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#i can't get over morph. full stop
patchcandraw · 29 days
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I can't get over morph and rogue having basically the same outfit. btw.
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andraxicated · 10 months
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𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭
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Pairings: al haitham x f! reader
a/n: this has been rotting in my drafts jail for a month or two
tw: angry sex | hot nerd haitham! | jealousy | outdoor sex | sex pollen | dirty talk | dumbification inspired by sakaki-kun doujinshi
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"Look at Alhaitham. He's been like that since yesterday, I think his hair is about to fall off." Kaveh, your Kshahrewar friend comments with a snooty tone, pointing the man behind you with his chin. Upon hearing his name, you turn around to see Alhaitham on a faraway table, scribbling between tall books and parchments.
Being blessed with a vision and physical prowess, his senses are heightened and so he knows when someone is staring at him with intensity, he's even more used to it since he's the type of guy your head would follow. Alhaitham's head rose to catch you shamelessly ogling him, your elbow that was resting on the top rail of the chair fell almost immediately. Every time you see Alhaitham you get this feeling of floating on a cloud; like there were butterflies in your stomach, your fluttering heart prompting the corners of your lips to twitch, and the quivering itch burning between your thighs.
Under the table, you crossed your legs to relieve the tension, something that Alhaitham's eyes diverted to before he settled them back to your gaze. He's been attentive to your body lately and a silly smile breaks out from you until Kaveh's voice snaps you out of your trance, turning your attention back to him.
"What the fuck is wrong with him? Why did he stare for so long?" Kaveh looks troubled and is currently exchanging faces with Alhaitham. Your friend's skeptical face morphs into a frown the longer their staring contest was, until Alhaitham resumed burying his face in his books as Kaveh let out a relieved sigh.
Hopefully, soon his face will be buried between your—
"He looks like he wants to kill me." You suddenly burst out laughing at Kaveh as he looks at you wondering what's funny.
"Why do you seem so happy?" The blonde man in front of you slams his hands on the table, his eyes blown wide in disbelief. "Aren't you forgetting I'm your only friend? You'll be a loner when I'm gone!"
"I think you've forgotten that I have other friends too. And I don't care if it means someone stops freeloading off the books that I bought." You said with an emphasis on the '"I". "We're not even from the same darshan!"
"But some of the core subjects coincide within schools so I borrow from you."
"Sorry but I really have a hard time imagining you graduating" Kaveh fumes at your mean comment and accidentally lets out a loud "HEY!", disturbing other students and earning a look from the supervising personnel.
And Alhaitham noticed that as he can't seem to focus on his studies anymore. Not when he clearly sees your shoulder rising and falling from laughter, the dumb blonde's ugly face frowning then joining you with smiles, and how the atmosphere between you and that guy seems so carefree, so easy. Unlike with him, he notices your nervous body language, the avoidance of his eyes, and how you hate his presence so much you suddenly shut off.
Alhaitham doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit. His fist clenches on his thigh, mind racing on how to get out of this ridiculous predicament he put himself in. He absolutely hates how you hold so much power over him. He even dropped his guard and opened the chance for you to dethrone him as the top student at the Akademiya.
Alhaitham sighs, deciding the library wasn't his peaceful place anymore and leaves out the door.
From the heavy workload you all are suffering, every student needs at least to let loose. Be it a strobe-lit room full of dancing nerds or intense drinking games that has lightweights falling down like candles, everyone who needs to wriggle out of their uniforms will go there, no matter how lame the partygoers are.
"Ugh, this sucks that it's Akademiya only. I see these faces every day, I wanna meet new people!" Your friend moans in agony, her head bending back in exasperation as you two move alongside bodies on the dancefloor. You nod in agreement, frowning then scanning the room for a certain gray-haired man with highlights.
To be honest, you don't care about the people you meet because someone already has your heart.
"Where is Kaveh?!" Your friend asks over the loud music and you roll your eyes before giggling drunkenly. "He's stuck in his dorm doing his assignments due tonight!" You shout with a smile on your face, feeling kind of sorry for the man who's missing out on such a party. "He'll be dead if he doesn't pass that!"
And you burst out laughing yet the grin quickly wipes off your face when your stomach churns and a sudden urge to vomit comes up your throat. You hold a hand up to signal your friend and then push your way to the nearest bathroom, fumbling with the doorknob until it bangs back to you alongside a moan. oh. it's occupied.
You don't waste time getting out of the party and throw your stomach's contents to the nearest potted plant. Apologies to the dendro archon repeat in your mind as you take deep breaths to find your footing, faintly registering the heavy footsteps coming behind you.
"Here" A hand holds out a handkerchief for you to take, your hazy mind looked up to see Alhaitham towering over you, feeling your knees giving up.
"Thank you" You mumble and take the cloth, wiping your mouth as discreet as you can. "I'll clean this—"
"No need to return it to me."
Then before he could turn around, you grab the hem of his jacket, lightly revealing skin with his sleeveless top. You gather yourself before standing upright, shaking your drunk head to make way for clarity.
With a mischievous smile on your face that you hope he would fall for, you propose a late-night rendezvous to the man in front of you.
"Let's go to the city outskirts and sober up."
"You're the only one who's drunk." He deadpans
"Aren't you getting tired of being cooped up in this tall tree? We won't even go that far! Besides, it's busy right now in the city and I heard you don't like people. It's much more quiet out."
He looks at you, contemplating your words, and stares at a part of your face for a bit too long.
It's unfortunately not what you think.
"Brush your teeth first and freshen up. I'll wait for you by the gate." He walks off and your face fell.
Needless to say, you had a little breakdown at your dorm while dressing up in front of the mirror, even looking dumped as you tell your friend you're going out for fresh air.
All changed and clean, you trek with Alhaitham to the city viewpoint. Greenery fills your nostrils as he helped you climb the elevated land. "Thanks" You mumble and he hums, laying down the blanket you brought with you. It was probably done out of good for himself but still, it makes you smile. Maybe you were a little too obsessed with this man.
"Wow, the divine tree looks so pretty from here. It's amazing—" You get cut off by his loud cough that caught your attention. You look back at him to find a tinge of pink on his cheeks, a sheepish look on his face. He licked his lips, a motion you followed with your eyes until he coughed once more.
"Move your skirt, I can see your...underwear" He hesitated before completing his sentence, averting his eyes to the forests from your plump pussy. Embarrassment floods you in turn, moving to a position where your lacy panties are not vulnerable to his eyes. It takes you a moment to recover from digging stares into the soil and for Alhaitham to calm his boner down quietly.
Gulping down the last bit of your embarrassment, you happened to make the purple plants behind you the topic of conversation. Leaning closer to it, you admire the glow of the flora and asked him an obvious question that your brain processed too late. "Are these lavenders?" The smile wipes off your face when you realize they aren't, bracing yourself for the incoming smarty-pants reply.
If it was any other person, he would construct a sentence that subtly hints "dumb" but you're different and he's sure you're not one. Your mouth just runs first before your brain.
"It doesn't take an Amurta student to know it's not lavender. From the shape of the petals, its thickness, and from the strange glow and scent that differs from that of lavenders, it's obviously not one. However, I fail to identify this peculiar-"
"Okay I get it!"
You huff. "It's sweeter though" You comment as you take another whiff of the flowers, the scent filling your nose and into your lungs, strangely lulling your body to relax. Alhaitham knows you shouldn't sniff strange plants in the wild but he also knows to shut himself up right now, lest he upsets you even further.
"It's so addicting like it can be made into perfume! I like the scent!" You exclaim, a sigh leaving your lips as you close your eyes.
As soon as you said you like it, he leaned and carefully sniffed the emitting scent; any reservations he had about the plant were gone as soon as his nose welcomed it. It smells like browned pages of books, the fervid aroma of spices, and...your hair. One that he had the chance to smell one fateful morning in the hallway, where he had to help collect your fallen books.
"It smells so good" He murmurs out of himself until he snaps back and hears your giggles.
"I know! What is this plant? It smells exactly like my favorite flower!"
That is alarming. Whose nose is broken? What exactly is this plant—
His face drops as a sudden burst of arousal hits him like a truck, his dick print rising as panic fills his mind. Oh. OH. How could he realize this just now?
"(y/n) stop. get away from it." His deep voice shocked you, even more so his large hand that dwarfed your wrist and pulled you away. It sent lightning throughout your body, weirdly feeling the sensation on your suddenly sensitive nipples and the insatiable itch that grows inside you.
You know exactly what you're feeling. And it doesn't take long for you to look at the plant with accusing eyes.
Alhaitham removes his hold on you, moving away to a safe distance from you and the flower. "You can go first, I'm better off staying here." His chiseled back faces you and it's hard to fight the urge to wrap your arms around him, you want to latch on him like a leech, crossing your legs on the blanket at the thought.
"I don't think I can travel all the way to the city anymore." You said
"You need to. It's dangerous here."
You have to. He can't exactly walk with his huge problem confined in his pants, nor can he jerk himself off with you behind him. Oh archons he thought about that and it accidentally turned him on further. He had to hold back his groan, hands already undoing his belt quietly until a warm, sneaky touch to his thigh jolts him.
"What the-" "Haitham...I'm sorry about this. I should've been more careful" You whine, slowly creeping onto his lap as his hands stop midair in shock. His cock was protesting heavily, letting out a pained grunt when your soft cunt decided to rest above his bulge. "Fuck! (y/n)!" You attach your arms around his neck, burying your face on his chest from your unexpected boldness. It comforts you to feel him hold your hips, pulling you closer to eliminate any space.
"T-there's this feeling of wanting to feel warmth. I feel weird Haitham." You cry out while subtly grinding against his bulge. To have it poke underneath you is already satisfying. What more if it could be inside you?
"You don't know what you're doing to me" He says in a breathless tone, directing light whispers to your ear. "I can't exactly hold myself back. You can go if you don't want to do this with me."
He's offering you an out.
At that, you scoff as you grind deeper against him, letting him hear your tiny moans just outside his ear; the liquid courage left in your veins makes you do things you normally wouldn't.
Anyways, intoxicated or not, you'd do anything just to have a taste of him.
You chuckle, delivering a rippling grind that was bumped by his risen dick. "F-for a man of your caliber, you're pretty dumb in sexual contexts."
You suddenly lift your skirt, letting him see your thighs and his hand immediately flew to it. The flesh he so yearned to caress was in the palm of his hand. And there you exposed the thin string of your lacy panty, bringing his hand to your secret part that's covered by the skirt.
Archons. You were wet.
"You think I want out? Fuck me."
Alhaitham failed to reply. He was too enamored with the wet feeling of your hole, his eyes keep darting between your face and what's underneath your skirt. He could see you liked it from the look on your face, and so he gives it his all as he pumps his fingers faster to gauge reactions.
"H-haitham stop! I don't wanna cum yet!"
"You will when I say so" He exerts dominance with just his deep voice, even more so he's the one fingering you. Alhaitham is the one in charge. You let out a whine higher than your usual voice, shivering in his hold as both of you feel the slow gush of cum.
"(y/n) you're amazing. so so sensitive."
You then kiss him on the cheek, head tilted with a smile. "We haven't even started. Wanna do this right here or go back?"
Alhaitham could still smell the sweet scent of flora, thinking about its effects. He actually wanted to do it right there for something risky but...
"Your call" He spoke and his gaze was affectionate as he returned the question to you.
Ever the longing for adventurous sexcapades, of course, you'll say
"Here. Fuck me here." Wrapping your arms around him for a tight hug, you bring him down with you against the blanket, giggling as the cold air hits your pussy together with Alhaitham's careful weight.
For two aroused individuals, it doesn't take long for the magic to be done. Alhaitham was very eager in undressing you; almost ripping your precious top apart like the tearing sound of your skirt. Not once did he break the lip-locking until you tapped his shoulder.
"Fucking hell? You can kiss-mmmph!" The man didn't even let you finish your compliment, because how could he? Your lips were swollen with your hair falling behind your back and the matching black bra decorating your torso was too pretty to remove, but he bets the mounds hiding was even prettier.
He shimmies out of his own clothing, flying them wherever they ended up. As you're enchanted by the removal of his pants, his sneaky fingers creep between your legs, slotting them above your panties, and checking how wet it is.
"Haitham!" You whine, sparks going to your cunt as his digits busy themselves on stimulating you. He needs to make sure they're wet enough, although deep inside he knows it's just an excuse to feel your wet pussy. He just can't get enough of how soft and stretchable it is.
Alhaitham groans, his hard cock becoming even more painful, aching for something to sink in. "Shit" He shivers, trailing pecks from your temples to both your nipples. "I'm gonna put it inside. Deep breaths darling. Red's the safe word."
The thick head suddenly intrudes at your opening, letting you feel the stretch that completely surrenders your body to his. As long as you're under him, you're in his care. Your Haitham won't let anything painful happen to his pretty girl.
"Y-you're big! Ahhh~" What should've been painful with someone of his large size has become pleasurable pain, probably thanks to the plant in your blurry periphery. It rouses you more and more as his cock glides within your wetness.
He buries inches deeper, shushing your grunts with sloppy kisses as he tries to fight the tightness. "Loosen up, it's alright." He says and you nod, letting his member push all the way through yet not hit the end.
"Deeper!-hah-you can still go further-AHHH!" You shriek. Eyes wide from Alhaitham's cockhead prodding at your deepest part. He was gaining momentum to slam his dick flush against you, letting out a sexy moan when he successfully does so.
He looks at what a breathless mess you are, just from merely entering he's unraveled you already. You shiver and throw your head back, the intense weight pulsing inside you makes you keen.
Alhaitham looks equally ravished like he's having a hard time moving back and forth—all thanks to how tight you are. "It doesn't hurt?" He asks, concern showing on his face and the slow pace.
"N-no. My pussy needs you more. Please!" You follow your sentence with a moan, feeling the wetness of sweat between your thighs and mixed substance from the both of you. Alhaitham nods and starts his game at a dizzying pace that rocks your vision up and down. Your moans start to vibrate too as you lay there and take his cock like you wanted.
"Haitham so good! Uh uh uh~" He picks up the pace, now feeling the easy glide against your walls from how wet you are. He pushes his hair back that falls on his face, focusing on where you're connected and the little bumps on your tummy when he knocks deep.
"Of course it feels good. You're dripping right now." Alhaitham talks while rocking his hips forward into your hole and you take note of the obscene pap sound his heavy balls makes against your skin. He leans down and nips you on the neck, showing some attention too on both of your breasts.
You tighten against him, squirming yet his strength in gripping your thigh coaxes you to calm down. "You know why it feels good?" He suddenly asks and you make a motion of squinting your eyes in confusion.
"Because you've been thinking about it the whole time, haven't you?"
"Ever since that day in the library—no." Alhaitham suddenly thrusts on the last word, exactly into your sensitive spot and it had tears springing to your eyes. "Ever since we met in that hallway. You've liked me...didn't you?" His cheeks flush red.
"W-what?" Your mind was too fucked out to process questions. But this seemed like an important one so you try and listen.
"Don't try to deny it (y/n). You're clenching so hard on me-ah fuck." The little flutters your walls make around his cock fuels him to pump and pleasure you harder. Alhaitham wants to be the one to give you what you want, what you deserve. No other man can see this view except for him, he'll make sure that he is the only thing you know after this.
You buck your hips up in tandem with his thrusts, whines falling out of your mouth as Alhaitham watches you transform into a cock hungry slut. You weren't even listening to him, and that's what he hates the most when he's speaking about something of importance.
"You slut. You weren't listening aren't you?" His tone had become dangerously low and you blink your eyes hoping some clarity would return to your mind. It's not your fault his cock is fat and long—
"(y/n)"
"I'm listening"
"Then what did I say?"
You don't reply and he clicks his tongue. You also watch it poke against his cheek, a sign that a man is ticked. "I'm sorry". An apology came out of nowhere but you deemed it was a good response to whatever he was talking about.
The length inside you slips away, something that made your eyes go wide into a pleading look.
"You don't even know what the fuck you're apologizing for." Then Alhaitham removes his cock inside you in one go. A moan rips itself out of you as you cry and kick his back with your toes, wrapping your legs around him tighter.
"No, please Haitham, put it in I'm sorry! You just feel so good—ah ohhh!" You sob then shiver as a puddle of white pools below, heating up in your body in embarrassment. And it doesn't help that Alhaitham is just staring at it with his stoic face.
"...You're unbelievable." He muses as he watches your abused cunt glisten, his dick twitching and begging to feel your warmth once again. You whine and sit up in an attempt to cling onto him but before your legs could move, he has your waist in a controlling grip and flips you over for you to face the blanket.
"W-why?" You stutter, legs shaking as they're unable to support your whole body on all fours. But Alhaitham doesn't reply and instead answers by prodding his tip at your entrance and burying himself to the hilt. You moan while the sheets are crumpled within your fists. You could feel the weight of his hands around your waist, his heavy balls making plop sounds against your ass as he rushes the pace to get to his high.
He's pretty sure you're too far gone with the way you're bucking towards him, whimpers mixed in with moans about how big he is and how good he is to you. He feels a sense of triumph upon corrupting you, gripping your chin to redirect for a sloppy kiss, barely able to contain himself with the way your tongue knocked on his own.
Alhaitham pulls away to see your glassy eyes and felt the need to pump his cock faster, fully making it his mission to make you cum while holding eye contact.
"Look at me baby, look at me while you cum. I'm the only one who can make you like this." The cockhead hits your spot and you scream, gushes of liquid going out from you as pleasure wrecks your weak body, shaking in Alhaitham's arms as he presses a kiss to your head, continuing to chase his high.
"Good girl"
"Haitham it's too much. I can't anymore!" You cried, squirming in his grasp yet he tells you to stay still, doing everything he can to finish inside you. You maintain eye contact with him, staccato moans vibrating with the impact of his thrusts as he suddenly pinches your clit, making you let out a yelp as squirts of cum embarrassingly come out of you.
In the middle of your haze, Alhaitham leans to your neck and sucks on your skin, whispering profanities and words that he would only admit in the heat of the moment.
His hips met against your ass, wetness coating his shaft as his abs flexes in each thrust. "I don't like it when you're with him—or anyone else." You realize he's talking about something important so you listen in, trying very hard to maintain sanity against the drag of his cock against your walls.
He's relentless, groaning as the flush of red deepens on his cheeks and at the tip of his ear.
"So remember that I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. You're mine (y/n), mine." He stills as a load of cum bursts inside you, filling you up nice and warm as you moan at his claim on you. He whispers another near your ear and his breath tickles along his large hands soothing your backside. "And I'm yours. I'm only yours, remember that too."
You let out a breathy chuckle, legs giving out along with your sore pussy that's still plugged with his seed. You turn to face him and he looked insanely good from your view, hair sticking to his forehead and a body that overwhelmingly covers your own.
"You're so obsessed with me, nerd." You jest, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before slumping against the ground, fatigued and dirty from the sex.
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gurugirl · 8 months
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Best Friend's Dad!Harry
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best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship au
Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, age gap, cheating, lying, angst, breeding kink
Song to listen to: Illicit Affairs (you guys have said over and over again that this song fits this series perfectly and I couldn't agree more)
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note: should be read from top to bottom in order (unless noted that can be read as standalone)
Let Me Show You (6.3k words) - can be read as standalone
How your illicit affair with Mr. Styles began
Desperate (3.6k words) - can be read as standalone
A party at the Styles' house + sneaky bathroom sex
The Big Tease (7.8k words)
Some heavy teasing leads to you giving in to Mr. Styles
Not Fair (6.5k words)
Harry suggests something to you that blows up in his face *angsty*
He's Not You (7.8k words)
The aftermath of Harry's bright idea has some downfalls and he didn't expect to feel this way.
Liar (6.1k words)
Harry's wife suspects something is going on but she doesn't know what. Harry can't stay away from you and you don't want him to.
More of You (5.1k words) - can be read as standalone
Harry's at your place for a couple of days and you're enjoying having him all to yourself.
Crush (3.5k words) - can be read as standalone
A flashback: When your feelings for Mr. Styles morph from just finding him attractive to a full on crush you feel a little guilty. But then when he shows more than just a friendly interest in you at Fae's 22nd birthday party you two become close and eventually ebb on inappropriate, but you can't seem to stop.
Magic Spell (5.3k words) - can be read as standalone
A raucous Halloween party turns naughty when you and Harry find a hidden room at the Baylor mansion.
Under His Bed (4.5k words)
Harry invites you to stay at his house for the night and the following morning you both get an unexpected visitor.
Relax (4.9k words)
Fae asks you something that you aren't prepared to answer. You and Harry discuss what to do next.
Here's to Us (6.4k words)
A quick little weekend getaway is sweet and romantic. You reveal something that makes Harry do something a bit out of character.
Homewrecker (7.2k words)
The one where you and Harry finally come clean to everyone. Featuring an angry Fae, a spiteful soon-to-be ex wife, divorce terms, and lots of tears.
The Warning (4.5k words)
You and Harry are trying to heal after coming clean to everyone and Mrs. Styles comes to you with a warning.
A Little Naughty (3.3k words)
Your parents invite Harry to come with you for Christmas and you feel a little bit naughty after everyone's in bed.
Best Valentine's Day (4.2k words)
It's Valentine's Day and Harry's got something special planned.
Intuition (3.4k words)
Harry's got a surprise for you.
MORE TO COME!
divider by @firefly-graphics
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proxima-writes · 5 months
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title: my tears ricochet | part i
pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader
rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 7k
summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.
you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.
author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!
chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!
major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death
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You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.
The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.
"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"
You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.
"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."
"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."
"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."
"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"
He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."
"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"
"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"
"Can't say that I have," you reply.
"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."
"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.
The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.
"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"
"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.
"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."
"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."
A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.
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"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.
"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"
"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"
He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."
"I can just ask him to--"
"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."
"But--"
"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"
While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.
"Could you give me Joel's number?"
Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.
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You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.
"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"
"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.
"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.
"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.
"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"
She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.
"What made you pick this place?" He asks.
"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.
"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"
He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."
“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”
“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”
“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”
“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”
Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.
“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”
Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”
“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.
“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.
“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”
You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.
"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.
"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."
"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."
You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"
Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.
"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.
Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.
“So? What are your thoughts?”
“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”
Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.
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Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?
Not yet.
Joel: I know a place. You busy today?
You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.
I’m not busy. When did you want to go?
Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.
“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.
“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.
“The plaid one!”
“Should be in your tie drawer!”
“It’s not here!”
You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.
He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”
“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”
“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
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Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.
When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.
He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.
Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.
“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”
You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”
“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”
“Ours?”
A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.
“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”
“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.
“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”
As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.
“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”
“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”
“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”
Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”
“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.
“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”
“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”
“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”
He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”
“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.
Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”
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Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.
“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”
You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?
“Sure,” you agree.
That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.
Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.
And you're not sure what that means.
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You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.
When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.
There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.
Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.
You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.
“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.
“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”
You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”
“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”
“Could you come dress shopping with me?”
“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.
The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.
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Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.
“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.
“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.
“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.
“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”
You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.
“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.
“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.
“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.
“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”
“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”
“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."
Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.
Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.
"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."
"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."
"You wanna test it out?"
He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.
The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.
"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.
"Huh?"
"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"
The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.
"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"
You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.
"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."
The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.
She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.
"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"
He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."
You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.
"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.
"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."
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With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.
The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.
The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.
He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.
"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"
"No, not yet," you reply.
"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."
You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.
"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.
"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.
"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.
You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.
The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"
"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."
"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.
Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."
"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.
"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.
"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"
Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.
Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”
“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.
“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”
“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”
“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”
His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”
“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”
“No!” You shout.
His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”
The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.
You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.
“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”
“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.
“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”
“Like what?” You sigh.
“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”
“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”
Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”
“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”
Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.
“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”
You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”
“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”
“Goodbye, Joel.”
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Joel: Hey
Joel: You having a good week?
Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?
Joel: You’ve been quiet
Joel: I need to know you’re okay.
Joel: Just let me know
Joel: Please
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“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.
“I can't wait,” you reply.
"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."
"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.
The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.
Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.
Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.
“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.
“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”
You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.
"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.
"I've been busy," you say.
"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"
"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."
"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."
The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.
For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.
But it's not.
You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.
"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"
He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.
"This isn't love, Joel--"
"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"
"There is no card!" You shout.
"You kissed me back!" He counters.
You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.
Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.
A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"
"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.
"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.
Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."
The door slams shut behind him.
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Your rehearsal dinner is torture.
This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.
Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.
It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.
"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."
The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."
"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."
"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."
His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."
"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"
Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.
"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"
You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"
"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"
"What do you mean?" You ask.
He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"
"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."
"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."
"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."
"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"
Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."
"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."
Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.
"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.
"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."
You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?
You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?
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It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.
For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.
A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.
It's Joel.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.
"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.
"Thank you," you whisper.
"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.
"Yes."
It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.
"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."
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Joel Miller masterlist
All masterlists
divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.
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ervotica · 3 months
Note
Domestic fluff with Lucien
Just soft compliments, cuddling, hugs and fluff
My baby deserves the WORLD
pairing; lucien vanserra x fem!reader
warnings; none! just fluff and a little suggestive flirting
The apartment is quiet this time of morning. Blazing hues of orange and yellow and pink creep over the horizon, and iridescent rays push their way past the curtains and onto your sleeping face, illuminating the gentle scrunch of your features as you rouse from softly dozing.
A yawn cracks your face right in two, and your limbs stretch and twist in voyage of your mate, of the warmth of him that you so desperately want to curl into- you find only crumpled sheets and a bare space where he should be.
Then you're reluctantly rolling out of the cocoon of comfort between the thick bedsheets, and tiptoeing your way down the stairs in nothing but your thin sleep shorts and a bra.
A flash of bright auburn draws your eye to Lucien, his back to you as he pours two mugs full of scalding tea, the steam rising and curling around his long, ring adorned fingers that clasp the teapot. A smile tugs your lips up at the corners, even more so when he turns to set the pot down, his rasping cadence humming a lilting tune that pulls you toward him like a magnet.
Your hands move of their own accord, snaking their way up the base of his spine and flaring out until your fingers are splayed against miles of bare, golden skin. He shivers under your touch, leaning back just as you twine your arms firmly around his midriff and plant your face against the dip of his back.
"Hi, gorgeous," you murmur, voice thick and sticky with sleep. The heat that emanates from him wreaths itself around your very bones, crusting lashes falling closed when he amusedly tugs on the mating bond and exhales a deep breath through his nostrils.
"Morning, sleepy girl," he laughs, twisting in your grip until you're eye level with his chest, cheeks red-hot with affection and smushed against the smooth plane of muscle of his pec. "You're up early."
"You weren't in bed," you murmur; the vibrations of your words reverberate against Lucien's bare skin. His boxers are hung low in his hips, enticing your hands to sweep lower, tips of your cold fingers breaching the thin elastic.
"Easy," he groans, stopping you short on your journey beneath his underwear. "You little minx."
You tip your head back to meet his eyes - one russet and one of incandescent gold that whirs when he tips his gaze down to watch you.
"You love me," you tease. "You can't get enough of me, handsome."
"Mm." The grating scratch of his voice has you arching into his touch, tucking your shoulder beneath his armpit as he stretches to the counter and places a mug in your free hand. You hum appreciatively, nose scrunching tight when he leans down to smear a kiss over the crown of your head. "You're insatiable."
The words are a murmur against your hair but you don’t miss them- you never do. Your head tilts up to scrape against the sharp curve of his jaw, and then you’re tugging him to the living room, forcing him down into the soft leather and haphazardly attempting to lay across him; you’re a mess of sprawled limbs and frazzled hair, draped messily over his lap as you try to avoid sloshing him with your cup of tea and barely succeed.
He hooks a corded bicep over the nape of your neck and sinks into the sofa, softening at your reverent touch, the way you idly twist the ends of his hair and shuffle yourself closer to cover more of his body with your own. Your breath is hot and tickling at his bare chest.
“I love you, y’know,” you sigh, watching the way his face contorts with adoration at your words; your sticky lashes kiss at the corners, pushed together by your beaming grin. “Didn’t think I’d ever find my mate. But you. You’re perfect. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be tied to my soul.”
“For a descendant of Satan, you’re pretty cheesy, my darling,” he drawls, crows feet crinkling with laughter as you gasp, features morphing into a scowl that only serves to make him laugh with more fervour.
“I won’t stand for this, Lucien. Don’t make me take it back!”
“You wouldn’t,” he roars with amusement. “You love me.”
“I hate you,” you grumble, flushing white-hot all over.
“I love you too, my little devil.”
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ddejavvu · 1 year
Note
Hey Daisy I have a a request for you imagine dating James and you're spending the night at his dormitory and you forgot makeup wipes and you ask Sirius but he says he doesn't have any and you just wiped off your face the best you could but then you hear the rustling/ crinkly sound and you see he has a big pack( I hope this makes sense just cuz like maybe their Frenemies Sirius thinks you "stole"james from him) and they start wrestling for you to get one "let me use one Sirius "and maybe you end up jumping on his back and finally remus gives you one while you're still on siri back
"Sirius?" You pop your head up from where it was resting on James's chest, peering curiously at him as he heads for the bathroom.
"Hm?" He stops short, brows raised.
"Do you have makeup wipes?" You inquire, keeping your voice down so that James doesn't wake. He's been asleep in his bed for almost an hour now, but you can't sleep yourself until your face is clean.
"Uh, sorry," Sirius shifts on his feet, shaking his head, "Don't think so."
"Okay," You nod, "Uh, soap, then? Like, face soap?"
"I've got some," Remus pipes up from across the room, tucked into a chair with a book, "You can use a washcloth from the cabinet."
"Thanks," You grin appreciatively at him, settling back down against James's sleeping form and letting Sirius do his nightly routine before you start yours.
It's only seconds later that you hear the familiar rrip of suctioned plastic opening, then the crinkling of a package of...
Makeup wipes. You crane your neck to peer into the bathroom where Sirius is trying his hardest to conceal the loud packaging, and failing misterably.
"Hey," You hiss, clamoring off of James's bed, "That's a full pack! Were you lying to me?"
Sirius huffs, "Yes, didn't think you'd notice with your head shoved in m'best friend's tits."
You narrow your eyes, and Sirius knows he's been caught. He busies himself removing his eyeliner, and you stalk into the bathroom.
"You're jealous," You realize, an accusatory finger pointed in Sirius's direction, "You think I stole your best friend!"
"And now you're trying to steal my makeup wipes," Sirius sneers at you in the mirror, one hand protectively over the package, "Hey, maybe James'll let you use one of his old sweaty gym shirts to take your makeup off! Gives you practically all his other clothes."
"Pathetic," Remus calls from his chair, and James's lashes begin to flutter sleepily, "Really, Pads, this is a new low."
"What is?" Your boyfriend speaks through a yawn, and you wish you were still cuddled up to him so that you could lean into it and release an echo-y kiss into his open mouth. It always makes him dissolve into giggles.
"My boyfriend is jealous of your girlfriend," Remus informs James, peering over top of his book, "He's trying to hoard the beauty supplies."
"Hey!" James props himself up on his elbow, neck craned to see the bathroom, "Bad Padfoot! You're a big boy, sharing is caring."
"She doesn't share you much," Sirius holds the package of wipes above his head, making you reach for them, "Does she?"
"For your information, I stick to her like glue." James boasts, arching his back off of the bed while he stretches, "It's my choice, not hers. The only way you'll get me is if you stick to her, too."
"Fine." Sirius huffs, pushing the package of makeup wipes into your chest and storming to James's rickety twin bed, "You've forced my hand, Y/N! I have no other choice!"
And with that, he's gone in a flash, morphed into a big, shaggy, black dog.
Padfoot settles in the spot you'd previously occupied. He leans against James's side, and the man rolls his eyes fondly at the dog, scratching between his ears while he waits for you to finish in the bathroom. The second you start for the bed again, James shoves Padfoot to the end of the bed, ignoring his indignant yelp.
"Sorry, Pads." James laments, welcoming you with open arms as you crawl into bed beside him, "Her ass is way better to feel up than yours."
"Speak for yourself," Remus drawls, and quick as a flash, Sirius has decided he'd rather dogpile on his boyfriend, "No offense, Y/N."
"None taken," You sigh happily into James's chest, stifling a smile when the man's large hands find your ass just like he'd bragged about, "Take him to the pound, dog catcher."
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wonfilms · 1 year
Text
STRAY KIDS + HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS . (HYUNG LINE EDITION)
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bangchan doesn't get jealous easily. well, at least that's what he thought. he trusts you with his life, he knows that you can handle issues yourself but he can't help the way his fists clench in his pockets when he sees the barista get a bit too flirty to you, he went went as far as asking for your number. that's when something genuinely snapped inside of chan, he almost feel himself scoff at the sugary sweet smiles the guy was aiming at you.
he gently nudges your side with his hand before lacing his fingers with yours and giving your palm a tight squeeze. you cough to cover a giggle as you see the way he was pouting, he pulls you close as the barista goes to make your drinks, "you alright baby?" you whisper before pressing your lips to his cheek. "mmmhm," he hums , "that guy was acting a bit weird no?"
"yeah he was seriously flirting?" you chuckle as you watch chan's expression turn sour, "channie are you really jealous of him?"
"no, 'm not it's just" he starts to argue before he lets out a sigh of defeat, "yeah i was a little bit"
you squeeze his hand tightly, "you're the only one for me chan, i promise"
.
lee know thinks he's being really suave about it , but he's really not.
"yeah?" his face lights up and you can feel your heartstrings tug a little at how sweet he looked, "always. " you reassured him, watching the way his lips immediately morphed into a soft grin.
you can tell that he wasn't enjoying the unwanted attention you were getting, from your co-worker kei, by how hard he's gripping the glass in his hands. his eyes don't stray away from slyly glaring at the man in front of you. he was so blatantly flirting with you, it made the blood boil in his veins.
though he has full trust in you, his hand comes over to rest upon your hip squeezing it tightly, just in case. he pulls you close and places a small kiss on your cheek, he watches kei out of the corner of his eyes, with a small smirk. "how about we head home babe? " he whispers loud enough for kei to hear. his breath brushes the skin of your neck, and you feel yourself shiver a little. he stands up, stretching loudly before grabbing your hand, "ah sorry kei, maybe we can catch up some other time, we're going to head back to our apartment, " he smiles sarcastically before turning to you, "you ready to go baby?"
you stifle a giggle as you watch kei's cocky expression turn into a sour one, "yeah min, let's go home" you say sweetly before you let lee know drag you out of the bar.
hyunjin won't hesitate to show you that he's jealous. even though he knows you're the only one for him and he's the only one for you, he can't help but glare at whoever's pathetically attempting to hit on you.
"you're so jealous right now..." you laugh a little at the scowl painted across lee know's face. "am not??!" he scoffs, but you can feel the grip he has on your hand tighten as he gives your palm a comforting squeeze.
"you know i only have eyes for you right?" you say softly standing still in your tracks for a moment. he halts to a stop as well as you pull him toward you. even though he's avoiding eye contact with you out of embarrassment, you catch the small smile that graces his lips at your words.
.
you're too pretty. it's almost impossible for only him to have eyes for you, however much he wishes it was true. he wants you all to himself, and apparently so does the guy across the room who keeps on looking you up and down.
he's quick to pull you close , "hey babe do you want my jacket? " he questions softly, "you look a little cold?"
he's tempted to kiss you right there and then but he doesn't want to make a scene, and plus... you don't seem to have picked up on it. you were so busy innocently giggling with han and seungmin. he didn't wanna ruin your night just because some creep was checking you out.
you turn to him with the sweetest smile and he could feel his heart melt in his chest, "oh sure hyunnie!" you take his jacket and slip your arms into it, cuddling it closer . he feels himself smiling at how cute you looked in HIS jacket, he turned to watch the expression of the man across the room turn bitter , with a smirk.
"you know you look so pretty tonight" he leans in and whispers into your ear, his breath skims your neck and you can already feel the heat rise to your cheeks. "you think so?" you laugh, attempting to hide your hot cheeks in your hands. he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple , "i always think you're pretty baby".
.
the likelihood of someone hitting on you while he's with you is unlikely, and he almost prides himself on it. he says he's not the type to get jealous, and in all honestly it's true, he just doesn't.
changbin is intimidating, it's true.
he's got to admit the fact that there's someone watching with such hatred as he kisses you really pushes him to carry on. it's almost entertaining.
he trusts you more than himself and he knows you're more than capable of warding unwanted attention off, but there's a small part of him that crumbles every time he catches someone staring at you.
the reason isn't even you, it's himself because deep down under the brave stance he shows to everyone, he's just a little scared.
he sometimes thinks you're too good for someone like him, you're drop dead gorgeous in his eyes. everything about you drives him crazy and he knows other people think the same thing. it's almost stupid to think only he could admire you, however much he'd like that.
.. but he'd always be mature about his jealousy, even though a part of him wants to kiss you senseless to show the other person that you're taken.
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a/n : i screamed and cried writing this one i liked writing the hyunjin + lee know drabbles a bit too much 🤒
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st-danger · 6 months
Note
craving good boy aeon pillow humping :( he's just so pathetic i can't stop thinking abt it
He's sweating. He can feel the back of his shirt sticking, knows that the nape of his neck is getting slightly damp. Outside, the moon is full, the temperature is low, and the chilly autumn air sinks into the abbey, impossible to escape the cold.
Aeon's heat doesn't care. A cool rag, a lukewarm shower- either or both seem necessary. He is burning both in temperature and in need, and lies slumped against the edge of the bed, having not even made it in. Just lying on the floor, palming himself shamefully while Dew simply Looks.
"Are you just gonna stand there?" Aeon asks, voice quiet. Hesitant. He can't stop rubbing himself, his hand moving of its own accord. He's out of control.
"Wouldn't dream of leaving you to suffer," Dew drawls, and offers a smile that is so far from reassuring and so deliciously intriguing Aeon feels the room around them grey out and unfocus for a moment. "Been waiting for this," he adds.
"Have you?" Aeon says, shoving the heel of his hand harder against himself, his hips hitching forward into it. He doesn't mean to whine, he really doesn't. Dew steps closer, leans down and places a gentle hand on Aeon's cheek, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone, and then tracing his fingertips along the sharp cut of his jaw, under his chin. Tilting his head up to make sure he looks right at Dew and only Dew.
"Haven't you?" he asks. "Or have I been misreading?"
"I mean," Aeon gulps, "I- called you, didn't I?"
"Maybe Swiss was busy," he shrugs. His brow is arched and he speaks with a honeyed tone; giving Aeon a hard time simply because he can. Aeon's face morphs into something plaintive, self-conscious in this state and instantly concerned he's made Dewdrop to feel like some kind of placeholder. Like he hasn't enjoyed falling to his knees before him on stage. Dew softens, and then kindly, "You didn't need to wait. Could've asked a long time ago."
In a show of grace, he doesn't make Aeon ask- he leans down and kisses him, and muffles the pathetic moan the contact pulls from him. It feels so good, so fucking good to feel lips on his, soothing some of the desperation welling up inside him, fiercer by the minute. He gives Aeon his tongue, licks slow and deep into Aeon's mouth and Aeon has to wrench his hand away from his cock. Insane to realize, but the combination of the heat, the slide of Dew's tongue, grinding on his hand- he can't possibly deal with it all at once. It's going to make him cream his jeans. The idea of going off so easy...Dew would probably love it. Aeon isn't sure he'd find it anything other than embarrassing in some strange way, and selfishly would rather be made to cum by someone else's hand. So he asks.
"Make me cum," he says, and Dewdrop pulls away, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes.
"Many times as you need," he assures him, and then straightens up, "if you do something for me."
"Anything," Aeon says without hesitating. He throbs in his pants and can feel himself leak, sudden and copious. He picks at the carpet beneath him and keeps himself from humping the air, but barely. "What?"
"I wanna watch you," Dew says, reaching over Aeon, for the bed, giving him a side view of his pelvis where the bulge in his pants is obvious and unmistakable. What does it look like? How thick, how long. How small or large, it doesn't matter. He wants to see. Wants to taste. Wants it deep inside him until his skin stops burning. "I'll suck you off after, anything you want. Please."
He snatches a pillow, eyes glittering as he holds it out to Aeon. An offering.
"Ride it for me?" Dew asks, hopeful.
Aeon's already unzipping, falling back against the floor to shove his pants off.
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notsunnyowo · 4 months
Text
Prom Dress
Gojo Satoru graduation party headcanon :>
Content: Just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Female Reader (AFAB)
Word Count: 606
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"Satoru!! We're going to be late!" You called out to your date.
"Just give me five more minutes to finish up and I'll be right down!" You heard Gojo's voice coming from his dorm room.
"You said that fifteen minutes ago man!" You reprimanded. "My feet are killing me!"
The schoolyear had finally ended and you were over the moon with excitement. You had finally graduated from Jujutsu High and were now a full-fledged Jujutsu Sorcerer!
As the last day you'd be spending in the school, all your classmates, correction, every student currently attending the school had gotten together to organize a graduation party for your class.
You could hear the upbeat music coming from outside. I bet everyone's having a blast out there.. You thought. You, too were supposed to be out there, having the time of your life with all your friends, but instead you were stuck waiting for your best friend and current date - Gojo Satoru.
"That's it- If you don't come out this instant I'm going without you Satoru!"
No response.
"Alright then, I warned you." You said, turning around and taking a step forward, only to be stopped by the unmistakable sound of Gojo's room door opening.
"About time! If you'd made me wait even one more second I would've-" You paused, jaw almost dropping at the sight before you.
Is that..? N-No way.. It can't possibly be-
Standing right there in front of you was your best friend, yet you couldn't seem to believe it.
Since when did Satoru become this hot?!
"Y-You uh.. Look good. I mean- The suit looks good! On you, that is!. What is going on with me today..?!" Letting out an awkward laugh you clear your throat before suggesting. "Shall we go now? I'm sure the others are waiting for us."
"Yeah." Satoru gave you a soft smile, making your poor heart almost leap out of your chest. "Let's go."
He took his arm out, gesturing for you to take it, and once you did, the two of you began walking down the hall in silence. You didn't dare to say a word, especially not after what just happened a few minutes ago.
What had even gotten into you back there? Why did you begin stuttering like a nervous wreck in front of Satoru? It wasn't like you to get nervous like that, especially not when it came to Gojo, your best friend of nearly four years!
You glanced at him, heart skipping a beat while doing so.
I always knew he had a good looking face.. But I never realized how handsome he actually was..
It didn't take long for Satoru to take notice of your staring and look back at you. His crystal-blue eyes locked with your own. Looking into them felt like gazing deep into a vast ocean.
His previously soft smile quickly morphed into his signature shit-eating grin as he then stated. "(Name), you're staring."
Feeling the heat rushing to your checks, you immediately looked away, hastily uttering out an apology to the boy.
"Sorry about that.."
"S'fine." Satoru replied. "If I were you I'd also get lost looking into my eyes. Since they are breathtaking."
His comment made you chuckle, instantly lightening the mood.
"Yeah, they really are beautiful."
This time, it was Satoru who went quiet and you instantly looked at him, afraid to have done something wrong, only to be met with Gojo's flushed checks.
Were you seeing things or was the Gojo Satoru blushing right now? It sure was!
It took the boy a moment to compose himself before turning to you and saying.
"You look beautiful tonight."
A/N: I was scrolling trough Tumblr when I saw these pictures of Gojo and knew I had to write something about them. And so- Here we are :'D
Hope you all enjoyed reading! <3
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eris-snow · 1 year
Text
𝟐𝟎 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬
✨When you read each other's minds
Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, bakugou's birthday series 2023
Bakugou and you play a game to see how well you know each other. You both are really good at it.
"No."
"Come on Bakugou! It'll be fun-"
"No."
"Bakugou, it's just a game to who knows each other best!" Kirishima expresses, patting him on his back. "Please?"
Bakugou slams his cup on the kitchen counter, whipping to Kirishima with a nasty scowl. "I know what you're tryna pull, Shitty Hair." He spits, "You want me to play a couples activity. With Sunshine, right?'
Kirishima stiffens.
Bakugou sighs, running a hand down his face. There was no point in trying to hide it anymore. From the Quirk accident the other day to everything in between, Bakugou knows that he can't keep running from his feelings forever.
What's stopping him, though?
"Listen," He says, tearing his eyes from Kirishima. "I don't know what Dunce Face told you, or what you're speculating, but I'll do...whatever the hell I'm doing at my own fucking pace." He fills his cup with boiling hot water, going through the motions to make a hot cup of chocolate.
"Who put you up to this?" Bakugou asks exasperatedly, still not looking at Kirishima in the eye.
Kirishima scratches his head sheepishly. "Mina."
Bakugou rolls his eyes. Why isn't he fucking surprised? "Whatever. Tell her to fuck off about this lovey-dovey bullshit and to leave me alone-"
"Ashido!"
Your groan interrupts Bakugou's rant, making both him and Kirishima's attention diverted to the living room where you were, sitting so innocently on the couch while being completely oblivious as to what Mina was planning.
Bakugou's heart drops when he hears you say, "What do you want to do tonight?"
It plunges further when he sees almost all of Class 2-A gathered down in the living room, all ready to participate in one way or another for Ashido's game.
"What the fuck."
Kirishima seizes his opportunity. "If you leave, I think she said something about pairing L/N with Denki," he says thoughtfully. "They have a lot in common, after all."
Bakugou snarls at Kirishima, who smiles back innocently.
God dammit.
--
"Seriously, fuck all of y'all."
Bakugou grits his teeth and sits on the single vacant armchair. He avoids your gaze and ignores Kirishima's blatant high-five with Mina somewhere in his peripheral vision.
Let's just get this over and done with.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Mina announces, looking more excited than necessary. "You all know the rules! We even made a list of questions for the game! The judges will ask one person of each pair the question and the other has to write down their own the answer. If both people in the pair have the same answer they get a point! Whichever couple gets the most right wins!"
Bakugou quirks an eyebrow. "Couple?"
You, on the other hand, look like it's slowly dawning on you what kind of game you're playing. And at this point, it's too late to back out. Your face morphs from realisation to a full-body panic attack, and Katsuki can't blame you because that's exactly how he feels too.
"Fine, best friends, if you will, Blasty." Mina relents. "First team is Kirishima and me! The second team is Midoriya and Uraraka and the third team is Bakugou and Y/n! Todoroki and Momo will judge and the rest will be spectators. Any questions?"
Bakugou has many questions. But he keeps his mouth ironed shut and just manoeuvres himself to plop down on the arm of the chair you were sitting on. "We doing this or what?" He snaps.
Todoroki raises an eyebrow.
Mina has that weird glint in her eye.
And Mineta is busy cursing in all kinds of different languages.
Bakugou turns to you and you get the hint, cooling the blush on your cheeks as you slide over for him to sit down.
"Yeah. Let's do this."
--
First question:
"Where does your partner prefer hanging out when they are free?" Momo says, reading aloud.
Bakugou smirks to himself as he sits facing you, scrawling out the answer on the board while Midoriya bites his lip harshly.
He didn't expect it to be this easy.
"Oh! I usually just chill out in the living room! You know, to hang out with friends." Ochaco says, scratching her head. Midoriya flips his board over and smiles sheepishly at her. "Sorry! I just, um, I didn't really know so I put your dorm room." He looks at Todoroki hopefully, who shakes his head. "Sorry, Midoriya. Too specific."
"I go to the mall!" Mina exclaims excitedly, but her face falls when Kirishima flips his board nervously with the words: Dorm, written messily on it. "We haven't really had much free time until recently!" Kirishima protests as Momo awards them with zero points.
"What about you, L/n?" Sero asks. All attention falls on both of you as you stutter out your answer. "There's, um, a green patch right outside Baku-I mean the dorms. It's near the forested area surrounding the premise of the school." Bakugou grins, whirling his board around that said: green patch surrounded by tall ass trees.
"I can't believe Blasty actually remember something like that..." Denki says in disbelief as Todoroki awarded a point to their team. "Course I'd remember. Who do you take me for, hah?" Bakugou lashes back.
It's right outside my balcony, after all.
This goes on like this with some back and forth from the other pairs, but you and Bakugou somehow kept syncing answers even after Todoroki and Momo dialled the difficulty up for the both of you.
What's your favourite colour? Easy. It's red. He doesn't why, even though you give a vague description he can tell is an excuse. You can't help but flash a glance at Bakugou's brilliant red eyes at the question. You bite your lip.
Yeah, it's red, alright.
What's Bakugou's favourite pastime? You shake your head, smile returning. "Sleeping," You reply with ease, matching Bakugou's board without hesitation.
"On a scale of one to ten, how much you do you trust Bakugou?"
Bakugou scoffs. These questions were even more stupid than he thought. "100." you reply nonchalantly, stealing his mug of hot cocoa.
Bakugou lets you.
He flips the board over and the number one hundred sits there innocently, with no eraser marks in sight.
It was the last question that stumps Bakugou.
"What do you like about your partner?" Bakugou wants to strangle Todoroki.
He takes in a deep breath, and glances at you. You were making such a conflicted face that it almost makes Bakugou laugh. He doesn't, though.
What does he like about you?
He thinks and thinks but there are just too many possible answers. That's when one quality tumbles to the front of his mind. It's a reply that crawls its way into Bakugou's mind's driver's seat, and it's not one that Bakugou likes. However, no matter how much he tries to dismiss it, it stays.
You've gotten everything correct at this point, and doing this might screw that up, but he sure as hell isn't gonna lie in front of the entire class just so he can win a perfect score with you. He scrawls out his word and waits for you to answer.
Uraraka guesses correctly, that that damn nerd likes her positivity, which just melts the cinnamon rolls into a blushing mess. Mina guesses correctly that Kirishima likes her compassion towards everyone.
Kirishima further turns into a stuttering mess when she hugs him tightly because, Bakugou can tell, there are some unsaid words flying over their heads that only the both of the can interpret.
All eyes land on you two again. "I-uh-I don't know." You laugh self-deprecatingly. "Maybe my skills at hand-to-hand combat? We spar a lot outside of training." You add quickly, flushing "Either that or it's nothing."
The audience was not impressed. Bakugou shakes his head, staring directly into your eyes. "You're a moron." He utters, flipping his board around. There's only one word:
Everything.
You stare at Bakugou.
Bakugou stares at you.
Fucking hell, he just made it weird, didn't he?
"No points," Todoroki interrupts, "But you guys still win. Congratulations. Here, have a mint."
His hot chocolate is cold now, having been sitting out for way too long. The cup's almost empty now, he realises because you had been drinking from it too.
Your heart is pounding as loudly as the pitter patter of the rain outside as heat rises to your cheeks.
There's one last eye lock before the both of you avert your eyes.
You don't talk to him for the rest of the night.
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mybutcheredtongue · 3 months
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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased
harry potter timeline sirius black x reader
CHAPTER NINE (see full series list here)
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1993
You sip your tea, actually up in time for breakfast for once. Because of the night-time nature of your subject, you tend to go to bed later than the rest of the school and wake up later. It means you're especially close to the kitchen's house elves, as they often prepare you breakfast for when you eventually do get up. Especially Bitsy. You've taken to buying her film for her camera every Christmas, but it doesn't last long as she takes pictures of everything, including you.
"You know, I had the strangest dream last night," you say to Remus beside you.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm, I was in a sort of muggle circus tent, right? But it was on fire. And there was this guy there, wearing like a weird three-foot tall wizard's hat that morphed into this odd kind of wig afterwards," you recall. "And then, I kinda thought, 'hey, maybe I should use my wand to put out this fire' but instead of putting it out I transported it to Madam Puddifoot's."
Remus blinks at you, and you try and stop the smile from appearing on your face.
"You know what? That is a strange dream," he responds, shaking his head and you laugh.
"I know! It was so weird."
"Oh, I actually read something about dreams recently," Remus says thoughtfully. "Apparently they reflect things going on in your life."
You snort. "What, my desire to set Madam Puddifoot's on fire? I mean, I suppose it's not wrong..."
There's loud noise at the Gryffindor table, even students from other houses going over to it. You lean your head to the side to see Harry sitting at the table, grinning proudly at his Firebolt. You chuckle, looking down the table at Professor McGonagall.
"He got his broom back, so?" You say and she nods.
"Yes, couldn't find anything wrong with it, thankfully. And I must say, never have I seen a student so happy with something I have told him," she remarks and you grin.
"A Gryffindor win this year, perhaps?"
"Oh, I do hope so."
"You would only be so lucky," Snape says snidely beside her and you scoff.
"Don't need luck with that broom, right Severus?" You say cheekily and he raises his eyebrows disdainfully at you.
"At least my house have skill, and do not rely on their broomsticks to do the work for them."
"You're just jealous 'cause you want a spin on the Firebolt, Severus," you tease, returning to your breakfast.
Later, you sit with Remus in the Quidditch stands, looking out at the pitch in the cool, clear air.
"Merlin, I hope they win. I'm after placing a five-galleon bet with Filius that we win," you say, watching as the two captains shake hands and Madam Hooch blows her whistle to set off.
"You can't say 'we'," Remus says with a sigh. "We're supposed to be impartial, remember?"
"Ah, you hardly think any of these teachers are impartial, do you?" you laugh. "Sure even Dumbledore leans to Gryffindor just a little."
Lee Jordan's voice can be heard over the stands.
"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt which Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship — "
"Jordan, would you mind telling us what is going on in the match?" interrupts McGonagall's voice.
"Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information. The Firebolt, incidentally, has a built in auto-brake and — "
"Jordan!"
"Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal..."
Remus chuckles beside you, nudging you with his elbow. "Mr Jordan reminds me of someone."
You roll your eyes, laughing. "I can't say that you're too far off...he can definitely give me a run for my money. I think my title of Best Commentator in the History of the World is in danger."
"Oh? And where were you given this prestigious award? The Academy of Modesty?"
You cackle, throwing your head back in laughter. "You witty bastard."
You watch as Harry zooms past on his broomstick, the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, tailing after him.
"Gryffindor lead by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now. See it turn — Chang's Comet is just no match for it. The Firebolt's precision-balance is really noticeable in these long — "
"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"
Harry suddenly dives to the ground and you hold your breath, thinking he's seen the Snitch, but then he pulls up sharply and heads for the Ravenclaw end of the pitch, accelerating. Cho Chang follows suit, before she lets out a scream and points at three tall, black, hooded Dementors looking up at Harry.
You and Remus both turn to each other before quickly turning back to the match, just in time to see Harry produce his wand and yell, "Expecto patronum!"
A large silver stag erupts from Harry's wand and throws itself at the Dementors and knocks them off their feet —
Wait, their feet?
As you squint at the dark figures, you make out four young boys tangled in dark cloaks and click your tongue in disappointment, just as Harry grabs the Snitch and the stadium explodes into cheers.
You and Remus stand and leave your seats like the rest of the supporters, the Gryffindors rapidly streaming onto the pitch in celebration.
"You saw what I saw, right?" you ask.
"If you saw four boys playing dress-up as Dementors, then yes."
You find the four boys, immediately recognizing the faces of Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Marcus Flint.
"Well, well, well," you tut, hands on your hips as you look down at the heap of Slytherins. "Bet you regret doing that now, eh boys?"
They groan collectively and soon enough, McGonagall approaches with an expression of pure fury on her face. She starts to yell, and then Remus arrives with Harry in tow, and you don't miss the look on Harry's face at the sorry site in front of him.
"An unworthy trick!" McGonagall shouts. "A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin! I shall be speaking Professor Dumbledore about this, make no mistake! Ah, here he comes now!"
You grin at Harry, whispering, "Excellent Patronus, Harry!"
He beams proudly.
An great victory for Gryffindor indeed, especially considering you're five-galleons richer as you return to your bedroom.
✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。
Sharp knocking on your door jolts you awake that night, and you quickly swing your legs over and out of your bed to answer the incessant knocking. Dubh meows angrily at the interruption of her sleep, as if she doesn't sleep the whole day anyway.
"I'm coming, I'm coming..." you quickly leave your bedroom and enter your small office, unlocking the door and swinging it open. "Minerva?"
"Sirius Black has broken into the school again," she tells you quickly. "Ronald Weasley said he was standing over him with a knife not too long ago."
You feel your mouth drop, unable to form any cohesive sentences as your brain tries to wrap around the information you've just gotten. "What?"
She nods, a grim look on her face. "I am terribly sorry about this...but I do need to check your room."
You nod wordlessly, opening the door for her to step in. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead..."
McGonagall does a quick sweep of your office and bedroom, stopping to give Dubh a brief few pets before she returns to your side at the door, shaking her head.
"Nothing here, of course," she says. "Will you accompany me in my search of the rest of the castle?"
You give her a confused look. "Are you sure? I thought Dumbledore doesn't want me to be involved in any searches like this...lest I sabotage it."
McGonagall scoffs. "I trust you. I know you are not stupid enough to let him into the castle, let alone let him out of your sight if you had. "
You give her a small smile. "Thanks." You grab the keys to your room and step outside, closing it behind you and locking it firmly. "Alright, let's go..."
You walk down the hallway together, wands shining light and at the ready. "How the bloody hell did he get into Gryffindor Tower? Did he attack Sir Cadogan too?"
McGonagall kisses her teeth, shaking her head in frustration. "No. Neville Longbottom was so incredibly foolish he wrote down the whole week's passwords and then left them lying around for anyone to find."
You sigh. "Oh, Neville...poor, forgetful Neville."
You scour the halls together, occasionally passing Professors Vector and Flitwick on their own search, but end up finding no trace of Sirius anywhere.
You bid goodbye to McGonagall and return to your room. As you unlock the door, you half expect to find him on the other side, but when you open it there's no one there, just your desk, messily covered with parchment and quills.
You return to your bed, but can't sleep at all so you choose to sit up and read more of the book you've been reading lately. Dubh stretches, jumping up onto your bed to nestle herself in your lap, purring softly. You pause to reach out and scratch her ears, before returning to your book.
Why was Sirius standing over Ron Weasley with a knife? It just doesn't make sense to you. You really are beginning to think he did truly go mad. And there's no way Ron dreamt it because Sir Cadogan confirmed that he did let him in...so why? Why would he do that? He wasn't actually going to murder an innocent boy like that, was he? He wasn't going to really take someone's life just like that, was he?
You reach the end of your page and realise that your eyes are just looking at the words and not actually taking them in. So finally, you step out of your bed and choose to do what you always do when you can't sleep: stargaze.
You shrug on a warm hoodie and a pair of slippers, grab your wand and leave. Dubh decides to follow and the two of you make your way up the Astronomy Tower. You sit beside the railing, legs dangling out over the edge as you grip the railing, looking up into the dark sky above. Dubh wanders around the room, sniffing various objects and rubbing up against them, before eventually she settles on curling up beside you and closing her eyes.
It's a clear night thankfully, and you can see all the twinkling stars perfectly. Beautiful, flaming objects of gas that are millions and billions of light years away from you. It's crazy to think that you are just one small, near-imperceptible speck on the ever-growing canvas of the universe. It's what drew you to astronomy in the first place. The study of space, because that's all it is. Space. That idea that, really, nothing matters at all. The world does not revolve around you. It never has, and it never will.
It's something that's always fuelled you to stop worrying about things. Why spend your time on this earth, your beautiful one-in-an-infinity chance to live, worrying about things? Though you say that, you can't help but worry anyway. You worry about Sirius, you worry about your friends, your family, your students, your godson, your cat, your job. Because even though the world doesn't revolve around you, your world revolves around the things and people you love.
A thin line of light streaks through the sky and you silently wish for peace from the thoughts that trouble you.
✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。
Security is noticeably tightened around the castle the next day. Filch is boarding up every crack and mouse hole in the castle; Flitwick teaches the front doors to recognise a picture of Sirius; and with Sir Cadogan sacked and the Fat Lady restored, big security trolls now patrol around her portrait, grunting at each other and comparing the size of their clubs.
You miss breakfast again, and tickle the pear on the fruit painting outside the kitchen, stepping inside quickly. The house elves all look up and greet you, immediately setting to work on something for your breakfast. Bitsy runs up to you excitedly, camera swinging around her neck.
"Hello, mistress!" she squeaks, holding up her camera. "Say 'cheers'!"
"Cheers...?" you say quizzically and there's a flash from Bitsy's camera.
A photo slowly emerges out the end of the camera and she shakes it excitedly, thrusting it into your face. Sure enough, there you are, mouthing the word 'cheers' with a confused expression.
You chuckle lightly, pushing the photo down out of your eye line gently. "Lovely, Bitsy. You could be a professional photographer at this rate!"
She grins wide, her big brown eyes twinkling. "Thank you, mistress!"
"Oh, and the word is 'cheese', not 'cheers', Bitsy," you say with a small laugh and she lets out a loud "Oh!".
Then you're presented with a tray of breakfast from another house elf, and you accept it gratefully as the elf bows. You sit down at a small table, tucking into a breakfast of fruit, pancakes and a great mug of tea.
You drain the mug, though you find you haven't got much of an appetite and give the house elves in front of you an apologetic look. "I'm awfully sorry, but my appetite just isn't there. Thank you all very much."
Bitsy bows with a smile. "That's okay, mistress! Bitsy is happy to help!"
"Bitsy is not the only house elf that prepared mistress's breakfast," another elf says with a scowl.
You chuckle lightly, smiling. "Don't worry, I am well aware. Thank you very much."
You turn to leave but are stopped by Bitsy. "Oh, mistress, the Headmaster told Bitsy to tell you he wants to see you in his office! He also said he really likes Bubbling Bonzies!"
You raise your eyebrows, nodding. "Oh, right. Okay. Thanks, Bitsy."
You leave, knowing well what Dumbledore wants to see you about. It's certainly not a raise in your pay, anyway. As you move through the castle, you pass Ron Weasley standing with Harry and relaying his chilling tale to a few second-year girls.
" — and I saw him standing over me, like a skeleton...with loads of filthy hair...holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches..."
You continue walking past them, shaking your head, and it's not long before you arrive outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Bubbling Bonzies," you say to the stone gargoyle. The wall starts to move and a spiral staircase is revealed to you. You make your way up and knock on the door to Dumbledore's office.
"Come in."
You push the door open, finding Dumbledore sitting at his desk and sitting in front of him, is none other than the Minister of Magic.
"Minister," you say in slight surprise, walking further into the room. Dumbledore gestures for you to sit down beside Fudge and you do, eyeing him warily.
"Now, Professor...I am sure you know why I have called you here," Dumbledore says and you nod.
"Yes, Headmaster."
"It is my understanding," Fudge says, turning his head to you, "that Sirius Black once again broke into the school and this time he successfully managed to get into Gryffindor Tower, terrifying the students there."
"You'd be right about that, Minister."
"What is your involvement?" Fudge demands, and you turn to him in disbelief.
"What is my involvement?" you repeat, glaring at him. "I didn't have any!"
Fudge scoffs. "It is more than just a coincidence that Black has managed to get into the school more than once! How did he do it?"
"I don't know, ask him!"
"Stop your denying!" Fudge snaps. "I have given you the benefit of the doubt time and time again, but I have had it up to here! Did you help Sirius Black get into this castle?"
"No, of course not!"
"Cornelius, please," Dumbledore intervenes calmly, bringing a hand up to silence the both of you. He looks at you. "Professor, please, can you tell us what you were doing last night after the Quidditch match?"
You sigh, kissing your teeth. "Alright. After the match, I went back to my quarters. I worked on a few things from my fifth-years, then I went to bed."
"What exactly did you work on?" Fudge demands.
"Essays on the relationship between Saturn's moons and its rings," you reply bitterly.
Dumbledore motions for you to continue. "Then, at around half one or so, Professor McGonagall came and informed me of the break-in. Then we searched the castle together, found no one, and I returned to my bedroom. Then I read a book, tried to sleep but couldn't, and went up to the Tower to stargaze."
"A likely story," Fudge mumbles under his breath.
"See, Cornelius? A perfect alibi," Dumbledore says.
"Perfect alibi? She was practically alone the whole time!"
You scoff. "Minister, honestly, what reason would I have to let him into the castle? Do you think I want him to go around scaring the life out of my students?"
"I — I don't know! How else could he have gotten in? He would have needed inside help."
"Take a walk, Minister. Don't you think that a man capable of breaking out of Azkaban on his own is capable of breaking in to Hogwarts on his own?"
"But — the Dementors — "
"If the Dementors didn't catch him then that's not my problem," you snap. "If they're really so hell-bent on giving him that Kiss then they ought to work a little harder."
Fudge doesn't respond.
"A lovely thing, by the way. The Dementors' Kiss."
Fudge makes a noise, halfway between a frustrated growl and a sigh. "He is a murderer. He deserves no better fate."
"No one deserves that fate other than Voldemort himself."
Fudge winces, hissing, "Don't speak that name!"
"Coward," you mutter under your breath, and Fudge doesn't hear it. "You didn't give Sirius a trial last time, why give him one this time? You're so kind, Minister."
"Please, Minister, let us put this matter to rest," Dumbledore says. "I have the utmost faith in my staff. I know she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the safety of her students."
"I really, honestly, wouldn't," you say to Fudge earnestly. "I love my job and I love this school and I love my students. I would never do anything to hurt them."
It's quiet for a moment, before Fudge speaks, "Do you still think he is innocent?"
You don't respond.
Fudge silently fumes in his seat and Dumbledore says, "I think that is enough. You may go, Professor."
You breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Headmaster." You give Fudge a parting glare and depart from the office, closing the door behind you.
→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡
✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。
->-> read chapter ten here!
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@little-box-of-autism I’m posting this ask as an image because I posted the draft before it was done teehe 🤭 anyway, enjoyyyy💅✨ also this is a full-sized one-shot now so if you want a bit of context — feel free to read the headcannon list for how Spider’s dynamic with one of the Sullys would look like if they were to be caught by the RDA together.
An outcast and a coward (Spider caught with Neteyam AU)
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“-And then he rose out of the water like some goddamn hydra and pulled me into the pond! But then I remembered about the mask so it was fine, and then we fought with Fike and Mansk but of course I won because I mean — look at me” Spider grinned sarcastically, flexing his biceps as he told Neteyam the story of what happened while he went to fish with half of the recom squad as the younger Na'vi was given the assignment of finding twigs for the fire with another group. In his excitement, the blonde failed to notice the irritation slowly creeping into Neteyam's features.
“You had a lot of fun today, haven’t you?”
“Uh huh” Spdier nodded innocently, smiling. “Turns out Miles knows how to relax after all, and he's almost bearable to be around when he is!”
“You're calling him by his first name now?” Once again, a small red flag popped up in the form of Neteyam's slightly malicious tone, but his brother missed it all the same.
“Well yeah, can't keep on calling him sir. He's not my boss or granpa, it gets awkward.”
“Yeah, real awkward...”
Finally, the human had caught on. “...is something wrong? Was Lopez being an asshole to you again?” He asked with a hint of protectiveness.
“What? No, no....I just....I don't know..” now that Teyam was forced to face the topic thst has been bothering him head on, he felt sort of uncomfortable addressing it for a reason he didn't understand. “I know we can't get on the nerves of these pricks all the time but..aren't you getting a little too friendly with the colonel?”
Spider stopped, confused and at the insinuation. “...What are you talking about? I'm not being friends with him I'm just...well, trying to make this whole captivity thing more manageable. You said it yourself: we can't just be rude all the time, it grows old and gets on their nerves...”
“That is not what I-Spider” Neteyam leaned forward to make sure that the recoms at the camp didn't hear them, as they stood on the outskirts. “These avatars are looking for our family. They want to hunt down and kill my father. You can't play house with them just because they give us basic respect.”
“"play house"?? I'm just trying to be civil! I'm sorry if I don't feel like walking around handcuffed all day!”
“Is that what you call being "civil"? Playing games and acting all cute with a literal coloniser??” Neteyam's face morphed into a frown as he seemed to be letting out an emotion he's been holding in for a long time, and seeing it made Spider feel only more agitated at his accusations. Why did this moron have to bottle everything up until it spilled over? The blonde thought, ignoring the fact that he acted the same way.
“God, so what if I had one nice moment with-“
“Don't give me that.” Neteyam cut the boy off with an edge to his words similar to Neytiri's. “You've been doing nothing but batting your eyelashes at him for like, two weeks now.” The Na'vi spat as his buried anger bubbled to the surface. “For Eywa's sake I saw him pat you on the head yesterday and you practically melted into a puddle! Does it really feel that nice to have a murderer coddle you?” Young warrior's voice was cold as his accent thickened, a feature that appeared when he was getting furious.
It cut Spider like a knife as he felt embarrassment creep up his spine, painting his cheeks red. He was trying to play it cool as best as he could, he really did. But if Neteyam noticed, did the recoms too? Did Quartich? He thought he saw him hide a smile in that moment. God, how pathetic.
“Have you forgotten what they’re after??”
“N-no I-”
“So you have no shame then??” Neteyam raised his voice in a scolding tone, attracting the attention of some recoms in the distance, but they could still barely hear the conversation. “They’re reborn murderers. That man is responsible for destroying Hometree and you sag into his touch like a stray kitten??” Neteyam watched as Spider’s shoulders dropped with his every word, but couldn’t stop himself.
For weeks on end Teyam had been living in fear that tomorrow will be the day his father will die right in front of him, the day his family will fall appart and he couldn’t keep it in any longer, couldn’t watch Spider’s treacherous behaviour.
“Well, alright, it wasn’t really him who destroyed Hometree. That Quartich is dead and had been for years, this guy is just a clone.” Spider tried to explain himself, but realised that it was a very bad decision to make as Neteyam’s face stilled in shock.
“I-what I’m saying is-he’s still a humongous piece of shit but…but he could change. Eywa recognised him when she gave him an ikran, so he he can connect to her, he can learn, he could see. He’s not a lost cause and I just…I guess what I’m trying to say is…maybe if I try hard enough…maybe he could…y’know…switch sides? And then maybe no one will have to die?”
The silence was heavy with tension as Teyam stared into Spider’s soul.
“Are you shitting me?” He spat, and Spider could already tell this was going to end badly. Neteyam had that menacing low tone that usually expanded into yelling as he slowly opened the pandora’s box and let his emotions take hold of him. “You’re excusing him??” He pointed towards the colonel in the distance, who was coming back from the river with Fike, still in a good mood from interacting with Spider.
“Wha-NO! I would never excuse his actions, but he’s not that man!” The blonde tried desperately to defend himself. This is not what the meant.
“Did he tell you that? Are you just taking his word for it now!?” The Na’vi boy yelled and now everyone in the camp were staring at the two, but he payed them no mind. “What else did he tell you, huh? What other lies have you picked up??”
“None! Jesus Teyam I’m just trying to put things into perspective!”
“He is a genocidal maniac!! There is no perspective!!! Why are you so fucking hellbent on-oh.” The warrior stopped in the middle of his lecture, fury crossing his face. “It’s because of your blood isn’t it.”
Oh no. No no no.
“All these years of teaching you about that monster’s atrocities and yet you crawled back to him the second he showed up on our doorstep? Well aren’t you loyal to a fault.” He snarled, sarcasm oozing from his words.
Spider’s voice shook. He could never be loyal to him, what would make the Na’vi even think that? “Neteyam-”
“You were one of us and yet no matter how widely we opened our arms to you, you still chose them!?”
“I did not—”
“I’d call you a traitor but that wouldn’t be true would it? You were always on their side.” Neteyam was being paranoid at this point, but Spider didn’t know how to calm him, didn’t knew how to get through to the boy through his anger and Spider’s own terrified beating heart, but the next sentence made him freeze into a statue.
“Mother was right.” Neteyam growled. “You really are a demon, no better than him.”
The recoms have caught onto their argument, but stayed dead silent in shock of what they’ve just heard. Miles was frankly at a loss for words. What made the blue brat act so aggressively? How was the colonel suppose to react? He looked at the corporal in search of any kind of advice, but he had none and only put his hand on Quaritch’s shoulder in a sign of ‘this is their business, not ours. It’ll be a bad call to intervene.’
The blonde, meanwhile, didn’t even breathe as his heart shattered into tiny pieces. He heard the villagers at high camp whisper these words, but he never expected Neteyam to join in.
How did it even come to this? Long ago, they used to be such close friends, almost inseparable.
And now his old friend was calling him a demon.
Tears formed at the corners of the kid’s eyes as he stared back at Neteyam, trying to process the words he had heard and as they truly sank in, amongst the shame and the heartbreak, an old, long buried feeling began boiling his blood. The silence between the two was deafening.
Spider looked like he was desperately searching for something, until his mind, which was currently running in circles around the hurtful things Neteyam had said, settled on a sentence.
“ "wide open arms"? When did that happen?” His voice was suspiciously calm, so calm in fact it caught the younger boy off-guard as the snarl disappeared from his face.
“What?”
“You said the Ometekaya had accepted me with wide open arms. When did that happen?”
“…What do you mean?”
“I’m asking you a question. When did the Omatekaya accept me? Because I don’t remember that happening.”
The kid looked up at Neteyam, tear tracks on his cheeks and eyes filled with hurt the Na’vi had never seen before. “In fact, last time I checked, I was just a stray animal, an annoying, dirty waste of space to the clan and the family.” His breathing hitched. “I spent years trying to prove myself. Never talking back, never responding to the hurtful things said behind my back, always turning the other cheek in hopes that one day I won’t be hated anymore.” New tears poured down as Spider slowly, painfully opened up.
“…Spider…” Neteyam stood shocked, starting to regret his previous words. When was the last time he saw Spider cry? It must have been at least a decade. He looked so vulnerable like this, so much smaller than he actually was as his defences got torn down.
“I tried, I really did, to make the clan proud, to make them see I could be worthy, and when they called me a stray, an intruder, a-a murderer in the making, I kept my head down. I tho-ught…” he sobbed. “I thought if I just made myself as convenient as possible. Maybe….maybe….you would finally recognise me again…”
The younger Na’vi stood lost for words as his heart skipped several beats and the memories he kept at bay for almost half a decade began washing over him in waves.
He recalled the day his mother, Neytiri, made it clear she did not want an heir to the Olo’teykan and a "potential killer" hanging out together. Neteyam tried going up against her before, but this time her words felt final. He took her side that day, when Spider cried and defied her, yelling with a broken, small voice that they would keep being brothers no matter what, because it was a vow they gave one another years prior, when they were only babies.
He never kept that promise and the two of them never had a proper conversation afterwards. Neteyam felt too guilty to confront the human boy, so he just pretended like they were mere acquaintances.
And he did so for years.
Until recently, that is.
Just this morning, that day felt like a hundred years ago but now, as Teyam relived that argument in his mind, it looked like it had only happened yesterday. Like Neteyam had only abandoned Spider 24 hours ago.
“But I see it now…that you never even wanted to. Not you, not miss Sully, not Mister Sully, and not the clan. You turned your backs when I made a good deed but pointed at me at the slightest mistake. You only saw me for my failures, my ancestry and you never cared.” The na’vi boy never thought words could hurt this badly but they did, as guilt ate away at him and he watched the blonde fall appart more and more with every sentence.
“You cut me loose, all of you! And I was alone for so long and I’m sorry that I can’t find it in myself to hate him! I tried my best to stay away, I promise I did!!” He cried “But-but…he is the first grownup to see me…he doesn’t have to care, has no reason to…but he does ANYWAY! I KNOW ITS WRONG BUT…” a small sob escaped him as he took ragged breaths “I…I guess…I just…wanted…to know what it’s like…to not be alone anymore…even if it’s not real…even if it’s just for one tiny moment…”
Through the blur of his own tears, Spider saw the entire recom group stare at them, their ears pinned down in pity and shame overwhelmed him as he cursed and ran off, disappearing in the trees. No one dared to follow him.
Neteyam just stayed there, on the other hand, looking at the spot where his brother the blonde had stood, paralysed by the immense shame weighting down on his chest.
It was all his fault. He knew him all his life, he should have noticed, he should have seen that something was wrong, that the hurtful words and constant exclusion from the community stung no matter how well Spider hid it.
He should have fixed it.
He should have been there for him.
.
.
.
Author’s notes: Neteyam grasping with the fact that he had neglected Spider is low-key becoming my favorite thing ✨ I don’t usually write for him but tried my best to do it in character, especially with the whole "scolding Spider although he is older" thing. ALSO IM REALLY SORRY IF THIS WAS BADLY WRITTEN I TRIED REALLY HARD I SWEAR 😭😭😭
Should I make a part 2 where they talk it out tho? 🤨
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hehe! Sorry I havn't updated this in 500 years!! i was moving! but perhaps it'll go faster now? twirls hair???
anyways
PREV
NEXT(NADA!)
TEXT UNDERCUT AS WELL AS A RECAP INCASE YOU'RE CONFUSED!
Lamb's internal thoughts: What?? Is it saying Shamura send Aym and Baal to...
That's right
flash back!! Shamura looking ashamed, about to fight the Lamb, mentions: I didn't want him.. to be ALONE..
Lamb holding their crown sword: I..I didn't understand in the moment..
Back to current, the Lamb has a sad look in their eyes, knowing the truth now: Oh Nari..
Nariander and the Fox are arguing back and fourth, when the Lamb suddenly commands for them to stop with tears in their eyes
Lamb: You were right, okay?? This was a bad idea, I should have left. The Fox can't help me..
You said so yourself! It lies!
Nariander comes to and settles down: Ah', my apologies. I almost lost myself..
Lamb embraces Nariander to his surprise, but reciprocates
Lamb: The only power is what we give it, Nari..
Nariander: I know.. I wont sacrifice anymore of my time to it
Lamb says good and Nariander separates to leave: Lets go
Lamb looking lovingly at Nari "Right behind you!" but takes a glare at the Fox and gives one last FUCK YOU for it's actions, the Lamb even though knowing the truth, equally blames the Fox and think's it's the ultimate evil for damning children
Nariander yells back: LAMB!!
lamb: coming!! (the crown morphs into a huge middle finger and lingers in the Fox's face)
just wanted a silly ending to the fox segment, I do wanna make more of this and eventually perhaps.. twirls hair.. we'll get our hybrid
RECAPS/EXPLANATION OF THE STORY THUS FAR!
so basically the Lamb was hoping the Fox would be able to help them save the lamb species with magic or something, and Nariander comes over and is like, the Fox is a jerk it'll make you think it can help you and wont, tells a story of someone of another lamb begging Nariander to undo their siblings death, essentially turning him on to the idea bringing someone back from death and creating life in general. Lamb doesn't pick this up and is like oh okay don't trust the fox because he's mean ig. Nai suggests the lamb just MAKE a lamb the old fashion way and just accept it wont be a full one, there's no one to say you can't or ummm send you the hell or something because you have babies when you're supposed to bring death, not life, Lamb says HUH WHAT?? WHAT'D YOU JUST SAY? saying Nariander was sent to his prison because he had kids, Nariander doesn't wanna talk about it so he messes with the Lamb and they sorta kinda start something going and they're interrupted by the Fox and the Fox is like STOP!!!!!!! I'll send your new babies to the after life again if you test me bitch! It was Shamuras idea btw lol, and Nariander doens't know it was his sibling that separated Aym and Baal from their mother and only blames the Fox for them being trapped with him. The Lamb knows better and courses Nariander to stop arguing with the Fox, but doesn't tell Nari that they know it realy WAS Shamura's doing, or they had something to do with it..
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hms-no-fun · 2 months
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i just want you to know that i read... i think Most of godfeels and had to stop because i was not enjoying it. but i think its really good and i really respect what you do. i think it's all too easy for people to mix up "this is not my cup of tea" with "this is bad and/or problematic". they dont take the time to see the artistry in it, why it is what it is, what it might be saying beyond their surface level read and the kneejerk reaction to it.
i also wanted to note that ive always been kind of scared of sharing fanworks for fear of writing "out of character" - and ive also even been afraid of it in original works. character isn't real and concrete, so anyone can decide something's out of character. so your exploration of that concept gives me more confidence as a writer. i really appreciate that and everything else you do. :)
thank you so much for this message! i'm glad you tapped out rather than force your way through something you weren't enjoying, that's a very mature response and something i wish more folks would recognize as a perfectly valid option. in fact i think pushing through and reading long after you've given up on the material, so to speak, is a great way to wind up angry at a writer for having "forced" you to endure such a trying experience. as i've said before, an author can't force you to do anything. you can close the book any time you like.
as far as the tension of "in character/out of character" goes, i think a lot of people in fandom struggle with the fact that "character" is very much in the eye of the beholder. sub-groups form within fandoms based on identities, politics, sexual predilections, etc, and typically gather around the fire that is their particular interpretation of a character. but from within that sub-group, it's rarely considered "an interpretation" so much as the obvious intended truth of the text. it's that intoxicating mood of finding people who share a perspective you rarely see elsewhere, like oh my god, you GET it, finally someone GETS it!
in homestuck fandom, for instance, quite a lot of people hate vriska and think she sucks, with a vocal sub-group of that sub-group still actively beating the drum that everything about her arc after [S] Game Over is the worst part of homestuck. but i love vriska, and my corner of the fandom very much organized around a full-throated defense of her. some folks think homestuck did tavros and gamzee dirty and that this is a fatal flaw in the text; when i countenance these people, i am convinced we read two very different comics. who's right and who's wrong? there are degrees. i can pull out any number of quotes from andrew hussie about the importance of vriska and the weenieness of tavros, but then, authors love to say things, and there's plenty of stories i love in ways that directly oppose to the authors' stated intent. the debate can never end because we are only ever talking about the version of a character or story that exists in our heads, based on the things that stuck with us when we read the thing (however long ago that was-- which is important because i find a LOT of people adamantly defending their headcanons haven't read the source text in a number of years. as time passes, your perception of the media you've experienced in the past morphs and distorts. someone who was right five years ago can be wrong today and not even notice the difference).
something i've realized in the last year is how much godfeels emerged from a very specific milieu, not just in terms of how we interpreted certain characters but in our approach to analyzing and talking about the text altogether. i believe most of the important stuff in godfeels is "in character" in most of the ways that matter, but it's built on a very specific meta that centered vrisrezi and transness and radical leftist politics and experimental hypertext. really, it's a post-Epilogues fanwork even despite the fact that godfeels 1 predates their release by a few weeks. and i think to this day a lot of homestuck fans haven't read the epilogues but have read fandom posts about how terrible they are (quite a lot of which will have either been written by teens, by people who already didn't like homestuck very much, or by one of the regressive stalkery weirdos prominent in the homestuck reddit/discord), and that misapprehension keeps them in the dark about just how many amazing tools the epilogues introduce to the homestuck formula that exponentially expand the expressive possibilities of attentive fanworks. and it of course elides the fact that the homestuck epilogues are a story about being in your 30s. i think we'll be getting a big re-appraisal of the epilogues in 5-10 years. it'll be the "twin peaks: fire walk with me" of homestuck, just you wait.
so these readers see my version of dirk being an unhinged murderous dick to a newly-out trans woman and go "he would never do that." then if i point at the epilogues, they'll say "i didn't read them/they're not even canon/that wasn't in character either." at which point there's nothing really to say, because we have two completely different perceptions of the text. who's right and who's wrong is almost always infinitely subjective, a circumstance that humans are notable for being very good at handling in a mature and politely discursive manner.
so i've got an "author's introduction" to godfeels baking in my docs to provide some context about the meta this story is built on, the milieu it came out of, that sort of thing. it won't make much of a difference in practical terms, but it'll at least be something i can point to.
in any event, thanks for this message. all i ever want is for people to give it an honest shot. i hope you can continue harvesting confidence from wherever it can be found. it takes a lot of audacity and backbone to be an artist, especially when you have something worthwhile to say. remember that you're not writing for the haters, you're writing for the kind of person, like you, who wants to see more stories like the thing you're writing. they're the ones who'll get it, they're the ones who'll stick around long after the haters have lost interest.
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mytheoristavenue · 10 months
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GOTG Yandere!Rocket Raccoon x Reader - The Things I'd Do
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Summary: After a mission goes ary, ending with you badly injured, you become hyper aware of Rocket's violent tendencies.
Warnings: mentions of violence, character death, revenge killing, one sided love, yandere!Rocket, overprotective!Rocket, heavy angst, not proof read
God, did your head hurt. Actually, you hadn't had a migrane this bad in a long time, certainly not since you stopped drinking so much. This was no hangover, though. Your vision was blurry, and you were tired and light headed. This was a concussion, and a pretty severe one at that. Trying to crane your neck, you took in your surroundings; the ship's infirmary. How did you get here? You could hardly remember anything, other than going on a simple mission.
"(Y/N)..." a timid voice called from the entrance to the room. "You're awake..."
"M-Mantis...?" you croaked, straining to fully sit up, only to have her rush over and worriedly push you back down.
"No, no, please stay lying down!" she fretted in a hushed tone. "You are very hurt, you have to rest."
Reluctantly, you laid your head back down fully. "Can't be that bad," you joked weakly, eyes suddenly flickering to the machinery all around you. You weren't sure how you hadn't caught on until now, but there were needles supplying various things straight to your veins, wires monitoring your vitals, and your breathing was assisted by a mask. "I-It's not that bad, right?" The woamn stood quiet, somberly gazing at her feet. "Right, Mantis?"
"You are on life supposrt." she finally confessed, glancing up at you through her lashes for a second before looking away again. "We weren't sure you would make it..."
"How long has it been?" you finally asked, facing dead ahead, too stunned to even train your sight on her anymore.
"Two weeks and four days." she replied, still stiff as a board. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just came to check on you..."
"Don't be sorry," you finally said, cracking a sad smile. "I'm glad you're here, come here me get outta all this stuff, will ya?"
For a split second, her face lit up with the same joy it usually had and she made a motion towards you, before reaching out, only to fall short. Her expression suddenly morphed into panic and she back away from you at the sound of light footsteps. When the door opened to reveal what she must've been so affraid of, you were left with more questions than answers.
"Mantis," he barked, inhaling an irritated breath. "What did I say about this room?"
"N-No one in or out but you..." she stuttered, crumpling herself up in a corner, far away from both you and him.
"So you do understand, you just choose to go behind my back? Is that it?" Rocket's fur stoof on end with aggitation, which grew taller by the second.
"N-No, Peter asked me to-"
"I don't give a fuck what Quill said, get the fuck outta here before I-" his blood suddenly ran could, robbing him of all his anger and harsh words, giving her time to escape weeping. "You're awake." With that, you held his full attention as he padded closer to you, a weak grin splitting his face as he reached your hedside, hoping up on a stool to be closer toy our level.
You on the other hand were not as overjoyed to see him as he was you. You had shot up to sit, hugginy our knees during his outburst, having never heard him that upset. You'd seen Rocket angry- furious even- tons of times, but this was...malice and it was so unlike him. "Rocket...why did you yell at Mantis like that..." you asked in a cautous whsiper.
"I'm sorry ya had to see that, doll," he started, reaching both hands out to cup your cheeks. "I just been in here takin' care of ya and I didn't want anybody to screw anything up." he explained, taking on a gentle tone as one of his thumbs stroked your cheek. "I keep tellin' 'em to stay outta here but nobody ever listens to me."
"Rocket, you were really mean to her...you really should apologize." You pressed, wiggling away form his touch. "She was just worried and checking up on me."
Rocket sighed, sctraching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, doll, when you're right, you're right. I'll find her later." he relented, hoping down and scurrying over to a nearby table to pick up the tablet that had been collecting all the data on your condition. "So, how ya feelin'?"
"Not great," you admitted. "I have a really bad headache and..." It suddenly occoured to you to try and get more information about what had happened from him. "Hey, since you've been the one taking care of me, why am I on life support?"
"Well, i couldn't just let you die, could I?" he asked rhetorically with a laugh. "Honestly, you should be thanking you for bringing you back."
"Back from where." you muttered, more as a command than a question. He chuckled nonchalantly in responce, mimicking you while shaking his head. "Rocket." you warned sternly, making him halt, rolling his eyes as he turned to face you. "Where did you bring me back from?"
"Well..." he shifted awkwardly in place, rubbing the back of his neck. "You were dead." he finally confesed, blowing right past the revellation into more gruesome detail. "You had to fuck around and get your head beat in so I had to go in and..." His voice trailed off as your focus pulled away, horror washing over you. You had never been relgious, but you knew now that this was wrong. Your skin felt like it wasn't in place and your heart begin to feel like it didn't belong to you.
Rocket- someone you trusted- had gone and dragged you back from the dead, played God, who knows what else? You began to fold in on yourself, pulling your knees back to your chest in discomfort as your stare seems miles away. He could recognize the symmtoms of your oncoming panic attack before you could and he reached out to you, scurrying closer.
"Hey, Hey, don't go and freak out on me ok?" he urged, hopping up on the bed with you. "Try not to think about it too much, you're alive after all." He continued to talk while you mentally checked out, your mind entirely broken as you studied the skin on your hand. "And this is just the half of it." he said. "You shoulda seen how many of those knuckleheads I took out for you."
It was at this moment, while Rocket began to curl up in the crevice of your side that you noticed: In the reflective surface of a nearby tool tray, one of your eyes had changed color and the was nopciable scarring covering the largest portion of your face.
"Killin, takin' care of you. You got no idea the things I'd do for you, doll face."
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r0-boat · 5 months
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Random Emmet hcs
Just a collection of random thoughts I had about him every once when I had various thoughts about him. Or things I've changed my mind about when I made posts like this similar in the past. Anyways enjoy! ( I miss writing Submas :( )
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Sfw below cut for length
Follow me on this blog for multifandom writing content (mostly Pokemon)
He's very competitive when it comes to anything with competition although he's very good at Pokemon battles, because to him winning a battle not only means better in skill and raising your Pokemon but also a bigger Bond with trainer and companion he is actually happy when he loses because it still means he has a lot to learn and grow which he is always happy to know more, and he gets to see a happy trainer and happy Pokemon celebrate their victory is there a greater reward than that? But for some reason video games he becomes a sore loser no yelling no Tantrums just silent anger stowing in his Petty thoughts he'll never act out.
He was lying on his living room floor with a blanket topped over him in a T-shirt and sweatpants when he was sick because, for some reason, the floor felt better than his own bed.
Hangs up memes around the office or sends his friends semi cursed images / memes for no reason with little too no explanation. And has a whole folder in his phone just for joltik/other bug pokemon image memes, just in case he needs to react to anything he can't put into words.
I still think he likes to play scary games but his favorite ones are the ones he gets to play with his friends and laugh at their deaths. Skyla and Emmet give each other Petty nicknames and fight with each other on the regular especially over text online and in games. They fight like siblings which is funny because image is actually really close with his brother and doesn't understand why a lot of people aren't packed with their siblings. Sometimes, your sibling's actions can get on your nerves, but their family are sometimes the only ones who can understand you.
He takes self degradation even if they're jokes very seriously.
If Emmet could he would be a full-time joltik breeder I mean don't get me wrong he probably has dozens of them but I mean those breeders that have cool morphs of like certain lizards, snake and insects. Because I refuse to believe in the world of Pokémon that they are no Pokemon that are the same species but with different patterns/ fur or scale color/ breeds etc. He tried to do it himself, but he was stopped by a certain someone
Emmet cannot have TikTok downloaded as much as he loves the app; he will spend hours and hours on it and flood his poor brother and Friends with 99+ notifications. One of the depot agent managers runs the official TikTok account, and before they post anything, both brothers have to check for inappropriate content.
Emmet is either very photogenic or takes very cursed blurry photos there is no between. They'll either be a photo that looks almost professionally done with perfect lighting with his loose tie and shirt half buttoned while another one will have the lighting making it look like his eyes are glowing while the entire photo is dark with his hand coming down on the camera with a caption that says "POV: you're a bug Pokemon"
Still trying to win Nimbasa's hottest Bachelor after his brother who had one the last 3 years in a row😔
Genshin player/bias
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