#also helps if they’re middle aged

[slouchingwriter]

If they don’t start as rivals, don’t bicker over millennia and share at least one awkward kiss, I don’t want it

#good omens #gomens #aziraphale #crowley #go2 spoilers #red dwarf #Rimmer #lister #also helps if they’re middle aged #ineffable husbands #rimster

[synonymroll648]

headcanon that as sophie ages, she gets more and more off-put by how she still looks twenty at some age past 40. the only wrinkles she has are smile lines and a barely-there crease between her eyebrows that never leaves. no gray hairs. it doesn’t feel like there’s any physical evidence of how much stress aged her too fast.

(maybe she dyes more grays into her hair to feel better about her reflection, the more time passes by. maybe, on bad days, she contours wrinkles into her skin with makeup. maybe the bad days get more frequent as she ages outside the human lifespan. maybe.)

#i feel like fitz and dex are the only friends of hers that really get it #since fitz understands more surrounding human cultures than most elves thanks to his firsthand experience in the search #and dex grew up with his mom’s romcoms #which would probably show some human perspectives on aging #and his mom explaining some things that didn’t quite make sense to Smol Dex #but i’ve always imagined sophie turning up on fitz’s doorstep in the middle of the night #with tears running down her face and saying she didn’t know who else to talk to about almost-immortality feeling so so so wrong as she #gets older. not necessarily just because he knows more about humanity than most of her group #but also because like. there’s some part of her that says ‘if he can help you through learning to be an elf at 12 maybe he can help you at #42 too’. and they’re cognates. and they’ve gotten old enough to set aside teenage grievances with one another #and i like the idea of them sitting on a couch together by lamplight and trying to navigate the cultural and personal differences #in how the two of them and humanity and the lost cities view mortality #and not really reaching a concrete conclusion. but rather. a conclusion that keeps the two of them sane until they reach triple digits. #and then they have the conversation again. and come up with a plan to stay sane in their triple digits. and the same thing pops up in their #thousands. idk man the whole thing screams trust down to the bone and that’s what they should have when the war is over #is there anything more Cognate than talking through wildly different fears surrounding the same thing that make both parties #super vulnerable??? down to how your minds work in the face - or lack of - death? #maybe so but i can’t think of them off top of my head #kotlc #sophie foster #kotlc headcanons #keeper of the lost cities

[cupcakeinat0r]

A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class

In celebration of 1k followers, I give you Pt.5 <3

Enjoy! - Cupcake

Since that day you kissed Miguel on the cheek, the dynamic of y’all’s relationship had totally changed, but not drastically. Miguel was back to acting soft towards you, greeting you upon your somewhat late arrivals, getting you little gifts that reminded him of you, and the subtle exchange of glances in class.

Professor O’Hara was a little handsy during your tutoring sessions before, but now he was even more so, your little peck on his cheek was all the encouragement he needed. For sure, his job was on the line since anyone could’ve walked in and seen the two of you like this, but it was worth the risk. Just as long as you both acted this way in his office, the coast was clear.

The head messages had doubled, footsies was played underneath his desk, and he’d even find any excuse to have his hand on yours while you both worked independently, sitting in peaceful silence with each other. You found it hard to complete the research questions when his thumb kept caressing your knuckles, yet, you never protested. His flirt game was rusty, his advances limited to innocent touching and praise, but nonetheless, it was adorable to you the way he tried.

After that day in his office, tutoring sessions became less about tutoring and more just about being in each other’s company. Instead of spending an hour practicing formulas, you both would mingle while organizing the lecture hall or filing research papers. Anything to help Prof. O’Hara, or rather Miguel, since y’all are officially on a first-name basis.

A new development was when you started staying after to help him grade papers. The two of you would use this time to talk one-on-one more, no one there to interrupt. Miguel was just as handsy during this time, too. As mentioned before, he’d find any excuse to touch you, and in the most innocent ways. For example, if he saw a strand of your hair falling on your face while you were grading a paper, he’d simply tuck it behind your ear for you, or when the necklace he got you was crooked or facing the wrong side, he’d gently fix it for you while you spoke to him about one of your current interests, following along with low hums and ‘mhm’s. It’d make you blush and stutter mid-sentence, inflating his otherwise small ego.

Miguel wasn’t a very vocal person, you knew that, but you can see by his actions that he really really liked you. You continued to show your appreciation by leaving treats on his desk, keeping note that his favorite was black coffee and a quesito from the bakery he showed you on campus. A pastry not too sweet, and goes perfectly with a cup of cafécito.

But you were just too sweet and Miguel completely fell for it. He saw how eager you were to help other people in the class, and seeing how willing you were to stay with him to help him with anything you could. He admired that. It also confused him for so long because how has no one swept you off your feet? You were literally perfect? Certainly, people have tried, there’s no way he would believe that no one has. It’s apparent now that the both of you share feelings that are beyond platonic, it’s just a matter of time before someone makes the next move. Given the circumstances, for now, Miguel is taking things microscopically slow with you. He doesn’t wanna scare you off. The last thing he wants is to ruin his chance with you.

His feelings for you were growing, which slightly terrified him given that you are still, in fact, his student, no matter how grown you were. He couldn’t help it. His dreams about you were turning less lustful and more wholesome. When he sleeps, he would see himself coming home to you, cooking with you, reading books next to each other, or even cleaning with you. Just mundane day-to-day tasks, only they’re with you. Maybe for now, they’ll just stay in his dreams. Maybe.

<3

The lecture had just finished and you sent your new best friend, the transfer, away with a European farewell, kissing both of his cheeks. Without you knowing, Miguel watches on with an unamused smirk, remembering how he mistook your relationship with the transfer as a romantic one.

Before leaving the lecture hall, you strut towards Miguel to give him your now-routinely kiss goodbye (on the cheek, of course…). As you walk, you see that he’s crouched over his computer, tired eyes glossing over the screen. The fatigue of finals season is beginning to show on him, and it was a pitiful sight that made you purse your lips. Although it made you sad, you couldn’t help but let a small puff of air out your nose with how his glasses sat low on his nose. He never bothered to fix them, so you were the one who’d fix them oftentimes, and every time, he’d give you a small, “gracias, mama.”

You set down your bag, the thud of it hitting the floor finally stealing Miguel’s attention away from the blue-lit screen. He looks you up and down over his lenses, the small, fine lines of his face showing his age and you loved ittt.

“Sweetheart, as much as I love it when you stay and help, I’d be happier knowing you’re at home getting the rest you deserve.” He softly speaks, this version of himself that is so different from the one he presents in front of his class and colleagues.

“You worry too much, Miguel.” You plant yourself next to his chair, leaning down to get a better look at what on the computer has him so worked up. “Jesus, Miguel, no wonder you look sick.” You scroll through what seems like an endless list of students who signed up for office hours. With the amount that registered, Miguel would have to work even outside of his office hours.

From Miguel’s seated position, he has first-class access to your sweet perfume and a million-dollar view of your neck and chest, his mind wandering for a moment.

“Are you listening to me? This is ridiculous, there’s no way you’re cramming this amount of students… is there not another professor who could tutor as well?” the small raise of your voice is enough to bring his attention upward, not that that was any better of a view. Now, he was just looking at your lips, and how your lip plump makes them looks deliciously kissable. He imagined how’d they’d look if they were-

“Miguel O’Hara!” He blinks once or twice, gaining consciousness again, “Excuse me, uh, yeah, no, I’m the only one who can. For this class, I mean.” He rubs one of his eyes, letting out a sigh as he looks at the heavily packed schedule displayed on his desktop. “Anyways, it’s my responsibility. This was in the job description, so I gotta do what I gotta do.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, hands on your hips, “Okay, but that doesn’t mean compromising your own health. There are healthy and efficient ways of doing your job, Mig.”

There’s that nickname he loved. He melted every time you used it, the familiarity of y’all’s relationship shining through the most when you did. He especially loved it when you were upset. He thought it was cute.

“Let me tutor some.” This snaps Miguel back to Earth, but this time, he’s in disbelief. “You’d tutor other students?” This was a rhetorical question, of course, he knew you were serious. He knew how big your heart was. He guessed he was just in disbelief because, once again, he was beguiled by the existence of a literal angel sent to Earth. He can’t believe he’s been blessed by your presence and friendship (?). You were so kind, so intelligent, so put-together, extremely gorgeous… you were utterly perfect.

“If splitting the work meant you got some sort of rest around here, then of course I would! Mig…” You grab the nearest chair and pull it to sit next to him, placing a hand on top of his. His hand relaxes under your touch, “You’ll work yourself to death like this.” You send a warmth onto his hand and up his arm you rub circles on his knuckles, the same way he does it to you.

“You’ve done so much for me, Miguel. Let me repay you, please? Please let me do this?” You bat your eyes, Miguel’s kryptonite.

Miguel turns his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeing the genuinity in your eyes. He gives it a small squeeze before saying, “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” it comes out just above a whisper.

“Plenty, Miguel. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met,” you cock your head to the side, your eyes tracing the muscles of his broad shoulders, counting in your head all the possible knots buried deep in there,” Here, sit back, please.” You say sweetly, standing back up to travel to the back of his seat.

“What’re you up to?” His eyebrows raised, but he eased again when he felt your small hands massaging the crooks of his neck. “Sshhhh, just relax, Mig. It’s ok.”

He furrows his brows feeling the scrumptious pain of knots unfurling and tension melting away. You know you hit a good spot when he accidentally lets out small groans. You’re doing so good that it takes every thing in him to hold back any embarrassing moaning.

You can see his literal jaw unclench, happy to see him so relaxed. “Feel good?” You whisper in a sugary tone, Miguel nodding with his lips parted. With his eyes closed, you were able to closely examine all the features that make up his beautiful face. He was simply gorgeous.

“S’good mama… s’good…” he speaks under his breath as you knead out the stubborn knots on his neck. Once you feel like you’ve ridden all the points of tension there, you slowly work your toward his clavicle. He lets you unbutton the first three buttons of his polo sweater. With your whole hands, you apply pressure there, offering weighted comfort to the area.

Then you rub up and down slowly, the sensation of his chest hair tempting you to venture deeper down his thick torso. Due to the immense relaxation, Miguel’s head begins to fall back onto your stomach, so you step closer to give him extra support.

He hums when he feels both of your hands cup his face. You then remove his glasses so you can work on his temples. His eyes are still closed, but you can see his lips slightly curl, which makes you smile. You wonder what he’s thinking about,

Miguel is currently thinking about where he should get down on one knee for you. He’s thinking about what color you’d possibly want the cabinets to be in your shared home. He’s thinking about if y’all’s child will be as nerdy as him or as fashionable as you. Either way, he’d be the happiest man in the world. This train of thought is stopped by the sensation of your lips on his forehead. His heart stops as well.

Then he feels the soft smack of your lips on his left cheek, then his right, leaving behind a trail of lip gloss prints. Anticipating a potential fourth kiss somewhere specific, he slowly opens his eyes, your face inches from his. His head leans all the way back, resting against your stomach still.

It’s silent between the two of you. You both lock eyes, completely drowning in the other's gaze. No words were exchanged, but there didn’t need to be.

Seeing no other action fit for this perfect moment, Miguel raises his hand above him to cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You inch down closer, your heart racing. His is, too.

When your lips cannot move anymore without touching, in what would be considered “Spider-Man” style ;) , you both share a kiss, so sweet and innocent. The perfect first kiss. You’re the first to pull away, but not wanting to pull away just yet, Miguel pulls you back into his lips by adding his other hand to your head, extending the kiss just a bit longer. You weren’t complaining, you’d stay here forever if you could.

Feeling your knees getting weak, you shift all your weight onto Miguel, your hands traveling from the sides of his face back to his pecs underneath his sweater. This also deepens your kiss, so to deepen it even more, Miguel's hands wrap around the back of your neck. You both come up for air for just a mere second, Miguel breathlessly letting out a weak, “Please?”

knowing what he meant, slowly going back down again but this time, open-mouthed. Miguel groans into your mouth with the feeling of his tongue on yours, practically treating it like his lollipop. The kiss becomes hungrier with a nibble on your lip by Miguel, pulling on it while you get some needed air. It’s getting sloppy now, and your hands travel lower, meeting the softness of his belly. His breath hitches when he feels them there, half-expecting you to be revolted in any way, but your hands just sit there. In fact, you start messaging there as well, giving love to his whole body. Your hands drag up and down his whole torso with each wet collision of your lips. Your hands would go as low as the pudge sitting above his belt, all the way to up his knife-like jawline, and back down again, and repeat. It’s like you wanted him to know you worshipped his body, and Miguel wanted to show some in return.

Using his hands on the back of your head, he tapped you to pull away so that he could take your hand and guide you around his chair, pulling you to straddle his lap. “C’mere…”

Tongues are going down throats, moans are being heard, and hands are becoming desperate. The fingers tugging his hair, his hands squeezing the globes of your ass, him desperately lifting his hips to make some friction. It was like horny college kids fucking for the first time…. or at least maybe one of y’all felt that way. The other was just that. A horny college student.

There was no stopping either of you, except maybe for the knocking at the lecture hall door.

Both your heads snapped toward the thankfully semi-transparent, iced door. You scramble to get off Miguel’s lap, Miguel wiping your lip gloss off his face. You go to button his sweater and fix his hair as he calls out, “Just a moment.” You give him his glasses when you hear the voice of the student speaking about a tutoring session with Miguel through the door.

Miguel thinks he’ll go to the door, but he feels you grab his hand. “Hey,” you pull him in for one last peck, “I’ll take this one, mkay?” You smile up at him, a very dazed Miguel looking back at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s floating right now.

“Anyways, it seems like someone,” you look down, motioning to the prominent bulge in his pants, “needs a moment to calm down.” You chuckle, practically gliding to the door as Miguel looks down at his excitement, wide-eyed and making his own way into his private office to… read about DNA Polymerase Replacement or something.

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my mastlist, bae!

A/n: I just wanted to thank you guys for 1k followers as well as all the appreciation on this lil story of mine<3 y’all so sweet n cewt, and it’s so much fun writing this fic n just writing in general! Ty for letting my creative juices fuel ur delulu <3 I also hope that this hot, wet, fat kiss made up for all the edging I’ve done, if not, sorry <3 Next chapter tho………….. but chu gotta stay tuned, yall hear meeeeee????

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson  @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @rxckstarss @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow  @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @ce3stvu @mintssanctuary @migueloharasoulmate @veyveys @theanbitchless @nebulositycloud @jh7ley @gothicteddybearhugs

#dadbod!miguel #professor!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #mechanic miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #miguel o’hara fluff #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel fic

[hedgehog-moss]

On the eve of planned nationwide demonstrations, I want to offer an overview of the ways the protests in France are being handled by the government so far (and if what you’ve heard is that this is over a 2 year increase in retirement age, please do take a minute to read this post to get a better idea of the context)

1. In Paris on March 21, a CRS (cop) threw a tear gas grenade in the air towards protesters (they’re supposed to throw them near the ground); the grenade landed and exploded on a protester’s head. (x)

2. Massive use of tear gas at every protest, on this vid from March 17 you can see the Place de la Concorde (largest public square in Paris) drowned in tear gas. (x)

3. In Paris on March 20, video of a CRS with a baton hitting protesters who are cowering against a wall (x)

4. CRS grabbing demonstrators in (illegal) chokeholds and dragging them by the neck (x)

5. In Strasbourg on March 21, police trapped about a hundred protesters in a narrow alleyway and tear gassed them from both ends of the alley so they couldn’t escape; an asthmatic person lost consciousness; people who lived there opened their doors and let the protesters enter their houses to get to safety. (x)

6. In Paris on March 20, a CRS shot a protester with an LBD riot gun (rubber bullets) and shouted at him “Pick up your balls now, fucker” (x) (an allusion to the several instances in recent years of protesters having testicle injuries from LBD guns - and non-protesters too, in 2015 a Muslim teenage boy lost a testicle after being shot by a cop with rubber bullets when he was shooting firecrackers in a park on July 14th / Bastille day). A few seconds later in the video another CRS tells the one who said that “careful there’s a camera”

7. In Paris on March 21, a group of 4 or 5 CRS who were dispersing demonstrators, threw a homeless man to the ground who had been shouting at them (hard to hear what he said, the first sentence is “How can you do this job?”), kicking him in the head while he was down and mocking him when he couldn’t get up, calling him a ‘fatso’ and ‘sack of shit’ (the woman you can hear at the end of the video is yelling at the CRS to help the guy get up and telling them “do you lack humanity to this point?”) (x)

8. That same day Macron gave a speech on TV in which he said “the crowd [= the protesters] has no legitimacy against the people, who express themselves through their elected representatives” even though he passed his reform without a vote from the elected representatives—and considering polls show the vast majority (>70%) of the country is against the reform, the “people” and the “crowd” are one and the same. Today (March 22) he gave another TV speech in which he compared what’s happening in France right now to the January 6 US capitol attack.

9. During today’s speech Macron also said “minimum-wage workers have never seen such an increase in purchasing power” which is a mad thing to say in the middle of a cost of living crisis, and he used the term ‘smicard’ in this sentence— the minimum wage in France is called the SMIC and smicard is a derogatory word for minimum-wage workers. He decried the “extreme, unregulated violence” of protesters but had nothing to say about the unregulated violence of his police forces, and instead stoked the fire with contemptuous language that angers people the day before a planned mass protest.

10. Hundreds of protesters (and even people who weren’t protesting but just nearby) have been arrested and taken into custody in “preventative arrests”; the vast majority were then released due to “absence of an offence.” Here’s a thread by a woman who was arrested in Paris along with 11 other women (one was a 17 year-old girl) for taking part in a peaceful protest. They spent 20 hours all in one cell, were only allowed to go to the toilet if they left the door open, were frisked and had their fingerprints and DNA samples taken. Also, in Nantes on March 14, four young women age 18-20 reported having been sexually assaulted by police during body searches while participating in a student protest.

And a thread by a 19-year-old Black student who spent 48 hours in custody last week along with 4 other people who were arrested in Paris as they were walking down the street. Lots of racist shit in this thread. He had already spent 14 hours in custody after a protest a couple of days before, and ended up being charged for refusing to have his DNA samples taken.

This article in Le Monde from yesterday (it’s in French and unfortunately paywalled) talks about people who took part in last week’s protests having been handcuffed and searched in their underwear then released free of charges the next day; a lawyer comments how this is clearly meant to discourage people from demonstrating. The article also mentions two 15 year old Austrian boys who were on a class trip to Paris and were rounded up with a group of demonstrators, so the Austrian embassy had to intervene. (Journalist mentions sarcastically “We don’t know if these high schoolers’ DNA samples were taken.”)

11. There are videos from various protests of journalists wearing the press armband being threatened, hit, or shoved to the ground by police. In Montpellier yesterday, a journalist took this photo as a CRS was pointing his rubber bullet gun at his head and another was running at him with his baton telling him “I don’t give a fuck about your press card” —the photographer managed to run away. (x)

This is all from the past ten days (and mostly from the past two days) and far from an exhaustive list, there's so much outrageous stuff happening (like the Minister of the Interior lying and saying participating in an undeclared demonstration is illegal, when it’s not) but it gives a good idea of what French democracy looks like under Macron. The above photo says it all really. And thank you to all the people who continue taking part in the protests and strikes.

#frpol #police violence #not sure what to tag this as #i know it's very far from the usual theme of this blog but people should know what a shitshow this country is rn #all the photos are from the tweets that i've linked

[pandoraslxna]

OMG no bc stepbro lo’ak secretly fingering you under the table

Movie night

Stepbro Lo‘ak x female Omatikaya reader

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Lo’ak can’t keep his hands to himself. Not even during movie night.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest, stepsibling au, aged up characters, innocent reader (I leave it to your imagination if she’s a virgin), slight age difference, they’re very much in public, voyeurism, fingering, little degradation, corruption kink, teasing between (step)siblings

Tonight was movie night at the labs in high camp.

It was a little tradition that Lo‘ak and Spider had started just a few months ago. Norm and Max had allowed them to use the big screen in the common room of the bio laboratory to watch some of the movies they had available. Gradually, more and more people had joined them in their little tradition over the last few weeks. Now there was your stepfather Jake and your stepsiblings Kiri and Neteyam. But also Norm and Max and some of the other scientists. And you, of course. Your stepmother, Neytiri, wasn’t a big fan of the whole thing. She still despised most human technology and basically everything else the humans did, so she usually avoided any unnecessary contact with them. You weren’t even sure if she liked Norm and the others. During movie night she would rather take care of chores or spend time with Tuk. The youngest wasn’t allowed to join anyways, since most of these movies weren’t exactly meant for children. Today was horror movie night on top of all.

The concept of horror or movies in general was still quite new to you, so you decided to settle as close to your stepbrother Lo‘ak as possible. Lo’ak had always been good at these human things. He was curious and eager to learn, so he understood these things pretty fast. And he enjoyed playing his big brother role very much, teaching you about them and easing your anxiety by explaining that the things you were watching weren’t real and it was all fiction and technology. He bought you great comfort.

Somewhere during the first thirty minutes of the movie, Lo’ak had pulled you onto his lap, his arms encircled your middle and his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Every once in a while, he planted a soft kiss to your temple or along your jaw. It’s was such an innocent gesture, so naturally that you two showed affection towards one another that nobody in the room even batted an eye. Your arms were resting on the table in front of you, mindlessly drawing patterns onto the tabletop and your eyes were entirely fixed on the screen in the front. You were sitting a little far behind in the left corner of the room, so it was a good thing that the screen was rather big and you were able to see perfectly fine from back there.

Lo’ak however, had a very hard time concentrating and following the movies plot. He was too busy focusing on the feeling of your soft bottom pressed tight against his crotch, where his erection grew with every passing second. He mentally cursed your choice of clothing today. Nothing else but this thin piece of woven fabric separated your privat parts from his cock. Worst of all was probably, that he was to one that had made this loincloth for you– with exactly that thought in mind.

You were painfully unaware about how much you were affecting your stepbrother, when you squirmed in his lap like that. Pressing yourself further against his crotch whenever you got scared. In the corner of his eyes, he watched the way you chewed on your bottom lip and how your breath hitched whenever the masked killer was on screen. You were adorable like this.

Lo’ak couldn’t help the way his hands wandered over your belly, caressing your skin as if they had a mind on their own. Experimentally, he dipped them a little lower, tracing the faint stripes on your lower abdomen and hips. His touches slowly grew more confident and bold over time. Sliding his hands over your thighs, he begins to massage your soft flesh, paying special attention to the squishy insides of your legs. Your skin was warm and smooth there. You weren’t unfamiliar with his touch, not even on those parts of your body. You didn’t resist him, when he wedged your legs slightly apart to make room for his hands. He could feel your tail, gently swaying next to his leg, making it known that you were relaxed and content. Maybe a little excited, but that was probably because of the movie.

Discreetly, Lo‘ak glanced around the room. Neither his friends nor his family payed any attention to him, everyone seemingly focused on the movie. Good.

His hands slide just a little further, until his thumb followed the outline of where your loincloth covered your sex. You were so lost in the bright, flashing movements in the front of the room, that you barely registered what was happening. Until Lo’aks thumb glides over the thin fabric resting over your folds. You inhaled sharply, but not loud enough for anyone to hear. The movie was too loud anyways.

You blink a few times, as if you were trying to gather your thoughts and make out what your stepbrother was doing. You were used to him being touchy with you, showing you just a little more affection than your other siblings, touching you in ways that stepsiblings weren’t supposed to touch each other. But Lo’ak always assured you that it was normal and that you should just let it happen if it felt good. Sure, hugs and cuddles and kisses felt good, very good even– but this was something completely new. It made your stomach tingle, almost the same way it did when he kissed you with his tongue.

Meanwhile, Lo’ak repeats the same motion again. He adds a little more pressure over the thin cloth, enough to part your lips under his touch to feel for your clit. Even covered by your loincloth, he expertly found the little nub of pleasure. Once found, he presses down on it and instantly, your eyes widen and your back straightens.

"Lo’ak?", you call out for him softly, barely turning your head in his direction as you spoke because you were just too flustered to look at him right now.

"It’s okay, just… just pay attention to the movie, yeah?", he whispered, sounding almost breathlessly as he spoke against the shell of your ear. You swallowed thickly, but like the good little sister that you were, you nodded and tried your best to regain focus on the plot.

At some point when the killer lured one of the human teenagers into his cabin somewhere in the woods, you felt Lo’ak pull your loincloth to the side.

His fingertips were ghosting over your flesh, with barely enough pressure, yet you were already panting. His index finger slides through your soft folds and you hear him exhale a shaky breathe behind you.

"You’re so wet, what’s got you all excited?", he whispered along a soft, content hum. You could literally feel the way your cheeks changed color, from blue to purple, because you were just so flustered from your big brothers filthy words. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond to him. You didn’t even dare to open your mouth, too scared that a moan could slip out at any second. Especially, when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb again.

His index finger then glides over your entrance, spreading your slickness and coating his digits in those clear juices. Ever so carefully, he slips his very fingertips into your cunt. Just an inch, before he pulls out again. You visibly tense above him, while he repeats the motion a few times. You bite your lip hard enough to keep quiet.

Slowly, Lo’ak slides his finger deeper inside, deep enough until his last knuckle disappeared past your tight opening. He places a tender kiss on your bare shoulder, before he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you. It’s slow, but enough to make you gasp and huff out tiny breaths of air.

"Shh, you have to be quiet, okay?"

He was one to talk. Right when the words had left his lips, he pushed a second finger into you. Your hand, that was resting against the tabletop just a few minutes ago, quickly comes up to cover your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut when he begins to scissor you open.

Lo’ak could already feel you clench around his digits and you were slick enough, that it slowly begun to produce faint squelching sounds. Thankfully, the movie was getting to its high point and the dramatic music mixed with the screams of the killers victims overturned your soft whimpers and the obscene sounds that your pussy made.

"Lo‘ak I’m… I‘m really trying, but—", you turn your head enough so he could hear your quiet whimpers, but he quickly shushed you.

"I know, baby. Does your big brother make you feel good? Feeling all special down there, hm?" He tilted his head and you got a glimpse of the smug grin on his face. Nodding your head quickly, Lo’ak kisses your cheek affectionately. "Try to focus", he then tells you, acting like he was paying attention to the movie again. You try your best to do like him, but it was getting more difficult with every thrust of his fingers.

When his other hand finally joins him under your loincloth, you almost loose it altogether. Now he was using both of them, one hand circling your clit with the one was busy burying two of his thick digits into your tight pussy.

Mindlessly, you buck your hips in an attempt to try and move away from him, the sensation of his hands all over your private parts simply being too much for you when you weren’t allowed to make any noise. You arch your back a little, your bottom pressing harder against his crotch only to feel his throbbing cock right there where you were sitting.

He was hard beneath you, impossible to ignore, yet there was no way you could do anything to help him out with this. Not here, to say the least. But Lo’ak didn’t even made any intentions for you to do so. You could clearly feel him twitch against the curve of your bottom, desperately waiting to get touched, yet Lo‘ak only payed attention to you. Seemingly taking pleasure by simply playing with you, teasing you in a room full of people. He carefully grinds himself against you a few times, but that was it. It would’ve been too obvious for anyone else if he kept doing that though. You, almost humping his hands was enough to hide already.

The pace in which he pumped his fingers in and out of your pussy has you squirming in his lap, toes curling and biting your tongue to prevent yourself from moaning out loud. The way he was rubbing your clit simultaneously, switching between slow and fast, as if he wanted you to become vocal, drove you quicker to the edge than you thought was even possible.

But then, on the other side of the room, your stepfather coughs and shifts in his seat. It startles you enough to squeeze painfully tight around Lo’aks fingers.

"Easy, sis", he coos next to your ear, "It’s okay, I’ve got you. They won’t see anything, don’t worry."

You squeezed your eyes shut once again and tried not to think about all the people in the room, because it just felt too good to stop now. The strokes of his fingers, the way he rubbed your clit as if he could read your mind, as if he did this a thousand times already and knew exactly how to make you come.

His speed picked up slightly, only making you whimper again. You leaned forward enough to rest your head on the table, encircled by your own arms to make it look like your were just tired. In reality, you bit down hard on your bottom lip and your eyes crossed before they rolled to the back of your head.

The soft, wet walls of your pussy were clamping down on his digits, tightening even more as the rest of you was starting to tense too. You could feel yourself right on the edge, his thick fingers pumping into you with vigour, your arousal running down between your legs, soaking his fingers where he was rubbing your throbbing clit over and over.

Your body trembled in his lap from the efforts of keeping any noises inside, when Lo’ak didn’t bother to slow down, carrying you thoroughly through every second of your climax until you were limp and whimpering quietly against your palm that was now covering your mouth again.

How he had managed to make you come harder with his hands than you ever had with your own was fucking beyond you. 

When Lo’ak finally pulled his hand away and discreetly rearranged your loincloth, you slowly sit up again, letting your back rest against his front. You were spent, chest rapidly rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath again. In the corner of your eye, you watch Lo’ak lick his fingers clean with a wet pop.

Not shortly after, the lights of the common room are turned on again and you squint your eyes until they have adjusted to the brightness.

"And? How did you like it, guys?", Spider gleefully approached you both as soon as the blinds went up again and everyone had started their little chitter chatter about the movie, "You look a little shaken, everything alright?" He looked at you with genuine concern for a moment. At least until Lo’ak bursted out laughing, "She’s such cry baby, she was super scared the whole time. You should’ve seen her, bro! Maybe we should leave her with Tuk next time if these are too scary for her, right sis?" Lo’ak pinched your cheek teasingly and you couldn’t help but blush even harder at his words, a little pout forming when they both laughed at that.

You squirmed in Lo‘aks lap, cringing, as you felt your own slickness smear between your thighs with the movement of his laughter. Spider then turned his attention back to you, with both eyebrows raised high, as if he had just made a great discovery, "Ohh so that’s why you were hiding your face in the end? C’mon, it wasn’t even that scary!"

#avatar 2 #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #awow #loak x reader #loak x female reader #loak #atwow loak #loak fanfiction #loak sully #lo’ak #lo’ak te suli tsyeyk’itan #lo’ak sully #lo’ak x reader

[slttygeto]

MORE THAN THAT— LO’AK SULLY.

pairing: x fem! reader.

tags: childhood friends to lovers, a little bit of angst towards the middle, insecure lo’ak, reader is mad at him, lack of communication because i love pain, they’re both 18 during the second half! a little suggestive towards the end, this is a long one btw :].

word count: 7k (my longest fic!!!)

note: ive been writing this for about a month (on and off obviously) and i thought i might share it now that i finally decided where to end it (?), it’s not entirely proof-read, my amazing best friend @aurelianamu (check her neteyam piece its amazing) read some of it and told me what to fix, so the rest will be corrected along the way. thank you for reading!

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

You are ten when you first meet the Sully’s, family of Toruk and Palulukan Makto.

Being the newest friend of Kiri, the second oldest didn’t hesitate to introduce you to her family, proud of the fact that she managed to make a friend so easily. You were shy, closed off and unsure of how to behave in the presence of the man that your parents told you many stories about. Your little child brain was curious to know as to how he behaved with his family, if he would be nice to you or strict and harsh, even if he had no reason to show anything besides kindness to his daughter’s newest friend.

“She is the same age as Lo’ak,” Kiri exclaimed with lots of excitement, holding your hand tightly while standing in front of her parents.

“Is that so?” Kiri’s mother, Neytiri, spoke with a gentle tone, smile adorning her lips which was unusual since she always seemed to be sporting a serious look on her face around The People.

“Who is the same age as me?” A voice spoke from behind you and suddenly, you were very aware of the fact that Kiri had more siblings than you—in fact, you had none. So you jumped slightly, a little surprised by the proximity of the boy.

“(Name), my friend!” Kiri’s excitement while introducing you warmed your heart but it also made you hyperaware of the looks you were receiving even if they weren’t malicious.

“Your friend?” Lo’ak stated in question, eyes scanning your face before puffing his chest out proudly like a peacock. “I bet being my friend would be more fun!”

Now, you weren’t expecting that. Kiri let go of your hand to push her brother back, almost telling him off at his attempt at stealing you away from her and you could only watch in horror as the bickering turned into hair pulling.

“Hi, I’m Neteyam.” Neteyam’s voice was soft and gentle, very similar to his mother’s and it made you relax for a moment before you realized you had to introduce yourself as well. Yet before you could speak, he was cutting you off with a nod. “(Name), I heard Kiri introduce you.”

You nodded back at him, eyes falling on the scene unraveling before you; Lo’ak and Kiri being scolded heavily by Toruk Makto himself, his eyes warning them that if they tried to say one more word, they would get grounded for a whole month.

“Ma Jake, be nice. We have a guest.” Neytiri tried to console.

“Exactly, so they should learn how to behave,” Jake Sully grabbed his kids and made them stand in front of you. “It’s up to her if she wants to befriend either of you, okay?”

“But dad! I found her first!” Kiri’s bottom lip quivered and you stepped towards her with a look of concern.

“Kiri, you’re my friend.” Lo’ak huffed at this, head dramatically turning to the side making his hair move with him. “Lo’ak can also be my friend.” Said boy’s ears perked up at this, face slowly turning to face you while scanning for any possible clues that you were just kidding.

Jake smiled at this, hand resting on top of your head before ruffling your hair. “Yeah? You wouldn’t mind befriending this knucklehead?”

“Knucklehead?” Your confusion only added to the fun of it and Jake chuckled before standing up straight.

“It means he needs someone to look out for him at all times.”

“Dad!” Lo’ak whined at the statement yet you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

“Friends look out for each other, right?” Your question earned a nod of approval from Toruk Makto and that was all you needed before stepping forward, firmly holding Lo’ak’s hand in your own.

“Lo’ak and I are friends then.” The youngest boy stared at you in awe, feeling the tips of his ears warm up at the sincerity of your voice.

“Friends.”

You are twelve when you learn what a pinky promise is.

You loved hanging out with Kiri, yet she and the rest of her family couldn’t deny the obvious chemistry between you and Lo’ak.

Despite the youngster’s stubborn personality and disobedient nature, he became more tolerable around you. That didn’t mean that he stopped from causing trouble, but he was seen around you sharing toys, passing you bits of food that was handed to him by his mother and even went as far as to to grab a giant leaf from a tree to cover you when you curled yourself into a ball to sleep.

The same could be said about you, yet your personality was never a problem in the first place. Kiri knew you as the kind hearted young na’vi that you presented yourself to be and you didn’t change around any of her family members. Although, she was able to notice the way you let things slide for the sake of being close to Lo’ak, such as letting him near your personal space, allowing him to touch your hair and look at the beads while proudly showing off your mother’s choice of colors and even letting him redo one of your braids as you two sat in silence.

Kiri wanted to feel jealous of this, she did befriend you first but she couldn’t help but let her heart feel at ease. Her brother and closest friend got along and it was worth more than anything in the world.

“Lo’ak, aren’t all sky people bad?” you were currently in the middle of your play session with the young na’vi, and the latter halted his actions at your words to stare at you with furrowed eyebrows. He noticed your stare, how it lingered on Spider, their human companion for as long as they could remember, before returning his eyes back on you.

“My dad was once a sky person, he isn’t bad at all.”

“Your dad is Toruk Makto!” you exclaimed almost in disbelief at the fact that Lo’ak was insinuating that you were even thinking of lumping his dad with those terrible people who had once destroyed your home.

“I’m just saying, if my dad is nice and he once was a sky person, then it means there’s a chance good sky people exist.” Lo’ak answered with a shrug. He trusted easily, that was something you envied him for. You couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling whenever you stared at Spider and a part of you felt bad that your brain didn’t allow you to relax in the presence of a boy who had done nothing to you, his only crime was to belong to a race that caused you great pain and suffering.

“It could be true…” Your friend was able to sense your anxiety just by looking at your body shrink in its spot, your arms hugging your knees closer to your chest before resting your head there. He might’ve not been the softest out of his siblings, but he knew that you needed comforting ; any kind that is.

“Hey listen,” Lo’ak put his toy down next to you before leaning down to your level with his pinky finger up. “I promise that I won’t ever let sky people do anything to you, okay? Pinky promise.”

Despite the feeling of warmth that you felt at his words, the obvious confusion on your face was a telltale sign that you didn’t know what a pinky promise was.

“Pinky… promise?” your voice came out soft, hesitant as you mirrored lo’ak’s actions and the moment he hooked both of your pinkies together, you felt your heart strings tug in your chest.

“Yes. A promise that is never meant to be broken.”

At your silence, Lo’ak realized that you had been staring at his hand. Hard.

Upon figuring out what was so fascinating about his hand that it silenced you, he immediately tried to pull it back on his lap, regretting a little the fact that he got too comfortable showing you his hand, his filthy demon hand.

“No,” you started with a stern look, grabbing his hand to pull back next to your face and held his pinky finger up with much concentration on your face.

“I don’t judge, I like your hands,” you hooked your pinky finger once again with his and Lo’ak wasn’t able to shake off the funny feeling in his chest, how his heart leapt as he nervously gulped down the lump in his throat.

“Pinky promise?” His voice came out as a whisper, almost in disbelief that you were accepting of who he was and who he came from. he did believe that his father was the exception to use as an example to justify good sky people existing.

“Pinky promise.”

Fourteen and fifteen were an easy age, you got along most of the time and everyone was scared when the both of you teamed up against them. Yet sixteen and seventeen had proven to you that you were both strong minded and that made you butt heads often, only in harmless ways.

You two are eighteen you realize that the bickering and butting heads was just a love language of yours, that your disagreements would never take away from how much you cared for each other.

“You have got to be one knucklehead to do something like that!” You hiss at the boy who could only stare back at you with an equally murderous glare, clearly disliking the vocabulary you were using.

“I am no knucklehead if I just wanted to have fun.” He hissed in return, and it quickly turned into a groan when your hands tugged harshly at the bandage circling his arm, sending him a warning that you weren’t going to let it slide easily just because he was wounded.

“Fun on the war zone? I didn’t know that playing with your life is the newest form of entertainment.” His family watched in absolute entertainment as you two bickered back and forth. The argument kept shifting from humorous to serious and they didn’t know where to stand.

On the outside, it seemed as though you disliked one another, yet this was just another day for the Sullys where you and Lo’ak bickered so much, they had to get you two separated to make it stop.

“Shit- stop! that hurts!” he almost wailed, leaning back against the tree when you applied the ointment to the cut on his face and given the expression of disapproval you had on yours, Lo’ak could only mutter under his breath as he fixed his posture.

“Man, am I not allowed to complain now?”

“Lo’ak,” you started, and he could immediately sense your change in demeanor by how visibly deflated you looked.

“I’m okay,” He cut you off with a firm stare, but his hand held a warmth to it, a gentle reminder that he could never be mean to you for a long time as he rested his palm on top of your hand. “Really, it was just one reckless moment that is all.”

“You’ve been saying this for— Eywa knows how long, Lo’ak, it’s serious. You need to watch out.”

“You don’t trust me?” With his tone, you could tell he was genuinely curious to know what you felt about him as a warrior and his heart was ready to shatter into pieces, waiting for the usual answer that was chanted like a mantra by his father.

“I mean, I’m not as strong or as cool as big brother Neteyam, but I can be helpful on the field and–“

“Lo’ak, I trust you.” You were never one to lie, especially not when you let your eyes fall on his. Flashing him a small smile, your fingers applied the ointment on the rest of the cuts on his face in a much more delicate manner, taking in how his tail was swaying from side to side at your comment.

“Someone is a little happy,” you teased, hands gathering all the medical stuff that his grandmother had given you to put them back in their spot.

“I will push you off my Ikran next time we go on a ride.” the glare on his face was playful and you couldn’t help but pat his head affectionately.

“I can always call for my own Ikran you idiot.” He wasn’t even able to push you away when you leaned down with your pinky up to his face.

“Pinky promise, by the way,”

“Pinky promise?” You didn’t let him stay confused for long before grabbing his wrist to intertwine your pinky fingers together.

“That I trust you. With all of my heart.” and with that, you took off with your tail swaying softly from side to side.

Lo’ak observed you for some time after you left, ignoring how his face still stung a little from you tending to his small wounds. Sighing in exhaustion, he ignored the looks he was getting from Kiri who sat only a couple of steps away from him.

“Shut up.” He turned his head away when he saw his sister approach him with a teasing grin, ready to tell her off for the umpteenth time the same week for teasing him about the usual topic.

“I haven’t even said anything,” Kiri plopped herself next to her brother, immediately taking notice of how Lo’ak was able to see you every move from his spot.

“I know what you will say and you’re wrong.”

“So you’re just going to keep denying the obvious heart eyes you have for my best friend?” The girl na’vi raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I don’t have heart eyes for my best friend too, if you haven’t forgotten yet, I would never do anything to ruin the friendship.” To say that Lo’ak was an idiot was an understatement.

Kiri had told him that a crush would never ruin the friendship but Lo’ak saw it differently. You were a comfort he never thought he could have in a person beside family, a safe space for him to runaway to whenever things got too stressful with his father, Jake, and most importantly you were a best friend, a ride or die and someone who cared about him too much for him to risk watching everything fall apart.

His heart squeezed at the white lie he told his sister, another moment of denial where he forcefully swallowed down any possible trace of romantic feelings for his best friend and Kiri sighed in defeat, having already given up on the topic for the day.

“If you say so, don’t be disappointed if she finds someone else.” She stood up from her spot on the tree, looking down at her brother who visibly flinched at the mention of you possibly finding a mate, a lifelong partner and someone who would proudly show you off before Eywa.

“I would be happy for her,” Lo’ak almost bit his tongue at his attempt to fool his own heart, to halt it from hammering so strongly against his chest and stop himself from feeling so upset at the thought.

“Brother, you’re a fool.” Was all what Kiri said before walking away towards you and starting a casual conversation as usual, asking you if you wanted to go on a ride on your Ikrans after making sure every warrior was safe and taken care of.

And Lo’ak could only watch with a tight jaw, flexing his hand in an attempt to stop himself from possibly punching himself in the face.

Maybe Jake was right, he was a disappointment. Someone who isn’t even able to maintain a proper friendship without falling hard for his best friend, and the uncertainty of keeping things strictly platonic with you was eating him up alive. He hoped that Eywa would make his worries go away, and perhaps find a solution to the mess he had created inside his head.

Eywa didn’t take long before answering his prayers, but it came with a cost.

Longing stares and hours of talking to one another way past curfew after sneaking out turned into cold shoulders and short conversations. The effort was barely there and you could tell Lo’ak didn’t even want to acknowledge your existence whenever you came around and it hurt, it pained you that you didn’t even know what you had done wrong to suddenly lose a person whom you held so dear to your heart.

Your lip quivered as you stared at the plate of fruits you had freshly cut up for Lo’ak, tears threatening to spill from your eyes when you remember how he harshly rejected your offer at spending time together.

“I have a meeting with my father. Later.”

“But Lo’ak we haven’t–“

“Don’t be so clingy, I said later. Go find someone else to eat the fruits with.”

Clingy? Someone else?

You didn’t want to eat them with anyone beside him. Having him call you clingy when he used to get excited to spend time with you, saved you the last bits of his food and would talk your ear off about his schedule, it was all confusing. You didn’t know what you had done wrong and if you were even able to fix it given how it was painfully obvious that you were the source of the miscommunication going on.

It felt like Eywa wasn’t on your side the past few weeks, and your heart squeezed in disappointment at how your strong faith was being questioned by such tough times. You never doubted your deity, believed that everything happens for a reason but what could possibly come out of being so abruptly separated from Lo’ak?

You headed back to your hammock and set the plate aside to grab your pen and paper. When everything felt like it was falling apart, writing seemed to be the safest option. You found comfort in spilling your worries to a sheet of paper and weren’t ashamed of it, in fact, you were praised greatly for it by Kiri who had told you that her mother would’ve definitely developed an interest to you and your ways of distressing.

Oh Eywa has it been difficult to breathe as of late. Lo’ak hates me, that I am sure of. I have been nothing but a good friend to him and I’m confused and heartbroken, I don’t know what to do Eywa and I want to talk to him, to ask him what caused to hate me so strongly. Maybe it’s my strong love for him? Have I pushed it too far?

To be truthful, you had been in a state of denial for quite some time now. You were a friend to Lo’ak, a companion and a person who was always by his side but your heart craved more.

It was the way your heart leapt whenever Lo’ak came around, throbbing when he sat next to you, leaving no space between the both of you. How your body tensed when he would place his hands on your shoulders and he would stare at you with concerned eyes, wondering if he had smacked your skin a bit too hard.

But you knew it was wrong. It was unacceptable for you to feel this way for your best friend, even more horrible to crave him in ways only two people who are mated want one another.

You felt rustling behind you and jumped at the noise, head whipping back with fearful eyes only to relax once you realized that it was just Neteyam.

You had grown to enjoy the boy’s company over the years and he was nothing but nice to you. The two of you had short yet sweet conversations and you could tell that Neteyam saw you as a sister, someone who belonged in the family more than anyone else.

“Thought you had a meeting with Mr. Sully?” your voice was small as you scribbled on your paper, lips pressed in a thin line and posture slouched as you leaned against the tree.

“Fix your posture, you’ll feel like you’re eighty when you’re twenty.” Neteyam tried to brighten up the mood, only to realize that it poor timing since you only flashed him a weak smile before giving a half assed attempt at sitting up properly.

“So no meeting, he just didn’t want to see me?” The boy flinched at your words and he wished you didn’t notice, but you were smart and you had a sharp eye. Things like body language and little white lies didn’t go unnoticed by you and yet Neteyam was confused on how you weren’t able to see through Lo’ak’s poor attempt at pushing you away because of how much he wanted you.

“He’s an idiot, but I promise you that–“

“Don’t…Don’t promise me something that might not happen,” you cut him off with a sharp intake of breath, your chest tightening and tears threatening to spill at any moment. You were growing tired of everyone reassuring you with words, only for Lo’ak to shatter any hope you’ve had that you two would make up from the nonexistent fight that you had.

“He thinks what he’s doing is the right thing, but it isn’t,” The eldest of the Sullys took it upon himself to wipe your tears away, thumbs caressing your cheeks in a delicate manner. “He is an idiot, but I want you to know that it’s paining him just as much,“

You scoffed at the words but never pulled away from the boy’s touch. “It pains him just as much? He’s the one who started it.”

“I know but–“

“Teyam,” your hand wraps around his wrist, and you gently pull it away from your face before holding his hand in your own. “It’s alright, I know you want to defend your brother and you have every right to do so but he hurt me, he’s causing me so much pain from a situation he created,”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides, but I’m also not going to let my pain get invalidated. I’m the one hurting here because he woke up on the wrong side of his hammock three weeks ago and decided not to utter a single word my way ever since.”

Neteyam could only sigh at your words. You were right, the situation was much more complicated than a simple disagreement between you two. Had you known the full story behind what was going on inside Lo’ak’s brain, maybe then it would feel fair to tell you that the boy was also in pain.

“Just do what feels less painful to you.” As if that was going to be easy, but the more you interacted with Lo’ak, the tighter your chest felt. You needed a break from the boy even if you knew that seeing him was enough to reassure you that he was doing okay.

This was the longest Lo’ak had ever sulked in a corner and everyone was starting to grow tired of it.

The boy was almost lifeless, barely engaging in any conversation with his family members. He ignored Tuk’s nagging and consistent request to play with her, brushed off Neteyam’s suggestion to go on a ride with their Ikrans and wouldn’t even talk back to Kiri and Spider.

He was unrecognizable to say the least.

Neytiri nudged her husband with a concerned look on her face, eyes silently begging him to do something about the boy who went from being the loudest to the most reserved.

Jake could only awkwardly shuffle in his spot before coughing to catch his children’s attention. Talking to his sons wasn’t his virtue, it felt easier to console his little girls but given how strange Lo’ak had been acting, it was finally time to have a heart to heart with his son.

“Son, let’s ride our Ikrans after dinner.”

Lo’ak didn’t even raise his head at the sentence, simply thinking that Jake wasn’t referring to him. It wasn’t until the silence had felt too long that Jake called again, this time making sure that he heard him.

“Son? Lo’ak?” said boy raised his head with a perplexed look, and Jake noticed how his food was basically untouched.

“Yes sir?”

“We’re riding our Ikrans after dinner.” Jake repeated, setting his plate to the side before nodding at Neytiri as a way of thanking her for the food.

“We?” the boy looked at his brother, unsure if he was hearing his father correctly.

“You and I, son.” Lo’ak grew nervous at this. He and his father weren’t on best terms most of the time given how their personalities clashed with one another, but he thought that giving it a try wouldn’t hurt anybody.

“Okay dad.”

After a poor attempt at finishing his food, Lo’ak finally decided to join his dad after hopping on his Ikran. He wasn’t entirely sure of what his father wanted to talk about but he hoped that it wouldn’t cause the two of them to start fighting as usual.

“You closed off on yourself,” Jake didn’t bother with trying to ease Lo’ak into the topic, he immediately pushed him inside. He could tell he caught his son off guard given the wide eyes and how his lips struggled to find the right words to say.

“And you’re not only hurting yourself but you’re also hurting people around you,” Jake wanted to see how far he could push his son before making him admit his obvious feelings for you, the one girl he and Neytiri were very sure that she was going to be their son’s future mate.

“I don’t have that many friends,” Lo’ak’s sarcasm could be sensed from miles away and Jake held back a sigh at how similar he and his son were. He hated that sometimes. seeing in his son a version of himself he was ready to bury.

“I’m glad that you’re acknowledging that (name) isn’t just a friend.” The eldest pushed his son a little further and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at how nervous and awkward his son got.

“She is just a friend…”

“We’re definitely different when it comes to this,” Lo’ak raised his head at his father’s words, unsure of where he was going with this.

“I married your mom not long after I met her, didn’t have time for all this being in denial bullshit,”

“Mom wasn’t a childhood friend.”

“Yet I think if she was a childhood friend, it would’ve made me want to marry her even more.”

The beauty of growing up together, getting to tell the next generation that you’ve known who your soulmate was at a very young age is a privilege not a lot of people have, not when most Na’vi have their mates chosen for them. And Lo’ak was very much aware of that and yet he couldn’t help but think that no one would choose him, not when he was so… like himself.

“I just think…she can do better,” Sharing his biggest insecurity was challenging enough as it was, but doing so with his father felt rough on his heart strings. Lo’ak’s throat tightened up and suddenly he became hyperaware of his fast heartbeat and sweaty palms, wishing that he had chosen something else to say to save him from the discomfort he was feeling.

“Is that truly up to you to decide?” The boy blinked once then twice, trying to register the fact that pouring his heart out was easier than he anticipated. He couldn’t bring himself to formulate a sentence for a good ten seconds before he was looking away from Jake, the latter’s words finally getting to his head.

“Does it even matter if I let her decide?”

“Would you have wanted her to let you feel the same if roles were reversed?”

“Roles could never be reversed cause she isn’t a freak like me,” Lo’ak almost snapped back in response and he visibly tensed at how defensive he was getting.

“So you think she deserves better than some five fingered freak like yourself?” Jake was blunt as he responded, eyes boring into his son’s who could only nod in response, not catching onto the sarcasm lacing in his words.

“Seems like you don’t know her as well as you claim to do.” Jake dipped down with his Ikran and Lo’ak followed shortly after with his own companion, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the words coming out of his father’s mouth.

“Of course I do know her, she’s my best friend and I’m sure that she—“

“The reason why you like her so much is because she never cared about stuff like this. It’s been this way ever since you were a child, son.” Toruk Makto was now face to face with his son as their Ikrans came to a stop mid air. “For you to make her go through so much pain because you suddenly decided that she wanted to change her ways and morals is unfair in my opinion, both for her and yourself.”

“But to ruin the friendship—“

“Again, those are only assumptions you have made based off of pretty weak evidence—made up one since you didn’t even question her on whom has her attention or better yet, her heart.”

The picture was slowly coming together to Lo’ak now and the clearer it got, the more he realized just how badly he fucked up.

Three agonizing weeks of ignoring you, stopping himself from joining a conversation you were in and suspending any attempt you had thrown his way to hang out together, catch up and possibly ask him what was so wrong that he refused to talk to you.

Sure, it pained him so much but he knew how sensitive you were. In fact, he could tell from your big yellow eyes how deeply hurt you were everytime he rejected you, and Eywa, did it make his heart squeeze, almost shatter at the sight of tears brimming your vision.

Lo’ak knew he fucked up, and he could only pray to Eywa that he would be able to fix what could possibly cost him a friendship and perhaps his childhood sweetheart.

You had every right to be ignoring Lo’ak right now. That, he is totally aware of, and even knew that it was exactly what he deserved after ghosting you for no apparent reason.

But at this point, you were just torturing him.

Tonight, the Omaticaya decided that it was time to hold their weekly party at the end of the week, distressing and letting loose after a long week of hard work.

Those parties were fun, they were what everyone needed—what you needed most importantly and you weren’t going to deny it, you were looking forward to it even if it meant having to encounter Lo’ak since he was Toruk Makto’s son.

Things had started pretty well with everyone chatting and discussing thing such as how great of a leader Toruk Makto was, how they haven’t felt this safe in quite some time and that everything being under his control was something to be proud of as forest Na’vi.

And while Jake and Neytiri soaked in all the attention, the kids were doing their thing. Mostly chatting with their friends or in some cases, stalking some.

Lo’ak was aware of how creepy he looked just staring at you with an unwavering gaze but he was determined to have you lock eyes with him. If he wasn’t going to approach you, getting to see your eyes for the first time in a while would mean the world to him.

“You’re looking a bit menacing, brother.” Neteyam placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, staring in your direction as well with a small smile on his lips.

“Huh? Well, I guess it’s not menacing enough to have her look my way.” Lo’ak mumbled under his breath, earning a lighthearted chuckle from Neteyam who could only pat his shoulder before squeezing it.

“You don’t want to look menacing or creepy, you want to look apologetic.” Lo’ak glanced at Neteyam after hearing those words and he knew how right his brother was but how? how was he supposed to look more apologetic than he already feels?

“Just walk up to her and see what happens.” Yeah, easier said than done.

“I will tell you what will happen. I will go up there and make a fool of myself because one, I don’t really know what to tell her and two, she will ignore me either way and I absolutely deserve it after treating her like shit because of something she’s not even responsible of,”

Lo’ak was frustrated but he couldn’t exactly do anything about it or even let himself feel this frustration without guilt washing over him.

It must’ve been horrible for you. But enough of feeling bad for you, he knew that despite what could possibly happen, he still had to confront you one way or another.

“Good luck,” was all what Neteyam said before walking away to let his younger brother decide on what he was going to do.

Luck

“Shit, I’ll need plenty of that.” Lo’ak mumbled before heading towards you through the crowd.

You could see Lo’ak and Neteyam from the corner of your eyes, you weren’t blind or clueless. You knew the two were talking about you just based on their body language. How unsure Lo’ak seemed and how playful the older brother was being and despite the fact that you thought it was endearing, you were still very mad at Lo’ak, and rightfully so.

It took them a couple of minutes to finish their conversation before Lo’ak was walking towards you and in a state of panic, you let go of whatever was in your hand and started heading out of the crowd, to a more secluded area. Anything to get away from Lo’ak as soon as possible.

You didn’t dare to look back, footsteps fast and unfaltering as you walked deeper into the forest with Lo’ak right behind you. Maybe if you didn’t perceive him, he would magically disappear.

“If anything, you know I’m the fastest runner between you and I,” his voice was uncertain, as if he was testing waters while still half-chasing you and you completely ignored his words, very determined on getting him to get off your tail.

“Going deeper into the woods won’t make me lose sight of you,”

“Did your tail get prettier?” was he staring at your tail?

Lo’ak was taken aback when you abruptly came to a stop and whipped your head fast to look at him and he wishes he could take back every bad thing he’s done to you, he wishes he could undo the past few weeks but he can’t, and he certainly can’t erase the pain in your eyes, how utterly confused and broken you must be feeling now that he’s suddenly trying to talk to you again.

“Listen-“

“No, no- you will listen. Because clearly that’s not what you wanted to do for like a month.” Your index finger was almost in his face but he didn’t back away or flinch, he let you be as mad as you wanted to be.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve what you did to me. I was a good friend! I was patient and forgiving, I kept finding stupid excuses for your lame ass while you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were openly ignoring me for whatever reason!”

Lo’ak could tell you weren’t breathing properly while talking, and he wanted to hold your face and get you to calm down but touching you seemed off the table right now.

“And you come back and tell me my tail looks prettier?”

“I was just-“

“I’m still talking.” Your stern voice made him seal his lips shut, but he couldn’t help how his heart leapt a little in his chest. He had to fight the smile that was forming on his lips because he really didn’t want you to think he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I appreciate you telling me my tail looks prettier but that does not and will never compensate for how shitty you made me feel lately.” Your voice was less harsh and smaller. He could tell you were slowly letting the tough façade fall apart because you weren’t used to getting hurt this badly. It drained you so much having him hurt you like this, and it made Lo’ak drown deeper in the guilt.

“I know it won’t, but I promise it hurt me just as much.”

“Then why did you do it?” Eywa, he wishes he could tell you.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then we cant be friends again.” Your response was quick and dry. Lo’ak felt like he was quickly losing you the more he spoke and that absolutely terrified him.

“No, you don’t get it. If I tell you, I will lose you.”

“Is there anything to lose at this point?” Lo’ak was starting to realize how badly he fucked up the moment you said this.

“Wha- of course there is?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he stared down at you and for the first time, you weren’t glaring at him. Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears, breathing getting quicker by the second.

Lo’ak reached his hands towards your face to test the waters and when you didn’t flinch or pull away, just kept your eyes locked with his, he knew just how badly you needed to be held.

“Oh I’m so terrible, aren’t I?” He almost cooed at you, hands holding your face with his thumbs caressing your cheeks and your little nod before blinking some tears away.

“So… so terrible.” you nuzzled against his hand, a hiccup escaping your lips as you held back a sob.

“Eywa,” Lo’ak whispered, stepping a little closer to you so he could rest his forehead against yours. “You mean so much to me and it’s… terrifying.”

Your confusion only pushed him to continue, his nose brushing against yours and suddenly you were aware of how close—how intimate the position you were in. But you didn’t mind, your heart was racing yet you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away this time.

“If I mean so much to you, why hurt me?” your voice was small, almost too afraid to speak louder and ruin the moment.

“I thought hurting you would get you to hate me,” Lo’ak swallowed hard, eyes focused on your lips before staring right back at yours once again. “and you would realize that you deserve someone better than me.”

“And you think you have the right to choose for me?” your hands slowly moved up towards his shoulders and at first, he thought you were going to push him away. It wasn’t until he felt you press your body closer before wrapping your arms around his neck that he realized that you were doing the complete opposite.

“I chose you—Eywa chose you for me, and she is never wrong.” And you were right. As if your skin glowing in the dark wasn’t already beautiful, the forest decided to bless your moment even further.

Seeds of the sacred tree were floating all around you both, the pure spirits giving Lo’ak the reassurance and the tiny push he needed to finally close the distance between you two.

Your breath hitched when you felt his lips brush against yours, but you were growing impatient with the small amount of hesitance left in him.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt me again,” your words were hushed, breath quickening when you felt him pull you in closer by your hips.

“I promise.” the stars illuminated the sky and the night was threatening to get colder. But when Lo’ak was pulling you impossibly closer, your cheeks flushed with heat. His fingers traced the skin on your hipbone before digging in harshly, your sharp intake of breath making his eyes wander down to your lips once again.

“It’s unfair…“ your whisper caught him off guard and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before they rose high when your hands slid down to caress his arms, gently moving towards his chest to rest your hands there. You looked up at him through your lashes, and if Lo’ak wasn’t aware of his feelings for you, he would think you were trying to make him fall deeper in love with every bit of you.

“What is unfair?”

“That you’re taking so long to kiss me,” your hands gently grabbed his face, holding his jaw to tilt his head down towards you. “I see you, Lo’ak.”

You didn’t need for him to say it in return—he wasn’t exactly able to with his lips pressed against yours in dizzying manner. You never thought you could grow more nervous around Lo’ak yet he seemed to have a knack for surprising you everytime, especially with his hands gripping the back of your thighs to pull you up and wrap your legs around his waist.

“I see—I see you too,” when he pulled away, panting from the kiss and eyes glazed with what appeared to be a mixture of lust and admiration, you could only squeeze your legs around his waist with a small smile.

“Already so out of breath?” your lips brushed against his nose in an endearing manner, fingers tracing his cheek to take in every little detail that made him who he is—yours.

“You dont know what you do to me,” he slowly backed you up against a tree, your cheeks flushing when you realized just how intimate the position you were in.

“Maybe I would like to find out,” Your teasing, your playful tone and your eyes that were clearly so lost in his, were constant reminders of how special he felt around you.

He, who had the honor of being your one and only, could only pray that Eywa approved of his love and devotion for you.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

#avatar: way of water #loak fluff #loak x you #loak x reader #avatar x reader #loak fanfiction #loak angst #loak headcanons #loak imagine #avatar loak #loak x y/n #moon's works

[teabutmakeitazure]

Pinprick in the Backdrop

The background is something you should always pay attention to.

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

>Warnings: not specified to avoid spoilers. please proceed with caution.

>Word count: ~15k (slow burn)

>a/n: proofread to the best of my capabilities. if there's any spelling error, pls ignore

There are always some people you see everyday without fail on the train. Some you find on your way to the station and in the train, some on the train, and some when you step out of it. Most of you have never talked to each other, but you recognise them. Even if the middle aged lady who always sits near the door of car 7 changed her hair colour completely.

You can still recognise them. Seeing their face isn’t a requirement. It’s their existence that matters. It’s especially funny when you call the teenagers by name on Halloween despite the costumes they’re wearing.

Perhaps you missed a great opportunity to go into criminology or become a detective. Maybe even a spy. However, what’s done is done. You can’t say you hate your job, so you suppose it’ll do as long as you’re able to live a comfortable life and send some money back home to your parents.

Speaking of money, your boss - or should you say the man who also overlooks the finance department - has been absent from work for two weeks. It’s the main reason why your salary this month hasn’t come in yet. Why they decided to not pay you all is a mystery, but why your boss has disappeared is a bigger mystery. The money you have left in your account isn’t enough for the entire month, so they better pay you all soon.

-

The penitence of innocents always baffles you. There was nothing you could have done, nothing you could have changed, so why? Why does the human conscience produce these feelings of guilt? Maybe it’s because you unconsciously recall times when you were cruel or times when you had ignored to cherish the moments.

At the end of the day, it’s puzzling feelings like these that make you human. Black jacket hugged closer to your body, you head back to your desk, shaking the mouse as you try to wake up the monitor. Your boss is dead. The reason why it took so long to confirm was because he died in a different country and his cell phone was destroyed.

Another mystery is why he flew to a different country on a weekend, and that too for just four days. He didn’t even have any family there. They all live here, so imagine their surprise when they find out his ‘business trip’ was actually a personal one. You don’t question why they didn’t bother to contact his workplace when he didn’t return.

Quite a lot has happened within the span of a few days. First there was the news of your boss being pronounced dead. That was followed by the memorial they had in the office, and lastly, your salaries finally came in. You can refresh your savings now.

Still, the radical change in circumstances you cannot get over. Your boss, the half bald guy whose biggest transgression was making jokes in poor taste, dead? The information you all were given is vague. He left for a different country, somewhere in the Mimbo Republic to be specific, from Yorbia, where you are. It’s not your job to dig into people’s business, but this seems too fishy because his family also refuses to utter a word.

Thus, like all women trying to find information on a man they are interested in, you turn to the internet. Scrounging through news articles of accidents and injury and deaths, you finally find a few noteworthy ones from the day he supposedly passed away.

The darkness in your bedroom adds to the suspense, light solely coming from your backlit keyboard and the open window. It doesn’t help that it’s past two in the morning, almost three, but you’re determined as you scan through descriptions of a ‘buy and sell’ gone wrong.

Two hundred people. That is how many died at that event.

To be fair, the entire administration and security also kicked the bucket, and the attendees were around one hundred according to the article. None of this still makes sense. Was your boss among those people? If yes, why would he be at such an event?

Scratch that, his family definitely knows something.

After spending a little less than an hour snooping around, you finally shut down your laptop and go under the covers. It’s understandable when sleep doesn’t come easily.

-

The commute to work was the same as usual. The only difference was that one of the girls in your neighbourhood was nowhere to be seen on the train. Maybe she skipped school today. Despite the ordinary day, you are in no mood to entertain when familiar footsteps grow closer and closer to your desk.

“Hi, [Name]!”

You wish you left the building for lunchtime after all.

“You’re not going out for lunch?”

With the most uninterested face you can make, you shrug, eyes not leaving the monitor. If he gets the hint, he leaves.  If he doesn’t… you’ll just excuse yourself and leave.

“So you’re not eating?” He’s behind you now, eyes fixed onto your monitor as he tries to make sense of the gibberish. “Your work requires a lot of thinking. You should eat something.”

“Not right now,” you sigh. “I have a whole hour left. I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

You know what this guy is doing. His engagement recently went wrong when he found out his ex-fiance was cheating on him, and now he’s seeking out someone to fill the hole. Quite literally in his case, but whatever. Perhaps you would have given him the time of day if he wasn’t so obvious and desperate… or if you ever bothered to remember his name.

It’s worse when you remember that you didn’t recognise him after the break-up. Chills. That’s what you felt. It’s best to keep your distance. He isn’t the same guy who gushed about the love of his life 24/7. There’s something unstable around him.

“Well, whenever you feel like it, just shoot me a text.” His hands grab the edge of your backrest, just millimetres away from touching your back. “I want to treat you to lunch.”

Closing the tab and opening another one, you voice your response. “Sorry, but I brought food from home. I’ll be eating that.”

“Oh.” he sounds disappointed. “No worries. I’ll treat you some other time then.”

Note to self. Bring lunch from home everyday from now on. If that’ll help keeping him off your back then so be it.

-

It has now been two weeks since your boss’ memorial was held. His replacement has already been hired, but you can’t bring yourself to bother too much. Some of your coworkers have started cozying up to him and buttering him up which is intimidating the poor man. Workplace politics is something you could never have prepared yourself for.

Another thing you couldn’t have prepared yourself for is adulthood. Why is it so hard to choose what to eat? You can’t live off of takeout because it’s not healthy, and whenever you fail to finish eating the fruits you got before they go bad makes you feel like more of a failure. Thus, with great determination, you end up buying half a dozen apples.

If you eat one daily, you’ll finish them all in under a week. More items are added to your trolley and when you finally exit the self-service checkout, you roll your shoulders, readjust your backpack, manoeuvre the plastic bags into a more comfortable position, and begin the walk home.

It’s nighttime, just one hour away from the shops closing. You know you’re safe because almost all of the people you are familiar with. There are only some here and there who you haven’t seen before, but they’re all normal.  It’s evident from the way ‘it’ is stable around them. ‘It’ is light and calm. 

After a fifteen minute walk, you’re at your apartment building. Unfortunately, you wasted too much time walking around after you got off work and now you’ll have to eat dinner late. Well, it’s not like your sleep schedule is fixed anyway. Another day of sleeping late shouldn’t hurt. It’s the weekend now anyway.

-

It is on this wonderful Saturday afternoon that you realise you don’t have friends. Clarification. You don’t have friends where you live.

After graduating, all of your friends either stayed in the same city or moved away somewhere else entirely. None of them came here, or anywhere in Yorbia for that matter. It’s realisations like these that force you to ponder over your future. What are you going to do? What’s your aim? 

Before, it was to graduate and get a decent job. Now that you have that, what now?

With the lack of ice cream in your freezer, maybe you should start with procuring dessert. What about takeout as well? You could go for an evening walk, watch the sunset and get food for dinner altogether. That sounds nice.

Laptop turned on, you type in the address of a shady website and start browsing through the movie catalogue. Today, you will relax. Having hours of screen time isn’t a good idea, but it’s the weekend. Mistakes don’t count.

-

Maybe I should get mama and papa to move in with me after papa retires. That’s your thought when you head to the supermarket to get ice cream with takeout in hand. Getting food before ice cream wasn’t the best idea since it’ll be cold by the time you get home, but what’s done is done.

Life is lonely here. Sitting at home, alone, eating takeout and ice cream out of the tub while shows you’ve rewatched more than five times play on the TV. Maybe you should make some friends, but where?

Your workplace doesn’t have anyone, let alone any girl, your age. You also haven’t met anyone you wanted to be friends with. They’re all blended into the familiar background.

Paying with your card, you leave the self-service checkout counter and ready yourself for the walk back home. It’s more fun when you’re leaving the house for a walk, not the other way around.

Still, you take in the people around you like you do all the time. Most people you know, you recognise.  You’ve been seeing them for so long. There are always a few who are a little odd as ‘it’ is a little unruly around them, like your notorious coworker. However, ‘it’ is still light and faint but most importantly familiar. That’s the most comforting thing about it. The familiarity is what’s important.

So imagine the surprise and utter shock you feel when ‘it’ is as dark as the night sky around a stranger you have never seen before.

The darkest you have ever seen is something similar to how dark yellow is compared to pure white. So seeing something as contrasting as jet black to white, you can’t help it when the bags fall from your hand and onto the ground.

You’re frozen on the spot, mouth hung open as you stare wide eyed at the stranger who stands just a few metres ahead of you. He doesn’t notice at first, too busy speaking over the phone to pay attention, but when his eyes fall onto you, they’re slow and knowing, like he’s been aware of your gaze since you saw him among the others around you.

A few deep, trembling breaths, and you grab the bags off the ground and dash by him as fast as you can without it seeming too obvious you saw something. This time you do not pause to soak in the familiarity of the surroundings. Your only goal is to get home.

-

Bringing lunch from home is starting to get tiring. You have to wake up earlier and pack leftovers as well as make sure you have leftovers or cook something the night before in case you don’t. All because some weirdo who’s hung up on his ex can’t take a hint. To be fair you don’t have the guts to outright say no as well.

Maybe you should work on that.

Today, you decided to take a walk on the pier near your apartment building. It’s also a fifteen minute walk away since it’s close to the supermarket. Nevertheless, you sit down on a bench and just watch the water. 

It’s soothing, being idle like this. God, you really need a break.

Families and couples who you usually see around walk about the area. There’s something so special about this. This comfortable bubble you’ve created. Sure, you’re lonely with most of your social interaction being the neighbourhood kids or the teenagers on the train, but it’s all so comfortable.

It’s warm. Maybe you should ask your parents to visit. They’d like it here. The accessible sea and half middle aged or above population would be something they’d like.

The sun has gone down now, and the moon has started to become visible. So, with reluctance to let go of the passing time, you get up, backpack once again on your shoulders, and start the walk back home. Maybe you should also get an actual bag instead of using the one you did in university. You know, something that’s more feminine.

Regardless, as long as this one works, you’ll use it. No need to get a replacement if the thing isn’t destroyed yet. Wait, scratch that. Should you get more ice cream? Brownies maybe? The supermarket is right here and they have a section for freshly baked items. The brownies were amazing when you last got them.

You abruptly turn on your heel, completely determined to get what you are now suddenly craving. One step forward and you collide with something, getting pushed back a few steps from the force of whatever kind of brick it was. Barely are you able to regain your balance. Had you fallen, your laptop would not have survived.

You raise your head to look at what it was you walked into, ready to curse while there are no children around, but are completely frozen when you see him again. ‘It’ is large, so much more prominent and stronger than what you have seen in all the years you’ve lived. It’s like it’s protecting him, gently swirling around him like a protective layer.

It’s menacing, to say the least. You have no strength to utter a single word when the stranger steps closer to you, tilting his head as he inspects you for any injuries.

Or at least that’s what you think he’s doing.

You’re absolutely horrified at how ‘it’ seems to dissipate as he steps closer, the presence of it almost completely gone. It’s now as noticeable as it is for everyone, but you can still see the darkness of ‘it’. No way does it help that you can now also feel the mancing aura it has.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking at him, you come back to the present situation, the background noises coming back to invade your senses. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, and your chest feels extremely heavy. Why is it so hard to breathe?

“Ah, it seems like the collision stunned you. It’s okay. I apologise for bumping into you.” The stranger smiles, and it causes bile to rise up your throat. You don’t like how he’s still looking at you like that. Like he’s looking for something.

“Hello? Are you alright, miss? Really, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckles. You, on the other hand, fail to see what’s so humorous.

It takes a few more seconds to compose yourself, but your heart still beats loudly, spelling out the letters R-U-N in bold capital letters. However, social etiquette forces you to take a deep breath, bow, and voice your apology.

The stranger fails to get another word in before you awkwardly fast walk away with the nagging memory of the bandage covering his forehead and dark bangs messily falling over them.

-

Today, you walk home from the train station as fast as you can. The encounter yesterday has shook you to the core, and until you don’t see this stranger for a month straight, you will not cease the hurried travel back home.

Whoever this man is, you do not want to be within even a 10 metre radius of him. Something is definitely off about him, and in your experience the darker ‘it’ is, the worse person they are. You just don’t know what ‘it’ as dark as his means.

Nevertheless, fate likes to throw a pie on your face and laugh at you because he’s standing right outside your apartment building.

Fuck. That’s your only thought. Maybe you’ll hang around the neighbourhood or walk on the pier until he leaves. Yeah. better make yourself scarce. Unfortunately, fate throws another pie because when you turn your back and start quietly walking away, he notices you and calls out.

The bastard calls out to you.

Oh fuck me, you think. So much for not wanting to see him again. What does he even want? Does he want to know why you look at him like you’ve seen the man murder people countless times before?

“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing your evening,” he says as he jogs up to you. How he noticed you while you were literally a building away you do not know. “I saw you leave this building in the morning, so I figured you live here. I’m sorry for intruding like this.”

‘It’ is still barely there like yesterday. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel the suffocating aura he has. Awkwardly, you sputter out a greeting. “Oh uh, h-hi.” The bandages aren’t there today, but those Godforsaken earrings are still there and his forehead is still covered by a hat. Does he have a receding hairline he doesn’t want to show?

He’s smiling at you, and you’re now noticing how wide and innocent looking his eyes are.

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Again, I’m sorry about the collision yesterday.”

You look at him for a few more seconds, heart beating erratically in your chest. “[Name]. And it’s okay. It was an accident on my part as well.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, eyes fixed on you and giving you his full attention. “Ah, that’s a lovely name. A lovely name for a lovely lady.”

You have never cringed this hard in years. Still, you force yourself to awkwardly laugh just to be polite and attempt to cut the conversation short. There’s no reason you should stick around. It’s utterly pointless and risky considering how his mere presence makes you feel.

“Excuse my forwardness,” Chrollo says, “but I was wondering if there are any good restaurants here I can try. I’m staying here at a hotel nearby until I find a proper accommodation, so I was hoping you could give me some recommendations.”

You open your mouth to say something just to stop short of any sound exiting your mouth. What comes next is an apology. Be useless to him. Don’t give him any reason to seek you out again. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t lived here long enough to know.” Wait, that makes it sound like I just moved here which makes me an easy target if he’s a serial killer. “No- what I mean is that I’ve lived here for a while but I usually cook, so I’m afraid I haven’t explored the food here. I only get takeout from the restaurant behind the supermarket nearby.”

Grey eyes blink at you, the gaze attentive. The corners of his lips are still turned upwards, and his lips slowly part to allow him to speak. Everything seems more detailed. You can’t wait to shrug him off.

“If I may, I’d love to explore the food here with you.”

Fuck. Did I just get asked out? No no. Be realistic. He just needs someone to cling to in this new environment or he’s a serial killer trying to make you lower your guard. You sigh. Whichever it is, you refuse his offer regardless. “I’m sorry, Chrollo.” The fall of his smile is instant. It’s almost creepy. “I don’t plan on eating out too much. I enjoy cooking, so I’d like to stick to cooking as much as I can.” Seriously. What is it with men and taking you out to eat? “Thank you for the offer though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to get ho-”

“I don’t mind cooking together as well.”

“...” What? There’s no way he just said that to you.

“If you prefer cooking, I have no issues with cooking together.” He’s still looking at you, expectantly this time, and you feel like the ground beneath your feet is crumbling away. Why can’t men take a hint?

“Ah, I really should get home soon. Isasmo must be waiting for me. I promised him I’d be home early.”

“Isasmo?”

“Mhm.” You’re shaking your head now. The presence of a man awaiting your return or curious about your whereabouts always works. “He gets very worried if I don’t get home on time. I don’t want him to worry, so if you’ll excuse me…”

Chrollo chuckles. Closing his eyes, he gently shakes his head. The loss of his gaze is short lived, but when it’s back, it cuts through your being. “Sorry for keeping you. I didn’t know you had someone waiting for you at home.”

Like earlier, your heart starts beating in your ears. How he’s keeping you on edge you have no idea. It’s maddening. “Alright. I’ll be heading home now.”

He smiles. “No ‘see you later’?”

Because I don’t want to see you later! “Goodbye!” With that, you dash past him and quickly enter the comfort of your apartment building without looking back. Honestly, you should start coming home at different times. Just to throw him off in case he swings by again.

-

Today, you discovered that your other coworkers are ‘talking’. Due to your sad lack of friends, you have no way of getting in on what’s going on, so you’ve resorted to hanging around corners whenever you hear someone talking or walking around with headphones on so that people think you can’t hear them.

Oh you can definitely hear them.

After a few days of gathering information you have learnt that the coworker who has still not given up on his pursuit of taking you out for lunch is acting a bit weird. Honestly, you called it way back. The day his engagement broke, he started acting differently.

You know because you can see with your own eyes at a glance instead of having to rely on long term observation. It also doesn’t help that ‘it’ has become slightly darker. It’s no way as dark as Chrollo’s, but it is noticeable enough to be discernible.

Speaking of Chrollo, why is he at the pier? No, scratch that. Why is he looking at you?

Quickly, as to not make it seem suspicious, you grab your phone from your pocket, press it to your ear, and start acting like you just accepted a call. With that legendary tactic that got you out of countless social interactions in university, you turn on your heel and start walking in the opposite direction.

When confirmed that he isn’t following after you and is nowhere to be seen, you pocket the device and continue on your merry way. The wind is chilly, the moon is hiding bashfully behind a cloud, and a tub of ice cream has been picked up.

Goods in hand, you arrive at your apartment. It doesn’t surprise you that midnight comes quickly. It is only after the clock shows 12: 30 am that you release the unhealthy snack for the night from the freezer and sit in the extremely poorly lit bedroom and stare at your laptop screen.

This time, however, you aren’t gaming, only browsing through more than eleven opened tabs (you lost count after eleven) and growing more puzzled by the minute. The incident that may have led to your boss’ death is gaining attention, especially on the conspiracy theory websites. Some say that the entire thing was a result of the mafia’s activities, while some claim that a notorious band of thieves did that to steal everything.

You have no evidence or trails that your boss died while participating in that ‘buy and sell’, whatever that means, but it sure does make you suspicious because you recently found out one thing. His body wasn’t recovered.

The more you think about it the worse it gets. Despite not wanting to, you’ve doom scrolled for so long that you’ve ended up on a five year old conspiracy theory post claiming that a group called ‘The Phantom Troupe’ goes around the world stealing stuff. The comments are mostly people confirming it, some even claiming to be hunters and saying that it’s true and common knowledge among hunters.

If they’re that dangerous and destructive, why doesn’t the Hunter’s Association take action? It’s all just a bluff or an exaggeration. 

Lights all off, you get up to place your laptop onto your desk, but catch sight of something moving in the corner of your eye. It was barely there, something black or dark, but knowing that you left your living room window open, you simply sigh.

It’s completely quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you can hear your own breathing. Setting aside the fact that the awareness forces you to have to manually breathe, you slam the window shut but rest your forehead against the cool glass. Eyes stare down at the empty neighbourhood, and you start wondering how you got here.

It sometimes feels like a dream. Highschool feels like just a few weeks ago, and yet here you are. It’s surreal. 

Five minutes of reminiscence are all you allow yourself, hands promptly grabbing the deep green curtains and drawing them just to freeze when you catch sight of something shining right behind you for just one moment. Turning your head around at an unholy speed only gives you neck pain because there’s nothing there.

Curse you conspiracy theorists. You will be extremely mad if you have a nightmare or lose sleep.

-

Your coworker didn't show up today. It almost makes you feel sad because you can get lunch from outside without having to deal with him. Ah, but the food you brought…

Nevermind. You'll eat it at home. Shoving the lunchbox back into your bag, you grab your wallet and head to the elevator. Headphones are on like usual in hopes of catching any stray gossip from around you.

Oh and do you catch a big one. Your coworker isn't replying to any texts or calls. He's ignoring everyone. The guy from accounting said in the elevator that he might be hungover since he has a drinking habit. Honestly, you should try and advance your relationships with these people from simple greetings. They’re better information sources than the news.

Nevertheless, you breathe a sigh of relief, merrily heading outside the building to head to the little hole in the wall restaurant you've been eyeing for a while.

The streets are busy as usual, almost everyone's lunch hours overlapping at this particular moment, so it isn't a surprise that you bump into a few people while trying to make your way. Although… it is a surprise when you bump straight into Chrollo.

Headphones are promptly pulled down to hang around your neck, and you brace yourself to visually deal with the pressing feeling that’s constricting your chest. ‘It’ is there but the comfort of the crowd allows you to deal with it with less effort.

You still don’t know why he’s like that. You don’t know why ‘it’ is like that around him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “we should really stop bumping into each other.”

It’s the middle of the day and he’s dressed like he’s going to a funeral. Long black coat, black hat extending over his forehead, black button down, black dress pants, black-

What the actual hell are those shoes? Is that big yellow thing a nail that was screwed in? What the fu-

“Is something the matter?” Head tilted to meet your downward gaze, Chrollo’s expectantly looking into your eyes. There’s a moment of silence between you both, but you fill it with action as you move to the side to not take up space on the street.

With a very noticeable deep breath, you sigh. “Nothing’s wrong.” Something is wrong. His thing around him is creeping you out and making you uncomfortable. “I’m just a little tired.” Make yourself seem uninterested. You don’t particularly like this guy, remember?

He nods. “I see.” A pause and the dreaded question is voiced. “Do you work somewhere around here?”

“Yes,” you reply simply.

“Is it your lunch break?”

“Yes…” you hesitate.

“Perfect.” Like how your luck with the male human specimen has always been, Chrollo proceeds to utter the most undesirable string of words. “If you haven’t eaten, I would love for you to join me for lunch. I found a restaurant and was heading there just now.”

Despite knowing it’s hard to get out of this, you still try. “Ah, actually, I only came for a walk. I brought food with myself.”

“It won’t go bad,” he negotiates. “Please. Just this once at least. I promise you’ll have fun.”

Chrollo’s voice is light, cheerful when he says that. You are tempted, but still want to go where you were originally heading. Maybe you could sneak to the restaurant you wanted after shaking him off somehow. But before that, just to confirm what he has in mind, you ask him where.

And being the joke that your luck is, it decides to practise its humour right now because he took the name of the restaurant you were heading to. It also doesn’t help that your eyes widened and Chrollo commented on it, saying that he ‘caught you’. Screw luck. Screw having your way. Life is just a horrible comedy show with dad jokes and shitty puns coming one after another.

A while later, you are seated across from a man who has broken the record of most uncomfortable you have ever been. This time, however, ‘it’ isn’t what’s making you uncomfortable. It’s the way he looks at you like he knows something or is trying to know something.

You hate to admit it but after spending more than five minutes in his presence, you’ve gotten used to the suffocating feeling.

Even if you would rather not be desensitised to it.

It’s quiet between you both, Chrollo choosing to observe you shamelessly while you try your utmost best to avoid looking at him or showing that you’ve noticed his blatant gaze. It’s not busy in here, so that doesn’t help either. Phone in your hand, you scroll through social media apps, tapping away countless stories of people out and about.

The silence got comfortable, but he opened his mouth.

“I forgot to ask,” he says, voice low, “what do you work as?”

Your eyes briefly flit up to meet his but return to the screen immediately. “Data analyst.”

“Data analyst? You must be quite intelligent,” he chuckles.

“If crying through eight semesters of school is smart, then I suppose so.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks. “You got through it though. I count that as smart.”

Is he trying to flatter me? “Is that so?” You close the app and open a different one, indifference dripping from your tone. “What about you then? You didn’t say anything about yourself. For all I know, you could be a serial killer.” Fuck. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, he laughs. The bastard laughs. “I’m afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. I’m not a serial killer. I am, however, a fan of the arts.”

You remove your eyes from your phone screen, looking up at him even with your head tilted downwards. “You don’t look the part.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Those in STEM are all weirdos,” you state. Eyes move back to your phone, and you’re briefly reminded of the awkward lunches and dinners you went through during freshman year when you didn’t have friends. “The arts ones are pretentious. You look sophisticated, more like a theatre kid.”

Forearms now resting on the table, Chrollo leans towards you, an action you do not notice. “I’m quite sure that sophisticated and pretentious are synonyms, and even if they aren’t, they’re similar enough to be.”

You sigh. “‘A pretentious person works at the appearance of things. They want the appearance of substance, while either not understanding or not caring about actual substance. Sophistication, on the other hand, implies an authentic accumulation of knowledge and/or experience, and the ability to apply those things in advanced ways.’”

“...”

“That’s what an internet search says.” You look up, eyes slowly rising to meet his, but are startled when you see him considerably closer than earlier. He’s leaning forward, and out of instinct, you lean backwards. “So,” you continue, albeit nervously, “you’re wrong.”

Unfazed, he chuckles. “That means you think I have ‘authentically accumulated knowledge’. Why, I’m flattered.”

Again, you physically cringe with a crinkled nose at his smile and tone. “I’m only stating my observation. There are no intentions behind it.”

“Still,” Chrollo smiles, “you did think positively of me-”

“Food’s here!” He stops speaking immediately at your interruption, only shaking his head a little when you start eating. There’s not much time left for your break, so you’d rather get done with it and get back as fast as you can. 

Not having the luxury of savouring the food to your desire is sad, but you don’t think about it. ‘Next time for sure,’ you tell yourself. The fact that Chrollo didn’t let you pay for your portion just makes you want to get takeout next time. At least you won’t stare at him in horror again.

Even if slowly being desensitised to ‘it’ isn’t a preferable outcome.

-

Good news is that you haven’t seen Chrollo for a little more than a week. Bad news is that you haven’t seen your coworker for a little more than a week.

If you had a jenny for whenever a superior at work disappeared for more than one week, you’d have two jennys. That isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. There’s got to be some kind of haunting going on. First your boss, then him? Another coworker? Another superior?

Sure, it’s been more peaceful without him here, but you don’t want another person to end up missing just to be pronounced dead. Neither is it good for the company’s reputation, nor is it good for the work environment. There’s already been word spreading around that they’ve started looking for his replacement.

Maybe that’s smart. Maybe… because not even the police have found any leads on his whereabouts yet. His entire apartment is just as it was, dirty laundry in the laundry basket, his phone and wallet still on his nightstand, bed not made, food left to cool still on the kitchen counter…

It’s a little eerie if you think about it.

Scratch that, it’s downright creepy. Where could he have gone? They even found half drunk bottles of different alcoholic drinks on his dining table. Did he get drunk and run off somewhere? Where could he have gone? Did he… get killed?

You have no idea of what’s going on. That is why you, being the detective that you are, have your laptop open in front of you at 1 a.m. as you scrounge the internet for any missing persons cases from this town. So far nothing noteworthy is coming up, the most being missing girls but nothing about a grown man disappearing to never be heard back from or seen again.

An hour or two of more searching bears no fruit and an additional hour of trying to sleep is rewardless. With great annoyance, you get up and throw on the biggest coat you own, something dark grey that almost reaches your ankles. Grabbing your keys and phone, you make the most foolish decision to take a walk at what you think is probably four in the morning.

The pier is silent. The only person you saw was a police officer on his bike drinking a hot cup of coffee.

It’s empty too, and cold. Is the nighttime really so serene? Hands are shoved into your pockets and your feet bring you to your destination on their own. It feels like walking on cotton, yet it doesn’t feel bad. It somehow feels soothing.

The empty pier’s cool wind blows through your hair. Enjoying this kind of loneliness is somewhat of a liberating experience. Did your missing coworker seek out something like this before he went missing? Did he want to feel the kiss of the cool late night wind on his cheeks? You lean over to look at the waves below, hair cascading around your face. You are met with the reflection of the starry night sky, and it isn’t long before you pull back.

Fifteen minutes of waddling around are all you allow yourself before pulling yourself back home. The keychains jingle when you turn the key in the keyhole, breathing a sigh of relief when you are finally back inside. Your feet immediately take you to your bedroom, hands grabbing the coat and throwing it to the nearest surface, and you immediately jump under the covers.

Face meeting something pink and smiling, you sigh again. “Goodnight Isasmo.” The pink axolotl’s smile remains and you cuddle the plushie before snuggling into the bed’s warmth. You hope sleep comes easy.

-

Three weeks. It has now been three weeks since your coworker has been missing. He has now been promoted to ‘missing person’ and his face, along with his cinnamon(?) hair, is now on every other newspaper or screen. It has also been three weeks since you last saw Chrollo, but you aren’t bothered by that. It’s actually a good sign. Never seeing him again is a favourable outcome.

Regardless, your coworker’s name is now permanently etched into your memory. Raaz Olen. That's his name. He has no direct family left, parents having passed away around a decade ago, and the only sibling alive is an older sister who wants nothing to do with him. It's a sad background if you think about it.

You sigh, turning off the computer screen before rubbing your eyes. Life has been uneventful these days. The most exciting thing you recently did was video chat with your old friends. Your best friend, the one who is about to replace your position in her life, suggested downloading a dating app because according to her you need some ‘action’. Were the eight semesters of action not enough? What’s so wrong with peace?

Yet in a moment of weakness, you caved into the idea and committed the act. A cropped group photo to show your arm awkwardly cropped out was uploaded and now there have been quite a few messages and matches. This unfortunate experience has only further proved why you say you have bad luck with the male human specimen. Their first move is to ask about your past relationships, and being salty over their shamelessness, you recount in detail just how agonising it was to be in love with what only hurt you back, to pine after what only reduced you to tears.

You deliberately left out the part that the object of your desire was your degree. At the very least, their uninterested replies were entertaining. Ah, such laughable insecurity. The app will go when you’ve had your fun. Until then, you suppose you’ll use it as a last ditch resort for entertainment.

If you do end up scoring a free dinner… well, no. You would rather not risk a date with a serial killer or worse, someone who wants a second date. The chances are slim, but never zero.

Another notification from the app dings, and you briefly check your phone to see a notification from someone who matched with you. There’s a “Hey! You’re very pretty,” as his message, and you almost scoff at the repetition. The amount of times you have been called ‘pretty’ by strangers on this app is laughable. Did they fall short of words? Maybe that’s just the standard compliment in the world of men.

You end up placing your phone face down, ignoring any following dings, and get back to work. There is only one hour left until you get to go home, and you would prefer not to leave this task for tomorrow to complete.

-

An old lady you see everyday on the train on your way back passed away. Despite having only exchanged greetings with her a few times and carried her bags for her at least a dozen times, you felt oddly sad when you heard of her death. Yes, you only knew her name and that her kids, her three sons, never called after moving away, but you felt like something had been taken when you heard.

Not something big but something small. Something you would not be bothered with by being gone but something you would definitely notice and feel the absence of. You took a day off to attend her funeral since it was hosted by the old age home she was living in, yet you ended up taking a day off after that as well.

Three boys, three men, lost a mother that day and none bothered to show up.

-

“Okay mama. I’ll pick you guys up from the airport. No, I don’t own a car. We’ll get a cab- it’s perfectly safe here! You’re not going to get mugged on the way from the airport, relax!”

More fretting comes from the other side, and you simply continue stirring the soup. The worries aren’t what annoys you. It’s the panic.

After around ten more minutes of reassurance, the call is disconnected and your soup is ready. It’s been a month since Raaz went missing, yet you cannot say you have moved on. It bothers you that a man like him can just vanish. Also, seeing his replacement walk around the office simply makes it worse. You prefer a person who would make you uncomfortable with interactions because of how ‘it’ seems to be rather than a person whose eyes wander where they aren’t supposed to.

Alas, on this fine Friday evening, soup has been cooked and a plan for your parents to visit you at the end of the year has been made. Your father agreed to use his annual leave to come visit you, and the only thing left is for the tickets to be purchased. If they like it here, you could convince them to move here! Maybe even look into your father working at the same place as you.

All is going according to plan! Now what to do about the guy who keeps pestering you to meet up…

You switch apps on your phone to see that he’s sent another few messages, mainly asking if you’re free this weekend. If you consider the sleep you need to catch up on and the show you want to binge, then you have no free time. Besides that, you really don’t feel like going out on a date. Should you just uninstall the app? Messing with the people you matched with has gotten tiresome. Perhaps you should.

Thus, with a few taps to your screen, your account on the application is deleted and the application itself is uninstalled. Honestly, you consider that a job well done. That calls for a reward; the reward being a coupon that can be redeemed anytime which grants you permission to do one stupid thing.

You know you would do the stupid thing regardless, but having a sort of system like that makes you feel less guilty when facing the consequences.

-

Being pulled into an alleyway with a hand firmly planted onto your mouth is not what you ever could have expected to happen to you on this Monday afternoon. Maybe your condemnation for toying with all those men on the dating app has caught up or maybe it’s one of those men here to force you to accept his advances.

Either way, you did not expect to start crying first thing when in a situation like this.

A hand strokes your arm, attempting to soothe you, as the other remains over your mouth. You can feel your assailant’s body heat and his breath over your ear when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Be quiet and it’ll be painless for both of us,” he says.

You furiously nod, sensing the threat, and he immediately lets go. Legs promptly spring to run, but the hand grabbing your arm renders your efforts futile. It is when your struggling ends in you falling onto the ground and him twisting your arm behind your back painfully that you relax, repeatedly tapping the dirty ground with your palm to show that you give up.

There are no faces that come to mind when you think of who you could've angered to this point, so the surprise that floods your blood vessels when you see Raaz’s face under the black hoodie makes you almost dizzy. His hair is dirty and unkempt, facial hair clearly not maintained as he was always clean shaved, and there’s a wildness to his eyes. You try your best to not pay attention to how ‘it’ is darker than before. You liken the difference to how dark brown is compared to beige, but you realise that ‘it’ is more menacing than it ever was.

Raaz is clearly unstable, yet you yourself can’t stop shaking from the lingering adrenaline.

“Stay quiet and listen to me,” he orders. “I need a place to hide. [Name], you have to help me. You will help me.”

Hide? What does he need to hide from? You dust off your clothes as you stand, a groan leaving your throat when the soreness in your arm makes itself known. He immediately grabs it again, afraid you’d run, but let’s go when you angrily shrug it off. “What happened to you?” you ask. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“I will be if you don’t help me.”

Taken aback, you try to think over the situation. Raaz, someone who you always thought was or had the potential to be unstable, is here, clearly frazzled and on the run from something or someone, and wants you to help him hide. What does he want? To stay at your apartment? Risk your life for him?

“I-if it’s that bad,” you start, voice already shaking, “I can’t help you.” The betrayal on his face makes ‘it’ stronger, and you freeze, barely able to get your words out. “If you’re not able to hide in such a big city, I-I don’t- I don’t think you’ll be safe anywhere I can keep you.”

Raaz grits his teeth, his hoodie now pulled down to reveal dirty cinnamon hair, and takes a step forward. Out of fear, and to maintain distance, you take one back but panic when you’re unable to lift your feet. One glance down and you see something shiny protruding from the ground wrapped around your ankles. It broke pavement to crawl around your feet and now they’re stuck to the ground.

You gasp when two arms settle on your shoulders firmly. With a shaky breath, you gather the courage to look up into Raaz’s crazed eyes, all colour draining from your face when his hands grab your face instead. Nails dig into your cheeks, harshly tugging it closer to his. When you retaliate by clawing at his wrists, he simply grabs your hair instead.

Tugging the strands, your head is pulled back, neck exposed. You can see him breathing heavily, ‘it’ growing more erratic and frightening. Like all rabbits stuck in a trap, you thrash, attempting to free yourself from his grip, to miraculously free your feet and be able to run into the safety of the public street.

“You-” he pauses, eyes widening. Your hair is immediately let go of, and he whips his head at record speed, looking over his shoulder. The panic is oozing from his countenance, hands shaking and lips trembling. You think you’re looking at a man running away from death just to be caught up with at every corner and turn.

Curses spill from his mouth, and he turns completely. You feel the grip on your feet loosening, and taking the opportunity, you pry your feet out of the grip. Raaz has still turned his back to you, head moving as he searches for something. When he does not react to your escape from your restraints, you run.

A hand barely grabs your hair again, but you are out of the alleyway before his pursuit is successful. Feet hastily take you back to the office building, and the first thing you do is run to the nearest bathroom. No one is inside, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, letting all tears escape from your eyes before you wash your face and fix your appearance. The adrenaline is still in your system, and you’re left not knowing what to do.

How the hell is Raaz still alive? And what is he running from? Why does he have a target on his back?

You do not know him beyond a coworker who was not over his relationship ending. Who knows? Maybe his ex-fiance did what she did because she found something out and didn’t want to risk staying with him.

Either way, you can’t get the look he had on his face out of your mind. 

-

Embarrassment is all you can feel when you exit the police station with a ‘call emergency services if you see him again’. Why don’t they understand that you might not be alive to call emergency services if you see him again? Bitterness is in your mouth as you hop on the train to get home. It’s dark now, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t scared.

You honestly don’t know what you did wrong to have gotten caught up in all that. Regardless, you’re looking over your shoulder as you walk home from the station, adrenaline coursing through you as you make your way through. It’s when you’re home and have checked all the rooms and windows that you breathe a sigh of relief.

Whatever the hell happened, happened. You’ll keep emergency services on speed dial and try your best to dial them if anything happens again.

If only sleep comes easy after all this.

-

It’s been a week since your encounter with Raaz. Today is Tuesday, the previous week’s Monday being the fateful day. You’ve since been bringing lunch from home like before and find it a little funny how Raaz is the one who’s making you bring leftovers again. 

Anyway, to the matter at hand. Someone’s been inside your apartment.

You can tell because you left a pencil lead in the gap between the door and door frame of your closed bedroom door. It was still closed when you got home, but the pencil lead was broken and on the floor which is something that could not have happened unless someone opened the door with the lead still in the gap.

You had been doing that ever since the incident with Raaz and today is the day your paranoia proved to have grounds. Now what are you supposed to do? Live with the information that someone has been inside your home?

Isasmo stares at you from under the covers, his dopy black eyes peeking out. You’ve checked the rest of your apartment and other than Isasmo and you, there is no one. Or at least no one you are aware of. Maybe you should look into moving.

Should you inform the police? Maybe you should, but what would you say? “I was paranoid so I put pencil lead in the gap between my door like a psychopath and guess what? It was broken when I got home! I’m being stalked!” They might laugh at you or place you under observation, the latter of which is preferable.

You end up sucking up the courage and going to file a report, a picture of the broken pencil lead on the ground being your only piece of evidence. It’s an uneventful walk, one where you are completely alert and looking over your shoulder as you get to the nearest station. After being ridiculed for being ‘delusional’ and ‘overthinking’, they agree to file a report and ‘look into it’ when threatened to find your dead body in your apartment one day. Seriously, what does a girl have to do to be believed? Die? 

You shake your head on the way home as you think over your conversation at the police station. The older officers ridiculed you but thankfully a younger one got them to at least file a report. Though you’ve been told you’ll be contacted if their investigation yields results, you doubt there will be one to begin with. Well, at least the pencil lead was intact when you got home. That is a relief.

-

It’s been a little more than a week since you filed a report at the police station and none of your pencil leads have been broken again. You would have thought the first one to break might’ve been done by something else had you not noticed that you’re almost out of pencil lead. You had counted 7 in the package just this morning and now there are 4…

Who’s messing with you? Do they think it’s funny? What if you’re paranoid? Are you sure you counted properly?

A sigh leaves your lips as you drop backwards onto the bed. Is this really what you have been reduced to? Curse whoever is doing this. The police have not contacted you again, so you went there yourself today and they said they didn’t find anything. As if they actually searched.

It makes you mad, yet you can’t do anything. Since there hasn’t been anything besides the pencil leads in the closed doors’ gaps, you chalk it up to suspicion. Whether you are delusional or the authorities, only time can tell.

-

Work has been slow lately, and you are reminded every single day of how boring your life has become. There has been no new gossip circulating and your attempts at making any new friends have not bore fruit. Your old friends have also started contacting you less as they’re busy in their own lives. Sure, you hardly have time yourself with how your job takes up two thirds of your day but you also don’t have a social life. That’s why you basically have nothing to do besides work and binge watch stuff.

Goodness, are you turning into your father? The temptation to download the dating app again whispers into your ear sometimes, but you fight it. You will only do so when you are seriously looking for someone, not when you are looking for fun. 

Bag on your shoulders, you pocket your phone and head to the elevator. Despite the fact that there isn’t much work, it’s dark when you’re done. Maybe you’ve gotten slow, not work.

The elevator doors open and you promptly leave, heading straight for the train station. It's an uneventful journey, and you choose to fill the silence by plugging in your earbuds. You step out of the train station, adjust your bag again, and head for the supermarket. The grocery list on your phone is pulled out, music flowing into your ears as you go about getting groceries.

Now with two plastic bags in hand, you make your way home. If you had restocked milk earlier - and not gotten lazy - you wouldn't have to haul two heavy plastic bags back home. Delivery is an option, but you won't be at home during the day to receive them. If only they offered delivery during the weekend.

Your phone rings, but you don't check who's calling. It's probably your mother, and it would be inconvenient to stop and drop the bags to pull your phone out. With a sigh, you continue walking. However, your trek is cut short when a hand grabs your wrist in a crushing grip, and pulls you closer. The music is still blasting in your ears, and you start sucking in a breath to scream only to stop when the grip turns almost bone breaking.

One look and you see Raaz's face under the black hood. He narrows his eyes at you and pulls you with him, bags still in hand and earbuds still in. When at his desired destination - a random alley like last time - you are pushed in front of him and you almost fall face first. You brace yourself and end up staggering but the bags fall and slide in opposite directions.

“Bad news, [Name].”

You barely hear him, hands reaching to pull out the earbuds and pocket them. Turning on your heel, you face him. He doesn't look any better than last time, only worse. ‘It’ is quieter, but you can sense how erratic it is. It feels like he's hiding how unstable he is only to do a poor job.

“You're going to go down with me,” he smiles. “Since you refused to help me hide, you now have a target on your back too.”

Disbelief contorts your expression into one of disgust. He's bluffing. He has to be. “Stop lying, Raaz. I'm not stupid and I'm not going to help you.”

He laughs, loud and sad. “That's what your mistake was. You never said yes to lunch and then I… then I ended up drinking again because another woman I love didn't want me.” A hand runs through his dirty hair before it slides down his hood. “I drank so much I bumped into the devil I was running from. And then… ah, fuck. I ended up telling him who I was thinking it was just another guy at the bar.”

Raaz looks you in the eye, and you take a step back from the sheer intensity only to find your feet restrained to your ground like during the previous encounter. It baffles you, but before you could question it or let alone panic, he's talking again.

“Now you're going to go down with me unless you help me. I'll let you go. I-I’ll get over you and Liza if you help me. You won't be harmed… probably.” He shrugs at the last part, and you find yourself not believing him at all.

Still, you prod further in hopes of making a false promise and being able to get away. There's no need to reason with him to go to the authorities. If it could've been helped, he would've gone there himself. “And just what,” you ask, “are you asking of me?”

“Money,” he replies instantly. “I burned all my savings trying to run. I need money so I can get a ticket and get the hell out of here.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about. How do you expect me to trust you?”

Your question makes ‘it’ flare up for a second before calming down, and Raaz doesn't miss the way your eyes widened for a minute. “I suspect you can see things. I'm right, aren't I?”

“Answer the questi-”

“Your legs,” he deadpans. A finger raises to point at your feet, and he continues. “I restrained them. Do you know how?”

You gulp, but humour him anyway. “How?”

He smiles. “I can manipulate metal.” A beat of silence passes before he talks. “That's why I'm like this. Someone wants me dead for this and I know he can do better but he's too busy fucking with me to make it quick.” Raaz inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “I don't even know what he wants by dragging it out, but I'm going to make sure he regrets it.”

“You aren't even sure I'll be okay if I help you,” you state.

However, he just smiles at your complaint. “When someone's too busy chasing the big fish, they ignore the little ones.”

“Fine,” you concede. If it’ll get this psycho off your back, you'll give him money. “How much do you need?”

“Half a million jenny,” he says, clarifying when your jaw hangs open, “and I'm being generous. I'm going to have to fly illegally and it's going to take money.”

“I… I don't have much.”

“You're a data analyst, [Name]. You'll get your bonus after two months. Do something, anything.”

You suck in a breath. Maybe you could take some out of your credit card and some as a loan. You really don't want to pay interest, but you'll have to if you want this problem solved. “Okay.” The deal is sealed and you are sent on your merry way with an address typed into your notes app.

You can't believe you just agreed to that.

-

It's dark and quiet. The taxi dropped you off a few blocks away, leaving you to walk to the warehouses that once used to be rented by people for storage. The people running the business sold it off to someone who never bothered to continue it. Now you're here, cold and scared as you stand outside the dilapidated structure.

The garage door opens on its own, Raaz's face peeking from the darkness inside. His eyes light up at the sight of you. “You're here.”

You're ushered inside despite your protests. All you wanted to do was throw the bag of money to his feet and be back on your merry way but you just had to be pulled inside by a freaking metal pole of all things. Now you're here, standing with your feet restrained to the ground as Raaz counts to make sure you brought as much as he asked.

The only problem is, he's now talking on the phone and he just mentioned how he's got ‘both the girl and the cash’. Oh, and now there's something that's restraining your hands and despite how much you wiggle and pry your hands apart, it doesn't budge.

When Raaz glances your way from staring at all the money inside the bag, he just smiles. “I'm sorry for dragging you into this, [Name], but a man's gotta do what he's gotta do.”

Anger is the first thing that makes itself known because you took out a loan with interest for this dunce and he goes ahead to stab you in the back. Maybe you should've told the police about him. Shit. You shouldn't have been so stupid. But it is also the police's fault for never taking you seriously. If they had, you would've actually sought them out a third time.

“What are you doing?” Your voice grows louder, angrier and more desperate. “Let me go! You said you wanted money and you got it so let me go!”

Raaz clicks his tongue, and what he says next makes things clearer. “Don't get me wrong, someone has been after me but if I do as the boss says, he'll get me out of Yorbia safely.” Something fades in his eyes as he continues. “It's not like it's my first time. If I didn't have this side gig, I wouldn't be alive right now. There are too many people after you when you're like this.”

Something hard and solid slithers up your body and covers your mouth, cutting short any words from your mouth. Raaz stands, the light behind him hitting his back to make him look more menacing. “You'll be taken soon. I asked them not to hurt you and sell you immediately. Though cruel, it's a small price to pay for my own protection.”

You can hear an engine rumble outside, and a buzz in his pocket is all he needs to start stepping towards the garage door behind you. He moves while looking at you, hand awkwardly reaching behind him to pull up the garage door as his eyes remain fixed on your body. “Tie her up quickly. It'll wear off if I look away so make it-”

Thump.

Something heavy drops onto the ground and immediately the metal grip on you loosens a little. You can hear footsteps and a kick before the sound of the door closing. It's agonising, being forced to be still and helpless while something happens behind your back that is definitely not in your favour.

More footsteps and a figure in black stalks towards the bag of money only to ignore it entirely and head for the door in the back. You take the opportunity to fight against the restraints, wiggling and trying to move your arms but it's metal and you only end up exhausting yourself. You hear a sigh from the other room and freeze.

When the person is back, you are more confused and helpless when you see Chrollo's face. This time, there is nothing covering his forehead and you see something black covered by his bangs. It's when he steps closer that you make it out to be a tattoo of some kind.

“Your involvement was a surprise, but a welcome one,” he says. ‘It’ is calm and his voice is even calmer. He steps even closer, now standing just two steps away. “I had thought you were working with him, so imagine my surprise when it turns out he was using you. Or trying to, at least.”

You make a face but the metal wrapped around your mouth stops you from being able to convey it properly. Chrollo smiles at the display, the corners of his lips curling upwards out of amusement. “Do you need help?” His question only makes you grimace. “I'll free you if you tell me about your ability.”

You have no idea what the hell he's talking about, but you nod anyway, desperate to have the rigid metal wrapped around you gone. Chrollo steps forward and you expect him to reveal a chainsaw or some other tool, so it's perfectly reasonable when you shriek as his hand grabs the metal and literally rips it away from your body. As he pries away the last of it, you end up gaping at him, mouth wide open as you stare at him in disbelief.

Hands hanging by your sides, your features contort into one of fear as soon as he stands. Chrollo is now looking you in the eye expectantly and you have no idea what to answer him. Thus, you take a deep breath, confidence coming from the fact that ‘it’ is still calm and not threatening at all. Your lips part to speak and you briefly catch a hint of satisfaction is his grey eyes. “Do you… come here often?”

Chrollo blinks, once then twice. He raises a brow. “Pardon me?”

“You know… do you hang out here frequently?”

Confusion grows on his face, but he quickly recovers. “No. I don't.” A few moments of silence pass and he speaks up with a sigh. “You're completely clueless about the circumstances, aren't you?”

Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and you look down at your shoes as you nod. Nervousness makes you bite your lip. You were about to be who-knows-what by Raaz before Chrollo strolled in casually. Speaking of, where's Raaz? You turn around, eyes falling onto Raaz lying on the floor and a hat discarded next to him. A realisation hits you, a hand on your shoulder disturbing your thoughts.

“What do you make of this situation, [Name]? What do you think is going on?”

You carefully eye him. Not sensing a threat, you voice your thoughts. “Raaz… was involved in illegal activities. It's why he disappeared. He was running from someone too and the people he worked for promised that he'd be safe as long as he did what they asked.”

Chrollo hums. “And what did they ask of him?”

“A woman to sell off…?”

“You sound unsure,” he smiles. The hand on your shoulder slips down to your wrist, thumb massaging the skin. “He was involved in human trafficking,” Chrollo reveals. “His fiancé didn't cheat on him. She was trafficked.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, more pieces of the puzzle coming out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the most surprising thing is how Chrollo is here. The hand circled around your wrist is wiggled out of, and the question on your mind is voiced. “How are you here?”

Chrollo tilts his head at you. “I could ask you the same.” When you raise a brow at him, he chuckles. “I'm here for your coworker over there. He told you about someone who was after him. That would be me. However, I'm not after his life.”

You raise your brow higher, prompting Chrollo to continue. “You’re a Nen user, right?” When you ask him what he's talking about, he grows more confused. “You're a Nen user without the awareness of being one? Interesting.”

A hand finds its way to his chin, but Chrollo is lost in thought for only a few moments. “What do you suppose I should do with your coworker? He used to ask you out, correct?”

“Yes? Does that matter?”

“Perhaps,” he smiles.

You gulp, sensing a kind of game he's playing with you. “Don't hurt him. Hand him over to the police. They'll… they'll know what to do with him.” Your request is heard, but Chrollo does not seem to care for it because he clicks his tongue and pushes his hands into the pockets of his black trenchcoat.

Crouching down in front of Raaz, he grabs his hand and you look away. A moment later, you look again and Raaz's palm is flat against the cover of a book in Chrollo's hand. Where the hell that book came from, you have no idea.

“Now that that's done,” he says, now moving to stand, “what to do with you…”

Your blood runs cold at the question. If this situation is anything to go by, Chrollo is not any better than Raaz. In fact, he may be infinitely worse. Regardless, you still do not feel any kind of threat from him, ‘it’ being considerably less suffocating than it was the last time you had met him. Perhaps it is the lingering adrenaline that makes it seem so, but you are not afraid of him at the moment. Thus, being the person that you are, you try at making him spare you.

“Maybe,” you start, “you could, you know, let me go home. I'm not going to say or do anything. I couldn't be bothered about this. I'll take the jenny I was scammed out of and go home. Or you could keep the money if you want! As long as I get to go back home.”

Your negotiation attempt makes Chrollo think. He spends a few moments pondering over the situation, eyes still focused on you. When he parts his lips to speak, you have already prepared yourself to not be let go. “I'll let you go if you agree to meet me tomorrow evening. I suppose I can think over what to do with you in the meantime,” Chrollo says.

The offer makes you take a step back. “Really? You won't scam me like Raaz did?”

“I can make a promise if it eases your mind.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He's smiling at you teasingly and you in no way are feeling any sense of danger from him. Begrudgingly, you agree. “Fine. Where should I meet you?”

“Give me your number. I'll send you the location.”

You make a face at the request, but surrender when he pesters you with promises of no ill will. An hour later, you are at your apartment, the bag of jenny still with you as you start planning to immediately pay off the loan you took out.

-

It is 7 pm. You stand somewhere to the side where Chrollo had asked you to come, the man in question nowhere to be seen. He asked you to come around 7 pm and you ended up getting here at 6:36 pm. It’s been 24 minutes since you’ve been standing here in wait.

Though you’ve been waiting alone with your thoughts for so long, the dread starts settling in now. It does not help that you can feel a familiar suffocating aura before you turn to look at its source casually strolling up to you on the busy street. It also does not help that your alarm had been explicitly painted on your face as soon as he was within a 6 feet radius.

“I was expecting you to not come,” he says. “This is certainly a surprise.” Chrollo smiles at you again, the curve of his lips somehow more menacing than the darkness around him. There’s a hat covering his forehead like before, you note. It seems that he certainly wants to hide the tattoo in public.

“I suppose my life is on the line. I would rather not walk around with another target on my back. You don’t seem like someone I would want after me, if Raaz’s condition was anything to go by.”

“An excellent deduction. I’m not someone you would want coming after you, at least not for your life or ability.” You gulp his clarification, proceeding to ask what he concluded for the course of action he must take. Chrollo chooses to let a few moments of silence pass, listening to the bustle on the busy street before replying, “I’ll tell you in due time. First…”

That is how almost half an hour later you are sitting at a restaurant, Chrollo across you, and a menu in front of you. What the hell is going on, you have no idea. You came here to find out if you’re going to be kidnapped or killed. Not to be taken out for dinner. When asked what you’d like to have, you insist that you aren’t hungry, something that Chrollo makes it a point to ignore as he ends up ordering for you. It is even more disorienting when it ends up being something you’ve had multiple times for lunch during the workdays.

“So,” you start, nervousness seemingly dripping from your countenance, “I suppose the final verdict will be given for dessert?” When Chrollogives no answer, you continue. “At least give me a hint. Death or imprisonment?”

He blinks at you. “It’s a surprise.” With that simple statement, he is back to observing you, one hand on the table and tracing the rim of the glass tumblr in front of him. “I hope Isasmo isn’t worried about your circumstances.”

Ah shit, he remembers. “Nope. He doesn’t know.”

“You hid everything? I suppose that’s reasonable. An axolotl wouldn’t be able to help in any way.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat picking up. “You… how do you know?”

Chrollo’s response is simple, but it isn’t any less chilling. “You talk to him everyday.” He’s still watching you, eyes crinkling at the corners from his amused smile. It’s maddening having to be on the receiving end of this. When you do not grace him with a response, Chrollo does not say anything further as well.

The silence is excruciatingly painful. Chrollo's gaze, however, is more uncomfortable than being called out in class for an answer and not knowing it. Thus, a bright idea pops into your mind, a legendary question that easily makes any conversation better. “So,” you start, bracing yourself, “you like jazz?”

The only reaction you get is speechlessness before Chrollo clears his throat. “Not particularly. You?”

You shake your head. “Not my style.”

Resting your face in your palm, you look away, eyes anywhere but him. The surroundings seem more interesting, the two couples and a few lone people in the background having more to tell than the person you thought was going to end up hurting you. Well, it’s not your fault you got caught in the crossfire of whatever was going on.

“What,” Chrollo says, perking you up, “was your relationship with Raaz?” He’s tracing the rim of the glass again, something that bothers you because of the discrepancy between the action and his expression. Regardless, you answer truthfully. There is no guarantee he already knows and is simply testing your truthfulness.

“He was my coworker. He used to ask me out for lunch numerous times. That’s all.”

“And did you go to lunch with him?”

You shake your head. “No.” 

Chrollo simply makes a thinking face before he’s back to normal again, hands sliding underneath the table. Silence once again hangs in the air, the tension thick enough to be cut through with a knife. You are completely unaware of Chrollo’s aims and motives, yet he knows you more than you could have ever thought.

Which reminds you…

“Chrollo.” He perks up at the call of his name instantly. You continue. “Someone was most definitely coming into my apartment during my absence. Was that you?”

The smile he gave you told you everything. A groan comes from your throat, the annoyance over being paranoid and doubting yourself while being sure that something was amiss catching up. “And just why were you breaking and entering?”

He clicks his tongue. “I thought you were working with Raaz.”

“Yet when you didn’t find anything the first time, you still persisted.”

“New evidence can pop up anytime,” he shrugs.

How someone can be so nonchalant over something like this, you have no idea. Sure, you were worried at first but annoyed later on, but still!

“So have you decided what to do with me?”

After a moment of contemplation, you are given a smile and a promise to be informed of your inevitable outcome after dinner. Yet after dinner you are taken to a nearby pier with no sign of the final verdict being given anytime soon. Now settled on a bench next to Chrollo, the little distance between you both resulting from your death glares whenever he slid close to you, you decide to enjoy the cool breeze before asking him again.

And you do. You ask him again what he’s decided to do with you, and all you are given before the knowledge of your inevitable end is a smile and a tilted head. This is when you notice how long Chrollo’s hair is.

“I was considering an… ‘arrangement’,” he says. The words cause your heart to start beating faster. “I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head or your family if you agree.”

He pauses, gauging your reaction, and you start praying he does not turn you into some kind of personal slave. “If,” he continues, making you start fidgeting with your hands out of nervousness, “you agree, you’ll live comfortably without a care in the world.” Another pause and the anticipation grows. The sound of chatter in the background is completely mute and the wind has already stopped blowing.

“What I’m proposing is… well, you allow me to court you. I will take the necessary steps, and you simply have to accept.”

The minute Chrollo utters those words, you freeze. A reply is on the tip of your tongue, and you know it is not a wise idea yet you open your mouth anyway. “If you wanted to ask me out so badly, you could’ve just walked up to me and asked instead of threatening to kill me or my family.”

All you receive in response is a shrug before he formulates a reply. “Would you have said yes if I asked under normal circumstances?”

“No.”

“Then my point has been proven.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should test the waters. “And what if I said no? What then?”

Chrollo leans back on the backrest, now more comfortable before he continues his negotiation with you. “Was Raaz’s predicament not enough of an example?” The wind blows again, and he leans forward, eyes on the water. “Not that I would prefer that, but you understand what I’m referring to.”

And you do understand what he’s referring to. You understand because you saw what became of Raaz. Nevertheless, you need more information to negotiate. Perhaps you might be able to find a way out during his ‘courting’. “Are you a homeowner,” you ask. “And do you live in the house you own?”

Chrollo looks at you from the periphery of his vision, suspicion making him more alert. “No, but I can purchase a home anytime.”

“Alright,” you nod. “And do you have a stable income?”

“As long as the world has treasure and resources, I will.”

“I see.” You pause, thinking of more questions to ask. “What about family?  How much family do you have? Any siblings?”

“None,” he replies, “Any other questions?” He’s looking at you directly now. “Or would you like to leave some things to be discovered later on?”

You purse your lips at the comment. So he has money and no family. Sounds mighty suspicious or concerning. Depends how you look at it. You’re looking at it both ways. Silence settles once again as you think over what to say next. Chrollo seems content to leave you with your thoughts, as he doesn’t make any move to break the silence.

But when the silence is broken, it is broken by your capitulation. Chrollo is pleased as expected, yet there is no sign of relief or contentment on your end. Perhaps you could purposely make the relationship fail, and then he might let you go. At the very least, this arrangement is better than having your parents and yourself hunted down by a criminal.

-

It has been 3 entire weeks since you accepted Chrollo’s conditions. Your job is going fine, boring as usual, and seeing Raaz’s replacement still reminds you of the feeling of cold metal restraining you and keeping you in place.

It’s maddening, having to relive that feeling everyday. However, what’s worse is seeing Chrollo inside your apartment numerous times a week, mostly when you come home from work. He hasn’t made a move to stay the night yet, always excusing himself to ‘work’ or saying something along the lines of you not being ready for that step. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for it, but you don’t like being indirectly told that he pulls the strings and holds the power.

That’s why you’re here. Everything in the past several weeks has led to this and the tension and stress of those weeks has boiled down to reveal someone very tired and just a little spiteful. You knew he was someone to stay away from, and you did stay away from him. Or tried to at least.

“You said you wanted to speak to me about something?”

The devil has voiced your intentions, and you are now obliged to jump straight to the point. Having just got off work, you’re tired and a bit annoyed due to the lack of proper sleep. Despite that, you suck in a breath, continue strolling with him in the park, and give your response. 

“We should break up,” you say, a sense of finality in your words that conveys your message that you shan’t be swayed in your decision. “Or stop this, considering this isn’t a normal relationship.” You had refused to hold his hand today, saying you want to keep them shoved into your pockets since they’re cold. They are currently sweating. “I don’t love you, and I don’t feel any bit comfortable. Continuing this would just make the both of us miserable.”

The break up dialogue sounded better in the TV shows you’ve watched, but you let it slide and continue. “Let’s just… see other people, okay? You’re probably just lonely. You said you have no family, and I can’t be the replacement. I don’t feel it working. I don’t feel loved and I sure as hell can’t love back.”

There is silence before Chrollo stops in front of you. He turns, facing you, and you are suddenly reminded of the children playing nearby and your bag being on his shoulders. “Is it because you remember the circumstances? If that’s the case, I can make you forget them.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” You flex your sweating palms inside your pockets, nervousness skyrocketing. “I just… it’s not working Chrollo.” There is desperation in your voice now. “You may find this arrangement fulfilling, but it’s not the case for me. I don’t even know what you do for a living! I don’t know your last name and-” You cut yourself off. You’ve gone off-topic.

“What I’m saying is,” you continue, “I’m certain this isn’t working out. We should go our separate ways.”

Silence once again settles, but it is soon broken by the sound of footsteps. With your head down, you see Chrollo’s shoes when he walks up to you. A hand on your chin raises your head to meet his eyes, and you gulp out of nervousness when his lips part to speak. “The condition was that I would court you and you would accept. There was no room for rejection to begin with.”

He pauses, looking for any reaction on your face. When he fails, he continues. “If you don’t feel loved, you should communicate instead of breaking up. A relationship thrives when both parties communicate, right?”

You brush off his hold, lips twisting in slight disgust. “You aren’t getting my point-”

“Explain it to me then.”

“I just did.”

“Your argument lacks claim and reason. It isn’t even an argument to begin with.”

A frustrated groan and you bring your hands out of your pockets. With a few slaps to your cheeks, you try again. “I don’t like you and I can’t stand you. If this wasn’t something that came as a result of what happened to Raaz and I met you as a stranger and ‘it’ wasn’t as creepy as it was, I might’ve given you the time of day but none of it happened!” Chrollo looks at you like you’ve grown two heads during your outburst, but you do not care. “Chrollo, you creep me out and I don’t like you. I can’t accept you and fall in love with you. What more do you not understand?”

He blinks, once then twice, before grabbing your shoulders. The action makes you freeze, the suffocating feeling from ‘it’ growing and becoming more visible and menacing now prevailing. “Elaborate on ‘it’.” The grip on your shoulders slides down to your arms but you do not feel any less threatened. Maybe that’s why he never stayed the night. You’re too frightened at times.

“There’s… something around you.” Revealing this feels wrong, but you know you have no choice now. “It’s dark, the darkest I’ve seen yet on any person. It’s scary and overwhelming and I don’t like it. Sometimes it’s calm and tolerable and sometimes it’s huge. It doesn’t have anything to do with emotions, or that’s what I think.”

Chrollo hums, letting you go. ‘It’ does not simmer down until a few more minutes pass, and he only speaks after it does. “It’s your Nen ability. You cannot see Nen, but your ability is an exception.”

“What do you mean?”

Chrollo glances around before stepping closer. He points to his right palm with his eyes and in a moment, a book suddenly just appears in his hold. Any questions on your end are silenced with the excuse of being in a public space. The only answer you get that evening is that the book is Chrollo’s ability.

Any further probing is told off immediately. Chrollo does not wish to say anything further, changing the topic promptly and continuing to converse like you did not just attempt to break up with him. The lingering fear from his threats slowly starts seeping in, and you once again grow bewildered over how your circumstances have changed.

-

You're in the kitchen when Chrollo says you need to pack your bags. He had gotten up from the living room sofa and strolled into the kitchen when he broke the news. Now, as he stands in front of you, your back to the counter, and recounts the essentials you need to pack, you blankly nod. Everything is a blur. You cannot control your actions, only watch them like a third party.

He turns his back to you now, sighing at your silence, but before he can take a step forward, you plunge a knife into his back. The silence is deafening, but when you pull out the blade to see your handiwork, you are greeted with only a handle.

The blade sits in Chrollo's palm, and he's looking directly at you.

All your muscles are frozen, and you cannot discern whether the ringing in your ears is from the adrenaline or from being stared down. Minutes pass this way, and it is only when you throw the handle somewhere to the side that it subsides.

“Pack the essentials,” Chrollo says, his voice cutting through the silence. You’re now noticing the TV is turned off. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

You just noticed Chrollo’s palm is unscathed. How odd.

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter

[gimmethatagustd]

blood on the sheets | kth

Despite what some people may think, your roommate isn't a monster. You know Taehyung; he'd never hurt anyone.

↳ pairing: vampire!taehyung x human!(f)reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | fantasy/supernatural | roommates to... lovers? | dead dove | smut | angst

↳ wc/date: 4.7k | October 2023

↳ warnings: blood, biting, blood drinking, yandere, (technically temporary) character death, homicidal tendencies, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus (face sitting), period sex, unprotected vaginal sex, blood as lube, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, yandere, dubcon blood drinking, dubcon sex, vampire venom is intoxicating, mc and tae complain about men who are rude toward menstruating people and ik that some men do menstruate so pls know that they are referring to cis men in this context

↳ notes: this is for @taehyungcentral for halloween 🦇 i hope it's everything you wanted bby. you nasty whore

↳ more notes: this is very unedited i'm sorry jhskds i also REALLY wanted to keep it at a normal drabble length and i obviously failed. so i'll try to do better with the rest of the halloween drabbles lmfao rip

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? this vampire kpop playlist hali showed me  

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

“Doesn’t he, y’know, creep you out?” 

Robin takes a sip of her cocktail with lips so accustomed to being pursued in snootiness that little wrinkles have formed around the edges of her mouth despite her young age. It’s a shame, but the look is fitting. Sometimes, a person’s ugliness on the inside does reflect on the outside. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask with thinly-veiled irritation. 

You haven’t known Robin for a long time, though you suppose it wouldn’t have mattered if you knew her for a day or an entire year. She’s the type of person you could spend hours talking to and walk away knowing nothing about her. You’re simply coworkers, and that’s enough for you.

Robin shrugs and tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder when she turns to blatantly stare across the room. The bar isn’t big, just large enough for a few tables and booths lining the walls and a small dancefloor in the middle of the room. It’s intimate, so your coworkers picked it for the office’s monthly night out. Alcohol, catchy pop music, and hipster bars are perfect ingredients for morale-boosting activities, but Robin doesn’t know how to not be nasty. 

You follow her gaze, and a small smile lifts the corners of your mouth despite her rude question when you see who she’s looking at. 

The cup in Taehyung’s hand is colored glass. In the dim lights, the cup appears to be a dark forest green that pairs prettily with his fire-engine red hair and the contacts that turn his dark eyes a mossy color. You helped him pick out the contacts while the two of you got ready for the work outing. The green are just as alluring as the other colored contacts he owns, but they’re less intimidating than his favorite gray ones. 

The colored cups are the bar’s effort to hide the deep crimson liquid inside. Supposedly, it’s for the comfort of all their patrons, but everyone knows what passes through Taehyung’s plush lips when he brings the cup to his mouth. 

You watch his throat bob as he swallows. The v-cut of his shirt exposes his elegant neck and collarbones, not that you’re looking or anything.  

“He eats people, for Christ’s sake. How could you live with something like that?” 

Your vodka-cranberry drink is down to the ice, and your patience for Robin has melted with it. 

“Fuck you,” you snap. “Taehyung doesn’t eat people. And he’s not a thing; he’s a person.” 

It’s so unlike you to be this aggressive, but something mean twists inside your stomach whenever you’re forced to interact with people like Robin, who use their prejudice to infect everyone around them. Vampires have been integrated into human society for decades with very few incidents, yet there are still humans like Robin who hold onto the horror stories of the past. 

Besides, Robin doesn’t even know Taehyung. You’ve brought him around your coworkers before as a plus-one to work events, but Robin doesn’t actually know him. She doesn’t know how kind he is, how he looks after you when even your friends rarely do, how he goes out of his way to prove that just because he’s a vampire doesn’t mean he’s a monster. 

The pounding of your heart is enough evidence that you aren’t used to this hostile behavior. You nearly knock over your chair when you stand, and your hands are too shaky to pick up your drink from where it sits on the table before you. 

Robin glares at you with eyes that pierce through your tough facade. Her cherry-red lips part to expose teeth more dangerous-looking than a vampire’s fangs, but whatever she has to say dies on her tongue. 

“Hey, love.” Taehyung’s fingers skirt your lower back, and the cold of his fingertips bleeds through your thin shirt. “You okay?” 

“Yup!” You give Taehyung a slight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I was just telling Robin that I’m going home. Is that alright?” 

Taehyung hums in understanding, his fingers now pressing against your hip bone. The pressure is light, but it’s enough to force your body to turn slightly to face him rather than the table where Robin still sits. 

You naturally gravitate toward him regardless. When you first became friends and shortly before you decided to live together, you’d playfully accused Taehyung of using his vampiric charms on you. 

“I don’t need magic to make you fall in love with me, baby,” Taehyung had replied with a lopsided grin, no fangs in sight.  

Admittedly, you spent far too many of the following nights replaying that comment in your head. 

“Of course,” Taehyung slips his index finger through one of your belt loops and tugs on it absentmindedly, “I’ll leave with you; I’ve lost interest in listening to Seokjin’s passionate rambling. There’s only so much video game lore I can handle.” 

Robin mutters something snarky under her breath that you can’t hear, but your heart hurts because you know Taehyung can. You’re sure it’s his superhuman hearing that set him off to rescue you from Robin’s bitchy attitude, considering how your heart is beating at a worrying pace. This situation is yet another example of how kind Taehyung is. 

Robin doesn’t know shit.

Going home is a good call for more than just escaping Robin’s bitchy behavior. From the time it takes Taehyung to drive home, your lower stomach begins to hurt with such extreme stabbing pain that you can barely walk upright once you arrive. Taehyung has to wrap his arm around your shoulders and slowly guide you up the elevators and down the hall to your apartment's front door. Once he enters the passcode, he helps you inside and leads you into the kitchen. 

“You weren’t supposed to start for another week,” Taehyung comments off-handedly as he fetches you a glass of water. He speaks with the casualness of discussing the weather or your weekend plans. 

It makes your cheeks warm, and you stare at the water in your glass once he hands it to you. “How do you know that?” 

“I pay attention to you, love,” Taehyung murmurs. You should think it’s weird when he inhales deeply through his nose, but you only feel warm as goosebumps scatter across your skin. “I can also… smell it.” 

With a gentle grip on your waist, Taehyung draws you closer to where he leans against the kitchen counter. Once you’re standing directly before him, he slips his hand beneath your shirt to press his cold palm against your lower stomach. The gut-wrenching pain is still there, but in the mix of the pain, butterflies are swirling about, and the cool of his skin feels good against your too-hot body. 

Some of your friends have commented on how you act with Taehyung - or, more so, how Taehyung acts with you. He's touchy, and personal boundaries mean very little. For some, it would be off-putting how Taehyung initiates touch without asking, but you find it comforting. You don't mind; if anything, you're endeared by it. It means he's comfortable with you and knows you trust him.

Trust, you're quickly learning, is important for vampires in a world that distrusts them.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s really gross.” 

“Gross?” Taehyung rubs his thumb along the sensitive skin of your stomach and watches you intently with his mossy green eyes. It should be unnerving, but you’re too captivated by Taehyung to think anything of it. 

“All my ex-boyfriends never even wanted to talk about periods, let alone…” You’re too shy to finish your sentence; repeating what Taehyung said seems too embarrassing. It’s embarrassing enough that you’re comparing your roommate to your ex-boyfriends. 

You let out a quiet sigh when Taehyung removes his hand from beneath your shirt. He takes your empty glass from your hands and places it on the kitchen counter. Letting Taehyung take care of you feels nice, especially when your period cramps make breathing difficult. 

“Humans are strange,” Taehyung murmurs as he gently turns you around by your shoulders to guide you to your bedroom. “There is nothing dirty or disgusting about blood. It is natural. A life source, in more ways than one.”

After changing into a new pair of underwear and comfy pajamas, you slip into your bed and patiently wait for Taehyung to finish getting ready for bed.

It isn’t unusual for you to spend time together at night, especially since you don’t have much time that overlaps due to Taehyung being nocturnal. He doesn’t sleep all day, but getting all covered up is a hassle just to brave the sunlight, so Taehyung prefers to spend his days inside. 

You get cuddled in your blankets with a heating pad pressed to your lower stomach. At the same time, Taehyung sets up his laptop on your bed before you, pulling up your favorite reality TV show because he knows you’re too sensitive to handle anything emotional. 

Taehyung is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and form-fitting grey sweatpants. It’s a deadly combination, and you hate that he can hear your heart flutter when he climbs into bed with you. You’re close enough that your shoulders press together, and Taehyung’s cool temperature seeps into your body, contrasting nicely with the heating pad resting on your stomach.

Sometimes, you wonder if Taehyung has figured out that he’s the reason you're a jittery mess. You wonder if he knows that your heart races around him, not because you’re afraid of him but because you’ve considered what it would feel like to let him sink his fangs into your flesh.

He probably has no idea, you think as you appraise him out of the corner of your eye. He's charming and naturally flirty. He probably thinks you're just matching his energy.

You're terrible at flirting anyway.

Clearing your throat, you adjust the blankets and try to focus on the TV show. However, it’s difficult to concentrate with Taehyung snuggled against your side. He’s being more affectionate than usual, likely because you get more sensitive when you’re on your period. You can’t complain. It feels nice to have his strong arm curled around your waist and his large hand resting against your hip. 

“Comfortable?” Taehyung turns his head to the side to speak against the curve of your ear. His cool breath against your skin makes you shiver. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “Are you?” 

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss and give Taehyung a sharp slap to the leg that you know won’t hurt him. 

You slide further into the blankets to rest your head on Taehyung’s shoulder. There’s no reason for you to be whispering, but you do. Perhaps it’s the atmosphere, your bedroom dark except for a single bedside lamp casting a shallow yellow glow, and Taehyung’s laptop lighting up your bed sheets a pale blue. 

After a few minutes of silence between the two of you passes while the show plays through, Taehyung begins thrumming his fingers against your hip. 

“Were your exes truly mean to you about something so natural?”

“What?” You twist your torso slightly to look up at him. “Like, not wanting to talk about periods and stuff?” 

Taehyung nods. He’s no longer wearing his contacts, so you can see the lamp’s yellow light reflect in his deep red eyes, making them burn orange. Having known Taehyung for a year now, you’ve learned that the color of his eyes changes pretty regularly. You aren’t sure what the colors mean, though you’re pretty sure they have more to do with his mood than his hunger levels – contrary to what vampire films and novels might lead you to believe. 

“Well, yeah. Guys think periods are gross. A lot of people do, honestly. Because of blood, and also, y’know, misogyny and all that shit.” You shrug, having come to terms with these facts long ago. “Like, one time I told my ex about this article I read that said orgasms can temporarily relieve cramps, and he went on this whole rant about how period sex is disgusting. It made me feel like I was disgusting, honestly. But whatever.” 

Throughout your explanation, Taehyung’s face slowly contorts until he looks legitimately upset. It startles you because why should he care about any of this? 

Sweet Taehyung is too empathetic for his own good, you think. 

“Human men are pathetic,” Taehyung finally says with a snort. “Period sex sounds fun.” 

You struggle to swallow with how dry your mouth and throat have become. Why did you bring up sex while you sit halfway leaned against Taehyung’s chest in your bed, with the lights off, quite literally Netflix and chilling on a Friday night?

“W-well,” you start to stutter but quickly try to pull yourself together, “I wouldn’t know.” 

Taehyung hums and then falls silent again, so you assume the topic is dropped. That is until a few more minutes pass with Taehyung’s fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt, and he eventually leans toward your ear again. 

“Would you like to find out?” 

This time, you turn around to face Taehyung. He keeps his head bent, which positions his face to be level with yours. You can smell the woody notes of his cologne that make you salivate. 

“What?” you squeak, but you hear him more clearly than you hear your own thoughts.  

“You still have cramps, don’t you?” You nod. “I could help you, love. You need not suffer.” 

Blood rushes to your ears, causing your heartbeat to throb inside your brain. The pounding has a ripple effect, creating beating waves that roll throughout your entire body. It's as though you've become a giant heart trembling and pulsing from the prospect of having sex with the man you've desired in secret for far too long.

Likely noticing your body falling into distress, Taehyung cups the side of your face with his free hand. Using his hold on you, he tilts your head slightly. His eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t think it’s physically possible for you to look away. 

“Are you afraid of me?” 

"No," you respond without hesitation. You aren't.

Your response pleases Taehyung, and you're reminded of the importance of trust. When he smiles, you think his canines look slightly pointier than usual.  

"You know," Taehyung begins slowly, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your slightly parted lips. "Humans drown themselves in shame. I have never understood it. What is so reprehensible about pleasure, hm? Is it so wrong to seek it?"

"I don't know," you admit through a breathy exhale when Taehyung brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Your ex made you feel ashamed, didn't he?"

You nod, rendered speechless from how Taehyung trails his fingers along your jaw and neck. Gently, he presses his index and middle fingers against the soft spot of your throat where your heart panics beneath your skin.

Taehyung wets his lips.

"I could make you feel good."

All it takes is a light tap of his fingers against your hip, and you're leaning into Taehyung's chest. His large hand slides from the side of your neck to the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. It's deep and demanding, sending your head spinning as you struggle to keep up with Taehyung's soft lips.

You moan when the tip of his tongue flicks against your mouth, coaxing you open for him to taste. You fall apart for him willingly, ready to bear your soul if he so much as whispers the request against your lips.

Taehyung could kiss you forever; he doesn't need to breathe. You have to force yourself to pull back to gasp for air when you begin to feel lightheaded, and you struggle to register that you've somehow ended up in Taehyung's lap. You straddle his firm thighs with your knees on either side of his hips and your fingers digging into his broad shoulders. It's embarrassing, the feeling of suddenly having no control over yourself, but Taehyung squeezes your hips when you try to get up.

"Will you let me?" His eyes are a deep red, nearly black, as he searches your face for your answer when you don't immediately respond.

Your entire body throbs with anticipation. Sleeping with Taehyung is everything you've forced yourself not to imagine - out of shame because what is more shameful than thirsting over your roommate who has no interest in you?

Except he does. You can feel his hard cock underneath you, and when you subtly scoot your ass against it, his fingers dig deeper into your hips.

"Please," you whisper. The word barely leaves your lips when you're suddenly tossed onto your back.

Taehyung's nimble fingers slip beneath your t-shirt and push it up, murmuring, "Lift your arms, love," and discarding it onto the floor in one sweep. Leaning forward, Taehyung kisses each of your now-exposed nipples, flicking his cool tongue over them until they're hard and wet.

You moan and instinctually arch your back, pushing your chest against his open mouth.

"Can't wait to taste you," Taehyung groans into your skin as he slips his hands into the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts. The fabric easily slides down your legs. Taehyung flings them onto the floor, where they melt into a pool of blood-red silk. "You smell delicious. Always do."

Understanding Taehyung's praises is difficult when he lights up your nerves with every kiss and harsh suck of your skin into his mouth. You don't feel anything sharp for now, but you want to. Again, it's shame that squanders the urge to admit your desires to Taehyung. All you can do is tangle your fingers in his pretty red hair and stare into his eyes as he sucks wet kisses down your stomach.

Your thighs are already slightly wet with your arousal and, unfortunately, blood. It's hot and sticky. You try to close your legs, but Taehyung keeps them propped open. To your horror, you watch him drag his hands up your inner thighs, smearing the little traces of arousal and blood that have rubbed off onto your skin. It leaves light pink streaks on his palms.

With dark eyes, Taehyung holds your gaze as he brings one hand to his mouth and licks up the entire length of his palm.

"Fuck," he lets out a shuddery moan, eyes fluttering closed. "Goddamn, love."

It shouldn't be hot, the feral look in Taehyung's eyes when he opens them again. It shouldn't be hot, the way his fangs naturally drop. He snaps his mouth shut, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows a few times. His fangs are gone the next time he opens his mouth.

"Sit on my face."

You nearly choke. "Excuse me?"

Reaching behind his head, Taehyung pulls his t-shirt off with one hand. Smooth, unblemished skin glows honey gold in the dim lighting. Possessed, you can't stop yourself from reaching out to run your hands down his chest. His abs tense and contract when you caress them. By the time you reach the waistband of his sweatpants, you've lost the little bit of courage you had.

"I want you to sit on my face." Taehyung's voice is thick and gravelly. There's a dangerous edge to it that you can't quite name.

"O-okay," you whimper.

A thrill pulses through your body when you remember what Taehyung is.

He's a person, not a monster. But he's dangerous all the same.

Taehyung lies on his back and holds his arms out, coaxing you forward. His large hands squeeze your thighs, just below your ass, to haul you further up until you're hovering right over his face.

"Are you su-"

"It is impossible for you to understand how painful it has been to wait for this moment." Taehyung holds eye contact with you as he slides his hands up to squeeze your ass cheeks and pull your pussy down onto his mouth.

"Oh my god," you moan, scrambling to grab the bedframe to steady yourself.

Taehyung licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, lapping up the mouthwatering mixture of arousal and blood gushing from you with every pulse of your pussy. Using the tip of his tongue, he swirls your clit, flicking it repeatedly until he gets tired of that and sucks it into his mouth instead.

Your thighs quiver, and chants of Taehyung's name flow from your lips like honey as he tongues your entrance. His mouth is relentless, nipping, licking, and sucking your clit until you're trembling so severely that Taehyung has to prop his arms up to hold most of your weight. It only gets worse when he presses his tongue inside your pussy, fucking into you as he devours your sweet blood and juices with the moans of a starved man.

"T-Taehyung," you gasp, reaching down to dig your fingers into his hair. Your nails scrape against his scalp, and the rumble of his moans into your pussy is to die for. "I'm gonna come, oh my god, oh, pl-, ah, please d-don't-"

Your eyes, which had fallen shut as you focused on the feeling of Taehyung's mouth on your pussy, fly open when something sharp presses into the inside of your thigh. You look down to see Taehyung's fangs buried into your flesh, just at the crease of your inner thigh, where the skin is soft and supple. The pain quickly morphs into mind-numbing pleasure, so white hot that it feels like your brain is melting out of your ears when you finally come.

You slump forward with your face pressed against the wall and your hands weakly gripping the bed frame as your body convulses in Taehyung's hold.

"Tae, Tae, Taehyung, oh god." It hurts how deeply he bites into you, but the longer he clamps on, the more intoxicated you become by the venom all vampires carry in their bite.

It's distracting, the way you feel like you're floating. Your eyes flutter as you feel Taehyung pull you onto the bed on your back. He hovers over you, the bloodied face of a fallen angel closing in on you.

"I'm your first," Taehyung states the question, already knows the answer, but you nod your head to confirm. Taehyung is the first vampire to bite you. It's why the effects are so intense; your body has no built-up immunity.

He's smug as he leans forward to kiss you, shoving his tongue into your mouth to force you to taste yourself on him. It doesn't taste good, but you aren't thinking when you stick your tongue out to lick the blood and cum off his lips. You lick and suck his lips, cleaning them off just to let him dirty you up.

"Fuck, love, you're so fucking sexy," Taehyung growls once you release his bottom lip from between your teeth. "Mine. All mine. You're mine."

You give him a sleepy smile and loop your arms around his neck. "Yours."

Taehyung nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and runs his tongue along the crease, swiping back and forth between wet kisses. 

"Gonna fuck you now, baby." He rakes his fangs down your neck, drawing blood in thin parallel lines. "Mark you, ruin you. Do you want that? Want me to make you feel good?"

Blood trickles down both sides of your neck to pool in your collarbones. Eventually, the pools overflow, sending rivers of red cascading down your chest, past your hardened nipples, and the hickeys Taehyung sucked into the skin of your abdomen. Between your legs, a giant black bruise spreads in your inner thigh, and blood trickles from the multiple puncture wounds there. 

“Please, fuck me, please,” you beg, eyes half-closed. Your head lolls to the side to watch Taehyung remove his sweatpants. Red splotches cover the grey fabric like a homemade tie-dye. 

“Look at you,” Taehyung’s voice is saccharine. He kneels in front of you on the bed and squeezes the thigh he bit into. With a yelp, your entire body jerks from the pain, though the haze of Taehyung’s venom makes the discomfort temporary. “So pretty.” 

Your blood drips from Taehyung’s fingers and follows the lines in his palms down to curve around his wrist. Something stirs inside your stomach as Taehyung smears your blood all over his cock, using it as a lubricant to jerk himself off. His skin turns slick and shiny red. 

With his free hand, he cups the back of your knee to hike your leg up, adjusting you into the perfect position for him to swirl the head of his cock in the blood on your thigh. Gathering more on the tip, Taehyung gives himself one last squeeze before positioning himself between your legs. 

He isn’t gentle when he enters you, sinking his cock into you in one bloody thrust. How his hip presses into the crease of your thigh hurts, applying pressure to your wounds that still bleed, but the pleasure of Taehyung’s thick cock pounding into you is enough to block out the pain. You’re so high, your soul barely attached to your body as Taehyung fucks you, each stroke fast and deep. His grip on you is supernaturally rough. Bruises immediately bloom across your skin, and his blunt nails dig crescent cuts into your skin. 

More blood. 

“Feel good, love?” Taehyung’s voice is on edge. He practically growls, and his words are slightly slurred from his fangs dropping down once again. This time, he doesn’t try to retract them. When he kisses you, you feel them press against your lips like cold daggers. One slices a small cut in the corner of your mouth, and blood collects in the creases of your lips until Taehyung sucks it all up. 

“Can’t, fuck, get enough.” Taehyung punctuates his sentiments with a snap of his hips. Pleasure rolls off of you in waves, dragging your mind deeper and deeper into a blank void. Taehyung is dizzying, so pretty with his bloody mouth and wild eyes. 

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his lips press against your neck, leaving kisses far gentler than the way he fucks you. The coil building in your stomach is so hot and tight that you don’t even feel the pain of Taehyung biting your neck. You immediately come, your orgasm ripping through your body as Taehyung’s fangs rip through your flesh.  

Taehyung moans through his teeth as he comes inside of you, filling you up at the same time he empties you. 

“Taehyung,” you try to whisper, but your mouth hardly moves. 

He’s drinking too much. 

The realization hits you too late. There are bite marks all along your neck, the inside of your thighs, your tits, your wrists. Taehyung has his lips latched onto one of your bloody nipples, lapping up your skin. Your bed is flooded in red, soaked through the sheets and into the mattress.

“You’re mine, love.” Taehyung runs a bloody hand down your face, leaving streaks along your temple. “Fuck those bitches you work with. Those pieces of shit who think you couldn’t possibly love someone like me. They’re wrong, baby—all this shame. Humans drown in it, but not us. We won’t drown.” 

Red tears stream down Taehyung’s high cheekbones. You want to comfort him but realize in a panic that you can’t move. With wide eyes, you stare up at Taehyung in a silent plea. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, love. You have to let go. Let go for me, and then I’ll keep you safe. Forever, I’ll keep you safe.” Taehyung brings his wrist to his mouth. There’s a sickening crunch, and thick, black blood slides down Taehyung’s forearm like tar. 

His elegant fingers squeeze your jaw, forcing you to keep your mouth open as he presses his bleeding wrist to your lips. 

“Mine,” Taehyung repeats as he smears his black blood on your lips and lets it leak onto your tongue. “And I will be yours, just like you wanted. No one else's.” 

Leaning down, Taehyung digs his fangs into your throat one final time and drinks until your last breath dies in your lungs. 

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#bts x reader #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #bts angst #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #halloween 2023 #bots

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 87

“Mother, I crave violence.” 

  Danny paused in the middle of his work, turning off the torch as he turned towards Dan. Who had once again be de-aged for destroying a world a few years before. (Ellie had cackled for hours about her being the older sibling now) The currently-six year old was scowling, definitely not pouting. 

  He raised an eyebrow, setting his tools down. “Jordan, we’re literally in an assassin’s den right now-” Honestly running into someone he’d met in his time-traveling was rather interesting, apparently his old rival had become so ecto-contaminated that he was immortal now. “-and I know you just got out of sparring, so are you really ‘craving violence’ or are you just bored?” 

  Dan pouted, sorry, he scowled. “Your ‘friend’s’ kids kept tryin’ to copy me and got in the way.” He hopped up onto one of the chairs, visibly not happy about not being able to fly as he glared at tiny legs. Tough shit, he knew better than to destroy worlds, they couldn’t always reverse time. 

   Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re just trying to play-” Maybe to a human they wouldn’t, but honestly everyone here was so liminal they were probably closer to ghosts than anyone except for Amity. Which had also been displaced in time after getting dragged to the ghost zone, so it had been soaked in ecto longer anyway. 

   “They got in the way and I almost stabbed Dusan!” Dan whined, despite what he’d insist. “At least Elnath can go intangible and Nyssa can dodge!” Ah, that was the issue. He’d been worried. 

   “Little sunbeam, you don’t have to worry,” Danny soothed, scooping up the ghostling. Even though he had been an adult, the chemicals in the brain and body were still that of a child’s. A young child at that. “The trainers are there to keep an accident from happening.” 

  Not to mention that he was rather confident that between Ras and himself they could keep any injuries to minor ones. Sam would have loved to meet him, Danny thinks. Honestly they would have been best friends, but Sam was off on another world on a mission to collect every plant in existence, so good for her, and Tucker was back in the reincarnation cycle. 

  Oh well, at least he wasn’t waiting for them alone, and maybe Dan having more siblings would help stop another timeline-breaking accident from happening. 

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #Danny fenton #league of assassins #ras al ghul #Danyal & Ras met when Danny was doing a time mission & trained together a bit #Ras was not expecting his old friend/rival to reappear hundreds of years later looking unchanged #Danny deserves to have white hair in his human form as he becomes more ghostly lol #morally grey danny #space core danny #his obsession is less general protection & more protecting what is His #Is Ras and Danny together Or are they platonically co-parenting #Honestly up to the writer #Hilariously Dusan definitely looks like he could be Danny's kid with the white hair and lazarus green eyes lol #Naughty ghosts get de-aged #sun core dan #moon core ellie #Ellie/Dani is named after the second brightest star in Taurus

[mari-the-bimbo]

Checkmate

A/N: This is part of the ‘think I need someone older’ series because I’m very behind on it whoopsie! Also have I watched Queen Gambit? No. Did I use the show as inspo anyways? Yes! :D

MINORS DNI, 18+, blow job, semi public sex? Dirty talk,

“You again Geto?” you ask with a sigh as you watch the older, handsome man with his jet black hair tied back, patiently wait for you at the table.

“Hey beautiful”

You try your best to hide your smile from the handsome man who always managed to win every other chess game to land at a game with you.

“You sound disappointed to see me y/n, I’m hurt” he says playfully as you sit at the table, scanning the board, preparing for a game of chess with him.

“Yet you find yourself here every time” you retort, he chuckles nonetheless as he begins. “I enjoy it” he says.

“I’ll never understand why you enjoy playing chess in a pub full of old men though” he says. You shrug your shoulders “I’m just better than all of you” you say as you move a pawn.

He laughs amusedly, it echoes across the room littered with a few nearly middle aged men, none of them gorgeous as your favourite opponent.

“so cocky” he swoons. “And what if I won today?”

“You won’t” you say confidently with a smile, he can’t help but mirror your smile. He was so lovesick for you.

“You wanna bet on that?” He says, you give a breathy laugh at his eagerness. “Ok bet”

“And what happens if I win the bet?” He asks, causing you to halt your next move on the bishop.

You raise an eyebrow at the mischievous male, debating whether letting the simp have a favour from you is a wise idea.

“What would you want to do if you won?” You ask. Fuck being wise right?

He smiles knowingly, licking his lips, but it’s too late to take back words.

“You let me have my way with you”

Your breath hitches at his statement. You glare at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means you can help me out with something I really need” he says.

“Oh really?” You say as you move another player, your head goes fuzzy for a second. Wait, was that the right player to move?

“Mhm, just a little something under the table” he says dirtily as he confidently moves another player.

You gulp at his suggestive words, you know what a man obsessed with you would want, but you never expected him to have this effect on you “what?” You say as you move your king.

He smiles before leaning in closer to you. You feel his breath on your neck, “is your mouth as good as your hands?” he rasps and you gasp, pulling away from him, glaring at the man.

However Geto’s dark eyes were no longer on you but rather your king who he just put into check.

“Checkmate”

You stare in disbelief at the board. How did he defeat you? He never wins against you, nor does he ever come close to it.

“You-“

“Aww man all the guys have left. They didn’t get to witness this beautiful victory” he mocks with a smile.

You squeeze your thighs together, hating yourself for choosing your desire for the handsome chess genius over your own ego.

He tilts his head and flashes a pretty smile at you as he unzips his jeans. “Well I guess it’s good they’re not here to witness what’s next huh?”

———————————-

You were, in fact thankful that all the other chess enthusiasts left. The pub staff too busy sitting inside, having a cigarette to know Geto’s dirty antics.

You’re not surprised when upon freeing his cock from his boxers, you found it was already rock hard and decorated with pre cum. He was horny this entire game?

“Dirty pervert” you mutter.

He laughs at you while reaching out a hand to caress your cheek, “you seen the faces you pull when you’re concentrating? How can a man resist?”

“You-“

But your sentence is cut off by Geto’s tip which he now shoved against your lips, pre cum wetting them.

“Nu uh, you can run your mouth when you win a game princess, until then, it’ll be stuffed with my cock” he says, leaving no room for protest.

He pets your hair as the pre cum around his pink thick cock gets licked up by you. He moans deliciously, singing your praises from his mouth.

“Ohhhh pretty girl, your mouth is just as good”

He enthusiastically grabs your head with his thick veiny hand to press his cock deeper into your mouth. You initially struggle to fit the girth of him in, but your choking is only music to his ears.

He laughs blissfully at the sound, “so cuteee” he moans, his hips thrusting harder every time, because the wet gummy feeling of inside your mouth was just too good against his length.

Your whimpers vibrate against his sensitive head, his praises is now mixed with curses as he ruts into your mouth as if you were a sex toy. His thick arm grabbing the wooden table for stability, because, oh god, it was so easy to lose his composure with a pretty thing like you in between his legs.

Heavy balls slap against your chin, and the drool trails down your face but you try to keep up with his eager stamina.

Finally he slows his pace when he makes you aware he’s about to cum, the creamy taste of his cum flows down your throat as well as trickling down your chin mixing with your spit.

You’re both panting as you finally take his length out of your mouth and look up at him from in between his legs.

It takes everything in you not to suck him off again as you watch him slump against the chair, black hair strands frame his face dishevelled, his muscular chest heaving as he lets out a satisfied sigh.

“Hey princess” he coos as he grabs your chin, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, he kisses your wet lips for continuing. “Maybe you should let me win more often yeah? I promise I’ll eat you out next time”

You give him a breathy laugh against his lips, “in your dreams Suguru” you say, even though you know you’ll take him up on the offer.

#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk geto x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto smut #geto fluff #geto fanfic

[steddielations]

It’s the stupid Garfield mug that does it.

Eddie tries to hide it because he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful to Steve, but he gets lonely sometimes.

He’s still in hiding, mostly healed up from the bats, staying with Steve while they wait for Hopper to sweep it all under the rug. No one would ever expect Eddie Munson to be at Steve Harrington’s house, it’s the perfect cover.

Not only was Steve surprisingly nice enough to let Eddie stay there, he also took care of him through the worst of it. He didn’t seem to mind having to stay home every night and every weekend, definitely not what Eddie was expecting from the party boy he used to hate from afar.

Now Steve’s the nice guy who spoon-fed Eddie soup and gave him orange juice through a damn straw and even helped him to the bathroom when he could barely move.

He’s too nice and sweet and funny sometimes. He even has a beat up copy of Lord of the Rings from Dustin that he squints at until Eddie gets tired of watching him strain, then let’s Eddie read to him. Eddie knows Steve does it more for him than for himself. Hell, Steve even comes home right after work most days, just to keep Eddie company.

Eddie can’t have many visitors, they don’t want to raise suspicion with too much traffic at Steve’s house, so it’s mostly just him and Steve. Eddie doesn’t mind, he’s halfway in love with him and gets closer to falling head over heels every day. He loves being here with Steve but sometimes… Steve reminds him of Wayne.

Every morning, Steve watches the news. Eddie teased him about it, saying he has the soul of a middle aged Dad. It’s stupid, but watching Steve mosey around the living room before work, drinking coffee and getting absorbed in the TV when an interesting story comes on, it makes Eddie miss Wayne, who does the exact same thing.

It’s so stupid how it’s simple things that make Eddie feel 2 seconds away from breaking. Not having to be quiet during the day because Wayne’s not there sleeping after his night shift. Looking at the wall and not seeing Wayne’s endless collection of hats and mugs. Not hearing the squeak of the old couch when Wayne sits down to take his boots off.

It’s so stupid but it all makes Eddie’s chest feel so tight and empty he can hardly breathe.

But he’s grateful to Steve for letting him be here, so he doesn’t dare complain about what’s missing when Steve’s already given him so much.

One morning, Eddie’s sitting on the counter and Steve gives him his coffee. It’s just how Eddie likes it, sweet and creamy, but he can’t drink it.

Steve used a different mug than usual, and Eddie can’t stop staring at it, orange and round. Wayne has one like it. It reminds Eddie of the Garfield mug that hangs by the door in their trailer. That tight feeling gnaws at his chest, and he sits there staring at it so long his coffee goes cold.

“Everything okay, Eds? Did I not put enough sugar or something? Do you need a straw again today?”

Steve’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, he flinches and the mug slips out of his hand, falling to the kitchen tile, shattered.

Eddie curses while Steve rushes to clean it up, telling him to stay put when he tries to get down and help.

That, too, reminds Eddie of Wayne.

He can’t help it then, he just laughs. It feels tight in his throat, sounds almost painful, but he laughs so hard he feels tears prickling the corner of his eyes.

Steve just stares at him, leaving the broken mug in his concern for Eddie, asking carefully, “Hey, what’s so funny? You alright?”

Eddie shakes his head, laughs dying down. “You know those mugs on the wall at my trailer?”

Steve looks confused, nodding.

“They’re Wayne’s, he collects them. I used to tell him it was lame and he should invest in something cool like hanging guitars or records,” Eddie goes on, grinning, reminiscing, “He’d always just laugh and tell me that cliche line, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, boy. I never understood you buying all them amps either, paying money to make noise.”

Steve smiles but he’s still watching Eddie carefully.

“Those damn mugs,” Eddie laughs again, rubbing his eyes, “There’s a Garfield one that leaks from how many times I knocked it over running out the door trying not to be late to school, and Wayne had to superglue it back together. He’d never even get mad about it, just snap at me to be careful because he didn’t want me getting hurt.”

Eddie laughs even harder, his chest twisting and writhing but it feels good, like he’s finally letting himself breathe, gasping for air. He doesn’t know when his laughs turn into sobs, but he assumes it’s around the time when Steve steps forward and gently wraps him in a hug.

They’ve never hugged before. Eddie doesn’t know how he could miss something he’s never had but that’s what hugging Steve feels like. He’s missing his Uncle, he’s missing a piece of himself but he feels close to complete somehow right there in Steve’s arms. He holds on tight, smearing tears into Steve’s t-shirt.

“I miss him, Steve,” he sniffs, bottom lip wobbling, “I miss those damn mugs.”

“I know,” Steve rubs his back, soothing, “I promise you'll see him again, Eds. And those damn mugs.”

Eddie laughs wetly and squeezes him tighter.

Within the next week, Steve keeps his promise.

Eddie almost drops to his knees when he sees it, has to rub his eyes to make sure he’s not imagining it, but it’s there.

Right there on the wall in the Harrington living room, there’s three mugs hanging up. Not just any mugs, Eddie recognizes all three. A green one that used to hang next to Wayne’s coat, an Indiana State one that went above the couch, and the cracked up Garfield one that leaks next to the trailer door.

“Steve, what—”

“I tried to get more, but Wayne was already suspicious by my third visit this week,” Steve shrugs innocently, “It’s just like home, right?”

Eddie’s torn between bursting into tears or laughter at the thought of Steve sneaking out of his trailer with coffee mugs in his pocket one by one, “You stole my Uncles mugs, Harrington?”

“I figured he’ll forgive me when I bring his nephew back safe and sound soon,” Steve smiles, charming as ever, “And if he presses charges, well, it’ll be worth it just seeing the look on your face right now.”

Eddie's chest spreads with warmth, his heart so full it could almost burst.

“Get over here, you little thief.”

Steve's grinning as he strolls right over to Eddie and wraps his arms around him. They've hugged a lot since that first time, but they've never kissed before, not even in Eddie's wildest dreams has he kissed Steve Harrington, but it's happening.

Eddie can't describe it, feeling Steve's lips on his, safe in his arms, warm in his embrace, but it feels a little bit like home.

#here's some free eddie angst with a dash of comfort from steve yum #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie headcanon #steddie fluff #eddie munson #rueswriting #my fic #mp #steve harrington #steveddie #stranger things 4 #eddie x steve #steddie fic rec #wayne munson #my fics

[luvsellie]

PEOPLE WATCHING [j. maybank]

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary jj ignoring one of his friends is strange. and off-putting. so when he does it to you, argument ensues and indifferent confessions toward one another begin to spill.

warnings rafe being an ass, mentions of abuse, semi based on s1 ep5 but also not?? don’t expect anything regarding the obx plot, reader is in a similar situation to sarah and kie’s social standing (kook-turned-pogue) !

wc 3.1k

note this song just SCREAMS jj i couldn’t not write something inspired by it! also this man is so ‘angsty-love-confession-in-the-rain’ coded why didn’t the obx writers take that chance when they had it >:(

you never thought you would see the day that jj deliberately ignored you. sure, he hated talking about his feelings, and he was too stubborn for his own good, but he had never once gone out of his way to avoid your presence. until now.

“he won’t even look at me,” you hissed at kie, eyes glued to the blond who maneuvered around groups of people, the tray in his hands lacking drinks. he had a smile on his face regardless, making small quips at people as he passed them.

kie huffed, moving her body to block off your view of jj. her lilac dress shimmered in the orange light as she said, “just give him some time. he’ll come around. he always does.”

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, spinning the ring on your index finger as you continued to try and get a clear view of him. “yeah. i guess you’re right.” 

the girl in front of you grinned in a way that seemed to say i always am.

still mildly offset about jj’s attitude toward whatever it is that you had done to upset him, you took a step back from kie, situating yourself so you could comfortably watch him once again. as you did, you noticed his back was now to you, topper, kelce, and rafe appearing to slowly herd him toward the building. the trio of men wore smug smiles, and before you knew it jj had lost his tray and swung open one of the glass doors, sprinting in the direction of the restrooms.

your eyebrows knitted together in sudden urgency, hand already swatting at kiara’s bare shoulder. “kie. kie they’re chasing him-”

“who’s- oh. oh,” kie said aridly.

“we have to go,” you told her, already gathering the skirt of your sage-green dress in a hand.

kie grabbed your arm quickly. “and do what? stab them with the back of our heels?”

“if that’s what it takes,” you told her stubbornly, ripping your bicep from her grip. “stay here if you want, i don’t care, but i’m going to go help the best i can.”

you didn’t wait for her response as you started in the direction of the door, gait switching between an uneven combination of a speedwalk and a run. whether or not jj was mad at you, nothing was going to stop you from assisting him in any way possible, especially if he was severely outnumbered. rafe was practically psychotic, his solution to everything was always violence, and topper and kelce only egged him on.

the cool a/c brought goosebumps to your skin, a chill shivering its way down your spine as you swept past people and furniture. fortunately, you spotted the dark-colored bathroom door, the sound of disgruntled male voices seeping through the wood. when you recognized jj’s, you didn’t hesitate to push past the barrier, deciding the consequences could be left for future you to deal with.

middle-age men immediately protested to your appearance, but you ignored them as you hurried in the direction of the overlapped voices, and, sure enough, you found yourself walking into the midst of the kooks jumping jj.

none of the boys noticed your presence, too wrapped up in whatever they were doing to grow aware of their surroundings. 

your attention zoned in on your beat-up-looking friend, the sight of kelce retaining him in a jarring choke hold resulting in your sudden outburst of, “what the fuck is going on?”

“oh, look who’s decided to join us,” rafe leered, his grin growing twice as big. jj continued to struggle against kelce’s grasp, saying your name dryly as his eyes jumped from you to the oldest cameron sibling.

“the hell is wrong with all of you?” your glare turned to kelce, his eyes narrowed in vain. “let him go or i swear to god…”

rafe’s face only continued to dwell with enlightenment at your interruption. he stood up straight and took a long stride in your direction, forcing you to spin toward him. he put less than a foot between his body and yours. “or you’ll do what-”

the air stilled as you slapped the man across the cheek, your palm stinging from the impact. even though he towered over your smaller person, you still sneered up at him, gaze narrowed as if he were no more than the scum on the bottom of your shoe. “you’re not the only one in this town who has a powerful father, rafe cameron. yours just happens to have the worst reputation.”

rafe’s fingers ghosted the flushed skin where you had struck him, eyebrows beginning to knit together as his familiar rage started to surface. he barely had time to speak, “you fucking bitch-” before someone cut in.

the flickering lights caught everyone’s regard, and you watched stiffly as kelce instantly released jj and spun on his heels. “gentlemen. ma’am,” a security guard addressed, “is there a problem here?”

jj was quick to jump in, rushing to say, “pardon me, officer, i just…” his blue eyes caught yours, but they jumped back the man in the black tux before you could give him a warning glance. “we just- well, actually, yes, there is an issue. we have a criminal trespass in progress here.”

you knew he was just doing the best he could to get you both out of the situation, yet you didn’t mask your rather disgusted expression as he continued.

“beep! call it in, right?” the blond urged. “blatant disrespect for private property.”

the boys around you nodded, avoiding eye contact with the guard. multiple yeahs circled the room.

“we’re in violation of all kinds of shit, sir,” jj said, barely taking the motion to glance at you over his shoulder. he turned to kelce, plastering on a fake smile. he began to straighten the cyan-colored bow tie. “but these young gentlemen…” his hand was quickly swatted away. “...uh, caught us, sir, and they were about to take us away. which is what you should do; escort us out of here.”

you watched as jj offered up his wrists before looking back at you. his brows jumped to his hairline in a silent plea to just go along with the nonsense spewing out of his mouth. still mildly irritated at him and everything about whatever the fuck is going to happen as a repercussion, you exhaled sharply and took a few steps in his direction, sending a glare in rafe’s direction.

your arm brushed against jj’s as you mimicked his actions. “you caught us, officer.”

the man rolled his eyes, but reached behind you, hands roughly grabbing onto yours and jj’s biceps. “come on.”

but jj seemed to feel that he needed to add to the situation, his adhd never failing to shine in moments like these. he turned to kelce again as rafe moved closer, topper behind him. “fix that tie, son. oh, and you’re lookin’ quite spiffy too. you powerpuff girls have fun, alright?”

just as the guard was about to lead you both through the exit, rafe shouted your name. “you know you’re pretty hot for a ‘pogue!’”

jj spun before you could even react, already storming in the direction of the smirking boy. ‘mister security’ left you standing in the doorway as he trudged over to the beginnings of a fight and ripped your friend from the group. “let’s go,” he snuffed, shoving the blond harshly.

you avoided jj’s aggravated gaze as you locked eyes with rafe, still being pushed by the man. raising a hand, you flipped him off. “suck my dick, cameron.”

“knock it off,” the guard said, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your arm. his warning compelled you to turn away, huffing air through your nose in annoyance.

rafe scoffed a laugh from his spot, highly entertained by the sight before him. “hey, safe travels back to the cut, you two!”

“this shit ain’t over!” jj hollered, earning a harsh shove in the direction of the exit.

as the man directed you and jj out of the building, you made a point to not bother interacting with the boy, ignoring his existence entirely, just as he had done to you previously. talking to him at the moment would only result in yelling at each other, and the idea of that was rather repulsive.

finally pushing past one of the glass doors, you attempted to wrench your arm away. it only ended with the guard’s hands squeezing even tighter. “dude, i can walk by myself- let me go.”

jj tried the same thing as you passed a distressed-looking kiara. “yeah, we have legs. can’t you see that, daryl? and, hey, thanks for the ‘discretion.’ let us just walk out by ourselves, yeah?”

nearly stumbling on stairs because of your heels, you made a noise out of exasperation, eagerly pulling back. “give me- oh my god, just let us go!” as heads started to turn in your direction, you desperately hoped that one of your parents would show up, but as daryl continued to haul you and jj (who continuously made comments to the people he passed) away from everything, you made one last hopeless attempt to get him to let go.

“wait!” you said, this time actually tripping on your heels. faking a stumble, you very nearly successfully fell out of daryl’s grasp. “these shoes are killing my feet. let me at least take them off if you insist on dragging us through the mud.”

he rolled his eyes, but loosened his grip.

bending slightly, you raised your left foot off the ground, undoing the buckle of your heel. as you stepped out of the shoe, you went to do the other, stealing a glimpse at jj. this is too easy.

finally standing on the bare ground, you turned back to daryl, shoving your heels to his chest. “would you mind holding these for me? thanks.” using the best of your strength, you threw him off, jj happily doing the same, and began backing in the opposite direction just as your father appeared from behind mr. carrera. his face went from confusion to anger in the span of less than three seconds, and you knew you’d be in for the biggest lecture of your life when you confronted your parents later. but for now, all you wanted to do was get off the property.

and jj seemed to have a similar idea, as his fingers brushed against your left hand, gesturing with the jut of his chin when you made eye contact with him. “come on.”

unable to help the satisfied smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth, you turned away, quickly following jj into the darkness as kie called after you.

“okay, i think we’re far enough,” you huffed heavily, slowing to a walk beside jj.

he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair as he nodded. for once he had nothing to say, and it made you stop on the sidewalk.

“so that’s it?” you started, grabbing his elbow and forcing him to look at you. “you’re just going to go back to ignoring me? after everything that just happened back there? at least tell me what i did for you to treat me like this.”

his blue eyes averted your own as he chewed on his busted bottom lip.

“what did i do, jj?” you asked as your arm fell back to your side, annoyance slipping into despair. “just tell me.”

jj looked at you, and even in the strained moonlight could you just now see how badly his upper left cheek was bruising. he was fiddling with the hem of his white button-up shirt as he stood, stubbornly remaining quiet.

sighing, you took a step closer, the pavement cool under your bare feet. he flinched back when you went to raise a hand. you licked your lips. “did…did rafe and the others do this?”

stiffening, jj lifted his chin and looked down at you, his expression morphed into something between disgust and vacancy. “no,” was all he said.

���oh,” you breathed, your body running cold, even in the humid night air. of course. “maybe you should come back home with me. i can-”

“no,” jj repeated more firmly, shaking off your words. “no, i don’t need your pity right now. go back to midsummers. you and kie looked like you were having loads of fun.”

you scoffed in sudden disbelief, realizing what this was about—why he had been ignoring you for nearly a full day. “i’m not- i’m not offering to care for you out of pity,” you told him bitterly. “you’re my friend, jj, and i’ll always try and protect you when i can. i’m sorry that you’re too naive to realize and accept that.”

jj took a step back, his hands balling into fists as he shook his head. “i don’t need your protection. i don’t need your compassion, or whatever the hell you wanna call it,” he spat. “and i don’t need you.”

“you’re just saying that,” you protested quickly, swallowing down the crack in your voice and blinking back the sharp sting of tears.

shaking his head again, jj’s lips pressed into a thin line. “go back to that big, shiny house of yours.” he wasted no time in turning around, his back straight as he walked away, the clarity of his figure growing less and less as he retreated.

unable to process the moment, you ran a hand over your face, forcing yourself to keep your composure and not yell out to him. what the fuck just happened? you thought, panic beginning to set in as jj officially disappeared around the block.

what am i going to do?

the house was quiet when you entered, and after a quick call for your parents, you realized they were still partying away at the country club. it was somewhat of a relief.

feet sore and dirty, you began to rid yourself of your jewelry, unclasping the chains around your neck and picking off the rings on your fingers. you set them on your nightstand as you shut your bedroom door, immediately falling onto your bed.

lying back to stare at the beige ceiling, you inhaled deeply, running through the events that had taken place. and it had all ended in jj leaving you. for how long, you didn’t know—didn’t even want to think about it. so, with one last sigh, you stood from your mattress, stripped yourself down, and headed toward the bathroom, already thinking up a plan for tomorrow.

“look, i wasn’t trying to make a scene,” you explained over the phone, shrugging your shoulders even though your parents couldn’t see. “it just…happened, i guess. i’m sorry.” there was a tense pause, filled by the sound of your dad sighing on the other end of the line. “can i please go now? we can talk as soon as i get home later, i swear.”

you heard unintelligible whispers before your mom said, “you cannot keep blowing us off.”

“i know, i know.” you really did not want to have this conversation when you were nearly at jj’s house, the sky murky with dark clouds. “again, i’m sorry, but you know i don’t normally do stuff like this, so can you guys please ease off?” 

“fine. only for a few hours. i want you home soon, it’s supposed to storm today. we will talk later.” your dad said roughly, irritation laced in his voice.

shoulders visibly sagging, you couldn’t help but nod in relief. “yes, thank you. love you both.” with that, you impatiently clicked the red button on the screen as jj’s house appeared. pocketing your phone, you spotted the blond in his yard, squatting next to his red dirt bike. and for a split second, you were just happy to see him, the events circling last night forgotten.

you approached quietly, making just enough noise to let him know someone was walking over. as his head turned, your jaw went slack at the fresh bruise blooming along his jawline. you cleared your throat. “hi.”

“hey.” jj returned to his bike.

“i, uh…i came to talk.” thunder rumbled from somewhere above. “about last night. about us.”

the entire way here you rehearsed what you were going to say, switching things out or removing them completely, but now, when he stood and looked over at you with a somewhat pissed-off expression, you found your tongue to be dry and your mind blank.

“what’s there to talk about.” he said it more like a statement and less like a question. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

you licked your lips as droplets started to wet your shoulders and scalp. “we both know that’s not true, jj.”

he wiped his hands on a cloth before tossing it into an open toolbox. shaking his head and sauntering forward, he said again, “there isn’t anything to talk about. you say you care about me, but you don’t. you don’t. do yourself a favor and stop lying to yourself. stop lying to me.”

“no, i do care, okay?” the raindrops began to fall harder, yet the only thing you were worried about was getting your point across. getting jj to understand. “i have cared about you for as long as i have known you. that first night at the chateau with the others…when you finally let me in…i didn’t know then, but i know now—i love you. a lot.”

jj scoffed and shook his head with an incredulous smile, his stare glued to the soaked grass, ignoring the weight of your confession. “you don’t know anything, alright? that night didn’t mean anything to anyone.”

“yes, it did!” you persisted loudly, frustrated with both him and yourself.

“no, it didn’t!” he snapped, reaching forward and grabbing the sides of your shoulders in exasperation. when you flinched at his yelling, a sudden wave of realization washed over him, and he released you with a step back, blinking rapidly against the rain. “nothing happened; nothing is happening.” he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than you. “you’re a kook. and i’m a pogue. we belong on two very different sides of this island.”

“jj,” you said softly. he remained still, hair stuck to the sides of his face as you went to cup it, palms resting against his wet skin. “just give in. for one pathetic second just forget about the social economic standing of everything and give in to me. please.” you weren’t sure whether the wetness on your face was your tears or the rain. “i know you want to, but you aren’t letting yourself. nothing you say or do will push me away. you’re stuck with me, pogue or not.”

his gaze flickered vicariously between your eyes and mouth, internally fighting with his own feelings. but, ultimately, you could see that your words had struck deep enough—that as the chill of cold water drenched your clothes and hair, as his warm fingers wrapped delicately around your wrists, thumbs sliding against your skin, you had won.

© luvsellie 2023 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj outer banks #outer banks #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #obx season 3

[fandomwritingbit]

William Afton x fem reader

Babysitter

A/N: This is a second stab at the babysitter trope because it’s just delightfully filthy, it’s not at all connected to the go I had before (which you can find - here). Also this is my first time writing somnophilia so I hope it’s good. 

Synop: Reader is a regular babysitter for William, one night she stays the night as he is working a late shift. He comes home annoyed and the sight of her asleep is just too tempting.

Warnings: smut, non/dub con, somnophilia, age gap, inappropriate relationship.

You pull the duvet cover up over one of the children you’re babysitting, her voice catching your attention with its whiny tone. “I can’t believe you’re making us go to bed this early.” 

You smile at her and shake your head. “Lizzie, it’s half nine on a school night. You know the rules.” She pouts looking at you with pleading eyes. You know that she just wants to stay up and spend some time with you, it’s not surprising, with two brothers it’s no wonder she wants some time with another girl. She looks up to you and as sweet as it is, you know better than to delay her bed time. 

“Pleease, y/n.” She tries again and you chuckle as you turn on her nightlight then her big light off, coming back over to prop her pillows up. 

“Nope.” You say through a grin, “Now lie down if you want tucking in.” She does, though her dissatisfied expression doesn’t shift. And so, bringing the duvet up under her chin you tuck it tight at her sides, just how she likes, knowing that despite the whinging she’ll be asleep in 10 minutes tops. You stand up and head for her door, stopping just before you leave, “Night night, Lizzie. Remember the quicker you get to sleep the sooner we can make breakfast in the morning.” The little lass smiles and you notice the sleepiness of it even in the low light of the room. 

~

Elizabeth is asleep before you can gather your stuff and lock up downstairs, just as you thought. So you go about checking on Evan asleep in his room as of an hour or so ago, happy to find him still settled. They’re good kids, never any trouble really. You’ve babysat for the Afton kids many times, as a local young lass with a liking for extra pocket money it was a handy job. You would pick the two youngest up from school, take them home and cook dinner, help with homework, all the good stuff. Their dad worked long shifts at his restaurant, so usually you’d stay and put the children to bed, getting yourself home once he’d come back. But tonight was different, Mr Afton had told you he won’t be back til the middle of the night and offered you to spend the night in the spare room; which you took him up on. 

The room is probably the smallest one in the house, not that you mind, it is a double bed with an end table and a chest of drawers. You put your bag on top of it, taking out your wash bag and heading to the bathroom, where you then ready yourself for bed. As it’s only one night you didn’t bring any pjs, only your clothes for the morning, so you strip down to your panties, take off your bra and keep the shirt you’ve been wearing today on, thinking that that should be good enough to sleep in. Yes, it’s revealing but if you need to tend to the kids you can always put your trousers back on. 

You don’t notice your discarded bra, abandoned on the bathroom floor.

Once in bed you set your alarm for seven in the morning, knowing you’ll have to help Mr Afton with the school run tomorrow. Again you don’t mind and you’re paid well for your time. And you like Mr Afton. God, how can you not? Such a handsome bloke, lean and sharp. Smart as anything too, you’ve listened to him talk on the phone, all business, shrewd and confident. Yeah, you like him alright. 

~

William gets home in the early hours, some time after 3am and the happy silence of his home isn’t enough to quell his silent anger. An incident at the restaurant has left him with paperwork up to his nose and a tonne of wasted stock, and with rent and utility on the way he was stressed to all hell. Even after staying nearly all night, there was still some much to do when he went back in tomorrow afternoon, and lord knows Henry won’t be helping much. 

He moves through his house as quiet as he can, careful not to wake anyone up even with his terrible mood. Poking his head in on his children, he smiles in satisfaction at your work. You’re such a good little lass, looking after them so well, you’re more than worth what he pays you. Honestly, the kids love you, even Michael isn’t annoyed by your presence and he couldn’t ask for a prettier thing to be milling around his house. He chuckles at that thought, you’re a damned tease even if you don’t realise it. What with all your tight jeans and shirts that pull away when you bend down, it’s hard for him not to look at you, but so far that’s all he’s done. That and a bit of harmless flirting. 

He pops into the bathroom to wash his face, hoping that will help clear away the stress of the day, except he doesn’t make it as far as the sink. Stopping still at the sight of your bra left on the floor. It’s a surprise to say the least, you’ve never struck him as the black lacy type, least of all when looking after his kids. And especially so given you’re not a careless individual. He grins as he picks it up, rubbing his thumb over the peak of the cup where your nipple would harden at such an action. The image goes straight to his cock, he’d wager you are much too inexperienced to wear such an article.

It would be a shame to just leave it there all night, so he keeps it in his clasp as he leaves the room, a naughty idea crossing his mind. 

But as he passes the spare room that he notices you’ve left the door cracked open. He’s not delusional, he knows it’ll be to hear the kids if they need you, but a very persuasive part of him wonders if you could have left it open for him. After leaving your bra in the bathroom it doesn’t seem outlandish, rather like you’ve left him a trail to follow and he wouldn’t dream of denying that invitation. 

The light from the hall cuts through the room as he cracks it open, his eyes quickly finding your sleeping frame laid on the bed and an almost sinister smirk creeps across his face. Such a lovely girl just laid there, having no clue that he was taking in the sight of you. Whether you did do this on purpose or not is irrelevant to him, there is only so much teasing a man can take.

He stands there in the doorway for a moment listening to the tickly feeling in his chest of doing something he knows he shouldn’t, his silhouette casting a large shadow into the room. It’s a familiar feeling but one that just never dulls. 

Still careful to be silent, William slowly enters the room, reaching behind himself to close the door, the room remaining dimly lit due to a lamppost outside the window. His hands move automatically to the buttons of his shirt, still unsure of what he was going to do even as he took it off, dropping it down to the floor. His belt was harder to take off without the suspect clinking noise but he manages it and his trousers follow suit. Standing over you there with his cock rock hard behind his boxers, he feels like some all powerful monster and it’s just delicious. 

The bed dips as he gets in beside you, lifting the duvet up and scooching in until his chest is pressed against your back, your warmth utterly intoxicating. You stir, a soft sleepy moan leaving your lips that makes his dick twitch. This is wrong in so many ways but he doesn't care, especially when his cold hand finds your leg, tracing up to the soft skin of your thigh and groaning when he feels the fabric of your panties. Though he skims over them for now, eager to feel more of you. It’s so easy for him to reach up under that shirt, trailing up over your stomach whilst softly grinding his stiffness into your behind, the knowledge of no bra making precum coat the tip of his cock. 

A cold hand grabs your breast, gently squeezing your flesh before taking your nipple between his fingers and tugging it lightly, it hardens instantly which makes him grin wolfishly. You again stir, arching your back into him, your behind rubbing against his erection. Your body subconsciously leans into the touch so he can’t help but give you what you want, largely because it’s what he needs.

So he shifts position, lifting your leg forwards to gain access to the part of you that was calling for him. He traces over your clothed pussy, brushing over your clit a few times and feeling your body tense with the slight stimulation.  

“Is that what you like, sweetheart huh?” He whispers, his breath spreading goosebumps along your skin, it doesn’t wake you but it’s close to. The throbbing of his cock makes him want you to notice. From there he slides his fingers under the fabric, immediately finding your core slick and gooey, he glides them through your folds, gradually becoming more risky with how he grinds his hips into you. The stimulation makes you moan, your eyes fluttering open and body instinctively trying to pull away, but he holds you firm, his other arms sliding under you to clamp over your mouth, disguising the sounds that tear from your throat. 

He shushes you repeatedly, his voice low in your ear, “Shush, sweetheart. It’s alright.” You’re ravaged by confusion, unable to tell if this was real, the fingers coated in your slick teasing your entrance and rubbing your clit felt achingly so, but how could this happen- it couldn't possibly be happening. 

You groan something into his hand and he briefly pulls it away enough to hear you, prompting you to say it again with a hum. Your brows are knitted as you speak, still trying to pull yourself away from him and the growing feeling building in your core. “...Mr Afton?” He grins into the back of your neck when you say his name like that.

“Yes, lovely.” 

You moan as his fingers find a perfect rhythm on your clit rubbing it vigorously and making the coil in your stomach tighter by the minute. “What… what are you doing?” It’s hard to speak, you’re so shocked that he’s doing this, that you’re living through it right now and that it feels so good. 

He doesn’t answer you, just chuckles into your skin, you aren’t riving away from him anymore but rather grabbing at the quilt now sticking to your sweaty skin, unable to decide if you want all this to stop or if you need him to continue. Your lower stomach is riddled with knots that are just begging to snap, the sensation completely overwhelming. You’re moaning pathetically, causing him to shush you again, you sound so good right now he’s dying to relieve himself somehow and just rubbing against you isn’t enough anymore, not when he knows how sweet and wet you are for him. And just, just as you’re screwing your eyes up ready to slam into your climax he stops, leaving your pussy twitching on the brink of your end. 

“Mr Aftonnn.” You whine, devastated that ecstasy was ripped from your tongue and desperate to feel it again. He moves behind you, pulling down his boxers enough to let his cock out, hissing as he strokes himself. You feel him pressing against your behind, then the stickiness of his precum smearing on your skin. 

“You gonna let me fuck that sweet little pussy?” The sound of his voice is so insanely dirty it has your head spinning, you nod, not remembering that he can’t see you. “Huh?” He prompts again, sliding his cock between your legs, the head notching against your entrance in such a way that it almost makes you jump.  

“Yes. Please.” You manage your voice hazy with tiredness and arousal, he doesn’t wait a moment, pressing himself inside the size of him stretching you to accommodate him. You whimper before he even gets to the hilt, your hands balled up in the sheets. 

He groans, sniggering slightly at how good you feel around him and unable to resist he starts fucking you. It’s an earth-shatteringly slow pace that has his tip pressing flush into your sweet spot, each time feeling like he was stealing the air from your lungs. The bed creaks with the movement, though he only just notices over the pretty sounds you’re making. You can’t help it, your orgasm is raising its head almost immediately and you want it so bad that you’re begging incoherently, grabbing at his hand which has found itself squeezing your breasts. And despite trying to keep the noise down his pace grows faster and more needy, the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking him in becoming more frequent. He’s muttering the dirtiest of things in your ear, mixed in with praise for how good you feel and how well you’re doing.  And it’s too much. Shuddering you hit your climax hard, muscles tensing as your wall clamp down around him and fluttering in the most perfect way. 

He grunts, fucking you more selfishly as your tightness begs him to cum. His pace wavers before he does shoving himself as deep as possible as he bursts inside you, filling you up without thinking. You gasp a little, still reeling from your orgasm but still aware enough to feel the sensation of his cum leaking out of you as he pulls out, leaving your cunt twitching. 

“Such a good girl.” 

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf movie #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #cw noncon #cw dubcon #cw somnophilia

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 6

The semester is almost over, and finals are just around the corner. Miguel and you had been tutoring students for test prep. Your help was greatly appreciated by Miguel, cutting his work basically in half, and he sees that you were good at it, too. It seems that paying attention in his class the whole year paid off. Granted, Miguel was fine as hell, so you never wanted to miss class.

You had to be honest, though, when you volunteered yourself to be Miguel’s little TA, you didn’t think it’d be this difficult. Is this what Miguel went through? For five years? Damn. Poor baby probably hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he started this job. You didn’t know how he did it, and it’s only been your third day of tutoring. 

Not to mention that some students were, and you hate to admit it… incompetent. There were moments where you had to refrain from making certain faces toward students who acted like they hadn’t been to a single class of Miguel’s. But because you were so kind and patient, you sat with those few and made sure they left that hour feeling prepared for their final. Now you understood why Miguel’s temper was a bit short. Yours would be too if you had to deal with students who never put in any effort. Of course, some classmates also knew as much as you did, only needing the sessions for review.

Aside from tutoring, you and Miguel’s relationship was evolving. Your heated kiss in the lecture hall has been on Miguel’s mind non-stop, replaying the scene over and over again as a bedtime story for the past week. He couldn’t believe that his dreams were coming true. You had him whipped. That one kiss was what broke the dam, and now, Miguel was unleashing kisses on you. He’d sneak one in at every opportunity he had. Every little interaction would go something like this:

Say you were on your way to a session with a classmate, it’s early in the morning, the hall is empty, and no one is around other than Miguel who you consequently pass by as he leaves his private office. The scowl on his face immediately softens when he sees you, all done up pretty like always.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He still sounds as if he’s just woken up, his velvety timbre filling the quiet hall. It felt like you were Juliet and he was Romeo, forbidden lovers meeting in secret.

“Oh! Professor O’Hara-“A small squeal leaves your lips when he pulls you into his embrace, his brawny arms enveloping you completely. You giggle into his chest, your hands snaking up his soft belly and around toward his back, where they almost touch. “Calmate, mama, no one’s around,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a sweet kiss there. You breathe in and smell a manly musk from the fabric of his turtleneck. You had to lift your head from his chest or else Miguel would not stop kissing you all over. It was like there was no ‘off’ button, there was only ‘on’ when it came to you,

“Miguel, I’m already running late, they’re waiting for me!” You loudly whisper, only half-trying to push him away since he felt so warm and soft, but you really did need to go.

“Lo siento, mamita, but how can I resist when you look like this? Can you blame a guy?” He steps back and raises your hand to twirl you like a princess. You smiled bashfully, your cheeks going red. He was so corny and he knew it, slightly cringing at his own effort to be “cool”. It made you laugh because he would NEVER act this way in front of anyone. Anyone except you. He smiled, laughed, and made cheesy remarks only for you. God, you needed this grumpy dork. 

“Migggg, stop it, I really need to go!” You softly laugh, covering your cheesy smile.

“Nunca, preciosa,” His voice is low when he pulls you back in, “But alright… how ‘bout a kiss before you go?” and with a smile, you get on your tip toes, and Miguel lifts you into a tender kiss, and when he kisses you, he breathes you in. It’s like you’re his life supply when he kisses you.

Just when you thought the kiss was over and you were about to be on your way, he didn’t let go of your hand. You look back, and you’re met with those damned puppy dog eyes, “Wait, one more? Please?” He was so pathetic, but how could you tell him no? Of course, you wouldn’t, so you come back and give him another deep kiss.

Once you two pull away, his forehead remains on yours and he whispers, “Otra mas? Porfa?” He coos. “I thought you said one more?” You teased his adorable pleading, but you took his chin with both hands and kissed him anyway. 

Two more kisses turned to three, four, five, six… and Miguel wouldn’t stop; “One more?”, “Okay, now one more.”, “Another one.”, “Otro besito…”, “no, not yet, one more, one more”, “mkay, last one.”, “wait wait wait, one more…” and the two of you broke into soft laughs as he kept asking for more kisses, you slowly trying to pull away as you were passed late now. With each step back you took, Miguel would step closer, keeping your body against his with his bulky arms. The once silent hallway was now filled with quiet, giddy laughter as Miguel attacked you with pecks. There was something so innocent about it all, the harmony between your high-pitched giggles and his low chuckles, accompanied by the continuous smacking of his lips on yours in a peaceful, early morning within the high-ceiling school walls.

“Miguel O’Hara, please!” You snap at him, still in a whisper, but you both just laugh. “Okay, okay, fine,” he finally lets go of you, watching you leave with a content smile,” I’ll see you later? Don’t leave without passing by, please,” you smile back at the buff nerd and his concern for you. “I will! I promise!” You scurry down the hall to meet with the student who’s probably wondering where you’ve been. Miguel doesn’t step back into his office until you’re out of sight, his mind still a little foggy from the interaction. 

If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that the grad student who always showed up in the cutest outfits, sat front row, and always gave him the prettiest, lip glossed smile would requite his feelings, he would laugh at their face (or simply just stare menacingly at them, more like). When he chose to settle down and take this job, he would’ve never thought he’d find you. You were that something he didn’t know he needed.

<3 

   You might’ve bitten off more than you can chew. By fault of your sweet nature, you decided to take in a few extra students, which left you in the library hours later, your forehead on your forearm, a bit of drool pooling on the table, and snoring.  Miguel had been doing some tutoring as well, though, he finished earlier than you and started doing some other collegiate duties. It was unknown to him that you did this, so he thought it was strange when you didn’t come by for that long. He knew you wouldn’t have left without saying anything, so he began to grow worried as hours went by. He made his way down to the lecture hall, but there was no sign of you there. He immediately started thinking the worst, a million different horrid explanations running through his mind as he picked up his pace through the hallway.

His heart eased when he saw your sleeping form in the library, the only light coming from the aged lamps on each of the tables, but the relief is short-lived once he realizes how long you’ve been working and how tired you must’ve been to fall asleep sitting like that. Making sure to be quiet as there were still two or three other students there, Miguel walked towards you, faintly smiling at your snoring.  

“Mama… Mamita…” he whispers, nudging your back gently, waking you up. Your eyes, blinking continuously, adjust to the dim lighting of the library and you make out the large figure beside you. It’s your sweet, darling professor.

“Mph… huh?” you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a yawn, “Oh my God, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a tired chuckle, your eyes still adjusting. 

“Mama, what are you apologizing for? Ugh, I should’ve come to check on you sooner.” He sat beside you, but then one of the students quickly hushed him, giving him a dirty look for interrupting their study sesh. He raised his hand mouthing ‘sorry’.  

"Did you need something?" you softly asked him, not wanting to be hushed as well, and he just replied by intertwining his long, girthy fingers with yours under the table where no one could see. "Nothing, mamita, however, I need you to go home. You weren’t supposed to stay so late.” He tuts, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles like he always did. He already didn’t like that you were tutoring on top of your own schoolwork, the only reason why he let you help in the first place being that you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Oh, Miguel, always worrying about everyone but yourse-” You were cut off by another hush by the same irritated student. You both looked back at them, Miguel looking back with a scowl this time. He looked like he was about to say something, but you pulled away his attention with a sheepish smile, “Maybe we should go talk somewhere else.” You whisper. Taking your advice, he stood with you and followed you to a more private section of the library.

Settling in a small nook area where the two of you are surrounded by shelves of books, you sat on the floor, Miguel following shortly after. “So, care to explain why you’re still here?” He speaks while finding a comfortable position. 

You both lay against the shelf, your head tilted upward as you respond, “I just figured I could help a couple more students, is all. I guess it was after I finished with the last student and started studying for my other classes was when I knocked out.” Miguel lifts his arm so that he can wrap it around you, offering a cushion between you and the hardwood of the shelves. 

“Do you ever not study?” he raises a brow, but you’re quick to retaliate, “Do you ever not work?” You both chuckle. “Touché.”

“How do you do it?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” You lay your head on his shoulder. “You basically run this entire department on your own. All I’ve done was tutor for a couple of days and look where that got me.”  Miguel chuckles at this. “I know sometimes it may not seem like it, but in all honesty, I love what I do, and you’ve gotta give yourself more credit than that, mama. You’ve truly been amazing, sweetheart. Always have been.”

“Well,” you snuggle into him a little more, relishing in his natural warmth that rivals the library’s cold air, “You helped.” Miguel returns the gesture by wrapping his arm tighter around you, sensing that you are becoming cold. “We helped each other, how ‘bout that.” you look up and smile at him, your cheek against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater (that fits juuust right on him). 

“Speaking of which, what’s this class you’re studying for?” you sit up straight and let out a tired sigh. “It’s another lecture,” you grab a hefty textbook from your bag beside you, letting Miguel take a look at it, “On top of creating a thesis, I have to memorize all of this.” He looks through his glasses that are hanging low on his nose and skims over the material.  

“How much of this have you memorized?” he still looks at the pages. “About half maybe.”

“Let’s fix that.” he sat up straight, positioning the book to where you can’t see its contents. “What’re you doing?” you’re suspicious of Miguel, knowing very well that he should be going home and not staying to help you study for a class that he didn’t even teach.

“I’m helping,” he clears his throat, “Which years did the ‘Modernist’ era in English literature begin and end? Please provide a short explanation of what catalyzed this period-” You ignore his question, attempting to take the book. “Miguel, you’ve done enough for today, you should be going home!” but he doesn’t let you have it.

“Mama, I just found you dead asleep while sitting up. You were gonna stay either way. I’d much rather be here so you don’t pass out again n’ make sure you get home safe. Please?” 

He’s literally the most perfect man ever. The person currently sitting in front of you just left his office doing whatever important task he usually occupies himself with to check up on you and is willing to stay here until you feel ready for your final. You’re convinced he’d do anything for you, and you’re right in thinking so. 

“Fine,” You’re beginning to realize how hard it actually is to say ‘no’ to Miguel, but you know Miguel was a bit of a pushover when it came to you as well, so you guess it’s alright, “But I feel like there should be some sort of incentive, though… some motivation.” you cheekily smile.

Miguel’s eyes shift above his lenses, intrigued by your proposition. “How ‘bout this. Every time I get something wrong… you get a kiss.” He chuckles. “Alright, and I’m guessing if you get it correct, then I should reward you with a kiss, right?” he says matter-of-factly, making you smile again. You were hoping he’d suggest something like this. 

He’d ask a question, you’d answer, and depending on if you got it right, Miguel would give you a kiss, or if you got it wrong, you “had” to give him a kiss (not much of a punishment, to be frank). You didn’t even wait for him to finish asking you a test question at times, you would just give him a tender kiss on the cheek just because. Some kisses, though, Miguel would get distracted, taking it from an innocent peck to a heated, handsy kiss, and reluctantly, you’d get him back on the task at hand. It got to the point where you ended up seated between his legs, and you'd start getting all these answers correct, so Miguel would plant kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin there. They would surely leave hickeys for the next day, but you didn’t care.

With your back against his hard chest and tummy, it was very hard to not delve into both of your fantasies. It was when Miguel began faintly bucking his hips against yours, his hardness expanding as he got blinded by lust again. "Miguel! Not here!” you'd whisper, and Miguel would groan in defeat. Trust, if you two weren’t in public, you would’ve let him do anything and everything he was thinking about doing to you.

That, having to stay quiet, and making sure no one was coming, it all made it feel like you were both teenagers again who were out later than they should be, laughing and shushing each other. 

The incentive being kisses actually worked in the sense that it kept you up, so not only was it an excuse to make out in the library, but it did technically help you memorize…

An hour or so passes by and you’ve gotten to the point where you know everything you need to for your final, but you didn’t want your time with Miguel to quite just end yet. You don’t know if it was the making out or what but you were suddenly wide awake now.

Miguel is about to test you on a topic one more time when he sees your eyes wandering the shelves, “You like to read, Mig? Just curious.” You look up at him. You were too tired to care whether or not you looked presentable enough for him, but he thought you looked absolutely adorable like this. Your hair lost its volume, your lip gloss was no longer shiny, and your mascara was a bit smudged from when you fell asleep earlier, but he found it so endearing. He wouldn’t have minded waking up to the sight every day for the rest of his life.

He closes the textbook, taking this as your way of ending the study session, “Yeah, I like it. I’ll read recreationally when I have the time.” He chuckled, looking at you like you were the only source of light on the planet. You shifted your head from where it rested against his arm and laid down on the floor, your head now resting against his soft stomach like a pillow. Your gaze focused on his hand that was now in yours. Your soft touch brushes against his more calloused, warm skin, playing with his fingers as you speak.

“What do you like to read? Fiction? Non-fiction? Give me details.” You continue to fiddle with his fingers. 

He starts to play with your hair with his free hand, moving any on your face, “Hm… I tend to gravitate toward non-fiction. You?"

"Anything romantic for sure," it doesn't take you even a second to answer, "Ever since I was a little girl, I always envisioned myself in those fairytale stories. Princesses, royal balls, a prince charming..." your eyes glanced up at him when you mentioned princes, and his smile grew.

"Oh, yeah?" He smirked, his brow raised. "Mhm. I kinda feel like I’m in one right now, actually.” His cheeks darken at this, licking his lips as he looks away to hide them. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome your smile is?” You add on, making him melt furthermore. He honestly can’t believe you’re saying all this about him. Miguel was usually the man that always knew what to say, but romance? Not his field of expertise, and much less when it came to you.

“Not really, no. Don’t show it much these days.” He looks back down at you, completely smitten by the angel currently lying in his lap.

“Well you should do it more often, it looks nice on you.” You’re not sure what came over you. It was so easy to praise him and watch him become goo from your words and touch.

“Then maybe I should spend more time with you.” Now it was your turn to be bashful. “I make you smile, huh?”

“Quite frequently in fact. It’s ruining my reputation, makin’ me go soft.” You chuckle along with him. “Just face it, you’re my big, scary teddy bear.” Miguel’s heart skips when you say ‘my’. As much as his past self would’ve hated being called that, he loved the possessiveness in it. He was truly yours, since the beginning. “Only if you’ll be the princess I protect.” You smile like an idiot. You hated him (you wanted him so bad).

“This actually reminds me of a certain story...” He ponders on a specific story, one that brings old memories. A faint smile grows on his plush lips.

“Oh, yeah? Mystery, sci-fi, romance…?” you say romance with a badly executed French accent, making him chuckle, “Eh… maybe it’s a romance…” He says with a growing smile. 

“Awe, I knew it, ya big softy. Which one?” You two began discussing your favorite romantic books. Turns out Miguel is a bit of a hopeless romantic himself, though, he’d never reveal that to anyone. You feel compelled to get up and search for your favorite book from the shelves surrounding you, which you both end up doing. Once you’ve found y’all’s respective books, you both return to the same position on the floor, but Miguel’s mood makes a shift. There’s a moment when Miguel’s spirit seems to die down, and you catch it. He looks down at the book with somber eyes. He flips through its pages, his brows furrowed and eyes narrow. “You alright, Miguel?” 

Miguel clears his throat. “I’m fine. Um...” He thinks about what he’s about to say and whether he should even share it. There’s a beat between the two of you. 

“What’re you thinking about?” You can see the gears in his head turn. 

“Nada, mamita, I’m fine.” He lies. He looks at you with a weak smile, but his eyes say differently.

“Anything you have to say is important to me.” You give his hand a small squeeze. “Please?” 

He squeezes back your hand and kisses your wrist. Miguel then worked up the courage to share something he hadn’t told anyone in what felt like years. Sure, his two closest coworkers knew about it, but that’s about it. Miguel didn’t have many, if at all, true friends outside of his work, but he felt you could be trusted. He felt that comfortable with you. Your softness tore down his tough walls. 

You learn that he had a daughter. Her name was Gabriella. He mentions how much she loved playing sports, being outside in the park, and how much she loved it when he read to her. The book currently in his hand was what she would pick almost every night. He’d read it in different voices for each character, making the story come alive for his precious little girl. No matter how many times he read it to her, she listened as if it were the first time. Seeing the little smile on her face made all the fatigue from work melt away. That’s why he chose it as his favorite book. 

He lost Gabriella to what he described as an ‘incident’, but you didn’t urge him to say anything more than what he was comfortable with, respecting his boundaries. 

“Sometimes, I’ll come back to this book and it almost feels like she’s here again.” He opens the book to the first page. Its cover and spine were intricate, the title reading ‘Beauty and The Beast’. 

He branched away from the book for a moment and began to go on and on about what Gabriella was like upon your request to know a little more about her, and instantly, his mood lifted. He speaks about her kindness, intelligence, curiosity, and her extensive imagination. He spoke about her favorite foods (sweets, of course) and even the foods she wasn’t a big fan of. He talked about their post-soccer game rituals of getting ice cream and how they would spend their mornings together eating their favorite cereal before school. With the way he spoke about her, a ball started to form in your throat. It was evident that he loved being a dad. You didn't think you could fall for Miguel harder than you already did until now.

Maybe that was why he was so hard on everyone in his class; maybe it was simply the paternal desire to see your pupils do their absolute best and succeed. It made you sad because this meant that not only has Miguel been alone for all these years, but he’s been alone on account of losing someone he loved so dearly. His precious daughter. And to you, that’s even worse.

You wanted to say how sorry you were for his loss, but you figured he’d heard that millions of times. You wanted to say something that actually meant something. 

“Gabriella sounds like a wonderful person,” You say with a small smile. Miguel looks at you, not really expecting a response like that, “And If you were the one raising her, then I know for sure she was absolutely wonderful.” 

“She was. Thank you.” Miguel looks down at you, you both sharing a quiet moment. “She would’ve really liked you.” He says softly, looking down at his lap where you were. His thumb caresses your cheek, making you smile even wider.

“Yeah?” You try to hold back any tears. This had to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you. “Yeah.” 

The moment is so sweet and so soft and it felt so nice to be able to just relish in the small silences with him. And when you spoke, your voices were barely above whispers. “She would’ve thought you were a real-life princess for sure. I know I do.” You blush at this, Miguel’s hand on your face only adding more heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“Well, I think I would’ve really liked her, too. I wish we could’ve met.” You place your hand on top of his. Despite you also feeling saddened by this, there’s still a sense of gentle positivity in your voice.

“Me too.” Miguel’s face softens at your response, scenarios playing in his head. Moments between you and his daughter. What life could’ve been like had his daughter still been here to interrogate you as soon as she had the chance, and then just as quickly become your #1 fan. He’s quiet when he’s thinking about this, and you feel the urge to hug him. 

You sit up from his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, Miguel’s face buried into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” You whisper in his ear before kissing his head. You rub his back with your other hand, feeling his breathing deepen.

Miguel lifts his head to look straight at you as if to admire you, “Thanks for listening.” You can’t help but pepper kisses all over his face: forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and Miguel feels like he’s in heaven. At last, he takes your face in both hands and kisses you on the lips. No other dialogue needed, the two of you sit in peaceful silence again, literally just appreciating each other’s existence. The moment is interrupted by the opening of a door in the distance. Surely a night-time guard.

 “Y’know… we can get in an awful lot of trouble if we’re seen together like this.” You break the silence with a whisper. The teenage-like ambiance returns, winning a smirk from Miguel. “I know. I guess I just can’t bring myself to care right now.” His eyes trail all over your face, landing on your lips. He kisses you again, his lips descending to your neck and his hands squeezing the flesh of your butt. Ticklish and breathless, you begin giggling, ‘Miguel!” but he doesn’t stop, “Miguel O’Hara! What if they see us!” you whisper. 

“Mm, like it when you say my full name.” he muffles into your neck. “Miguel!” you laugh again, trying to push him off. “Take me home! We have class tomorrow!” is what finally stops him. He may or may not have let the heat of the moment get the best of him. “Yeah,” He runs his hand through his hair and fixes his glasses, “You’re right, you’re right.” He stands up, offering you a hand. Without making it look suspicious, you both walk past the guard as well as a few students (who were either passed out or too deep in their downward spiral of an all-nighter). 

Miguel drives you home in something you didn’t expect a college professor would be able to afford. He had his hand on your thigh the whole way, but not before he asked if that was okay, to which you happily granted. The entire car ride, Miguel had you smiling, blushing, laughing at his dated jokes. You were so sad when he pulled up to your place, still not wanting the night to end even though you were tired out of your mind. 

“Thank you for taking me home, my knight in shining armor.” You lean over, puckering your lips as you wait for a kiss. “Of course, Princesa, anything for you.” You both share probably the billionth kiss of the day before he speaks again. “See you tomorrow bright n’ early?” you nod, letting out a soft ‘yeah’. “Alright, get some rest, beautiful. And don’t be late.” he playfully enters professor mode for the last sentence, and you play along. “Of course, Professor O’Hara. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Miguel kisses you again and bites your lip, the tension rising once again. “Mm, that’s one you haven’t called me in a while.” You giggle from how easy it is for you to excite Miguel, your absolute loser of a professor, but he’s your loser, and that’s all that matters. You feel his hand snake to your inner thigh, his tongue making its way down your throat, “Mm—Don’t get any ideas, mister, you should head home and get your sleep as well.” He lets out a defeated huff, “ay, Mamita, can’t keep doing that t’me…”

As much as you also wanted to be there with him, having him bounce you on his lap or taking it in the backseat, you also didn’t want for Miguel or yourself to miss class the next morning. Miguel agrees, sharing the very last, tender kiss of the night before finally saying goodnight to each other. You close the car door behind you and say one last thing through the window, “We should do this again. It was nice.” Miguel smiles at you, promising you he’ll take you to the public library one of these days. 

In exchange for more kisses, that is. Or perhaps more.

a/n: Haiiiiii, I hope you enjoyed <3 He's so cute n needy ur honor!! He simply just wants to be held!! I have 5k ish words to prove it!!! (So sorry omfg)

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my masterlist, bae! <3

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi i @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu @mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @love4saturn @sukunash0e @tinythebunni

#this is definitely NOT self indulgent….. #professor!miguel #dadbod!miguel #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel fanfic #miguel imagine #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara au #miguel o’hara fic

[wildemaven]

strangers : fog | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 5208 chapter warning's: 18+ blog: established relationship, workaholic Dave, soft Dave, miscommunication, Smut (slight exhibitionism, dry humping, orgasms, keeping kind of vague for the sake of not giving things away), implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), Dave’s phone makes an appearance- shocking, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, conversations with bestie, reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, this is au- no Carol (at least not canon Carol) or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: I kind of struggled with the end of this one. It felt very flat and blah, but thankfully @gnpwdrnwhiskey Is a gem and helped me, and it feels good now. So grateful for all of you who’ve been following along. Xoxo

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It’s sweet. 

But not the kind of sweet that aches and destroys your addiction. 

It’s perfect. Just enough. 

The kind of sweet that falls somewhere in the middle. Satiating that deep seeded craving that burns through your every fiber. 

Like a glass of ice cold tea under the Texas sun, sweetened to perfection. Each tantalizing drop coating your tongue, idly encompassing every single taste bud with refreshing pleasure. 

You're greedy. Reveling in your consumption. Take. Take. Take. Because it’s all you want and everything you’ve been needing. 

Finally.

You feel him everywhere. The weight of him is substantial, pressing you into the side of the pool. A secure grip onto the ledge, the swell of his biceps flexed as he does his best to keep you both suspended and unmoving from your secluded spot. 

He’s a blistering summer heatwave, one you’re fully hydrated and prepared for, but still stunned by its sultriness. 

“You think they’re watching us right? All of them so fucking jealous at how good I’m makin’ you feel.” You don’t bother to take a look when he says it, your head angled back and eyes closed as his lips work their way up your neck, your only concern at the moment. 

“Mmhmm— I honestly don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see how good you’re taking care of me— fuckbaby!” Your train of thought derailed when his hips jerk up with a little more eagerness than you expected. 

The cool water laps rhythmically against you both. The tiniest of splashes to your exposed skin as it surrounds your bodies, relieving the heat that’s burning through you. 

“Ahh!” You gasp at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Nipping and pulling. The gentle glide of his tongue soothing over the pleasant sting. 

“Sorry—“ He manages to get out. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, but also been wantin’ this so fuckin’ bad.”

His lips seal over yours again, groaning where he can feel you grinding against him, discreetly hidden below the surface of the water. Your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, holding him as close as possible. 

He’s unbelievably hard. Cock nudging against your aching core, the water aiding in the flow of your hips moving over him in search of relief. 

“I’m definitely not complaining in the slightest. If anything, I’m entirely enjoying the roughness— wouldn’t be opposed to more of it.” You say smiling against his swollen lips. 

Your words lure him back in, driven by a deeper sense of want forging beneath the water. Lashes fluttering shut as every bit of him consumes your senses. All tongues and teeth, tracing over every ridge and fleshy surface. A sweet delicate dance of unbridled emotions. 

It's a slow building, intensely breathtaking. Your body ignited by self-indulgent energy, so hell-bent on seeking out unrivaled satisfaction, but you don’t seem to care. Focused solely on how each and every nerve lights up because of him, desperately wanting a release. A natural response to the way he’s holding you, kissing you, his determination to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck— that feels so good!” Breathless and anchoring yourself to his warm body. 

“Yeah? You think you can come like this?” One of his hands settles on your hip, helping your unfaltering movements, hitting that ever so desirable spot just right. “There you go, gorgeous— just like that.”

“ohmygod!! I’m so close— don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.“ Your grip secure on his taut shoulders, unmoving even under the wet conditions. Your head falling onto his forehead, noses nudging, exchanging desperate wordless breaths. 

“I’ve got ya.” He whispers, nodding softly as your body writhes against him. “Come for me, Baby.”

“Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh fuck— I’m coming!” Everything dissolves into pleasure. Tense and blissed out as your cunt contracts around nothing. 

“Open your eyes, Baby. Let me see you come undone.”

You pull back just enough to see him. He’s beautiful, framed in a hazy white vignette. His patchy beard is both rough and soft beneath your fingertips, tracing over every little detail of him while you still can. His rich brown eyes now a golden hue as the light hits them from the reflection of the water.  

“Fuck— Joel!”

You’re floating. Further and further away. Every detail of him slowly dissolving into nothingness. 

Your body jolts awake, Oh god, That felt so fucking real. Quickly sitting up, your hand to your chest feeling where your heart is frantically pounding. 

The dry air from the vent billows out from above you, cooling as it skims over your tacky skin. 

The remnants of last night's headache still remain. Though it wanes in intensity, the throbbing pain continues. Rubbing at your temples, the added pressure doing absolutely nothing. 

There’s a faint familiar ache that catches your attention from below the sheets, prompting you to throw them off, finding a pillow still tucked tightly between your legs. The experimental squeeze of your thighs around the pillow sends a fresh ripple of pleasure from your fading orgasm, causing you to inhale sharply. Your palms clamping over your mouth, breath more constricted than the last as a strong feeling of shame begins to surge through your veins. 

The hotel room feels paralyzing, especially with Dave sleeping beside you. 

The beach. 

Needing some fresh air and some time to collect your irrational thoughts, away from this confined space where everything seems to be closing in on you. Hastily, you manage to pull on some warm clothes and sandals while throwing your wallet and phone in your purse without waking Dave.

You know the minute he wakes up to find you gone he’ll panic. It will take only minutes to have all his agent buddies pulling maps and running background checks on anyone who lives within a mile radius of the hotel. You’re already annoyed with his distant behavior, you don’t have it in you to deal with the added disgruntlement that will ensue. 

Grabbing for the monogrammed hotel stationary, you scratch out a note to leave on this nightstand for him to find when he does wake. 

Good Morning, Babe Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk down to the beach. I have my phone. Will be back in a bit.  Love you Xoxo

You two his phone screen, noting the time at the bottom— 8:00 am —a little tactic Dave had ingrained in you for matters as such, giving a starting point in the case anything were to happen to you, taking the guessing game of when out of the equation. 

A New Message glows on the screen, came in sometime last night after you both got back from dinner, he must have fallen asleep before seeing it. 

Double checking, you peek over the mound of blankets that is Dave’s solid body— still sleeping. The side of his face buried into his pillow and his plush lips parted. No worry lines etched across his forehead. No tension pulling at his jawline. His perfectly groomed hair, all disheveled and twisted in all directions. 

Your heart blooms at how handsome he is, his truest self on full display. A running joke between you, how others would be disappointed to find out his grumpy exterior is all a show, only reserving his softer side and big heart for you. 

Refocusing back to his phone, you tap the message to preview it— a message from his mom. 

Mom: Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. 

Did she find out? Find out what?

*

The beach isn’t far from the hotel. Grateful for only a few hellos and forced smiles exchanged on the shared path on the short walk.

The air is crisp the closer you get to the water, a light breeze blows over the shoreline bringing tiny bits of sand crystals through the air. You can feel the salt already crystallizing against your cheeks. 

The lingering fog adds a bit of gloom to the atmosphere as you look out over the horizon in front of you. The white caps of the waves slowly roll over into the next, pushing their way through until they’ve reached the shore. The water fanning out as it moves, blanketing over the sand as it reaches where feet are planted firmly, now surrounded by the frigid sea water. Then it slowly slinks back out, leaving you numb as you wait for it to return. 

Good Morning! Are you busy?  No. Are you okay? Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to.  One sec!

It takes a few flicks of the small metal dial for the flame to ignite, cupping your hand around to shelter it from the light wind threatening to squash your attempt at some sort of relief. 

It’s instant when it hits the back of your mouth, swirling and stinging about as it creeps up the back of your throat. That burn is all too familiar, no longer a regular occurrence, but definitely not forgotten. It takes the edge off momentarily, it always does. You imagine blowing out all your pent up anger as your release the smoke into the oceanic air. 

The cigarette sits between your fingers with ease, secure against those first knuckles as you bring it back to your lips for another desperate pull. That dedicated drag of your favorite menthol smokes had once been a regular part of your daily life in your college days. Getting you through long days of studying and working late hours, barely keeping your head above the water. Pack after pack. Light, smoke, tension gone, repeat. 

Eventually it was downgraded to a social practice before finally kicking the habit all together. Something Dave never pushed for, but was proud of you nonetheless. 

Your phone screen illuminates and buzzes simultaneously, a picture of Jacey double fisting some beers at last year's Fourth of July party pops up. The image alone already makes you feel better. 

“Mmm… Hello?” You can tell she just woke up by the way she garbles her words into the phone. 

“Hey, Jacey. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Mhmm— Kind of but it’s okay— had a bit of a late night, but it’s fine. How are things going?”

“Fine. Good. Things are good.” Trying hard to keep your voice even without giving away too much— but she knows you too well. 

“I’m calling bullshit. You’re seriously the worst liar ever. Spill.” 

“Ugh. Where do I even start?” You tell her, audibly groaning into the brisk pacific air. 

“I’ve got some time.” 

Jacey has always been this way. Available whenever you’ve needed her, at a moment's notice. Connecting with her in college, your friendship has been a steady source of support and encouragement through the years. She stood by you when you married Dave— having her now makes you feel less alone. 

“Well, if it’s not one thing it’s another. There were some high hopes for sex when we got in the other night,  then he passed out— which is fine ‘cause traveling and what not. But I got in my head, questioning shit about myself and our relationship. Like maybe it’s me or something. He did try to initiate the next morning but I just kind of wasn’t feeling it— so we didn’t. Plus he had phone calls he needed to make so he wasn’t worrying about them the rest of our time here.”

“Hey, it’s not you at all. Don’t ever think that. You’re a catch— Dave knows that too.” She says, her reassurance firm but delivered sincerely. 

“Thank you. I mean, we kind of fooled around at the pool yesterday.”

“Ooooh!! I love this for you.”

“Well, then he ran off right before I— you know.”

“Fucking men, I swear.”

“Only to find him on the phone when he said he wouldn’t be. Then he was all jealous over this stranger I was talking to. We got back to the room, things seemed a little tense— we still went to dinner. Don’t really remember much after that, because I kept ordering dirty martinis at dinner.”

After hearing the beginning of his phone call, the shower didn’t do much to help. You didn’t want to make a scene, deciding to just leave the hurt bubbling inside of you back in the room and make the best of the rest of the night. 

Dave seemed pretty much his normal self going into dinner. Conversation was lighter than it was earlier in the room. You both caught up on things that you hadn’t really talked about in a while— details about his latest assignments (within reason), your own latest work projects, random tidbits about things —things felt normal.

There was a slight shift in the evening, when he was checking his phone more often than usual. Glancing at the screen between bites of his steak then trying to figure out where you left off in the conversation. 

You hadn’t even planned on drinking, but the chilled cocktail in front of Dave had been taunting you, begging to help obliterate your lingering thoughts. Then it was I’ll have another, Maybe one more, Suuuuure another sounds grreat. The dim restaurant turned into hazy fractures of light. The steady buzz of alcohol had you feel giggling and sleepy, slumping back into the velvet cushion of the intimate booth. Dave cut you off before things turned into a wild evening, shifting from your introverted self into a very lively and friendly drunk. 

You don’t even remember getting back to the room, just brief glimpses of Dave undressing you and helping you into one of his shirts, then tucking you into bed. 

“Hold up. Rewind— you fucking hate martinis! What the hell happened?!” She knows you so well. 

“Jacey, you’re my best friend. Someone who will be straight with me no matter what. I think— Do you think Dave is cheating on me?” You ask meekly, inhaling another minty pull from your nearly finished cigarette. 

“What?! Babe, why would you think Dave is cheating on you? Did something happen?”

““No— I mean yes. I think so. Fuck! I don't know what to think. We got back to the room after the pool yesterday, talked for a little bit then I went to get ready for dinner. I guess he thought I closed the door or something but I could hear him talking to someone—“ You try to keep your voice steady, finding it hard to blink the tears away as the wind whips around you. 

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cheating on you. It could have just been more work shit he said he wasn’t going to do. Maybe he figured he could squeeze it in before dinner— not wanting to upset you.” Jacey is all about layout the facts and details before jumping down dark rabbit holes. 

“Ashley— Her name is Ashley. I heard him say her name.” 

There’s a beat of silence on the line before you hear her sigh. 

“Oh— what else did you hear?” She says, sounding a little more somber than before. 

“Nothing. My brain kind of went blank after that and I just got ready for dinner like I didn’t hear anything. Hence the abundance of martinis I drank my way through. Which also explains the slight headache I woke up with this morning.”

“Okay. So whoever he was talking to—“

“Ashley.” Details Jacey. 

“Right, Ashley. We don’t really know much, aside from that. So it could be anyone. Could be work related— Ashley could be a last name too. You know how they always do that last name first thing for whatever reason.” Somehow she always finds a way to get you to back away from the cliff, especially when your feet are over the edge. 

“Yeah, probably.” You say softly in agreement. A flock of birds catching your attention, their wings moving in unison as they fly overhead. 

“Look, like you said before— I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think Dave is cheating or would ever cheat. That man loves you. Sure, he’s kind of been a little too invested in work, which is affecting things with you. I don’t think there’s someone else. I promise. But I do think you both need to talk instead of this weird dance you both are doing, that way you’re both on the same page.”

“Okay. Yeah— you’re right. Thank you, Jace. Last thing— Does it make me a bad person if I had a dream about another man last night?” You ask, feeling a bit embarrassed as you voice it out loud. 

“I have those all the time— especially with that cute actor from that narcos show we love. Dreams don’t equate to real life.” She only slightly laughs at your confession. 

“What if it was with a guy I met at the pool who’s staying in the hotel, who listened to me spill my life away about how I’m not sure if my husband wants kids or not now— and how marriage feels like a mess.” 

“Oh! Pool guy was cute— No, I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. It was a dream. You’re fine. Hey, I hate to bail on you— but I’m umm, getting another call. We will chat soon, then you can give me more details about the cute pool guy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Jace. Talk soon. Bye.”

The call clicks out. Waves crashing onto the shore brings you back to the beach. Your cheeks cold and feet stinging as the water recedes again. 

It's nearing 10 am now, deciding to head back before Dave does in fact worry that you’ve been gone for too long. You snuff out the smoldering cigarette in the wet sand and stick it in your bag to dispose of later. The added nicotine now mingles poorly with your lingering hangover, body in desperate need of water and a strong pain reliever. 

On your way back to the hotel, you take every bit of what Jacey said and truly let it sink in, even as hard as it is to not let your mind wander into dark territory. She’s right though, it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on situational events if you have zero proof of anything. That doesn’t mean that you’ve written off your uneasiness completely, just simply tucking it away for the time being. 

The sweet bellmen welcomes you back with a friendly smile and a wave as he holds the door open for your return. The lobby now bustles with more guests than earlier. Some checking in for their stay, others enjoying the picturesque ambience of the hotel. 

In the time that it takes to get up to your room, you’ve run through several different scenarios in your head. All feeling immensely overwhelming at the thought of talking with Dave about how you’ve been feeling since he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the subtle inklings that there’s been a definite shift in your relationship the past few months. You’re not really sure you even want to have the conversation now, let alone here— not wanting to ruin the rest of the vacation in the chance things don’t go as smoothly as you want. You ultimately decide to wait, once you’ve settled back in at home, finally address everything with him.

You can hear Dave’s voice muffled outside the door of your room as you search for your key card in your bag, sounding as if he’s talking to someone on the phone. 

The room is bright as you enter, the curtains pulled open allowing the sun to shine through the large windows. The bed is somewhat made with the pillows stacked neatly and sheets straightened in an orderly Dave manner. 

Food had already been ordered and delivered, set out on the small table on the balcony. Your favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and toast along with a fresh pot of coffee. Dave’s usual eggs and bacon sit untouched, waiting for your return to enjoy breakfast together. 

Dave’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the scenery with his phone to his ear, but the sound of you entering the room has him turning towards you. 

His hair is freshly washed, combed up and out of his face. Wearing his favorite blue jeans snug around his hips, a white patterned shirt just barely buttoned to reveal enough of his slightly burnt chest to make your mouth water. It’s his beaming smile, arguably his best accessory, that makes your chest flutter, drawing you in closer to where he’s standing. 

“It’s my mother.” He whispers, covering the phone with his hand as she continues to talk into his ear. 

Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. Still wondering what her vague text message meant. 

“Yeah, Mom. She just walked through the door.” You hear her mention your name through the speaker. “My mom says hi.”

“Hi, Carol.” You say sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek before turning to place your bag on the ground near the dresser, leaning back on the wall, watching Dave as he finishes the rest of the conversation. 

“Okay, sounds good…Tell dad hello for us and we’ll talk to you later… Love you, too… bye.” The screen of his phone goes black and he tosses it over to the bed. 

Grabbing a glass and some small pills resting on the dresser, closing the short distance to where you’re standing and holding the water and pain reliever out to you.

“I figured your head is probably killing you this morning.” Dave says smiling at you, no sign of annoyance in his face. 

“Thanks— Sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Tossing back the pills back, gulping the water down quickly, your focus on the remaining drops of water sliding down the side of the glass, pooling together at the bottom. 

Dave takes the glass from you, setting it over on the top of the dresser. One of his hands settles on your hip as the other tilts your chin up so your gaze is now directed at him. 

“Did you have a good walk?” Dave asks. One of his warm hands now cupping the side of your neck, surely he can feel the way your pulse is quickening, elevated just by a simple touch from him. 

“Yeah. It was nice— foggy, but beautiful. We should go again before we leave.” Your hands migrate to his shirt, fingers absentmindedly toying with the top abandoned buttons and soft silky fabric.

“Umm— I can smell the smoke on you. It’s fine, I don’t mind that you were— but is everything okay?” He knows, senses something is off, because he knows you don’t just smoke to smoke these days. Senses there’s something that triggered your need for your old vice, something to dull out whatever is silently bothering you. 

Yet somehow you have almost forgotten about the cigarette until now when he asks. Feeling a bit of shame for the second time again this morning, though you don’t pick up on any sort of judgment when he does ask about it. 

“Everything is fine. Just sounded good so I bought them on my way to the beach— don’t think I’ll even finish the pack though. I’m good.” Liar. You hate the way Dave winces at your answer. He knows there’s something simmering below the surface, but he doesn’t push for more. 

“Okay— okay. There’s breakfast here and I was thinking afterwards we could go to some shops or something. I made reservations for tonight at 6, I thought you might want to find something new to wear. Maybe we can grab some lunch near the beach too.” He tells you, brushing off the small specks of sand cemented to your face. 

You find yourself on the brink of tears, swallowing the little lump that started to form in your throat. Certain the next few days would be filled with worriment and noiseless vexation. There’s almost relief in hearing how he’s planned out the day, something he hasn’t done in months. Work and meetings always at the forefront of his planning lately, leaving little to no time for dinners or regular weekend getaways. 

“Or we can stay in if you want.” His head tilts a little, brown eyes scanning over every detail of your face as you mull over his plans a little longer than he expected. 

“No, that sounds nice. I brought some dresses that I can wear though, we don’t have to buy anything.” You shake your head in response. Pushing a few loose strands that had fallen out of place, his eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair. 

“We can just look, and if you find something you like we can get it.” Dave suggests— a nice middle ground. 

He leans in, his nose knocking against yours, humming as you continue to play with his hair. 

“Okay.” You breathe out, his intense eye contact starting to ignite something within you. 

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Offering you another opportunity to bare it all out for him. 

His lips graze over yours when he asks, just enough to have you wanting more. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine— promise.” 

“Alright. Let’s get some food in you and then we can get ready to head out. And there’s coffee—” His thought abandoned, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss. 

You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. Your head swirling with want, thrilled at the fact that he’s so keen to give you exactly what you’ve been craving. The scent of his cologne mixed with the musky smell of him fills your senses, making you weak for him even more.

His tongue explores your mouth, tangled together in a heated dance as your bodies grind against each other, arousal growing with each passing moment. 

His hands roam freely over your body, stopping at your hips to pull you in even closer has you gasping into his mouth.  

“Fuck— Dave!”

“Yeah— that feel good, Baby?” Dave’s hard almost instantly, pressing against you as you slowly grind on him. You're scorching from the friction of your bodies, the coil already winding in your lower abdomen, shivers tingling up your spine.

“Yes!! Oh god, yes!! So good, Dave!” You cry out. The heat between you unbearable, the need for release is all consuming—- more more more. 

Dave’s lips fuse to yours again, dragging one hand down between your bodies. He slips under the waistband of your leggings, deft fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties, a sticky mess because of him. He’s enlivened by the way your body writhes as a result of his touch. Fingers circling over your clit in a deliberate frenzied manner, causing you to release a breathy moan into his mouth.

“You think you can come right here? I’m not gonna last much longer.” He says breaking the kiss. His eyes are filled with a burning desire as he looks at you. You nod, encouraging him to continue his ministrations, before he’s capturing your lips again. 

You whine at the loss of his fingers moving over your aching bundle of nerves, your body in dire need of his touch now that he’s giving you all of it. 

Dave’s hands slip under your top, fingers trailing over your pebbled skin as he pulls it up and over your head. You help him, tossing it aside, leaving you in only your lace bra and bottoms as you lean back against the coolness of the wall, chest heaving with need.

“More— pl-please, I’m almost there. ohfuckyesyesyes!.” His hands explore your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a new surge of want and urgency, his fingers trailing down your back to grip your ass and pulling you closer— sparks of pleasure blazing through you nearing a fiery release. 

‘I know baby, I’ve got you’ murmured against your neck, his words riddled with assurance as he sucks on the sensitive skin there. 

Your hands grip his shoulders as he continues to explore you with his mouth, caressing every inch of you as he makes his way down to your chest, pulling the fabric of your bra down, his fingers gliding over the tight skin. He cups the weight of your breast in his hand, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth gently nipping as you moan louder and louder, while his other hand fondles and twists at your other side. 

“Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come—“ You gasp, arching your back, your nails digging into Dave’s shoulders has him clamping down harder on your overly sensitive nipple. The pleasing painful sting shoots straight to your core, your velvet walls pulsating, your climax within reach.

A pleasurable ache builds for the second time this morning, except this time it’s because of Dave. All your pent up emotions forging together, building into the most magnificent wave of arousal you’ve felt in a long time. 

You pull his face up to meet yours, lips messily crashing against his in another bliss driven kiss. His hard cock straining behind the tightness of his jeans, tilting your cunt at the perfect angle while hoping Dave is reaping the benefits of your euphoric pursuit as you grind down on the rough seam of his denim that helps careen you over the edge. 

It’s like a dream— except it's not, it’s better. Real and satiating. Your orgasm is forceful as it rips through you, taking every bit of residual tension along with it. 

Dave’s movements become faster and more charged. His hips moving in a stuttering pattern— fuckfuckfuck —then stilling as a deep groan barrels through his chest. You wrap a leg around him as he collapses into you, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, holding him tightly to your body. 

A breeze blows through the open balcony door, diffusing the layer of sexual haze wafting through the room. The air is welcoming, enveloping your bodies in the crispness that comes with being in close proximity to the Pacific. 

It feels lighter. Less suffocating— even with the weight of your husband holding you against the wall. The low lying fog no longer a dense cloud looming over you, allowing the brightness to fully shine through. 

The turbulent thoughts have settled, replaced with a mildness that seems more manageable for the time being. Your headache becomes a subsiding dullness, overpowered by the replenishment of a compelling desire. 

“Shit— I came in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager. Couldn’t even make it to the bed.” He says, post sexual vibrato etched into his voice, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he lifts himself up to his full height. 

Dave’s skin is glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening in the morning light. His cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, the muscles in his neck flexing as he worked to control his breathing. The silkiness of his shirt now damp and stuck to his chest. 

“Hmm. I feel too good to even care. You have no idea how bad I needed that.” You smile at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing a few fallen strands of hair away from his face. 

The corner of his eyes crinkle. He’s beaming, infatuated with you as he leans in, resting his forehead on yours and whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?.” 

“Love you too, Dave.”

#Dave York #dave york x reader #Dave York x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

[xjustakay]

✺ (4/5) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: slap — 1,630 words (dad james and librarian regulus - flirting edition; pt.1)

It’s become a habit over the course of a couple of months. 

James takes Harry to the library more than Lily does these days. It was a simple ‘the library is closer to my place anyway, no sense in going out of your way when you don’t have to, Lils’ that he’d offered as his reasoning. Of course, he knows Lily isn’t stupid. She likely sees right through him, but she’s yet to say anything or try to slap some sense into him, so he’s taking the small favor for what it is.

Harry, in all his six year old excitement to visit one of his favorite places, remains oblivious to there being any other intention to their trips to the library. And really, James is glad that he gets to do this with Harry —it’s not completely selfishly oriented that he suggests they go. Harry loves reading, loves exploring different fictional worlds on page, loves getting new books suggested or read to him when they’re there.

It’s just that, well. James is reaping some additional benefits, that’s all.

Except, they’re not exactly benefits, because while seeing Regulus is its own treat, the two of them still seem to be dancing in circles around each other. Some days James isn’t sure if he’s picking up on genuine signs or simply concocting them for himself —a story with a happy end that he’s telling himself in his head like the ones he reads to Harry before bed.

He feels a little crazy, admittedly, cataloging their interactions like it’s his job, like every little thing potentially means something. It’s like he’s got a schoolboy crush all over again at the age of twenty-seven. But if there’s one thing in this world that James Potter seems to be good at, it’s romanticizing that which may in the end mean very little.

Still, he’s got his list. 

A story time in the children’s room one week where Regulus, in the middle of answering and asking questions of the kids about the book he’d read them, had stolen more than a couple glances James’ way at the back of the room. Days where grey eyes brightened upon looking away from greeting Harry to find that James was the one that brought him to the library that day. Questions about what James does for work and for fun, or what sort of thing James likes to read, followed by book recommendations.

James has also noticed, though, that every time he sees Regulus, as much as there’s something lingering there between the two of them, there’s something else, too. 

Regulus always asks about Lily. Asks how she’s doing, what she’s been up to, if Harry read his most recent check-outs with her. There had even been a day where James and Harry had come up to the counter to check out Harry’s new selection of books and Regulus had pointed out that he’d held onto a book specifically for Lily, remembering she had been waiting a while for it to be available.

And sure, maybe it’s just that Regulus met Lily first, that he’s nice and is considering Harry’s mum even when she’s not there, but… Just as he’s over-thought every one of their own interactions, James can’t seem to help overthinking this, as well.

In a rather rare turn of events, James is at the library today without Harry. Harry’s at his mum’s, but he’d left his books at James’ place. A borderline distraught phone call had been received that morning, Harry lamenting ‘I can’t have overdue books, dad! I’ve never had overdue books!’ Lily doesn’t have time today to come pick them up and bring Harry to take care of them, so James had promised to turn them in for him.

It works out perfectly that when he enters with the few books tucked under his arm and approaches the front desk, Regulus is the one sitting there. One person is in line in front of James, but he notices how Regulus clocks him walk up behind the woman, an unhelped twitch at the corner of his mouth. He says a polite thank you and wishes a good day to her before it’s James’ turn.

Regulus tilts forward to peek over the edge of the high desk, his brow creasing. “Where is he?”

James lets out a quiet laugh. “So sorry that I’m not enough for you, Regulus.”

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes but James doesn’t miss the pretty pink color his cheeks turn even as he tries to distract from it by wiggling his fingers for the books James holds. “You just don’t usually come alone, that’s all.”

James hands over the books, his grin inching wider. “I can come alone more often if you want me to. Just say the word.”

Regulus huffs an unsteady laugh, cheeks reddening even more. He won’t meet James’ eye as he starts scanning book barcodes and entering return dates. It’s quiet for a few long moments, Regulus doing his job and avoiding James’ gaze while James continues watching him in fond amusement.

After the pause has gone on for a bit, Regulus ends up asking, “Is Lily no longer going to be bringing Harry in?”

Ah, there it is.

James sucks his teeth and shakes his head. “No, I’m sure she’ll be around again. She’s just—been a bit busy with work and such.”

“I see.” Regulus nods, glancing up from scanning a barcode to flicker his gaze over where James stands. “Well, at least Harry’s got you to bring him, right?”

“Right.” It comes out shorter than he meant it to, and Regulus notices if the arch of one dark brow is anything to go by. He doesn’t know why he says it, doesn’t know why the thought even crosses his mind, but before he can stop himself, James offers, “I can give you her number, if you’d like?”

Regulus slows in setting the returned books aside. “Why would I need Lily’s number?”

“I just—assumed you were interested.” James shifts from one foot to the other.

A comically confused expression twists up Regulus’ features. “In Lily?”

James blinks. “Um, yes?”

“You think I’m interested in Lily?” Regulus repeats; he looks less confused now, more as if he’s barely containing his own laughter.

“Well, you ask about her all the time!” James points out, a touch too loud —there’s a quiet shushing in warning from another librarian further down the desk that earns an apologetic look from him.

“James.” Regulus can’t seem to help laughing this time, has to press a hand over his mouth for a moment, eyes pinching closed and head shaking as he collects himself. When he’s done so, he clasps his hands together on the desk in front of him and meets James’ eye evenly. “Did you ever think, maybe, the reason I ask about what Lily’s up to and if she’ll be coming around again is because when she doesn’t, it means that you do?”

It’s James’ turn to look confused, a disbelieving huff coming out of his mouth. “And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, just tell me that you like seeing me?”

“I could have, I suppose.” Regulus leans back in his swivel chair, arms crossing over his chest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward, eyes shining with mirth. “But you were already being so painfully obvious, I thought at least one of us should be a little more subtle.”

James manages to make an affronted noise, but it’s almost more startled laugh than actual offense. “You’re fucking with me right now.”

“Language, mister Potter.” (James is decidedly not blushing at the joking admonishment, thank you.) “This is a family friendly establishment.”

He lifts his hands in mock surrender, grin stretching wide across his face. Regulus eyes him for a moment, drumming his fingers against the bend of one elbow.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared that up—”

“Have we?” James snorts.

“I’m not interested in Lily, you’ve been hopelessly interested in me from day one. I think we’re clear,” Regulus confirms.

Hazel eyes narrow in playful challenge. “You’re just as interested in me, too, don’t forget that.”

An absent hum. A tilt of his head. “And what are you going to do about it?”

It’s an excellent question, James wasn’t prepared to get this far today. He wasn’t totally positive he’d ever get this far, if he’s honest. Now that opportunity has arisen, however, he’s not foolish enough to waste it.

“What are you doing Saturday night?” He asks, leaning his forearms against the edge of the desk.

“I don’t know. Where are you taking me?” Regulus quips, dark brows lifting.

“I think I’ll keep it a surprise. Can’t be too obvious now, can I?” James toys.

Rolling his lips together barely hides Regulus’ growing smile. He hums once again, nodding in agreement. James thinks that’s it, that they’ll say goodbyes for now and go the next few days in building anticipation for an awaiting first date. Except, Regulus holds up a finger to tell him to wait and wordlessly slides off his chair to go to one of the shelves behind him used for reserved books. 

When he turns back around, he drops another of the Magic Treehouse books Harry’s been so invested in as of late onto the counter with a quiet slap. James glances at it then at Regulus again with an incredulous smile.

“It’s the next one in the series for Harry. We only have one copy on hand. I didn’t want him to not be able to get it when he brought his returns in,” Regulus explains.

“No wonder he likes you so much, you spoil him,” James teases.

Regulus smirks and, without missing a beat, he replies, “And what’s your excuse?”

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #andddd part 2 the end -jazz hands- #little shit regulus my beloved #have i mentioned that i love them? #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing