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querenciasturniolo · 9 months

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guest ⮕ m.s.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: swearing, awkward flirting, embarrassment

summary: request

a/n: this was requested by @rainsoakedphoenix, and i had SO much fun writing it (even though it took ages) ! sorry for the mix up, i hope this works 😭💓 i wrote this while watching the new season of heartstopper, which is AMAZING by the way

(this is like 89% dialogue, which i’m sorry if it wasn’t your vision, but i tried my best 🤞🏻)

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

“Good morning campers, and welcome to the Cut the Camera podcast. I’m Nick Sturniolo.”

“I’m Matt Sturniolo.”

“And I’m Chris.”

Your eyes flickered between the three of them, reaching your hands up to adjust your headphones. Nick finally turned his head to you.

“We have a special guest for this episode, introduce yourself.” He said.

You looked at one of the cameras and smiled, lifting your hand to wave.

“Hey, I’m Y/n.” You said, wincing slightly. “Jesus, that was awkward, someone else talk now.” Matt pulled a face, you looking over at him and mocking him playfully.

“Like some of you know, Y/n is one of our good friends from home. She hasn’t been in much of our content because she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing, but that’s fine, we love her anyway.” Nick said. You scoffed and leaned back in the diner seat, pulling the mic with you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m just an awkward piece of shit.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “S’not my fault your fans love watching me suffer.”

“Well that turned dark. Anyway, Y/n, why don’t you introduce the topic.” Chris said. You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Today we’re talking about how the four of us met, and how I’ve continued to endure their torture for so long.” You paused, Matt’s jaw slack as he looked over at you. You grinned and shook your head. “No, I’m kidding. They’re pretty great, I’m glad they’ve tortured me for this long.”

Chris scoffed. “You love us and you know it.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I said, but if you want to get all mushy already, then yes, I love you guys.” You said.

Nick awed next to you, Matt leaning over and bumping your shoulder with his.

“You’ve always been the lovey-dovey one. Y/n has called me at like six o’clock on a random Tuesday before just to tell me she was thinking about me.” Nick said. You covered your face with your hands and groaned.

“God, why must you expose me? Let them think I’m dark and gloomy.” You grumbled.

Matt scoffed then, the audio coming through your headphones clear enough for you to peek an eye through your fingers. “None of them think you’re dark and gloomy, they’ve seen you in videos before, dude. Accept the fact that you’re a softy.” He teased, your jaw practically hitting the floor.

The conversation went on like this for about twenty minutes, the four of you talking and bickering back and forth. The conversation ran off the tracks quite a few times, and Matt tried reeling it back in as best as possible.

“So, back to the topic at hand—”

“Nick, what did you say?” Chris asked, completely cutting Matt off.

“I was just saying that was bullshit.” Nick said.

“Guys, what are we even—”

“How is what I just said bullshit?” Chris asked, the both of them in their own little world.

Matt sighed and looked at you, shrugging his shoulders. You turned to face him fully, resting your arm on the back of the booth. “So anyway, what’s an average day in the life of Matt Sturniolo?” You asked. Matt frowned and adjusted himself to face you completely.

“What?” He asked, pulling the mic towards him.

“What’s an average day in your life?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows.

Matt’s frown relaxed as he thought, shrugged, and finally spoke. “I’d say; wake up, shower, eat, go to meetings, come home, go to bed, repeat.” He held his hands out to count on his fingers, your eyebrows raising as you listened, no emotion on your face.

“Wow, riveting.”

Matt scoffed and shook his head, opening his hands and gesturing them towards you. “Please, tell me about your extraordinary day to day schedule, I’d love to hear it.”

“Of course you would. I happen to have a day packed full of important tasks.” You said, lifting your chin sarcastically.

“Oh, really? Name one.” He said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, I work.” You started, Matt nodding and pursing his lips.

“Oh, you work, do you? And what do you do after that?” He asked, your eyebrows lifting and your jaw going slack.

“Well, if you must know, after work I go home and eat and then shower and go to bed.” You said matter of factly, Matt staring at you completely unamused.

“That has got to be the most boring play-by-play I’ve ever heard.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, and yours was better, Matt?”

“I think so. What do you do for work?” He asked, the corner of his lips turned up in a half smile.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders. “Retail. It’s not the most glorious job, but it gets the bills paid.”

“Yikes, customer service.” He winced, to which you shrugged your shoulders again.

“Like I said, not the most glorious job. I deal with a lot of dickheads, but the regulars are nice.” You said, grabbing your cup and taking a sip of it. You jutted your chin at him. “It’s your turn to ask a question, I don’t think they’re gonna stop any time soon.”

Matt hummed and thought for a moment. “Um, what’s your favorite color?”

“That’s really the best you could come up with, Matt?” You said, a laugh leaving your lips as he looked at you in mock offense.

“At least it’s not as mundane as ‘what do you do everyday’, Y/n. Cut me some slack, I’m trying here.” He retorted, your hands going up before you answered.

“It’s blue.”

“Lame.” He said, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Matt, that’s literally your favorite color, too.” You said, Matt scoffing.

“You don’t know me.” He mumbled, a laugh bubbling out of you as you adjusted in your seat, scooting the slightest bit towards him.

“I’ve known you my entire life, you dork. That argument is invalid.” You said.

Matt pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, really studying him for the first time in awhile. You reached forward and lightly pinched a lock in your fingers and twirled it. “Your hair is getting long.” You said. There was something in Matt’s eyes that you couldn’t quite place, but the apples of his cheeks were tinged pink.

“Yeah, I need to cut it soon.” He said, his voice quiet.

You nodded your head, letting go of the lock of hair and resting your hand back on the booth centimeters away from his. “If that’s what you want.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he lightly jabbed the tips of your fingers with his.

You paused, realizing how passive it had sounded. You immediately shook your head. “No, oh my God, nothing! It was just an observation.” You said, resting your hand on his.

“So you wouldn’t care if I shaved my head?” He asked, mischief glinting in his eyes. Somehow, your fingers ended up entwined, but both of your palms were resting on the back of the booth. It was comfortable, but new, and you didn’t know exactly how to navigate this. You shrugged your shoulders and pulled your headphones off of your head and rested them around your neck.

“I wouldn’t care, no. Just because I think your hair looks cute long, doesn’t mean I’m going to freak out if you change it.” You said honestly. Matt blinked, processing your words before he replied.

“You think my hair looks cute long?” He asked. You nodded your head, ignoring the burning in your face.

“That is what I just said, yes.” You said, trying to sound like it was no big deal

“Wow, admitting you think I’m cute on recording? That’s crazy.” You could tell he was teasing, and by the color of his cheeks, you could tell he didn’t mind.

You cocked an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side as your smile grew. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you’ve been practically holding my hand for this entire conversation?”

“I haven’t?” He said, immediately pulling his hand from yours and resting it in his lap, his eyes darting downward. You smiled and shook your head, teasingly gesturing around the room.

“Matt, it’s literally on camera, from multiple angles.” You said, Matt’s eyes meeting yours. He studied your face and eventually smiled and rolled his eyes, the awkward tension he was radiating before slowly dissipating.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” He mumbled, adjusting his headphones before meeting your eyes again. You opened your mouth to speak, but were quickly interrupted.

“Oh my God, this is honestly disgusting.”

You whipped your head around to Nick, your eyes wide as he met you with an incredulous stare.

“You guys have been flirting like, the entire time. I’m surprised I haven’t thrown up yet.” He finished, your face on fire as your eyes flickered to Chris’ amused smile.

“Honestly, Nick and I stopped arguing like, five minutes ago. We just wanted to see how long it would take the two of you to notice.” You looked back at Matt, who was awkwardly laughing into his hands and shaking his head. “Clearly, way too fucking long. Can we get back to the topic of our joint childhoods now?” Chris finished.

You cleared your throat and nodded, adjusting yourself in the booth so you were facing forward and your shoulder was to Matt.

“Where were we again?” You asked, Nick jumping into the conversation effortlessly.

The rest of the podcast went smoothly, the four of you in almost perfect harmony for the rest of the time, the little embarrassing interruption nearly forgotten.

It was nearly forgotten until Matt’s hand rested over yours under the table and entwined with yours. You felt your face heat up and the corners of your mouth twitch, but you didn’t say anything or make anything obvious.

Matt was your best friend, and as affectionate as the two of you were, hand holding was never on the list until now—and honestly, you didn’t mind.

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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nightmarist · 6 months

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Some Zevlor Things —

EDIT 12/2/23: Added a few more things

A fellow Tiefling Hellrider, Tilses, is with him in the caves acting as his bodyguard. He sometimes calls her Tilly.

There is one bedroll in the caves shoved off in the far corner with a book titled "The Devil You Know: An Autobiography" - not sure if it's his personal writing or if he's reading it, either way it adds to the flavor of his of his tiefling pride (and/or anguish).

It reads:

Have you ever had a god change your blood? It is a horrifying thing, even for those who may desire it. Yet few tieflings wished for Asmodeus to claim their bodies, only be given no choice in the matter. It is not as if we were well-loved before the archdevil's gambit. Our people have always struggled against the notion of 'devilkin', as if a single drop of infernal ichor inescapably corrupts. How amusing, when so many others willingly sell their souls to fiends, yet their culture as a whole escapes the blame. By what method can we redeem ourselves, when the crime is not ours? I would drive a blade into every warlock that aided Asmodeus' damned ritual, but personal vengeance cannot undo the will of a god, much less one as slippery as the Lord of Lies. When every passerby thinks you a thief and heretic, it is deeply tempting to become one. (cut off) The only thing that has stopped me is knowing Asmodeus wants nothing more than for all of us to fall from grace.

Around the his table are Invasion Plans for Elturgard, Traveler's Guide to Baldur's Gate, Traveler's Guide to the Sword Coast Vol IV: The Risen Road (which aligns when he tells you earlier there are gnolls on the road), and "Front and Center: a Thespian's Memoir" that reads:

"... in fact, the greatest joy of my life hasn't been acting, but becoming. When you choose a character to play, you don't just wear a mask - you take a little bit of their soul for your own. Whoever you are in your heart of hearts, if only by the faintest note."

Zevlor aside I think this is a sweet quote for the player and player character relationship <3

Dialogue in the Caves:

Zevlor: I Hardly need a bodyguard, Tilses. This isn't Avernus. Tilses: No sir. At least the monsters there looked like monsters.

—

Tilses: Commander— Zevlor: Just Zevlor, Tilly. We're civilians now, remember? Tilses: With respect, sir — being a Hellrider is for life. They can't take — Zevlor: They can, and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that. Tilses: ... Yes, Zevlor

—

Tilses: The Watch or the Flaming Fist? Zevlor: Pardon? Tilses: When we get to Baldur's Gate. Where are we enlisting? Zevlor: I'm done soldiering, Tilly. I'd like a clean start. But go with the Watch. You're too honest to be a mercenary.

—

Zevlor: No word from the scouts, yet? Tilses: No sir. But if there's a clear path past the goblins, they'll find it. Zevlor: Yes, of course.

ITEMS —

in the Chest there is a bronze goblet, 46 gold, and a battle-worn blade. On his person he has his gloves (Hellrider's Pride), an apple, a camp supply pack, and the key to his chest.

The blade says:

A fine by well-used sword. It seemed to have once belonged to a holy order, but the indication of rank and patron deity at the hilt have recently been filed down.

The gloves' flavor text says:

A waft of sulphur emanates from this proudly-kept piece.

Celebration at the Camp:

"I should be out there, talking with them. In... Just a moment, maybe." "Is this everyone? Our numbers have grown so few..." "No more. I can't afford to lose any more of them." "No. Let them have fun. I'll be ruining it come morning anyway."

Mindfayer Colony:

Things he mumbles in the Pod:

The pod will show you his memories of Elturel:

After saving Zevlor, I forced myself to pick the "mean" options just to see how it goes.

If you tell him its his fault tieflings were imprisoned in moonrise, he says:

If you tell him "Do yo have a right to ask?" when he asks about the tieflings:

He doesn't argue with any of your remarks except one, when he says "For a moment I welcomed it" and you tell him "For a moment until you realized your reward would be a tadpole" he corrects you:

If you tell him if he wanted power he should live up to his own ideal:

If you tell him to get out of your sight:

When you tell him it's not his fault he was enthralled:

If you tell him "Fine. Good luck, Zevlor."

If you say you could use another blade in the fight to come:

At the Netherbrain:

(smiling <3)

"The journey has been brutal, but I stand here a Hellrider once more, and I would die a proud man if I died this day."

I know it's a Soldier thing to be proud to die for a cause but it still makes me worry for him given his background so far <:]

If you click on him, he has two unvoiced lines:

if you pickpocket him at this point, he'll have the same items on him as before (in this save he has a carrot instead of an apple for me).

His stats at this time: (Steeped in Bliss is from one of my items)

Post Game (Patch 5)

I don't know if there are other permutations of this letter, yet, but this is what I received:

I hope my penmanship has improved somewhat in the past months. When I first stumbled into this city, I shook so badly that I could scarcely hold the soup the priests pressed into my hands - let alone write and thank you as you deserve. It is only when the city itself began to shake that I felt my hands grow still. Along with the other veterans sheltering at the temple - discards of Elturel's 'unworthy' legions - I watched that monstrosity rise over the city. We felt no fear. Only anger. Disgust. Purpose - and with it, power. I do not know what oath we cling to now, or how long it will last - but we shall use it to ensure that this city will not suffer as Elturel did. Whether it wants us or not. It is more than thanks alone I owe. No words can make amends for what I did to my people, but that is as it should be. More come to the temple every day to aid in the relief efforts, and if I am permitted to work alongside them, then I am content. Come and see us, when you can. Zevlor

It's interesting — if not bitterswet, tragic, and inspiring — to hear that Zevlor and other Paladins regained their Oaths via pure, stubborn devotion to saving people when it began to look as bad as Elturel.

#zevlor #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #act 1 spoilers #act 2 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #this man reeks of self loathing i want to bathe him in love and comfort #i also want him carnally #act 3 spoilers #bg3 meta

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moominsuki · 1 year

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THE DRIEST SPELL OF THEM ALL (7.1k) — bakugou katsuki x f!reader

✎ᝰ you've only been in a relationship with bakugou for a short while, but you can't help but think it's strange that you haven't had sex. guess it's time to change that.

࿄ ! warnings — nsfw, straight up penetrative sex, established relationship, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex, lots of praise and feelings, bakugou is a sweetie pie, not a safe space for minors, reader is a college student and bkg is a pro hero.

/ note. this is my first, long fic and i'm so excited to share it with you guys. honestly was so fun to write and it has a lot of plot but who is uma if she doesn't have loads of self-indulgent dialogue?? anyways minors please do not interact with this and to the rest of you, please enjoy my very smutty fanfic.

to bakugou, the first time you and him have sex happens out of the blue. the relationship is relatively new and fresh - only around three-four months in. you do think it is kind of weird that you guys haven’t crossed the line of actually doing the deed.

you both have tiptoed the threshold of making out and soft touches. like when he came over to your place and you both made out after dinner together. you offered to put on a movie - just a random romance flick that you don’t seem to remember now; considering the tension in the room could’ve been cut with a meat cleaver.

just three months ago, it had been your third date and you’d only passed a few light touches and long hugs at this juncture so when he put his hand on your bare knee, it was game over. you pounced on the blond and kissed him for as long as your breath willed you to. it just probably was not the best idea for you to try to undress on your couch.

“is it alright if i take this off?” you say, going to grab the hems of your light pink shirt that wasn’t doing enough to cover the hardness of your nipples. bakugou nosed at your jaw and kissed at your neck before he bit back a groan at this and rested his hands at hem of your skirt before nodding.

“fuck, you don’t gotta ask me, princess. just do it.” your hands slipped under your shirt and revealed underside of your boobs - which bakugou was ready to smooth his hands over until the footsteps of someone approached your living room.

“hey y/n- oh my GOD. i am so sorry oh-” and the footsteps are heard running to another room before a SLAM! echoes in the distance. you had not anticipated that your roommate would be arriving home so early but then again, common sense would have told you to go to your bedroom.

alas, it was too late. the mood had dampened significantly and bakugou awkwardly made his way out of your apartment - failing to look at you or your red faced roommate. he did, however, send a text apologising to the both of you and by the next day, everything had seemingly been forgotten.

the sexual tension had not been forgotten.

there would be many more days where you and bakugou would get hot and steamy before being interrupted by his friends, or a phone call coaxing him back to work, or the fact that the both you were super busy. he was an up and coming hero and while your career wasn’t as demanding as your better half, you were a busy college student: with assignments piling by the day, leaving you with little time to do anything with your boyfriend… which left you both sexually frustrated and unsatisfied… until now.

“there’s so many hot guys here. i should really pick you up more often,” sighs mina happily as she waves at a guy on your campus.

“mina, you are literally a pro hero. you could find a guy way hotter than… the guy who literally sits behind me in my pharmacy class. and he’s a stupid fuckboy, by the way.”

“good thing is i have a thing for stupid fuckboys,” she smiles and you roll your eyes. “but enough about meeee,” she drawls and you groan out loud, “what’s up with you and mr dynamight?” you both reach a red light and she turns to wiggle her eyebrows at you.

“nothing. well, not nothing - we’re fine. just fine.”

“you guys haven’t had sex yet?”

you splutter indignantly and mina taps onto the steering wheel and nods empathetically.

“what- when did i even imply that-”

“a girl always knows when her friend hasn’t done the do with her boyfriend yet. always. you’d be glowing and bubbly and happy but here you are… low-key awkward, not glowing. you don’t have that post-sex first time glow-”

you yell over her ramblings, “okay, OKAY, i get it. fine, we haven’t had sex. but it’s not like we - i don’t want to. it’s just time and finding the privacy to… fuck. and you literally work with katsuki. you know how pedantic he is about his work and his free time.”

“so you’re saying he doesn’t want to fuck? or that he’s avoiding you?” quizzes mina and it’s your turn to sigh, albeit a little sadly.

“i don’t think he’s avoiding me but whenever we get to the point of just doing… it, something happens and now he just doesn’t really initiate it? i don’t know if it’s because he just knows we’ll be interrupted or he just doesn’t want to anymore… am i overthinking it?”

mina parks her car and stares straight on to fully digest what you say before nodding.

“no you’re not - but this is BAKUGOU we’re talking about. he’s not your average guy. have you seen the way he looks at you? it’s like he wants to eat you every time you enter a room. like genuinely i have never seen a more feral man so this is very surprising news to me,” ponders mina and you laugh a little at her admission, kind of grateful for it. before you can say anything, she turns to you and grabs your shoulders.

“i have the perfect idea! we’re having a party at the agency tomorrow night and you should “go.”,” she gestures with finger quotes. you look at her strangely and raise a brow.

“I should “go?”” you copy her gestures and she nods vehemently.

“are you catching my drift?…” you shake your head in confusion and she rolls her eyes, “jeez, okay, look, i’ll remind bakugou about the get together and i’ll tell him that i told you about it. he’ll invite you and when the day comes, you guys just don’t go.”

“we don’t show up? but why-” the cogs in your mind turn inquisitively before you put two and two together at mina’s wiggling brows and you “ohhhhh” in mutual understanding.

“you know, that’s not a half bad idea. as long as you can everyone to not question our absence…”

mina laughs, offended a little at your quip, “y/n, baby, lovely. when i make a proposition, i tie up all the loose ends. it’s just up to you to find the right time and place. you get one evening to sort your sexual tension out. after that, it’s smooth sailing. and i prayyy that you do. have you noticed that he’s been really pent up? bakugou’s angry but he’s like, exceptionally angry, these days-”

“if you’re trying to insinuate he’s mad because he’s sexually frustrated, i have no answer to that. and we’ve been sitting in your car for almost 20 minutes now. we probably look crazy,” you note and mina sighs and nods before grabbing her things.

“you can avoid this conversation but when he taps that, you will tell me all about it and i will not accept no for an answer.” you hum indifferently and make a mental reminder to make up a story if the night that entails will be as raunchy as you hope it will be.

when mina drops you home, bakugou sends a text.

katsuki: y/n, did mina tell you about some dumb thing we’re doing at the agency?”

you smile at that.

you: yeah, she mentioned it. why, are you thinking of going?”

hook…

you tap your toes expectantly as you see the bubbles disappear and reappear.

katsuki: don’t really want to but they’re gonna force me to, so fuck it. you doing anything tomorrow night?”

line…

you: nope, don’t have any plans. why?”

katsuki: you wanna come with as a date? you’ll brighten up the shitty place.”

sinker.

you squeal at your phone and collect yourself to reply.

“sure, kats, I’d love to go with you. you can come over to my parents place so we can get ready together if you’d like.”

“you busy right now? wanna call you.”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer and it rings. you often think you got lucky for having such an easygoing and pliant man and today cements your beliefs as you go to pick up his call.

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

the day of the party seems like a long one. you made sure that your parents would not be home for the weekend - while it’s terribly unsexy to fuck in your parents home, the chance of your roommate bombarding your sexy time with your boyfriend is too high of a chance to risk and you’ve spent more time than necessary thinking about what the day would entail.

now that you’ve shed your pyjamas, you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror. your orange panties are doing nothing to hide the outline of your kitty and you’re definitely certain that the bra’s purpose was purely just encase your boobs in a rune of bright orange and white.

“i’m never letting mina pick out lingerie for me again,” you sigh as you poke and prod at the pieces. of course mina had to pick out the most raunchy, provocative and immodest pieces known to man. you’re pretty sure you could see the colour of your nipples sticking out of the material. you were somewhat questioning whether this was a good idea. what if bakugou thought this was too much? would he even like this? you definitely should’ve asked him first-

katsuki: on my way. will be there in five.

of course he texts you right at this moment, breaking you out of your horny driven and frantic stupor.

now that you really think about it, when you recall all the time you’ve almost been with bakugou, it makes you close your legs together to calm down any heartbeats ruminating between your legs. it makes the situation of not actually having sex with him yet even more heartbreaking - you want the feeling of his hands running down your body, his lips nipping at your lower belly, down to where you really want him. it makes you wonder what position he’d fold you into, if he’d press you into the mattress and make you cum till you were shaking and crying…

you inhale deeply and run around your home to do a few, final touches. you felt like you were a teenage girl all over again - faffing all about the house and praying that your parents wouldn’t come home and notice that your boyfriend fucked you into your flowery sheets. and you hoped bakugou wouldn’t just yet notice the strong smell of his your favourite perfume and the orange lace clinging onto your ass and boobs underneath meticulous layers of less attractive pyjamas. is this what they call reverse psychology? it’s no time to ponder when your boyfriend knocks on the door and you practically launch yourself downstairs to greet him.

you have to bite back a moan when you see him. seeing as this was a relatively fresh relationship, you both agreed that you wouldn’t always obsess over seeing each other. the last time you saw bakugou was two or so days ago and you make a mental note to throw away that line of thinking when you see your boyfriend in all his glory.

he’s wearing his typical grey joggers and hoodie combo (the one who looks the most biteable in) and he pushes down his hood to reveal his wheat-haired mullet and downright gorgeous face. he enters your home and you stand by patiently waiting for him to drop his bag and take off his shoes before touching all on him.

“you not gonna say hello?” bakugou says gruffly and you roll your eyes (in your head, of course) before walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“hey, baby. missed you,” you kiss into his face and bakugou wraps an arm round your waist and raises his arms to grabs at your cheeks to properly look at your face before kissing you once. and twice. thrice. even four times before you’re laughing and begging him to stop. with a stretched hand, you lead your boyfriend upstairs to your childhood bedroom.

“any reason ya wanted to stop off at your parents instead of my place?” bakugou asked, raising a brow in suspicion. you fight back the urge to overtly shudder at the thought of his friends ruining what will be a long night - especially if you had anything to do with it.

“i was just thinking that we don’t really get much time to ourselves. just us two. i think we’ve only had a proper date to ourselves maybe three times. and i am saying that loosely,” you admit. bakugou scoffs and sits on the edge of your bed.

“‘s not my fault people are always botherin’ us,” he mumbles and then he looks up at you and gestures for you to stand between his legs. you do so quite obediently.

“never said it was, baby,” you say, just above a whisper, as you brush the back of his hair and into his scalp. his hands rest at your knees and rub softly against your thighs and you really have to fight back the urge to jump his bones. but, alas, you had to make him want this just as much as you.

your boyfriend hums and leans into your touch and bakugou looks up at you and smiles, a little mischievous, “so we have your ‘rents house all to ourselves and ya wanna waste it on going to a lame ass company party?”

your eyes widen at that, not really expecting him to almost put two and two together so early on. you grossly underestimated the intelligence of your boyfriend so you had to dispel any ideas of sexual activity before he spearheaded into your plan.

“first of all, you invited me. and second of all, it’d be nice to go and come back to a place all to ourselves for once. we don’t really get to go to parties with your friends often,” you muse and bakugou groans and wraps his arms around your thighs.

“they wouldn’t even know we were missing…” he grumbles and you smile down at him and give him a kiss to his forehead, your thumb passing his brow piercing and booping his nose and lips.

“we don’t even have to go for that long if you don’t want to-”

“i don’t wanna go at all.” bakugou states adamantly and you tap his face and bask in his hold and affection.

“we only have to just show up, so you’re not gonna get out of this one easily. then you have me all to yourself. sounds good, kats?”

bakugou throws his arms off you and himself into your pillows and pulls his phone out - akin to a petulant child and you have to laugh. if only he knew what was actually going to happen.

“yeah, yeah, just - let’s just chill for a bit.. we can at least cuddle before we have to fucking spend time with those idiots,” katsuki grunts and you hum at his reply before clambering on top of your hulk of a boyfriend. you stare down at him in all his glory. now that you were right above him, you notice he looked more tan than usual. and did his lips always look so kissable?

“y/n? you all good up there?” kstsuki asks as he taps softly onto the planes of your temple. you look down at his nose and then his lips and it’s settled.

fuck it. there was no going back now. this was happening today.

“yeah, kats, ‘m good. just missed you, is all,” you breathe out and your boyfriend hums in reply and you thank your lucky stars that he’s sometimes a little naive when it came to you- lest he speedrun his own surprise.

bakugou looks at you, all soft and loving even though all you can see and feel are his red eyes piercing into you. he stuffs his phone into his pocket and pulls you into his wide chest, arms imprisoning you.

“shitty hair just texted me asking where we are. ‘m gonna tell him to fuck off.”

“don’t be mean to your friends,” you scold and bakugou rolls his eyes but he’s barely paying attention to what you’re saying. you try to ignore the fact he’s looking at you properly - drinking you in all angles.

“you gonna let me kiss you or just keep staring?” katsuki asks, eyes all half lidded and brooding. you shy away a little at his upfront neediness for you but you entertain him regardless. you bend down to plant a soft kiss on his mouth but that does little to satiate him.

“the fuck was that? you love torturing me, huh, princess,” katsuki groans and you smile at his expression: all frowny and so, so pretty.

“sorry, sorry, you’re right. just love teasing you,” you say, barely above a whisper and you give katsuki his first proper kiss since seeing him today. the kiss is heavy: all tongue and wet and warm and you grab onto his arms to ground yourself. meanwhile bakugou pulls you down so you’re right on top of him, so he can get a better grip on your ass and easier access to your mouth. you’ve got a leg over his hips and an arm hanging off his shoulder, completely attached. he’s got a large palm on your lower back, slowly drifting further and further to squish your ass.

it’s like this for a couple of minutes; your arms wrapped around his head and neck, his large palms groping at your ass and hips and bakugou’s mouth kissing on your tongue and lips. your leg rests on his waist and you swear you can feel the heat of his dick right then and there. it’s not like you can miss it, all heavy and imposing.

“fucking needed this, baby,” your boyfriend practically moans and a hand sneaks in your pyjama top and shorts and you moan loudly as he squeezes and grabs at you, your leg around his waist pulling him even closer. katsuki pulls back at the feeling of soft lace running across his fingertips and only then does it resonate that he can feel what you’re wearing. he looks at your face with a quizzical look and you want to hide from the sharpness of his eyes.

“what’s this ‘m feeling?” katsuki asks and you stuff your face in his neck as he smoothed his hands on your lace clad hips.

“just a little something i was gonna surprise you with…” you trail off and he sits up at this declaration.

“yeah? something f’me? you not gonna lemme see it?” he muses and your eyes widen. your boyfriend has always been pretty bold so you don’t know why you’re being so shy right now but you comply with his demands and sit up on his lap to pull off your shirt to reveal the brightly coloured brassiere.

bakugou’s breath hitches and his chest rises a little slowly when he sees the bra in it’s entirety. you look gorgeous, he thinks. all innocent and sexy at the same time. he doesn’t know whether he wants your legs on his shoulders so he can taste you until you’re begging him to stop… or whether he should just fold you in half and fuck you until pearly tears are falling down your cheeks.

he decides on complimenting you for the time being:“you look gorgeous, princess. fucking sexy… all f’me, yeah?”

“who else would it be for, dummy?” you say in a low, humorous tone and your hand travels up his chest to rest at his jaw, so you can give him a kiss to his ‘o’ shaped mouth. you slot yourself entirely at the weight of his bottoms and only then do you really feel what you’ve done to him. it’s your turn to make an ‘o’ shaped expression.

you lean down to kiss his lips again, sucking on his bottom lip before letting go with a pop, before smiling at him. katsuki grins back at you, leaning up on his elbows and nudging his nose against yours and you can smell his minty breath. you rest your hand over his stubbled cheek, brushing a hand over it as he slots his lips with yours. he takes his time with you, so much tongue as drinks everything you give him. katsuki lays back down to watch you and runs his hands over your hips, squeezing at your ass and all the parts he can get his hands on.

he decides he’s had enough of the petting and the touches because he groans and grabs at your waist so he can you flip you over.

bakugou presses hot and wet kisses and nips at your jaw and your neck - till he’s laying on his stomach to kiss at the top of your breasts. he’s fiddling with the underwire of the bra before he looks up at you with blown out pupils and a smirk to match.

“we were never going to that party, we’re we, baby?” he hums as he noisily kisses and sucks your collarbones and the fat of your breasts. you know he’s caught you out and trying to elicit a reaction but with the way he’s biting and kissing on you, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“n-no…” you say, with a hint of a whine, “just wanted you to myself for once.” bakugou can feel himself throb at how much you want him and he climbs up to situate himself exactly above you, his arms caging around your head.

“such a fucking minx, you know that? who knew you had it in you, princess?” he says, looking directly into your eyes. you feel small under his gaze and try to cower away but his hand grabs at the chub of your cheeks.

“don’t get all shy on me now, baby. you knew exactly what you were doing,” katsuki trails off, now littering your neck with gentle bites and hot, wet breath that made your spine shudder and toes writhe.

“you’re not gonna embarrass me. it's gotten me this far, so not a bad deal,” you gasp, just shy of a whimper at your boyfriend’s ministrations. katsuki chuckles at this and sits on his haunches to have a good look at you.

“at least you did your research… y’know orange’s my favourite colour too. can i take this off, princess?” katsuki asks, his hands brushing over the thin straps of your bra. you sit up slightly and nod at him. however, he doesn’t seem content with that answer as he thumbs over your nipple through the bra and you gasp again.

“use your words, pretty girl. that don’t mean shit to me,” he breathes out and you want to fight him for forcing you to beg so explicitly.

“yes, yes please,” you practically cry out and bakugou fixes his hands to undo the clasp of your bra and your breasts spill out of the material. katsuki bites back a moan, his eyes half lidded at the sight of you. he feels like a teenage boy all over again - wanting to grope and bite and kiss at you. so he does exactly that.

discarding your bra, he leans down onto his stomach and goes to playfully bite down at your left nipple and you whine at him, placing a hand in his unruly hair. just as you’re about to scold him, he smoothes over his bites and sucks with wet and soft kisses over the skin. with his free hand, he travels down to your barely there shorts and slips into them, his fingers leaving a ghost of a touch against your pussy.

“can feel how wet you are and i’ve barely even touched you,” whispers bakugou and he kisses at your tits while watching your expression. to say you felt shy under his watchful eyes was understatement. but you still wanted so much more.

“katsuki… please,” you breathe out and he presses his fingers harder into your barely covered clit and you bite your lower lip to stop a squeak from leaving your throat.

“please, what, pretty? you look like you knew what you wanted when you dressed up all sexy f’me,” katsuki says mischievously and you want to slap and ride his face at the same time. you’ll save that for another day.

“please make me… cum,” you finally get out and bakugou kisses at your breasts one last time before descending into the lower half of your body.

“since you used your manners,” katsuki muses but you both knew he wouldn’t pass at the chance to get his mouth on you anyway, recalling back to your moments of interrupted intimacy (or cockblocking as katsuki would call it).

katsuki pulls down your fluffy pyjama shorts to reveal the orange panty ensemble and he bites his lip to hold back a whimper at the noticeable damp spot just at your cunt hole. he looks up at you, who’s clearly embarrassed by all the attention because you’re covering your face with your hands. he playfully bites down on your thigh and you yelp, looking right at his lust filled eyes.

��wan’ you looking at me when ‘m bout to eat you out,” murmurs your boyfriend and you force the heels of your feet dig into the plush of your bed so you don’t clench your thighs at his words.

bakugou continues with looking at your pussy and he can practically see your walls clenching from how turned you are and he feels impossibly harder at the thought of tasting you. he places a small, wet kiss on panty-covered clit and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

katsuki continues to lave and give attention to your pussy by soft and wet kisses through the material and your whimpers were about to turn into complaints until he pulls the dampened material down your legs and stuffs it in his trouser pocket.

in any other given situation, you would have brought that up but katsuki launches himself between your legs and starts suckling at your clit and suddenly, whatever happened before has been forgotten. you cry out at the sudden attack on your pussy and the noises that come out of you are borderline pornographic.

“k-katsuki, fuck, that feels so g-good,” you stutter, whole body practically trembling.

“yeah?” your boyfriend chuckles, “you taste good, princess. can’t believe i went this long without having you on my face,” he grunts, alternating between kissing and sucking at your clit and your lips. when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he slowly presses two fingers into your hole and your head falls back into the pillows.

katsuki’s watching your reaction and he’s humping the bed for even a lick of friction; the way you taste and sound is too much for his senses. he can feel the tip of his dick leaking when you cry out his name and his eyes roll back when he feels you clench around him.

“o-oh, ‘m gonna come, kats, fuck, ‘s too much-”

“that’s it, baby. doing so well f’me, fuck. wan’ you to come all over my face. can you do that f’me?” asks bakugou while he alternates between stroking your inner walls and tongue-fucking you.

you nod, unable to answer and practically scream before your eyes begin to roll back, your toes begin to curl and the effects of your orgasm hit you like a truck. all you can see is white and you can’t even comprehend the noises coming out of you.

katsuki decides he is in love with the way you look when you come undone. he fucks you through your orgasm, lapping up everything that you give him and he only stops when your thighs begin to close up around his head and you make feeble attempts to push him away. not wanting to overwhelm you, he kisses your clit before sitting up and notes that he would stay between your legs some other day.

meanwhile, you’re catching your breath and your eyes are brim with a few unshed tears and katsuki chuckles breathily at you. you pout, “don’t laugh at me,” and he smiles in awe at your naked beauty. it’s only then when his eyes rake up and down your body that you realise he’s still completely clothed.

“starting to think you’re allergic to getting naked.. i’m feeling all exposed and left out,” your pout deepens and he stretches a hand to pinch at your nipple and you yelp and swat him away.

“relax, pretty girl, all you had to do was ask. ‘sides, not like i can fuck you in my clothes,” katsuki smirks and you roll your eyes and nibble your lips, impatiently awaiting to see your boyfriend in all his true glory.

bakugou pulls off his jumper and shirt in one go to reveal his tan chest and various miscellaneous tattoos, including one of your favourite flower right under his right pec. he then goes onto to pull down his joggers to reveal tight, grey briefs - and you hold your breath at the sight.

your mouth waters when you can see the length of his meat alongside his thigh and you can even see the damp patch on where the head of his mushroom-shaped tip is supposed to be. katsuki can see you checking him out and his chest puffs up a little at this.

“you look like you’re about to eat me, princess,” he jokes and you raise a brow.

when you’re about to bite back at him, you realise that you’re way too horny to waste anymore time and instead, you just nod seductively and open your arms so he can rest on top of you.

katsuki accepts and his arms rest by your head. he’s directly above you and only now does the sheer size of your boyfriend dawn on you. his whole body hulks over you and you’re unable to hold back a whimper that escapes when you realise just how hot this situation is.

“you still turned on? anythin’ i can do to help you?” katsuki snickers and you know he gets off on teasing you: he’s enjoying your helplessness and the fact that you’re so horny you’ve been rendered slightly brainless.

“stop teasing me,” you pout and katsuki leans down to kiss your pouty lips and he smiles, all warm at you even though he’s one clothing item away from rearranging your insides.

“sorry, princess. ‘s just fun to tease ya, is all. believe me when i say i wan’ this just as much as you do,” he grunts out and he sits up to finally rid of his briefs.

the wait is agonisingly long but when bakugou finally strips himself naked, your whole world stops.

your boyfriend is a hefty, adonis of a man so the size of his cock should’ve never surprised but no amount of mental physical preparation could have prepared you for the actual thing. it’s beautiful, veiny and thick - the length being tan with a vein that climbs all the way to the head of his cock: which sits at a dark pink, almost red colour, dribbling with precum. at the base of his cock sits a tuft of blond hair and your mouth basically waters.

katsuki’s dick twitches a little at your unwavering gaze and it’s his turn to feel a little embarrassed. you sit up and reach a hand out to thumb at his most prominent vein and a mixture of a groan and a whimper catches at the back of his throat. he feels like - he knows he could come just from looking at you as you brush against his cock.

it’s why he jumps to crowd over you on the bed and grabs your right thigh to sit at his waist.

“you think you’re ready? ‘m gonna ease into you slowly, ‘kay? promise you’ll tell me if it hurts,” he insists and you make sure to verbally reply, lest he waste time trying to get you to speak up.

“fuck, yes, ‘m ready, please put it in already,” you beg and katsuki wants to call you needy but the mushroom head of his cock brushes against your slick pussy lips and any smart reply he has locked and loaded in his head goes out his ear.

katsuki grabs his cock and brushes it on your clit, your lips and then circles your cunt hole and you’re clenching just at the feeling of him pressing down onto your most sensitive parts. you were half sure he was going to make you beg for it but before you could blink, he presses into you and your head would’ve hit the headboard had katsuki not place his hand behind you knowingly.

the feeling of him inside you is too much but not enough simultaneously and your hands grip at his forearms and you’re not sure on whether you want to push him away or bring him closer.

meanwhile, katsuki’s fighting his own mental battle: he curses himself for putting this off for too long and also prays that he doesn’t come before he at least gets yku off. you’re tighter, warmer, wetter than he anticipated and he can’t get enough of you. he’s not even watching himself feed his cock into your gooey hole, deathly afraid that if he looks down for at least one measly second, he would bust so deep into you, you’d be pregnant with triplets.

katsuki’s eyebrows are furrowed as he finally sheathes all the way into you and you rest a hand on his lower abdomen at a feeble attempt to push him away.

“i don’ think is’ gonna f-fit,” you slur, “‘m so full.” katsuki grabs your hand and lifts it above your head in a small, handholding embrace.

“don’t push me away,” he practically growls and he situates himself so he’s resting on top of you again, “you’re a big girl. if you wan’ me off of ya, you know to use ya words.”

you furrow your brows and look away from his dark eyed gaze and he chuckles, “that’s what i thought.”

katsuki pulls himself slightly out of your warmth, only to grind himself back in at an antagonising pace. he sets a speed and he lets go of your hand to properly rest on his forearms above you. you use this as an opportunity to wrap your arms around his back; your face scrunched and bottom lip tucked under your teeth.

you can feel katsuki’s pants above you and you finally open your eyes to see him and he’s probably never looked more sexy and eatable. his hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyebrows are furrowed so deeply that frown will probably be stuck for a while. katsuki angles himself just ever so slightly and you throw your head back in unabashed pleasure as he hits that sweet spot inside you.

“you like that, sweet girl? look at you.. fuck, all fucked out. wan’ you to tell me how good ‘m fucking you,” katsuki breathes out and you swear you’re not ignoring him on purpose because with the way his cock presses inside you and with the way his pubes brush against your clit, all you can muster is a broken moan (one that katsuki will definitely tease you about later).

“that’s how good ‘m fucking ya? can’t even - fuck, ha - can’t even speak, can ya?,” he says out loud and his words are coming in waves. katsuki reaches down to flick at your pearl and your legs seize up around him as you babble mindlessly to appease him.

“yess, feels so good, so deep, ‘can feel you so deep inside, kats - ohh, right there, pleaseee,” you warble and katsuki lifts your right leg to his shoulder to get impossibly deeper inside you.

“fuck, can’t believe i went so long without this sweet pussy,” he grunts out and the feeling of you cunt spasming around him hits at 100mph. you become sloppier, wetter and katsuki finds himself being able to fuck you right to the base of his cock. then it hits him: you just came.

“did y’ just fucking come already? jesus, fuck, haven’- haven’t even properly fucked you yet. so dirty, baby,” katsuki moans out and you can’t hear a word he’s saying. your nails dig in deeper to his shoulder blades and the soles of your feet press into his back as you’re still coming down from your high.

“d’ya think you can go again f’me, princess?” your boyfriend asks politely but the way he asks is anything but polite as he’s already folding both your legs to place them on his shoulder as you’re pushed and manhandled into a mating press.

katsuki still hasn’t pulled out and his cock is throbbing inside you and he wants to cum so fucking badly. but the unshed tears in your eyes made his heart beat a little faster than usual and he would never want to push you past your limits.

“you alright to continue, y/n?” he asks sternly, his expression slightly worried and you amass all the strength your body will allow to pull him down and you link your arms around his neck.

“so serious, katsuki,” you joke, still a little out of breath and he rolls his eyes and stares down at you lovingly while your thumb brushes against his cheek.

“make me cum so hard ‘m seeing stars,” you whisper and katsuki growls as he pulls out and sheathes himself deep into you while you cry out.

“you get what you wish for, princess.”

katsuki places his hands on the back of your thighs and goes crazy at you; desperate for both your releases. the sound of skin and the wetness of your pussy echos in your bedroom and accompanied with the your gasps and cries, the sounds of the room were past the point of being just pornographic.

you swore you’d have his hands imprinted on the back of your thighs with the way he was groping them and with this position, you could feel everything so much more. he was so deep inside you and you swore you could feel him in your stomach as you writhed under him as your third climax of the night crept on you. you were already so sensitive from the last two and you knew this was the one that was going to wreck you.

“‘m so-o close, fuck, it feels like ‘m gonna make a mess,” you gasp, moving to wrap your arms around katsuki’s neck. you could tell from his tightly wound facial expressions that he was not too far off.

“y-yeah? make a fucking mess on me princess, f-fuck, cum all over me an’ i’ll give you everything i’ve got, baby,” he grunts and he slides an arm down between you both to thumb at your swollen clit and you seize at the feeling.

“‘s too much, katsuki, too - oh-oh, ‘m gonna,” you cry o out and you grab your boyfriend’s face, “pl-please kiss me, please,” you beg, pearly tears streaming down your face and katsuki moans out.

“anything for you, pretty,” he rumbles and he slots his mouth over yours as your orgasm hits at you in waves. katsuki can feel sprays of your release hit on his pelvis and his eyes roll back.

“that’s it, pretty girl, make a fuckin’ - make a fuckin’ mess on me,” katsuki kisses into your tongue before coming deep inside you and moaning out loudly as you kiss him back to goad him through his orgasm.

you both ride out your climaxes and your boyfriend watches where you’re both connected and he pulls out, hissing while you whimper and he eventually collapses on top of you. you hold him close to your chest as you match his breathing pattern. the silence is comforting and you scratch at the nape of his head and he opens an eye while his face is pressed into your tummy.

“you okay?” you ask katsuki and he wraps his arms tighter around your body as response but you’re not satisfied with that.

“use your words, baby,” you tease and katsuki playfully digs his teeth into your belly and you make a feeble attempt to push him away.

“should be asking you that instead. fucking squirted all over me,” katsuki chuckles and you gasp, lifting up your hands to hide behind them in embarrassment.

“god, that’s so embarrassing, i can’t believe i did that,” you say, all muffled but katsuki pulls your hands from your face and kisses at your palm.

“was sexy, baby. want you to do that every time we fuck,” he mumbles, nosing little kisses onto your chest and tummy. your boyfriend looks adorable like this: all fucked out, exhausted and glowy and you’re holding back the urge to ‘awwh’ at him while you pet and rub his face with your thumb.

“and i want you to get off me so i can shower. ‘m all gross and sweaty and sticky,” you complain, albeit lightheartedly and when you make the attempt to get up, the blond jumps up like he was never tired.

“sit your ass down and let me run us a bath. and i’ll know if you moved,” katsuki warns, walking to your bathroom in his naked glory and you laugh and before he exits the room, he turns to pass you a quizzical glance.

“nothing, it’s just, your butt is so cute. i can’t believe i never noticed it before!”

“y/n, so help me god, i’ll throw your dumbass into the bathtub,” yells your hot headed man and you giggle at his ‘threat’, watching him try to hide his butt from you as you go to follow him to the bathroom, disobeying his every rule.

so when mina and the bakusquad anyone asks you about your first time, you tell them it was something you waited dearly for and you wouldn’t change for the world.

“uh, kats? why did kiri just text asking if we finally ‘fucked and got it over with?’”

so maybe it wasn’t spontaneous for your boyfriend either. but it’s like you said-

“i will kill that red headed bastard,” yells out katsuki, grabbing his phone and throwing you over his shoulder as you squeal.

you wouldn’t really change a thing.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #self indulgence at its finest #this was proofread let’s clap and cheer!#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha bakugo smut #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.#moominsuki™#✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕#✎𓂃uma thirsts。°˖⌕

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bruisedboys · 10 months

Note

STAR TRIPPING, blurbs ─── send in a character + a prompt from the lists above and I’ll write you a blurb!

❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ + miguel o’hara

hiii angel! thank you sm for the request, I cheated again and changed the dialogue a bit just to fit his character more!! love you xxx

miguel o’hara x gn!spider-person!reader, fluff, ditzy!reader, miguel being a grumpy worrywart tbh

You’ve messed up on a mission more times than you can count. You’re clumsy, you’re a bit on the uncoordinated side despite being a spider-person. And Miguel talking in your ear every five seconds makes you flustered. He’s got a nice voice, rough around the edges but smooth and velvety where it counts. And he’s never on anyone’s case as much as he is on yours, so every time he utters a command into your earpiece or tells you to watch out for a falling piece of building you almost trip on your own feet.

After yet another mission where all you did was get in the way, you make your way defeatedly to Miguel’s lab for a post-mission briefing. You know for sure he’s gonna bring up the fact that you stopped to tie your shoes in the middle of a fight, and he’s definitely gonna mention how unprofessional and dangerous that was. But listen, having untied shoelaces is a danger in itself. Especially when you’re the type of person to trip on tied shoelaces.

Miguel’s back is to you when you enter his lab, orange and blue holographic screens projected in front of him and around him. You don’t get to glimpse what he’s watching because he swipes it away with one hand as soon as you’re close enough to see, the screen disappearing into thin air like magic.

“Hi, Miguel,” you sing, as charmingly as you can, hoping to get out of a scolding.

Miguel sighs audibly, like your very existence irks him. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Uh, oh-kay, you don’t sound happy to see me,” you say, mocking offence.

Miguel turns to face you. He’s extraordinarily handsome, even when he’s scowling like he is now. The urge to push your thumb between his brows and smooth out the grumpy wrinkle there grows stronger every day.

“You’re right, I’m not,” he agrees, completely stoic. “Who ties their shoelaces in the middle of a fight?”

You huff. “Uh, me? You know I could’ve tripped on them, right?”

“Why d’you even wear shoes in the first place? They just get in the way.”

You roll your eyes and skip over to his desk, ignoring his question and instead entertaining yourself by going through the stuff on his desk. He’s not messy but he doesn’t necessarily keep it organised — there’s papers and gadgets and devices all over it just begging to be dug through. “You’re so grouchy.”

“You’re so careless. Don’t touch that.”

You pull your hand away from the important looking device with about a million buttons on it that you were about to pick up, giggling to yourself. It’s fun, annoying him. He’s all bark and no bite, especially when it comes to you. Maybe only when it comes to you. He’ll gladly let you know how much of a nuisance you are but never seems to actually do anything about it. Peter B. says it’s because he’s deeply in love with you. You say he’s just a big softie at heart.

“Look, Y/N,” Miguel says, and you know he’s about to go on one of his telling-offs. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you sit in his spinning desk chair and sway it side to side, the toes of your shoes skimming over the floor. “You can’t be so careless. It’s stupid. You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

“Yeah, right. Death by shoelace,” you murmur to your shoes.

Miguel groans loudly. You look up at him. He’s turned away from you, pinching his nose with his head ducked, mumbling to himself what sounds suspiciously like curse words in Spanish. Even though you can’t understand what he’s saying, you can tell by the tense in his shoulders that he really is annoyed, not just fake annoyed like he usually is with you.

You mull it over in your brain. You could either one, deny you made a mistake, probably annoying him further and getting yourself kicked out of his office, or two, admit you messed up, which would hopefully get him to stop being so grumpy for once, and you can stay here as long as you please. You sigh and decide to admit defeat.

“Miguel?” You say into the silence, sweet as you can.

“What?” He snaps, still with his back to you.

“I’m sorry for tying my shoe in the middle of a fight. It was dumb. And I’m sorry for … getting in the way all the time.” You hop up off your seat and walk towards him, hoping he’ll turn at your approaching footsteps. When he doesn’t, you add, “Would you look at me? I’m trying to apologise here.”

Miguel turns around then, swivelling on his heel to face you. You’re close, close enough that you could reach out and touch his abdomen, his chest. You don’t, though you’d like to. Instead you give him a soft smile and your best I’m sorry eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” you say sincerely. “I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Miguel stares at you, completely stoic apart from his eyes, which are significantly softer than usual. His frown stays put but his eyes go all melty, like they’ve been glazed with honey, and the furrow in his brows softens just slightly. He looks like he wants to say something. He opens his mouth, changes his mind and closes it, then opens it again.

“Are you giving me puppy dog eyes?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “‘Cos that’s not gonna work on me.

“I’m not giving you puppy dog eyes,” you argue, even though you totally are. “I’m trying to say sorry.”

“Well, you’re forgiven,” Miguel says abruptly, shrugging his shoulders. “Just … please try to be more careful.”

You think he’s done with you until he reaches out and presses his thumb to your jaw in what you think is a show of affection, the pad of his thumb sliding down the length of your jaw, then a brush of the back of his fingers under your chin, a trail of burning hot stars left in his wake. You think your whole face might be on fire, but it’s over as soon as it starts, and Miguel goes right back to scowling. “And stop looking at me like that.”

He drops his hand and turns away from you abruptly, pulling up a holographic screen with a list of anomalies yet to be caught. You don’t comment on the implication that his last sentence has made — that your I’m sorry eyes really had been working quite well on him — but instead spend the next five minutes in a shocked sort of silence, the weight of his touch still present on your now burning face.

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chironshorseass · 4 months

Text

what bugs me most about the pjo show is that i know they could’ve done better. i knowwwww they could’ve been as faithful as they wanted to the books. for anyone saying “oh, but it’s an adaptation! it isn’t meant to be the same so stop whining that they took stuff out or that they’re adding things in different order!” well yes, i agree that adaptations aren’t meant to be a carbon copy of the source material for the simple fact that it’s adapting the source material into a different medium (television), yet it’s just that! a form of adapting the things that are unable to be channeled from, say, a book—or on the contrary, adding things that make sense for television but couldn’t be channeled into the books otherwise…all of this in a faithful manner. a good adaptation is one that stays true to the source material by properly adapting its themes, characters, symbolism, context, pacing, and the overall story/plot so as to not only be seen as a sort of love letter to the fans, but also to reach a wider audience.

just look at the hunger games! the movies are so faithful to the books to the point that most of the scenes are taken straight out of the books, dialogue and all. and they’re movies, aka less runtime than a freaking tv show and they still did it better. did the hg movies have to take a few scenes out? yes; they have only so much time to tell the story as it is told in the books. did they resume things, like the games themselves? also yes. but did most of the important scenes and character moments stay in the movies? also also yes. again, THESE ARE MOVIES!!!!! a medium much more limited than a freaking tv series with multiple episodes that have enough run time to add even more scenes from the books than what could be possible in a 2 hour (max) movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and yet they STILL changed so much that rly had no business being changed other than that the writers decided they felt like it because…..a lot of it im not even sure. and the worst thing of it all is that freaking rick riordan took part in script writing yet so much of the source material has been watered down???? they make a whole ass episode about a monster fight with the majority of the scenes from said episode not even present in the books instead of sticking to the perfectly good source material???? and by doing so they delete the small details that are very much integral to character development and plot???? huh???? the math isn’t mathing. don’t get me wrong, i do like some changes, but then i think: at what cost do they add these things when there was a perfectly good narrative without it? like, at what cost do we get the whole turning to gold sacrifice scene if they’re gonna take out all the fun details that make the lightning thief the lightning thief? for example the silly water park merch and then annabeth displaying her spider phobia and her mortification at going to the thrill ride of love with percy and then being broadcasted to olympus. this is just one episode, but they’ve been doing it in all of them. and u know, it’s not that i don’t hate-hate most these changes. again, what bugs me is that this was supposed to be a faithful adaptation. again, it’s a tv series, with so much more time to develop everything from the books. rick is behind it, who apparently hated the movies for how unfaithful they were. the cast is great. and yet…the script is so mediocre. the spark is lost. character traits are looked over in place for weird pacing and even weirder changes. if the hunger games could do it, then surely a pjo tv series could as well? apparently not? i really really Don’t Get It.

#pjo adaptation #pjo tv show #pjo tv crit #i wanted to Not Talk about the show but i have so much to say #i’ve given up i’ll keep ranting

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allieebobo · 7 months

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Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

#asks #if #IF recommendations #other IFs #interactive fiction

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comicaurora · 5 months

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A work had a controversial installment or arc, and it is widely regarded as bad for the story/franchise at large. Is it better for any future installment to retcon (hard or soft) and revert the status quo to pre-slump or to try to pick up the pieces without throwing the baby out with the bathwater, if one even exists?

Oogh. That's a tough one, considering how many questionable writing choices I'd personally scrub from existence if I had my way, but in general I think it's better to commit to the bit rather than constantly rewriting. Bad writing can be salvaged in hindsight - wasted characters can be strengthened in flashbacks, consequences of glossed-over tragedies can be explored later, dubious dialogue can be rendered profound through callbacks. Look at how Hayden Christensen's been playing Anakin lately and how much people like what he's doing - it doesn't make the prequels not lousy, but it does make them hold together a bit better in the grand scale. Half the fun of twists and reveals is how they reframe past plot points, and if a writer is careful they can add to a story in ways that reach back to the weak parts and strengthen them.

In contrast, the "never mind all that" school of writing makes it very, very obvious to the audience that the writers don't know what they're doing, or at least don't agree with each other, and spotting the hand of the author like that disengages the audience like nothing else.

Tbh I think Star Wars is a really interesting case study for this, since they've been playing both sides sidious-style for ages. Lucas kept digitally remastering the original trilogy and burying the version people saw in theaters, and nobody liked that - hence all the arguments about Han shooting first, because Lucas changed that after the fact to make him more uncomplicatedly heroic. Then the prequels were a mess, but accepting them as What Happened led to shows like Clone Wars (which overall slapped) and Kenobi, which wasn't perfect but did strengthen the characters, including Owen and Beru, who in the original were entirely flat spacefillers designed to die at Refusal Of The Call O'Clock. And bridging the gap between the prequels and OT gave us Rogue One, and then Andor, which are collectively the best star wars has ever been. But the sequel trilogy had AGGRESSIVE retcon-fights between Last Jedi and Rise of Skywalker, the most overt Never Mind All That I've ever seen - and NOBODY liked it.

Overall I think committing to the bit wins out, even if it's rough for the creators to look their past fuckups in the eye and find a way to make them feel intentional.

#asks #writing stuff

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months

Text

the great war * mv1

a look into the fight that led to the painstaking breakup

pairings: max verstappen x reader

warnings: a lot of cursing, toxic max, toxic you, mentions of cheating

notes: this is part of midnights!! i've had this fight mapped out in my head for so long that i KNEW i had to include it... take a shot every single time i write “three” or use “what” in dialogue (spoiler alert: you’ll get wasted!!!)

fun fact: i wrote the first half of that night i came home from the club

(series masterlist)

you twirl a piece of your hair on your finger, eyes stuck to the screen hanging above you. the headphones sit on your ears comfortably as you bite down on your lip.

in front of you is max’s car being dragged back into the garage by his engineers.

knocked out in p2 for the first time this season, on a track he’s never had much luck with in his career — you can kind of understand why he’d be annoyed. especially when their partner team has made it further than him.

normally, it would have been okay. but this is max’s season as he claims it.

you nod to yourself, and gently take off the headphones. you turn towards the door that leads to the paddocks. there are a few interview panels that max has to go through with the unexpected result.

with all that transpired, max wouldn’t be in the best mood. you’re just trying to make sure that it doesn’t get to his head and doesn’t project it to your conversations later.

your presence in the garage is no longer necessary since max would not bother passing by.

you’re stopped by lily in the paddocks, making some small talk about the restaurant her and alex tried when they arrived a few days ago. you share a laugh about not really knowing how to approach singaporean dishes.

but you agree to try out some local food for breakfast with max if you have the time. immediately, you briskly walk back to max’s driver’s room to make him some coffee.

the jetlag you both get arriving in singapore is never easy, no matter how many times you come back. the visit is always too short to make adjusting your body clock easy.

surprisingly, it doesn’t take him long to make it back.

you can’t decipher what made the process so quick: did he kimi raikkonen his way through it, or have the journalists finally learned their lesson when max has had a bad time on the track?

the frustration on max is obvious. he doesn’t greet you when he comes in, just locks the door behind him and makes a sharp turn for the table to his left.

you were seated on the couch to the right.

you wait to see if max would acknowledge your presence, or at least give some attention to the coffee in the mug on the table. but seconds pass as max organises his items, shoving articles of clothing and fan gifts into his bag without a word.

without even turning to drink the coffee that slowly cools from its hot temperatures.

“i made you coffee,” you mutter, finally standing from your comfortable spot on the couch. you walk towards him and stop in the centre of the room when he sharply turns his head to the mug. “just how you like it.”

“oh, thank you.” he can barely make out a firm sentence, his tone faltering and hands shaking as he reaches out for the mug. “i hadn’t noticed, darling. i’m sorry.”

you nod, whispering a reassuring phrase. something about you understand how he feels. “i’m sorry about qualifying.”

instead of a verbal response, like you’d prefer, he simply shrugs. he turns around to finally face you, hands carefully gripping the hot mug as he blows into it.

you smile slightly and shove your hands into your back pockets. “you know, if you’ve got nothing past 11, i was thinking we go to this place lily told me about. she went with alex a few days ago; i heard the local dishes they serve is really good.”

he shakes his head. “i’m really tired. not tonight, darling, i’m sorry.”

for the first time since he left his race car that night, he finally lifts his blue eyes from his blank stare at the ground to look at you. “maybe we can go on monday before we fly off to japan?”

you jaw hangs low, nodding slowly as you retract back to the couch behind you.

max notes this and finally pushes himself off the table he’s leaning on. “let’s order some food to the hotel after this? they’ve got good options for delivery.”

“sure,” you nod slowly.

you move your gaze away from him, now mimicking the blank stare he had on the ground.

you haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately, even having fought right before flying to singapore. it was about something you can’t even remember now; for all you know, it could’ve been something about the toilet seat being left up.

which, now that you think of it, is what you fought about.

“(y/n).” the mention of your name makes you lift your head up, tilting it to the side to urge him to continue. “you made my coffee with two sugars?”

“what?” your eyebrows furrow very slightly. max has always been particular with the way he drinks his coffee. so you’re very sure that you mixed three sugars in instead of two, a mistake you made earlier in your relationship. “of course, i made it with three. that’s how you like your coffee.”

you watch him take another sip, tongue running over his lips as he deciphers the drink in his mouth. he doesn’t say anything else, but he does put the mug down on the table.

you narrow your eyes into a glare. how different can black coffee be in singapore that the three sugars you put inside make such a difference?

a difference big enough for him to mistake it for two sugars?

you sink into the couch, following max’s every move in the small room. seriously, how different can the coffee be here? and why is it such a big deal that it tastes a little odd?

why couldn’t he have just secretly put in another packet of sugar when you weren’t looking like he used to? does he now enjoy the luxury of pointing out your mistakes because of how long you’ve been together?

“what,” max halts halfway across the room and turns to you, “the fuck are you staring at?”

“i don’t know, the ghost in the corner of the room,” your words drip with sarcasm, noticing the way this changes max’s expression. “obviously you.”

“what is it now?” he sighs impatiently, hands resting on his hips as he leans his weight on one leg.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you’re giving me that stupid glare again. when you’re annoyed, you glare at me like that,” he points at you knowingly, “so please. enlighten me as to how i’ve managed that tonight.”

you raise your eyebrow. your heart starts to pound in your chest as you tilt your head in disbelief. “why are you talking like i don’t have a reason to be annoyed at you right now?”

he hums as his eyebrow raises. “you're the one who made my coffee wrong.”

“i made it how you like it.”

“this is not three sugars, (y/n).”

“but it is. i made it, max.”

“i’m sure you did. but this doesn’t taste like three.”

“okay. whatever. i made it with three, though.”

“you know what? fuck you. this isn’t three sugars — i don’t know why you keep trying to defend yourself.”

“and why’d you have to point it out? will it kill you to literally just reach a little to your right in the drawers to add sugar in?” you push yourself off the couch now, hands on your hips as you stare at him. “it’s really not that serious, max.”

he scoffs. “i’ve had a long day, (y/n). seriously, all you had to make was one cup of coffee. it shouldn’t be that hard.”

your eyes widen at his words. you take a daunting step forward and fold your arms over your chest. “i didn’t have to make you that cup of coffee — it was out of courtesy. the least you could have done was say thank you.”

his stare softens, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. as if realisation had dawned on him, “thank you.” he pauses to sigh and the cold demeanour makes its comeback. “for nothing because you didn’t even make it right.”

“what the fuck is wrong with you, max? you’re so fucking dense, you can’t even say thank you anymore?”

“and what for? you’ve become unattentive, (y/n)! you’ve gotten lazy with our relationship!”

“lazy would have been just staying home instead of flying out here with you when i have a big presentation this week! i made the effort to come out here and support you.”

“i told you that you didn’t have to come if it’s too much! you insisted!”

“because i’m your girlfriend! i want to be there for you and make time. but if you don’t appreciate that, then fine. i won’t do it again.”

“that’s not even what i fucking said. come on.”

“but it is what you said. if having me around is more trouble than it’s worth, this will be the last race i’ll be at.”

“this isn’t even about you making time to be here? it’s about how you made my coffee wrong!”

“make your own coffee, then! or maybe you’d prefer if kelly did it for you?”

max closes his mouth as he finds the reply at the tip of his tongue sucked out. he looks at you in disbelief, hands now on his hips as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “what?” he shouts.

it’s been nothing less of a toxic cycle. you fight, you say things you don’t mean, you hurt each other, you cry, and then you make up.

but there’s a feeling you can’t shrug off in your stomach as you exchange strings of frustrated screams in his tiny driver’s room. neither of you notice the figure walking by the window before it briefly turns away when your screams come into range.

not even the fact that there is a group of your friends waiting outside at the rendezvous point in the paddocks, awaiting your arrival to invite you both for dinner.

they’ve just started making their way out after a distraught liam simply shrugs when they ask about your attendance at the gathering. the young driver simply shrugs and tells them that he doubts both of you will make it out tonight.

then they all just turn and make their way out to explore the city.

now, you're across the massage table in max's driver's room. the mention of kelly and your issue with the woman's association with your boyfriend sparked up a bigger fight.

you're no longer fighting about the coffee: now it's about who can hit who the hardest and come out triumphant from this fight.

it's now you versus max.

you lean forward propped up by your palms flat on the table as he stands at the other side waiting impatiently.

"what about that time you went to that party when i was away for a race? i told you not to go, (y/n)! you disappeared on me for hours!" max spits at you, hands thrown in the air as he gets into the fight.

"yeah, cause god forbid i have a life while you're out doing your own thing," you laugh dryly with an eye roll. "can't deal with the fact that my world doesn't revolve around you anymore, max?"

"totally not the point of my argument. you disappeared on me while you were out drunk - think of what could've happened to you. i was so worried."

"worried for my well-being or worried that i was out cheating on you?"

the room falls to silence, max dropping his hands to his side. you purse your lips together as you stare at him, your arms now folded over your chest. "what's wrong, max? hit too close to home?"

"and so what if i thought you were out cheating? it's valid if my girlfriend disappears on me on a night out."

you roll your eyes and wave off his concern. "so you admit - you thought i cheated on you that night. is this why you're always like this? the looming question in your head if i was, in fact, unloyal that night?"

he sighs, shaking his head. he turns away from you as he rubs his forehead in frustration. "what is the point of us having this conversation? this is not what we're fighting about at first."

"look at me and tell me you don't trust me anymore." your voice is tired, now multitudes softer than a few seconds ago. "what is the point of us now that this is what we've come to?"

a small part of you realise that this was the feeling you couldn't shake off when this fight had started. it's the inevitable thought of breaking up that would ease everything between you. after all of this fighting, all these misunderstandings and miscommunication, there's only one way to make it all go away.

your eyes sting as tears fill your eyes. you watch as max drops himself on the couch, leaning into the armrest as he rests his hand in his hands. you trudge over to where he is, head hanging low as you feel a sob shake your chest.

you shake your head and look down, avoiding his eyes as he turns to you when you slowly bring yourself down to the couch. "i can't do this anymore, max."

he doesn't answer immediately. you hear a shakey sigh pass his lips, melting into his couch more. "i'm tired."

your breath hitches with a sob. your head starts to feel light as you cry harder. you still don't look at him. "i think we need to break up."

minutes pass without a response from max. he doesn't even move an inch, his loud breaths and your muffled sobs are the only sounds that surround you.

you don't even notice all the scrambling outside from the team, packing up from their meeting to go back to the hotel.

you lift your head and turn to max. he's angled away from you, his fingers picking at his bottom lip with his tear-filled eyes. his breathing is steady as he stares at the blank dark blue walls.

you remind yourself: no answer is an answer.

so you do what you think is a favour to both of you. you get up and grab your purse from the ground, walking towards the door. the most painful part isn't all that he said to you that night, it's the fact that he just let you walk out without another utter of a word.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12 @barelytolerabled @vellicora

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke #formula 1 fanfiction

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just-another-author-i-guess · 1 year

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Ppppft!!! Elliot casually entering in Judd's room at the worst possible moments, yes please!! I like to think that Judd put all those signs in his door mainly because of his dad 🤣 Elliot and Diane embarrassing Judd is everything i need in this life, hopefully in front of his crush lol 😈

This has been stuck in my head literally the whole week— it’s too good not to write seriously 🤭

Tags: fem! Reader, mentions of sex? Like a lot of mentions, also masturbation, also cockblocking lol, but as I keep saying this is big mouth fanfic what do you expect, Nick and Jessi being jealous boggles my brain, it’s too funny, Elliot Birch is an actual menace, he also has no regards for privacy, it’s his house so he can enter whatever room he wants ig, author had way too much fun writing this

I based this on my first big mouth story, read it HERE

Author’s note: I’m cackling. I loved writing this so much omg— why is it funny tormenting the characters so much 🧍🏻‍♀️anyways, I did my best with Diane and Elliot’s dialogue,, but it’s hard lol. I hope you find it as funny to read as I did to write, and also, ig I kinda lied bc the third and fourth reason technically doesn’t have anything to do with people barging into Judd’s room. But he does get embarrassed, and I needed a good title, sue me. No but seriously, I hope you like this haha

Four (4) reasons why Judd has ‘keep out’ signs on his door

Word count; 4,7K

Reason one (1)

The air in Judd’s room was warm, and humid, and seemed to have stilled once the two of you collapsed on the bed, worn out from an intense round of fucking.

He barely bothered covering himself, instead he threw you a somewhat sweaty shirt he had been wearing beforehand and pulled the covers up enough to just barely cover his hips. You accepted it with shaky hands and a worn out smile, almost purring as you slipped into the garment and burrowed yourself under his covers as well.

Between your legs, now resided a slowly cooling and increasingly sticky mess, still leaking from you as you turned in the bed. However, your boyfriend never made a move to get up and fetch a towel. He did reach out an inviting arm, though, urging you to scoot closer to him. You did so with a hazy look on your face, nuzzling into his neck and inhaling.

You listened to his heart beat wildly, his blood bump and felt so, so content. You heard him relax as well, a deep, low, grunt of a sigh as he settled in, clearly as ready for a nap as you were.

With the humidity and the stillness of everything, it was too easy to close your eyes and bask in the feeling of sleepiness. You were right there, on the sweet, blurry edge between sleep and consciousness when a series of rapid knocks broke through the silence.

Judd groaned, clearly on the cusp of sleep himself— voice even raspier than usual. Besides mumbling a few threatening words under his breath, he didn’t move to open the door or even care to call out to whoever was knocking. It would most likely be Nick, anyway, coming to bother you and he would set the world aflame before he let his stinky little brother see his girlfriend half naked.

None of you even had time to register it, before the door rattled, opened and a much too cheery Dr. Birch stepped through.

You froze— wide eyes searching Judd as the crease between his eyebrows became deeper and a murderous expression overtook his sleepy face.

“Dad.” He rasped. “Get the hell out.” He was quick to tuck the covers around you, especially your still very wet crotch and ass, completely disregarding the fact that he was butt naked himself. You shrieked as he suddenly rolled you in the sheets— grateful nonetheless as you came to face Elliot Birch, the man completely indifferent to the two of you and your nakedness.

“Oh, my sweet Judd!” Mr. Birch exclaimed, ignoring how you both looked very much like you wanted him to leave. “How magnificent is it, that you feel comfortable sharing your nude self with me and Y/n?”

He clasped both hands over his heart, dramatically, and Judd somehow turned even paler than he already was. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like; “I am going to fucking murder you.” And darted for the floor where he had thrown his jeans.

“Oh noo! No need to feel ashamed, Judd, I’ll take my pants off too!—“

“— no!” A choked out yell escaped you too quickly. Your face felt hot, and you didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that you were beat red by now. You did not need to see Judd’s dads bare ass after already already being embarrassed beyond belief.

Dr. Birch chuckled and smiled warmly at you. “Setting your boundaries, I see. I’m so proud of you Y/n— my son has such a strong willed girlfriend!”

Your cheeks burned. “Uh, right. Thank you, Dr. Birch,”

“Call me Elliot!”

Judd scoffed behind you, finally getting his pantless situation under control. “Fuck off, dad. Now. I mean it.” Even he was a bit too stunned to come up with a proper threat.

Elliot sighed, smiling. “Oh, I will, I will! I’ll leave you two lovers alone in just a minute! I do have a little favour to ask you first, though, Juddy,”

“What.” Judd deadpanned, the tips of his ears colouring slightly at the horrific nickname.

“I have this tag still on the back of my shirt, you see, I would have taken it off before trying the shirt on, but now I appreciate it so much I didn’t want to take it off myself— Ah, it holds such good memories of this morning!”

This morning in particular, Nick tried to hit on you and Judd threw a milk carton at him.

Judd sighed, deeply, and looked a bit like a feral bull. “You are such a fucking pussy, dad.” He growled, but still walked towards his dad with intend to help.

“Thank you! That is such a beautiful organ,” You kinda wanted to snicker, at the absurdity of the whole situation, but kept your mouth shut. Judd worked quickly, ripping out the tag and throwing it at his dad.

“Why the hell didn’t you ask Nick?” Judd grit out, coming to sit on the edge of his bed by your feet. He put a protective, soothing hand on your leg under the covers.

Dr. Birch laughed. “Because you’re so strong! And I love you, son,”

Judd visibly clenched his jaw, you had no doubt that if this continued a vein would pop on his forehead. “I hate you.” He countered.

“And I validate that feeling! You have such a way with words, you should think about being a writer, don’t you think so too, Y/n?”

“Get the fuck out.” Judd snarled before you had to respond— thankfully. You smiled awkwardly at Mr. Birch, as if trying to confirm Judd’s words but in a much politer way.

He smiled. “Alright, alright! Have fun, you two, and be safe!” He said over his shoulder, as if it wasn’t obvious that the two of you had just very much had your fun, and sauntered towards the door, closing it gently behind him.

Reason two (2)

Unfortunately for Judd, he didn’t have his own bathroom in the house, having to share two between his family.

Around the shower, was carefully placed a plethora of different pastel coloured shampoo and body washes— all of which belonged to Leah and smelled like a candy crush fever dream. Judd sorted through them roughly, pushing most of them over in his search to find the all-in-one and shampoo for dyed hair he usually used.

As he showered, working the shampoo into his hair and revelling in the warm, steamy water spray, Maury appeared; ‘You’re taking a shower for Y/n, huh?’ The hormone monster drawled. He was bored; checking his nails as he made himself comfortable on the toilet outside the shower.

Judd grunted. It was true, you would be over in a bit and he didn’t want to smell like the raccoons. “Why are you here?” He demanded.

The monster chuckled and held up his hands in defence. ‘It’s not my fault you can’t stop thinking about Y/n.. Ahh, remember last week when she sucked you off in the shower? Why’s she not doing that right now? Let’s call her,’ Suddenly Maury had Judd’s phone, and was waving it around.

“Fuck you. Let me shower.”

‘No, let’s fuck Y/n!’ Maury countered enthusiastically. ‘And besides, y’know that’s not how it works,’ He grinned mirthfully, slithering around the glass wall of the shower to point a long, clawed finger at Judd’s cock— sure enough it was rising to attention. ‘You gotta jerk off. C’mon, give me a good show!’

Judd could have punched Maury— and he had actually tried that before, just for the monster to disappear and reappear behind him with a smug look. So instead of drop kicking his hormone monster, he promptly ignored him and turned around to face the water spray.

‘Nuh-uh,’ Maury grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around— he shook the monster off with a deep growl. ‘Think about Y/n’s nice, biiig tits, ah~’ Maury shuddered, but continued. ‘Remember how they looked all wet, uhhh I bet she’d let you blow your load all over them next time,’ Maury was unrelenting, an increasingly deepening blush spread over Judd’s face and ears and he let out a strangled groan.

“Shit, fine!” He hissed and the monster whooped in victory.

Judd was quick to tip his head back and grab his dick with a closed fist. He sighed through gritted teeth as he got to work— swiftly and quite roughly pumping himself as Maury cheered him on. He closed his eyes and let his jaw go slack, imagining it was your hand around him and recalling the alluring noises you made whenever he was pleasuring you.

His release build steadily, hand movements getting more frantic and his breath sped up. The spray of water only seemed to get hotter, and the steam in the room became more dense. He leaned forward— spreading his hand out on the wall in front of him to get a better angle, and keep his balance. Now his head hung low, and he panted open-mouthed as he tightened the grip around his cock and sped up his movements again. He was so close, just a few more pumps and—

The bathroom door flew open and Judd all but jumped out of his own skin. He had locked the door when he first entered, right?

‘Nooo..! Elliot, get the hell out!’ Maury yowled— appearing on the other side of the shower and trying to push out the intruder, who unfortunately was Judd’s dad. Elliot could neither see nor hear or feel the monster, so Maury’s punching and shaking left him completely unfazed as he continued further into the room.

Judd’s eyes shot open, slack mouth turning into a frightening scowl as he heard his dad sing to himself. Elliot sauntered about the bathroom— humming a song about lotion and browsing through the cabinets.

“Don’t mind me, Juddy!” He yelled over the water, as if it was a most normal occurrence to walk in on your 18-year-old son taking a shower.

Maury slithered back into the shower. ‘Let’s kill him. Now. And then we can tend to your little.. problem after,’ He suggested, glaring at Elliot’s shadow through the shower window. Luckily, it was steamy enough to only show silhouettes, so Judd could at least maintain a bit of dignity.

Judd grunted and nodded in agreement, turning off the shower. “Get the fuck out,” He rumbled, low and threatening.

“I can’t find my lotion anywhere! It makes my skin so soft— just the way your mother likes it,” Elliot tutted, completely ignoring Judd’s orders.

“I’ll fucking skin you alive. Get out.” Judd repeated, this time raspier, raising his voice. The steam from the warm water was slowly dissolving— leaving the glass in the shower clear enough to reveal most of Elliot to Judd and vice versa.

Elliot chuckled warmly. “You have such a poetic soul, son. It’s such a shame you don’t write more,”

A cross between a deep growl and sigh escaped Elliot’s oldest son. “What the hell are you talking about.” Judd said, and though it sounded like a question he didn’t actually want to know the answer.

Dr. Birch turned to his oldest, now fully visible behind the shower glass and said; “Your creative potential! Ohhh! You should write Y/n a love letter, she would love it—“

“— Fuck no.”

Elliot’s eyebrows creased, and his facial expression turned earnest. “I know you’re very good at pleasing Y/n with your body—“

“—Dad, shut up—” Now Judd was really embarrassed, he had both hands covering his privates, but was still very much butt naked in front of his dad, a reality that didn’t fail to make a blush creep over his ears and cheeks. The fact that he was also still rock hard, didn’t help at all.

“— But!” Elliot continued, pointedly ignoring Judd. “You should do something romantic for her! Something with your heart! You should always show a woman how much you love her, Judd,” He reminded, a gentle smile on his face as he watched his son grow increasingly embarrassed.

“Okay. I don’t care. Get the fuck out.” Judd deadpanned. He had let his facade slip for just a brief moment— before covering his appalled expression up with a vicious glare.

“Oh, but I still need my lotion—“

“— I’ll gut you and fill you with your fucking lotion if you don’t get out.” He snarled, strained and deep and his look made it clear it was definitely not up for debate.

‘Boo! Get the fuck out, Elliot!’ Maury added in the background, throwing a shampoo bottle at the man.

All he did was chuckle at the threat— shrugging his shoulders. “Alright, Juddy, I respect your boundaries. It’s important to acknowledge such things,” He smiled and relented his search for lotion. He continued humming obnoxiously, however, as he left and softly closed the door behind him.

Reason three (3)

You gasped, puffy lips parting to make way for the eager sound. Judd had roughly thrown you on the couch, slotting himself between your legs and ferociously attacked your neck as soon as you had walked in the door.

Finally, finally, the two of you were alone— in fact, you had the whole house to yourself. Leah was out, Mr and Mrs Birch had taken Nick out for dinner which left you and Judd the perfect opportunity to fuck on the living room couch. And you barely got a saying (not that you minded) before Judd was putting that plan into action.

Scrambling to put your hands under his shirt, you clumsily felt him up— lightly scratching at his abs just how you knew he liked it. He growled, heavy and husky and bit hard on your neck in retaliation.

A strangled whine escaped you and you pulled at his shirt— you needed it off. You felt him grin against your throat, just the slightest twist of his mouth as he scraped his teeth against you.

“Use your words, baby,” He breathed, cruelly dragging his teeth so slowly against your sensitive neck and grinding into you— so you could properly feel him.

It was so unfair, he knew you’d have no chance of responding when he started palming at your tits, squeezing one in each hand.

You tugged harder, pulling Judd closer to you in the process. “Off.” Was the only thing you were able to whine.

He licked a long stripe up your neck— tasting you to the best of his ability before he obeyed you. He sat on his knees between your legs, and you watched him with a flushed face as he pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor somewhere.

Connie, who previously had been banned to the floor where she sat and watched the two of you intensely, stood up— her mouth dropped cartoonishly, hanging on the floor as her tongue lolled out.

‘Sweet mother of jeebus! Look at those strong, delicious abs..! Lick them— c’mon lick them, hurry! Lick them till he’s all you can taste, sugarplum!’ She cried, and it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

You couldn’t help but oblige. You sat up, the way your legs were placed allowing you to straddle him and push him backwards on the couch. To your utter bamboozlement he let you, allowing you control for just a moment as a self-satisfied eyebrow-raise came to his face.

Half sitting up, he now had the perfect position to ground up into you and you immediately lost what little control you had. Two large hands enclosed around your hips in a lock tight hold—starting a rhythm in which he could press your hips down on his.

He kissed you then, a tingling feeling erupting in your lower stomach as you tasted the Jack Daniel’s on his tongue. He licked into your mouth with newfound fever, swallowing your desperate yelps and moans— one hand wandering from your hip to your shoulder where he started to push the strap of your tank-top down.

You arched your back, pressing into him, and he took the opportunity to roughly squeeze your ass. In retaliation, you reached a hand down— roughly squeezing his cock through his jeans.

He groaned, a throaty, baritone sound. “You bitch..!” He cursed and then he was pulling your hair— suddenly pulling you back from his mouth with a harsh tug so he could position you in a way that allowed him to abuse your neck some more.

He bit you so hard it was sure to leave marks, red and swollen bite marks that would sit on your neck for weeks like an obnoxious neon sign. You sighed and started working his belt—fighting to get it off so you could get your price quicker.

However, just as you were done popping the button on his jeans, the front door clicked and swung open.

“No, dad! You’re embarrassing me—“

“— You used to love your father’s hugs, Nick, what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, mom, but I’m a man now. I don’t want hugs.”

“Awww, please, Nicky. Let me give my little man a hug,”

“No, dad, leave me a— Judd?” Nick walked further into the room, in an attempt to escape being coddled by his dad— but came face to face with you on top of his older brother instead.

Judd’s grip on your hair immediately loosened, Connie cursed and tried to close the front door before Elliot and Diane could enter— you sat up, mortified and corrected the strap of your top back to your shoulder.

“Nick.” Judd stated, barely bothering lifting his head to look at his brother. You, however, stared the tween down wide-eyed. “Fuck off, we’re busy.” He grunted. The very same sentence he said whenever Nick would brother the two of you in his room.

You watched as Nick’s fists clenched, his face going through multiple shades of red till it landed on an angry glare directed at his brother. “Judd, you're such a slut!” He yelled, voice crack audible and was that.. tears in his eyes?

“Are you going to cry, you little prick?” Judd cackled— sitting upright all the way so his chest was pressed to yours.

“Now, Nicky, what are you slut-shaming your brother for?” Dr. Birch waltzed through the front door along with his wife— as if this moment couldn’t get any worse. You moved to get off Judd, but when he grunted and held your hips down, you noticed he was indeed still incredibly hard and you would need to sit still, so as to not expose his boner to his family.

You felt hot, too clammy as red colour spread from your chest all the way to your ears— like a kettle heating.

‘Yeah, fuck this. Sorry, sweetheart, but I cannot deal with this today! You’re on your own!’ Connie patted your head, slowly backing away and into a portal that would take her to god-knows-where and throwing you a ‘peace out’ sign. Wow. Such support.

“Look at what he’s doing to Y/n!” Nick accused, waving his arms at the two of you.

You didn’t know it was possible, but Dr. Birch frowned, looking down at his son. “Now, Nicky, it’s never okay to slut-shame someone, especially not when you’re witnessing such a beautiful moment! Judd is just sharing an intimate moment with Y/n, nothing to be ashamed off,”

Judd stiffened under you, he was tense, you were tense, both of you embarrassed beyond belief. Your ears burned bright red, horrified.

Your boyfriend let out a warning growl. “Shut the hell up, dad—“

“— Oh, Y/n! It’s so good to see you!” Then it was Diane talking, she walked towards the two of you on the couch with a warm smile. You couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes— not when you were literally sitting on Judd’s boner, so instead you buried your head in his shoulder.

“Good to see you, too, Mrs. Birch..” You muttered, feeling Judd’s hands tighten around you.

Diane tutted. “Oh, Y/n, no need to be embarrassed. I’m glad you both feel comfortable having sex under our roof, and you are more than welcome to,”

It was an attempt to soothe you, yet it sounded so warped coming from your boyfriend's mom’s mouth.

Judd heaved a long sigh. “We have.. shit to do. Leave.” He said, sounding equally as mortified as you felt.

Mrs. Birch chuckled lightly. “We’ll be upstairs, Juddy. You two just enjoy yourself, and Y/n, please stay for dinner!” She hummed— you wanted to cry.

You kept your head burrowed into Judd, listening as Mr and Mrs. Birch’s footsteps resounded towards the stairs, yet one pair of feet remained.

“Get the fuck out, shitface.” Judd deadpanned.

“I’m allowed to be here, it’s my house too!” Nick was defiant, pouting at his brother.

Judd’s jaw clenched— Nick would definitely come to regret this later. “You have a second to leave before I come over there and rip your beady eyes out, you fucking creep.” His voice was low and carnal and it was clear he meant business— that was no empty threat.

Nick paled slightly, but before he could even begin to find the right response, Diane called from upstairs; “Nicholas Birch! Go to your room and leave your brother alone, now!”

At that, Nick complied immediately, secretly relieved to get a free ticket out of the situation before Judd would beat him to a pulp as he flew up the stairs.

Reason four (4)

You were sprawled out on Judd’s bed, a raccoon curled on your lap and Connie laying on her back by your feet. She was watching Judd intensely as he worked out— occasionally commenting on his grunts or groans as he lifted the heavy weights.

You didn’t bother entertaining her, gently stroking the raccoon while scrolling on your phone. The animal chatted to you, small hands wavering about as it chittered. You thoroughly enjoyed moments like this, when you and your boyfriend could co-exist quietly and in peace. Judd was lying on the floor somewhere, having moved on from the weights to instead practise his pushups. The two of you would probably go out later, after the rather excruciating last few interactions you had with Judd’s parents, the two of you decided to skip dinner with them for the time being.

Your phone was hooked to Judd’s speaker, as he had graciously allowed you to play music for him while he worked out. The raccoon in your lap seemed to enjoy your taste in music as well- tail swaying softly to the baseline.

Catching your hormone monster from the corner of your eye, you saw how she stiffened and suddenly sat up. Her hairs stood up, ears turning down as she surveyed the room— she turned to say something to you, but right before the sounds escaped her, three shy knocks came to the door.

Judd, who was now doing crunches, sat up fully to fix you a blank stare. He gestured towards the door with his head and raised eyebrows, you pouted but got up. The raccoon in your lap protested as you softly shooed it off— it scurried off under the bed to hide from whoever came to disturb you. Connie followed closely behind you, slinking after you like a shadow as you approached the door.

Opening the door, you were already quite ready to fight off Nick or Mr. Birch, but what you didn’t expect, however, was your sister standing there and wringing her hands with a nervous expression.

“Uh, Jessi?” You didn’t even know she was here, actually you hadn’t seen her since yesterday evening when Judd picked you up from your dad’s.

Connie raised a hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Oh sweet child..’ She muttered, studying your sister from over your shoulder.

Jessi took a step back, startled, when instead of her crush she came face to face with you in pyjama shorts and one of Judd’s shirts. You bend over a little, to be more on level with her. “What are you doing here? Do you need a lift home, or something?”

She gaped at you, clearly losing track of whatever she was going to say. You watched, a bit concerned, as gears turned in her head. Then, you felt something, someone, else at your side. You wrinkled your nose as Judd came up besides you— his sweaty palm enclosing around your waist as he pulled you to him.

You wanted to comment on it— tell him to shower before he got his sweat all over you, but he beat you to it; “Hey Y/n’s sister Jessi.” He grumbled, granting the tween a downwards glance.

Jessi looked positively constipated, and also a bit like she was going to puke. You freed yourself from Judd— dropping to your knees and gently holding Jessi’s shoulder. “Jessi-bear, are you sick?”

Connie followed you closely again, this time appearing behind your sister, clutching her closely and spreading a palm over her forehead to feel her temperature. ‘She’s down with a baaad case of Judd fever!’ The monster exclaimed, slightly shaking Jessi, whose blush had now risen from her neck all the way to her ears— colouring her face completely red.

You sighed as your sister seemed to boot up again from her temporary lockdown. She quickly stepped back from you, and you realised she was holding something behind her hands. Connie noticed it too; ‘Aw Jessi.. So cute, but sad. Very, very sad. Actually kinda pathetic, you better let her down easy, Y/n, sugar.’

“I am not Jessi-bear! And I’m not sick! Just.. Just regular, old, fun, Jessi..” She waved you off, and you stood back up— slightly surprised by her outburst.

You tried, and failed, to hide your grin. Apparently, Judd thought your sister's awkward demeanour was funny as well. “Okay, regular, old, fun Jessi. What do you want?” He said, raising a brow at the flustered tween.

She swallowed thickly, and you fixed Judd a glance that meant ‘don’t be mean’. He retaliated by shrugging and wrapping his arm around you again. Jessi’s blush somehow grew more vivid�� she looked a bit like a cat on edge as she dared a glance up at your boyfriend.

“I was just, y’know, strolling by–” Connie clasped a large paw over her mouth, shaking her again. ‘–Stop talking, baby! Stop talking!’ She howled, though Jessi didn’t seem to hear or even feel her.

“This hallway has such interesting architecture, did you notice that?” She finished off, fiddling with whatever she had behind her back and making a point of staring at the ceiling instead of Judd. Your boyfriend in question only grunted, keeping his intense glare on Jessi.

Sighing, you said; “It doesn’t. It’s a hallway. Look, if you need a lift home I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes, but shouldn’t you hang out with your friends or something instead? I’m sure Nick is looking for you,” You hinted, but all you got from Jessi was a vivid glare.

“Yeah. Actually, you’re right. I was just dropping by, but I’m actually really, really busy, so..” She shifted on her feet, turning to leave and accidentally exposing you to the thing she had been holding.

Judd’s eyebrows drew closer together, in a full on scowl. “Is that my shirt?”

You snorted. “Oh my god!” You stared at your sister in bewilderment, trying to decide whether it was funny, gross or awkward beyond belief; You settled on a good mix of both.

Immediately, the garment slipped from Jessi’s hands and she paled. “I-I-I found it like this! I just wanted to return it!” She could have puked, breathing speeding up as she fought off the hyperventilation and stared at the two of you with a horrified look that meant you had definitely caught her red-handed.

“Are you stealing Judd’s shirts? I knew I had a bunch of them, did you seriously take them?” You asked, now mortified. Judd let out a series of low, cackling laughs as you watched your sister tear up. She opened and closed her mouth, fighting to say something but ultimately gave up— running off down the hall as you watched her retreating form with bewilderment.

You’ve reached the bottom🧍🏻‍♀️thank you for reading this far, haha, I hope you enjoyed it. The last one was heavily inspired by that scene in the new season were Jessie walk in on Judd and his girlfriend(?), I just saw that and needed to write something similar

I’m now on my winter break, and I’ve got a lots of idea for Judd content for y’all this week so look out for that!

With this story, I literally need to add this meme; reblogged to me by @raccoon66

Thank you so much lol, it’s literally the best thing ever 🙏🙏

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn

#big mouth #judd birch x reader #judd birch #judd birch smut #big mouth x reader

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

Hey hey! i have a third angsty silly idea teehee (yes same person who requested the one where wife reader gets teleported to the hotel and the one with the fake dating trope-)

Im at it again with my silly ideas i can’t quite get out of my head- so picture this RIGHT before the begging of the second fic (loved it btw if i could id kiss you on the mouth)

(this interaction is important) Reader is eyeing Alastor to subconsciously make him talk to her, he does of course it goes a bit like “Alastor dear, havent seen you before?” "Just moved in, thought of making some acquaintances” and they talk, reader tells him “a charmer too? should be careful around you not to break my heart” or smth smilar idk i suck at dialogue

And then the partnership happens and theyve been at it for a while (like at least 5 years id say)- until Readers twin brother dies in a planned house fire and she goes out for revenge, before that they have a fight like “youre going to be out numbered” “its suicide” blah blah blah- and eventually reader goes out alone

She does manage to to kill the criminals but because of the cold January weather and the exhaustion of it all- reader gets hypothermia and in the frenzy thats caused by it stumbles and falls into a fence spike of an abandoned farmhouse, gets impaled right below the ribs teehee, Alastor eventually finding her and goes out to bury her properly.

readers death happens in 1925 -8 years before alastor which gibes her enough time to take over half the pentagram with her blizzard/ice powers (cuz i think theyre. cool ;)) and is also important reader has a long tail with fluff (which can turn into a heart shaped fur or have happy/angry twitches) at the end because i think its cute and because her demon form has one so it matches (think the faceless room guardians by anyaboz on IG but fully white- with a void face from which emerges a dog skull at will). the normal form being overall relatively normal aside from the long ears and black limbs that symbolize the hypothermia part of the death (Yes this is an Oc but im making it a bit more generic for everyone :>)

When alastor does die in 1933 (when he got shot visiting readers grave) he hears of this blizzard overlord and goes a bit into her territory and into a bar where he sees a somewhat familiar person teehee and they have the same first conversation over again but in hell :D and then get reunited but possibly pull out their signature weapons on each other again for old times sake 😇

also i love you so much for taking the time to write my dreams it does mean quite a lot to me and if you want i can give more ideas because i have a lot more- 😇 (im tottaly not insane and or delusional i swear-)

A/N of course?? I’m obsessed with your requests. they’re always so fun. Also as a heads up, I decided not to do this as a part to for cover up because I got an earlier request asking to do a part two for that and I try to address requests in the order I receive them. I also made some other minor changes just to make it work a little smoother. Also, please keep sending in requests, yours are always so fun.

Frostbite (Alastor X Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Murder, death, gore, arson, a little bit of angst.

Word Count: 3,949

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor sat at the bar of Mimzy's club drinking like he did every friday night. Normally the whirling dancers and loud music merely served to give him a headache, normally he ignored them and all the fans who somehow recognized him from the radio. Tonight was far from normal, tonight there was someone new.

Spinning on the dance floor, the fringe of her blood red dress spinning out from her legs. The woman was all smiles, all laughter, and she seemed never to turn down a partner. He watched her, entranced.

The woman wasn't a talented dancer, far from it in fact, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm and enjoyment. He had no intentions of doing anything other than watching her enchanting display until he made eye contact with her across the club. She blushed, turning away and quickly engaging a friend in conversation.

It was all the encouragement Alastor needed. In the dim light of the speakeasy, Alastor smiled to himself. He downed the rest of his drink and got to his feet. The crowed of dancers parted to make way for him like the red sea, waves of whispers following his path. He could hear the chatter, knew the rumors that he was a man uninterested in women, uninterested in love or romantic involvements of any type He knew that that was what everyone was speaking of as he approached the first new face the tired old place had seen in ages.

Coming to a stop behind the woman, her friend saw him first. It made sense, her back was turned to him after all, a result of her embarrassment at having been caught staring. He friend tapped her shoulder, indicating for the woman to turn around, and she spun. Alastor could feel the hem of her dress as it brushed against his leg through the fabric of his pants. His smile grew.

"Haven't seen you around here before Darling," he hummed, "new in town?"

"Just moved in, actually." the woman bashfully replied, clasping her hands behind her back and crossing one foot in front of the other.

The position it threw her body into sent Alastor's mind reeling. He hadn't expected that. Sure, she was pretty and different, new, but Alastor didn't feel things like that. At least, not normally.

"Well, I'd love to give you a tour sometime. The name is Alastor, Alastor Hartifelt."

This was the test: his name. How would she react? Was she just another one of his simpering fans, begging for his favor, for his attention, or would she do something interesting?

He held out a hand which she daintily rested her own in, a smile spreading across her face.

"Y/n L/n. I'm free tomorrow morning?"

Alastor was lucky, Saturday mornings were one of the few he had free. Gently, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Y/n felt her heart flutter inside her chest.

"Ah, a charmer." she hummed as Alastor raised his head again and she took her hand from his, "I'll have to be careful around you."

Everything had snowballed from there. The tour around the city had spiraled into dinner which had further fallen into an attempt by Alastor to take her life. He had been curious, how it would feel when the life drained from her body at the force of his hands. Instead, she had met his advances by holding her own knife to his throat.

It became a game of sorts for the two, always trying to outwit one another, one up each other, land the other six feet under. The game ended when Alastor was chasing Y/n through the woods and she had stumbled, falling to the ground. He had grinned maniacally as he had advanced on her, as she had scrambled on the ground away from him. Knife raised, her back against a tree, she had breathlessly asked him out on a date. How could he say no? Especially when he looked up and saw that she had planned this all along. There was no other way their initials could be carved into the surface of the very thing that had stopped her escape. It was perfect, she was perfect.

Five years of bliss. Five years of feathery kisses and passion. Five years of waking up to her smiling face, of washing the blood off each other's hands, of nearly wedded bliss. Then there had been the fire.

Y/n had a twin brother, a brute of a thing who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Despite his flaws, Y/n loved him. This time, on a January morning in 1925, he had pissed off the wrong person and gotten himself killed. Y/n was inconsolable, spent every waking moment tracking the killer. It didn't take her long to get a lead.

She was halfway out the door when Alastor found her, shoving knives into her pockets and grabbing a gun. There was a wild, unfocused look in her eyes. Alastor turned his gaze momentarily to the setting sun as it sent rays of liquid golden light bouncing off the snow.

"Darling, what are you doing?"

"Going out." she gruffly replied, adjusting the laces on one of her shoes.

Alastor sighed. Y/n had mentioned to him just the day before that she had an idea of who was behind the murder and it wasn't pretty. The most controversial and strongest gang in the city had, according to her research, wielded the flames. Alastor took a step forward, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder and she turned to him. Her eyes were hard and narrow, her face contorted by rage.

"Y/n, please." Alastor began, treading carefully, "Not tonight. It's awful out, and you just confirmed everything today."

"No." Y/n shook her head, "No, I can't wait to do this any longer, Al. It has already been nearly a month, I can't..."

She looked away, raising a fist to her heart, her shoulders hunching slightly.

"I can't."

"And I can't loose you." Alastor quickly replied, using his free hand to turn her face back to his.

"So come with me."

He hesitated. Y/n saw the look on his face, the doubt. She shook herself from his grip, turning back to the door.

"Alright. I'll go alone."

"Y/n," Alastor pleaded, taking another step towards her as she grabbed her coat off the hook on the wall, "it is too dangerous. I can't let you do this."

"Let me do this?" Y/n spun around, her coat in her hand and flames licking at the corners of her voice, "You can't let me do this?"

Alastor took a breath, trying desperately to keep his own anger at bay.

"There are too many of them." he tried to reason with her, "You can't do it on your own."

"So come with me!"

"I..."

Y/n scoffed, sliding her jacket onto her arms. Turning back to the door once again, she unlocked it. Her hand rested on the knob, she took a breath. Their eyes met over her shoulder.

"I'll be home later."

She swung the door open and stepped out into the night. Alastor trailed after her, the snow sinking into his socks. It was cold, a terrible night.

"Y/n, you'll die!"

"Do you truly have that little faith in me!?" she spun around, her rage radiating off of her, devouring everything in sight.

Alastor had never seen her like this before. He halted in his tracks.

"Please, I can't..." he took a deep breath, emotions had always been a struggle, "I can't loose you too."

"But I'm supposed to loose my brother and know who did it and do nothing?!" she screamed back at him.

"You will die!"

Y/n turned her back on him once again. She unlatched the gate to the garden and slipped through it, letting it fall shut behind her.

"So be it."

"Y/n!"

Alastor tried to run after her but, it was simply too cold. His limbs were numb, he stumbled.

"Y/n!" he yelled again but, she didn't turn around.

He could see her, in that red dress. She looked like she did the first time he had ever met her as she disappeared into the night. He knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, it felt like an omen.

Alastor stood in the cold for a few minutes longer before resigning himself to the truth of it all: Y/n was going to do what she was going to do. He just had to hope she would come back, that the damage he had done in refusing to back her up like that wouldn't be enough to have driven her away. That she was strong enough to make it out alive.

The fireplace crackled invitingly. No matter how warm and cheerful it made the room, Alastor couldn't stop the dread. He sat down on the couch before it, painfully aware of the empty spot beside him. He tried to read.

The hours ticked by, seconds dragging on for eternity. Still, Y/n was not yet home. Alastor couldn't focus on anything. He couldn't 't read, couldn't sleep, could barely sit still. He paced circles around the room as the sun rose, he called in sick to work, intent on being there should she return.

When it reached four pm, when it had been nearly twenty full hours since she had left, he decided to go out and look for her. Y/n had always been messy, always bad at putting things away. While normally it had irritated him to no end, he now found himself grateful. He swore to whatever gods were listening that if she was alright, he would never bother her about it again because right there on top of her desk were all her plans, including the exact location of the gang's hideout, the exact place she had disappeared to.

The sight that met Alastor when he reached the old warehouse on the outskirts of the city was one he would never forget. Blood stained the snow red and there were bodies everywhere, both outside and within. It was clearly, Y/n's handiwork and he couldn't help but feel a tad impressed, he had underestimated her yet again. His slight smile, a result of the realization, fell as he spotted the footprints leading out of the backdoor.

He had tracked Y/n enough times to know they were hers, they couldn't be anyone else's. A trail of blood accompanied them, one foot dragging more than the other. Alastor tried to keep his head clear, his mind cool. He gave chase.

The back yard to the warehouse was large, gave the impression of going right off into the woods. Alastor soon realized that was not the case as the rusted, wrought iron fence came in to view. Y/n wouldn't have been able to see it. Judging by the way the tracks were iced over, it had been a long time since she had walked this path. In the dead of night, surrounded by trees, the fence would have come as a surprise.

As he got closer, the lump that he had assumed was a fallen branch came into more detail. Alastor's heart stopped, he rushed to her.

If only he hadn't waited, if only the minute he had felt she'd been gone too long he had gone after her. He might have been able to save her, to stop her from this cruel fate.

What had happened was obvious. The fence was iced over, slippery to the touch. Y/n had evidently tried to climb over it and lost her grip, the force of her fall being enough to ram the sharpened edge of one of the fence's defensive points right through her temple. Wrong place, wrong time.

Alastor had never cried like that before, as he sat in the snow at her feet, her body stiff from the cold. Not even when his mother had died could he ever remember feeling such a grief. It ate away at him, pooling in the center of his chest and spreading out. She had been so integral to who he was, so much a part of his life and way of being. She had been his dream, his end goal. Alastor remembered the ring, sitting heavy in the drawer of his night table. His tears redoubled.

By the time he managed to calm himself, the early winter sun had long since sunk to its bed and been replaced by the moon. Moving completely on autopilot, not considering his actions, Alastor wrenched her body from the fence. Y/n deserved a proper burial, in a place that mattered. He made her final resting place at the base of the very same tree she had told him she loved him while sitting at. His fingers traced their carved initials, grown hard with the years. There was nothing to be done.

The guilt ate away at him, festered over the years. If only he had stopped her, had gone with her, had come to her rescue. If only he had told her that he loved her one last time.

When Y/n awoke in Hell, to say she was surprised would be an understatement. She had never been one to believe in the afterlife in any sort of way, let alone such a wonderful one with so many opportunities for mayhem.

The thing that had been the toughest to get used to was her new form. All the demons in Hell got them upon arrival and when she caught that first glimpse of herself in the glass of a shop window, she understood why everyone on the streets seemed to be eyeing her fearfully.

She looked like she was rotting, her fingertips and toes black from the cold she had lost herself in. It trailed up her limbs, mingling with her own natural skin color. Her hair, her eye lashes, her eyebrows even, looked perpetually frosted with snow, little particles of ice hanging delicately in them. Then there were the horns and the tail, those were by far the strangest. The horns were pure white and curving like a mountain goats, the tail was thin with a little heart shaped ball of fluff at the end. It wasn't until another demon attempted to attack her that she realized the full extent of the changes that had taken place.

Y/n had just tried to punch the man, that was all. He had made advances, she had said no. He had tried again and she had told him she was married. It wasn't entirely a lie, they had been planning on it after all. Still, the man refused to listen and so, she had resorted to brute strength. When she had pulled her fist away, it was to find the man encased in ice. That was when the anger had set in.

Y/n didn't blame Alastor, not really. She was mad at him but, in the end, he had been right. She had died. It was all so brutally unfair. The way they had left things, that final fight, weighed on her soul. She wondered if he even knew she was dead, if he just assumed she had up and left him. The guilt, the what if's of it all, were crushing.

The stronger Y/n's emotions, the more uncontrollable her power. She still attacked people for fun but, taking over half of Pentagram City with her storms had honestly been an accident. In retrospect, she would call it a happy one.

Y/n liked being respected, being feared. She liked the near worship with which the smaller, weaker demons began to treat her. She settled into her new life with surprising ease and soon, every demon and hellborn in the place knew her name: Frost.

Y/n would've liked something different, preferred something cooler but, when the people give someone a name, its hard to change it and so, she embraced the title. Stone cold, cruel, powerful and appearing at what others perceived as totally inopportune moments. She locked herself, her heart, away. She swore never to make the same mistakes again.

Alastor visited Y/n's grave at least once every year. Always on the anniversary of her death, sometimes more frequently. That was where he too had met his death. As he had stooped low to place the bouquet of flowers he had brought on the surface of the hard-packed earth, the hunter had shot him, thinking he was a deer.

His arrival in Hell had been uneventful and not all together shocking. Alastor had been raised in a Christian household and although he never truly had faith in the matter once he had been old enough to form his own opinions, he had still always assumed that if there was life after death he was going to end up in Hell. He also knew that if he had ended up down here, Y/n had too.

The search was all consuming and fruitless. Every demon he interrogated, every one he thought had the slightest spark of his love within them, never had a single clue what he was talking about. Half the city was a snow storm and before long, that half was the only part he hadn't searched. Allegedly it was the territory of some new overlord known only as Frost who had taken Hell by storm - literally - just a few years before. Alastor already had a distaste in his mouth for the overlords, a sort of hatred spawned from something close to envy. He figured that worst case scenario, he could just add this Frost character to the list over overlords he had already taken out in the year since his arrival.

The chill of the air as he stepped over the border was a cruel reminder of the truth of his life. Alastor welcomed the cold with open arms, wondered if Y/n had already been killed since arriving in Hell. He had heard of the exterminations, it wasn't too wild of an idea. The thought gnawed on his mind like a parasite, intent on seeing him dead. Alastor progressed.

The fact that in death he still felt such things as hunger had been a mystery to him. There was something poetic about it, something forlorn in the idea that hunger and touch were the only things that followed a person to their grave. He stepped into the restaurant, his stomach growling, and walked up to the bar.

"Do you have beignets?"

Alastor knew the answer before the barkeep even shook his head. He sighed, falling on to one of the stools.

"Sausage and grits."

"Coming right up."

Alastor tapped his fingers on the counter, watching the world around him. Hope was running thin, anxieties and hurt taking over. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, how much more disappointment he could take.

"Haven't seen you around before, Darling," a voice purred from behind him, sending shockwaves of pain through his chest, "new in town?"

He summoned his microphone into his hand, ready to fight. It didn't matter that the demon most likely had no idea the effect of their words, the connections they had to his own past life. All that mattered was that he felt like he was being mocked, the world was parroting his life back to him because Y/n was out of his reach and probably would be forever more. He turned to face the person, a sickening grin spread tight across his face.

The demon had a clearing around her, the crowd avoiding her at all costs and whispering to one another behind the cover of their hands. Her tail flicked back and forth, ice emanating from the place her feet hit the floor.

There was something oddly familiar about her, the cocky smirk, the confidence. Alastor got to his feet. He leered over her and the woman didn't flinch one bit.

"Who's asking?"

A threat. The smile on the smaller demon's face grew, snow beginning to pile up on the floor in the corners of the room.

"You know, it's really far too cruel of you to go around with a voice like that." she hummed thoughtfully, a finger to her chin, "Gets a girl's hopes up just to shatter 'em on the floor."

Alastor could feel it now, the cold nipping at his extremities. Wind picked up in the indoor space and demons began rushing out through the door as quickly as they could. Alastor stood his ground.

"Ah, so you're the one responsible for this little snow town?"

"Why yes, I am."

"You're rather cruel yourself, you know." he mused, "Using my own words against me, how did you know? Do you overlords have some way to read a person's mind? Find the center of their desire and turn it to a weapon?"

Only now did the woman's expression change. Her calm facade morphed into confusion as the winds died down.

"What do you mean?"

"'Haven't seen you around here before, Darling, new in town?'" Alastor scoffed.

Y/n's eyes widened with a sudden recognition. It only fueled Alastor's anger as he took a step forward, shadows rising from the ground at his feet.

"I-"

"Just moved in, actually." the demon cut him off, holding a hand out for him to take, palm to the floor.

Alastor looked at her, disgust etched into his features.

"How could you..." he trailed off.

Eyes flicking over her form, Alastor examined the demoness carefully. Sure, she was different. She looked half dead, frost bitten to the extreme but, there was certainly something familar.

"Who are..."

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. Slowly, he took her hand in his. It was icy to the touch, sent shivers down his spine. With a practiced grace, he leaned down and planted a feathery kiss on the back of her hand.

"Ah, a charmer." Y/n smiled as he raised his head to hers again, "I'll have to be careful around you."

"Y/n."

It wasn't a question, he knew the answer. Alastor could feel it in his bones.

"Alastor."

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Alastor watched her movements in astonishment. Disbelief laid thick on his body, too heavy to allow him to move.

"I'm so sorry." she whispered into his ear, her breath a cold breeze.

"I... why are you sorry?" he asked, pulling her away from him.

Alastor placed his hands on her shoulders, brushing off a bit of snow that had landed there with utmost care.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I should have come with you, I shouldn't have said the things I said, I sh-"

"I love you."

She couldn't hold the words in anymore. Icicles of tears tinkled like glass as they fell from her cheeks and landed on the floor.

"I... I love you, Alastor. I can't... I always regretted... I..."

"Me too."

He pulled her back into his arms, this time holding her body tightly to his. The cold burned but he didn't care. The whistling of the wind outside seemed to quiet.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I am so sorry."

"I'm so sorry."

Y/n pulled back, cupping Alastor's face in her hands.

"Never again."

"Never what, my love."

"Never again will I be parted from you."

"I thought I'd never see you again." Alastor admitted, "I was beginning to lose hope."

"Me too, me too."

"Never again."

----

Next Part -> Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

A/N I am such a little slut for a good reunion scene.

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zapreportsblog · 7 months

Note

Like an underweight reader that’s just self conscious and she moves to Forks, and as soon as she walks into class Edward can hear all of her self-doubt thoughts and like it’s an overwhelming amount.

❝perfectly imperfect❞

✭ pairing : Edward Cullen x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is the new girl in Forks Highschool, she is extremely self conscious when it comes to her appearance and Edward Cullen - a boy she happens to be sitting next to on the first day of school notices just how self conscious she seems to be, but maybe it has to do with the face he can hear her thoughts

✭ authors note : I am in no way shape or fork making fun of skinny individuals when I write this story, I am not weight shaming or skinny shaming. All topics in this story cover real issues that individuals across the world face nor am I making light of the situation, but what I am in fact doing is bringing a concerning topic to light and writing on it

✭ twilight masterlist

(Y/N) had always been the new girl. It seemed like every few years, her life took her to a different place, a different town. And now, she found herself in the small, rainy town of Forks. She had moved there with her family, seeking a fresh start after yet another series of changes.

Her first day at Forks High School was both exciting and nerve-wracking. She was determined to make a good impression, but her own insecurities lingered in the back of her mind. As she walked through the halls, she couldn't help but feel out of place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

"Stay confident, (Y/N)," she whispered to herself.

Despite her internal pep talk, those nagging thoughts persisted. She felt too skinny, her clothes hung on her slender frame, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to lose weight. It was a constant battle against her own self-doubt.

Her first real challenge came in science class. She found herself paired with a strikingly handsome boy with unruly bronze hair and piercing eyes—Edward Cullen. As they settled into their seats, (Y/N)'s mind raced with unkind thoughts about herself, thoughts she would never dare say aloud.

“I'm too fat," she thought. "I should eat less. I need to look better in this dress. Why can't I be like the other girls?"

Unbeknownst to her, Edward had a secret. He had the ability to hear the thoughts of those around him, and her self-deprecating thoughts echoed loudly in his mind. He frowned, concerned by the harshness of her internal dialogue.

Before (Y/N) could dwell further on her negative thoughts, Edward leaned in and spoke softly, "You know, you look really nice in that dress."

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was as if he had plucked her innermost thoughts from her mind. "Uh, thank you," she stammered, caught off guard by his compliment.

Edward smiled warmly, trying to put her at ease.

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time that day, she felt a glimmer of self-acceptance. Maybe Forks wouldn't be so bad after all. As she exchanged a shy smile with Edward, she couldn't help but wonder if this small town held the promise of acceptance and maybe even a bit of happiness. (Y/N) decided to skip lunch that day, as she often did. Her nagging thoughts about her appearance still lingered, convincing her that skipping meals was the path to perfection.

She watched her classmates chatting and enjoying their lunches, while she sat alone at an empty table, lost in her own thoughts.

Just as she was about to convince herself that she wasn't hungry, a sudden voice interrupted her reverie. "Hey there, mind if we join you?" It was Alice Cullen, the petite and energetic classmate of hers, known for her vibrant personality and impeccable fashion sense.

(Y/N) blinked in surprise but quickly managed a polite smile. "Oh, not at all. Please, have a seat."

Alice and her adoptive siblings, Edward and Jasper, settled in, their lunch trays laden with an assortment of delicious-smelling food. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a pang of hunger at the sight and scent of it all, but she held firm to her belief that she needed to be skinny.

Alice, ever perceptive, noticed that (Y/N) had nothing on her tray. "Not hungry?" she asked, her golden eyes filled with curiosity.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before replying, "I ate a big breakfast, so I'm good."

Edward, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up, his tone gentle. "Are you sure? You didn't grab much for lunch. Here, have half of my Caesar chicken wrap." He pushed the plate toward her, offering a generous slice.

(Y/N) hesitated again, torn between her desire to fit in and her fear of consuming too many calories. She politely declined, saying, "No, thank you. I'm really not hungry."

Edward persisted, a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on. It's just a little taste. I insist, especially since I didn't see you grab much for lunch."

Alice chimed in with a grin, "Lunch is the most important meal of the day, after all."

Edward rolled his eyes playfully. "That's breakfast dope.”

(Y/N) couldn't help but giggle at their playful bickering. Their warmth and kindness were breaking through the walls she had built around herself. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to enjoy a meal without feeling guilty. She took the offered half of the chicken wrap, her heart feeling a little lighter as she joined the Cullen family for lunch.

A few weeks had passed since (Y/N) first met the Cullen siblings, and while their presence had begun to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, old habits die hard. She still found herself skipping meals occasionally, even as Edward and his siblings extended their kindness by sharing their lunches with her.

One fateful day, as (Y/N) grappled with her inner demons at home, she succumbed to the overwhelming weight of her thoughts. The familiar feelings of self-doubt and self-loathing washed over her, and in a moment of despair, she resorted to self-harm. It was a cry for help, a physical manifestation of the pain she had carried for so long.

The episode landed her in the hospital, where she lay in a sterile, unfamiliar room. The hours passed in a blur until Edward appeared at her bedside, his expression filled with concern rather than judgment.

He gently took her hand and asked, "Why, (Y/N)? Why did you do this to yourself?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to find the words. "Ever since I was a child, my parents... they were always obsessed with my weight. I was a bit overweight when I hit the triple digits before I even turned ten. And I came close to 215 when I was thirteen. They forced me to work out, try every diet under the sun, and the starvation... it just became a part of my daily routine."

Edward's heart ached as he listened to her painful confession. He knew that her experiences had left deep scars, both physically and emotionally. "What you're doing to yourself isn't healthy, (Y/N)," he said softly. "You deserve better than this."

(Y/N) broke down into tears, the weight of her years of suffering finally overwhelming her. Edward didn't hesitate; he pulled her into a comforting embrace, offering her a safe haven in his arms.

"It's going to get better," he whispered soothingly. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore. You have me now."

Her sobs began to subside, and she looked up at Edward with watery eyes. His unwavering support and understanding were like a lifeline in the darkness she had been trapped in for so long.

"How?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Because," Edward replied, his golden eyes filled with sincerity, "we'll face this together. You're not alone, (Y/N). We'll heal your heart and body, one step at a time."

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight masterlist #twilight edward #twilight #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen imagines #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader

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hyperfixatedonthisnow · 10 months

Text

Bound by blue ribbon

*not my GIF

Requested by: Anonymous - hiiii! If ya are still taking request!! Then may I get one of the ribbon scene from Rule of Wolves (I think???? I’m not surrrre) but it’s fem!reader x Nikolai? And instead of in her hair, it’s around her neck like a choker??

Just IMAGINE it with the classic character A walks down the staircase looking absolutely STUNNING and character B is s p e e c h l e s s trope! -

Dearest anon, I’m not sure I can properly convey just how much I loved this request. Like, you don’t understand, I am OBSESSED with how good this idea is! So much so that I was worried I wouldn’t be able to write anything that did it justice, but I tried my best. Hope you like it 🙏

Disclaimer (because I’m not looking to get sued): Some lines/dialogue directly borrowed from RoW, with a few minor changes. Obviously, I do not own those words and don’t claim to - they are the property of Leigh Bardugo and all rights belong to her and/or Netflix. Fanfic is for fun only; I am not making any money from this in any way.

Word count: 6Kish

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Dual POV, idiots in love, fluff, the teeniest smidgen of angst if you squint, A little triumvirate cameo, more Genya than anyone - because someone needs to get these idiots together, soft!Nikolai, minimal plot, fem!reader, smut, oral sex (female receiving), P in V sex, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

The party to celebrate Nikolai’s saints day was going to be beyond anything Ravka had ever seen before. Lavish decorations were being put up, the palace kitchens were working on a complicated menu, and the best musicians had been hired to perform. Nikolai hadn’t wanted such a fuss, but the triumvirate had invited every eligible maiden in the country, and most of the neighbouring countries as well, insisting that it was the perfect occasion for the king to finally choose a bride. Which was exactly why you had decided not to attend.

Nikolai had been your best friend since childhood, and you had been in love with him for more than half that time. Over the years, as you had grown from a child into a young woman, you had hoped that maybe he might see you in a romantic light, but unfortunately that hadn’t happened. You didn’t hold it against him, in fact you treasured his friendship, and you wanted only the best for him. You just weren’t sure your heart could withstand watching him fall in love with someone else.

The day of the party, you kept to your room, feigning illness. Nothing too serious, just a headache that would prevent you from attending the party, so that Nikolai could meet the potential woman of his dreams without you having to witness it. Unfortunately, sitting alone in your room all day gave you endless time to think, and your mind was determined to linger on thoughts of Nikolai with some faceless princess. Before dinner, you decided to take a bath, hoping to distract yourself. When you returned to your bedchamber, you found Genya lounging on your bed, alongside a large box.

You stared at your friend, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself. “How did you get in here? And why are you here, shouldn’t you be at the party already?”

“Unimportant,” Genya said breezily, waving her hand as if brushing the question aside, “and yes, I should, but someone had to help you get ready.”

You opened your mouth to tell her she needn’t have bothered but she cut you off with a disapproving click of her tongue. “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me you’re ill, I know that’s a lie.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “but I’m still not going, even if I wanted to - which I don’t - I have nothing to wear.”

Genya gave you a sly smile, holding out the envelope she had hidden in her hand. It bore the royal seal, and was addressed to you, but it had already been opened.

“Have you been reading my private correspondence?” You questioned, irritation bleeding into your tone.

“Mmm,” she hummed, not sounding sorry in the slightest, “it seems the king has sent you a gift. How very thoughtful of him.”

You eyed her suspiciously as you pulled the note from the envelope. The message was short, just two lines, written in Nikolai’s familiar cursive.

~ I hope you’ll wear this tonight. Lantsov blue looks good on you. N ~

Your brow furrowed in confusion. That shade of blue was reserved exclusively for the royal family. The closest you ever came to wearing it was a baby blue silk ribbon that you used to tie your hair back every day. A ribbon you had stolen from Nikolai himself, many months ago. He had been using the blue silk to tie his invention blueprints, keeping the rolls of parchment together and relatively organised when he wasn’t using them. On that afternoon, you had been wearing your hair down, but it was hot in his workshop, so you had pulled your hair back into a braid, snatching up the ribbon to secure it. You had meant to give it back, eventually, but then you had forgotten, and soon it had become a part of your daily wardrobe. You hadn’t even realised he had noticed it.

Genya opened the box to reveal a beautiful gown of pale blue silk, overlayed with a layer of tulle, embroidered in a galaxy of sparkling silver stars. You moved closer, lifting it from the box to finger the delicate fabric.

“See, problem solved.” She announced smugly.

“I can’t wear the king’s colour,” you protested.

“Clearly, he wants you to,” she argued, “would you really deny him?”

You gave her a withering look, “You know full well that I would never deny him anything,” you grumbled, “but people will talk.

“So? Let them,” she shrugged.

You bit your lip, deliberating. On the one hand, the thought of Nikolai buying a dress specially for you to wear on his birthday made your stomach flip pleasantly, but on the other hand, you had already decided not to go to the party and a pretty dress wasn’t going to change your mind. But surely it couldn’t hurt to just try it on … right?

“Well, you have to try it on, at the very least,” Genya insisted, as if she had read your mind, “a dress this beautiful deserves to be worn.”

“Alright,” you conceded, “but just for a moment.”

Genya smiled widely, clapping her hands together with glee.

The second you stepped into the dress, soft silk slipping over your skin, you knew you had made a mistake. Genya laced the corset up with practiced ease and when she was done, she stepped back to admire you. She gasped as she took in the full effect of you in the dress, and as you turned to look at yourself in the mirror you could see why. It fit you like a glove. The colour complemented your skin perfectly and the fabric clung to you in all the right places, accentuating your waist and the curve of your hips. The sweetheart neckline was so low as to almost be scandalous, putting your breasts on full display. You wondered what Nikolai had been thinking when he picked it out. If he had picked it out. Either way, now that you had seen it on, you knew you had no choice but to go to the party. A dress like this demanded to be seen. Genya fixed your hair, sweeping it into an elegant updo and leaving a few curls to fall loose around your face. You kept your jewelry light, diamond earrings and bracelet to match the stars on your dress, but none of the necklaces you tried were quite right. You didn’t want anything that would draw focus from the gown. Genya suggested your hair ribbon, and when you fastened the light blue silk around your throat as a choker, she helped you to tie it into a simple bow at the back.

“Perfect,” she declared, lips curving into a smile, and as you looked yourself over in the mirror you thought she might just be right. The two of you walked together to the ballroom, but when you got there, she dropped you off in the queue of nobles waiting to be announced, insisting you should make a grand entrance. She slipped away before you could argue, muttering something about how she couldn’t leave David unattended any longer, lest he use the opportunity to retreat to his workshop.

You waited at the top of the staircase, just out of sight, as your name was announced. Your heart pounded as you made your way down the stairs. It felt as though everyone’s eyes were on you, but then you saw Nikolai, standing at the foot of the stairs as if waiting for you, and suddenly everyone else melted away. It was just you, and him, and his eyes on yours like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

-------------------------------------------------------

Nikolai was having a dismal evening. So far, he had suffered through what felt like a lifetime of conversations, the longest of which was with the Kerch ambassador, a pompous peacock of a man with an impressively large moustache and unfortunately low IQ, followed by a highly uncomfortable discussion about politics with both the Shu and Fjerdan delegates. To top it off, every time he managed to escape, Zoya would appear with a new princess for him to meet, each one less suited than the last, and he would be forced to spend several painful minutes listening to them talk about their own virtues, of which there were many, apparently.

It seemed like everywhere he turned was some ambassador offering him thinly veiled threats disguised as polite conversation, or one of his ministers trying to push their own agenda whilst they had him alone, or worst of all, another pretty, but vapid, young lady, waiting to be thrust upon him as a potential bride. In truth, he wasn’t interested in any of it, because all he found himself thinking about was you.

As the minutes passed, he started to worry that you wouldn’t come, that you would leave him to deal with the vultures all on his own. And more than that, he worried that he had overstepped with his gift. He had been full of confidence when he helped to design it, chosen every detail to compliment you perfectly, but now he was second guessing himself. Would you like the gown? Would you understand his meaning, about you looking good in blue? Would you return his feelings? He wasn’t sure.

He was contemplating this - whilst only half listening to one of his ministers drone on about the dangers of allowing farmers to have control over their own crops, when Genya suddenly appeared at his side. She politely excused them both from the conversation, pointedly ignoring the minister’s indignation at being interrupted, and looped her arm through Nikolai’s, pulling him away. She led him quickly across the room to stand near the bottom of the stairs.

“Stay right here.” She instructed him sternly, and Nikolai could only blink at her, perplexed, before she was gone, melting back into the crowd without even giving him a chance to respond.

He felt a prickle of annoyance at being ordered around, honestly, wasn’t he the king? He considered walking away just purely on principle, no matter how childish that might be, but then he heard your name being announced, and he wondered if Genya had known. He looked up, his heart hammering in his chest, and when you walked out onto the staircase, he thought it might have stopped beating altogether. You were wearing the gown he had picked out, your hair curled and styled perfectly, and around your throat, that scrap of pale blue silk that haunted his dreams. Usually, you wore it in your hair, and it was eminently practical, but it had the unfortunate effect of making him want to untie it. Seeing it around your throat made that idea all the more appealing. You were stunning. He realised his imagination had not done you justice, could not even come close. The sight of you quite literally took his breath away.

He reached out almost automatically as you got near enough, offering you his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you down the last few steps.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Hi,” you breathed once you were standing face to face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but Nikolai just stared at you, slack-jawed, for what felt like an eternity. You began to fidget, feeling self-conscious.

“Do I look ok?” You asked, smoothing down your dress nervously.

He shook his head. “‘Ok’ would be a gross understatement,” he said, “You are a vision.”

Your face lit up in a smile, pleased at the compliment, and you could feel the warmth of a blush spreading across your cheeks. Nikolai dropped your hand, and you almost mourned the loss, but then he pressed his hand to the small of your back instead, and all you could focus on was that intimate point of contact as he led you away from the stairs and further into the room.

“I was beginning to think you had abandoned me,” Nikolai said, his mouth tipping up into a small smile.

“I wasn’t sure I’d come,” you found yourself admitting quietly, “but then someone sent me this beautiful gown, and I changed my mind.”

“You like it?”

“I do,” you assured him, “Thank you. It’s a very generous gift, although it’s your birthday, shouldn’t I be the one giving you a gift?”

“You deserve it,” he said, voice low in your ear, “and seeing you in this dress is a gift for me.”

You were sure you were blushing again. Was he flirting with you? Surely not, that had to be wishful thinking on your part.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked, changing the subject lest you embarrass yourself.

“Yes,” he murmured as he took your hand again, leading you out onto the floor.

He held you close as you moved together through the steps of the dance, effortlessly in sync. You focused completely on him, enjoying the intimate feeling of being pressed against him, his eyes on yours and his hands warm on your body. Being so close to him was the sweetest kind of torture, and you quickly began to feel overheated, as your mind inevitably drifted to all the other ways you could enjoy being close to him, of his hands in much more intimate places. You looked around, trying to clear your head, and you realised that it hadn’t been just your imagination, people were staring, but you found that you didn’t care at all. As your eyes met his again, you were surprised to see that same feeling of desire reflected back at you. Maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking after all.

When the dance ended, he asked if you wanted to get some air, and you agreed, following him across the room and out into the hallway.

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Nikolai pulled you into an alcove, just off the main hallway. It was quieter here, with less chance of being seen or overheard.

“Genya and Zoya won’t be happy when they realize you’ve ditched your own party,” you told him, “They’re determined to find you a wife tonight.”

“I don’t care,” he said honestly, “and I’m not interested in any of those girls.”

“You must marry, Kolya. You can’t put it off forever,” you insisted, even though it pained you to say it. “You’ll have to choose someone eventually.”

“You’re the only one I would choose.” He confessed. The words were out before he thought better of them, and there was no way to pull them back.

You studied him carefully, your heart racing. “As your friend?” You asked, offering him a chance to right the ship, to take you back to familiar waters.

He could have lied, could have given you a hundred different easy replies. Instead, he said, “As my queen.”

“Because I’m dependable,” you said cautiously, tentatively, “or because I know all of your secrets?”

"I do trust you more than myself sometimes- and I think very highly of myself." He said, and you huffed a laugh, convinced that any moment now he would take it all back.

“But I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time."

You wanted to tell him that you wanted him too, that he was the only man you had ever wanted, or ever would want, but it wasn’t that simple. He was your best friend, and he was also your king, and you had to be practical. “As your friend, I should tell you that would be a terrible decision. You should make a political choice, take some foreign princess as your bride. Someone who was born to be a queen.”

He met your eyes, voice steady and earnest when he said, "As your king, I should tell you that no one could dissuade me. No prince and no power could make me stop wanting you."

Nikolai felt drunk. You were going to laugh at him. You would knock him senseless and tell him he had no right. But he couldn't seem to stop.

"I would give you a crown if I could," he said. "I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, as my friend, as my queen, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn." He reached out, fingers brushing over the blue silk ribbon tied around your throat. "And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon on our wedding day."

You should say no, you should tell him he was making a mistake, but you couldn’t. You wanted him too, and not just tonight, but forever. You wanted a future with him, and if you closed your eyes, you could see it, as clear as day. Standing at an altar set before the Saints as a priest named you man and wife. Mornings spent together, eating breakfast and sipping coffee while you discussed the day ahead, and nights spent tangled together in his sheets, sweaty and sated. Soft touches and words of affirmation whispered in the early morning light. Two - or maybe three - golden-haired children, with your eyes and his smile, running about the palace, happy and loved, and constantly getting into mischief. A million inside jokes, and shared looks, and fights about nothing, easily forgiven. A lifetime of moments, big and small, side by side with him. You wanted it all.

“Yes,” you said simply, meeting his gaze.

“Yes?” He repeated, as if he didn’t dare to believe it.

He cupped his hand to your cheek, his palm warm against your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly across your cheekbone, and when your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, his eyes followed the movement. You wanted him to kiss you, so badly that you ached with the need of it. You tilted your head up slightly, lips parted in invitation.

He dipped his head, then paused, lips hovering just inches from yours as he searched your eyes, waiting for permission. The heat of his gaze was like flames across your skin. You leaned into him, pressing a hand to his chest and you could feel his heart racing beneath your palm. “Yes,” you said again, barely above a whisper, and he bent his head forward, finally, touching his lips to yours. His kiss was soft and sweet, just the barest brush of his lips over yours, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You made a needy sound, chasing his lips when he moved away, and his mouth curved into a smile.

He pressed you back against the wall, his hands settling on your hips and then his mouth was on yours once more, and this time there was nothing tentative about it. His tongue met yours hungrily, desperately, swallowing your sounds of pleasure. You grabbed a handful of his shirt, crushing the fabric beneath your fingers as you hauled him closer, but it still wasn’t close enough. You reached down with your free hand, tugging your skirts up so that you could curve your leg up around him and he groaned low in his throat, his hand immediately dropping from your waist to the bare skin of your thigh.

He pushed his hips forward, and you could feel the proof of his arousal, pressing against you intimately. You gasped, tipping your head back against the wall. He ducked his head, his tongue darting out to taste the smooth skin of your exposed throat, and he nipped lightly at your pulse point before trailing kisses down to the dip of your shoulder and along your collarbone.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, teeth just barely grazing your skin, and your eyebrows knitted in confusion, wasn’t he doing that already?

“I want to taste you,” he said, his fingers skating up and over your inner thigh to press at you lightly over the lace of your underwear. Oh. The thought of having his mouth on you, there, sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

“Yes,” you murmured after just a brief hesitation, and his smile turned wicked as he sank to his knees in front of you.

You hiked your dress higher, bunching the fabric above your hips so that you could watch him as he dragged your underwear slowly down your thighs and helped you step out of them. He stuffed the scrap of lace into his pocket, before he ran his hand up your calf, bending your knee and then lifting your leg to rest it over his shoulder. He kissed a path from your knee up your inner thigh towards your centre and then he stopped, warm breath ghosting over you and eyes fixed on your core, until you began to squirm. He stilled you with a firm hand on your hip.

“Nikolai,” you started, but you were robbed of the power of speech when he leaned in, his face disappearing between your thighs.

--------------------------------------------------------

He licked a broad stripe across you with the flat of his tongue and you gasped, your hand shooting down to fist in his hair. He licked into you slowly, nose bumping your clit, until you were writhing and panting above him. His fingers worked you over, drawing lazy circles over your clit as he explored every inch of you with his lips and tongue. He dipped two fingers inside you, moving them in and out, crooking them slightly to search for that spot that would have you seeing stars and he knew he had found it when you moaned, clenching around him.

Nikolai had always enjoyed this, drawing pleasure from his partner with his mouth and hands, and he prided himself on being good at it, but he had never found it such a turn on before. His pants were uncomfortably tight, and he thought he could probably come untouched, just from the taste of you and the sounds you made. He turned his head for a moment to draw a ragged breath, and he smiled against your inner thigh when you whined impatiently, using your grip on his hair to drag him back where you wanted him.

He went easily, happy to oblige you, and this time he closed his lips around your clit, sucking it against his tongue. You cried out, your hand tightening in his hair hard enough to make his scalp prickle. He kept the pressure of his mouth gentle but non-stop, as your thighs began to shake, your hips jerking against his face. He couldn’t hold back his moan as he felt your body shuddering, his mouth flooded with wetness when you found your release. He worked you through it, lapping at you gently until finally, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He shifted from his knees back to his feet, and you reached for him as he stood, wanting to keep him close. His hair was sticking up at all angles, mussed by your hands, his cheeks flushed, and his lips tilted in a lopsided smirk. He looked utterly debauched in the best possible way. You swiped your thumb across his bottom lip before you leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and you were surprised to find that it wasn’t unpleasant.

You reached a hand down between your bodies, to cup him over his pants and he groaned, pushing himself into your palm. A door opened somewhere, the sounds of the party drifting out into the hallway, and you froze, the illusion of privacy shattered.

The noise from further down the hallway brought Nikolai back to his senses so suddenly, he felt like he’d been doused in ice water. Had he completely lost his mind? Your first time together shouldn’t be like this, frantic and dirty, pushed up against a wall in a public place, where anyone could discover the two of you at any moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, “I got carried away, I shouldn’t have … this wasn’t…”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to find the right words. You deserved better from him. You deserved a white veil, and matching rings, and a promise made at an alter set before the Saints. He wanted to give you all of that, and he would, but not tonight. Tonight, he could at least give you a soft bed, and gentle hands, declarations of love whispered in the dark. Romance, because you deserved that if nothing else.

He pulled back, letting you drop your skirts down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You felt your face fall before you could stop it.

“Oh,” was all the response you could muster, the sting of disappointment sharp, and so bitter you could almost taste it. You closed your eyes, willing away the tears that threatened to form. Was he saying this was a mistake? Had he changed his mind? Had you done something wrong?

“I only meant, we should go somewhere more private,” he said, watching you carefully.

“Oh,” you said again, relief flooding through you.

“Unless… if you’d rather return to the party, that’s fine too.” He clarified.

“I don’t,” you said quickly, and you almost blushed at how eager you sounded.

“No?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at you.

You gave him a smile that you hoped was sultry. “No. Take me to bed,” you purred, and you knew you’d hit the mark when his eyes darkened in response.

He took your hand, guiding you through the palace hallways until you reached his rooms. He opened the door for you, ever the gentleman, allowing you to enter first, and then he followed you inside, locking the door swiftly behind him. There would be no more interruptions tonight, not if he could help it.

--------------------------------------------------------

You came to a stop by the foot of the bed, waiting for him to join you. He crossed the room in just a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms, and then his mouth was on yours again, hot and demanding. You let your hands roam, over his shoulders and into his hair, before the desperate need to feel his bare skin against yours took over, and you set to work on removing his clothes.

Your nimble fingers made light work of the knot in his cravat, pulling it loose and free of his collar in just a few short movements, and you quickly moved on to his shirt, opening the first few buttons. He pulled back for just enough time to yank the shirt off over his head, and then he was back to kissing you like his life depended on it. When you moved to unbutton his pants, your knuckles inadvertently brushing up against his hardness, he groaned low in his throat and pulled away again, this time to spin you around so that he could unlace your corset and free you from your dress.

He placed kisses across your shoulder, and down the length of your spine as it was revealed to him and once you were completely nude before him, he wrapped an arm around your waist to tug you back against him, his clothed arousal against your bare ass. You brought your hands up to your throat to untie your ribbon, but he stopped you. “Allow me, he murmured, voice low and rough in your ear. He hooked a finger into the bow at the back of your neck, tugging gently until it unravelled, soft silk sliding over your skin, and then he curled it up to put into his pocket, joining your underwear from earlier.

He cupped your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened into a peak, while his other hand travelled down the side of your ribs and across your lower abdomen to your core. You moaned as his fingers found their mark, dipping inside you to gather the wetness there before rubbing gentle circles over your clit. Only once you were panting, your head falling back against his shoulder, and your hips moving in small circles along with his hand, did he nudge you in the direction of the bed. You took the hint, though you were loath to give up the delicious friction of his talented fingers. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed first, watching with bated breath while he took off the last of his own clothes.

Once he was undressed, you scooted backwards onto the bed, so that you were positioned comfortably on the pillows, and he climbed over you, covering the length of your body with his. You gasped as you felt his erection pressing against you, almost, but not quite, in the right place. He pinned one of your hands to the bed beside your head, fingers twining with yours as he dipped his head to kiss you, licking into your mouth until you were both breathless. You bent your leg up around his hip, opening yourself up for him instinctively and he kept his eyes on yours as he flexed his hips, entering you at an agonizingly slow pace. You were warm, and wet, and perfect, and you dug your heel into the back of his thigh, urging him deeper. He groaned, his eyes slipping closed and his hand squeezing yours tightly.

Once he was fully seated inside you, he had to stop. He let his head drop to your shoulder and he held completely still, desperately fighting to get a grip on his self-control. Late at night when he lay alone in the dark, his wildest fantasies playing out behind his eyelids, it was your face he saw and your name on his lips when he came. He had dreamed of having you so many times, in a thousand different ways, but nothing could compare to the reality. It was as if he was suddenly a boy of sixteen again, green and eager, ready to spill himself at the slightest hint of friction. You shifted beneath him, wriggling impatiently and only once he was sure he would not embarrass himself, did he raise his head to look at you.

“Sorry,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up into an amused little smirk, “did you need something?”

You just barely resisted the urge to smack him, and instead clenched your inner muscles around him, watching with a smug sense of satisfaction as his eyelids fluttered, the smirk dropping from his face.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes dark with arousal as they met yours, but he still didn’t move.

“Please,” you begged, and you would have been embarrassed by how needy you sounded if not for the way that his hips bucked in response.

He dipped his head, slanting his mouth over yours as he withdrew slowly, almost completely, only to fill you again with a sharp thrust of his hips. His hand was warm in yours, palms pressed together, and fingers intertwined, the connection anchoring you as he started to move in earnest, settling into a perfect, maddening rhythm that was somehow altogether too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

The muscles in his biceps were straining with the effort of holding himself up and you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, pulling him down on to you until his chest was flush with yours. He nuzzled at your throat, as he maintained his languid pace, drawing out your mutual pleasure for as long as he possibly could, and you were torn between the desperate need to climax, and the desire to stay entwined with him like this forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he felt the beginnings of his own climax, Nikolai reluctantly released your hand so that he could slip his between your bodies to thumb at your clit. Within moments, he felt you tightening around him, your orgasm beginning to ripple through you, and he kept the movement of his hips slow and steady, drawing it out until you were writhing beneath him. He removed his hand as the last tremors ran through your body, and he lifted his head, mouth finding yours, as he finally allowed himself release. He sheathed himself fully inside you, as he shuddered and came.

He collapsed onto you, pressing you into the mattress, and you stroked your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close, as you both struggled to catch your breath. Your bodies were tangled together, completely enveloped by each other, and neither of you wanted to move.

“I love you,” he murmured after a moment, turning his head so that he could press a kiss to your temple.

“I love you too,” you assured him, holding him tighter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning, you had woken early and taken the opportunity to study Nikolai in the light of the sunrise, his face relaxed and boyish in sleep, and when he woke, he had nudged you onto your back and made love to you again. That had been followed by a bath, in which you both ended up dirtier than you had been upon getting in, and a second one - strictly for getting clean, and one horrifyingly awkward conversation with your maid, during which the girl giggled and blushed furiously, as you begged her to bring you something to wear. All of this meant that it was late, long past noon, when the pair of you finally emerged from his room.

You walked hand in hand to the council room, where the triumvirate were already assembled. Genya and Zoya were standing over the table, heads bent as they looked over a map, talking quietly together. David sat across from them, scribbling away, fingers stained with ink. Genya lifted her head as you entered, smiling knowingly at you.

Nikolai cleared his throat. “I… well, we, have something important to tell you all,” he announced. “We’re getting married.” Subtle as ever.

“Thank the Saints,” Zoya muttered, without even looking up, “I thought I’d be old and grey before you two ever got your act together.”

“I told you it would work!” Genya said gleefully.

You and Nikolai shared a confused look. “What worked?” You asked.

“The party,” Zoya explained, speaking very slowly, as if she were talking to a pair of particularly dim children, “the one we planned, to push you both into admitting you’re in love with each other, obviously.”

You both just stared at her.

“Someone had to do it,” she continued with a shrug, “Saints knows neither of you were going to do it on your own.”

“I would have done it without your intervention,” Nikolai said defensively, “eventually.”

“Yes, of course you would,” Genya said mildly, her tone just on the edge of patronising.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut in frustration. “So, just to be clear - you conceived an elaborate plot, which involved throwing an expensive party with hundreds of guests, and making me suffer through hours of mind-numbing conversation with prospective “brides”, all so that you could manipulate us into confessing our feelings for each other?”

“I wouldn’t say manipulate,” Genya objected, “more like give you a loving shove in the right direction.”

“A brilliant plan, really,” David piped up, “and, clearly, effective.”

Genya smiled fondly at him. “Thank you, dear.”

And suddenly it all made sense, the way Genya had come to insist you go to the party, the way she had pushed you to wear the dress even though it was Lantsov blue, the fact that she had made you wait to be announced, and that Nikolai had mysteriously been waiting for you the moment you entered the room. The mysterious coincidence that all the young ladies Zoya had introduced to him were almost comically unsuitable. They had engineered it all.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread over your face. Perhaps you should have been upset by the idea that they had manipulated you both, but honestly you weren’t. You shared another look with Nikolai. He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now too, and you knew he shared your feelings on the matter. This whole charade might have been ridiculous, but how could you hold it against them, when it had resulted in the happiest night of your lives.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #fem!reader #shadow and bone #grishaverse #zoya is my queen but not in this fic #my writing #i wrote this #request #patrick gibson

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bonbon-bonny · 3 months

Text

I don't usually write a whole lot but I wanted to talk about this for a moment

Ahem. *flips through notes*

So I loooove Sailor Moon. Specifically the 90s version. It was my favorite show growing up. My home life was difficult and to see someone like Usagi with a perfect family, a perfect boyfriend etc. getting to live her best life despite the fact she herself wasn't perfect was too easy to become a bit obsessive over ^_^;

well, let's just say I wanted to be Usagi just a bit too much because my world, my family (Side note: I looove my family! They did the best they could to take care of me growing up, but we had to deal with an unusual circumstance that made it hard for all of us), heck just even being myself didn't feel good enough and frankly it left me having to confront a lot of issues just to be okay with who I am now.

And of course ,naturally, I looooved Tuxedo Kamen XD. On the outside to me, he seemed perfect; a knight in shining armor.

But I always kept running into a particular conversation which is "why do you like him so much tho? He seems like a jerk. He seems so different from her. He never shows her affection. She'd be better off with someone like Seiya who's more on her level. He's useless. He's bad for trying to help her because she's a girl boss and doesn't need to be rescued." Like, seriously the amount of criticism I've heard towards this character is wild and he literally gets attacked no matter what he does.

And you know I get it. If you just look at it from a surface level it's easy to maybe get that impression of him but after one particular conversation I was having with a friend of mine about it I stopped and asked myself why. Why does she like him? why does he like her? how can two people who outwardly look so different from each other ever be in a healthy relationship? what could the two of them possibly have in common?

So I did what I do best and I watched the show I grew up with carefully. I observed him. I watched the things he said and did. And in the end I reached several conclusions.

Mamoru isn't perfect, at least in the beginning, but he's always trying to do his best to be. With almost anyone else in the show he's usually calm, collected and somewhat reserved. The only person besides Motoki he seems to act out a bit with if you can call it that IS Usagi and half of the time it's not even that he's actually being mean.

[IF you watch the Japanese version with subtitles, because in the English dub? Ooph! they changed so much of his dialogue and gave him such a smirky voice it's hard to listen to him without wanting to punch him in the face imo.]

It's that the way she perceives him is off. Also, sometimes it's not even HIM that starts the arguments.

Sometimes SHE'S the one who starts their spats and he snaps back at her. Sometimes she hits him with shoes and papers and doesn't seem to care.

One episode that comes to mind is the Dreamland episode where the toy train stops and she rams into him. All he did was look at her and say hi and immediately she got defensive and started making fun of him.

Making fun of an orphan sitting on a toy train who most likely was just trying to do something fun that he never got to because he didn't HAVE a family to take him as a kid.

Seriously. If you were to be in his place, going through this world, it's rather scary, stressful, terrifying, and uncertain.

He didn't get a magical talking cat to walk him through his powers. Instead he got seizures and psychic visions, and a past life version of himself that took over his body without consent until he finally got the rainbow crystal and understood what was happening around him.

He gets amnesia not once but twice, kidnapped several times, and gets trapped in his own mind twice ala brainwashing by beryl and Nehelenia and by stars I wouldn't be surprised if half of the reason he went to study abroad instead of staying with Usagi is because he was afraid if he did he'd only continue to be a burden for her, because the man hardly has any dialogue and seems almost catatonic.

Also let's be real here. As amazing as it was for him to meet and talk with his future self it probably scared him. The responsibility of literally being King of the world, of making decisions that could impact the lives of everyone in tremendous ways. Of being the kind of partner and provider he thinks Usagi deserves or being a good father for Chibi-Usa when he didn't get to have parents to show him what those things looked like.

He didn't get a loving family to support him or tell him that they loved him, he was an orphan who probably hoped someone would eventually rescue him but no one ever did.

He probably feels in his heart that he doesn't deserve to be loved by anyone, and even if someone were to pursue him romantically he probably couldn't reciprocate in any meaningful way because he's most likely too closed off emotionally to be in a healthy relationship with anyone.

Heck the guy only for the most part has only two best friends. Motoki and Saori and frankly I'd hardly even call Saori a best friend since she literally just shows up in an episode in Super S as "Romantic competition" for Usagi and then just ups and vanishes and is never mentioned ever ever again.

So how does someone like him see Usagi and wind up constantly sacrificing his life over and over again for her?

Three words:

She. Sees. Him.

Once she starts to look at him a bit differently instead of seeing him as some tall guy running around with his stupid green jacket with his prickly personality, once she realizes that it was him trying to rescue her when she was so close to the brink of death on occasions and getting injured in the process, once he opens up to her about his struggles she sees him. Not just because he's a hero, but because even if it's hard for him he still tries to help her. A lot of times he even gives her really sound advice that she winds up listening to even if at the time he tells her she doesn't seem to understand him and takes it the wrong way.

He probably also deep down worries that he truly doesn't deserve someone like her.

Even if we don't always see it from the outside he adores Usagi because she sees him for who he is and doesn't ask him to be more outgoing or different.

Usagi adores him because he doesn't ask her to be anything other than who she really is.

Both of them accept the other as they truly are inside. THAT is true love.

You don't really get the chance to see what their relationship looks like from the outside. But he smiles a lot when he's with her which is certainly not something he really ever did with Rei or anyone else from what I could tell. And I bet when he does take her out on dates he's embarrassed and flustered and stumbles but he also probably takes off his mask and tries to make her happy and have a good time.

Also I'd like to add some notes on King Endymion and the violet. Why so much violet? Like....an overwhelming amount of violet XD I never understood why when I was younger but as I've grown up I've spent some time delving into subjects such as Psychology, Spirituality, and Philosophy.

Ladies and gentlemen, Violet is the color of the crown chakra.

https://www.chakras.info/crown-chakra/

Crown chakras deal with the mental and the spiritual. They are a gateway to enlightenment and in my opinion perhaps one could even say that the journey of mental health and enlightenment are two sides of the same coin.

So I'd like to think that for as much as Mamoru might struggle with his mental health, he also walked the path towards true enlightenment. Such a man truly should be King of the World and is more than deserving of being Usagi's partner.

And I'd die for a relationship with a man who is brave enough to confront the things which makes him suffer because I'd know that he'd have the clarity of mind to be a good partner, to treat me with kindness and compassion and show me the kind of love I've always dreamed of having, and that's something only someone who has love for themselves and others could ever possibly be able to give. He doesn't need to be perfect, because perfection is unattainable. He just needs to be brave enough to try even if it makes him deeply uncomfortable at times.

So,

To the men who truly and deeply identify with Mamoru, know I'd marry you in a heartbeat if you asked. That if you showered me in chocolate and flowers I'd do the exact same thing for you because you deserve it. Anyone who is brave enough to do the work necessary to heal and grow, to have kindness and compassion for others, to show me that even if I'm not perfect that it's still okay to be myself around you deserves every happiness in the world.

Not everyone is brave enough to do such a thing and I've come to a point in my life where I'm not interested in what someone can give me externally as much as I am in the kind of person they choose to be and what their values are.

Maybe some people might look at someone like Mamoru and judge him, but Usagi most certainly never would once she got to know him; and considering I've always wanted to be her I'll die on this hill defending him. Out of everyone, Usagi WOULD defend him from the judgement, from the criticism, of the need to be perfect and wear masks, or be something other than what he truly is on the inside.

Mamoru is more than just a knight in shining armor,

He's beautiful imperfection; and I'd choose that over anything else any day.

@heavyheartedprinceofearth

#sailor moon #heavyheartedprinceofearth #tuxedo kamen #mamoru chiba #usagi tsukino #prettyguardiansailormoon #usagi x mamoru #mamoru x usagi #tuxedo mask

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soothinglee · 2 months

Text

now it’s different; i am the one inlove...

jeongin x reader | 3.3k✔︎ | mainly his point of view.

my notes⎯ whew. this is the longest fic i've ever posted and i can't lie and say it wasn't a pain. originally i got this idea from listening to "morning dew" like 100 times and thought it would be perfect to write something for i.n.

warnings⎯ somewhat angsty, poor writing, some cursing, doubts, and humorous dialogue (so sorry if you dont find me funny).

genre⎯ eventual friends to lover, angst.

songs⎯ morning dew; xavier wulf | a new kind of love; frou frou

⎯catalog for skz✰ | requests r open

12.03.23 | 4:04 p.m;

it had been ten minutes since you left jeongins’ side to aid seungmin in teasing changbin. the frigid weather turning your breaths to smoky clouds as you laugh at one another.

jeongin rests in his spot on the park bench, if you ask, he’ll simply say he cannot join in on the fun due to the stiffness in his joints, and not the fact that an unwavering feeling of jealousy is creeping through his bones like wildfire.

he can’t help but narrow his eyes at the skinship you give felix, reaching up to brush the snowflakes out of his bangs, threading your fingers in his when you spot a squirrel resting in a tree; dragging him towards the spot before the rodent runs off.

jeongin hates physical touch with a burning passion. there would never not be a time where he didn’t push one of his hyungs off of him. he didn’t like when bangchan would suprise back hug him, or when hyunjin would randomly sit in his lap and pester him.

yet when he looks at the way you interact with the other members, he cant help but wonder what it would feel like with his hands in yours. running around the white colored park, throwing snow at eachothers faces, trying not to slip on the ice while playing tag with everyone else.

you weren't shy to affection, jeongin knew that for a fact. so there wasn't any real reason for him to be scared to go up to you and initiate a hug or a hand hold. but the overwhelming feeling he's been trying to hide for the last two years is holding him back.

yang jeongin has the biggest crush on you. he just wont admit it.

all the other members can see it clear as day, they don't hesitate to tease him about it when you aren't around; sometimes they do it infront of you but they are somewhat discreet about it.

"you're staring again." a muffle voice comments beside him. jeongin flinches at the sudden sound, he had been sitting by himself silently for a little longer than he had expected. "keep it up and she'll think you're a creep."

jeongin raises up his fist towards hyunjins face to which the man backs away quickly, "shut it." he threatens, he turns his attention back towards you, watching you get a piggyback ride through the snow by bangchan. he holds back a scoff.

hyunjin shrugs, readjusting his scarf around his face. the tip of his nose peeks through the fabric, it's color matches his ears; dusted a cherry red, "i'm not lying. even just watching you watch her is making me uncomfortable," he shivers to further his point, jeongin lightly shoves him. "i don't know why you wont just tell her."

jeongin feels his blood run cold contrast to the heat in his cheeks. he gives a quick glance towards hyunjin who watches him expectantly. "i don't know what you're talking about." he mumbles, adjusting his body on the wooden bench. he's been sitting for so long that his butt is growing numb.

"i.n-ah!"

"what?" he says, "i don't have any feelings for her, i'm only just looking. it's not illegal or did the laws suddenly change?"

jeongin swivels his head exasperatedly to look at hyunjin only to find him staring back with a wide grin. jeongin raises an eyebrow.

after a moment of staring, hyunjin lightly murmurs, "i never said anything about having a crush on her." his grin widens.

in that moment panic flushes through jeongins body and he's quick to clamp a hand over hyunjins mouth. "shut up. shut up dude."

"YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON Y/N." hyunjins voice comes out muffled underneath jeongins glove but he can still hear it very clearly. he just hopes no one else (more specifically you) hears it aswell.

"you liar, i do not! hyung, please stop screaming, i swear-!"

"you guys alright?" a third voice pipes up. both of them turn and see you standing a couple inches away, bare hands shoved in pockets looking like a swaddled marshmallow. you were covered head to toe in snow, proof of the snowball fight you had with felix lingered on your clothing. the apples of your cheeks moved with every sniff you took and jeongin couldn't help but mentally compare you to a bunny.

he immediately released hyunjin, who stayed in his backed up postion grinning at him. "yeah." he cringes at the way his voice cracked out of nerves, or the way his palms started to sweat despite the cold.

"are you sure?" you question, looking at hyunjin then back at him, "i thought i heard a scream."

"no-"

"-you did." hyunjin interjects, slapping a hand on jeongins back. his body jostles forward at the contact. "but it was nothing, right i.n? just some light teasing."

jeongin grunts through his teeth, "yeah. harmless."

you nod, unsure that it's the whole truth, "okay..." you point behind you, gesturing over towards the disfigured snow man whose bottom half lay smaller than its top, it's eyes on opposite sides of its face. "well if you're sure...i'll just go back."

before you can fully turn around, two heavy hands place itself on your shoulders to halt your movements, "no, you should stay and take a break. you've been moving around a lot. i'll finish your snowman with changbin."

you look at hyunjin, eyebrows scrunched together, "are you sure? you don't need to do that, we're almost finished anyway-."

hyunjin looks towards the figure and back towards you, "-no the hell you aren't. don't worry," he reassures, taking a deep breath. you can almost see the captains hat form on his head. "leave it to the artist."

he gives you a light push towards the empty spot next to jeongin, his butt print out lined in the snow on the seat. he turns around and calls out to changbin, "yah! it looks like shit! let me take over!"

"eh? you don't know jack about making a snowman!"

"i know more than you do, genius!" his voice fades away as his stumbles down the hill and towards a grumpy changbin.

you can't help but let out a giggle at the twos bickering. "something is wrong with them."

jeongin tries to nod in agreement but finds himself frozen.

at the lack of a response you turn towards him and see him tense in his spot, "are you okay?" concern drips from your voice as you lean towards him.

he hums quietly, giving you a brief glance and then returning his attention to hyunjin kicking over the snowman. "'m good."

you only nod and face forward.

a couple minutes go by as nothing else is exchanged. your hands begin to freeze due to the lack of heat to your fingers. you pull them out to send a few frosty puffs of air to at least try to heat them up but it doesn't work; you can practically see the icicles grow from your nails.

"it's so cold." you comment, rubbing your hands together.

jeongin perks up at your voice instantly, looking over at the way your shoulders shiver and the weak attempt at warming yourself up. before he even realizes it, he's pulling off his own mittens. "where are your gloves?" he questions, no hints of mockery in his croaky voice.

"gave them to han." you comment, smiling softly, "lee know took his when they were fighting and he wouldn't stop whining about how he was going to have to get his fingers amputated, so i gave him mines."

jeongin can't help the smile making its way to his face at your selflessness. you were always like that, worrying about others before yourself. it was admirable but he wishes you didn't do it as much.

"what about your hands?" he questions, holding out his own pair to you. you kindly reject his offer, pushing away his hands as he tries to force them onto yours.

"what about them?" you retort, "i was keeping them busy, with all the movement it gave me enough warmth."

he can't help but roll his eyes. he gives one last attempt at taking your hands and lets out a little cheer when you relent and give them up. jeongin feels his eyes widen as he looks at the purple color nipping at your fingers, sure you'll get frostbite later. he quickly slides on the wool gloves (much faster than he would've liked- it would've been nice to hold your hands a little longer) and watches satisfied when you lean back on the bench with a relaxed sigh.

with your eyes closed, basking in the new warmth, the feeling of the snowflakes hit the bridge of your nose tickles as you try to brush them off. you can't help the childish giggles that escape you as you scrunch your nose in retaliation.

and jeongin can't help but watch.

all he wanted to do was deny, deny, deny his feelings for you.

he didn't want to complicate the relationship you had built up since you joined the group. he was the first person you talked to, he saw how anxious you were and did everything he could to make you feel comfortable, despite the fact that he was relatively new too and couldn't do much.

sure you were close with all the other members, but you and jeongin had a connection. something deep down that made your tummy hum and your head feel cloudy. every time he was near you he felt- cheesy enough- complete.

jeongin doesn't like you like that.

he couldn't.

"just friends." he thinks, watching as you turn to him with a smile that makes his heart hurt. "just friends."

12.05.23 | 8:23 p.m;

it had been a couple days since you all went to the park and you can already feel the sickness creeping up your throat.

most of the tea in the house was gone due to the other 8 contracting colds left and right. so when you go into the cabinet to make you another fix it wasn’t surprise to see that the options were limited.

what was surprising was that your chamomile tea, which you bought for yourself only (and jeongin) was sat empty on the shelf.

“son of a-.” you start, turning back towards the rooms lined the hallway, “which one of you bitches drank my tea?”

“me, sorry,” a voice echoes down the hall, “i ran out of mine and yours was the only one that looked good.”

jisung.

“i lend you my gloves and this is how you repay me?” you shout back, opting for some black tea instead, turning on the stove. “just for that you have to do my chores for the next week!”

it’s silent for a concerning second, and then a loud, throaty cough, “girl, fuck you!”

before you could spit out a long winded response, full of curse words you didn’t even know could be strung together, a gentle hand was placed on your back.

“you need to relax, you’ll raise your blood pressure, grandma.”

you turn around and see jeongin standing there with a mask around his face. he’s clad in a matching tracksuit, it was a size too big so it hung off his shoulders, allowing you to see the tank strap he had on underneath.

good lord.

“i’m legit only a couple months older than you.” you retort, pointing a wooden spoon at his face, “not too much on me.”

he laughs and raises his hands in defense, “i apologize.” he does you a favor and starts to put water in the kettle, “if it’s really that serious, i could just go out and get more for you. you don’t have to kill han over it.”

you watch as he places the kettle on the stove and ignites the burner, “i would be doing lee know a favor.”

he laughs again and allows you to take over. “plus you’re sick too.” you add, watching steam slowly blow out of the hole, “i don’t want you to go out and take care of me when you’re in the same state. that ain’t right.”

jeongin says nothing for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. he doesn’t want to lay out all his cards on the table, his confession riddle with coughs and pit stops to wipe his nose. but he wants to say that he doesn’t care that’s he’s sick. that he’ll go back to a few days ago and give you the coat off his back if you asked.

to be honest, just like the gloves, you wouldn’t have to.

he’ll willingly give you anything. even the world if you truly wanted it.

ugh, cheesy.

he pulls out his phone and leans against the counter next to you, "if you wont let me get it, i'll just doordash it."

you perk up, "you can doordash tea?"

jeongin nods and grins, facing the app towards you were the jewel-osco section is pulled up, "uh-yeah? you didn't know that?"

you scoff, "no? i'm not a online food delivery freak like the rest of you."

"you say that until you're asking me to order you some take out at like one in the morning."

you roll your eyes and push him out the way jokingly. the kettle begin to whistle like felix trying to hit a high note and you pour the hot water into the mug. "watch it." you pull down another cup from the cabinet, "and please don't spend your money on me. save it for something better."

jeongin raises an eyebrow, "like what? more clothes?" he jokes, clicking place order. "it's fine. i like buying things for you. even if its something small." small was definitely not the right word after he just spent 10 dollars on a tiny box of packets.

you can't help the heat that rises to your cheeks and turn your back to him, finding sudden interest in the tea in front of you. "i'll pay you back later."

"no need." he says, voice coming out softer than he intended, "like i said, i like buying stuff for you." he watches as your hands pause putting the sachets in the mugs and takes over, "i got it."

you have to force the thank you out of your throat as you stare up at him. maybe its because you're sick, but the lightheaded feeling becomes intense and you have to grip the sides of the counter to stabilize yourself. you watch as his hands move with ease, adding the sugar, then the honey to each respective mug.

he says nothing more, but he doesn't need to really say anything. the intense look on his face voices his thoughts a lot more than he wanted to let on, just like a few days ago. something was on his mind, he just wasn't saying what.

"are you okay?" you ask gently, laying a hesitant hand on his mid-back. you can feel him tense underneath your touch for a spilt second and then his body relaxes. he looks towards you quickly, giving a stiff smile. he pushes the finished tea towards you, your hands incase the hot cup before the liquid can spill over.

"mhm." his fingers dance over the rim of his drink, "why wouldn't i be?"

"i dunno." you reply, "you just look...overwhelmed."

"well, i am sick." he smirks, pulling down his mask to his chin, "everything is a little overwhelmed right now."

you shove him lightly, careful of the cup in his hands, "you know that's not what i mean!" he laughs, "but...you do know you can talk to me right? like, you know i wont judge, right?"

he knows that, in a million years, that you were never critical to his feelings. for as long as he could remember the two of you were going to each other for problems that you couldn't solve alone. but this was a different feeling. and if he were to tell you, he could be ruining a relationship that took a long time to build up. why ruin that rapport for something like a silly crush?

but he couldn't help but wonder if you felt the same? there had been many times where some of the other boys said that you felt the same, even though it wasn't there business to get involved (they do not care). but jeongin knew how they could be. spreading misinterpreted lies to egg on something that most likely isn't true in the first place. they had a tendency to mix up words so why would now be any different?

he's spent all of this time convincing himself that what he felt for you wasn't crush like behaviors. just a good friend looking out for another.

but friends dont get jealous when the other holds another's hand. friends dont get jealous when the other gives another more attention. friends dont have the urge to take them on dates, or have their contact be more than platonic, or to kiss the other.

maybe hyunjin has a point, maybe he does like you.

jeongin feels that if his heart continues on like this, it could stop at any moment. "death by seemingly unrequited love." would look hella embarrassing on his tombstone.

out of all the situation he has been alone with you, why did his heart and mind choose now to tell you? maybe it's the sickness making him vulnerable but he feels a rush of confidence surge through his veins.

"actually," he starts, a nervous shake rattles his vocal cords. he refuses to make eye contact with you, finding interest in his scorching hot cup, "there is something i need to tell you."

you posture immediately straightens and you place down your mug, giving him your undivided attention. usually he loves it, now its burdensome, "oh? what is it?"

the tea shakes under his hold and he mentally curses it for exposing his fear. he wants to do it so bad, it'll be okay, he tries to convince himself. just let it out.

"i've been trying to convince myself for a while that what i feel isn't true but i think i should tell you now."

you nod, urging him to go on.

he takes a deep breath, he isn't trying to stall but the way his insides buckle is making it hard to find the words.

he started it, now he just has to finish.

"y/n, I...," he pauses, "y/n I lik-" before he can get it out there's a big crash coming from down the hall. heavy footsteps stop at the kitchens entrance and lee know stands there covered in bubbles.

"what the hell happened?" you comment, rushing over to him while holding back a laugh. he looks like the pillsbury dough boy standing there eagle spread.

lee know coughs and you swear you see several suds fly from his mouth. "seungmin. i'll kill him, i swear i will."

you let out a laugh and brush the soap from his shoulders. it takes you a second to remember but when you do you turn back around to look at jeongin, "i'm so sorry what were you saying?" you start to say only to find the tea he was drinking abandoned on the counter.

"jeongin?"

jeongin barely hears you call out his name as he rushes down the hall and towards his room. he can't help the tears that brim in his eyes and he starts to feel pathetic wiping them away.

what the hell was he thinking? admitting he liked you was hard enough on himself, so why did he think admitting it to you was a good idea?

as he sits on his bed, he can't help but feel a piece of him gone. you most likely didn't know where he was getting at, you didn't know that he was confessing to you in that moment. but the embarrassment of him understanding his words were worse. there was no way he could face you after that. for his own dignity.

as he cries he can't help but think;

it's always different, i am the one in love.

part 2?

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