#I have to actually check my activity and open the window to see if there's a new notif. Otherwise I'd have even LESS done LOL

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger 

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better. 

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm. 

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you? 

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably. 

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend  you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈 

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut  queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters. 

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped? 

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed. 

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together. 

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you. 

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week). 

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way). 

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction. 

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd. 

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin. 

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction. 

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway. 

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael. 

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael. 

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep. 

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote... 

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?" 

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were. 

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee. 

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair? 

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up. 

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look. 

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?" 

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?" 

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement. 

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money. 

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack.  "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition". 

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair. 

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said. 

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me." 

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute.  Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure. 

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm. 

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer. 

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you. 

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away. 

You remained seated and stayed. 

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman. 

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there. 

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender. 

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting? 

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts. 

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?" 

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone. 

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'. 

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

#bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x player #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #raphael x you #meta fanfic #knock knock

[mango-forest]

inspired by A Second Life by Die_Erlkonigin6083

“—lo?”

What?

“—an you hear us?”

Go away.

“The levels are stable. We should see if—”

He can’t move; he’s floating in place with wires attached to him. He can’t breathe; there’s some sort of liquid all around him. He can’t see; the liquid gel substance presses against his eyelids, forcing them shut.

“Process starting in three, two, one!”

What process? Just let him sleep.

“WARNING: SUBJECT F-4N70M DESTABILIZING. PLEASE CHECK ACTIVITY LOG.”

It’s getting warmer. He wants it to get cooler. Why is it getting warmer? He hates it. It only gets warmer when they’re doing tests. People are loudly talking to each other—or is it to him?

Is this another test?

-

He slowly opens his eyes. It is bright, in the way all of the Rooms are, sterilized white the only color on the walls. But there’s blue curtains surrounding the bed he’s in. They never let him have curtains.

Actually, there are a lot of differences between where he is and the Rooms. It’s hard to move, but when he turns his head to the side, it’s not only chairs and machinery that he sees, but there’s also a small table with flowers in a vase, and pillows stacked next to it. There is a tube connected to his nose, and another one leading to his arm. But the discomfort cannot compare to the awe he feels when he looks through the window and sees the darkness outside, speckled with lights.

He can see millions of lights past the window, glowing, tauntingly beyond his reach. It is overwhelming. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

He has to get closer.

Getting his body to move is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He clumsily paws at the tubes until they fall off and in the process tumbles out of his bed, crashing onto the floor. The machinery has gotten louder now, a constant screeching that he ignores as he painstakingly makes his way to the window. He has to slowly drag himself most of the way, but it’s worth it when he props himself against the wall, closer to the lights.

He hasn’t been there for more than a few minutes when someone sits next to him. “Hello,” the person—who was not there when he woke up—says. “What are we looking at?”

Why does the person have to look with him? He was looking at the lights first! “The lights,” he says. It’s quieter than he meant it to be. His voice is hoarse, and it actually hurts him to talk.

Something cool is pressed to his hand. “It’s water,” the person says. He doesn’t look away from the lights as the person sighs. He can’t curl his fingers enough to grab it. A hand presses against his chest, leaning him back into an embrace. Another hovers a few inches in front of his face, blocking his view of the lights.

Angrily, he looks at the other. The person smiles indulgently and uses the blocking hand to then grab the cup of water and raise it to his mouth. While he’s forced to slowly drink, the person says, “We call those lights ‘stars.’ Do you like stars?”

Carefully, he nods his head, a bit of water dribbling down his chin. Stars.

“I do too. Did you know there are other planets out there? My name actually came from one of those planets: my name is Nightwing. Do you have a name?” Nightwing asks slowly, placing the empty cup on the floor and then wiping the wet off his chin.

He also seems disappointed when all he gets in response is a blank stare.

“Okay then, kiddo,” Nightwing says. “Let’s get you back to bed.” The man shifts so that he’s now held against his waist. Then he gets up and they move back towards the bed with the blue curtains. They’re leaving the stars. Why are they leaving the stars? Is it because he didn’t answer? He weakly struggles against Nightwing, a whine leaving his throat. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s okay. You can still see the stars from the bed.”

But it isn’t the same! Frustrated, he tries to bite Nightwing’s shoulder to get him to stop, because even the biggest scientist stopped when he did it, but even that doesn’t work because Nightwing’s stupid black and blue suit is too tough!

“Aw, baby don’t do that. This is special material, you’re just going to hurt your teeth.” Don’t tell him what to do. He stubbornly bites down harder.

The sheets are cool against his skin and Nightwing uses his hand to press against his chin and cheeks in a certain way that loosens the bite enough that he can detach him.

Ignoring the glare directed at his whole being, Nightwing then tidies some previously unnoticed papers on the bedside table and hums a little tune. “You know, if you don’t have a name, then I can name you. What about. . . Babywing? Or . . . Pythagoras?”

“Name?” he asks, unable to have before. “What is. . .?”

He trails off at the end, but Nightwing seems to have understood, frowning for a moment before smiling again. “A name is what people call you. It’s who you are, in a way.”

He doesn’t know what a Pythagoras was, but he does know he doesn’t want to be called that. “‘M not a baby,” he rasps.

Nightwing pauses and looks at him with a smile, probably pleased he was talking. “Well, your charts say you’re seven. So you’re basically a baby. A baby with no name, which I shall now fix by naming you. . . Small Boy!”

“You’re not good at naming,” he informs the adult. He’s forced to drink more water before he continues, unimpressed. “I have a name.”

“Nuh-uh,” says Nightwing. “I would’ve known, Small Boy.”

“Yes, I do.” His throat has gone dry and Nightwing seems to notice as he produces another cup of water out of nowhere and helps him drink again. “They called me Phantom.”

Never to his face. Never when talking to him. But sometimes, they would shorten his label to Phantom when talking to each other, something easier for them to say. To him and to the lab recordings, he was referred to as Subject F-4N70M only. But the thought of Nightwing—the only person to treat him like a person—using his label, a string of letters and numbers. . . it gives him a weird feeling of shame.

Nightwing blinks. “Phantom? That’s. . . a very nice name.”

He shrugs. It’s not like he chose it. “It’s not a normal name,” he mumbles. None of the people in the lab have names like Phantom.

Nightwing sits on the edge of the bed, giving him a gentle look. “Well, I think it’s fine. Nightwing isn’t a very normal name, either. Phantom sounds cool. Like a hero’s name.”

“What is a hero?”

The frown is back again for a second before the gentleness replaces it. “Someone who helps and saves people. My hero name is Nightwing.”

“You’re a hero?” he says in slight wonder. “You saved me. You were the voice I heard.” It makes sense: if anyone fits the label of hero, it would be Nightwing, he thinks.

“You could hear us when you were in stasis? Well, I was the one there, and I am a hero! But hey,” Nightwing quickly adds, “If you want to have a different name then you can! You don’t have to keep the name they gave you.”

“Really?” It is barely above a whisper.

“Really,” Nightwing responds, firmly.

“Can I,” he starts, voice small, “have—there’s this name I—“ He swallows and looks around nervously. Waving Nightwing closer, the hero indulgently leans over. He says it so quietly it might have been a murmur: “Can my name be Danny?”

“Danny?”

He nods. He’s never said that name aloud before; it’s only ever been floating in his mind—in fact, he’s never really said it even in his mind. But he knows, as soon as the name leaves his mouth, that it’s his. “Yeah. Danny, not—not Daniel, Danny.”

Nightwing smiles widely, warmly. “Danny with the bluest eyes,” he coos.

Danny smiles back, shy but undeniably happy. A yawn escapes him, making him a bit surprised. When another one escapes him, Nightwing laughs and says, “Time for bed, I think.”

“I am in a bed already,” Danny says.

“No, like—I mean it’s time to sleep.”

Danny tries not to flinch, although he probably wilts judging by how Nightwing’s face goes a bit worried. “Oh. Where’s the capsule?” he asks, looking around as if he just missed it the first time and it was in a corner he hadn't thought to check.

Nightwing frowns. “Your capsule?”

“Yes. Where else would I sleep?” Danny asks. Nightwing’s face does something complicated. Danny hopes this isn’t when he finally gets upset and angry at him.

#danny’s like seven or smth btw and in an alternate universe #genuinely do not care if anyone adds to this feel free #dc x dp #also really go check out a second life it’s so good #dick seeing his sort of son already flippant about hospitals: yeah i can see it #dick left to get water so of course that’s when danny woke up

[hyaciiintho]

🌸｡*ﾟ+. ADHD as a roleplayer and ✨ creative ✨ person is just having 3 different drafts open at the same time, all varying in progression length, 2 other windows open (youtube and a reference), and a slew of stray papers scattered on the desk you intended to use for doodles but are still blank, and still coming up with new things to do even though you haven't done the first few things you started.

You finished 2 replies like 2 and a half hours ago and have posted nothing else.

#MUN SPEAKING 🌸 ᴬ ʷᵉᵃᵛᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵃˡᵉˢ; ᴾᵃⁱⁿᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ #And the IMs... don't get me started on the IMs... thankfully tumblr won't notify me of them so I can't suddenly LEAP into them #I have to actually check my activity and open the window to see if there's a new notif. Otherwise I'd have even LESS done LOL #This is why I have to close all IM apps when I'm on at any given moment or I'm just. #Not getting anything done. I hate that the hotel plays music with lyrics because my eyes just glaze over #and my attention starts picking up on the lyrics and I'm like 'Please I want silence I can't focus' #My focus lasts for an hour and then it's GONE c: #But UGH okay I just finished making coffee for the hotel guests so... lemme try and... FOCUS!!!!! #I'm about to start being interrupted by early workers ringing the door to come in and early guests checking out #but imma TRY!!!! MY HARDEST!!!! TO GET AT LEAST TWO MORE THINGS OUT!!!!! #Life is hard man hdfksjhdf functioning is hard

[unproduciblesmackdown]

kompenscovery was such a blessed secret entrance to a Whole Deal (winnie n tay. & i guess billions) when like. having the most specific, correct opinions, and being me, = the ideal is [nobody else try to talk to me about winston billions] and that’s just where we’re at. this is an exclusive experience

#talking to myself / making the wisdom Available by nailing my text posts (and drawings) to the church doors but then i walk away #meanwhile also of course the hero who permits [my monologuing abt winston all the more behind the scenes] w/o being sick of it after 9000hrs #i think probably other people talk abt winston but not in ways i'm interested in. Except absolute rando twitter billions viewers #this like 60 or 70 yr old lady from twitter who Loves winston. and presumably through the will roland angle lol she went to bway bmc.... #just other one off tweets abt ppl like yeah he's one of my / the fave. um hell yes my scholar #or no wait lmfao like again i'd talk about this w/beth roland in theory lmfao. maybe even also hero & scholar & relevant party william #the niche on niche on niche like. looking into deh As Jared Kleinman Lore. liking an actor's je ne sais quoi & scrambling when finding out #that his upcoming bway role is Thee Lead thank you very much....the dramatic fateful saga that was [ending up watching the then available #clips from billions which was up to kompenso]....finding the peak specific peak titrated peak Exact Enrichment gift lol #beyond that i don't see [media enjoyment / takes] as much of like a springboard for Broader Socializing or anything. it Can be ig but. #that's not the goal & not the expectation. at this point reflecting on Myself & My Experiences & My Heart's Truth lmfao i'm like #beyond [i don't think i'd enjoy A Friend Group in actuality] to [i don't think i'm that interested in Friends] series or concept lol #open to whatever & flexible or whatever but eh. already i like Impersonal & Parallel activity & doing my own thing perhaps amongst others #i like impersonal but amicable spontaneous; fleeting exchanges. doing xyz ''alone'' amongst other people. #i like Not having to people please & i'm autistic so i'm generally gonna be considered [unlikable / impersonable / too much / etc] adhd too #although it's not that specific like it goes for Anything. i don't want ppl to talk to me abt [xyz] lol #request a mini monologue / short essay sure but other than that #this isn't a forum....here's the posts left on the door. one can try the anchorite window or sending a letter. doing my own thing yknow #the secret here is ''i mean i like to talk to people but; i actually in practice tend to not like to talk to people'' lmfao #one can check back when many things are more on my own terms / suited to me but. buffering wheel / flipping hourglass mode

[rosemaryfollows]

Alastor, Husk, and Angel with an S/O who can’t get out of bed/do certain basic functions because of depression/PTSD?

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃, 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔.

|| synopsis : They love you so much you silly ||

|| word count : 856 ||

[ CW: fluff :P, cursing obvi, thank you for the req anon i luv u <333 ]

[ NOT!!! PROOFREAD !!!]

Ａｌａｓｔｏｒ

✯ As of late, Alastor had been noticing the lack of your presence more throughout his days. ✯ He wasn't one to constantly check on you, but he had begun to show signs of worry. ✯ He had asked Charlie to check on you for him, but she just knocked and when she didn't hear and answer, decided not to bother you because she was polite. ✯ However, after almost two weeks with no signs of you, he let himself into your room.

"My dearest fawn! However are you doing this ever so lovely morning?" His voice was far too loud and far too energetic for you, causing a grumble to come from under your covers. He went over to a nearby window and opened the curtains with that ever charming grin of his. "Come now my dear! Surely you must be getting tired of doing absolutely nothing!" He chirps, his voice still covered by that layer of static as he stood by your bed now. "Not now, Alastor.." You'd grumble, not even bothering to turn over and look at him. When you heard nothing but silence, you figured he'd left and tried to resume your activities of nothing at all. It shouldn't have been hard, but your covers suddenly being pulled off of you, and you being pulled up to your feet. "Oh dear! You look, absolutely terrible! Lets fix you up!" Alastor would say, almost declaring it to the entirety of hell. With a snap of his fingers he would change your clothes, fix your hair and make you smell.. much much better. "See? Isn't that much better?" He would hum and pat your head almost condescendingly.

✯ Needless to say, he wouldn't be the best at comforting or caring, but he would at least make you look better before returning to the public eye with him.

Ｈｕｓｋｅｒ

✯ It would only take a day for him to notice your absence, though he could only check on you after his shift for the hotel.

✯ He would worry all day about you, and it was obvious in his work, spilling over shot glasses and sloppily cleaning his glasses.

✯ He already knew about your past struggles with your self upkeep, seeing as he did, practically the same thing.

✯ He would show up to your home, knocking on your door and waiting a few seconds. After he got no answer he'd make his way inside.

He'd call your name once or twice, the bags in his hands rustling a bit as he began to search for you. A slight pang started in his heart as he began to fear for the worst. He eventually got to your bedroom, knocking slightly before entering. "Doll-face? You in here?" He said, his voice low. His eyes landed on the shape of your body under the covers, his worries soften. "Darlin', you doing alright?" He'd ask, setting the bags down by your door and making his way to your bed, sitting on the edge. You could only give a mumble of an answer, but he knew well enough to tell how you were feeling. He would hoist you up and hold you against his chest, not minding the state you were in. His paw ran through your hair, giving a deep sigh. "I'm here, y'know. You aren't alone in this."

✯ He'd get in in full, wanting to be there for you as much as he possibly could. He didn't want to see anything bad happen to you.

Ａｎｇｅｌ Ｄｕｓｔ

✯ Angel would take no time to notice your disappearance. He knew that just by associating with him, you were at risk of getting hurt by Val.

✯ When he'd go to, 'work', his performance would lack, due to his worrying if you were somewhere in the same building, going through what he was.

✯ He'd learn a lesson or two from Valentino for this, but he considered it nothing to the guilt in his heart if he had truly gotten you into the same rut he was in.

✯ However, when he'd visit your room, and actually find you there in your bed, he would rush to your side, thinking you had either overdosed or been hurt all this time.

✯ When he found you just lying in bed, not really paying attention to the world around you, but still breathing, he would be so relieved.

"Oh my fuck, babes, you scared the tits offa me!" He would gasp, putting his second hands on his hips, crossing the other two underneath his chest fluff. When you could only mumble a tired little, 'sorry', out, he dropped his arms down to his side and kneels on your floor, making sure you could see him. His ungloved set of hands came up and cupped your face, rubbing the soft skin of your cheek before he offered a smile. "Rough week, toots? Wanna tell me about it?"

✯ After the long, peaceful talk you two had, he lifted you up out of your bed and carried you off to the bathroom, vowing to get you back to squeaky clean!

[ haiiii!! hope this is what you asked for, and i hope you like it!!!! ]

|| note: ​🇮​​🇫​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇲​​🇾​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇹​​🇪​​🇳​​🇹​, ​🇧​​🇪​ ​🇸​​🇺​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇴​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇷​​🇪​​🇧​​🇱​​🇴​​🇬​!! <3 ||

#hazbin hotel #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #husker x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #angel dust x reader #husker #husk #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust hazbin hotel #rosemaryfollows

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 1

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: none — I’ll change it to E when we get there (slow burn, forced proximity, age gap — no age actually mentioned but rather more implied, competence kink)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…..

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @mourningbirds1 for the incredible feedback, beta, and comments. As always, I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you also to @write-and-buried for her TLOU knowledge and constant support, and @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reading this one over and making me confront how much Joel Miller has rotted my brain 😉 Enjoy!

—

SPRING

The copse of trees surrounding you is dense, and from the overgrown path you’ve been following by groove alone, you almost miss it. A flash of muted, dingy blue in a sea of green. 

“Hey,” you call to him. “What’s that?”

He turns, his features and body already taut with a practiced, ready tension and when he sees your face isn’t one of concern but rather curiosity, he relaxes. Walking over to you, he follows the line of your finger with his eyes. 

At first, he sees nothing. Just a wall of clustered vegetation: sturdy trunks that hide behind branches heavily weighted with rain, the floor beneath them obscured by ferns that brush against your legs and growth that softens your footsteps. His eyes catch on something too angular for the setting and he frowns, focusing on it. 

Barely visible in the distance and seen only through the filtered sunlight that catches the sharp edge: a moss covered roof. A structure, isolated like the two of you. 

He glances over at you for a moment, reflexively reaching back for his rifle. 

“Let’s take a look.”

Weapon out with his steps steady and slow, he approaches the cabin with a careful, defensive slink. As it slowly comes into view, you brace yourself for any type of movement. Second nature to now activate the constant thrum of self preservation inside you, you check for visible traps as you follow him, your eyes flitting between the building and the ground. 

A specific sort of tension fills the air when something is close: you know that feeling now, have become so sensitive that it can wake you from dead sleep the second you feel it. Like a sixth sense forced to emerge due to evolution, you focus on it and feel none of that tension here:  just the trilling sound of birds, the soft crunch of pine needles underfoot and the peaceful silence of total seclusion.

Joel catches your attention with the jerk of his head, motioning to stay close.

You approach the front of the cabin together. His hands white knuckle the gun, the butt tucked tight against the worn strap of his backpack where it curves around his shoulder and as his fingers flex in anticipation, you hold your breath. 

There is a weighted beat as you wrap your hand around the knob and turn. 

In the end, it’s all for nothing - the cabin you find, after roughly working the warped door open, is abandoned. 

–

It’s like a time capsule in the middle of the woods. 

A thick layer of dust covering everything, motes of it swirl lazily in the beam of Joel’s flashlight as you wander from room to room. His boots scrape against the floor with heavy footfalls, the two of you silently surveying the causally cozy and completely still disarray: a moth bitten handmade quilt thrown over the back of the couch, outdated magazines in a stack on the counter, cobwebbed toothbrushes by the bathroom sink. Bookshelves packed with faded spines, grime covered windows, dead plants in pretty pots lining sills. 

Someone loved this cabin once. 

Used to your partner through circumstance by now, you anticipate an order to scavenge for everything you can carry and then move on, so you’re surprised when he sets his pack down on the floor and lets himself fall back onto the couch. A cloud of dust bursts into the stagnant air, his hands coming up to wearily scrub his face. They rake through his damp, messy curls as he closes his eyes before laying his head back and letting out an exhausted sigh. 

“This should do for the night,” he says. “Could stay until the rain lets up, at least. Be nice to sleep on something other than the ground for a change.”

You nod in agreement, rolling out the kink in your shoulder you woke up with. Your eyes drift over the exposed line of his tanned throat, lingering on the hollow just above his collar. You force yourself to look away. “Yea, the beds didn’t look too bad.”

There had been two of them, across the hall from each other and the idea of a mattress - no matter how old - had you yearning to climb into bed already. Nothing saying you can’t, you reason with yourself. Not when time is more of a concept than anything else these days but the gnawing hunger in your stomach immediately disagrees, knowing exactly how long it’s been since you’ve last eaten. 

“I’m gonna go look for some food,” you tell him and he hums in acknowledgement, seemingly indifferent. 

Not really expecting to find anything of substance, you feel a swoop of scarce felt joy when you discover a cache of canned goods in the pantry. A treasure trove. 

“Hey Joel,” you call, wiping your thumb over a peeled, dried out label. “I think I found dinner.”

He doesn’t answer, most likely asleep given his ability to succumb whenever and wherever he can when he gets a moment and you take several, bringing them over to the counter. Brushing away the dust that sticks to the labels, you survey your choices: baked beans and peaches, two of each. Just what you would expect at a lake house. 

Letting him rest and holding the beans in your hand and a spoon you find in another, you take bites straight from the can as you wander down the hallway of the cabin, looking at the pictures on the walls. Using the heel of your hand to wipe away the dust that covers the glass, smiling faces emerge from the fog. You study them one by one, slowly chewing. 

They look like stock photos you used to see in stores: generically bland smiles, posed to perfection. An elderly couple with their children of various ages, a large family gathering photo, parents with children sitting between them. You try hard to picture those people here: sitting in the living room, sleeping in the bedrooms, playing outside. The concept seems too foreign to grasp, too far away to be real and you take another bite of food, pushing away the sudden unbidden reminder of similar photos you once had in your own home, now lost. 

You hear the couch protest as Joel gets up, coming to pass you in the hallway. He stops for a moment behind you, looking to see what you’re staring at and when he sees what it is, he frowns. Letting a deep sigh escape him, he keeps moving down the narrow space and with his pack in his hand, disappears into a bedroom. 

–

Wanting the safety of his nearness and given that it’s the only other bedroom, you set up across the hall when you’re done eating. Placing your own worn pack on the floor, you start to methodically strip the mattress, shaking out the bedding. Minimal creeping mold darkens the seamed edge of a mattress in otherwise good condition and you flip it, hoping for the best. Shaking out the pillow to make sure there is nothing hiding in it, you take the pillowcase with you, wanting to air it out on the deck now that the rain has stopped. 

Wanting to do the same for him, you walk into the bedroom he’s claimed and even though he’s not in there, it already feels like an invasion of privacy to be standing in it. His pack slumped on the end of the bed a visual claim, you grab his pillow off the bed and start to tug off the case. 

What does he look like, sleeping in a real bed? Does he bunch the pillow or tangle himself in the quilt? When he gets up, is there a rumpled form left behind, still warm with the heat of his body pressed into the sheets?

For all the time you’ve spent with him, the majority of Joel is a mystery to you. He gives away more than he knows, but that’s still not a lot. You knew of him back in the QZ: his broad frame a hard one to miss, his reputation even bigger and while your paths rarely crossed within the borders of those high walls, once you set out, it was hard to stay out of his orbit. 

His handsomeness drew your eye initially, but it was his usefulness that made you stay in his shadow. His determination to fight for his own made you feel protected by proximity, even more so when he extended it to you. 

Had to, once your group got picked off one by one. 

You had been thankful, in a sick way, that he was the one that remained. The best one. The most ruthless one. A ruthlessness you admired, then revered, then thought about at night as you tried to drift off to sleep. 

Without needing to sleep clothed to protect himself from the elements, does he still sleep in them, or will he be in less? If so, how much less?

Sharply snapping the pillowcase in the air, the sound brings you back to the present and you shake away the thoughts, leaving the room. 

“Whatcha got there?” He’s sitting on the couch, a can of peaches in his hand and when you face him, you have to look away from the glistening juice on his lips. 

“Oh, I was going to hang these outside, see if I can get some of the dust smell out.” Your nose crinkles and he smirks, taking another bite and shaking his head. 

“Thought you’d be used to that by now.”

You shrug, taking a seat in a chair by the woodstove. Leaning forward to inspect it, your chair wobbles; the front leg rotted. 

He nudges his chin in the direction of the stove when you open its door. “I thought about lighting it, but we better not. Don’t want the smoke showin’ people someone’s here.”

You nod, sitting back in the chair. “I can’t believe what a good find this is. There’s all sorts of stuff. I found some clothes in the closets, some more blankets too, if you need one.” 

You watch him chew, his jaw flexing under the salt and pepper of his beard.

“There is more food where that came from, if you’re hungry. The pantry is pretty full.”

He acknowledges it with a nod, taking another bite and you glance towards the windows that run the length of the room. A miracle none of them are broken, thanks to the secured tarp that lined the outside. 

“I think I’m gonna clean some of these and see if I can get a better view.”

“Cleanin’ the windows, doin’ the laundry. You lookin’ to move in?” His teasing tone is a dry one, and you smile, shrugging.

“Just so we can see what’s out there. In case someone comes.”

He looks at you, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he finishes the can, drinking the juice. 

“Well don’t wear yourself out too much,” he says, standing with a soft grunt of pain. “We ain’t gonna be here that long. Not worth makin’ it all homey.”

He sets the can down on the counter, grabbing his bow and supplies off the surface. You watch him check his stock of arrows before reaching back to feel for the knife strapped to his belt.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find us something for dinner.” He gives you a look, his eyes quickly sliding down over your form and then back up. “Yell if you need me, okay? I’ll stay close.”

You nod, holding his eyes for a minute and when he goes, you use the pads of your fingers to wipe clean a clear circle on the window. 

A creek lines the edge of the property, one that you didn’t even hear from the path with how thick the vegetation is and you watch him walk down along the edge of it for a moment, his head bowed. His hair is lighter in the sun, ruffling slightly in the wind and you keep watching until his form disappears behind the trees. 

–

Searching the cabinets methodically for anything of use while he’s gone, you find them buried deep in a junk drawer, sealed inside a faded, dirty ziplock. 

Seed packets. A lot of them. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself, opening the plastic pouch. You handle each pack delicately, spreading them neatly and carefully out on the counter and marvel silently at the whole vegetable garden you’ve found in this tiny bag. The haul would be worth more than you can imagine back at the QZ, but the potential for it is even higher here, in this dim kitchen, with that patch of moist, fertile soil outside. 

You pick them up one at a time, sorting them by recommended growth timelines and a thought takes root in your mind; the paper packets eventually gathered and put neatly back into the bag. 

You let it stew the rest of the afternoon, into the evening. As the sky dims, then darkens, as he comes back with a skinned rabbit and cooks it, as you both sit in the living room after dinner, your dirty plates resting on the coffee table between you. 

He’s sprawled on the couch, his arm behind his head with his thighs spread wide and the denim around his thighs is molded tight; his other hand resting limply against the inside of his thigh. When his eyes close, your eyes drop from his face to his hand, and then back up again. 

“So I found something today,” you begin, and he answers with a slow drawl, content and full. 

“Oh yea? Anything good?”

“Really good. Like, something really, really good.”

He opens his eyes then, looking over at you with a tilt of his head. 

“Well? You gonna tell me what it is?”

You draw one of the packets from your pocket, holding it in your hand and he sits up immediately, leaning forward on his elbows to reach for it. 

“Careful,” you warn, scared some will leak out of the thin, dried out paper. 

“You found these here?”

“Yea, in a drawer. In the kitchen.”

You can tell by the way he is looking at them that he knows their value. His hands hold them more tenderly than you thought his hands capable of, and he flips the packet over, reading the front. 

“I would kill for a fresh squash right now,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything, as he studies the front. 

“Well…” you start, suddenly unsure of your idea when he brings his eyes back up to your face. It’s intimidating when he looks directly at you normally, but you feel it tenfold now. He’s always been the one to call the shots, his experience in this world outweighing yours and while you’re nervous to throw yours out there, thinking of the alternatives nudges you forward.  

“I was sort of thinking this afternoon. About this place, and about these seeds.” You pause, looking away for a moment and then back at him. “About us, maybe staying here.”

He immediately frowns, scoffing to discourage the idea. “You can’t be serious. Stay here?”

Though you expected it, his immediate dismissive tone flares annoyance in you. 

“Where else is there to go, Joel?” you ask, your voice gaining confidence. “Be serious. Every settlement has been a nightmare, every place we’ve tried —“

He shakes his head, cutting your argument off. “I said we could stay for a night, not stay forever goddamnit. We’re like sitting ducks out here, just waitin’ to get killed. In the middle of fuckin’ no where —“

“Exactly!” you say louder, before bringing your voice down. “Exactly. We didn’t even see this place from the road. Not even from the path off the road. Who is going to find us here? No one knows about this place, or else it would have been looted ages ago. The tarps hid it, the trees block it, the –”

“And then what, huh? The second we light that wood stove, it’s gonna give us away. Even so, what then when someone wandering down that path sees the same thing we saw, and they decide to come take a look for themselves? They are gonna see everything we have – everything you’re suggesting we start – and they are gonna kill us for it.”

He pauses, the next statement forcing you to look at the ground. “Just like we would have done if we found someone else here. Just like we do.” 

You say nothing, letting the words hang in the air. 

“Just —“ you pause, looking down at your hands. Flashes of the last few months play back in your mind: the hangings, the strict enforcement of rules for all made to benefit the few, the bleak apartment you live in. This mission, all the things you’ve seen along the way, all the fear and terror you’ve felt and how the only person who has ever made you feel safe since the Outbreak began is sitting right here in this room. 

If ever this could work, it would only work with him. 

You bring your eyes back to him, pleading. “Aren’t you tired of it? So restless, always fighting against everything. For everything you have. Aren’t you sick of it, Joel?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just fine.” His tone is clipped, but you can tell he’s thinking. He glances at his watch, the broken face staring back at him. It’s been broken for as long as you’ve known him, but he’s always treated it as carefully as his weapons, his supplies. You can see him illuminated by the moon profile in your mind, his fingers skating around the face as he kept watch, or brushing it with his thumb to delicately keep the dirt off. Seeing your opening, you take it. 

“I’m not saying forever,” you press. “Hell, I’m not even saying a month. But let’s just stop for a second. Let’s… just stop. Nothing says we have to go back there. We could be dead, for all they know.”

He brings his attention back to you and placing his hands in his pockets, he straightens his spine. “Probably will be, sooner or later, if we stay here.” He looks you directly in the eye, holding your gaze. “It’s not just the supplies they’ll take. They’ll want way more than that.”

You raise your chin, ignoring the tightening of fear in your chest. He hasn’t let that happen yet, and even if it's foolish to believe, you know he won’t let it happen. When he sees you’re not going to answer, he sighs. 

The lantern is bright between you, illuminating the room in a soft glow and his deep brown eyes study you. His expression is stern, like he wants to say no…but he doesn’t. 

“It’s a dumb idea.” His statement is said with resignation, but with the authority of the last word and deciding not to push it any further tonight, you stand. 

“Well, good thing it was just an idea.” Glancing over at the seed packet, you chew your bottom lip while he watches your face with a frown and your voice gets softer, quieter. 

“I’m gonna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

—

He isn’t there when you wake up, and finding his bow gone, you know he’s out hunting again. 

You wander over to the coffee table to pick up the packet of seeds you left there last night when you see a book facedown next to it. Like he was reading something he found on the shelves after you went to bed, and left it there. 

Picking it up and turning it over in your hands, a smile unfurls at the edge of your mouth and you sit down on the couch, opening it to the first page:

The Basics of Gardening

#joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[amsznn]

heyy i love your writing! idk if this is where you take requests or not or if you do requests but i have a kinda specific one? could you do one with matt where y/n has her own small, cozy home, and she and matt kinda unspokenly like each other and hang out alone all the time? like they're super close and flirt low key all the time in small, sweet ways, and they're "just friends" but could definitely be found watching a scary movie alone together in her super cozy room *sorta* cuddling? going on late night drives together and talking for hours?? that kinda relationship! like id just LOVEE for you to write about a breezy fall night, her bedroom windows open, fall scented candles in her room, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a scary movie kinda cuddled up with matt under thick blankets? but they obviously like each other a lot and he's the first one to tell her and share really cute kisses??? you know?? like matt can't fully focus on the movie because his heart is beating out of his chest with super cute feelings for y/n. just lots of fluff, cozy fall vibes, nothing super cringey! i hope i got the very specific vibe across haha!

CAN WE BE MORE? - m. sturniolo ⋆⭒˚.

A/N: TYSM for this request, its soo good and hopefully you enjoy reading my take on it!

-

no one was more excited for fall like you and your best friend matt were. in your eyes, fall was when you thrived the most. with the nice breeze, to the crunch of the leaves under your converse as you make yourself up your driveway, nothing could compare.

opening up the door to your small apartment, you immediately felt at ease. quickly kicking off your shoes, you made your way to your living room that was sorta a mess from yesterday’s activities. the triplets came over to bake cookies with you, but chris ended up crashing on the couch. it was no big deal though, you loved the triplets. maybe sometimes you had a little more love for one.

snapping out of your thoughts, you checked your phone to see the time. 5:30. the triplets would be coming over once again so you could have your anual scary movie session.

the day went on with you cleaning every crevasse of your house, of course knowing it would go back to it’s horrid state after the boys got there. then you made your way to your room, looking around to see if anything was out of place. you noticed that matt’s blanket was hanging off your bed so you made way to grab it. matt sometimes liked sleeping over to get away from all the chaos. it was normal for your friendship with him. nothing ever really happened though.

although you loved all three of them, you couldn’t help but wish for some more alone time with matt. maybe it was selfish but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded ten times faster whenever he was around, or when he would sneak glances at you thinking you weren’t looking. maybe it was all in your head, you thought to yourself.

the time was now 6:20, and the sun had already fully set, which made for a cozy environment in your house with the lights dimmed, and pumpkin scented candles flickering. you also made a mental note to check on the cookies you put under the oven.

a few minutes later you heard your front door start to open. it didn’t alarm you since the triplets had an extra key. well, matt had an extra key. “y/n?” you heard a familiar voice call out from the hallway. you couldn’t hide your excited expression as you made your way towards the voice.

you expected to be bombarded by nick, and chris as well but nope, it was only matt. “hey, where are your brothers?” you asked, taking the bag of snacks out of his hands.

shuffling to take his shoes off matt says, “well, i thought it’d be better if it was just us.” you blinked for a couple of moments before smiling. “sure why not, maybe we can actually finish the movie this time.” you chuckled, before making your way to the kitchen, with matt following closely behind you.

he sighed when he smelled the aroma of the cookies surrounding the area. he always secretly loved coming over alone. he liked spending time with just you. of course you guys hang out occasionally like going to random food places together, or heading to the thrift store, but something was different when just hanging out at your house. over the years it’s become like a safe place for matt where he can escape from the world for a little bit. you were his escape. except how does he tell you that?

he watched as you opened the oven to take the cookies out, forgetting about oven mitts, and heat. “hot! hot! hot!” you shouted but refusing to drop your cookies on the floor. matt quickly made his way to you with and oven mitt and placed the cookies on the counter before turning to you. “are you okay??” he asked while gently taking your hands to inspect your burns.

it was nothing fatal, nothing cold water and vaseline couldn’t fix. he led you to the sink and held your hand under the cold water. “stay right here, okay? i’ll go get some vaseline.” matt knew his way around your house like the back of his hand, so he came back with the vaseline in no time. taking your hand out of the water, he gently dried it with a towel, before applying the vaseline to it.

you scrunched your face up at the uncomfortable contact which matt seemed to notice. “i know, i know, but this is what happens when you forget the fucking oven mitt”

you couldnt help but laugh. “hey, i just wanted my cookies.” matt softly smiled before letting your hand go. you both stood there for what seemed like an eternity just staring at each other. until you realized the oven was still on. (id burn the house down yall)

-

after that whole fiasco, you and matt ended up settling down on the couch to watch your favorite scary movie. there wasn’t a lot of space between you two since you liked being close to matt whenever watching these movies. no matter who was there you subconsciously were always closer to him.

the movie started and you were bundled up in your blanket while matt’s arm rested on the couch behind you. although the movie was creepy, the smile on your face almost never left since you felt so secure with matt. eventually though, that smile faded away as a jumpscare popped up on your screen. causing you to jump closer into matt’s side.

on the other hand, matt was freaking out. and not because of the movie. sure you guys have cuddled before, but that doesn’t mean he never longed for more. or for it to more than just two friends being close. his eyes darted between you and the screen. he was sure you could hear the pounding of his chest. he gently removed his arm from the couch and wrapped it around your shoulder, making sure to watch your reaction, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

you sighed at the contact and rested your head on his chest further. if anyone walked in right now, they’d definitely think you were a couple. but unfortunately you were just two friends as of right now.

eventually the movie ended, but you and matt’s position on the couch didn’t. his arm was still around you, afraid that if he’d move just a little, you’d move away. you looked up at matt and found him staring right back at you. this made you shift up, to properly sit. “what?” you asked him.

matt’s mouth only opened and closed. desperately trying to find the right words. eventually he just sighed, letting everything out. “y/n, i know we’ve been friends for a while but i really cant keep ignoring my feelings like this.” matt shifted on the couch as you listened, worried that you did something wrong.

“i like you, or maybe love im not sure, but i do know that you mean so much to me, and just being friends is killing me.” matt paused for a moment to catch his breath from rambling so much. “i just want to be more.”

“you have no idea how much ive been wanting to hear that from you.” you softly laughed as you watched matt’s face soften. “i love you too, matt.”

matt only smiled as he brought you into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder. “can i kiss you?” he asks, close to a whisper. you nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck. matt smiled at this and leaned in, before his lips landed on yours. matt’s arms made their way down your body and landed on the sides of your waste, trying to pull you in closer.

it felt like your heart was going to explode at any moment with the way matt’s lips were moving against yours. he was gentle, but passionate. matt pecked your lips a couple of times before pulling back and holding you there.

“so, can i be your boyfriend?” he asks, bringing his hand up to caress your face.

“of course you can.”

-

A/N: i really hope this is what you meant / wanted. this was an amazing first request, i was literally smiling while reading it. If anything, message me if you want anything added or changed and leave some more requests!

also ty guys so so much for the love on my recenr works, its so crazy, love you all <3

#sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fluff #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

[reverie-starlight]

it's about time I wrote something for owl head. @luvring I blame you for launching me right back into my bokuto era. not sure how I feel about my characterization of him yet, but it's a work in progress. considering it's my first time writing him, I don't think it's too horrible!!

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. established relationship, fluff fluff fluff, he is such a baby omg. I just want to see him happy, he's so sunshiney and warm. slight, miniscule, microscopic suggestiveness in one part.

early mornings can get a bit hectic when your boyfriend spends the night.

they used to be worse, you will admit, but even if you've both established somewhat of a morning routine, actually putting the plan into motion always proves to be a difficult task.

hopefully things settle after he moves in, you think.

you take a few moments to bask in the early morning silence that follows the swift movements of shutting off of your alarm (it's far too cold out for birds to chirp outside your window, and your apartment's not too close to any busy streets) and admire the sweet man beside you. ever the deep sleeper, bokuto's snores pop you out of your bubble.

you check the time again and feel your face form an expression of pure disdain when it registers that you have less time to get ready than usual. you turn to the side.

he's facing away from you- an oddity, considering he usually has one hand on you at all times- broad back on display, expanding and deflating with every breath he takes.

it almost feels wrong to disrupt him, but you know he has to get up for practice soon anyway, so you attempt a softer wake up method.

you put out your hand and trace patterns over his skin. it's warm and soft and makes you want to cuddle up melt into him for the rest of time. knowing him, he wouldn't mind that one bit.

he barely stirs at the feeling of your fingertips, so you do get closer this time and press light kisses against his shoulder blade.

the back of his bicep.

the centre of his back.

a few along his spine.

the spot just behind his heart.

you watch as goosebumps follow your trail of kisses and smile as he shuffles and finally turns to face you.

"good morning, baby..." he yawns and gives you a sleepy, closed-eye smile.

it breaks your heart that you're going to have to cut this moment short, but it has to be done. you're already cutting it too close for comfort (last night's activities had forced you to set a later alarm). any longer in bed and you'd both be late for work.

you card a hand through his hair and match his expression. "good morning, koutarou. it's time to get up." you keep your voice low and sweet, hoping to keep him sleepy enough to just go along with whatever you say.

but it seems that fate is not on your side this morning.

he opens one eye just a crack and begins to nod before freezing and promptly burying his face into your chest. he wraps his arms around your torso, making you you groan a little. "I need to make up for not holding you while I was sleeping."

while the sentiment is sweet, you would think that him getting ready to move in with you would make up for it. but apparently not even the prospect of spending every night from now on in your arms is enough to satisfy him.

"ko, please," you huff and try to pry his arm off. you really don't want to be late for work. things have been picking up lately and you definitely don't want to be chewed out by your boss for poor time management.

but bokuto does not waver. he may be a big baby sometimes, and he may do everything in his power to make you happy, but he is also incredibly determined and annoyingly stubborn.

especially when it comes to sleep.

so he just holds you tighter, mumbling out little apologies for not keeping you warm during the night. you giggle at that, because you are nothing if not warm whenever he's around. his presence is akin to summer's sunshine- so genial and bright that you can feel his love even without the physical gestures he always insists upon.

you stroke his back and just as you're about to give in to him, a small, smug smile appears on his face.

"bokuto koutarou!" you gasp "you know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"

he laughs into your chest and you can feel it reverberate throughout your body. "just stay with me a bit longer, when was the last time you took a sick day, anyway?"

his voice is littered with drowsiness and it only makes you want to give into him even more.

how is it that you've always seen yourself as the clingy one in the relationship? the thought makes you laugh a bit and he looks up at you hopefully.

but sadly, one of you needs to have some self discipline, so you cup his face in your hands and squish his cheeks together. "nice try, lover boy, but you promised me you'd get up on time."

he pouts and you try not to crack a smile at how funny it looks with a squished face. "but baby-"

"nope! you brought this on yourself, ko. besides," you do let your smile break through this time. "you're the one who insisted on setting a later alarm." you poke his nose to punctuate your sentence.

"you're the one who insisted we'd have more than enough time to get ready." poke.

"and you're the one who kept begging to go round after round despite me telling you this would happen," poke.

you squeal a bit when he suddenly gets up to hover over you, a mischievous, almost predatory look in his eyes that can only mean no good. “sorry- who was the one begging, baby?”

he digs his fingers into your side, causing you to giggle and squirm underneath him. his other arm holds him up and cages you in just enough that you're unable to roll away to safety.

the thing with bokuto is that he can be incredibly playful and child-like, yes; but like most people on earth, he also has moments that remind you he's much more dynamic than the endearing traits he most often presents.

you'd consider yourself lucky to be one of the few to see every side of him, but as you lay underneath him with a giddy feeling in your stomach from how handsome he looks while tormenting you, you only feel your self-discipline melting away.

he might be rebranding himself as an "ordinary" ace now (much to the surprise of everyone who knew him in high school), but you've been convinced for years that there's nothing ordinary about him at all. his determination, skill and unconditional love for you proved your theory every day.

fine, maybe one "sick" day wouldn't hurt.

"okay, okay!" you gasp out through your laughter. "we can stay in bed if you stop tickling me!"

his smile is positively blinding as he retracts his hand from your side and flops back on top of you. "thank you, babe. can I tell you a secret?"

you raise an eyebrow and he takes that as signal to continue. he "lowers" his voice to a whisper-yell and says "I don't actually have practice today."

you blink at him. "ko, what?"

he lets out an excited laugh. "I tricked you. I came up with this whole plan to keep you home with me today and it worked."

the unmistakable pride in his voice washes away any annoyance building up within you and opens you up to hearing him out. "explain."

"you've been working so much lately, I can see how much it's wearing you out," he rolls onto his side to face you better and cup your face with one hand. "and last night practice got cancelled super suddenly 'cause coach got sick or something. so I decided we should both have the day off since we both work super hard. also... I didn't want to be lonely," he mumbles at the end.

you snort at his honesty and shake your head in appreciation. that's why he was being so insistent? how did you manage to land someone as unabashedly sweet and caring as him? you started the day worrying about being late, and now work is the last thing on your mind. you grab your phone off the night stand and quickly leave your boss a message, letting her know you won't be coming in because of some sudden illness.

bokuto watches you closely and allows you to cuddle into him with a smile after setting the device back down. "so... does this mean my master plan worked?"

you nodded into his bare chest and let the stress you've been storing for weeks release alongside a deep sigh. "can't leave my sweet boy feeling lonely, now can I?"

you say it as a joke, but you hope he hears the appreciation in your voice... that he can feel how thankful you are for him looking out for you.

it all remains unsaid for a while longer, but you know he understands the underlying message when he kisses your forehead and prompts you to get more sleep.

BONUS:

you wake up again a couple hours later to a strange burning smell.

you're up immediately, not registering the fact that your boyfriend is not beside you anymore until you stumble into the kitchen and see him standing at the stove, stirring away.

the domestic view makes you excited for all of your mornings going forward looking like this, but you also make a mental note to buy a new set of pans before that happens.

he must feel you watching him, because he turns to greet you with a wide grin. "mornin', baby!"

"morning..." you make your way to the table and take a seat where there's already a glass of water. "are you making breakfast?" you try to keep your nerves out of your voice. he's not the worst cook in the world, and he's definitely improved since meeting you, but... he's still working on lunch recipes. he hasn't graduated to complicated breakfast foods yet.

he nods excitedly. "yup! I already had some cereal, though. I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed, but since you're up we can sit at the table." bokuto turns the stove off and scrapes... whatever it is evenly onto a plate. "it's a bit burnt, but it should still be good!"

he sets it down in front of you and the burning smell only gets stronger. you can see now that he had attempted pancakes. you smile up at him thankfully, but you wonder how you're going to get the round discs down without creating an unnatural chemical reaction within your stomach.

"I know it's been a while since we've had a proper breakfast together like this, and you mentioned a while ago that you've been craving pancakes, so I thought today would be the perfect day for that."

you can almost feel your pupils dilate when he says that. your heart beats faster and you feel warm all over (again). he remembered something like that? you don't even remember saying it, which leads you to believe that he's been storing it in his mind for a while now.

you scarf down the pancakes.

they're not good by any means, but you know they were made with love and that makes them the best damn pancakes you've ever tasted. you'd rather endure a the worst stomach ache imaginable than make this man sad.

his eyes widen. "woah! you must've been really hungry, do you want me to make you more? as many as you want, just give me a number!"

you tear up a bit, from affection for him or a reaction to the pancakes, you're not sure. "no, baby, these were perfect. do you want some coffee?"

he nods his head. "I wouldn't mind one if you're offering."

you kiss his cheek and move over to the coffee machine, still overflowing with love, but the taste of the charred breakfast lingers on your tongue. as you're grabbing a mug, you casually ask "hey baby? would you ever want to take a cooking class with me?"

I lowkey hate how it turned out, but not enough to keep it in the drafts. hope you enjoyed!!

#bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader fluff #bokuto fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x gn reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

[itgirlgyu]

txt when they have explosive diarrhoea! *UNSERIOUS

۫ ִ ﹗🐡 𓏸 txt!ot5 . ⊹ ݁ 🗯  ⋆ WARNING!!! lots of shit talk again as it is still a normal part of life!!   THIS IS A JOKE!!! 𖤛REQUESTED!

CHOI YEONJUN.

too prideful for the diarrhoea pills.

hunched over with his legs cross while holding on to the wall for his dear life.

"It's a way of living."

sure it is yeonjun.

everyone already knows that he's suffering.

everyone can see how much yeonjun is clenching but they'd rather rejoice seeing the man in pain than help so it's like a fun time as he flails like a flag in the wind.

beomgyu purposefully occupies bathrooms so he has to suffer and wiggle and silently cry as he waits for him to come out

with taehyun recording yeonjun's entire ordeal

soobin walking around yeonjun while playing shitting noise on his bluetooth speakers.

it's a group venture at this point to mentally scar yeonjun for life

beomgyu only comes out when huening kai texts him that yeonjun had become blue in the face.

after yeonjun crawls into the bathroom at last

no one can enter that place anymore for like a week

it has been officially declared a biohazard zone.

yeonjun refuses to acknowledge that day.

CHOI SOOBIN.

the first thing after he is done shitting is slamming beomgyu's door open and accusing him of putting something in his take out.

beomgyu—"but i wasn't even there when you ate last!"

refuses to accept that he is suffering because had eaten spicy ramen last night which he hadn't been able to digest.

makes it everyone's problem that his ass is on fire but also refuses to go to the hospital because he is too embarrassed.

doesn't take pills because he thinks it can also heal on its own while huening kai has to help him by dragging him to the bathroom and stay outside for moral support with soobin checking every 4 second to make sure he's actually there

after taehyun forces the medicine down his throat, he's still complaining that the pain hasn't stopped within five seconds.

by the end of the night everyone has dark circles and messy hair from staying awake with soobin

with soobin finally crawling our of the bathroom like

"yes it's stopped coming out!"

while cradling the bump in his head from beomgyu's outburst and a punch

everyone cheered.

and then no one ever talked about that day again.

CHOI BEOMGYU.

brother just casually drops it in the conversation???

like we don't want the health state of your gut health beomgyu.

especially how much ton you think ended up shitting out.

will actively ruin any and every conversation with his near death experience with diarrhea.

"i almost shit my spleen out, that was such a scary event in my life."

meanwhile taehyun weighing the consequences of telling him that he can't shit his spleen out vs hear beomgyu try to argue that his butthole suction is that strong that he can ACTUALLY do it.

while yeonjun has his head out of the window to clear himself off the me talk traumatic flashes when he was at the apartment the day this had happened and he almost had to take beomgyu to the hospital while his dropping shit like a pigeon.

beomgyu has to be shut down manually because one more word and yeonjun would have flung himself down.

KANG TAEHYUN.

this man will DIE shitting before he let's you know that he also had his bouts with diarrhoea.

biggest hypocrite when it comes to shit talk because man wants to be in everyone's business like an overactive enthusiastic activist like there's nothing to be ashamed about YOUR GUT HEALTH! TAKE PROBIOTICS!!!

except when the matter becomes personal.

will not tell anyone that he's shitting thrice in half n hour and his stomache is feeling its being sucked out and his butt is on fire.

hyuka—oh why are you walking like that taehyun?

taehyun—i was twerking.

contrary to his own beliefs, doesn't take any medicines.

has his squabbles with diarrhoea until it gets better on its own

and then when his ass heals, gets back on his high horse

lies that he takes care of his diet so well that he never had diarrhoea ever

HUENING KAI.

okay he might not tell anyone because nobody asks him about it.

even when he's like running across the house until he becomes a blur to get inside the bathroom like his life depends on it

not a squeak from anyone.

sometimes when soobin would be occupying the bathroom, scrolling on his phone while huening scratching onto the door like

he's gonna explode anytime soon

beomgyu walking by like, " oh wow huening are you cosplaying a cat?"

comes out of the bathroom all sweaty with his bangs stuck to his forehead to the dance practice.

and yeonjun is like, "everyone should be as hardworking as huening."

even when his ordeal is all over

doesn't tell anyone how much he was suffering

when taehyun asks him how does he take care of his food intake that well

huening kai breaking the fourth wall and looking the camera like it's the office.

COPYRIGHTS RESERVED TO ITGIRLGYU 23'. FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! PERM' TAGLIST: @impureperhaps @full-sunnies @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @beoms-sugar @gyuletters

#txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt funny #txt crack #txt imagines #txt ot5 #txt x you #txt scenarios #txt x reader #soobin #yeonjun #taehyun #beomgyu #huening kai #soobin fluff #yeonjun fluff #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #soobin reactions #yeonjun reactions #beomgyu reactions #taehyun reactions #huening kai fluff #huening kai reactions #soobin x you #yeonjun x you #beomgyu x you #taehyun x you #huening kai x you #tomorrow x together crack

[brownsugarwrites]

Hold on.

Pairings: countryboy!kenshi x citygirl!black!reader

Warnings: cursing. smut. praise. vaginal sex. spitting. fingering. creampie. nipple play. reader has braids and nipple piercings. mentions of lingere. Pet names (sugar, baby, sunshine, babygirl, pretty girl, my wife). you and kenshi are newlyweds on yalls honeymoon!.

wc: 2.0

notes: Loved writing this. I hope you enjoy. If theres any warnings I miss please let me know. For your listening pleasure.

The crackles of the wooden fireplace could be heard throughout the quaint cabin as the aromas of the freshly made chilli could be smelled throughout.

It was always in the plan for you two to have a winter honeymoon and you were shocked it came so soon. But the wait was worth it. You spent some much needed time with your husband and even learning things about him you never knew.

When you two went snowboarding he was actually good at it. It made you jealous he was able to ride more of the intermediate slopes while you had to stay on the kiddie ones. 

Out of side hitting the slopes, most of you and Kenshi's time was spent hiking, exploring the woods, and going to the city to explore and eat. 

While you weren't complaining you missed your man in ways only he could statsify. You had brought this pink frilly lettuce trim lingerie set to wear for him since it was your honeymoon but by the time you got back from your activities each day, the two of you just wanted to shower and sleep.

But luckily for you the last day in the cabin was spent just relaxing and cuddling. The two of you watched the snowfall with a cup of hot chocolate and watched a few movies to pass the time.

Now that it was a little later into the night. The two of you migrated to the room with the floor-to-ceiling windows directly looking over the frozen lake which the moon reflected from as the warm lights from the lamp illuminated the room.

“Did you enjoy your time sugar?” his honey-thick accent rung out 

Looking into his eyes, you nodded before sitting on your knees.

“I did Ken. The scenery was so nice and all the delicious food! You chose a great spot” you said smiling

You watched as he put both his hands behind his head smiling at you. Closing your eyes gently you sighed trying to drown out the inappropriate thoughts about your newlywed husband before opening them up again. 

Quick flashes of the way he went down on you on your wedding night still had you captivated and had wanting for more.

But the winter season was so rough on him on the farm so your sex life wasn't like it was before the two of you got married. You let him focus on his crops and animals while you made sure to take care of him the best way you could. But the lingering touches and kisses really set your body on fire. You felt like a teenage girl experiencing touch for the first time. 

Coming on this trip you expected sex on top of sex. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. You were damned if you were going to let this last night go to waste.

“Something on your mind sweetheart?” Kenshi would ask seeing that you started to stare off into space.

“Yes actually,” you said eyes meeting his 

Gesturing for you to expand further you told him to wait on the bed and you’ll be right back. Going to your duffle bag you stuffed the lingerie set under your shirt before scurrying into the ensuite bathroom. 

Cocking an eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders before going back to his phone to check on some orders pertaining the farm. A couple of moments flew by and he wondered if you were ok in there.

“You ok in there baby girl?” he asked from the bed.

Becoming startled you quickly closed the top of your mascara and sounded back a yes telling him you’ll be out in a moment. You were nervous for some reason. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked but it's been a while since you've been intimate and this was your first time dressing up for him.

Your pierced nipples with the hearts on the barbells could be seen through the mesh of your top and so could the small wet patch seen from your underwear as well. You finished putting on your pink glittery lip gloss before adjusting the cute pink bow that held your knotless braids in a ponytail and fixing the pendant with your husbands initial on it.

“Baby I'm coming out,” you said peeking your head outside

“Ok I'm ready f’you” he said smiling while doing the come here motion with his fingers

“You have to close your eyes, Ken!!! It's a surprise,” you said excitedly 

Closing his eyes you made sure he wasn't looking before peeping over to the bed and going back to your previous position of sitting on your knees. As he felt the bed dip he got a whiff of that particular flower scent you loved.

“Open your eyes,” you said through small giggles 

Opening his brown eyes, he saw you sitting so pliantly in the skimpiest of clothing with the cutest smile on your pretty face as the diamonds of the necklace sparkled against your brown skin.

“ ‘s all for me, sweetheart?” he asked sitting up on the headboard and watching you as you nodded your head chewing on your glossed lip a little

“What for?” he asked before rubbing up and down your thigh that held the lacy bow garter. 

“You know… it's our honeymoon and I wanted to look pretty for you! Also because we haven't had sex in a while” you said mumbling the last part.

Giving a “hm” in satisfaction he played with the garter for a minute before snapping it against your thigh. Hissing at the sensation you playfully hit his chest before giggling.

“You too quiet,” you said meekly 

“Just enjoying the view sugar that's all,” he said grinning up at you before going back to rubbing your plush thighs 

Repositioning yourself back onto your knees Kenshi took notice of the sticky wet spot that clung onto your sheer panties. Smirking he looked up at your soft face before opening his mouth to speak. 

“You look so pretty in this lil get-up you have on” he teased moving his hands closer to your clothed cunt

Your cheeks burned as the compliment went towards your pulsing cunt. Giving a thank you he slotted his fingers into the inside of your thighs before giving it a squeeze. Without being told your thighs fell open exposing that wet spot on your panties.

Feeling his thumb stroke up and down you sighed squeezing your eyes shut 

“Tell me where you want me sugar,” he said continuing the teasing motion.

“Right there Ken please” you pleaded to him grinding yourself onto his hand

Flipping you over to your back his hands found purchase on your hips before moving your underwear to the side swiping his fingers up and down your silt

“Missed this s’much” he said pushing his fingers inside your warm cunt

Whimpering at the sensation your breath came out more of a hiccup as you squirmed under him. 

“You’re so good to me sweetheart. Getting all dolled up just f’me. Makes me feel like the luckiest man.” he expressed while putting pressure against your clit

“K-kenshi please bout to cum” you whined back arching off the bed 

“Cmon sweetheart let it out” he instructed you as you came undone from his fingers

Letting out a squeal your body went limp on the bed as you caught your breath

“Fuck” you rasped out breathless coming down from your orgasm 

This is what you wanted. What you craved for all those nights leading up to this honeymoon. Your plan was coming into fruition. 

Looking to where your husband was seen taking off his shirt revealing in the intricate tattooed arm sleeve that transformed to a chest piece. You smiled sweetly at your beloved husband as your head rested on the pillow.

You had to be some angel that fell from the sky. At least thats how he felt about you. He knew from the first date he wanted to make you his wife. Even with the stark differences of you being a city girl and him being a traditional country boy. 

He knew he wanted to take care/provide for you as long as you lived. He would do anything if it meant seeing you smile. He loved you more than anything.

Pulling you to the edge of the bed he hooked your plush thighs across his hips as you rested on the palm of your hands. Staring at you his eyes trailed to the diamond K pendant that stopped right before the valley of your breasts he placed a kiss to your collarbone leading up to shoulder eventually finding his way to your neck. Moaning softly you tilted your head in order to give him more access to you. 

Deciding to become bold with your words you told him what you wanted.

“Kenshi.. I need you to fuck me.. Please” you said feeling your self go crazy at the incessant teasing

Hearing those words fall from your glossed lips he groaned in response before yanking your thin panties off and quickly unbuckling his pants. Freeing his dick from its confines he held out his hand as he instructed you to spit on it before going back to stroke himself a few times.

Squirming at the sight you tried to pull him as close as you could so that he was close to your entrance. Bringing you into a kiss he gave himself a few more pumps before lining himself with your pussy and pushing in gently. 

“Oh shit” you whined little tears pricking at your eyes as your eyes squeezed shut

“Just focus on me sunshine, relax let me make you feel good” he cooed as his free hand came to your pierced nipple rolling it gently feeling your hips buck into him

“Thats it pretty girl. You can take it all right baby?” He asked pushing in further as you choked back a yes 

“I know you can babygirl. Such a good wife f’me isnt that right” he asked as you nodded your head in agreement

Bottoming out he quickly began to give you long and deep strokes as you moaned in his ear about how deep he was. One hand held you to him as plowed into you hearing your cries for more and your babbling. Your nails dug in his toned back as you came again for the second time with out warning. 

Not giving you much time to think he flipped you over onto your stomach placing a pillow under your lower stomach you tried to catch yourself from falling but quickly felt a pair of hands steady you as he pushed back in.

“Oh fuck, w-ait Kenshi please” you begged as tears fell from your eyes still sensitive from your prior orgasm.

Ignoring your cries he plowed into you watching the way your ass rippled everything time he pushed back into you. Your head rested on duvet as they caught your tears as your hands tried to push him away to slow him down. 

“Nun uh sweetheart you can handle it. Doing s’good for me just hold out for me” he said taking your hand and kissing the finger that held the wedding ring he put on your finger

Coming close to your orgasm again your cries became louder as you asked your husband to let you cum. Nearing his release he gave you the greenlight as he came with you cum filling up your pussy as it still clenched around his dick.

Pulling out gently he watched as his load seeped out of you before turning you back over to see you falling asleep

“Hey, sweetheart, wake up f’me gotta get you cleaned” he said placing soft kisses along your face to wake you up

“Need a few minutes ken. Please” you said in between breathes laced with sleepiness

Laughing at your fucked out state he gave you one more kiss before letting you rest. Watching your chest rise and fall as the soft light illuminated you 

“Thank you for being my wife. Thank you for everything” he said quietly as he ran his hand over your braids. 

#mortal kombat x black!reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x black reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi x reader #kenshi smut #kenshi x black reader #kenshi takashi x reader #kenshi takashi x black reader #video game x reader #video game smut #video game fanfic

[shalotttower]

Pholcus phalangioides

Title: Pholcus phalangioides

Fandom: The Collector (2009). Can be read as an original inspired by the source, because I took some creative liberties.

Summary: There's a spider in your bathroom, it lives under the mirror cabinet and you a) don't want to kill it, and b) are too scared to touch it, so now you can either keep giving it one side eye after another, or ask your neighbour for help.

Word count: 4000+

Characters: Asa Emory x Reader

Notes: yandere Asa, spiders and insects descriptions, stalking, voyeurism of sort - Asa watches Reader without her realizing it, kidnapping, vague hinting on body horror, non-con touching, Reader is socially awkward. Asa is not 100% in-movie-character Asa (he actually talks lol), a huge chunk of him is based on my headcanons.

You have this problem - a spider problem, to be precise. Not that it's too big of a deal, but...it also is.

Spiders are generally okay.

They eat unwanted guests, like flies and mosquitos or even other spiders. Make cool webs, which is probably one of the most complicated forms of art, not to mention a mathematical pattern to it - a combination of radial and circular symmetry. The golden ratio in nature.

In general they're important for keeping a backyard ecosystem nice and intact.

But.

But there is a spider in your bathroom, right under the sink cabinet, with thin legs, a long body, and of course - eyes. Quiet, kept to itself, really chill spider who doesn't move much except to crawl around a little and sometimes look at you when it catches you looking.

It probably lived in hiding somewhere, before deciding that dark spaces weren't up to its standards anymore and making an appearance. You haven't swatted it away, caught it, struck it with a paper - mostly because you're not good at killing living creatures, and secondly because the spider isn't doing any harm, just observing your every step, and generally being present.

When you check your makeup bag, it watches. When you brush your teeth, it watches. When you close the cabinet door it wiggles and your heart goes "ee" as if someone shocked it with a static charge. This yellowish-brown witness of your everyday activities, silently approving and judging, lately makes you feel like a nuisance in your own bathroom. You desperately wish there was a way to make it move to another corner. A less centralized one, less straight in your face. Yet the thought of touching it makes you cringe inwardly; your mind conjures images of different scenarios involving spider-related unpleasantries - accidentally squashing it, or getting bitten and dying a slow, miserable death.

It's gotta go.

Because the more you see it, the more your brain tries to assign it human features. And the longer it stares, the bigger the chance it might grow a pair of lips to say "get out of my bathroom".

The thought comes to you in the morning while setting a breakfast plate on the kitchen counter. The house is quiet, all windows are open and you stare through one of them at your neighbour's fence. You rarely see him, though the parked car is always a giveaway of his presence. Emory, that's what the mailbox says, and he has a neat garden, not an extravagant type, but everything is carefully trimmed and arranged into simple patterns.

There's even a stone bench by a small tree. Does it actually get used on sunny days? Probably no. He seems like a loner, from what you've seen so far: tall and pale, with wire-rimmed glasses and still grey eyes. Very focused and put together, a turtleneck and dark trousers kind of Mister. Never waving when passing by, though he does glance sometimes - sharp and attentive.

Once you caught him leaning over a bush with back straight and head hanging low. Your stomach gave this funny, nervous twitch, like when a stranger tries to start a conversation in public. He looked your way and then resumed whatever he was doing.

"Whatever" appeared to be something small, sharp limbs and a shiny body. It looked like a beetle, stretched to an absurd degree, and the way he held that thing felt strangely intimate. The same way you'd cradle a baby animal in your hands, rubbing its forehead with a fingertip. Emory put it in a plastic box, sealed it, and went into his house, not sparing you another glance.

This particular memory - of long fingers and a careful grasp - is what makes you think that maybe, possibly, theoretically, he could handle one pesky spider for you. You've seen him with insects a couple of times after, no doubt Mr. Emory is one of those who glue bugs to display boards. The creepy friend in the bathroom must be right up his alley then.

Five minutes later the two of you are staring at each other in awkward silence. Bothering barely acquainted neighbours isn't usually high on your list of priorities, especially if said neighbours look like they prefer being alone. You know it's odd, you know it probably crosses some boundaries, yet here you are.

With a crease on his brow and a tight mouth, Emory isn't thrilled at this sudden visit. Maybe he was in the middle of something, or is just uncomfortable with people invading his space. In any case, you clear your throat.

"Good morning. I live in the house across the road. The white porch? With-"

"I know," it's a dry reply. Not rude, more matter-of-factly; his eyes are fixed on you with a hint of unsettling peculiarity which makes you shift from one foot to the other.

He's not pest control, you think. Or obligated to help in any way. Emory can tell you to kindly fuck off right now and close the door, why did you even come here? It's stupid and intrusive. You're almost ready to take it all back and go home, pretend like nothing happened and just deal with that spider yourself, when he speaks again.

"What do you need?"

He has a quiet voice, a very even direct tone that doesn't encourage small talk, but prompts answers. Now and without pointless filling.

"I know how it's going to sound," you start, cringing inside, "and apologize in advance for bothering you, but I had an impression you collect...bugs."

"Insects. Arachnids."

"Right. So I was thinking if you'd mind removing a spider from my bathroom. I don't want to kill it, but I can't- I can't touch it."

His gaze slowly shifts from your face to the house behind you. As if Emory has an x-ray vision, or a complete mental map of your household layout. Ha, this would be ridiculous. There's no apparent disapproval in his pale face, but something else, a different kind of assessment. Evaluation of how much it is worth spending time on someone with an overgrown lawn? His eyes return back and you feel pinned down.

The longer he stays silent, the more you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole.

"If you can't I totally understand-"

"What kind of spider?"

It's your turn to stare. How are you supposed to know, you've never studied spider biology. It looks like any other common variety, except creepier because it refuses to leave its spot and stay in the sewer where it belongs. "I...light-brownish, with long legs. Thin? Slender," there's more you could add but any further description will probably make you sound like a total dunce who can't recognize basic arachnids. "Kind of big."

You expect a 'sure', maybe 'I'll be there shortly' or 'no'. What you get is Emory moving past you and walking up your front porch. The scent of laundry detergent and soap, very clean, hits your nose before you rush to open the door.

"Uhm. Second floor," you explain, awkwardly shuffling after him. For the first time since the day you moved in, you worry about what someone might see inside the house. As far as clutter goes, your place is acceptable, perhaps a few forgotten cups around and yesterday's sweater thrown on a couch. Surely, it's not too bad.

Emory, however, doesn't seem interested in the surroundings. The staircase doesn't even creak under his weight, despite the house being around a century old. He steps over the little border which always makes you trip if you walk too fast, like it's not there. Like the corner you often bump your hip into doesn't exist either. He navigates your home with effortless precision, an inward kind of certainty that makes your eyebrows rise. Maybe...the houses on your street have the same blueprint.

Either way, he walks into your bathroom without hesitation, turning on the light. You hover by the doorway, unsure: should you offer something to drink, ask him if he needs anything else or just step away and leave him to do his thing?

The spider is there, hiding under the cabinet, when Emory leans over to observe it. He's probably seen many different specimens, you think, and this isn't interesting at all compared to the ones who have an intricate design or unique behavior.

"She's a part of the Pholcidae family," Emory says suddenly. Just like that there's 'she', instead of 'it', and the spider twitches and shifts. "Daddy long-legs. Harmless."

He puts his palm up close to its back. At first, it seems startled, but after a moment slowly calms down, and moves a leg - left then right - getting familiar with his hand.

"Docile creatures," Emory continues, while the spider walks along the edge of his palm. No running around, no random leaps, stick-like limbs touch and probe him with curiosity, much like you'd study something new. "They stay in the dark, hide in the corners while feasting on smaller things. Your intruder is a useful tenant."

It makes you feel slightly nauseous, how nonchalant he is about holding something that prompts recoil on instinct.

"Do you want to hold her?" Emory turns to you and there's a faint, strange smile on his lips. It doesn't reach his eyes and makes him look like an alien who tries to mimic human expressions based only on observation. His pupils are so dark that you can barely tell the difference between the irises and the rest. They seem bottomless, absorbing all light, but reflecting none in return. You take one step backwards, shaking your head.

"I'll pass."

He keeps staring at you for what feels like forever before returning his attention to the spider crawling on his skin. Emory reaches into his back pocket for a small container.

"Are you not setting her outside?" You ask. "She...she doesn't look like, uh, a rare species."

Not that you're an expert.

"No," Emory closes the lid with a quiet click. "She isn't one. But I'm going to keep her."

And he does. The little captive spider rests at the very bottom of a plastic case when you send the man on his way and thank him for the help. Emory accepts it with a nod, no further words, and then there's only his back when he leaves. The morning air rushes in, crisp and fresh, smelling like grass, tree leaves and soil.

*

It feels like you blink, and three days go by. You still keep an eye on the bathroom cabinet by some sort of habit, however there's nothing out of the ordinary lurking there, no creepy critters and definitely no thin legs scattering in multiple directions. All is well, now you can brush your teeth, take care of business and even lean close without fear something might fall on your head.

It's just a spider. You googled it later, and how common it is around the continents should be a bit ridiculous. Keeping it might equal to going on a beach and picking the most unremarkable pebble you see; Emory certainly could find hundreds more Daddy long-legs wherever he pleased - parks, gardens or forests.

So...why?

The question gnaws at you, together with that smile and cold grey eyes hidden behind glasses' frames. The weirdest part wasn't the expression, it was how you couldn't read it. Despite the obvious display of human emotion, however misplaced and alien, it failed to reveal anything. The smile was there, and yet nothing broke through it, not amusement, nor politeness - or any kind of feeling whatsoever.

Your neighbour is odd.

Not necessarily scary, though there's a sense of mystery surrounding him, it makes you feel like standing next to an iceberg and only seeing its tip. Or you've just read far too many psychological thrillers and your imagination likes to conjure up the wildest scenarios, trying to turn each and every thing into something sinister.

Maybe you should just chill and get some tea, and stop being so dramatic about a guy who came over and politely removed a spider for you.

*

They're not a unique species. Not even remotely uncommon.

He taps the container gently with his index finger, making the spider move back and forth. She doesn't have venom, no poisonous chemicals to injure and kill. Hiding in abandoned corners she does, patient and careful, waiting to catch the wrong fly.

You're just like her. Nothing exciting. Not unique.

Your movement patterns are similar, concealed in a different package you're still predictable: getting home from work, cooking dinner, watching TV shows. Everyday routines.

Fear is a part of your nature. Awkwardness which comes with socializing: you shuffle when uncomfortable, avoid prolonged eye contact and don't like confrontation, he noticed this right away. A quiet type, keeping mostly to yourself unless you need something urgently; and then you rush, like a scared Daddy long legs. There's this shiftiness, an inner desire to be less visible, but also a yearning for recognition because the lack of it hurts. And he saw all those small things, catalogued them one by one, as you moved into his street and became a constant presence.

Asa has never thought about keeping something - someone - so mundane before. Never. He likes rare things, spectacular, and those collected in the basement, they all are, especially when he's finished with them. They're extraordinary, displayed under glass cases and preserved for eternity.

He doesn't collect common species. Daddy long-legs are abundant everywhere around him.

But.

There's the way you linger by the kitchen window during the morning routine, slowly sipping hot coffee. When your lips purse and eyes lose focus for a moment. Or how the corners of them wrinkle sometimes when you have a genuine, amused laugh. It's something like warmth. There's no label for the feeling - positive, negative or neutral, it just is, like one single, meaningless element in an ecosystem.

He shouldn't want someone so average.

And yet Asa watches from the corner of your living room, crouched on the floor by a plant.

You don't hear him, too invested in your personal bubble. Well, he had enough time to polish his craft and figure out how soundless he can be when moving through spaces, how much weight he needs to place onto soles to avoid creaking wood and floorboards.

It's interesting to see you interact with your environment, unaware of being watched. There's an invisible pattern behind each action, even if you think everything is randomized. The web you wove around yourself is cozy, and Asa follows its threads while you check the phone and frown at whatever notification pops up. He is considering. Contemplating this impulsive desire he has yet to identify.

Would it be worth it? Keeping you. Adding you to the collection and seeing what comes out of it, how far his usual approach might take him with you in the same conditions. You're just a face with features. So...ordinary. He wants to pick you apart and look inside to make sure it's not some strange sort of mimicry, camouflage of a different nature hiding something else entirely.

There's this vague idea how those features may feel when touched. He can recall them accurately, even when you've never stood too close. Asa watches quietly from his hiding place, memorizing a displeased mumble and then a frustrated gesture.

You seem so alive.

Those below who are frozen in time now were too, before Asa decided to give them a purpose and make something special and worthy of his attention. They were alive like you, but now they're something better.

What purpose you have remains to be seen.

Asa decides then.

A plain trunk is nestled in the corner behind a coat hanger, no fancy latch or keyhole needed, only an ordinary padlock. You'll fit in nicely, squeezed in the cramped space, it won't be the most comfortable experience, but it's not for long and then...then he can show you the room where others stayed before, and where you'll be next.

Asa looks around one last time: the front door is locked, blinds down, lights off - you get up from the couch and head upstairs, right on the dot. Your house is easy to navigate despite the darkness; Asa knows his way around it, having been here already more than once. A step after a step he follows the soft padding of your bare feet, and when the steps halt, he pulls out a cloth. It's a heavy kind of pleasure to be able to stand right behind and admire your nape, there's a strange sort of vulnerability to it.

Something raw and very exposed.

It takes only a few movements, he catches your yelp into one of his hands and holds it clasped tightly as you thrash. Your nails dig into the fabric of his turtleneck but fail to leave any marks. He's never tired of it, the initial fear of his specimens realizing that their secure habitats are ruined. He doesn't mind this fight for survival.

"Shh," Asa breathes into your ear. "Shh."

The struggle doesn't last long - you're not a fighter - and when your body goes limp, he picks you up. Your perfume is surprisingly light, a very sweet and pleasant aroma, not overwhelming at all like he'd expect it to be.

It's nice.

He puts you in the trunk, a boxy space barely big enough to fit you curled on the side, it's going to take around thirty minutes to reach the hotel and another three to put you in the right cell. You'll sleep the rest of the journey, which is fortunate for everyone. It's always easier to deal with a specimen if they're resting.

The lock clicks softly - it's time to go home.

*

Something runs down your cheek - a drop, a bead of sweat, a touch - and you blink, trying to make sense of it. The surroundings are unfamiliar, blurry shapes with undefined outlines that stretch and wobble before your eyes. Your jaw hurts, clenched so hard that teeth grind together, and it takes a conscious effort to relax.

Where...what?

The living room, a TV program, a soundless whisper that froze the hairs at your nape, then someone was behind you. You remember a sickly sweet smell, and after that nothing but a haze and the dark, and the sensation of being squeezed into a shape. Your legs feel numb, arms too, like you spent hours immobile in one position. Slowly the world sharpens back into focus, but instead of relief there's only dread.

You're in a room.

No bigger than a regular bathroom and void of any furniture beside a cot-like bed, a toilet in the corner and a sink. The walls are a bluish-gray with thin cracks, tiny fissures that create uneven lines from the ceiling all the way down to the floor.

And there's a man, observing you quietly through the thick glass.

You don't notice him immediately, too busy assessing your new location, and when you do the air feels heavier, difficult to move past your throat. He's wearing a mask. Black rubber or something, covering everything except his eyes. He presses two palms against the barrier separating you, the silence stretches into an eternity.

'Who are you? What do you want?' - these are kind of questions you should be asking, but they don't come out. You remain glued to the spot, counting the passing seconds by their painful tick-tock-tick-tocks. One minute turns into two, and he...just stares without moving a muscle in a beyond unnerving manner. Your gaze dips lower to check his clothes, perhaps find a pattern to identify this person later.

There's none. Everything is plain black, like a uniform made to be invisible - turtleneck, pants, even gloves and boots.

It seems that your silence somehow pleases him, because a few moments later he leaves without looking back.

You don't know how much time passes; there's not a window around, only a bare, stark bulb, yellowish in its brightness and casting unpleasant shadows all over the floor. Not a single sound. Traffic, voices of distant passersby or birds - all is absent and doesn't provide even a bit of understanding where the hell you are.

In the end, you...sit down on the bed and wait, because what else is there? Everything is eerily silent and very, very uncomfortable: this emptiness, the absence of noise, the endless ticking of an invisible clock. It's difficult not to cry, but you try your best, somehow it feels important to remain composed. There has to be a reason behind this. There must be one, and you repeat it over and over, like a mantra to soothe the nerves and present your mind with some semblance of logic: once you figure out what's going on, you'll figure out how to get out as well.

Pulling loose threads from your sleeve is poor entertainment, if anything, the strain of boredom and unease gradually grows into anxiety so sharp that you almost miss the sound of approaching footsteps.

He's back again, the masked stranger who stands in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. A pair of light grey eyes is a splash of different color, but they are blank. They watch with distant curiosity of an animal trainer monitoring a newborn cub. The comparison makes something ugly squirm inside you. A part of you wants to make a run for it, the other keeps yelling that it would be immensely stupid.

One, two, three, four steps he takes into your cell. Your back meets the wall, the chill coming from its solid surface cuts right through the layers of clothing. Five, six. He stops only when there's less than arm's reach between you, then leans to brush away loose strands of hair sticking to your temples. Your stomach goes taut. This scent. Laundry detergent mixed with soap. The turtleneck, grey eyes, very collected kind of Mister.

A sickly shiver of revulsion shoots down your spine, making you curl tighter into a ball. Emory cups your jaw with both hands - they're cold even through the gloves material. This is too close, an unwanted and unpleasant violation of boundaries, and yet he continues to examine your face, like you're some sort of an object he can handle however he pleases.

Your cheek gets a light pat. Any theories about his identity stay unvoiced, mostly because you fear the reaction they might prompt. Something tells you that screaming is a bad idea too. 'Be quiet,' an insistent whisper says deep inside your skull, 'be still.'

His thumbs press to the corners of your mouth. "Open," he orders, and you can't not, even though the whole thing sounds and feels bizarre. "Wider."

There's a quiet click. A flashlight, of those small ones you can easily hold in one hand, shines right into your eyes, making them water from the unexpected brightness. "Don't bite or I'll remove all of your teeth."

It's a simple threat, delivered with such a calm tone, there's no need for yelling when words are that clear and straightforward.

He inspects your mouth, the edges of teeth and gums, your inner cheeks, and you let him, clenching your fists. There's not much you can do, at least that's what you keep telling yourself to ease the heavy, sinking feeling of powerlessness. Your mind chants 'too close' on a loop, urging to wiggle away; you stay. It's unclear what exactly he's looking for - dental or oral diseases, a sore throat, cavities, or the lack of them?

It lasts forever until he straightens back up and puts the light away.

"Good," Emory states. There's another pat to your head before he turns around to leave. "No biting."

The door panel slides with a soft hum, locking shut. And the silence, and the waiting, and the mind numbing monotony is back again.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #the collector #the collector (2009) #asa emory #asa emory x reader #slasher fanfiction #slashers

[thefanficmonster]

hii could i request a Seth Borden x gn!reader where the readers been teasing him abt being scared while they’re filming a haunted video and then they comfort him when he gets genuinely scared?? TYY

Hi sweetheart! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy the fic <3

Lots of love, Vy 💌

Safety Blanket

Pairing: Seth Borden x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Ghostly activity, Paranormal Investigations

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" I mentally check out for a few seconds as Sam and Colby start filming the intro to their video as Seth and I idle around in the background. "Today, we'll be investigating one of the most brutal prisons in US history." Colby explains to the camera, turning to Sam to give him his cue.

"The Darkmont Correctional Facility in Huntsville, Alabama." The blond declares before turning off the. "We'll film the history segment inside, it's too windy out here. The audio will be a bitch to edit." He tells us, tilting his head to the entrance gates of the massive and downright terrifying building that has been abandoned for decades.

A shiver runs down my spine as I look up at it. Not so much out of fear, more so excitement. I was an urban explorer long before meeting and dating Seth, let alone Sam and Colby. I have a decent pile of trespassing charges under my belt but my adventures never included dabbling into the paranormal. It brings a whole new level of adrenaline to the table and it always makes for a remarkable experience, especially with these guys.

Seth, on the other hand, approaches the paranormal with much more skepticism and a ton more fear which I believe contradict one another - how can you be afraid of something you don't believe in? But alas, I don't fight him on it, I know it's pointless.

Messing with him, however, works like a charm.

I take my opportunity to do just that when I see him very visibly gulp as he takes in the exterior of the prison as we enter the courtyard past the giant metal gates the tour-guide left open for us.

"Someone's looking paler than usual." I poke his side with my finger, hitting a particularly ticklish spot that causes him to jump.

He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together, "Not at all, I've seen worse." He shrugs, feigning nonchalance with a simple shrug even though I can clearly see the goosebumps on his skin.

"Whatever you say, babe." I mock him with a pout, dragging him along with me, forcing some speed in his steps to catch up with the guys.

The interior is infinitely worse than the exterior. It's stonewall, concrete and metal wherever the eye can see - which isn't much considering how dark it is. No lights are on, the only visibility being provided by the daylight seeping in through the barred up windows. It's a pretty cloudy day so there's not much of said daylight to go around either.

In short, it's the perfect atmosphere.

That's only confirmed further when I feel Seth's hand tightening its hold on mine, seeking the comfort he's too prideful to actually ask for.

"Welcome, yall." A deep voice with a southern drawl catches our attention out of the blue, startling us. Well, some more than others considering I didn't fail to pick on Seth's little jump out of the corner of my eye. I can't help but laugh, causing him to blush.

The voice belongs to our tour-guide Alan. He greets us each individually before starting the tour, telling us the stories stemming from this place. Sam, Colby and I take turns holding the main camera, capturing different angles as we walk through the eerie halls and cells. Seth tried helping out as well but his hands are too unsteady to get any usable footage so he's just taken to carrying the bag with the equipment and holding my hand as if I'm the scared one.

As the tour comes to an end, Alan turns off the lights he had turned on at the beginning, wishes us luck and sets off on his way, saying he hopes to see us all alive and well in the morning. It's the cherry on top of the terror cake he'd made with the history of the place as well as visitor horror stories. He gave us further proof of the paranormal activity in the place with pictures and recordings that Seth discreetly avoided looking at for too long.

The early hours of the night are upon us at this point and we've switched over to flashlights and the camera light to guide ourselves around the premises. Sam and Colby excuse themselves to the so called 'taming dungeon' to film the history segment for the video.

I walk around, looking at the marks on the stone walls while Seth remains rigid and jumpy in the middle of the large space that used to be a lobby. When I stray down the hall, following a trail of what I hope is paint on the wall, he jogs to catch up, prompting a laugh from me.

"Don't worry, babe. I ain't going anywhere. You're alright. The ghosts aren't coming to get you....yet." I add the last part with a low whisper and a tickle to the back of his neck. I've come to realize that defocusing his attention from the fear factor and instead move it to our banter is the best course of action. He'll never admit he's scared, so the best I can do is try and actually make him forget he's scared.

"Shut up..." He laughs, tickling my side as a counter-attack. "You're the worst."

I grin up at him, "Oh you love it."

Something tells me it's gonna be a pretty long night.

* * * *

"Is it just me or is it freezing in here?" Seth speaks up as we migrate from one floor onto the next after a brief investigation with the flashlights and other equipment. The spirits are talkative but dodged properly answering any of the questions we asked. They actually appeared to be talking amongst themselves more than us but it was still informative.

"I think it's cause you're a little bitch." Colby, who's also been put on edge by the activity we've gotten so far, replies. He masks his own fear by messing with the rest of us and I respect that. I'm doing the same.

"Oh fuck you!" Seth laughs, lightly punching his arm, "Y/N back me up here!"

Sam and I have already begun setting up the flashlights and REM pod so I'm partially distracted when I turn my head to look at the two. I glance between them, Colby giving me a fast nod. "Yeah, whatever Colby said." I shrug, evoking two completely different reactions from them.

As soon as we start, we are basically told to leave. We try to get a few questions in to try and ease up the tension but the spirit's opinion doesn't change - he wants us gone. And I can't blame him, if I died in this horrible place the last thing I'd want is to talk about it.

With that last group investigation we reach the audience favorite - and Seth's most dreaded - part: the solo investigations.

A game of rock-paper-scissors decides the areas we'd be covering: Colby takes the attic, Seth is on the second floor, I get the ground floor and Sam takes the basement somewhat voluntarily - something I greatly admire. We each take a piece of equipment with us and we split up.

"Hey..." I take Seth's hand before he follows Colby up the stairs, "I'm just a flight of stairs away. If you get freaked out, just call out to me, I'll meet you at these stairs, ok?"

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and truthfully - I needed that. "I'll be ok, I hope. But the same goes for you. Anything happens, I'll be right down."

With a parting kiss, we each begin our investigations.

I, for some reason, chose the music box to be my piece of equipment. I've placed it at the beginning of the main hallway and take a seat in a fold up chair, turning on night vision on my camera.

"Here goes nothing. I'll be fine, I'm far more worried about Seth, he hasn't been handling the night very well..." just as I say that I hear a voice and my heart nearly drops in my ass. Turns out I haven't been handling it all too well either, considering Sam's faint voice was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to actually say something to the potential presence keeping me company at the moment. Just then, the music box whirrs to life, playing its creepy tune for a good couple of seconds, as if encouraging me. "Hi, are you here in the hall with me?"

The answer is almost immediate as the music box comes to life once more.

"Were you a prisoner here?" I ask once the tune has stopped playing. I get no answer so I try again, "A guard?"

There it is, I think as the music creepily bounces off the walls in the quiet space. Sam has walked to a different part of the basement because I can no longer hear him. It makes the situation much more eerie, makes me feel much more alone.

I throw out a few more questions with no outcome that can be considered content worthy so I begrudgingly decide to relocate to somewhere else on the floor. Just as I grab he music box to turn it off, I hear a huge crash from upstairs and a string of curses that quickly get louder, accompanied with footsteps approaching the staircase behind me.

I quickly flick on the camera light, illuminating Seth who gallops down the stairs with inhuman speed. I barely manage to catch him, placing my hands on his arms in order to slow him into a halt and stabilize him. He's shaking like a leaf, his eyes are wide and his face has reached a sickly shade of pale.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened?" I ask as I pull him into a hug, "Hey, you're ok, you're ok. Everything's ok."

I see Sam peep his head up from the staircase, coming up from the basement, alerted by the noise. "What's wrong?" He asks as he jogs over to us. Colby is nowhere to be found, clearly oblivious to what happened.

"I...oh fuck...." Seth mutters, his breathing still heavy, "I mean, I got what I asked for. I wanted a clear sign and a door slammed shut. It freaked me the fuck out." He explains, still extremely shaken up but a bit calmer as he clings to me.

"Ok, ok, well that's great." I see the conflict on Sam's face, balancing between excitement over the footage Seth captured and worry for his friend. "Are you alright? Take a breather, stay here. I'll go grab Colby and we'll do the Estes method when you're ready." He says calmingly, his gaze fixating on me for rational and coherent responses but all I can do is nod, my full focus is taken up by Seth.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Holy shit, that was insane, though." He manages to say, tapping Sam on the shoulder, "Go get Colby."

I lead my boyfriend over to the chair I was previously occupying and sit him down, crouching in front of him, "You captured something incredible back there, babe. You're incredible!" My hands rest on his knees as I too still am wrapping my brain around what happened just now. "Whoever was there with you can't hurt you. You're stronger than them and you have authority. Hey, they might like you, even! I barely got anything down here. The spirits must really like you to shut a whole ass door for you." I'm rambling, I'm aware, but it seems to be working since Seth is smiling now, some color having returned to his cheeks.

He lets out a chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair, "Well, I am the distant relative of a murderer. That's gotta count for something." He says, making me laugh.

"That's what I'm talking about." I smile up at him, my thumb drawing abstract patterns on his knee, relieved to see he's feeling better already.

"Thank you." He adds after a stretch of silence, "You're like my safety blanket." His hand cups my cheek, automatically prompting me to lean into his touch immediately.

"Happily, babe." I slowly rise up so I can lean in and meet him halfway.

Just as our lips are within a millimeter, we hear pure disbelief echo off the walls as two pairs of footsteps rush down the stairs. "A fucking door slammed shut?!!" Colby shouts breathlessly, causing us both to burst out laughing.

#seth borden #seth borden x reader #seth borden x you #seth borden fanfic #seth borden fanfiction #seth borden imagine #seth borden smut #sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #sam golbach x reader #colby brock x reader #sam golbach imagine #sam golbach fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock fanfic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #x reader #rpf #request

[kettl-ecorn]

o̶f̶f̶ ̶l̶i̶m̶i̶t̶s̶

! part two !

! part three !

a/n: finally, reader, we meet at last. this is my first bit of writing in a while, i started this intending for it to be a one shot but this will def end up having parts, if that's okay with you. ;)

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afab!reader

warnings: 18+ only, MDNI. rickxreader, dom!rick, smut, masturbation (f), degradation, dumbification (kinda), voyuer!rick (kinda), weed is mentioned

it was supposed to be a quick errand when he ran into you, interrupting an evening alone to yourself. it had been a year since you had your one night stand with Rick, and although you couldn't stop thinking about it, you didn't think you'd ever see him again. but here he is, standing in your bedroom like nothing ever happened.

you didn't know, however, that this isn't your Rick. but that didn't matter.

off limits | 1.7k words

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Rick was actually kind of glad that morty didn’t come this time. come on, you really need me for this? this- dumb like, errand? he had said, squinting at his grandfather’s figure in the dark of his room, it’s the middle of the night, rick- i, i have a test tomorrow. Rick, pissed off just enough to mumble a whatever before portaling out, ended up going alone, because he didn’t need morty. didn’t need anyone, he would repeat to himself alone in his garage, over and over and over. 

morty was right, however, about the excursion. it was a dumb errand. just a quick jump to a different universe- a universe with a Rick just careless enough to leave something valuable in the open. well, not the open, it was quite hidden- but after weeks of looking, rick finally obtained the coordinates.

it should have been an easy trip- there hasn’t been.. activity in this universe for about a year or so, which usually means its Rick had abandoned it, setting a fire and not giving enough of a shit to watch it burn.

but a world on fire isn’t what he walked into, it was your apartment.

he only needed a few seconds to adjust, having walked out of one home straight into another. he noticed the couch, the various blankets thrown throughout, the plush carpet underneath him. the beige walls covered in paintings, photos- he saw the bowl, smoked through to ash, on your coffee table. a huge difference to what he was expecting- some heavy guarded room or cave filled with traps, something predictable.

the portal closed and there was a silence, a heavy silence. the lamps around the room giving off a warm light were a nice compliment to the cold breeze from outside- one of your front windows is open. the welcoming atmosphere wouldn’t bother him as much if he didn’t know where he was, where he was supposed to look,

who was here.

but Rick doesn't have time to ponder as he checks his wrist, verifying the quiet beeping indicating that his treasure is close. a slight turn of a switch on his watch lights the room, turning into a grid highlighted by blue light. he turns in circles trying to find it, and then he spotted the small shape of the crystal, glowing green. there you are.

he followed the walls, striding through the small hallways until stopping before your room, his wrist’s impatient chirping growing louder. the door was cracked, he just had to push it open, had to grab this stupid little fucking crystal and go.

a small sound stopped him. a small, soft sound, muffled but audible. rick wasn’t stupid, he knew someone could and most likely would be here, most likely expecting him. he thought of a possible ambush before bringing his hands up against the door.

“uuhhh”

that he heard. still so soft but loud and clear to Rick. he moves dangerously close to the door, looking through the small sliver of view he could get. 

you were a beautiful sight. eyes glazed over, fighting from rolling back. one of your hands was gripping the sheets, knuckles white. he shifted slightly, finally being able to see your bottom half, and fuck, it was better than he expected. 

your legs were spread and bent at the knees and they rocked and twitched with your movements, you had started picking up the pace. your fingers now hungrily circling your clit, making sure to hit your favorite spots over and over again. 

you’ve had a hard time getting to sleep lately, the high you get from weed not really cutting it anymore so you’ve now turned to your last result. sometimes you thought about calling someone- anyone, to help get you off in the way you wanted. you’d find yourself scrolling through dating apps for hours, but you just couldn’t, you could never find what you wanted. you wanted him.

you thought about him now, thrusting your hips imagining him there, coaxing you to your orgasm. you remembered the things he said, how he said them

“look how fucking- you’re so fucking wet, i haven’t even touched you. so desperate to cum, huh?”

“you look so pathetic with my cock in your mouth. want- need you to rub that pussy and look at me.”

“if i let you cum i want to hear those pretty noises you got. you hear me? I need to- tell me you fucking heard me,”

you made those pretty noises for him now, head lolled to the side as you moaned, wishing he could hear you, tell you how pathetic you sounded. your eyes are shut tight, not wanting to see anything else but him and you’re getting so close, fingers and hips stuttering as you chase your peak.

Rick watched you as you came undone. your head falling back, mouth in that pretty ‘o’ shape as you moaned. so quiet, Rick wondered if you knew he was there, staying modest and quieting your moans. he thought about going in now, too quick to stop him and diving into your cunt. he imagines how sweet you taste, and feels his cock twitch in his pants. 

you’re coming down now. your fingers are slowing and you’re lowering your legs, catching your breath. wanting to stay in the euphoric feeling, you circle your clit again and you’re so sensitive you breathe through your teeth, “riiickkk..” you picture his smirk and his dark eyes as he’d stare down at you, bottoming out and watching you squirm around him. you want more, you slide your fingers down to your seeping hole and bring your wetness up, resuming your assault on your poor clit when-

“you called?”

you jumped, heart leaping to your throat at the sudden voice. you scrambled off the bed, eyes searching for something to cover your bottom half and your eyes fly up to meet with his.

you never thought you'd see him again, but there he was. just standing there, all normal like you didn’t just moan his name. the door was all the way open now, and you don’t know how long he’s been standing there. maybe you passed out at some point after you came, you thought, this is a dream.

Rick eyes you up and down, completely drinking you in. you squirm under his gaze. your throat dries up, you open your mouth to speak and nothing happens. He grins.

“i..- ha, i didn’t mean to scare ya, sweet thing.” his voice is low with arousal yet he tries to be sweet, genuine, “i’m here because i think you have something of mine.” he begins to stalk towards you, slowly, looking at his prey through low-lidded eyes. you can feel your stomach doing flips when you finally find your voice. 

“Rick? is that you? really?” air escapes as you hit the wall behind you, trying to back further away. it’s been a year, at least, since you’ve seen him. a year since he fucked you out, leaving you a trembling, drooling mess as he left with a simple “that was fun.” 

and the embarrassing thing was, that’s all it was. he had waited for you outside of your job, standing by your car as you came up and it was easy. easy for you to take him up on his offer for drinks, easy for you to bring him home, easy for you to let him fuck you raw. you were obsessed from the beginning, his scent enough to excite you, but when he fucked you it was like the world slowed. it was the best sex of your life and you couldn’t stop fucking thinking about it. 

Rick was close now, your eyes level with his chest and you swallow as you look up to meet his eyes. he licks his bottom lip and sighs, not being able to resist looking down at your bare legs, your thighs. “Yes, but not- not the one you’re thinking about, unfortunately.” 

“i don’t understand,” you whispered, still reeling from the shock of your intruder and also the waves of heat left over from your orgasm. you feel light headed, you just got up too fast, you think, and you find yourself leaning your palms into the bed, folding over slightly.

he chuckled and you could hear the tint of evil. “yeah, heh-haha, your pretty little brain couldn’t even fucking- wouldn’t understand,” his words sting and you want to stand and face him, but you feel his hand slip through your hair, intertwining his fingers with the nape of your neck. “but that’s okay, you don’t need to.”

he yanks you back, crying out as you follow his hand to ease the resistance against your scalp. he grips your waist with the other hand, pulling you flush and squeezing hard, intending to leave a mark. he puts his mouth to your ear and groans and you struggle against him. “i loved your little show, baby. was that- you did that all for me, huh?”

he knows you weren’t thinking of him, obviously, but he loved this shit- he’s shared partners with other Ricks before, passed them around like a hot commodity, if they’re good. but to find cute, innocent, ignorant ones like you? someone who doesn’t know about the infinites, doesn’t care about a different life other than the one she has. fears of the unknown always remaining fears. it turned him on to no end, and watching you squirm in his arms in response to his words made him groan and dig his face into the side of your neck.

your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you whimper against his hold, the hand in your hair now trailing down to your throat. he wraps his long fingers around it and gives it a squeeze, testing. when you can’t help but moan, he rewards you by tightening his grip, nearly cutting your air off completely. your head feels fuzzy and you squeeze your naked thighs together. you feel him chuckle and mumble, hearing things like poor thing and know what you need

he lets go of your poor hip to check his wrist, his tracker going wild to indicate he’s close, he’s right on top of it. to be honest, he had completely forgotten about his mission after seeing you, all cummed out moaning his name. but it started to click for him, and he harshly swiped your hair away to grab at your ear, quickly folding it over. it was hidden, but he knew where to look. a brand of your dimension number. you were owned. valuable. off limits. he couldn’t hold back his amusement,

this was perfect.

#off limits #rick sanchez x reader #x reader #rick and morty #rick sanchez #smut #rick x reader #dom!rick #afab!reader

[scarletwinterxx]

if life is a movie, you're the best part - na yuta imagine

helloooo- before anything, I SAW 127 LAST SUNDAY AND OH MY GOD I think Na Yuta bias wrecked me. I swear he caught my attention the whole night. His stage presence is on a whole another level.... that's why we're here right now.... so i hope you like this one! 💛

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It's currently way past midnight and Yuta just got in. Usually he would make sure to be home in time for dinner but tonight his schedule held him back. His home was quiet by the time he opened the door, assuming that you were already in bed.

So now he's heating up dinner in the microwave while reading the grocery list you stuck on the fridge door, smiling at the little drawings all around courtesy of your daughter.

He was too engrossed with reading that he didn't notice you coming down the stairs. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you spot your husband smiling at the piece of paper. You also spot the countdown on the microwave about to go off, quickly an quietly you trudge over to turn it off before the count down ends. Yuta having a little scare when he saw you,

"Baby, why are you awake?"

"Your son is kicking my bladder" you tell him, turning to face him and give him a hug. Yuta smiles, kissing the top of your head and hugging you as close as your pregnant tummy would allow him.

"The kids giving you a hard time?"

"Kaori had fun during soccer, she's an active kid. Her coach said she can play for the team next time if she keeps it up. She's only 7 and she's already a protege" you chuckle,

"That's my girl" Yuta says, "How about my boy, you two doing okay?" you feel his hand rest on your bump

"He thinks my inside is the soccer ball, I swear he's kicking in there. Damn you and your genes" you joke.

This made Yuta laugh, leaning down to capture your lips in his. Earlier he was really tired but now it's like he's re-energized. He wish he could spend all day with you and Kaori, but he got to go to work and provide.

It's not like he's being old fashioned and making you stay at home with the kids. Quite the opposite actually. Before you got pregnant with your second, you worked for a big fashion brand.

You were home until Kaori turned 1 then Yuta took the role of being the stay at home dad. And he loved every second of it, he loved being there whenever his little girl needed him.

But now Kaori's 7, your once little baby now a growing girl. The second pregnancy came as a surprise but both of you were very happy about it. This time though you're sick all the time during the first trimester. Then one time during the second trimester your tummy contracted and it gave the two of you slight scare but all is good now. So Yuta made you stay at home for the time being, for your and baby boy's safety.

"You should've woken me up" you tell him when the two of you broke apart

"I can heat my own dinner don't worry about it, you need to rest" he kisses you once more before stepping back to get his dinner from the microwave.

He sits on the bar stool by the kitchen while you pour drinks for the two of you.

"But I missed you, also Kaori was waiting for you she wanted to tell you all about her training today" you tell him, taking the seat beside him. He offers you a bite but you shake your head, not really hungry.

The two of you just talk quitely about how your day went, he cleans up after finishing his dinner while you wait for him.

After he's done he checks all the doors and windows downstairs before going back to you. Taking your hand and leading you upstairs.

"I'll go change and check on Kaori, you go to bed" he tells you.

He changes from his office clothes to his basketball shorts he loves wearing to sleep, leaving the shirt behind. He knows you love to cuddle him shirtless.

Yuta goes and opens his daughter's door, seeing the tuff of dark hair peaking from under the blankets. He smiles, whispering a quiet goodnight before shutting the door and making his way to your bedroom.

You're laying on your side, waiting for him. He shuts the door and the lights before sliding right beside you. Immediately you scoot over so you can hug his arm.

Before you can cuddle him fully, but since your bump is getting bigger and bigger everyday you can't really do that anymore. But he knows you can't sleep without hugging him or having any skin contact so he lets you do whatever you're currently comfortable with.

"Why don't I hug you instead?" he asks, just like he did last night. He already knows the answer but he tries anyways.

"Nooo, then you'll be the big spoon" you grumble. Nuzzling your face on his shoulder while he watches you lovingly.

"Why not? You love it when I'm the big spoon, you love it even better when I-" "Okay I'll stop you there, I like it when I'm not as big as a balloon. But your son is currently growing inside of me so let me be"

He giggles, the man giggles before leaning over to kiss you on the head before setlling back down on the bed.

"Whatever you want, my wife. Now go to sleep" he tells you. He feels you kiss his skin, then you're back to cuddling his arm. In your words that's an I-love-you. After being married for so long he already knows even without the words.

"I love you" he tells you then he's off to dream land too.

#tags #story #fic #nct #nct 127 #nct yuta #nakamoto yuta #na yuta #nct imagine #nct au #nct recommended #nct reads #nct one shot #nct fluff #yuta imagine #yuta oneshot #yuta fluff #yuta scenario #yuta au

[moonsgemini]

seeking arrangements - i

summary: Lola's sister is getting married and the best man happens to be her cheating ex. In a desperate attempt to impress her family and show her ex she’s moved on with a hot date Lola turns to the advice of coworker pointing her towards the direction of a male escort. Rafe Cameron was the perfect man to take to any event for just $8,000. Her family won’t suspect a thing and when the wedding’s over they’ll never see each other again. Right?

warnings: escort!rafe x oc, mentions of a cheating ex, escort talk ??, fluff I think

wc: 4.1k

an: I love the movie the wedding date so I wanted to write a series based off of the idea, I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it (:

series masterlist

Lola opened the door to her apartment shedding her rain coat and hanging it on her coat rack. The last of the May rain was really getting the best of her this year. She loved living in the city because it was walkable but she didn’t love it when it rained because she got soaked on her commute home. Her cat, Sailor, jumped down from the window sill of the living room and came to greet her rubbing her head against her legs purring lightly.

“Hi sweet girl, did you have a good day today?” Lola asked the black fluffy cat as she bent down and picked her up. Cradling her like a baby and kissing her face. Lola got lucky with a cuddly easy going cat. She felt like Sailor was her closest and most trusted friend.

She set Sailor down and walked over to her room with a content sigh. After changing into some comfy clothes and washing her makeup off she laid on her big grey couch. Her plans for the rest of the evening were to lay on her couch and get Chinese takeout, catch up on emails and watch her favorite show. Her favorite activities. After putting on friends as a little background noise she pulled her laptop out of her bag to check her emails. That’s when her memory of her morning at the office came back to her, her face flushed as she looked at the drafted email in front of her.

Rafe,

Hi my name is Lola and I’m in need of a date to a wedding. It’d be more than a date actually, I need a fake boyfriend in about two weeks for 5 days. It’ll be June 12th-17th in the Hamptons. My sister is getting married in the hamptons and my family is kind of nuts and obsessed with me getting a boyfriend. My ex boyfriend is also the best man in the wedding, and if it was like a regular break up it’d be fine but he cheated on me for over a year of our relationship so I want to show that I’ve moved on. I may seem desperate but I kind of am. Did I mention that I heard of you through a work friend whose cousin has a friend who hired you for some event. So if you’re interested please email me back and if you’re not then please forget I ever emailed you.

xx Lola

“oh God,” she muttered as she read it over. Did she sound desperate? maybe.

Eight months ago Lola’s sister Penny had called her squealing with excitement. She barely let Lola say hello before she was spilling the news about how her boyfriend, now fiancée, Harry had proposed to her. How he did it in the most romantic way while they were on vacation in Italy. It was hard for Lola to feel excited for her sister but she still put on an amazing act like always. All her life Penny had outshined and beat Lola in everything. She was the younger shining star that their mother put on a pedestal, little sister never did anything wrong. Penny won first place in science fairs, always got the boy, never had to try hard to get her dream job. It all seemed to come easy to her.

Three years ago Lola moved after graduating from college because she got an amazing job at a publishing office. She even got cute apartment and she felt like she was finally coming into her own. Penny came to the city when her and Harry were just friends to see him, of course seeing her sister wasn't her main priority. But she figured she’d kill two birds with one stone and invited Lola to dinner with them, where then Harry invited his best friend Thomas. They immediately hit it off and soon after he was her everything. She thought she’d be the first to get married, until two years into the relationship she found out the scum bag had been cheating on her for a year of the relationship. Lola was surprising him at work with lunch when this girl from his office crawled out from under his desk.

Ever since Penny had given her the news of the engagement she had face-timed or called Lola almost every week for the first few months whether it was about what flowers should be the center pieces or how many tiers should the cake be. Along with breaking the news that Thomas was going to be the best man, Penny just mentioned it in passing like it was no big deal. As if her sister's cheating ex wasn't going to be an important part of the wedding.

It was mentally exhausting but Lola couldn’t complain. It was her sister she had to help her and be there, she had to be a good big sister. Every time during those calls Penny would find a way to weasel in the question, “so do you have a date yet?” Lola hated that question. It was like Penny knew her sister couldn’t find a date. Every time Lola would say the same thing, “Not yet Pen.” Then she’d say, “I think Thomas is still bringing that girl from soho.” Almost as if she was trying to chip away at Lola’s finally mended heart. The last time Penny called about and asked that god forsaken question Lola blurted out a lie. “Actually yeah I-I’ve been seeing a guy for a few months but uh I didn’t want to invite him until I was sure about him.”

The lie came out almost too easy and she immediately regretted it. Where was she going to find a date. Especially someone who would want to spend 5 days with her crazy family. She had rested her head on her desk with a loud thud after she hung up the phone, catching the attention of Fiona.

“You good over there?” She asked peaking over at her coworker.

Lola lifted her head facing her, “I’m royally screwed.” She explained the situation to Fiona about the imaginary date she was taking.

“Who the hell am I going to find in a week,” Lola groaned tugging at her hair.

Fiona hummed in thought, “Okay you’re probably going to say no, but I may have a solution.”

Fiona explained how her cousin’s friend hired a male escort to go with her to a work party. The woman had been tired of going to work parties alone for the last few years and took matters into her own hands. The cousin’s friend had found him after he did a small anonymous segment in a magazine about male escorts. She knew the magazine’s editor and found the guy. Lola thought Fiona was crazy if she thought she would do that and immediately shut the idea down. But after some contemplation she timidly asked how she could get in contact with the guy, which led to the typing up of the email. She didn’t send it because she wasn’t sure if this would be a smart idea.

Lola read the drafted email over and over again, hovering the mouse over send. What could go wrong? A lot actually. Her whole family could find out and she’d be the laughing stock of the century. After that thought she definitely wasn’t going to send it. Maybe she could just go alone and tell her sister that her and mystery man broke up. As she was about to delete it Sailor jumped onto her lap and her fingers slipped and pressed down on send.

“Sailor! Fuck,” she gasped as she sat up, the cat getting off of her and standing on the ledge of the couch.

I guess there’s no turning back now, she thought to herself. She was honestly hoping he wouldn’t reply, but for some reason the rejection would make her feel worse.

-

Saturday’s were Lola’s favorite because she would go to her favorite deli and get a bagel, then head over to the farmers market. She had spent the whole night before refreshing her email with a glass of wine in hand waiting for Rafe’s reply

She was headed back home her shoulders carrying reusable bags filled with produce. Her favorite part of the day was over, but she couldn’t help but be anxious to get home and check her email. She hadn’t let herself check before she left the apartment or while she was at the market. It was 2pm now he has to have replied by now.

She made her way into her apartment unloaded the bags onto her kitchen counters before almost running to the living room where her laptop sat on the couch. Lola took a deep breath before opening her email, closing her eyes as her new messages loaded.

“Sailor this is your fault if he rejects me,” she muttered as the cat stared at her from the window sill. She looked back at her screen and the email with the subject title Hamptons Wedding staring at her. He had replied, her heart rate instantly picking up. She didn’t even know if this guy was good looking now that she thought about it. What if he ended up being some murderer? Before her racing mind took over she opened the email.

Lola,

It sounds like you’re in a sticky situation, so I’d like to help you out. Hopefully we can discuss all the details and the prices in person to get to know each other better. If you’re free this afternoon we can meet at Lucy’s in Manhattan at 6pm. Let me know if that works for you.

- Rafe

“Holy shit,” she gasped. Lola looked at the corner of her laptop at the time, 2:48pm.

Rafe,

That sounds great, I’ll see you then!

xx Lola

She quickly scrambled to her bathroom after sending her reply. It was her hair wash day and with about two and a half hours left to get ready she needed to start now.

As she was getting ready her mind was racing. What if he was ugly? But he did this for a living so she was sure that he had to be good looking. Hopefully not too out of her league or else how would her family believe her. How would Thomas believe her. What if Rafe thought she wasn’t pretty. Lola felt like she was getting ready for a blind date with the way she meticulously did her hair and winged her eyeliner. She had to keep reminding herself that this was just a business transaction, she didn’t need to impress him. Well maybe she did because he could totally reject her and turn down the idea.

When she was finally ready it was 5:21pm. She stared at herself in the mirror hoping her black dress and knitted cropped button up and boots looked good. She gave herself a small smile in the mirror and grabbed her bag. Kissing Sailor goodbye she headed out the door. The bar wasn’t too far from her apartment just a short 15 minute walk. She wore her headphones and listened to Taylor Swift trying to keep her mind elsewhere. Lola arrived to the bar and found a booth towards the back, she sat on the side facing the door so she could watch for her mystery man.

“Can you I get you anything to drink?” The waitress asked.

“Oh uh can I get a cosmo please,” Lola smiled politely. The waitress nodded and headed over to the bar.

Lola fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, eyes glued to the door. The door opened and a man walked through, probably just slightly taller than her with dark hair. Maybe this was him she thought as she sat up straighter, but he walked over to the other side of the bar greeting some other men who were already sat there. Her posture deflated a bit, maybe she was somehow being stood up. The waitress brought over her cosmo and she thanked her quietly. Taking a couple gulps to ease her nerves, almost finishing the whole drink.

The door to the bar opened once again and a tall man walked in. He was extremely handsome, chiseled features and dirty blonde hair. He was wearing a green button up and black jeans a silver chain around his neck. He stood at the front looking around until his eyes met Lola’s. He grinned and walked over to her. She couldn’t believe that this was Rafe, she felt like he was definitely out of her league.

“Hi, are you Lola?” Rafe asked even though he knew it was her. Her nervous demeanor and doe eyes definitely gave her away. His clients tended to have a certain anxious look to them, but she seemed different. She was also a lot younger than his usual clients, she seemed like she was his age but he was used to taking women in their 30s out. Rafe immediately thought she was pretty and he wondered how she couldn't find a real date to take.

“Hi yeah that’s uh me,” She smiled as she shook his outstretched hand. He sat down across from her and she really got a good look at him. He wasn’t just handsome he was hot. His eyes were blue and he had a bit of scruff as well as a bit of a mustache. His hair was parted down the middle his dirty blonde hair framing his face.

“So let’s talk business?” He asked breaking her out of her trance.

“Oh yeah, so I’ve never done anything like this ever. I just I really don’t want to go alone to this thing.”

He nodded, “Yeah that’s understandable, especially since you said your ex is the best man.” Rafe had been to a few weddings as a hired date but never one where his date was in the wedding party.

She raised her eyebrows and sighed, “Yeah just the icing on top of the cake. We were together for two years and I found him cheating on me with his coworker. I think he felt so guilty that he told me how he had been cheating on me for a year of our relationship because he felt like the spark had gone,” she laughed bitterly, “But the douche bag felt like faking it for a year with me would hurt less than a break up. I shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you.” She laughed cheek’s getting hot as she realized she’d told her tragic love story to some stranger.

“It’s fine, kind of what I’m here for. I’m sorry he treated you like that. No one deserves that. I'm also here to make sure he sees what he missed out on,” He smiled sincerely.

The waitress walked over, “Hi can I get you anything to drink?”

“Oh yeah can I just get a tequila soda,” he looked over at Lola’s empty glass, “and another one of whatever she’s having.”

“I’ll be right back with that,” she smiled.

“Before I give you a price or anything like that I just want to know a breakdown of the whole thing. I know you said five days in the Hamptons,” Rafe said folding his arms over the table. Lola couldn’t help but stare at his arms, it had been a while since she had been on a date so she couldn’t help but stare at the greek god in front of her.

Lola nodded, “Right, it’s five days and we’d be staying at my parents Hampton’s house. My dad’s a doctor and my mom is an interior designer, my mom is a bit of a nut,” she chuckled, “But uh there will be a cocktail party, rehearsal dinner, bachelorette and bachelor party, a couple of family barbecues, there’s this tradition where we all play baseball. Just a lot of events leading up to the actual wedding.”

Rafe was really fascinated by Lola, he could tell she was an anxious person. He could also tell she didn’t know exactly how beautiful she was and he had a feeling that may have something to do with her family.

“Sounds like pretty standard wedding stuff, I usually am just the date to the actual wedding but it all sounds fun,” he shrugged.

She shook her head, “You won’t be saying that after you have to hear my sister whine about every little thing and my mom hits on you after her sixth glass of wine.”

“I can handle drunk moms, I promise. For the five days it’d be $8,000. If you wanted to do any intimate stuff then that costs extra,” He couldn’t help the small smirk that formed on his lips. He knew that she was going to refuse the intimate stuff because she didn’t seem like the type but he kind of liked seeing her squirm.

“Oh no I’m good, I just don’t I won’t,” she stuttered with a flushed face, “I won’t need the extra.” Lola was a pretty good saver so the money wasn’t a problem for her, and as much as she hated to say it she was a bit of a trust fund kid.

He chuckled, “Okay, so you pay the day that we leave. We can get our story together now so that if any questions come up like how we met we can answer them.”

“Alright, so uh what’s our story?”

Rafe pursed his lips thinking for a second, “Uh we met here. You came in after work for a drink, I came up to you flirted and the rest is history. Our first date was at Romano’s and we’ve been together for six months?”

Lola nodded her head taking a sip of her new cosmo the waitress had just brought over, “What if they ask me about you? Like who you are what your job is?"

“I’m a real estate developer my company is Cameron Development. I have two sisters and I’m from North Carolina,” He took a sip of his drink. He didn’t know what he was giving her real details about his life but he felt like he could trust her. She had a warm aura to her that was pulling him in.

“How old you are? College? Favorite foods? Are you allergic to anything?” She asked nervously trying to get as much information as possible.

“Sweetheart they’re not gonna ask that much I promise,” he chuckled, “but I'm 25, I didn’t go to college my dad passed on the company to me. My favorite food is any pasta, I’m not allergic to anything. I also need to know some things about you, to make it fair.”

She sighed, “Right. Well I’m really boring. I'm 24 I grew up in New Jersey, I went to Syracuse and majored in english. I work at a publishing company and I have a cat named Sailor. I hate mushrooms and I’m allergic to bees.”

“Tell me more about your family,” He leaned back in his seat and she swore everything he did was just too attractive.

“So my sister, Penny, she’s the one getting married. She’s my younger and only sister. She’s always kinda been the golden child, her fiancée Harry is a nice guy despite who his friends are. My mom is nuts she prefers wine over water. My dad is the only one in my family who really sees me, he’s a great guy,” She smiled lightly, “Uh my cousin Tabitha is crazy but like the good kind, she’s always a good time I love her. Everyone else like my aunts and uncles are all kind of kooky.”

Rafe smirked, “Kooky eh? I think I can handle that. All seems like standard wedding guests.”

Lola started fidgeting with her rings, “I-I really can’t thank you enough for this. I’ve never done anything like this before. I just really hope we can convince people.”

“Lola you don’t have anything to worry about okay? I promise we’ll be convincing, I’m a professional remember. It’s my job to make you feel good about yourself and talk you up to your family,” He gave her a crooked smile, “Now I just need to hear more about this dick ex boyfriend.”

She pushed away the warm feeling in her stomach that rose when he said he was going to make her feel good, “Oh god. So uh he works in finance and he thinks he’s some big hot shot. When we broke up he immediately got with the girl he had been cheating on me with, I think he's actually taking her. He’s self obsessed and arrogant but I was too blind in love to see it. Someone had finally paid attention to me and I ate it up.”

“So definitely a grade A douche bag, we’ll make him jealous Lola.” Rafe reassured.

She nodded giving him a tight lipped smile. There had been a question itching at her to ask him, “so how did you start doing this?”

He laughed, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, everyone always does. I uh kind of needed money and this girl from my hometown paid me two hundred bucks to take her to a Christmas party because she didn’t want to go alone. It sort of spiraled from there, but this isn’t my only job.”

“What else do you do?” She tilted her head curiously. He really didn’t need her to be doing cute things like that.

“That’s top secret, I don’t want to give out too much of myself for business reasons,” That was sort of a white lie because Rafe had in-fact told her what else he did but she didn’t need to know that Cameron Development was real.

“That’s understandable.”

After talking a bit more to get all their ducks in a row they left the bar, Rafe paying for their drinks despite Lola’s refusal. She was beginning to feel confident that they’d be able to pull this off. It was almost 10pm now as they walked side by side.

“How far do you live?” He asked looking over at her.

“It’s a fifteen minute walk,” She said looking up at him. Now that they were walking side by side she could really see their height difference. He was so much taller and broader than her, she felt light headed just thinking about it. Thomas had only been slightly taller than her.

“Let me walk you, it’s late.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive sweetheart, I can’t let you walk home alone.” He smiled.

The walk was filled with small talk about Lola’s job and her cat. Rafe barely spoke about himself but she knew it was to keep himself as anonymous as possible. They reached her apartment a lot quicker than she’d liked. Not that she would actually admit that.

“This is me.”

“Alright well you have my number so text me any other details I need to know, I’ll be here to pick you up in about a week. I know you have some doubts and anxiousness about this whole situation so if you need some reassurance don’t be afraid to reach out to me, but I promise this will all be fine.” He smiled hoping to ease her nerves.

“Thank you Rafe, really. You have no idea how much this means to me.” She smiled.

“Just doing my job sweetheart.”

“I’ll see you in a weeks then, goodnight Rafe.” She said before walking up to her apartment with butterflies in her stomach at the pet name he had used.

“Night Lola,” He waved before walking off in the direction of his apartment.

Lola wasn’t really regretting accidentally sending that email anymore. She only slightly regretted it because she didn’t expect him to be so handsome and charming, she would easily get sucked in to something that wasn’t going to be real. But she’d do anything to not face her family and ex alone.

As Rafe walked home he couldn’t help but think about Lola. His clients were usually older women these days, he also didn’t take on as many as he used to. Lately taking random women out to Christmas parties, fourth of July barbecues, and weddings didn’t feel as good as it did when he was 20. When he got Lola’s email he felt himself drawn to her, she seemed sweet and truly hurting about something. She didn’t sound desperate in the way other women did, she sounded hopeful. Rafe knew he would be royally screwed if he didn’t get his head in the game.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x oc

[mundanities-and-camaraderies]

Executive Dysfunction Study Tips

(compiled by us, for us; not a comprehensive list by any means, just the ones that work well of our brain specifically)

dress in a Nice Outfit for the Aesthetic. Studying in slacks and a button-down or knit sweater or similar with a mug of tea has completely different vibes (and much more productive ones) than studying in pajamas, even if the clothes aren’t as comfortable. Besides, the faster we get work done, the faster we can change into Comfy Clothes and relax. 

in a similar vein, Beverage + Studying Music. Our go-to is corn tea and the LoZ ocarina of time soundtrack. lyrical music is fine for doing calculations, but for essays its instrumental only since the lyrics can fuck with the writing process. 

make that grid of everything you need to do from this post, with Check Boxes next to each thing for Checking Things Off (or you can cross them out if that's more satisfying). Also gives an order and instruction for Starting The Thing which is usually the hardest part.

Imitate School Environment with “periods”, AKA studying for 40 minutes with a 5-10 minute “passing period” in-between, in which getting up and walking around is required. do not do “fun stuff” (reading/YouTube/etc) during passing period, or getting brain back on task will be Hell. our brain works best with a clear structure. Also, Set Alarms.

SNACKS!! snacks that are crumb free and don’t disturb the working process are best. I like pumpkin seeds, smoked salmon, apple/pear/peach/etc slices, cheese, and similar. washed bowls of fruit (grapes, cherries, strawberries, etc) make my fingers wet every time I eat them which is inconvenient, and I can't eat most junk foods for allergy/health reasons (+ grease, cheese dust, etc are similarly impractical)

from this post, “make timelapses on your phone of u doing your work” providing the exact amount of Nervous Energy from being “watched” to be productive, without the anxiety of being criticized from having someone actually watch you. For an extra kick, actually post them to YT. 

have Separate Windows open for studying vs for fun stuff. I usually have three windows open on my laptop at all times – one for YT/reading (relaxing stuff), one for studying, and one for writing. 

set a Consistent Time To Work and Time To Stop Working, because brain stop working late at night when get tired, but brain also no work as soon as we get home from class, because we’re exhausted and need to take a break + eat first. 

in a similar vein, have a Work Time Ritual to get brain in the mood. Do the same thing every time its time to work so that you can pavlov yourself. For example, having a glass of water and and doing five jumping jacks, taking a shower, or getting changed into Studying Clothes. ADHD brain hates Transition Between Activities and also Starting Task so make it fun or relaxing. 

finally and most important!!!! sleep well, eat well, and when its time to stop working (NOT when work is done, but when its Time To Stop), take a break and do something relaxing. Work on hobby or lie in bed and read fanfiction. We don’t work past 10:00PM and we aren’t out of bed past 11:00PM. aint nothing going to get done if your body isn’t in a shape to get it done. As a system, sometimes we can see the body as a tool/instrument/machine separate from the mind/identity/personality, and you gotta keep that shit well-maintained or its gonna break down on you and you’ll have to take it to the repair shop. 

#ADHD #executive dysfunction #study tips #:) #jack #writing tag