Man in the World."

The other members always treated you like a pest, chucking you out every time you snuck on board much to your dismay.

That is until you helped a wandering Fire Fist Ace sneak away from marines, proving your loyalty and worth.

Your sister always struggled with raising you and she knew you were better suited for life on the seas. So she let you go. It was a stepping stone for life, and you were eternally grateful.

"Usually I'm quite good at going undetected by those floozies." Ace chuckled. "I was probably hungover or somethin'!"

"Ace...you mind if I ask you something?" You asked finally mustering up the courage.

"Shoot." He responded.

"...Why don't you celebrate your birthday?"

He tensed up, jaw clenching. Ace had a soft spot for you so he bit his tongue, not wanting to be an asshole and yell.

"Whose big mouth flapped their gums?" He settled on, voice still venomous despite his attempts at restraining himself as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

"Don't blame them, Ace...I was snooping around. I'm sorry."

He made a disgruntled noise as his face crinkled up in disgust.

"Don't say sorry, jeez. Making me feel like an asshat."

You snorted at his comment.

"What's the big flap about birthdays anyways? It's just like any ole day." He said gruffly.

"You get older.." You said softly.

"And it's the day you came into this world. It deserves to be celebrated."

Ace's mind replayed that sentence on a loop for some odd reason as he lay on his bed after most of the crew headed to turn in for the night.

Turmoil was always brewing within Ace. Despite the polite, happy-go-lucky and cheeky front he put out, his mind felt as if he was stuck in quicksand of wondering why he was alive.

He loathed his father. He loved his mother and sometimes, very rarely he would lay in bed thinking about the way she protected him, so much so it had cost her life.

Nobody has memories of birth, but he liked to picture being held by his mother. During infancy. During childhood. Hell, even as a teenager before he took off.

This already stabbing guilt worsened knowing she had died that same day he was born.

He constantly blamed himself. It was irrational, he knew. Sometimes sacrifices are made by a person and as devastating as they may be, they should be respected regardless.

Garp never spoke about Ace's parents to him. He had let it slip after getting blind drunk at one of the mountain bandit's raves that Ace was the spitting image of Roger with Rouge's freckles.

He loathed his father. He loved his mother.

So the information he had inherited something from her sparked joy in his otherwise miserable existence.

Ace was torn away from his dark thoughts when he heard a knock on his cabin.

"Oh...hey Y/N-" He trailed off when he saw you holding a sprinkled cupcake with a single candle planted into it.

"What's all this...?" He asked eyebrow arched.

"It's for you.." You smiled. "I was gonna borrow a lighter but you can light it yourself, mhm?"

"That I can." He chuckled wryly. He stepped to the side to usher you in and closed the door.

The bed creaked as you sat down after placing it on the wooden desk. Ace slumped into the chair, his arms on the rests.

"You don't gotta tell me why you hate your birthday but...make a wish, hm?"

Ace let out a sigh as he shook his head. He could never say no to you. He lit the candle with the tip of his forefinger.

He was stuck on what exactly to wish for but his eyes flickered to you, who was gazing at him expectantly, he felt a surge of warmth in his chest.

After he said his wish in his mind, he blew out the candle. You dipped your index finger in the butterscotch cream, swiping it on the tip of his nose, earning a hearty chuckle from Ace as he threw his head back.

The type of belly ache laugh that makes the muscles in your cheeks hurt. He never thought he could even have a genuine smile today.

He mischievously swiped some of the cream onto your lips and nudged his forehead against yours.

"May I?"

You drew a sharp intake of breath, blood roaring in your ears as his dark eyes glinted with the lantern behind you.

"...Yes." You whispered, and Ace immediately cupped your cheek and slotted his lips against yours. You were still sitting on the bed, his hand pressing firmly against the mattress as he leaned down to kiss you.

The kiss was sweet from the taste of the cream to the tender-like movements of Ace's lips against yours.

When he lapped up the flavor from your lips, he slid his tongue against yours earning a soft whimper from you as heat pooled deep in your gut.

"ACE!" You squeaked out.

Against the pillows, your heart thumped in anticipation. He stood as he unbuckled his belt and let his shorts drop to his ankles.

It was a lewd sight you suppose, and it'd probably get crazier as this went on.

He was on all fours, crawling towards you which was a little funny to see, then he slotted himself between your legs and began to glide his tongue along the skin of the juncture between your shoulders and neck.

You let out a gasp at the sensation of his large hands squeezing your breast.

"Already..?" He whispered in your ear, his thumb flicking the hardened nipple.

Ace by no means was a lothario, and his own sexual experiences had come from the early days when he first ventured out into the sea.

The older women always told him how much of a pretty boy he was and how his freckles were to die for.

At the time he felt his chest swell with pride, especially when his older crew mates propped him up. Saying how much of a real man he was now.

But late at night he often thought back and he felt disgusted with himself. He hated it. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why he felt that way but he couldn't stand it.

So he steered away from intimacy. He could flirt his way out of trouble but when things ever began to heat up when he was on his expeditions around, he knew when to cut and run.

Somehow, as he was about to engage in something so heated with you he oddly felt comforted. As if this was meant to happen.

"Ace..." You murmured as his lips began to suck and lick the flesh of your stomach.

"What is it princess, do you want me to stop..?" He asked gently, dark eyes flickering to yours full of warmth and tenderness.

"No...I want this.." You mumbled, the tips of your ears red as you felt exposed in front of Ace. "But if it's your special day, I should be the one treating you."

A very predatory almost primal-looking glint gleamed in Ace's eyes.

"Baby...do you trust me?" Ace questioned.

You nodded. He made you stand up as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Ace already naked, began to peel off the remainder of your night clothes until you were fully nude in front of him.

He slowly began to lave kisses and sucked on your nipples, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You whimpered his name, goosebumps trailing all over your body as your pussy began to almost sob at the attention. Ace swiped his middle and forefinger between your folds, practically in awe at your wetness.

He looked up to meet your eyes once more, his own swirling with lust.

"All this for me, baby?"

Unsure of what to say, you simply nodded.

"You're mighty sweet, aren't ya?" He chuckled darkly, his thumb beginning to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves, damn near about to buckle.

"You're treatin' me enough by letting me play with that pretty pussy on my special day...but if you insist. Come on. Sit on my face and suck my cock, mhm?"

The crudeness and vulgarity leaving Ace's mouth was shocking you. You've heard a dirty joke from Ace once or twice but this was another level.

Regardless, you'd be lying if you didn't say the filth from his mouth wasn't spurring you on.

As he laid back on his bed, helping you shift into the position to ride his face as you sucked him off.

You gasped when you felt Ace's fingers dig into the flesh of your plush thighs with the added sensation of him burying his face between your dripping core.

He kissed and bit the delicate flesh of your inner thighs before he completely plunged his tongue into your cunt to run it along the wet folds.

You immediately whined. He'd just begun but he was so good at it, you felt a shudder down your spine.

Your nails sunk into his toned thighs as you carefully eyed his hardened cock, the tip already oozing white pearls of pre cum and angrily red.

"It looks like it hurts." You thought to yourself but were immediately dragged out of your thoughts as Ace parted your folds with his fingers, making you squeak.

"What happened to wanting to treat me, huh?" He chuckled, words vibrating against your pussy causing you to jolt.

You never even thought of the idea of wanting somebody's dick in your mouth. Yet Ace's looked so enticing.

Slightly tan with a vein running along the underside. He seemed like such a wild person who didn't care about 'maintenance' yet his pubes seemed to be well trimmed.

It was slightly hard to concentrate on what you needed to do, what with Ace slurping and suckling your pussy obnoxiously. He was making you lightheaded and a moaning mess in his grip.

The pad of your thumb brushed against the slit of his tip, smearing the cum around. He hissed and bucked his hips slightly since he was carried away with the relentless assault of his tongue on your core.

"You goddamn minx..." He muttered with a hazy smile.

Your hand wrapped around his length and began to stroke him tauntingly slow, giving kitten licks on his aching tip. He let out a groan, his raven locks plastering onto the sweat on his forehead.

Soon enough, you slowly but surely took Ace's cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him as the mixture of saliva and precum coated his dick.

You and Ace were cut from the same cloth you suppose. Both of the oral you were giving each other was sloppy and messy, and you both were struggling to keep your sanity amidst the pleasure.

The Second Division captain's cabin was a cacophony of sinful and desperate moans bouncing off the mahogany panelings and skin slapping.

"Fuck...princess.." Ace gasped out, his breath tickling your sticky and puffy folds. "Don't think I can...handle this much longer. Let's cum together, mhm..?"

You nodded, throat a little raw at Ace accidentally hitting the back of your throat with his tip with the over-enthusiasm of you bobbing your head when you increased your pace.

Soon enough, you simultaneously hit your orgasms, Ace's hot seed oozing in your mouth and your juices squirting on his tongue, he eagerly lapped up the essence causing you to jerk away in hysterics.

"You are so damn...greedy!" You heaved out, breaths shallow after you swallowed and rubbed your throat.

"Can't help myself, princess." Ace remarked with a weary smile as he sat up then crawled over to rest on your chest. "You make me insatiable."

You ruffled his jet-black tresses and kissed his temple as he wrapped his arms around your waist, face nestled into you.

"Hope you enjoyed, birthday boy." You smiled.

"Aw...so you sitting on my face is reserved for birthdays only? Suddenly I wish every day was my birthday." He chuckled, causing you to thump his arm.

The next morning, despite the elaborate plan to leave before dawn before anybody saw you leave Ace's cabin you were caught.

"Here." Thatch said sliding a mug of tea over to you. "Marco says peppermint is good for a sore throat."

That was the last thing Thatch remembered before he was scalded with some of the boiling water sloshed on his hand, the rest of the crew in hysterics.

author’s note: if you read this far tysm! reblogs & interactions always appreciated. its like 4am n i wrote this w my pussy n depression so sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes

#one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece smut #portgas d ace smut #portgas d. ace #fire fist ace #ace x reader #one piece ace #ace smut #ace fluff #one piece fanfic #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x female reader #one piece angst #⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles

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penguinsfly · 2 months

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I unfortunately saw something I didn't want to see and that was my last straw. I'm fucking doing this.

Let's establish this first. Alastor is stated in the show to be asexual that is not up to discussion. He is also very heavily implied in the same conversation to be aromatic. 'An Ace in the hole' being used in context of him being with Charlie is also implying his aromanticism.

VIDEO

If that's not enough then here is Viv speaking about his romantic orientation. It's pretty clear despite the fact that afterwards she said it's okay to headcanon whatever (it's not but I will get o that later) that he is written purely as an aro ace character.

On top of that going by Alastor's interaction with Angel from the pilot and the first episode it is clear that he is sex repulsed. Not only that but on the fandom website he is stated to be touch averse with two sources which you can check out on the website.

Hazbin hotel wiki, Alastor page

Now we established that Alastor is canonically Asexual, Aromantic, Sex Repulsed and Touch Averse

As I also am all of the above I'll try to explain everything to the best of my ability as simply as I can.

Aromanticism and Asexuality.

I'm probably targeting the audience that knows those terms but regardless I will explain it anyway.

Aromantic - people that experience little to no romantic attraction towards any gender

Asexual - people that experience little to no sexual attraction towards any gender.

Little to no

Asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums in which people can feel certain attractions towards people but those attractions are less occurring or are defined by personal connection.

Diagram from AVEN website

However some people are at the end of the spectrum, they never felt attraction and that's valid. Alastor was stated to be aroace he wasn't written as demi or as gray he was written as aroace as in the end of the spectrum. His repulsion and not giving shit about romance or sex speaks for itself.

Representation

I do understand that everyone wants to be represented but it's so important to understand that aroace people are one of the most underrepresented queer groups in the media.

And I'm not here to scream about how I want my fav character to be just like me I don't care for it I'm way too confident in my orientation to rely on that however I'm tired of explaining to people what asexuality and aromanticism is just to receive 'are you sure' or 'you'll change your mind' or 'its not real' or the community favourite 'you'll find the right person' no I won't I'm not looking thank you very much (I just smile and nod to be polite and I'm sick of it).

'Harmless' buts like: 'He might be on the spectrum', 'AroAce people can still feel attraction' hurt the final outcome for all the people on the spectrum not only strictly aroaces because it allows people to write one shots with 'Demi Alastor' that falls in love in 2000 words because he is 'demi' (spoiler alert: they don't understand what that label means). It's just a cover, an opening, sneaky way to disregard his orientation, feel good about themselves and move on. Newsflash there is no moving on for aroace people it's our life.

Shipping

Shipping is just harmless fun right? Usually yes but not in this case. In the same way its not okay to ship gay characters with genders they are not attracted to.

It's erasure and since there is much less people identifying on aro/ace spectrums then there is gay or bi people our voices are being silenced. Not to mention that gay people received support from entire LGBTQIA+ community over the years in contrast to aro/ace specs who to this day are told that we are 'not queer enough' or 'not oppressed enough' often by other queer people.

And finally... FINALLY we get cannon Aro/Ace character that is clearly not interested in romance and sex. Character that beats stereotypes of boring and timid aro/ace people and what's the first people do? They ship him. Alastor's storyline provides so many points to be explored like 'what is his backstory', ' what's about his deal', ' how does he fit in in the found family trope' , 'does he care about hotel guests' yet people choose to write about the only thing that he is not interested in. As a heavily repulsed person that used to be horrified about the fact that I'll have to fall in love with somebody at some point before I found out what aro/ace is I find it repulsive and trust me he would too.

But Viv said it's okay!

Its the same point once again. What if Viv said that it's okay to ship gay Angel with woman. She doesn't have authority to say shit like that.

Queerplatonic relationships

I can't tell you not to do it I don't think he would be necessary interested in it but for fuck sake do your research and try to understand what queerplatonic means before you use it as a cover to shamelessly ship him. Respect the fact that he is sex repulsed and touch averse and you're fine.

Why can't you just avoid it?

First of all I shouldn't have to. Alastor's orientation should be respected in the fandom like any other orientation is. Second of all I've tried. I tried to only look up AroAce Alastor tag I've blocked over 80 people on tumblr alone (I just counted) to avoid to see anything that could trigger me and I'm not talking about slightly shippy posts or fanarts I'm talking about full blown disregard towards his orientation. Guess what it didn't work!

Archive of our own where do I start. I've used this website for over a decade and I could probably count days I didn't go there on my fingers. I'm fluent in AO3 I know which tags I should block. I know how to skim thorough the summary and tags to see if I'm interested. I've seen shit I'm a shipper I've been on ao3 for ten years but never had to mentally prepare myself to face queerphobia as I click on the tab.

Just use aro/ace Alastor tag.

I do and let me tell you people can't tag for shit or they just pretend to be clueless at this point. Besides see this?

there is more ff with Alastor/reader (disgusting) than there is Alastor with his canon orientation and to play the devils advocate for arophobic people there is more Angel/Alastor then his stated in the show sexuality. I understand that fandom goes back before the show was aired but Viv confirmed his orientation back then too.

Summary

I could go on and on bout different issues and maybe I will in the future but I'm not wasting anymore of this weekend on it. I'm ready to answer any questions as long as they are respectful.

I'm aware that he is a fictional character, it doesn't affect him in any way whatsoever but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind.

If there are any mistakes grammar related I'm not sorry I'm fluent in English (not my first language) but I took 3h nap in between and I'm sleep deprived.

Have a nice day.

#alastor #aroace alastor #hazbin hotel #aromantic #asexual #aromantic alastor #asexual alastor

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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ THREE OF HEARTS | könig x ghost x reader

✩ PART ONE / ACE OF SPADES

// read on ao3. fic playlist. series masterlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You can still taste the smoke on your lips.

The flavour of tobacco against your tongue, the spiralling smoke brushing your cheek. A hand in your hair, another between your thighs. One strong chest pressed against your own, the other laid onto the sheets between your legs.

A name spoken against your ear, another whisper muffled by your thighs.

Torture, in its rawest of forms – malicious and cruel and perfect. An agonising taunt of what could be, if not for regulations, rules; decorum and practicality. Right and wrong.

It had been two years since you’d seen the men that starred in your darkest of fantasies. Or, more precisely, six-hundred and thirty-eight days since you’d tasted them, breathed in the strong scent of their cologne.

But you weren’t counting.

You wouldn’t dare.

…Still.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, you’d spent, longing and hoping and dreaming of another moment. A possibility to be embraced, once more, by them. Even just a minute of their time, to speak, to ask if they felt the same instant connection you had.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days of waiting for this very moment.

“Sergeant, I’m sure you’re at least aware of Colonel König and Lieutenant Ghost,” your Commander speaks, elbows resting on his desk, hands folded underneath his chin as he studies you.

Your mouth is barren of moisture, all of it draining straight to where your clasped hands grow clammy in your lap. Without a word, you nod. Your Commander doesn’t comment, but his eyes narrow, and he releases a short exhale.

The room feels so small, now, his office like your own personal prison cell. Walls a fading beige, the seat beneath you a cracking leather – the stench of old paperwork. It’s a challenge not to cough from the dust.

“And I know that you’re well aware of your upcoming mission. Tomorrow, correct?” He asks, flipping through the stapled stack of paper before him, tongue peaking out to lick over his thumb as he skims over the fineprint.

You nod once more, eyes nervously darting around the enclosed space. No windows? Seriously?

“You’re a smart woman,” he observes, with a small shrug of his shoulders, eyeing you curiously. “I think you know what I’m implying.”

The contracted mission, which had once been an infiltration, targeted approach, has turned into a long-term undercover one overnight. In fact, you hadn’t been informed of the drastic change until ten minutes ago.

Neither had you been informed of the two soldiers you’d be working with.

You didn’t know if you’d ever regretted something this deeply.

Ever.

“I don’t even know the details, let alone my cover,” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your civvies tank, “Isn’t this CIA shit, anyways? Why are we –”

“You know damn well why we need you three on this, and not just any agent,” Your Commander raises an unimpressed brow, and you slump further into your chair. He’s right, of course, but it doesn’t mean that it makes you feel any better.

The layers within this mission were nearly impossible to decipher.

A foreign terrorist – one growing a steady following within political groups and extremists – was pulling the strings of one of the most exclusive and profitable trafficking rings in the world. And he was doing it right underneath the public’s noses.

What the cover was hadn’t been known – until this morning.

“Read it yourself,” your Commander breathes exasperatedly, and with that tone, you know it’s not going to be pretty.

Tossing the paper over to your side of the desk, it skids to a soft stop right at the edge.

Flitting your gaze to the front page, your stomach sinks.

There, in printed, full colour – is them. They look unbelievably imposing, with their uniforms, and their masked faces.

You knew what was hidden beneath that black fabric.

The images aren’t the only thing to catch your abrupt attention, however, your focus instantly snatching on the cover stories. The…

Oh. Fuck.

“Commander –”

He instantly raises a palm, and you bite your tongue, hesitantly reading the text from start to end. It doesn’t make the situation any better; somehow, it makes it worse – tenfold.

You speak before you can stop yourself.

“BDSM?”

If all the blood has drained from your face, you’d be lucky to die on the spot. Because, truly, you can’t think of a better option. A bullet to the head, maybe? Arsenic in the water sat next to the contract?

Yeah. Anything is better than whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing tomorrow.

And for the indefinite future.

“I know that it’s impractical,” he tries to amend, obviously seeing the pure distraught written all over your features, “But it’s our safest bet. There’s thousands – millions of lives on the line here. And I’m sure you’re not alone in your… hesitation, either.”

Chewing at your inner cheek, you nervously skim over the rest of the information, before skidding it back over to your Commander, running a hand down your face.

“I have to pretend,” you inhale, deep, “To be in a kinky throuple.”

With the men who you’d done ‘kinky throuple’ shit with, went unsaid.

The man across from you winces. But he doesn’t deny it.

“That’s…” He seems to search for words, but comes out empty. He clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s… That’s pretty much. The cover story.”

He sounds highly uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but with sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and your mind reeling, you can’t find it in yourself to have any empathy. At least he didn’t have to infiltrate a fucking sex club.

Flashes of bare skin, scarred jaws, calloused hands –

“When’s the briefing?”

The words fall from your lips in a breath, your subconscious need for information being set to default while the rest of your brain tries to play catch-up.

Looking down at the bulky, gluttonously gold watch adorning his wrist, your Commander grimaces, before looking back up to you with an apologetic frown. “It’s in five minutes. This morning’s been a rush, sorry, kid.”

Rising from your seat on unsteady legs, you accept your own copy of the papers with shaky hands. If your Commander notices the trembling, he doesn’t comment on it.

They feel heavier than any weight, the words in your hands – the words bearing down on your soul.

Attempting to make sense of it all is a fruitless effort, and trying to reason with it is just as impossible. How could you? When this undercover mission was likely going to be the most difficult one of your life? Was this the universe’s form of a taunt, a punishment?

Your Commander opens the door for you, the soft draft of the hallway allowing you to breathe.

The stifled, stale air of his office gives way, and your shoulders loosen slightly from the tight posture they were in. Maybe everything will be fine. You won’t be in a fake relationship with the men who you had a relationship with, however short-lived, to stop a world-class terrorist.

…Totally.

Following your Commander tightly behind him, your mind a hurricane of emotions and anxiety, you chew at the inside of your cheek as you rack your thoughts for any sense of direction.

You, inevitably, come up empty.

Boots hitting the linoleum floor swiftly, the sound echoing around the empty space, you release short, calming breaths. Realistically speaking, this wasn’t going to be the cause of your death – you were a professional. You were one of the most skilled coveted ops agents for-hire, and what was this but just another aspect of your job?

Maybe this was exactly what you’d been hoping for – a real, substantial opportunity.

Maybe they’ve both forgotten you.

Your breath hitches at that thought.

It takes root in your mind instantly. What’s making you believe that they care, in the slightest, for you? What makes you think that one night of lustful desires could hold a flame to a proper relationship?

What if you were just that – one night? Nothing more of importance, or worth, to them?

“C’mon, kid,” Your Commander claps a comforting hand onto your shoulder, near dragging you into the briefing room.

You’re just grateful that he takes your hesitation as an uneasiness about the cover story, and not the men you’ll have to execute it with. …Although, the cover story isn’t exactly a breeze, either, König and Ghost aside.

The air-conditioned meeting room feels like ice against your heated skin, the door closing behind both you and your Commander as he goes to take a seat at the head of the table, beside a woman of whom you haven’t seen before. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, a classic button-up adorning her torso as she flips through the files in front of her.

When she looks up, she greets your Commander with a short nod, before giving one to you, too.

Other than her, the room is empty – and checking the decade-old clock on the wall, it seems like there’s only a minute until the official starting time.

Choosing the safest bet, a chair to the left of the elongated, wooden table, you sit in the middle. It feels like the best choice – not too close to the Commanders or any Chiefs.

You aren’t new to the concept of briefings; in fact, you’d likely been involved in more than any of the Sergeants you knew.

Being an expert in the field of undercover and intelligence-based operations means that you attended more meetings than, say, an explosives expert. You have to know the smallest details; discuss them and pick them apart, add your own two cents.

Intelligence is something you pride yourself on – you break most stereotypes about the military, all in one go, and you aren’t ashamed of that. Book smart, progressive; a woman.

It never fails to make you smile internally, the second-glances from the withering old men that held authority within your ranks. While you deal with the drawbacks every second you work, there are some benefits, you suppose.

The cushioned meeting chair is comfortable where you’re seated, hands folded dutifully in your lap as you await everyone else’s arrival.

Their arrival.

Door creaking open, your heart skips a beat in your chest as you instantly dart your gaze up.

You most definitely do not deflate when you see one of your Lieutenants walk in, instead of a specific one from the Task Force. …Or a six-foot-ten Colonel.

The logistics of this mission must’ve been insane to sort out. While KorTac and SpecGru are formally enemies, and actively enemies, too, there are under-the-table deals and trades made between the two behind closed doors.

This must be a prime example of such a decision.

König and Ghost – from those few hours you’d spent with them – had been amicable. That was putting it lightly; they definitely shared a few secretive, heated looks, even a kiss and a few strokes, too.

Maybe the whole forbidden thing was even more intense, for them? Being so explicitly enemies?

You weren’t exactly sure – still aren’t.

None of it makes any sense, which is a debilitating feeling, for someone who needs to know everything at all times. As best as you can, anyways.

Taking the spot directly in front of you, your Lieutenant gives you a kind smile. You easily reciprocate, even with your anxiety heightened, your thighs squeezing together underneath the shadows of the table.

The overhead lights are a harsh, grating white, and you feel a pounding headache incoming.

Your Commander and the woman seem to be engaging in a quick, near-silent conversation at the head of the table. They swap some papers around, narrow their gazes, raise brows. They’re… hostile, but not unbearably so – amicable enough not to cause a fight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The world doesn’t stop, time doesn’t freeze, but it’s a close thing with the way your heart stutters in your chest, your breath cutting off with your last inhale.

At the door, fist still raised, deep blue eyes and a sniper hood meet your startled gaze. The man’s eyes soften immediately when they catch onto yours, the greasepaint smeared around them doing nothing to hide the instant spark that lights within them.

He is, you distantly think, as breathtaking as you remembered him to be.

The top of his head is hidden behind the door frame, his height palpable even within the excessively tall roof of the building. His posture allows him to curl into himself, even with his fist still raised.

“We late?”

And –

Oh.

König’s unbelievably large frame had taken the spotlight – but that wasn’t to say that the other man was any dimmer in your eyes.

Ghost. True to his name, his voice is a rough drawl, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest as his eyes dart around the room, before landing on…

You.

He doesn’t flinch; his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, actually, not even a hint of recognition in his dusky brown eyes. Just cold indifference, this side of disgruntled.

As if you’ve been frozen in time, you struggle to think, let alone breathe – like your life has been suddenly set to manual. With a quick jerk of a movement, you let your eyes zone out onto the mahogany in front of you.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – just in time,” the woman speaks succinctly, folding one leg over the other as she finally looks away from your Commander to gesture the two in.

Oh, what you wouldn’t give for a moment to process. To figure out the battlefield that is your head, and decide on your next actions – your feelings, too, the emotions of it all.

“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other yet!” Your Commander laughs, jovial, and you want to bang your head onto the table.

“...We are professionals.”

That Austrian accent – the thick, headiness of it, the lilt, the gentle tone – it’s one as familiar as your own. One that’s played in your mind, a constant, the memory of it spoken against your heated skin both a blessing and a curse.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, it had been.

“At killing.”

You can hear the side-eye, the bored tone, the guttural raspiness reminiscent of his hometown. The sarcasm, too, a core part of the very man’s existence.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days.

Your Commander is the only person in the room who laughs, clasping his hands together before waving the two over to join at the table. Looking up, for a split second, you nearly deflate when his eyes catch onto yours. The glint in them says everything you need to know.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – let me introduce you to Sergeant Star,” your Commander gestures towards you, and really, would melting into the floor be so bad?

Ghost raises a single brow, and your Lieutenant runs with it.

“Funny story, that,” he starts, and you barely restrain yourself from burying your head in your hands, “First mission. She somehow figures out who was sending the false intel for a case, and dismantled the whole bloody plan, made a new one. She was spot on, too.”

His smile turns shiteating as he leans further back into his chair, folding his hands over his chest.

“When we got back onto base, Commander over there gave her a gold star for her troubles. Pretty good tradeoff, aye?”

“Leo,” you mutter under your breath, delivering your superior a vicious glare.

Your Lieutenant – Leo – was more of an annoying older brother than anything else. Since that mission, he’d taken you under his wing; protected you like his own, too. He was a dickhead, but a solid one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Even when he pulls shit like this.

“That’s…” König folds into himself further, if that’s at all possible, as he looks to Leo. “Impressive. Very good.”

Ghost doesn’t say a word, instead, moving to sit in the chair next to your Lieutenant, and opposite you. König quickly follows his lead, sitting to your left with rough movements. A man of his size – to be graceful with anything was something of a miracle.

He’d been graceful when his hand had wrapped around your neck –

“Now that everyone’s here,” the woman cuts in, moving to stand and turn on the TV sat between her and your Commander, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The show is multiple images of the targets, some of the women that have been kidnapped, reports, and other important information. You catalogue it all, playing close attention to the names and circumstances of both the victims and the targets.

It’s going smoothly, until –

“The rules,” the woman whose name you’ve learnt is Laswell speaks, flicking to the next slide. Your stomach drops for a reason other than the two men sat at the table when you read its contents.

Rule One: Explicit consent must be given between pre-established partners, or any new partners if a scene is wished to be done.

Rule Two: Masks must be worn at all times, with safe alternatives if oral play is wish to be done.

Rule Three: A person’s inclination [Dominant, Verse, Submissive] must be displayed on a corresponding armband, which will be supplied at entry.

Rule Four: Access to the basement level may not be granted to anyone, unless a verification and acceptance process has been executed. No exclusions apply.

Rule Five: Submissives with a Dominant(s) must stay within eyesight at all times, unless a collar has been placed onto the Submissive marking ownership.

It feels as though someone’s scrambled the contents of your brain in an attempt to destroy your very essence – and your stomach feels as hollow as your heart as Laswell reads off the words on screen. She doesn’t falter once, unlike you, knuckles whitening against the tight fists forming in your lap.

König, nor Ghost, react outwardly. No hint of hesitance or uneasiness, just taking their professionalism in stride.

You feel like a fool.

“Ghost will be acting as the Dominant, König the Verse, and Star the Submissive,” Laswell states, matter-of-fact, as if your world didn’t start crumbling around you the moment you’d been called into your Commander’s office.

If you were at all in a state to laugh, you’d probably giggle at how suitable the roles are. They all aligned to That Night, and a distant part of you wonders if the three of you were just obvious with your tastes.

“We’ve rented an apartment four blocks away. When you start to inquire about the basement,” she flicks to the next slide once more, “They will follow you. Expect to have a shadow everywhere you go – and one that you don’t know is there, obvious or not.”

“You guys aren’t good people, as of tomorrow,” Your Commander chimes in, leaning forward on the table, looking between both König and Ghost. “You are interested in their side business, and Star,” he looks to you, “Is none the wiser. This only works if you follow through with that – and offer up her services as collateral.”

“You want us to pretend,” König shakes his head, looking dismayed, “To give the Sergeant to the ring?”

Silence.

And, then, “Yes.”

You were made aware, earlier, of course, that your role was going to be slightly different to that of the other two men. But you hadn’t actually expected something so… fucked.

“If this goes sideways –” Ghost speaks up, voice deep and raspy as his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, visible even with his mask, “ –We’re risking ‘er life.”

“I know what I signed up for,” you respond, finding your voice, however weak. “This is no different to a warzone. Just with less explosions, and more…” You struggle to find the words, “Mind games. Tactics are changing from bullets to rumours.”

He doesn’t try to debate it, just merely shrugs indifferently and slides his smooth gaze back over to the two at the front.

As if he hadn’t felt you cum around his cock; heard you moan his name while he left bites over your neck.

Bastard.

The meeting goes on much the same, with more information on the plan as a whole. It makes sense, to you, and you know that you’ll be able to get it done.

König and Ghost, however, that haunting spectre that was them, feel like a road block.

Ghost, from what you had gathered, was either ignoring your existence for some selfish reason, or had completely forgotten about That Night.

You simultaneously find it hard to believe that your time together was that forgettable, and that it was truly something special. It has, after all, been six-hundred and thirty-eight days. Maybe he was used to such intimacy, although you find it hard to believe, it is a possibility.

Then, there’s König – his eyes, the way he almost reeled back at the sight of you, told you enough.

He remembered. Clear as day.

But whether or not he cares at all, or wants to discuss your past at all, is a whole other story. Maybe he just wants to brush it under the rug, forget it ever happened, and move on.

As much as one could move on when pretending to be in a relationship, that is.

“You will head to your apartment by eighteen-hundred, tomorrow night, and get yourselves situated. The club opens at nineteen-hundred, so an hour or so after that is reasonable,” Laswell says, finishing off on the debrief.

Her eyes find all of you.

“There’s a lot riding on this. This isn’t like any mission any of you have executed before – but we have faith that you will execute this with precision and care.”

The words sit in your soul like a reminder; a way of steering you the right direction.

A few words are exchanged after that, some questions, some answers. Leo will be serving as your operator, in charge of communications and resources for the mission. At the back of your mind, you’re grateful for the distant support of your Lieutenant.

It’s when everything’s wrapped up, and you’re falling back as everyone files out of the room, that a presence behind you has you freezing up.

Ghost.

“If you’re not up for the mission, just say so instead of draggin’ us down,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear the grain of his low, impatient voice. “This is important, Sergeant, and if your head is elsewhere –”

“You don’t remember?” Your voice comes out tight, impatient, upset.

His shoulder checks yours as he passes.

“What’s there to remember?”

taglist. @thegreyjoyed @hayleybarnesx

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millienia · 2 months

Text

the c in NRC stands for cat

synopsis: in which heartslabyul deals with a cat loving no-magic having ramshackle prefect. (headcanons) gn!yuu

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when he saw you clinging to the raccoon-cat-thing at the entrance ceremony, he did not know how to react.

normal people would panic. normal people would avoid a fire-breathing monster-cat-whatever that was spewing absolute nonsense.

apparently not you, though. although, one could say you already aren’t normal, considering the lack of magic. it wasn’t just not that much potential, you were basically in the negatives.

anyways, cats.

he got a peek under your ceremonial robes, and you were wearing..

a pajama shirt with a cat print on it. it looked horrendous.

riddle himself grew up with.. well, a cat. beastperson. so he probably would only have a surface level of appreciation for their greatness.

6/10 for cat lovers, i guess. he wouldn’t really mind, but he’d think it a tad strange. lower points because it took him a while to finally start letting grim into areas of festivity.

TREY CLOVER

this guy has siblings. like, siblings siblings. he’s used to being around people with strange interests (his brother tried to feed him a live insect once. not fun).

so, i’m sure he appreciates that your interests are on the much safer side of the wide, wide spectrum.

except when the two of you hang out while he’s baking and suddenly ace and deuce are complaining about cat hair in their tarts.

please do not bring your cats in the kitchen, thank you very much.

he’d feed your cat(s)! very sweet guy.

8/10 for cat lovers! good ascend from riddles, except two points taken from him because one, the Cat™ isn’t allowed in the kitchen and two, he just seems like a dog person to me.

CATER DIAMOND

please do not turn the great grim into a marketable plushie.

cater.

just kidding, he wouldn’t do that.

or would he?

i think he’d be a good cat co-parent! just like trey, i think he’d feed your cat when you can’t, he’d catsit while you’re in class.. etc, etc.

mostly because the posts he makes of your cat blow up, but also because he likes your cat!

the level fluctuates depending if this cat is grim or not. please do not ask me why.

8/10 for cat lovers! not bad, not bad at all! except, now there’s merch of grim- and while he’s proud of himself (this is only to be expected for the great grim! according to him), you just wish you got some of the revenue.

ACE TRAPPOLA

no.

just, no.

i think he’d look at a cat litter and go, “what’s that?”. maybe he’d even try to sniff it.

gives off grew up with a dog vibes, i don’t know why.

he goes like “EUGH” when he finds cat hair in the food you made for him.

you felt kinda bad, but he ate it anyways while complaining. you were pretty conflicted.

he’d be.. i don’t know. unremarkable. not that good, though.

5/10 for the cat lovers. no comment. this gremlin, i swear.

DEUCE SPADE

he LITERALLY isn’t any better than ace.

maybe he used to feed some of the stray cats on the way home from school when he was in elementary, but that’s probably the extent of his experience.

will also complain about cat hair. politely.

“uhm.. i think grims hair is in my soup?” kind of polite. except he’s grimacing and staring at grim like the cat just insulted his mother and all his ancestors.

he will also sniff your cat litter. and grim will laugh in the heartslabyul first year duo’s faces.

thanks, grim.

5/10 for the cat lovers.. again. he’s really just the same. he’d probably be nicer than ace, but the latter just has more experience with pets. probably. hopefully.

special guest, IDIA SHROUD!

do i even need to say anything?

you two have matching cat print pajamas. ortho would cry tears of joy if he could.

you bring your cats to ignihyde and you all hang out. <3

you, idia, and your 23 cats. it really is the life.

he paid you in genesis crystals for permission to pat one of your cats on the head.

you two have a cat lovers gc where you just send cat pictures and talk about your cats, very fun.

10/10 for cat lovers! first ever 10/10, and it’s from idia shroud? riddle is seething. great cat parent! though, he’s a bit attached. it’s okay, though, he buys your cats toys.

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demonpiratehuntress · 4 months

Note

Y/n is a nice young woman and head over heels in love with her boyfriend Ace. Of course he too. But there is this girl on the ship, cute, lovely, accommodating and everything that makes a "cute girl". Everyone likes her and Y/n likes her too, until she starts getting closer to Ace. Like, unexpectedly hugging him from behind, clinging to his arm, giving him a slap on the bottom, jumping up to him like she hadn't seen him in forever. She's really attached to him and even after you very politely expressed that you didn't like it and neither did Ace. But after a short while she continues, whether in front of you or the crew. And at some point Y/n's patience breaks and she literally drags her away from him by her hair. No one ever expected that she could be so aggressive, insulting the girl with the most disgusting words y/n could think of. How does Ace react to this?[I'm soo sorry, it's so long😶‍🌫️ Hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable😵‍💫]

No worries! I actually really like this idea, so I hope you like this answer!

back off

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - the ask above, you don't like the new recruit when she gets too close to your boyfriend

warnings - swearing, violence from you at the end

Ace was too nice. You knew that, he knew that, everyone knew that. He was way too nice and you always told him one day that would get him into trouble. You just didn't know that 'one day' would come so soon.

She was nice at first. Sweet, friendly, helpful. You liked having another woman around, because it gave you a break from the rowdiness of the men. She was great to talk to, and for a while was a good listener and a confidant you trusted. You had no idea where Marco had found her, but she'd apparently wanted to become a pirate so he brought her and Whitebeard allowed her to join, thinking it would be good for you. And it was.

For a while.

You started noticing her shift in behaviour when the crew stopped by an island to take a break and just relax, and you'd suggested hitting the beach with her.

"Will Ace be coming?" She asked, trying to mask the excitement in her voice but clearly failing.

You raised an eyebrow, "He's my boyfriend, so probably. He's clingy."

"That's so cute!"

You smiled, ignoring her wistful expression, "It is. He is."

Ace did join you not long after, surprising you by running up to you from behind and lifting you off your feet. You squealed in surprise and laughed, before your eyes widened when you saw the water getting closer and closer.

"Babe, no!"

"Yes," he answered happily, and you just knew he was grinning like the little devil he was.

Then you felt nothing but cold water, and when you resurfaced you gasped for air before shooting the cackling commander a death glare.

"Ace!"

"Sorry, babe, I had to!"

You laughed and shook your head, before witnessing one of the most uncomfortable and infuriating sights you'd ever seen. (Other Name) ran up to your boyfriend, jumped onto his back and locked her legs around his waist. She giggled innocently like that was a totally normal thing to do, telling him that friends gave each other piggyback rides sometimes.

You weren't so sure she saw him as a friend, but you grit your teeth and sucked it up anyway, not wanting to ruin the mood. Ace was confused, and also uncomfortable because he didn't really like anyone but you doing that to him, but he also said nothing. But for him, it was just because he was too sweet to speak out.

At dinner it was even worse.

She shoved herself between you and Ace, running her hand along his arm as she smiled and rambled on about something you weren't listening to.

"(Other Name)," you tried to stay calm, forcing a smile, "Ace and I were talking. Could you please move?"

"Oh, sorry!" She smiled at you, but didn't seem very sorry. Then she had the nerve to get up, move around your boyfriend, and force herself between Marco and Ace.

You grit your teeth again, but said nothing. Everyone was having fun. No need to ruin it with your anger, right? Besides, she knew he was yours, right? He knew that too. You trusted him.

You just didn't trust her...

Afterwards, Ace noticed your sour mood as you both walked to your shared room. He slid his hand into yours and squeezed it, looking at you worriedly.

"You okay babe?"

"I'm fine," you glared ahead. "Nothing's wrong."

He frowned, "But-"

You whirled on him when you were both in the room, "Why aren't you stopping her? I know you're nice, Ace, but there are limits."

His eyes widened, "Babe-"

"No, you're not even trying to tell her to stop! You always look uncomfortable, but you won't ever tell her to go away and stop it! Do you really have that little respect for our relationship?!" As soon as you said it, you regretted it. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I know," he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you, "I'm sorry. I know I'm too nice to say no. I promise I'll work on it." He kissed the top of your head. "I know she's bothering you, and she's bothering me too. So tomorrow, I'll tell her to stop, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, smiling softly and burying your face in his neck.

The next morning, he did actually speak to her about it. He told her that she was making you both uncomfortable and that she needed to stop because he was already taken.

Her response?

She waited a few days, only to ramp up her inappropriate and infuriating behaviour.

"Hi Ace!" She greeted him at lunch one day with a smack to his rear.

That's when the atmosphere changed. The crew became nervous, knowing just how you might react to that. You had stopped walking, your eyes narrowing at the brave - and apparently stupid - girl, fury like no other building up inside. You were about to blow.

What the crew expected to happen, was far from what actually happened.

You stormed over to her and grabbed her by her hair, yanking hard to get her away from a stunned Ace. No one moved as you dragged her by her hair to the side of the ship.

"Do you know what 'no' means, you hairbrained little bitch?" You snarled, shoving her against the railing. You pulled her hair a little harder, and she yelped in pain. "Do you know what 'stay away from my boyfriend' means, or do I have to fucking beat it into you?"

The entire crew was silent, some watching in awe, others watching in terror. Ace felt a little bit of both, none of them had ever seen you like this but it was so incredibly hot he didn't want to stop you. It was sweet that you were fighting in his honour, but it was also so so sexy, and his mind was already drifting.

"Look at you, so pathetic and stupid, whining like a little baby," you sneered, unable to stop because all of this had just been building up. "Not so bubbly and sweet now, are you? Maybe this'll teach you to grope other women's boyfriends!" You pulled harder and she whimpered. "Such a whiny little thing. Won't miss you here." Then, casually, you threw her overboard into the ocean.

That's when everyone remembered how to move, and almost all of them rushed over to see (Other Name) flailing around in the water below. You turned and walked away, seething but trying to calm down.

Immediately Ace was on you, gripping your waist and pressing heated kisses to any part of you that his lips could reach. He kissed along your neck, along your shoulders, along your jawline...anything to show just how hot your outburst had been to him.

"That was so, so sexy babe," he was muttering as he kissed you. "You're so unbelievably hot. Can't believe you're all mine. Damn."

You blushed furiously, already over your little outburst. She was forgotten, your mind only on Ace and the kisses he was drowning you in. Then you gasped and laughed when he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, marching you to the bedroom.

#one piece #op #ace x reader #ace x you #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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theostrophywife · 6 months

Text

kiss with a fist | chapter five.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: me and the devil - soap & skin.

author's note: things are picking up. a little bit of angst, a little bit of smut and a whole lot of theo just being theo.

After three consecutive brewing sessions without any incidents or explosions, Theo was fairly confident that you had mastered Angel’s Trumpet. All thanks to his supreme knowledge. His words, not yours.

“Today’s the day,” Luna announced cheerfully as she hooked her arm through your elbow.

The two of you walked through the sun soaked courtyard, weaving through your fellow loitering students. “Let’s hope to Merlin that I don’t blow up the place.”

“You won’t,” Luna said supportively. “Though if you do, you can always blame it on the wrackspurts.”

“Wait up, Lovegood!”

Luna slowed as Mattheo Riddle and Enzo Berkshire flanked your side. Mattheo smirked at you while Enzo waved politely. The former had a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

You wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Smoking isn’t allowed on campus grounds, you know. I should dock points from your house.”

Mattheo raised a brow. “Go ahead, little miss prefect, but then I’d be inclined to let slip that our studious little Ravenclaw has been sneaking into the Slytherin boy’s dormitory at all hours of the night.” You gaped, turning red as you fought the urge to clobber him right then and there. “The walls are very thin, you know. I could hear you and Theo giggling from across the hall.”

“We were just eating gelato!”

Riddle appeared unconvinced. Even Enzo struggled to hide his grin. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? Anyways, I’m not interested in who's eating whose gelato.”

“You’re a menace and a pest.”

“I’ve been called worse, sweetheart.”

“Anyways,” Enzo interjected. “Pansy wanted to know what snacks you prefer for the quidditch game after party, Luna." The Slytherin boy turned towards you and smiled. "You’re invited too, Y/N.”

You raised a brow at your friend. “You’re going to a Slytherin party? Hosted by Pansy Parkinson? Who is apparently concerned about your snack preferences?”

Luna blushed. “I meant to tell you about it, but I figured Theo had already invited you.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Mattheo said with a grin. “Notty boy probably asked her in between spoonfuls of gelato and pillow fights.”

“Is there an actual point to your existence or are you just here to be a pain in my arse?”

“One would argue that irking you is a purpose all on its own.”

“Tell Pans that I’d love a bag of wotsits,” interjected Luna. Berkshire looked relieved to receive an answer.

“Right, then. Mattheo and I will relay the message.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Let’s go, mate. Before Snape gives you another detention.”

Mattheo blew a kiss as Enzo dragged him away, which you returned with a classy display of your middle finger.

“Pans?” you asked incredulously. Luna flashed you an innocent smile before pushing you towards the potions classroom.

“We’ll talk about it later. After you ace Angel’s Trumpet!”

You watched in astonishment as your best friend’s platinum blonde head disappeared into the crowd, happily bobbing up and down. “This isn’t over, Loons!”

Luna giggled and gave you a cheeky wink as she rounded the corner.

“What was that all about?” Theo asked as you slipped into your usual seat.

“What do you know about this newfound friendship between Pansy Parkinson and my best friend?”

“Oh, I’d say it’s much more than a friendship.”

“Luna…and…Pansy. How is that even possible?”

“Well, when a mommy and mommy love each other…” quipped Theo.

You raised a hand, flashing him a glare. “I mean, I know that it’s possible. Just not between those two. They have virtually nothing in common.”

He shrugged. “Opposites attract.”

“But Luna’s so sweet and nice and thoughtful and Pansy’s…” Theo gave you a warning look. Slytherins could insult each other all they wanted, but the serpents had some twisted code of loyalty to one another. “You know what I mean, Theodore. I know she’s your friend, but if she hurts Luna I swear to Godric I’ll shove a Nimbus so far up—”

“I think I get the gist, diavolina. Why is your first instinct always violence? Aren’t you Ravenclaws supposed to approach things with logic?”

“The logical response to anyone hurting my friends is violence.”

Theo’s mouth quirked. “Is it strange that I’m weirdly turned on by that?” You smacked his arm in response, which he yelped rather dramatically at. “Lovegood’s perfectly capable of holding her own, you know. She wouldn’t have caught Pansy’s eye if she wasn’t.”

“Parkinson’s treating her well, then?”

“Oh, more than well. I haven’t seen her this giddy since she abandoned the straight act.” You bit back a smile at that comment. “I mean, imagine having to pretend to be attracted to Malfoy.”

“I heard that, you twat,” Draco said from a few seats over.

Theo blew his friend a kiss. “You were meant to, Dray.”

You almost let out a snort, but you caught it just in time. Theo grinned from ear to ear as you glared at him. He leaned in, nudging you with his elbow.

“That charming little laugh is supposed to be our little secret, amorina.”

You flushed as he winked at you. Fortunately, all conversations ceased as Professor Slughorn entered the room.

“Good afternoon, students. As you know, we will be brewing Angel’s Trumpet Draught today. You will have ninety minutes to complete the assignment. Whoever brews the best draught will receive a special reward.”

Slughorn clapped his hands, sending the room into a frenzy. “Best of luck, then.”

By now, the steps were so ingrained that you hardly had to think about it. You and Theo had poured over Alessandra’s grimoire for countless hours. The instructions and illustrations floated in your mind as you worked quietly. Your movements were sure and confident, executing each step with an odd sense of calm. Usually, you were tense while you brewed, but it was different this time around.

Across the table, you looked up and found Theo hunched over his cauldron. There was an intense expression on his face as he brewed and his fingers moved with expert precision. It was such a stark contrast to his usual easy breezy attitude that it made you smile. Sensing your gaze, Theo turned and pierced you with those watercolor eyes. Finally, it dawned on you what they reminded you of.

Theo’s eyes were like the Black Lake—deep and full of danger, but beautiful in a strange sort of way.

The intrusive thought nearly broke your focus. You didn’t have time to think about what it meant—you didn’t want to think about what it meant. Instead, you fixed your attention to the task at hand.

After stirring clockwise and then counterclockwise, you watched with bated breath as the draught simmered to a shimmery mauve color. The perfumed aroma wafted from the cauldron, catching the attention of those around you. Theo appeared nearly as anxious as you while the draught bubbled softly.

Then, a puff of smoke billowed to signal your success. You had never felt so relieved and proud. All that hard work had paid off.

“I did it,” you said incredulously. “I fucking did it!”

Before you even realized what was happening, you were leaping into Theo’s arms. He chuckled, spinning you in the air with a huge grin.

“I knew you could,” he declared proudly. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words made you flush all the way to the tips of your ears. Since you were little, you thrived off of praise and recognition. Commendation had always been every Ravenclaw's drug, but with Theo it almost felt like an Achilles heel. The weak spot that may very well provide him with the perfect opening to your steel armor.

Suddenly, you were all too aware of how close you were. Theo seemed to realize this too because he set you down gently and scratched the back of his head like the moment baffled him too. Luckily, your classmates were too engrossed in their own cauldrons to notice the outburst.

Theo cleared his throat. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—just got a bit excited—”

“No—it’s fine—perfectly understandable—” you mumbled, straightening your tie to avoid making eye contact.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here then?”

The two of you leapt apart as if electrocuted. Thankfully, Professor Slughorn was perfectly oblivious to the awkward tension. He peered into your cauldron, scrutinizing the color, smell, and texture of the draught. After a few moments, he gave an approving nod.

“We have our winner,” the older man declared. Slughorn took a few drops of the draught and placed it into a vial. He passed it around your classmates. “This, my dears, is how you brew a perfect potion. When prepared properly, Angel’s Trumpet Draught is known to cause vivid hallucinations. A large enough dose can even result in psychosis. It is a poison commonly used by those who practice the dark arts to drive its consumer into madness, heightening their torture to a sadistic degree. Notably, the Dark Lord’s servants were overly fond of using this particular potion paired with the Cruciatus curse.”

Beside you, Theo stiffened as several of your classmates glanced at him and Draco. You frowned, shooting sharp daggers at anyone who dared to meet your gaze. The lingering prejudice after the final battle still hung over Slytherin house like a malevolent fog, but you would’ve thought that your fellow classmates would have enough sense to realize that not everything was black and white. The world existed in shades of gray. Every Ravenclaw knew that. Still, even your fellow housemates regarded Theo with suspicion.

Your fists curled at your sides. “Didn’t Godric Gryffindor invent the potion?”

“Yes, very good Y/N.”

“I’d say it’s safe to assume that he was aware of the potential damage of the potion. Dark wizard or not, everyone is capable of creating weapons of mass destruction. Either that or good old Godric had a pretty wild acid trip planned with the rest of the founders.”

Behind you, Malfoy snorted while Theo bit his lip to keep from smirking.

Professor Slughorn was taken aback for a moment before continuing his spiel. “Whatever his reasons, Godric created a rather potent potion. Our job is to deconstruct Angel’s Trumpet in order to counter its effects. Next class, each of you will turn in a list of ingredients for a possible anti-potion.” He waved his hand, dismissing the class. “Good luck.”

One by one, students started filtering out of the potions lab. You followed after them until Slughorn called you back.

“Miss Y/N, stay. There’s still the matter of your reward to discuss.”

You walked up to his desk, fidgeting with the strap of your satchel. You were fairly certain that he was about to give you a dressing down for your snarky comment. Instead, Slughorn offered you a kind smile and a scroll of parchment.

“A letter of recommendation,” the Professor explained. “While I am aware that you have already secured a spot at Oxford, I hope that this will help in your pursuits of being recruited by the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It was widely known that Slughorn was a longstanding member of the society. Not only that, but he held sway in which applicants were eventually accepted as well. A letter of recommendation from him was basically a guarantee.

“Thank you, Professor. Since first year, it’s been my dream to join the society.”

“You’re well on your way, Y/N,” he said with an encouraging nod. “I must say, that brew of Angel’s Trumpet was even better than some of my fellow colleagues. You are an exceptionally talented witch and I am very much interested in cultivating talent like yours, which is why I’d like to extend a dinner invitation to you.”

A letter of recommendation and an invitation to an infamous slug club dinner? Seventh year was definitely your year. But still, something niggled at your brain.

“Thank you, professor. I truly appreciate it, but I have to be honest. I didn’t brew that potion on my own. I had a great deal of help from Theodore. He was the one who taught me how to brew it properly. If anyone deserves the credit, it’s him.”

Even as the words were coming out of your mouth, you couldn’t believe you were actually saying them. It went against every instinct as a Ravenclaw to not use this opportunity to get a leg up in your academics, but it wouldn’t have been right. It wouldn’t have been fair.

Slughorn was quiet for a moment. “Ah yes, I have noticed that Theodore is especially talented in potions. As was his father before him.” He gave you a pointed look before continuing, “Be that as it may, I couldn’t very well extend an invitation to Mr. Nott. His father is a convicted Death Eater facing a life sentence in Azkaban.”

“I know,” you proceeded cautiously. “But Theo has been cleared by the ministry. He had nothing to do with his father’s service to the Dark Lord and has never once expressed loyalty to Voldemort or spread his pureblood propaganda.”

“Don’t get me wrong, dear. I am not accusing Theodore of any wrongdoing. Mr. Nott is an exceptional quidditch player and one of the brightest young wizards of your year, but I’m afraid the optics aren’t in his favor.”

The optics aren’t in his favor. As if public opinion and appearances were all Theo amounted to.

You dug your fingers into your palms, embedding crescent shapes within your skin. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

You were so angry that you wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down to find yourself bleeding. You needed to get out of there. To leave before you said something irrational.

“Thank you again, professor. I should get going for my next class.”

“Of course, dear. Do let me know about dinner.”

You gave him a curt nod before departing. The dungeons passed by in a blur as you stomped your way through the crowded halls. Many of your friends called out to you, but you didn’t bother acknowledging any of them. You were too furious to even have a conversation right now.

You didn’t go to class. Instead, you found yourself on the fourth floor of Ravenclaw Tower. The music room—your place of refuge.

Particles of dust floated like snow through the air as you pulled back the piano cover. Your shoulders were tense, your spine ramrod straight as you sank down onto the bench. Without thinking, your fingers flew angrily over the keys. You channeled all your rage and fury into the song, allowing yourself to feel every surge of emotion with each chord.

It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t fair.

The judgment in your classmate’s eyes. The cowardice in Slughorn’s words. The confusing swirl of emotions it made you feel.

You weren’t used to feeling so much. You valued logic above all and yet here you were, taking out your frustrations on this grand piano like it had personally affronted you.

What in the bloody hell was happening to you?

“Beethoven,” a familiar voice drawled, startling you out of your thoughts. “Merlin, you must really be pissed to be playing moonlight.”

Theo slid into the bench beside you. The piece ended on an unpleasant note with a slam of your fingers.

You refused to look at him. “You should be in Charms right now.”

“So should you,” Theo countered. “Instead, you’re here abusing this poor piano.” He turned over, cocking his head. Then, in a gentler voice, he asked, “What happened, Y/N?”

“Slughorn gave me a letter of recommendation and an invitation to a slug club dinner.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy about that? It’s literally all you’ve been hoping for since first year.”

“He only did that because of the Angel’s Trumpet.”

“Which you brewed perfectly.”

“With your help,” you said with a sigh. “I wouldn’t have been able to brew it at all if you hadn’t helped me and I told him that. I told him that and he—” you inhaled sharply, feeling a million pinpricks in your lungs.

Theo furrowed his brow. “You told him I helped you? Why would you do that?”

“Because, it’s the truth. We both know I couldn’t have done it without you. I don’t deserve that letter of recommendation or the dinner invitation. You do.” You took a ragged breath. “I know it. You know it. Slughorn knows it, but do you know what he told me? He said he couldn’t offer either to you because the optics aren’t in your favor.”

He remained silent, quietly watching you. Theo didn’t even look angry, which frustrated you even more.

“Did you hear me? Slughorn says that he can’t invite his star pupil to dinner because of how it would look. He can’t reward a student’s hard work because it would tarnish his precious reputation.”

Theo stared at you as though he were trying to work something out. He must have found whatever it was, because a second later, he was smiling.

“My nemesis coming to my defense?” He teased, nudging you with his elbow. “Don’t tell me that you’re actually starting to like me, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish, Nott.” As determined as he was to treat the matter lightly, you just couldn’t seem to let go of it. “No, this isn’t about hate or like. Being judged for your father’s actions isn’t fair.”

Theo merely shrugged. “Nothing in life is fair.”

“How are you not angry about this?”

“Experience.”

You paused. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, is it?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” you seethed, baffled that he wasn’t as outraged as you were. “It’s prejudiced bullshit! We’ve been rivals for years and you’ve never once brought up the fact that I’m muggleborn.”

Theo grinned. “There’s plenty of things about you that annoy me that are completely unrelated to your blood status.”

“That’s exactly the point. You don’t buy into this whole blood purity nonsense, but Slughorn is acting like you do.”

“It’s been like this my entire life,” Theo said as if you were merely discussing the weather. “That’s not to say that my existence is some sob story. I am still rich and handsome, after all, but there are stains that even my devastating good looks and trust fund can’t blot out.”

“But you didn’t make those stains.”

Theo smiled sadly. “Neither did Draco or Pansy or Mattheo, but we all pay the price for it anyways.” His hands hovered over your shaking fingers. “It’s alright, Y/N. Since we were old enough to understand, we’ve all known and accepted that our family's reputations will always precede us. For better or for worse. Besides, I much prefer people whispering behind my back than facing a dementor’s kiss.”

“It’s not fair,” you repeated, feeling your heart clench in your chest. “You’re not your father.”

To your surprise, Theo took your face in his hands and kissed you. It was a gentle kiss, his lips pressed softly against yours, noses brushing while he caressed the curve of your jaw. When he pulled away, something heartbreaking flashed through his features.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. “For caring enough to be angry.”

The combination of the look of gratitude on his face and the soft way he said those words wrenched at your heart. Theo was grateful. Grateful to have someone who cared.

You didn’t know why, but it felt like your heart was breaking.

It must have showed on your face because Theo tilted your chin and kissed you again. This time, he didn’t hold back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. The kiss was a conversation—every peck and nip and bite littered with words that you were too afraid to say. His tongue slid against yours and the taste of him was intoxicating. You could’ve kissed him for hours and you would have if you hadn’t realized that the choir was set to be practicing in this exact room in less than ten minutes.

“We have to go,” you murmured against Theo’s mouth.

“Don’t,” Theo whispered, stealing kisses. “Wanna.” His fingers tangled in your braid as he chased your lips.

“We can go to my dorm.”

Theo pulled away and stared at you. “Your dorm?”

You nodded. “Luna’s in class, as are the rest of my housemates. The tower is completely empty. Why shouldn’t we take advantage of it?”

He smirked. “I like the way you think, my devious little Ravenclaw.”

On high alert, the two of you snuck out of the fourth floor and into the fifth. You quickly answered the eagle’s riddle to enter the common room.

“Wait,” you said, turning towards Theo. “How did you get past the knocker downstairs?”

“I offered to grease its hinges,” he replied salaciously. You snorted, which made him smirk. “I’m kidding. I answered the riddle, obviously. Honestly your constant questioning of my abilities would be rather offensive if I wasn’t made aware of your gallant attempt of defending my honor.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him into the common room. As you predicted, the tower was completely empty. Theo surveyed the floor to ceiling windows, the four story bookshelves, and the star flecked glass ceiling with awe and admiration. He whistled, taking his surroundings in.

“No wonder you hate the dungeons. This is—excuse the pun—quite magical.”

“It’s even better at night,” you said, staring up at the domed ceiling. “You can practically touch the stars from this high up. If you’re good, maybe I’ll find a way to sneak you in again.”

Theo smirked. “I haven’t even stepped foot in your dorm yet and you’re already thinking about next time. A bit eager aren’t we, dolcezza?”

You rolled your eyes and dragged him into a narrow hallway. The dorm you shared with Luna sat at the top of the spire, offering you the best view in the castle. With a flick of your wand, you unlocked the door.

“Come in before I change my mind, Nott.”

Theo was just as nosy as you were back at his dorm, if not more. He took in the twin blue and gold canopy beds, the arched bay windows strung with enchanted fairy lights, and the built in bookshelves that lined the walls. Despite this, there were still stacks of books by your bedside table that were set to topple over at any moment. Theo gravitated towards your side of the room and ran his fingers through the spines of your beloved novels.

He peered curiously at the pinboard by your desk, examining the variety of pictures—muggle and magical, the concert tickets, the pressed flowers, and even the framed photo of you with your mum and dad standing on platform 9 ¾ taken right before your very first trip to Hogwarts. Theo’s smile widened as he toyed with the hem of his jumper, which was currently draped over your chair. As much as you hated to admit it, the damned thing was so comfortable that you’d taken to sleeping in it almost every night.

“Are you quite finished snooping?” you asked, flushing.

Theo smirked and stalked over to you. “Why? Do you have other plans for me, diavolina?”

“A few.”

He walked you to the bed until the back of your legs met the edge of your mattress. Theo gripped your waist, dipping his head down so his lips ghosted over the hollow of your throat. You arched against his mouth and the low rumble of his dark laughter skittered over your skin.

“Show me, then.”

You pulled him in by his tie and he grinned, leaning down to kiss you. Theo chuckled darkly as you flipped positions and pushed him onto the bed. He watched with hungry eyes as you crawled over him, his wandering hands roaming up your skirt. You gasped as he gripped your thighs, positioning you over him as his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.

There was so much heat and tension between you that it felt like you might spontaneously combust. His touch was fire against your skin, tracing every curve and dip like he was committing every detail to memory. You unbuttoned his shirt and he watched carefully, those hypnotizing eyes locking you in place while he allowed you to undress him.

The romps with Theo had always been frantic and rushed—stolen moments in cupboards, closets, and classrooms, but this time you took it slow. You traced over every mole and scar and freckle on his torso, feeling the heat of his skin underneath your fingertips. His gaze never left yours as he helped you shrug out of your blouse, watching your reaction as he cupped your breasts over your bra before taking it off in one swift move. Once you stripped out of your layers, Theo leaned down to kiss you again.

His lips moulded perfectly to yours, a perfect mix of give and take. You groaned as he nipped at your bottom lip, teasing at the seam. The pressure of his hand against the base of your throat made you gasp.

Theo’s tongue slid against yours as he gently laid you down on your back. His arms bracketed your head on each side and he kept his eyes on your face as he lined himself up at your entrance. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter and when he pushed inside in one swift move, you nearly clawed at his back. The feel of him was so familiar and yet it left you gasping every time. Theo swallowed your moan as he thrust in slowly and your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms snaked through his neck so you could pull him closer.

The sunlight caught in his eyes, the blues and greens and golds refracting like a kaleidoscope in the golden hour glow. “Keep your eyes on me, bella.”

You opened your eyes, whimpering as Theo linked your fingers together. The kisses he gave you were deep, tender, and his lips caressed yours in a way that made you forget your own name. He groaned as you canted your hips against his, meeting his pace with equal hunger.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re taking it so well for me.” Theo pinned your arms above your head and thrusted deeper. “Breathe, baby. There you go, love. You like that, don’t you?”

Theo pressed his forehead against yours. The hand that wasn’t holding yours crept up your neck, resting at the hollow of your throat. He caressed the side of your neck possessively.

“I need—I need—I,” you stuttered through the words, biting your lip to keep your eyes open. “Deeper, please. I need all of you.”

A stream of curses flowed effortlessly past Theo’s lips. You were already well acquainted with his filthy mouth, but for Godric’s fucking sake, did he have to sound so bloody attractive while swearing in Italian? It was truly, honestly, unfair to the rest of the world. A temptation perfectly crafted to make your knees weak and your heart flutter.

“Oh god, oh fuck, please—“

“You sound so pretty when you beg, but don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Theo hiked your legs over his shoulders and drove into you at a deeper angle. You felt him shudder as your walls clenched around him.

He groaned as you raked your nails across his back. “Feels so good. Don’t stop, please. Just give me all of it.”

“It’s yours, Y/N. All yours.”

Your bodies moved in sync, skin melding against skin until you became a mass of tangled limbs and sex soaked desire. When you locked eyes again, it felt like Theo was peering into your soul.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “Are you close, pretty girl? I can feel it.” He kissed your temple as he filled you over and over again. “Come with me. Can you do that, amorina?”

You nodded as Theo’s fingers brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, pushing you to the precipice. Stars exploded behind your eyes as your body shook underneath his. Theo groaned as he finished, his hips stuttering against yours. He rested his head in the crook of your neck and kissed the hollow of your throat gently.

Instinctively, you brushed back his curls and traced soothing circles against his skin. Theo looked up, his gaze filled with loaded emotion. His eyes flickered over you as though he was savoring the rare display of vulnerability. The two of you laid there for a while, content to bask in the afterglow.

“Dinner will be starting soon,” you whispered, half afraid to break the little bubble of bliss.

“I know.”

“We should probably clean up and get ready.”

“Probably.”

You chuckled. “You know that means we both have to get up and out of bed, right?”

Theo sighed. “Fine.”

Slowly, he gathered his clothes and began putting them back on. You walked over to your chair and shrugged on his jumper before redoing your disheveled braid. When you turned around, you found Theo staring at you with an unreadable expression. There was a faint smile on his face as his eyes raked over the huge jumper covering your body.

“Come to my game.”

You blinked. “What?”

“That’s what I want in exchange for helping you with the draught.”

“I’m not going to cheer for you. In fact, I might cheer against you.”

Theo smirked. “You really know how to deflate a bloke’s ego, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Good. I don’t need your head getting bigger than it already is.”

“That’s strange. You seemed to be enjoying my impressive size just a second ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed Theo’s shirt at his bare torso. “Goodbye, Theodore.”

“I’ll see you on the pitch, princess.”

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#lskjdfkljsdf hey man i'm totally so chill about theo like its so casual #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine

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lunarharp · 2 years

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lawyer scribble time for comfort

#ace attorney tag #these aren't very interesting..just doodle type things. enjoying the freedom of drawing characters for the first time bc i can draw now #i keep telling myself im sad atm so i need to stop drawing and just Exist to think my life through and then EVERY DAY i draw anyway.#it's like physically impossible to restrain myself it's like a constant urge.#sounds like a good thing i guess but i literally accomplish nothing else i have no social life and my room is a disaster.#so dont feel jealous lol.. not of this creature.#anyway listened to dgs songs during these. such haunting melodies.....only herlock sholmes understands me.#(light inconsequential dgs spoilers) why was hosonaga-san coughing up blood the whole time. i was mourning him his every appearance #bc i loved that man. and i assumed he was going to drop dead any second but he was just. fine #i mean apart from how he's my age yet mostly grey-haired and probably dying of tuberculosis #rare ace attorney character who just dies quietly off-screen at a later date instead of dramatically in front of you while accusing you #rare ace attorney character who bleeds politely and pathetically instead of writing your name with it

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dogboytim · 8 months

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hey can you write a story about Thomas Hewitt getting jealous when a man is talking to his S/O

OH BOY CAN I. ANON IM GONNA SMOOCH YOU FOR THIS.

This is more fluff than anything because I need this scenario out of my head.

It wasn’t very often Thomas got jealous. There was nothing for him to be jealous of most times. Nobody really came out that far unless that got lost. A similar situation to how you ended up here but obviously you had a more happy ending compared to most.

The Texas heat was rarely friendly, especially on days like today when you and Thomas were cooped up in Luda Mae’s shop. The small desk fan did nothing to cool the two of you down but they didn’t exactly have money for a good AC unit.

“Hey, sweetheart.” A thick southern drawl came from the door, causing both you and Thomas to look. The man definitely wasn’t from here. That wasn’t a Texan accent at all. It was clear from the way Thomas clenched his jaw that the pet name didn’t sit right with him.

“Can I help you?” You tried your best to sound polite but it came out more passive aggressive. You watched as the man strolled in, head held high like he owned the whole damn state. Thomas didn’t care much for people in general but this man was pushing his limits by just existing.

The man leaned over the counter, eyes looking you up and down like a stray dog eyeing a piece of meat. “I’m a bit lost and I was wondering if you had a map or something.” He moved closer, the top half of his body nearly over the counter. You opened your mouth to speak but you were quickly silenced when Thomas slammed a map down on the counter.

He had officially had enough.

The man took the map and gave your boyfriend a glare. You could see that if you didn’t get Thomas out of here soon, he was going to snap. You wished the man the best of luck and told Luda Mae that you and Thomas were headed home to cool off.

“Thomas, you do I love you and only you right?”

No answer. Not that you expected one anyway.

You sighed, pulling into the driveway. It was likely Hoyt would bring the man back for supper. You knew Thomas would enjoy killing him but right now you had to focus on reminding him that you loved him.

“Tommy.” That got his attention. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking what you wanted. Your hands found their way to his face, thumbs running over his cheeks. Gently, you lowered his mask. This was something he only let you do.

You kissed him.

That kiss made his heart flutter. Oh how he loved the way your lips melted against his. If this was what he got for being jealous, you can bet it’ll happen more often.

#horror #horror movies #slashers #slasher imagines #slasher fanfiction #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm 2003 #tcm 2006 #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader

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cuubism · 4 months

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been wanting to write a sort of grey-ace character first time for a while now, so here it is with dream and hob from the silly cafe universe. tackling grey-asexuality can be a tricky prospect as it has the possibility of falling into a "you just haven't met the right person yet" asexual erasure stereotype, but uninformed black and white judgements will exist in the world anyway regardless of whether we explore shades of grey. so here it is anyway, grey-ace dream. [rated E]

Dream thought he would wait, be more patient, but it only took a few dates before he was following Hob home. Perhaps that already counted as waiting. He never knew what the timeline of these things was "supposed" to be.

But he knew he liked being with Hob. He liked when Hob held his hand, or hugged him. He discovered that Hob could easily tolerate his silent spells, often so annoying to others, by filling them with his own chatter. It was soothing to listen to him talk. He discovered that as easygoing as he usually seemed, Hob could be quite intense, too. On their third date, someone had hit on Dream rather aggressively at a bar—an unusual occurrence he'd had no idea how to react to—and Hob had told them not quite politely to shove off. This had made Dream feel all sorts of things.

Perhaps that was why he went home with Hob after their next date. He expected they would just fall into bed, wasn't that how these things usually went, at least in stories? But instead Hob cooked him dinner. And Dream learned that Hob was an excellent cook; truly, it seemed, his only weakness was coffee. Which called into question why he worked at a cafe of all places, but Dream wasn't about to complain when it was what had brought them together.

Hob fed him dinner, and a glass of very good wine, thus proving that his sommelier abilities were also up to par, and Dream might have been planning the rest of their lives in his mind. It was fine if Hob couldn’t make coffee, Dream could make the coffee, if only Hob would keep making dinner for him, and letting him stay in his cozy apartment, and holding his hand on top of the table.

He watched Hob’s hands as he poured more wine. Hob had very nice hands; Dream knew what they felt like, now, holding his, and cradling his jaw, and carding through his hair as they kissed. Hob’s shirt looked very soft, and clung appealingly to his shoulders. Dream found his gaze drawn to Hob’s forearms, where he’d rolled up his sleeves.

It was hard to focus on the conversation, but he managed. Afterwards they wound up on the couch, sitting just close enough to be touching, and Dream was not sure what he was supposed to do. He had figured Hob had brought them back to his home because he wanted to have sex. That was a common expectation, was it not? Dream was not very good at predicting these things. Perhaps he was meant to initiate?

This was often the point where his past attempts at dating had gone sideways. Trying to intuit what he was meant to do usually did not go well for Dream. Normally whatever he did was, somehow, wrong.

“Dream?”

Dream shook himself back to the present. Hob was looking at him, head tilted, a slanted smile on his face. “You looked like you were thinking about something very deeply,” Hob said, a question in it.

He had draped his arm across the back of the couch behind Dream’s shoulders, and started trailing his fingertips up and down the back of Dream’s neck. It made Dream’s skin prickle pleasantly. Perhaps… it didn’t matter what he was ‘meant’ to do? And only whether he wanted to do it?

He was not sure he had ever truly wanted to before. Not the way that he did with Hob.

He leaned into Hob’s side, into the circle of his hold, and kissed him.

Hob made a low sound of surprise, but kissed him back, wrapping his arm around Dream’s shoulders to pull him closer. As always, it was so lovely to kiss him. There was something comforting about it, which Dream had never felt when kissing before, and more than that, it sparked something in him. That feeling, it was new. When Hob kissed him, when Hob ran a hand through his hair, when Hob pulled him close with a hand around his waist—it made something in him go hot, something he hadn’t felt before. And... he wanted. Even if it was new, and unfamiliar.

He took a deep breath, and slid into Hob’s lap.

Hob took a sharp breath and braced him by the hips. Dream settled into his lap, resting his hands on Hob’s shoulders, a little shiver running through him. It was good, though, it felt good. He didn’t know exactly where it was going to go, but he wanted to find out.

“Well, hi, darling,” said Hob, a pleased smile growing on his face. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You are horrible,” Dream told him, and Hob’s smile only deepened.

“You like me, though,” he said, ducking his head almost bashfully, and Dream kissed him, right above one eyebrow, overcome with fondness for him.

“I do,” he said. So much. So much that he felt things that were unruly and strange—but he wanted to feel them.

He tipped Hob’s face back up, thumbs hooked under his jaw, and kissed him. Hob hummed happily, sinking into the kiss. He slipped his hands under Dream’s shirt, fingertips pressing into his bare back, and Dream shuddered.

“Did you want to move things into the bedroom?” Hob murmured, lips brushing Dream’s. “Is that what that meant?”

Dream nodded, breathless, and then Hob was wrapping his arms around his thighs and picking him up. Dream squeaked as Hob stood up, holding on tight to the back of Hob’s neck, and Hob grinned at him. “You seemed to like it when I caught you.”

Dream had. Dream very much had. And he liked it now, Hob’s strong arms under his thighs, and how tightly they were pressed together. He felt all warm inside, like his body might set itself on fire in a flurry of a thousand sparks, and it was… scary. He hadn’t felt that way before, but he didn’t want it to stop. He wanted more.

“I did. I. Had wondered before if you would be able to pick me up,” he admitted, blushing, and Hob’s smile turned mischievous.

“Oh, yeah? I can do a lot more than that, love.”

“Like what?”

So Hob carried him into the bedroom. It didn’t seem very difficult for him, which made Dream’s stomach flip. When they reached his room, Hob tossed him on the bed. Dream landed with a gasp in the pillows.

“Like that,” Hob said, grinning. He tugged Dream’s shoes and socks off, and then his own, and Dream made grabby hands at him. Hob crawled up the bed after him, settling between his legs. His weight over Dream made him shiver pleasantly. He ran his hands up and down Hob’s arms, over his shirt, surprised by how much he truly wanted to touch him. And to have Hob touch him.

Hob kissed him deeply, then gazed down at him, his gaze heavy. Dream swallowed, throat dry. Hob stroked Dream’s hair. “You’re so pretty, you know.”

“Thank you,” said Dream, and Hob laughed. He kissed the corner of Dream’s mouth, then his cheek, little pecking kisses. He played with the hem of Dream’s shirt.

“Can I take your shirt off?”

Dream nodded, breathless, and Hob sat up enough that he could pull Dream’s shirt up and off over his head. He trailed his hands down Dream’s chest, over his stomach. Dream followed his touch, everything else fading to the background. He wished Hob would touch him all over. What a strange, scary, delightful feeling.

He tugged on Hob’s shirt, and Hob let him pull it off over his head. His chest was broad, and far hairier than Dream’s, and Dream stared, then laid his hands on Hob’s body, mesmerized.

“This is very flattering,” Hob said, humor in his voice, as Dream kept touching him. “What do you want, darling? Because I’d love to get my mouth on you.”

Dream’s attention was suddenly wrenched away from his examination of Hob’s chest by the fact that he was painfully hard. That Hob’s voice and words alone could do that—he hadn’t thought it was possible.

“Okay,” he said, voice tight.

Hob unbuttoned his jeans, and Dream lifted his hips so he could pull them off. Dream felt very exposed then, but Hob’s gaze on him was kind, and hot, as he looked Dream up and down. Dream reached for the waistband of Hob’s jeans—it suddenly felt very important that Hob be naked, too, if Dream was going to be. “Can you—?”

“Of course.” Hob slipped out of his own jeans, then sat before Dream on the bed again, only in his boxers, their legs brushing. Dream studied him, the strength of his thighs, of his hands, the weight of his arousal in his underwear. He had never gone this far with someone, wanted to go this far. He felt like he might combust. This was all so new, but he trusted Hob. He wanted to see where it would go.

Hob ran his hands up Dream’s legs, from his ankles, over his knees, up his thighs, thumbs brushing the crease where his thigh met his hip, and Dream shuddered, feeling heavy and warm and so very aware of everything around him. Hob was like a beacon, everything about him drew Dream’s eye, his presence so strong that everything in Dream wanted to go to him. Touch him, kiss him, lean on him, have Hob touch him. It was an overwhelming fire within him, consuming all sense.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hob said, voice a low rumble that Dream felt in his belly. “Tell me what you like, sweetheart?”

“I—” Dream didn’t know. He had rarely wanted any of it enough to consider it. He knew that he wanted Hob to touch him, but not much more detail than that.

“Wait, have you ever…?” Hob asked, suddenly unsure of himself, pulling his hands back. Dream did not want him to take his hands back, and briefly considered lying, saying, of course, of course I have, who hasn’t? But he didn’t want to lie to Hob. He shook his head.

“Shit.” Guilt settled on Hob’s features. He had nothing to feel bad for, nothing, Dream thought. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

“It is alright.” Dream huffed a laugh, but there was little humor in it. “It is a reasonable assumption, at our age, is it not?”

“Still. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

His mouth twisted in disappointment, and Dream took his hands, placed them back on his own legs. “You didn’t. I want to. If you’ll forgive my inexperience.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Dream.” Hob stroked his thumbs lightly over Dream’s legs, more a soothing motion now. “Nothing. You want to?”

“I do,” Dream said, still a bit shaken by the realization. “I never have because… I never wanted anybody. Not the way that I want you.”

“Oh.” Hob’s lips tipped back up into a half-smile. “Never fell for anybody else, then?”

“Mean,” Dream grumbled, and Hob laughed.

“That’s okay.” He seemed to be coming around to the situation now; he leaned forward again so he was almost in Dream’s lap, and murmured against his cheek, “Just means I get to make sure your first time is just as good as you deserve.”

“You are very sure of yourself,” Dream said, but curled his fingers around Hob’s hips, holding him close.

“I know what I’m good at,” Hob said.

“In that case I should probably inform you that you are terrible at making coffee,” Dream said, and Hob laughed, the sound loud so close to Dream’s ear. It made him smile.

“Wow,” Hob said. “I know, okay? I’m not usually in charge of it. Normally I just bake.”

Dream pulled back just far enough to see his face. “You… are not?”

Hob gave him a bashful smile. “Just wanted the chance to see you. Would have missed you if I was working in back.”

Dream stared at him, astonished—and touched, too. “I demand recompense for all the horrific coffee you forced me to consume.”

“It can be arranged,” Hob said. And kissed Dream again, his lips soft but sure. Knowing that Hob had been specifically engineering things to be able to see him, just as Dream had— it only made him like Hob more.

“Will you touch me?” he asked, and Hob groaned.

“Think I might die if I don’t.”

He eased Dream back to lie down against the pillows, then pulled off his underwear. Dream was breathing hard again now, lying naked under Hob’s hungry gaze. He hoped he wouldn’t faint, but it felt like a distinct possibility. At least Hob had proven that he wasn’t bothered by that, once before.

“I still want to get my mouth on you,” Hob murmured. “Is that okay?”

“Please.” Dream liked Hob’s mouth. He wanted Hob’s mouth on him. Had he ever felt that way before? He didn’t think so. But he imagined Hob taking him in his mouth and he wanted.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Hob said. “Since you walked into the cafe that first time, can you believe it? Sorry. Hope that doesn’t creep you out.”

The thought of Hob imagining this while talking to him over the counter only made Dream feel hotter inside. “I like when you think about me.”

“And I like thinking about you.” He kissed the tip of Dream’s cock, and Dream gasped. “And being with you even more.”

He took Dream in his mouth then, and Dream lost all ability to respond to him. Hob’s mouth was so much. All-encompassing wet heat, the flat pressure of his tongue, and then Hob bobbed his head and took him deeper and Dream moaned, startling himself with the sound. He flailed, and found Hob’s hair, holding onto it for balance, and Hob hummed his approval.

Hob felt so good. Dream did not know how he was supposed to survive it. Perhaps Hob wouldn’t mind if he didn’t. Perhaps he’d take it as a compliment. Dream felt much like how he had right before he’d fainted on Hob at the cafe, a rush of pleasant lightness at the thought that Hob was paying attention to him and wanting him, but he didn’t faint this time. He just fell into the pleasure of Hob’s touch.

He lost himself for a while, to Hob’s tongue, the pressure of his lips, his skillful pacing that kept Dream struggling to find where the edge was. He felt he was supposed to be participating more actively but he could not gather himself together enough to do more than play with Hob’s hair, to touch his jaw and throat and slick lips as if in a dream. He felt out of control, and Dream normally hated feeling out of control, but Hob felt so good that it was worth it.

“Hob,” he cried, as Hob dragged his tongue over him in a way he’d clearly learned would get a particular reaction. Dream’s hips twitched up, thrust automatically into Hob’s waiting mouth, and he rushed to apologize—but Hob moaned. The rumble of his voice was too much for Dream, who already felt held on a razor’s edge of control. The weight that had been building and building in his belly and thighs snapped in a rush and he came in Hob’s mouth, cock bumping the back of his throat. Flushed and overheated, he tugged on his own hair. It cut through the bright overwhelm of being touched.

Breathing hard, he looked down at Hob, who pulled off him slowly, and then swallowed. Dream swallowed, too, a shaky echo of the motion, and pet Hob’s hair, twining the long strands between his fingers.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I did not warn you.”

Hob slanted a smile at him. “It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into giving a blowjob to someone who’d never done it before. Besides—” he kissed the crook of Dream’s hip, tongue darting out to wet the skin “—I wanted to taste you.”

Hob was too much for him. He made Dream feel so overwhelmed, but in a good way, such a good way. Hob crawled up Dream’s body to kiss him, arms bracketing Dream’s head, and Dream let the heat of Hob's mouth, and the pleasant wake of orgasm wash over him.

"Good?" Hob murmured, and Dream nodded. Good, yes, so good. He pulled Hob closer so all of Hob’s body was pressed to his, Hob’s weight over him. There was so much skin like this, so much heat, Hob’s hair brushing his stomach and the strong planes of his back under Dream’s hands. Hob groaned as his erection ground into the crook of Dream’s hip, and Dream needed, suddenly needed to see him come, too. He wanted to see Hob fall apart. He wanted to be the one who made it happen.

He tugged on Hob’s boxers, and Hob budged up enough that together they were able to get them off. Then Dream pulled him back in, wrapped a leg around the back of Hob’s thigh, chasing skin touch. Hob kissed his throat, grinding his cock against Dream’s sharp hipbone, the flat muscles of his belly. An image flashed through Dream’s mind of Hob moving like that but in him and he was startled by how fiercely he wanted it.

It was joyful, too, to hold Hob close to him and feel his pleasure. Hob did not have to be inside him for Dream to feel that he had never been so close to another person before. It was fascinating and beautiful, the mess of Hob’s lips on his skin, the glide of precome, the moving warmth of Hob’s body.

He reached between them and took Hob in hand. Hob stuttered at the touch, then groaned. “Fuck, your hands.”

“Have you been thinking about them?” Dream asked. A thrill ran through him as Hob nodded. Dream would not have expected himself to want to, to be able to try to stoke Hob’s pleasure through words, this was all so new, but— “Did you imagine me touching you like this?” He twisted his grip around Hob, and Hob shuddered. “My hand wrapped around your cock?”

It did not feel awkward as Dream would have expected. Unlike with the stressful repartee of public conversation, he only had to focus on Hob’s reactions, and how he could use his words to turn Hob’s imagination, like he did with his stories. Hob was not even looking at him as he spoke, but he was focusing on him, Dream could tell.

He let Hob thrust into his hand, encouraging him on with his leg still wrapped around the back of his thigh, dragged his other hand through Hob’s hair, and murmured, “Did you know that I rarely fantasize about anyone, but once I met you I could not stop thinking about you touching me?”

“Dream.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised—Hob was, he was beautiful to Dream, he was an explanation of something Dream had always wanted to understand—and Hob whined. Dream caressed the back of his neck, down his spine. “I want to see you come.”

And Hob did, gasping against Dream’s throat and spilling into his hand. It thrilled Dream more than his own pleasure, to feel Hob come for him. Hob’s desire for him, and how he responded to Dream’s voice.

“Fuck, Dream.” Hob’s weight was heavy on him now, his breath hot against Dream’s throat. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Nor I,” Dream admitted, and Hob chuckled.

“You’ll be a monster now that you’ve got started,” he said. They lay there like that for a few heartbeats, catching their breath, Dream running his fingers through Hob's hair. Then Hob pushed himself up on his elbows to look at him, hair falling into his eyes, a fond look on his face. “So. First time. Did you enjoy yourself?”

It was harder to speak again with Hob looking directly at him, but Hob’s look on him was kind, so Dream persisted. “I did,” he said, and Hob’s smile deepened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “And it is not so often that I enjoy something that is new to me.”

Hob kissed him lightly on the lips. “I'm so glad, love. That's what I wanted for you.”

He pet Dream’s hair. The touch felt so nice. “I…” Dream started, because he did have something more he wanted to say to Hob, hard though it sometimes was to speak. Hob looked at him expectantly, waiting. “I did not know what it meant to want this— or to want someone until I wanted you,” Dream admitted. “And… it was not something that I needed. But now that I have it, I do want it, and I want to explore more. With you.”

Hob’s smile softened. "Seeing you enjoy yourself was better than I could have hoped for. Happiness is so gorgeous on you. So don't hesitate to tell me what you're thinking of." He kissed Dream’s cheek, and by the corner of his eye. “There’s a lot I want to explore with you."

There was a low burn of heat in his words, and Dream’s body prickled in expectation. So strange, the way that he responded to Hob, without intention or control, and it was so much stronger now that he knew what Hob’s hands, and mouth, on him felt like. There was so much to discover. He thought of what he had imagined, Hob moving within him, but didn't speak that desire yet. He did not think he was yet ready to bring that from imagination to reality. But someday.

Hob fetched a damp towel to clean them up, then pulled Dream close to him again. It was very warm, like that, their legs tangled, Dream’s head pillowed on Hob’s arm. He had never lain in bed naked with another person before. He found that he liked it. At least with Hob.

“Thank you,” he said, lips pressed to Hob’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

“I do not… often know what I am doing, in these situations,” Dream said. “But I never feel like I am doing it wrong, when I am with you.”

Hob kissed the top of his head. “You’re not doing it wrong,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

“That is objectively untrue, but thank you.”

Hob laughed, and held him close, arms wrapped around him. Dream felt encompassed, grounded. It was a good feeling. Hob was a good feeling. One that Dream certainly intended to hold onto.

He tucked his head in against Hob’s chest, and, smiling, let the dreams he had been spinning at dinner, of Hob cooking for him, of staying, fill his mind again. Only now, there were a few other things included in those dreams, too.

#hob's trying to be normal about it so it doesnt have to feel like a huge deal for dream #but inside i think he's 5 trillion exclamation points in a row. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! about it all #meanwhile dream accidentally discovered hob's praise kink and now is like New Toy! New Toy! New Toy!#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #last fic of the year baby #i've obsessed over this for long enough i must release it

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sarah-yyy · 16 days

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what is war of faith about? is it worth a watch apart from just wang yibo(being gay?)? and where should i watch it?

you were all expecting me to do this so okay let's see how many others i can drag down this shenlai (i think this is the ship name we've settled on?? i have seen many 沈来之笔 tags on ao3 so i'm assuming that's what the chinese fandom has settled on) hole.

what: republican era communist spy drama (finance bros edition) // completed // 38 eps, roughly 40 mins each where: iqiyi (standard disclaimer that i don’t watch with subs so i don’t speak to the quality of eng subs) why: *chanting* yibo yibo yibo yibo yib- wang yang?? xiansheng???? i'll preface by saying i don't watch many republican era shows - it's really just not my thing, like even zhu yilong couldn't make me watch one and that's saying a lot, but i did finish and quite enjoy this one!! extremely strong cast on this show, and the story moved fast enough and had enough action in it that it kept my attention.

meet my boy wei ruolai:

ruolai is from a v humble family, worked hard to put himself through night school but is having trouble stepping foot into the finance world because he has no money, no connections, no diploma (the school is holding off on issuing him one because he's from a communist-stronghold province 😪). he's working several jobs to make ends meet in shanghai when he decides to interview for a job at the central bank.

he aces his entrance test! ofc he does! ruolai is a bit of a whiz with numbers, and is very very very determined to get the job - the place could be on goddamn fire for all he cares, he'll finish his goddamn test and get this goddamn job even if it kills him.

his performance gains him the attention of shen tunan:

xiansheng!! 😍💖💕

chief of the central bank, The Guy™ of the finance and banking industry in shanghai. extremely attractive in a suit. 100% dilf certified.

xiansheng takes a shine on ruolai, but ends up not being able to hire ruolai despite his excellence because, again, ruolai is from a communist-stronghold province, and they don't want to take any chances with him possibly having communist ties.

does that set ruolai back?? no. my boy sneaks into a party that shen tunan is holding at his mansion, and convinces shen tunan to hire him by essentially picking apart shen tunan's ~secret strategies~ that he's uncovered just by following the finance news and making smart deductions 🥺💚

shen tunan caves and personally hires ruolai as his PA, and begins mentoring him and teaching him the ways of the banking industry.

the show is mostly about ruolai's growth in the central bank and the shift of his political beliefs, centred around the kmt and communist party's conflict in that era. the premise of the show is fairly simple - most republican era dramas move in the same direction. this one was well-written, had a solid cast, and beautifully shot.

the development of stn and wrl's relationship in this show was good! it's v shippable, if that's something that is important to you. ngl, i did stay through till the end because these two were so interesting.

we have proud teacher shen tunan who is so so proud of his boy and takes ruolai suit-shopping and tells him how special he is :

starry-eyed disciple wei ruolai who would literally do anything for shen tunan:

he really does mean it when he says that. he gets tortured and thrown in goddamn jail for shen tunan, and he just bears it all and doesn't let himself react in any manner that could harm shen tunan.

i started this strictly for yibo, and had no expectations that i would enjoy it, but guys...........wang yang is 🥵🔥 in this as shen tunan, and this ship just.......sails itself. what else was i supposed to do except go three hundred different levels of ahhhhhhhhh over them.

ANYWAY. strong rec. like at least 8.5/10. even if you're just in it for yibo (who is EXCELLENT in this, the whump scenes are incredible), or if you just want to ship shenlai, the payoff is strong in this.

#tv rec #war of faith #shenlai

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sopiao · 8 months

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OMG HIIIIII ^^

i feel like there’s not enough price love on this app >:( so i wanted to request a reader that moves in across the hall from Price. and gets a little crushy crush on you 😻

LIKE OMG he helps you move in, do all the heavy lifting. such a gentlemen. always there whenever your AC breaks down. he just so happens to run into you in the complex’s laundry room. somehow always awake when you need him.

please ignore this if you want or don’t feel like it!! take care of urself boo!

PLS IVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO DO THIS THE SECOND I FIRST READ IT. honestly such a cute idea :^

anyways- 👀

Price was a very private man, never discussing any deep or emotional issues or feelings with anyone. He hated small talk, always found it awkward or bothersome. He didn’t feel as lonely as he thought he’d be, he liked the peace and the time he has for himself. Yes, he will be polite, but would rather prefer being by himself. But he’d try his best to avoid any interaction without being rude.

That was until he heard talking and a series thuds outside. Price was always very nosy and curious so he looked through the peephole of his door and saw you standing in front of the apartment across from his, it was empty for as long as he’s been there. Boxes were scattered along your feet.

He’s not sure why, but he felt like he should help you. He told himself it was just to make a good first impression of course. He scrambled to find the nearest clean shirt he could find. Coming out to meet you, Price was awkward at first, feeling like it was a bad idea at the last second until he saw your face, a soft and welcoming smile.

“Hi! Sorry about the boxes, I’ll be quick” You chuckle awkwardly, looking at the boxes that took up one side of the hallway. A smile instantly grew on him as he reassured you that it was alright and that it wasn’t a bother.

“You need a hand? I have some free time” He offered, lying, not wanting to seem like an eager creep that’ll snatch a pair of underwear from you while your not looking.

“You sure? I don’t wanna take up any of your time” Of course you were grateful for the offer but didn’t wanna be a bother. He insisted that he helped and that he wouldn’t be late to the nonexistent plans he made up. You didn’t doubt that he couldn’t do it. I mean, just look at him. His arms alone made you drool.

He made sure to make a show of it when he helped you out. Holding a box close against his barrel chest, making sure to subtly flex his arms he knew you were eyeing. Occasionally, you’d sneak a glance of his ass when you would go back out to bring in another box.

Price even helped you bring in all of your furniture from the downstairs lobby to the second floor. Doesn’t sound like much but when your bringing in furniture up and down and up and down— it gets tiring as hell. And fortunately for your case, sweaty.

Right after bringing in the couch, he did 80% of the lifting, you plopped down across it for a little break. Price pulling up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his neck and face, showing you what you’ve been thinking about since the beginning. He was turned to the side so it didn’t look as obvious that he was showing off for you, but you still got that full view.

—

Price was excited when he heard a knock on his door, even more when he saw you, if he was a dog his tail would be wagging side to side.

“Sorry to bother you again, but do you know how to fix an AC? Or a repair number I can call?” You asked, chuckling nervously, again he pretended that he had free time in between plans he didn’t really have. Plus, it took him away from his heaps of paperwork and got to be in your presence, even if it’s for a short while.

“‘Course. I have some time” Flashing the charming smile you always thought about. Following you into your apartment with a reasonably sized tool box. He couldn’t help but eye how you looked, dressed to try and accommodate the hot weather without a functioning AC. Loose black tank top and grey sweatpants.

“Thank you! I would’ve probably roasted to death if I went one more minute with out it. So sorry to bother you again” You grinned, relief washing over you, the cool air against your boiling skin and sweat woke you instantly.

“No problem at all” He shrugged, putting his tools back in the red metal box, resting his surprisingly soft hand on your shoulder.

“Feel free to call me anytime anything needs fixing” His touch seemed to linger, along with your and his gaze on each other.

—

Price sprang up in a second and came running into your apartment when he heard a scream, the door was unlocked. He found you sitting on your counter with a pan, clearly afraid and scared.

“What?! What happened?!” He yelled, looking around your apartment for an intruder or something, his wooden bat being held over his shoulder, ready to strike.

You stuttered, too scared to reply, even think to form a sentence.

“A spider”

“What- Wait- Seriously?” He let the bat drop to his side, laughing at how seriously afraid your expression was.

“Yes, seriously! It’s huge, John! It’s as big as my hand!” You yell, trying to get to him while he laughs.

“Fine. Where is it?” He smirked. You followed him to your bedroom where the spider was. It really was as big as an atom, he couldn’t even find it until it moved up the wall.

—

When John heard your knock at his door he took no longer than a second, ready to open the door and greet you. Wondering what you’d want at this time of the night. He stopped for a second, realizing that he may be a little too eager. Waiting a couple seconds, like one or two, and opening the door, pretending that he just ended a call.

“Hm?” He tilted his head, forearm resting on the edge of the door as he leaned against it. Somehow you were more charming than the last time he saw you. Looking so excited with a paper towel on your hand with a single treat on it. He pretended he didn’t see it, but was internally hoping it was for him.

“Oh, good. You’re awake” You chime happily, taking the thick brownie and pressing it up to his lips for a bite. Wanting for him to take the test brownie, but being to awkward to ask him normally. He hummed in surprise, accepting the baked good. Placing his hand under his chin to keep it from falling and leaving crumbs.

“So?” You asked a couple seconds later, he’s still chewing. He chuckles at your eagerness, nodding his head as he tried to finish up his bite.

“I- Uhh. Wow. This is—this is good. Mm, really good” He nods, taking another bite of it as he dusted of his hands. Making you delighted that he liked it. He held the last bit of it up to your mouth to take it. Biting it from his hands you looked to the side, nodding to yourself and taking mental notes.

“Good. Good. Needs chocolate chunks, a little too dry” He stares as you just talk to yourself, a soft smile on his face.

“Oh. Caramel! Or is that too thick?” You perk up, snapping your fingers and looking up for confirmation or disapproval.

“Frosting?” He adds cluelessly, knowing nothing of the science of baking.

“Frosting!” Your eyes light up, pointing your finger at the idea.

“Mocha, maybe? Or nuts?” He tried his best to help and contribute to your little brainstorming session. Nodding along with the idea you thank him and walk back to your apartment to tweak the recipe a bit.

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