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roseykat · 6 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 9

TITLE: Don't bite the hand that feeds you

PAIRING: Seungmin x reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Featuring Seungmin as your lecturer's student assistant who runs your tutorials and possesses just as harsh a personality as he fucks.

TAGS: Mean tutor Seungmin, oral sex (f!reader receiving), unprotected sex, public sex, swearing.

KINK: Freelance

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @queenmea604

A/N: this is for all the Seungmin stans out there x

There isn’t any way to work around a more stubborn person. People that you’ve met before don’t even come close to the level of arrogance that this person carries with them. That person being one of your tutors for a class at Uni, Seungmin. For some reason, he always has the time of day to help other people but has an issue with your supposed incompetence in completing a task when it comes to you.

Seungmin never checks your work, never goes over your answers, discusses your ideas or anything like that. He has a very prickly attitude yet only those needles are only for you. You see the sigh he lets out whenever you need to approach him to clarify something he went over during the tutorial. You see the crease between his eyebrows as the annoyance grows when you ask if he can read a draft of yours before you submit it.

He never does that with other students. Seungmin is happy to help them, makes conversation with them before class, and always seems to have time for them.

The difference in his behaviour towards you definitely placed an unnecessary burden on your shoulders. But you’re not one to budge. Whether his intentions are malicious or not, you’re not exactly an easy one to crack, which is why you continued to supposedly ‘bother’ him.

“Hey,” you approach him after one of his tutorials, hoping you used a good enough manner to not light a fire under his seat. “Would you be able to check this for me?”

Seungmin furrows his eyebrows - not a good sign, and averts his eyes from the whiteboard to look at your paper, “I can’t help you with that.”

“And why is that?” You question. “You had no trouble looking at everyone else’s. How’s mine any different?”

“Judging from your grades, I’d suspect there would be a lot of differences,” he responds.

“I’ll take that as a compliment since I’m one of the top in the class thank you,” you scoff.

“And one of the top most arrogant too,” Seungmin fires back. “If you haven’t got anything relevant to show me, I suggest you leave. The next tutorial group starts in twenty minutes.”

Your face contorts slightly, “well since this isn’t relevant enough for you, is it possible for you to check over one of the drafts we have to send in on Friday?”

“Can’t do that either-“

“Then what can you do exactly?” You cut him off impatiently. “Seriously, I’ve been trying to ask you for help for the past two weeks and you’ve only ever given me vague answers to my questions and you won’t proofread any of my work which is what you’re here to do.”

Seungmin takes off his glasses and closes the distance between himself and you, “I don’t help out entitled people like you who always demand things.”

You glare up at him, “I’m not entitled. I was just merely commenting about the fact that you don’t do what you’re being paid to do.”

“And you just keep proving my point as to why you are entitled, because you don’t shut up and you always complain. After every tutorial, you come up to me and ask me for something.”

“Yeah, just like everyone else and yet, I don’t see you giving the same shit to them as you do to me,” you argue right back with him.

“That’s because you expect things to be handed to you on a silver plate. Unlike them, you don’t work for your shit with me,” Seungmin responds, placing the cap on the whiteboard marker a little bit too rough.

“Being here is me working for my shit,” you press back. “You’re just being a stubborn ass because you don’t like me.”

“Well you’re right with one thing,” he sighs.

You roll your eyes and scoff, “fuck you honestly.”

It took a lot of effort not to just shove Seungmin out of your way as you headed out the door with a fresh stormy cloud looming over your head. Felix could spot it a mile away when you went to meet up with him for lunch nearby after his class too.

“What’s wrong?” He asks carefully, studying the pained expression on your face.

“Nothing,” you sigh, trying to let it go. “Just one of my stupid tutors.”

“Is this the same one that isn’t doing his job properly?” Felix questions, remembering the conversation you both had about him a while back.

“Bingo.”

“You know, he’s probably dealing with things in the background that you don’t know about,” Felix points out, his habit of always giving people the benefit of the doubt starting to shine through.

“Yeah, pretty sure he’s dealing with ‘absolute fucking dickhead disorder’,” you spit. “And even if he was - even if the worst is happening to him, he has no right to be taking out his anger or frustration on me.”

Felix sports a disappointed look on his face, “is it just you, or are there others?”

“It’s just me, I swear.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Felix assures. “If he really is as bad as you say he is, maybe just ignore him. We’ve only got seven weeks left, that’s not too long until you can get away from him, yeah?”

It was easier said than done, because the next round of tutorials that approached in the following week, opened up that fresh wound of just seeing Seungmin’s face and dreading it. All of Felix’s advice went out the gate, almost like it was never there in the first place.

In the end, you simply chose not to speak. What’s the point in arguing with a person who won’t move?

So right after the tutorial, you don’t bother darting straight to Seungmin and asking for his help. He’s not willing to give it to you so there’s no point in lingering behind. As you pack your things up from the table and start to head out, Seungmin peers at you from behind the glasses that you so badly want to knock off his face sometimes.

He’s not entirely stumped that you haven’t approached him, but he is a bit intrigued. Maybe he had come across too strongly with you the other day - maybe within the past month without being of any help to you at all. Then again, Seungmin isn’t the most apologetic of people.

“Surprised you’re not asking me to check anything for you,” he projects his voice to you just before you leave the class.

You heard him on your way out, but what’s a retaliation going to do? Only add fuel to your own fire. Seungmin isn’t the one who’s got something to lose here. He’s just a student tutor who’s clearly got enough competence to reinforce the learning you receive during lectures. At the end of the day, his grades for this class aren’t on the line. Yours are.

“Y/N,” you hear a voice call out to you, recognising it to be Felix. Caught up in the swirl of your own thoughts, you almost forgot Felix had been waiting for your tutorial to end as he sat in a row of seats against the wall.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

“So, how was it? Did you say anything to him?” He asks as you sit down beside him.

“I just gave up,” you answer. “I forgot that you can’t get your point across to dickheads so I stopped trying. I’ll just go to the other classes' tutorials if they let me switch. Or maybe I can just cross-check my work with their tutor.”

“Geez, that bad is he?”

“The fucking worst,” you confirm.

However, you weren’t surprised to learn that Seungmin’s attitude and behaviour still continued in the following tutorial, close to an essay hand-in date which is what you didn’t need. The only saving grace is that instead of going over the content that you learned in an earlier lecture, Seungmin allowed his students to study for another upcoming in-class test in the upcoming week.

You spent that time wisely working on the essay you needed to hand in since it was the first due. Then, by two o’clock, everyone started wrapping up their study session. You slot your books into your bag, zip it up, and ready to leave.

“You, come here,” Seungmin speaks in your direction, but you really don’t want to listen. At first to begin with, you were surprised he was even talking to you.

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t be stubborn. I want to talk about your assignment,” he replies. He set his bait and waited for you to take it. So you approach him hesitantly from your chair, leaving your bag behind at the table.

“See, how hard was that?”

You roll your eyes. Not even a full conversation in and he’s already made you reach your limit, “oh go fuck yourself.”

Upon hearing your nasty sentiment, Seungmin’s hand latches quickly onto your wrist, “what did you just say?”

You look down at your arm in disbelief, then back up to him, his eyes narrowing at you, “what?”

“Say it again.”

“I said; ‘go fuck yourself.”

“Fucking brat.”

Without warning, Seungmin’s hands grasp the sides of your arms in a flash, backing you against the wall behind him. Out of nowhere, his mouth comes down and crashes against yours in a bruising kiss. There’s no time to process what’s actually going on when you start kissing him back, allowing his tongue to delve deeper into his mouth.

In the back of your mind, you can’t believe your own actions, but at the same time, pushing back on him also feels like you’re letting some of that frustration go. To take things further, Seungmin breaks away from you for a moment, turning your body by your arms, and backs you straight into the desk until your hips hit the edge.

Your first instinct tells you to lean back while your legs automatically lift so that Seungmin can slot right in, pressing his semi-hard dick against your pussy.

It gives you the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist, trying to bring him in closer as you hope for more friction. Seungmin pins your wrists down to the desk, kissing along your jaw and down to your throat where he bites and sucks until there’s a line of future regretful hickies for you to deal with later on.

“D-Do something,” you stammer, feeling so dizzy from the pleasure that you desperately start to chase.

“Why should I?” He mumbles into your skin.

You turn your head, watching figures of people pass by through the frosted glass of the door who could potentially walk in at any given time. In saying that, a portion of you recognises that there’s something so naughty about being caught in the act.

“Please Seungmin,” you beg for him, feeding into his ego.

His head rises from your neck, “that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say ‘please’.”

You didn’t care what he meant by that. All you care about is relieving that itch inside the pit of your stomach because you know that horny feeling will take a long time to dissipate. Nonetheless, Seungmin seems to listen to you when he unbuttons the first two buttons of his white dress shirt.

His fingers reach down to your jeans, unzipping them and yanking them right off your legs until you’re just left in your underwear, already soaking through. Seungmin uses the pad of his thumb to brush gently over the fabric which is sticky to the touch. It makes the corner of his mouth tug up.

“Keep quiet if you don’t want people to come in,” he warns before taking his glasses off and placing them to the side of you before kneeling down.

Your chest already starts heaving just feeling his warm breath fan across your inner thighs. The anticipation leading up to it has you clawing at the desk when Seungmin starts removing your underwear.

“Look how fucking wet you are,” he speaks from a stance of astonishment just seeing what he was able to do to you from a simple makeout session and some rough and tumble.

His comment turns you into a flustered mess that is easily shattered when Seungmin moves his mouth closer to your pussy, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer until he reaches your clit. Your back arches in an instant. One hand clasps over your mouth to stifle a loud moan at the heat of Seungmin’s mouth, the other grabs a fistful of his hair and starts tugging. He doesn’t dare hold back; sucking on your clit, lapping up at what he can to make your entire body shudder.

It never occurred to you that Seungmin is like this. You’ve always made him out to be some rich, entitled, arrogant, teacher's pet with good grades and an outstanding reputation when he goes and does shit like this – eating you out in broad daylight, in public.

Whatever rabid spirit took over Seungmin, it wasn’t stopping him. His tongue dances perfect circles and random shapes against your clit, embracing your thighs quivering shamelessly around his head.

“Oh my god, feels…feels so good,” you mutter, using every drop of energy you can to subdue the moans into whimpers.

Not even the hand you’ve been trying to use to cover your mouth is working because when Seungmin keeps building you up to that edge, you increasingly become louder. But that’s all on him for initiating this, not that you’re complaining. Not when your head is just about thrashing back behind you on the wooden surface trying to syphon all the pleasure you’re getting. It’s like rouge electricity, a live wire inside of you that has no chance of being tamed.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum,” you mumble, eyelids already fluttering. “So…good.”

Seungmin heard that as a sign to press his face further into your pussy but kept the same momentum and pace that his tongue uses to make you cum, and when you do, every ounce of pleasure pours into all the cells throughout your body. It rattles you in such a good way, that you forget how hard you’re tugging on Seungmin’s hair as he continues to eat you out through to the very end. But you managed to stay quiet – just.

Your body unstiffens and your chest heaves up and down trying to catch air. The orgasm was so massive that afterwards, you couldn’t figure out what time it was or where you were. It nearly took out every bit of consciousness you had remaining.

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he rasps.

Whatever that means – not that you can articulate it as of yet. You’re still trying to grapple with reality and when Seungmin unzips his pants to free his cock, you know there’s no point in trying.

He’s big in length and has a sizeable girth. He teases you with his tip, sliding up and down from your now oversensitive clit to your drenched hole. Just feeling how wet you are makes him wonder one thing:

“Are you a virgin?” He asks.

You’re still trying to regain a bit of consciousness, only able to muster a few words at a time, “no...no I’m not.”

“I pinned it down to either that or someone hasn’t touched you in a while,” he responds. You groan at the embarrassment. Seungmin must obviously be that experienced for him to make such an observation.

“The latter. Now just hurry up and fuck me.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin snipes, even though he begins to push his cock inside of you at a terribly slow pace.

You didn’t realise how much you had been aching to have someone inside you. Your own fingers can’t seem to do the right trick of actually feeling full and satisfied. But now that Seungmin is here, slowly thrusting in until he reaches the hilt, can he make you feel that way.

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin bites down on his lip and has to hold onto the edge of the desk beside your body for support.

He’s never felt anything like it. Even after sleeping with other women prior to you in his past, there’s something about the way you feel that isn’t like the rest. Maybe it’s from the fact that you hadn’t been touched in a while or not, either way, Seungmin can’t contain himself when he starts thrusting properly.

His cock glides in like melted butter, the lewd wet sounds making you want to hide from embarrassment. But Seungmin revels in it like it’s about to slip through his fingers like sand. So he lowers his body onto yours, resting some of his weight comfortably on you. It’s intimate yes, but it enables Seungmin to start whispering things in your ear.

“So fucking wet for me, aren’t you?” He purrs. “Such a good girl for taking all of my cock, especially for someone who hasn’t been touched in a while. Just opened up for me so easily.”

No words could ever spring to your mind in response to that, but it causes your body and mind to have a reaction you’re all too familiar with from about five minutes ago. That tingly feeling starts creeping up inside you the longer Seungmin keeps fucking you. His cock repetitively hits such a deep sweet spot that you don’t think anyone’s ever reached before.

“S-Seungmin…it feels…fuck it feels so good,” you moan right in his ear, your arms clinging to his back.

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “I bet it does with the way that you’re clenching around me.”

Seungmin just keeps finding ways to unintentionally embarrass you, but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you and himself, it’s that he likes seeing you so flustered. He thinks it’s cute. In saying that, he doesn’t want to get too caught up in things when the euphoria that has already built itself impossibly high starts making itself known.

Just like you, Seungmin feels too good right now. He’s doused in warmth from the heat wrapping around his cock and the way that your walls keep involuntarily clamping around him.

“S’too much…” you gasp for air, fingers digging into his clothed arms at this point. “M’gonna cum again please.”

Seungmin presses himself up away from your body but still thrusting at his same pace, “go on then. I want to see your face when you do.”

It washes over you quickly and he’s fast to clock onto the small reactions beginning to change. The only thing that doesn’t alter is the fucked-out look you have on your face. That remains all the way up until the bliss starts packing its punch. Seungmin’s hips don’t hamper your orgasm, not when he watches your eyes roll back and sees the words to describe how you’re feeling become lodged in your throat.

“Y-Yes!” you call out, your voice echoing throughout the empty classroom. Your wet walls convulse around Seungmin’s cock, clutching onto him for dear life as you cum hard.

“I suppose that’s why you cum so easily, huh?” He asks, catching his breath. “Because nobody’s been touching you? Poor thing.”

Your cheeks burn a bright red as Seungmin continues to fuck you, right up until he’s had his fill. Regardless of how overstimulated you are, he can’t stop because he’s nearly there. His hips stutter forward a few times as he chases the tail of his orgasm, getting hit with it right at the last second.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he lowers his head, watching where his cock keeps disappearing into and listening to your whimpers. It’s all enough to tip him right over the edge and into a pool of warm euphoria. “Yes – fuck!”

With a few more grunts and thrusts, Seungmin slows right down as he cums inside you. For a split second there, his vision started to go splotchy. It reminded him of the fact that he hasn’t cum that hard in a while. In saying that, you get to bask in the warm sensation that fills your lower half.

“Shit,” he gasps, breathing heavily. In the back of his mind, something told him that he shouldn’t have done that. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you swallow, trying to dampen your dry throat. “You’re lucky I’m into that.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle and for the first time, you’ve actually seen Seungmin genuinely smile.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I kind of want to make a part 2 to this but reader finds out that she’s pregnant lmao

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #bang chan x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #i.n x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader

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ikkosu · 18 days

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Archie's @archie-sunshine knightformer's prowl brain rot (drabble) inspired by @pinkanonwrites I am so soft for him.

(this was supposed to be tagged along with the drawing but I forgor omghr🙉)

Little fairy would stick to prowl like glue : perching on his shoulders, tugging on his cape even though he explicitly states he does not like it.

They're such pests. So playful, always petty and, unfortunately, even his bland disposition is unspared as he managed to nabbed one of their attention.

"Space. I need space." He'd clip out and a little waggle of his hands would try (gently ) to deter them elsewhere.

Fairy only latched onto his fingers, breedling with a huge smile before proceeding to do exactly what he had told them not to : invading his space.

"Oh, for — Primus's sake. I don't have time for this."

Though, despite his chastise, he never says a word when they'd burrow on the spot between his shoulder and the underside of his chin.

He finds the little bundle of warmth, purring and nestling on the crook of his neck, a sedative to his usual taut, coiled-up irritation to the world.

And, he'd relent, a finger tapping on their plush little cheeks as they squeal and play around with his hand.

In his office, he'd built a mini-fairy spot just for them, since they're so hell-bent on following him everywhere ( fairy followed him almost seven miles without his knowledge when he was travelling from village to village for a job)

That's the most concerned kind of look you can get out of prowl.

While he's tinkering away at his paperwork, from his periphery, the sparkled puffs of yellow would dart around in their make-shift fairy abode.

Paper work would be an excruciating endeavor if not for his little companion keeping him sane. They'd waddle across his desk, pushing his quill pens neatly into place, arranging his documents and stationaries Prowl doesn't seem to mind. In fact, as long as they don't bother his work — fairy is welcomed to stay.

"That's a little too heavy, no?" He raises a brow at the sound of strained huffing.

Fairy, with their whole body against an inkpot, struggles to push it to where it lays below his hand. For better reaching, he assumes.

"Keep going, then." He muses and doesn't notice the scrunched up pout darted his way.

Sometimes when his migraine wouldn't let up, he'll saunter over to the alcove and observes the little fairy as they potter away.

If they're not asleep, often times they'll breedle and chatter off to him as though they know the same language. often times prowl just nods and follow what they tell him to do : like, say, planting mini-ferns in their mini-garden.

And, he'll have to just make a hole with a simple tap of his index. Fairy seems incredulously envious of that.

If they're asleep, gently, they're scooped into his palms and he'd saunter to his bedroom where he nestles them on the plush cushion of the blanket. He kicks of his boots, put down his sword and after changingi nto something comfortable, he goes under the covers.

With fairy close to his neck, his hand gently curls over them like shelter and slumber drifts them off, and away, to sleep.

#i want more stuff on this man #prowl yearning hours #PROWL YEARNING HOURS #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #prowl x reader #idw prowl #transformers idw

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thefangirlfever · 3 months

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Miguel O'Hara x Nanny reader (headcanons)

Part 3

Tags: fluff, alternative universe, domestic fluff, idiots in love, mutual pinning, very self-indulgent, Miguel being a girl's dad, slightly suggestive at the end, dad bod Miguel (I'm coming back to my roots)

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• reader who is always amazed at how patient and soft Miguel can turn when he is with him daughter. He is genuinely a girl's dad. Since you have never known this type of closeness with your own father, you're always surprised when you see him crouching down to talk with her, lifting her up every time she is tired or just to annoy her (in a cute way) or even plays with her

•Reader who also admires how he tries to teach his daughter Spanish and make her proud of her heritage.

• Reader who ended up learning a few Spanish words and even understood what Miguel said once, which made him smile in a way that made her feel almost giddy.

• Reader who learns how to cook Gabriella's favorite sweets and treats, like cookies, pancakes and brownies. Before each of her games, you always make her favorite dish. You even learned how to cook some of Miguel's favorite dishes, especially empanadas.

• You once found a drawing made by Gabriella of her, her father and you, which again made you feel a certain way you couldn't really describe.

• Gabriella offering you some of her drawings from time to time. You keep them preciousely and even pins some of them on the fridge at your place.

• The fridge at their appartment is also covered in Gabriella's drawings but also sticky notes, grocery lists and Miguel's planning.

• Miguel once found the two of you playing in Gabriella's room. You don't know how but she managed to get you all dressed up as some princess with one of her fake tiaras and glitters all over your face.

• Miguel who quietly laughs when he sees you sitting in his daughter's room, surrounded by plushes pretending to be having tea time, until Gabriella latches on him and he ends up sitting on the floor too, fairy wings attached on his back. And you're the one laughing now.

• You end up cleaning Gabriellas face from all the glitters and when you're all alone you wash your own face, clean off the glitters. Miguel watches you from the door of the bathroom, his usual stern expression only troubled by the soft look in his eyes. You catch him looking at you in the reflection of the mirror and the two of you share a quiet laugh, amused by Gabriellas ability to turn you into such fools, and yet loving it.

• You laugh at how ridiculous you look with the glitters on but he doesn't, not because he is unamused but because he doesn't think you're ridiculous. He genuinely finds you gorgeous with the glitters on, especially when he sees how they highlight your face, your cheekbones and your eyes.

• Gabriella who was a bit shy at first slowly turns more comfortable with you. At first she just talks about her day at school, then her soccer practices (you already know all her friend's names after a few weeks) and finally she even feels comfortable enough to talk with you about her mother.

• That one time when you had to hide from Miguel what present Gabriella had made at school for Father's day. He tries to bribe you into telling him (and it's the same on Christmas or for his birthday). You can't believe how childish he can be at times and that makes you slowly laugh.

• Reader who has noticed how Miguel has stopped wearing his wedding ring after that awkward moment in the kitchen between you. None of you talked about this ever since but this moment has been on your mind since.

• You can't quite put it into words but the atmosphere has changed ever since between you. It's true that Miguel is a very charming man but you've never thought about it this way, especially since he is your employer.

• But every time the two of you end up being alone, you can't deny that your thoughts are far from those you're supposed to have concerning your employer. But it's not your fault that every time he comes hom from work, your eyes can't leave him. You watch him tacking his jacket off, watching his whoulders flex slightly and then undoing his tie. It's not your fault that even the slightest hint of his skin makes you feel like seeing the Sun for the first time.

• It's not your fault that every time you get a whiff of his cologne when he gets too close, you imagine him wrapping his burly arms around you, pressing you against his broad chest and keeping you warm and secure.

• It's not your fault that every time he shows concern for you, your health or just wants to make sure you're not too tired from all your work, you feel a huge wave of gratefulness (and maybe even more) hit you.

•It's not your fault that every time you feel tired, every time you feel like giving up, his smile flashes into your mind and you suddenly feel an unusual warmth fill you up and you can practically hear him cheering you up.

• It's not your fault if that one day you came too early at their place and when Miguel opened the door, still half-asleep, hair dissheveled, still unshaved and wearing nothing but gray sweatpants you felt your heart sink in your chest.

• Hearing Miguel's sleepy voice apologizing, saying that he overslept, which never happens, had an effect on you that you were too ashamed to acknowledge. Since that day, you couldn't stop picturing him just the way he was that morning. No matter how hard he would try to look put together in his tailored suits, you would only remember his drowsy looks, deep voice in the morning and how good his plush skin looked in the moment. Needless to say that the thoughts this image inspired you made you feel quite guilty afterwards. But you were not strong enough to resist imagining you running your hands over his wide frame, hairy chest and smooth back... You were not strong enough to resist imagining your hands wrapping around his neck while he would crush you under his weight, nor imagining the way your fingers would slip under these useless layers of fabric...

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I don't know why I have struggIed so much writing the last part 😖. I hope this wasn't too cringe to read. I'm currently working on the fourth (and last) part.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse #astv miguel #atsv miguel #atsv #fanfic #miguel x reader #dad miguel o'hara

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jungle-angel · 5 months

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The Bookworms' Nest: Part 2 (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Even over the holiday break, you and Bob always find a way to make your home your own cozy nest and prep for a lesson in between

Warnings: Mentions of breastfeeding, mentions of pregnancy etc.

Tagging:@bobfloydsbabe

You hummed along to the Christmas music playing from the little bluetooth speaker in the kitchen as you set up all of yours and Bob's Christmas decorations. Auggie lay right next to you on his little sleeping cushion, wriggling and stretching his arms and legs and his coos reaching your ears.

"Pumpkin for the last time, OUT!" Bob thundered from the home library.

With a cheeky little meow, you spotted your black cat trotting out from the library with the usual amount of neon pink sticky notes still stuck to her fur as Bob wheeled the chalkboard out of the library and into the living room.

"Still taking notes?" you chuckled.

Bob rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'm telling you (y/n), The Silmarillion is almost IMPOSSIBLE to dissect," he said. "How the hell are we supposed to do a main lesson on this?"

"I've been asking myself that same question since the beginning of the lesson block," you chuckled.

Bob let out a loud, annoyed groan and rolled his eyes. "Can we at least do a practice run with it?"

"Bob we're on vacation until January," you laughed. "You really wanna focus on that right now?"

"Baby I just wanna keep the skills sharp," Bob answered.

You were about to say something when Auggie began to whimper and Pumpkin began meowing as she curled around the baby's little sleeping cushion. "Well, somebody's hungry," you chuckled.

"The boob or the bottle?" Bob asked you.

"Bottle's in the fridge, just needs to be warmed up."

In a flash he was off and returned a minute later. "C'mon buddy, I've gotcha," Bob said to Auggie, carefully lifting him into the curve of his elbow before Auggie eagerly latched onto the bottle and sucked it back.

Bob smiled at the tiny little baby in his arms, his face half hidden by both the bottle and the white Irish knit blanket that had once been Bob's when he had been that little. You and Bob of course had considered your students at school to be like your own kids, so when you had found out that you were pregnant with Auggie, it was almost as though sixteen other teenagers were gaining a baby brother.

You took a break from setting up the decorations to throw another log into the fireplace, the flames crackling as it spat embers and sparks up the chimney, but oh was the house toasty and warm as ever. You began putting out some of the little needle-felted snowmen, gnomes, fairies and figurines that you and some of the kindergarten and preschool teachers had made for the Christmas and Yuletide fair at school. Of course Bob's favorite was always the little Celtic Santa in his green robes and twisting, knotty staff that Bob's Meemaw had made long before he was born.

"Shhhhh, my little lovebug," he whispered, gently patting Auggie's back. "Go back to sleep, it's cold out and Momma and Daddy need to do their thing too."

Bob very carefully placed Auggie back onto his sleeping cushion but Auggie's whimpers still didn't cease until Bob gently placed his hand on his son's little belly, calming him in an instant.

"What?" he asked when he saw the look on your face.

"Bob......?"

"Ah! Hold it, you remember what Doctor Zimmer said," Bob informed you. "She specifically said no sex for six weeks after birth."

You mouthed a curse which had Bob both smiling and wiggling his eyebrows. "Alright, I'll put him upstairs for a nap and then we can get down to business," you said.

As soon as Auggie had been brought upstairs and tucked into his warm nest of a crib in his nursery, you were back downstairs to finish decorating and help Bob with his lecture.

"Alright babes," he said, finally having finished wiping down the chalkboard with a wet rag. "What's the first part of the book?"

"Ainulindalë, the creation of Eä and the birth of the Valar," you answered.

Bob drew in a breath and let it out. "You ready for this marathon?" he chuckled.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you laughed.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #teacher!bob floyd #teacher!bob x teacher!reader

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anxiouspineapple99 · 7 months

Text

She's Such a Scream

ARC Trooper Jesse x Reader

Warnings and tags: SMUT; exhibitionism; oral sex; threesome; Jesse and Kix being a tag-teaming menace to society; angst; canon compliance; you came here to have a good time and you’re probably going to feel very attacked; death; bad ending; no happy ever after (I’m sorry). Important: If you want to pretend it ends happily, stop reading after the second "don't scream" divider.

Word count: 3.4K

Suggested listening: "Such a Scream" by Tom Waits

The neon lights of 79’s were even more garish than usual, flashing orange and purple as strobe lights illuminated the hazy smoke that filled the club. Bodies crowded the dancefloor, the bar, and every single table and booth in the building. Curiously, not a single piece of armor was visible except for the Corries stationed by the front door to make sure the crowd didn’t get out of control. Instead, ghouls and monsters of every imaginable description thronged together to the beat of the music—a live band tonight, playing deceptively upbeat songs with subtly horrifying lyrics.

Your friends danced near you, each of them dressed up as the sexy version of creatures and monsters and demons from fairy tales and folklore. Anan was a sexy rancor; Latik was a sexy ghost; Miria was a sexy zombie; Biala was a sexy weremassiff. You didn’t tell them that tonight, for the first time since you’d met any of them, you weren’t wearing a disguise.

“Stars, you look great!” Anan shouted. “What’s your costume supposed to be, again?”

You drew a breath to respond, when suddenly, a towering droid lunged out of the crowd and roared in your face. You blinked.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

The droid visibly deflated as the vampire in medical scrubs next to him laughed, “I told you it wouldn’t work, vod!”

“What wouldn’t work?” you asked.

“He’s been trying to scare cute girls all night,” the vampire doctor replied. “I told him civvies don’t know enough about commando droids to be scared of his costume.”

Latik sidled up to the vampire doctor and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m afraid of vampires. Are you going to bite me?”

The doctor gave her a seductive, fanged smirk. “That depends. What blood type are you?”

“Type orenth-negative!” she giggled.

“Ah, the universal donor!” he said, ratcheting up the charm. “Have you considered donating? The GAR is always in short supply.”

“That depends,” Latik simpered. “Will you be the one collecting?”

“I’ll be working a shift at a blood drive at GAR headquarters on Taungsday,” he said.

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Latik asked, confused.

“Stop doing that, Kix!” the commando droid groaned, shoving the vampire doctor. “Why can’t you just flirt like a normal person?”

“Has he tried that more than once?” you asked.

“He’s been doing it all kriffing night,” he sighed, removing his mask to reveal a clone trooper with a large Republic cog tattoo and the kindest brown eyes you’d ever seen.

Oh, no, he’s hot!

“Why is a commando droid hanging out with a dude whose tattoo says, ‘A good droid is a dead one’?” you laughed.

He looked into your eyes very seriously. “Mesh’la, do you… not know what a ‘costume’ is?”

You couldn’t help it; you let out a peal of laughter that drew the attention of multiple dancers. You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle it, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from dancing with amusement, and the clone shot you an answering grin that made him somehow even cuter.

“I’m Jesse,” he introduced himself. “This di’kut is Kix.”

“When you said you were going to make her scream, I didn’t think you meant, ‘scream from laughing at you,’” Kix teased.

“It takes more than that to make me scream,” you said.

“Oh?” Jesse’s eyes gleamed with speculation. “Shall I take that as a challenge?”

“You can take it however you want,” you replied provocatively.

His eyes drifted to your lips as he leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I bet I could make you scream.”

“I doubt that,” you murmured. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“By any means necessary?” he asked, tracing his fingertips up your bare arm.

“Any way you want,” you agree. “Your choice.”

“And what do I get when I win?” he asked, standing close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent.

“You name the prize,” you replied. “It’s never going to happen, so you can ask for anything in the galaxy.”

He grinned. “Game on.”

He looked at Kix, who danced alone as he watched the two of you, Latik having drifted away to find a dance partner who wouldn’t try to exsanguinate her. Some unspoken communication passed between the two clones, and Kix immediately joined you, dancing close to you as Jesse moved to cage you in from behind. The dance floor was crowded and hot, and it got even hotter as the two troopers sandwiched you in between them.

Jesse’s hands slid onto your hips, moving you to the beat but otherwise staying perfectly still until you rested your hands over them, encouraging him to explore you. He pressed close to you, his broad chest against your back as his hands roamed over your body. Kix met your eyes questioningly, and when you nodded your permission, he moved in, joining in Jesse’s explorations.

Kix was very good with his hands, and the feeling of two gorgeous clones caressing your entire body was overwhelming. You tilted your head back to rest on Jesse’s shoulder, and Kix pressed his open mouth to your chest, drawing his tongue over you, leaving a hot, glistening trail as he licked the sweat off your skin. His fangs scraped softly against your neck as his hands stole up your back and held your torso close to him. With Kix’s body shielding you from the view of the other dancers, Jesse slid his down to your hips and beneath your waistband, dipping lower and lower, until he found your clit and began to toy with it softly. You could feel his cock pressing against your ass, hard as a karking rock, as he teased you.

“He’s gonna get caught,” you murmured in Kix’s ear.

“That’s the idea,” Kix replied. “Hasn’t happened yet, but he keeps hoping.”

“Holy kriff,” you whispered, feeling a rush of arousal at the thought.

Jesse felt it immediately, and you could feel his groan reverberate through his chest as he pressed against you, sliding his fingers deeper into your slick heat.

“You like that idea?” he asked, dropping his mouth to the other side of your neck. Your legs nearly gave out as both clones kissed and sucked and licked and nibbled on your sensitive skin. “Gonna scream, mesh’la?”

“Not even close,” you replied. “You’ll have to do better than that, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” he asked, sounding adorably hopeful.

You turned your head to press your lips against his ear. “The prettiest.”

His hands ceased their blissful teasing and withdrew from your waistband, and that very nearly kriffing did make you scream—in frustration. Without a word of explanation, he tugged you toward the edge of the dance floor and down the darkened hallway. He located a convenient stack of crates to serve as nominal cover, and then he pushed you against the wall, beginning an all-out siege on your body. He was incredibly thorough in his attentions, massaging your breasts, sucking and biting your skin, pinning your hands to the wall as he kissed and licked his way from your wrist to your shoulder, and finally dropping to his knees to feast on your cunt. The second his tongue slid into you, he let out a loud grunt as though he’d been starving, and your taste was the only thing that could satisfy his hunger.

“Oh, fuck, Jesse,” you gasped.

He slid his fingers into you and began to fuck you with them as he looked up at you. “Say my name louder so nobody wonders who it is that makes you scream.”

As he pleasured you with his hands and mouth, he made you writhe; he made you moan; he made you sigh and groan; and finally, he made you come—but he never made you scream.

At the end of the night, he asked if he could see you again.

“Far as I’m concerned, the bet’s still on,” he grinned. “You give up now, that means you forfeit.”

How could you refuse such an argument? You gave him your comm channel, and he messaged you before you even made it back to your flat. You met up for breakfast the next morning with your disguise safely back in place, nursing hangovers, and after eating your bodyweight in greasy fried protatoes and scrambled nuna eggs, you took him back to your flat to give him another chance to win the bet.

He didn’t make you scream, but you still felt like you’d hit the jackpot. He had incredible stamina, and his body was a Force-damned work of art, with a cock that made you believe in a higher power. He made you come three times before you both passed out to sleep off the remnants of your hangover. When you woke up, it was dinnertime, and it seemed only polite to invite him to stay, considering that he’d worked up an appetite with you.

He offered to cook for you, and despite your reservations, dinner was shockingly delicious: a hearty salad with some kind of roasted bean thing. There was a brief, perilous moment when he started to break down the nutritional macros of the meal, but he saw your eyes glaze over and quickly changed the subject.

“I can’t believe it’s already dark,” he commented.

“Yeah, it’s the worst part about this time of year. It gets dark so early during Coruscant autumns.”

He looked at you speculatively. “You know, it’s not safe to walk home alone in the dark. Who knows what kinds of monsters might be lurking out there?”

You laughed, first of all at the idea that the ARC trooper would ever be afraid of… well, anything, and secondly, because he had no idea that you were more deadly than anything that could possibly be hiding in the shadows.

“It’s so true,” you replied gravely. “Maybe you ought to stay here until morning. You know, for safety.”

“Wouldn’t want to impose…” he said. “All right, you talked me into it.”

He did have to leave the next morning, regrettably, but he came back to you on his next shore leave, and the one after, and the one after that. You knew it was dangerous; you knew the risk was too great, but by the time you realized you’d fallen in love with him, it was too late to do anything about it.

Time marched on. The bulk of the GAR was sent back to the Outer Rim sieges, and he couldn’t hide in the safety of your flat forever, as much as you wanted him to. You wanted to chain him to your bed where you could protect him from any threat; you wanted to spend every morning distracting him while he cooked breakfast; you wanted to spend your days mapping the angles and lines of his incredible body.

Unfortunately, as powerful as you were, not even you could hold back the tide of the war. Jesse left; he came back; he left again. You didn’t even have the luxury of tracking his unit, since as an ARC trooper he was sent wherever he was needed, rather than being embedded permanently with any one division. Whenever he had shore leave, he spent it with you, next to you, inside you, wringing every drop of comfort and pleasure that he could from your time together.

You had never eaten so much protein and vegetables in your life as you did when he was home. Honestly, you’d never eaten so much home-cooked food, period. He despised the mess hall food, and he seized every opportunity to cook—sometimes just for the two of you, and sometimes for Kix as well, on those nights when the medic joined you. You loved those nights. The two clones knew each other so well that they could communicate without speaking a word, and they put that skill to devastating use when bringing you to unimaginable heights of pleasure. Jesse’s raw power combined with Kix’s skilled hands and extensive knowledge of anatomy made them a lethal duo, and you would die before you admitted it, but Jesse came very close to winning the bet on those nights.

Other days, you and Jesse would spend your time exploring Coruscant’s vast markets, or snuggled up on the sofa playing sabacc, or competing to see who could quote the most lines from your favorite holodramas. He woke up before you every morning to go for a run, and he found creative ways to work out at home so he didn’t have to spend time away from you at the gym.

“Sit on my back while I do push ups,” he said one day.

“I’d rather sit on your face,” you teased.

“We can do that later.”

“What if I lie on the floor beneath you, and you kiss me every time you lower down? I love it when we do that,” you suggested.

“It’s too distracting, and I want the extra challenge today,” Jesse replied. “Hop on, babydoll.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you objected.

“You won’t,” he smirked.

In all honesty, his level of fitness was intimidating, and it sometimes made you insecure about your own body.

“What?!” he asked, flabbergasted when you shared this with him. “Why would you ever be insecure? You’re the most gorgeous kriffing thing in the galaxy!”

“How can you say that when you look like… you know… that?” you asked, gesturing to his godlike person.

“First of all, I look exactly like a few million other men. Nothing special.” He held up a hand when you began to protest, and he continued, “You are unique and stunning, and I love everything about your body because it’s beautiful and new and exciting and yours. I love learning all of the secret places that make you whimper and moan, and I swear by the Force, I am going to find the one that makes you scream. Some day.”

“Well… shit,” you said, rendered speechless by his uncharacteristic eloquence. “Then why are you so into fitness and clean eating? Not that I don’t appreciate the fruits of your labor.” You took a moment to ogle him shamelessly, and he preened under your attention.

“It’s not about looks,” he said. You arched a skeptical brow, and he amended, “It’s not entirely about looks. I stay in peak condition so I can be as effective as possible—so I can save as many of my brothers as I can.”

Your heart twisted, knowing how heavily the loss of those he couldn’t save weighed on him. And then one day, he came to you triumphantly, spinning you around until you were dizzy and breathless as he told you about the lost clone they’d been able to save, and their subsequent decisive victory on Anaxes. He was nearly beside himself as he described the daring, unsanctioned rescue mission and the recovery of a fellow ARC trooper named Echo. His face was alight with hope that in the future he could save more brothers that the GAR had given up on.

Three days after Jesse left on his next deployment, the nightmares began. You dreamed of blood and fire; of unendurable pain; of tortured, broken minds not under their own control; of the slaughter of innocents. When you woke up, you knew you’d been screaming in the night, because every piece of glass in your flat had shattered.

You cleaned up the mess and commed Jesse. He didn’t answer. A few days later, he sent you a brief message, telling you how much he missed you and that he couldn’t wait to see you soon. You waited. The nightmares grew worse, and you stopped trying to replace your glassware, investing in durasteel cups instead.

One day, after weeks of loneliness and disappointed hopes, you returned home from work to find Jesse sitting alone in the dark in your living room. You threw yourself into his arms, holding him close, and his arms tightened around you desperately, like a vise.

“Jesse!” you cried in shocked delight. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home!”

He didn’t speak, but his body began to shake uncontrollably.

“Jesse?” you whispered. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He buried his face against your neck and began to sob—awful, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked his entire body, as though his soul itself were crying out in anguish. You knew, because you’d heard the screams of tormented souls before.

“Kix,” he choked out.

Your heart stood still. No. Impossible. You would have known.

“What happened?” you whispered.

“Gone.”

“How?” you asked.

He shook his head, still not pulling away from you. “MIA. That’s all they’d tell me.”

“Jesse,” you said quietly. “He’s not dead. We will find him.”

He froze, then sat back to look into your eyes. “How do you know that?”

You swallowed, unable to tell him the truth. “I can’t explain how I know. You just have to trust me. If Kix were truly gone, I would know.”

And so would everyone else in this quarter of Coruscant, you added mentally. Nobody could have missed the screams.

Jesse could only stay for two days that time, and you spent his entire leave trying to comfort him. You couldn’t tell him your secret, and without evidence, he didn’t believe you. He pretended to, but you saw the hope die in his eyes, and it made you want to tear the galaxy to pieces.

He was dispatched again, this time to some godforsaken place called Yerbana, and from there, who knew. Your dreams became worse—more specific—and this time, Jesse had a starring role. You saw fearsome stripes of red and black, and glowing yellow eyes. You felt the terror and the pain, you sensed his mind being ripped apart and put back together, and when you awoke, fissures had opened in the walls of your flat.

The holonews reported that your neighborhood had experienced minor localized seismic activity, though nobody could explain how such a thing was possible. Experts attributed the damage to instability in the understructures of the level, and a committee was formed to investigate the phenomenon. They found nothing.

And then the day came. Clone troopers marched in the streets. The Jedi temple burned, and the sound of screaming was all around you. You could feel it welling in your throat, but you pushed it down with all the strength in your body. For hours, you and your coworkers watched the holonews, transfixed and horrified as the official reports began to come in: the Jedi had committed treason and were all to be hunted down and destroyed. The Republic was gone, and in its place, an Empire.

At last, you left your workplace and began to walk home. Your coworkers urged you to stay with them—they said it wasn’t safe to be out on the streets, not with all the violence and upheaval, but you insisted. You hurried through the shadows under a red sky, avoiding the clanking plastoid phalanxes of troopers who swarmed the streets. You were nearly home when it began.

Your mind saw fire, and hundreds of blaster bolts. You saw glowing blades. You heard the sickening shriek of rending durasteel, the cries of men dying around you. You felt the world shudder and shake around you, and then nothingness. A ragged scream tore from your throat, knocking you to your knees as your head snapped backward. Every window and viewport as far as you could see shattered in an instant, the shards suspended in the air at the force of your uncontrollable scream. Droids sparked and exploded. Beings of all species curled into fetal positions, hands covering ears, writhing in agony and vomiting from pain, and still you screamed.

The deafening wail echoed through the quarter as buildings began to collapse around you, but you couldn’t hold it back. It ripped its way out of you, pulling all the air from your lungs, wreaking destruction and agony and death, and still you screamed, until nothing but emptiness remained, and the galaxy descended into darkness.

---

A/N: In case you haven’t already figured it out, the reader is a banshee, a ghost/spirit from Irish folklore whose screams foretell the death of a family member or loved one. I imagined a Star Wars version where her screams are an uncontrollable destructive force unleashed by the death of someone she loves—which is how she knew Kix was still alive (though frozen in stasis), and how she knew Jesse was dead.

#pineapple's 2023 halloween party #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse x reader #monster au #clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #dystopicjumpsuitwrites

#submission #pineapple’s 2023 halloween party #dystopicjumpsuit writes #arc trooper jesse #arc trooper jesse x reader #monster au #sw tcw fanfic #Spotify

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vodika-vibes · 13 days

Text

Every Time We Touch

Summary: Your relationship with Crosshair and Tech, before Order 66 and after.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Jedi F!Reader x TBB Tech

Word Count: 4987

Warnings: Smut. Oral (male and female receiving). Some Dom/Sub dymanics.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This has been a labor of love that took me, in total, almost 16 hours to write. The first part is smut, the second part was going to be smut but I decided it didn't make sense with everything that happened. It has not been edited aside from a very rough spellcheck. Happy reading~

It’s easy, losing yourself in the ebbs and flows of the force. Especially here, on a planet largely untouched by the war.

The Marauder landed here three days ago, with the plan being that you’d move on as soon as you got a new set of orders. Only, those orders still haven’t come.

And, as much as Hunter might hate it, you decided that you needed to get off the ship, even for a little while. It’s not as if they’re going to leave without you, after all.

So here you are, sitting next to a stunning little pond with a waterfall roaring in your ears, meditating. Or, well, you’re supposed to be meditating, but really, you’re considering whether or not you’d like to go swimming.

You absently tap your fingers against your knee, before coming to a decision. It’s not like anyone is going to bother you, not at this time of night. So you unfold from your sitting position and quickly tug your clothes off.

You set them neatly on a rock, with your lightsaber and comm perched on top of the clothes, and step into the cool water. You wade out until you’re waist deep and then you dive into the water.

This is exactly what you needed, the water feels amazing against your skin, and with the moon high in the sky, it almost feels like something from a fairy tale. You know, if fairy tales generally involved skinny dipping.

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a low chuckle from the shore, and you smile when you see a familiar figure standing next to the rock holding all of your clothes.

Crosshair lightly plucks your panties from the pile on the rock and dangles them from one long finger, before his sharp gaze finds you in the water. “Funny,” He practically purrs, “I didn’t know that there were mermaids on this planet.”

You laugh softly and swim closer to shore, until you’re able to stand on your toes, “What brings you out here, Cross?”

He absently folds your clothes and stacks them a little neater than you did, “You, of course. You weren’t in bed.”

“I needed a moment off the ship. Hunter’s practically radiating anxiety.” You answer with a shrug.

“Well, I can just about guarantee that if he knew you were swimming, naked, in a lake he’d probably have a heart attack on the spot.”

“Um…well…he doesn’t need to know?” You offer sheepishly.

“Oh definitely.” Crosshair agrees, as he peels his shirt off and sets it on the rock next to yours, “Especially since I’m joining you.”

You laugh, “Are you?”

“What? You think you’re the only one who needs a break?” Crosshair finishes stripping off his blacks, and sets them on the rock. He pauses and then sighs and grabs his comm, shooting a quick message.

You tilt your head in question.

“You’ll get pouty if Tech doesn’t join us.” He explains as he steps into the water and walks out to you. The moment he’s close enough, he pulls you into his arms, and bumps his forehead against yours.

“I do not pout,” You reply as you slide your arms around his neck.

Crosshair urges you to hook your legs around his waist, which, really, you would do anyway. “You pout.” He teases, “It’s adorable.”

You press yourself against him, “Yeah…well…cite your sources.”

“Do I look like Tech to you?” He asks with a grin, “I’m not citing anything. You’ll just have to take me at my word.”

You release a huff of laughter, and bump your nose against his, “Thank you for inviting Tech, Crosshair. It means a lot to me.”

Something soft slides across his face, and his hand comes up to brush against your cheek, “Well, you said so yourself, the only way this works for us is if we’re in it together.”

“I can’t believe you were listening to me when I said that.” You admit.

“I have a very vested interest in making sure that you stay happy, kitten.” He replies, “And if you’re happy with me and Tech, then who am I to argue.”

“And you, Cross? Are you happy?”

“Happier than I ever thought possible,” He confirms as he tilts his head to catch your lips with his own.

You lean into the kiss, your hands trailing up to slide through his hair, a soft moan slips from your lips, swallowed by Crosshair, as he nips your lower lip and then trails his tongue across the sore spot to soothe away the pain.

Heavy footsteps on the shore forces him to break the kiss, pulling a whine from you as you try to follow him. Crosshair chuckles and squeezes your hip, before he glances towards the shore, “D’you have to be so loud, Tech?” He asks.

Tech peers at the pair of you, “Yes. I did not want Crosshair to shoot me.”

“As if I would.” Crosshair mutters with a roll of his eyes.

You giggle and nuzzle your nose against his neck, “Will you be joining us, Tech?”

He glances at you, and then the water, and then back at you. “I have a better idea, you both should come to shore.” Tech quickly starts tugging his own blacks off, tossing them carelessly to the side.

Crosshair exhales sharply, and you giggle. “Let it be, Cross.”

“Annoying, everything else is folded-”

You giggle again and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongue sliding across his lips and then past his lips. You map out his mouth, as though it’s the first time, and he releases a quiet groan, his strong hand tightly gripping your ass to grind you against his half hard cock.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” He breathes against your lips. “Believe it or not, I didn’t actually come out here to fuck you.”

You grin against his lips, “Oh? What a pity. Maybe Tech will be interested-” You squeak as he pinches your ass.

“Well, my plans have clearly changed, imp.” He carries you towards the shore, and only sets you on your feet once the both of you are clear of the water.

Tech’s eyes drag down your bare body, lingering on your breasts for a moment, before he steps into your space to catch your lips in a deep kiss.

Tech kisses you like he’s trying to learn everything about you. Like kissing you will answer any and all of the questions he has about you.

Crosshair, on the other hand, kisses you like he’s trying to take everything that makes you you and replace it with himself.

You love both kisses, almost as much as you love both men.

When Tech breaks the kiss, you’re a little breathless, “I’m guessing you have a plan?” You ask.

“I always do,” Tech replies with a small smile, he trails his finger down your cheek, and then across your lips, “You have such a clever mouth, cyare. I want your lips wrapped around my cock.”

Your face heats, and you press your hands against your cheeks, “You can’t just say it like that, Tech.”

Crosshair coos in your ear, “Embarrassed, kitten?” He turns his gaze to his brother, “I assume you have no issues with me fucking her while you’re fucking her face.”

“I am hardly going to be fucking her face,” Tech counters blandly, and then he pauses, “Well, I did not have the intention to.”

“Not an answer, vod.”

“Oh, yes. Do what you like.”

“Well, that was never in question.” Crosshair slides his hands down your sides, “On your knees, kitten.”

You shiver under his touch, especially when his hand slides from your side to dip between your thighs. His finger just barely brushing over your clit.

You release a breathy little moan and Crosshair chuckles and kisses your jaw, before pulling his hand away from you and licking his fingers clean.

“Actually, I had a better idea than her on her knees,” Tech says thoughtfully, and once he's sure he has all of the attention, he smiles. “You on your back, Crosshair, with our cyare riding you.”

Crosshair's fingers pause on your hip, and he glances at you, “You mean I get to feel her all around me and watch her tits?” He asks with a sly smile.

You release a strangled noise and thump your forehead to Tech’s shoulder, “Why?” You ask as your face burns.

Even after all this time, you still get flustered and embarrassed when your boys talk like that.

Which is exactly why they do it, and all of you know it.

“Because you are just too cute when you are ten kinds of flustered, cyare.” Tech kisses the top of your head, and then glances at his brother, “I would suggest spreading her robe across the ground.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Crosshair drops one last kiss to your shoulder, “That was the plan.” He walks over to the piles of clothes, kicks Tech’s stuff out of the way with an annoyed grumble, and then carefully pulls your robe from the bottom of your stack of clothes.

You watch as Crosshair spreads your robes out on the sand, and then lays down on his back. And then you’re distracted as Tech takes one of your hands and wraps it loosely around his half-hard cock.

“I know my brother is pretty, cyare,” Tech teases as he trails light kisses across your cheek, “But I would like your attention too.”

You give him a few light strokes, feeling him harden under your touch, and you’re not surprised when he shoots you a slightly frustrated look. “Cyar’ika, why are you being so gentle?”

A small, almost angelic, smile spreads across your lips, “I have no idea what you mean.”

He peers at you for a moment, and then releases a soft sigh, “You have decided to be a brat tonight then?”

“I have never done anything wrong in my life-”

His hand lands, firmly, on your ass and your sentence breaks off with a startled yelp.

“If I did not already have plans, cyar’ika, I would make this punishment much more enjoyable.” You shiver at his tone of voice, and he presses a light kiss to your forehead, as he massages the sore spot on your ass, “Perhaps later tonight.”

You watch as his gaze flickers past you, and then he locks his gaze with yours again. His rough, calloused hands settle on your hips and he lifts you just enough that he’s able to move you to stand next to where Crosshair is laying.

“How would you like her positioned, vod?” Tech asks lightly, as though he’s commenting on the weather and not manhandling your naked body.

Crosshair’s gaze drags across your body for a moment, and then he smirks, “I was going to say that I want to stuff her full with my cock, but I changed my mind.”

“Oh?”

“I want her to sit on my face.”

“Oh, but-” Two pairs of eyes lock on your face, and you duck your head, “I don’t want to hurt you-”

Crosshair laughs, “I don’t know if you remember this, kitten. But I’m a decently strong guy. You can only hurt me if you try.” With Tech’s help, the two men lower you so that you’re hovering just over his face.

“Are you sure-” You yelp when Crosshair roughly pulls you down so that your pussy is settled over his mouth. His tongue immediately darts out to drag along your folds, and your yelp turns into a moan of pleasure.

“There we go,” Tech murmurs, “No need for such anxiety, cyare.” He moves so that he’s standing next to you and he rests his hand on your head, smoothing your hair for a moment, “Open up for me, darling.”

You part your lips for him, obediently, and he presses the head of his cock against your lips.

“You remember what to do if you need a break?” Tech asks, and his gaze softens when you tap his thigh twice in quick succession, “Good girl.”

And then he pushes the head of his cock past your lips, and lets you do whatever you want.

The dual sensations of Crosshair alternating between flicking your clit with his tongue, shoving his tongue as deep inside you as he can, and sucking on your clit, combined with the feel of Tech, heavy in your mouth, and the taste of his precum on your tongue, is almost too much.

Almost.

But you’ve been in a relationship with them for a while now, and you’re not a blushing virgin anymore. You’ve had a lot of practice using your mouth on both of them, and you have a few tricks to push them over the edge quickly.

For Tech, all you have to do is trail your fingers over his balls while hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard.

Which is exactly what you do, pulling a hoarse groan from his lips, “Kriff, should have tied you up.” He gasps as his hand fists in your hair, and he starts lightly directing you how to move by moving your head for you.

Crosshair closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard as he eases two of his fingers into you and curls them, pressing them right against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

Your hips, which had been rocking against his face, using his mouth for your pleasure, stutter as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm. You just need a little bit more, but you aren’t able to vocalize it.

Luckily, Crosshair knows you as well as you know him, and one of his fingers slides across your folds, and then further back to circle the tight ring of muscles of your asshole.

And you shatter with an almost broken moan, your vision dimming as you plummet over the edge.

Tech pulls himself from your mouth and Crosshair quickly lifts you and moves you down his body, quite happily pulling you down on his solid cock until he’s completely bottomed out.

“There you go, kitten.” Crosshair mumbles as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, before he slides his hands to caress your breasts, “Move for me, sweetheart.”

“You need to open your mouth again, cyare.” Tech whispers, a proud smile crossing his face as you mindlessly obey him, “Good girl. Such a good girl.”

He’s just about to slide his cock past your lips again, and Crosshair is just about to start thrust up into you, when all three of you are distracted by heavy footsteps.

“Crosshair? Tech?” Hunter’s voice echoes from the forest, and then there’s an explosive sigh, “I’m not going to come any closer because I do not need to see what I can smell.” He sounds deeply grieved.

“Go away, Hunter.” Crosshair snaps as he pinches your nipples and pulls a soft moan from your lips. “We’re busy.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Hunter calls back, “We have new orders.”

There’s absolute silence for a moment.

“If I have to come over there and get you-” Hunter threatens.

“We will return to the ship shortly.” Tech calls, “We need…an hour?”

Crosshair searching your face for a moment, “Not even. 30 minutes, to give her time to recover.”

“An hour would be preferable.” Tech argues.

“Five hours would be preferable, but orders are orders.” Crosshair counters. He sits up and caresses your cheek, “I’m afraid we’re not going to get to play like we wanted to, kitten.”

“S’okay.” You whisper to him, though you are careful to make sure that Tech can hear you too.

Tech settles back, “We need thirty minutes, Hunter.” He calls.

“Fine, but if you’re not back in thirty-” He leaves the threat hanging, and then he stomps away.

“You first, Crosshair.” Tech says quietly, something quietly wistful on his face, “I will have my turn when you finish. We will just have to play properly later.”

You lean your forehead against Crosshair’s, your breathing heavy, as he thrusts up into you.

“Deal.” Crosshair replies with a glance at his brother, before focusing his attention on you, a small smirk crossing his lips, “Ready kitten?”

“Always-” You gasp out in response.

The events of Beloved happen here

“I appreciate you doing this,” You say as you press the palm of your hand over your new, well, newish cybernetic eye. You’ve come to learn that entering and leaving the atmosphere makes the cybernetic feel very uncomfortable.

“Ya don’t have ta thank me, kiddo.” The pilot, a Chiss man with bleached blonde hair, drawls as his hands fly over the console, “Yer…da and ya…Ah still owe ya more’n ya owe me.”

A small smile lifts your lips, “You owe me nothing, Cid.”

“Bah, in yer opinion.” He glances at you, “Yer eye botherin’ ya?”

“It’s not fond of pressure changes,” You admit, “I guess that removes deep sea diver from my list of future professions.” You cast your gaze out the front window, “So this is Pabu?”

“Yup, like a glimmerin’ gem.”

“Cid, I didn’t know you were a poet.”

He flashes you a roguish grin, “Ma lady loves it.”

Your smile widens slightly, though it fades when you turn your attention back to the planet.

6 months ago, the clones turned on you and your fellow Jedi. The majority of your brethren were wiped out before they even knew that they were in danger.

You had been in the temple, catching up on some school work that you missed out on due to the war.

It was a blessing, perhaps.

After all, if you had been on Kamino, you’d definitely be dead. Rather than just…

Your fingers glide down the smooth metal of your new prosthetic arm, a gift from Senator Riyo Chuchi, just like your new cybernetic eye. She even offered you shelter for the last six months, while you recovered from your injuries.

You’ll never be able to pay her back.

Still, she swears up and down that Pabu is a safe place, a good place for someone like you to vanish. And you need to vanish.

“A’right there, kiddo?”

“Yeah. Just…lost in thoughts.”

He reaches over and lightly grips your shoulder, though he doesn’t say anything as he focuses his attention on bringing the ship down to the landing pad.

He says nothing until the ship settles on the landing pad, and then he turns to look at you, his crimson eyes scanning your face. “Bein’ a Jedi taught ya how to survive. Taught ya how to adapt. Yer gonna be fine, kiddo. An’ if yer not…jus’ give ol Cid a holler.”

You stare at him for a moment, and then you smile at him, “Thank you, Cid. Really. It’s nice to know that the Jedi still have some friends in the galaxy.”

“More’n ya might believe.” He places both of his hands on your shoulders, and squeezes, “See ya around, kiddo.”

You nod once, and then slide out of the co-pilot’s seat to gather the one bag that you have from your life before, and you step off the ship and onto the landing pad to start your new life.

You move to the edge of the landing pad as Cid powers his ship back on and takes back to the sky, and then you turn to get your bearings. The island isn’t large, you can only imagine that everyone knows everyone.

Still, according to Riyo, this is a refugee planet, so maybe people don’t dig here.

You step off of the landing platform to follow the path towards the building that you can only guess is the welcoming center.

The woman at the desk, a Togruti woman, is very patient with you as she processes your citizenship. She doesn’t ask many questions, though she does eye your prosthetics and scars with a sympathetic smile.

“Welcome to Pabu,” She says quietly, “I hope you find peace here.” She presses a map into your hands, as well as written instructions to the nearest hotel.

Useful.

So you thank her, and then step out the main doors.

Pabu is a tropical island, which means hot. You’re immediately grateful that Cid suggested that you switch to a tank top and shorts rather than the longer clothes that you’ve taken to wearing since you lost your arm.

It’s also humid. So humid. Humid enough that you’re sure that your hair is already getting frizzy.

You sigh and rub the back of your neck and pull your hair off your neck with a hair clip, and then you focus your attention on the written instructions in your hand.

“After leaving the welcoming center,” You mumble to yourself, “follow the sidewalk to the left until you reach the jewelry store, then turn right-” You look around and then you hoist your bag up on your shoulder and you start following the sidewalk.

“Jewelry store? Jewelry store…oh! Jewelry store.” The shop is, quite literally named, Jewelry Store. Handy. You glance at the note again, “Turn right, and follow the sidewalk until you reach the whale statue.”

You glance both ways, before you cross the street and you start walking.

You pause as a shop door flies open and a small girl with short blonde hair darts out into your path, running into your leg, “Ah! I’m sorry!” She blurts, as she looks up at you.

She has a very familiar face. A very, very familiar face.

“No harm done,” You reply, your voice slightly strangled.

The girl stares at you, and then beams, “Oh! You must be a new arrival! My name is Omega.”

Well, so much for your hope that she just looks like a clone.

You introduce yourself with a small smile, even as you carefully, very carefully, reach out through the force to try and determine if you’re in any danger.

There are no warnings, and so you relax. Ever so slightly.

“Um…wait…” Omega reaches up and twists a strand of pale blonde hair between her fingers, and you jolt in surprise. It’s weird, seeing your habits on another person. You used to twist your padawan beads when you were trying to remember something, and when you were promoted, you took to rolling some of your hair between your fingers.

A habit that Hunter took up when you took command of Clone Force 99.

“I know your name…” the little girl murmurs. “Why do I know your name-?”

The door to the shop slides open again, “There you are, Omega. I was wondering where you ran off to.”

You turn your gaze to the veritable wall of muscle that just came out of the shop.

You’d recognize Wrecker anywhere. Even dressed down in civvies.

It’s funny, you thought you’d be nervous about running into any of your men. Especially after the temple. But you’re calm, peaceful even.

“There’s a new person, Wrecker. And her name sounds familiar-”

“Well, names are names Omega.” Wrecker replies, before he finally glances at you, “Welcome to Pab-” He stops mid-sentence. You see his gaze dart to your cybernetic eye, and then drop to the prosthetic arm, “...General?” Wrecker, who’s usually so loud and enthusiastic, sounds hushed and disbelieving.

He sounds guilty.

And you can’t allow that.

So you flash the smallest smile, “Hey, Wreck.”

Wrecker drops his shopping bags into Omega’s arms, pulling a disgruntled noise from her lips, before he tugs you into a tight hug, “Thought you were dead.” He says against the top of your head, “Tech and Cross will be thrilled-”

You don’t move for a moment, and then you release a sigh and wrap your arms around him as well, “I got lucky,” You admit, not the least bit surprised when he doesn’t release you.

He finally pulls back, his hands warm on your shoulders, and his gaze darts across the scars covering your body. You can see the questions on his face, but he swallows them, with difficulty, and instead squeezes your shoulders, “You’re coming home with us.” Wrecker announces, “It's where you’re supposed to be.”

“If you insist.” And it’s as simple as that.

The house your boys share is located near the water. It’s a massive house, big enough that they all probably have their own rooms. That had to have come as a shock to them, seeing as they shared for most of their lives.

Wrecker leads you up the stairs, with Omega in the lead. The little girl isn’t sure what to make of you, not that you blame her. You have just as many questions about her as she probably has about you.

“So this is where we live.” Wrecker says as he leads you into the house, “It’s kinda big, but it’s nice too. We never had our own space before.”

There’s light footsteps coming from the kitchen area, “Who are you talking to, Wrecker?” Crosshair asks as he steps into the front hall, his gaze locked on his brother, before it drops to land on you.

Crosshair stops.

His sharp eyes lock on your arm, your eye, your scars.

And then he’s moving, shoving past Wrecker and stopping only a little bit in front of you. His hand, rough and calloused, gently grips your chin and he tilts your head back so he can see your eyes properly, “Oh, kitten.” He breathes out.

He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t have to.

“Hi Cross.” You whisper.

He releases your chin and his fingers move to your prosthetic arm, to the scars that mar your once barely scarred body.

There’s more footsteps, and then Tech is there. His gaze finds you immediately, and he quickly moves to stand next to Crosshair, his eyes cataloging the array of healed injuries covering your body.

It doesn’t take much longer for Hunter and Echo to join the crowd in the hallway, with Omega watching everyone with confusion on her face.

It’s a confusion you understand, though you’re sure that your confusion isn’t at all similar to hers.

Slowly you set your bag on the ground and you hold up a single hand, “Boys.” You don’t raise your voice. You don’t have to. All five of them immediately fall silent when you speak.

You don’t understand.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before you open them again, “I’ve had the…most awful of times.” You say, quietly. “I would, very much, like to know what crime my people committed to deserve to be executed in our own home.”

The faces around you change. Delight morphs into something stricken. “You…don’t know?” Hunter asks.

You glance at him, “Tell me.”

Hunter takes a deep breath, “Yes ma’am.”

One very, very long conversation later and you finally understand. The knowledge that the men hadn’t turned on the Jedi willingly, that they were forced to do it, eased a hurt that had been festering in your heart.

Though now your heart hurts for the men who are little more than slaves to the Empire.

But that was earlier. Now you’re sitting on Crosshair’s bed, your back pressed against the headboard while he makes room for your stuff in his closet. Tech is messing with something at Crosshair’s desk, and they’re both completely silent.

Crosshair, you know, will wait for you to say something. He’s incredibly patient like that.

You suspect that Tech is going to break first.

And you're right, as only moments after you have that thought, Tech pushes the chair back and moves to the bed to sit next to you. There’s probably a million questions running through his mind, but you can wait for him to settle on one.

But he surprises you.

He doesn’t ask anything, instead his hand moves to a large scar on your shoulder. There’s something pained and guilty on his face.

You reach out and press your hand against his cheek, “It’s not your fault.” You whisper, “Either of you.”

Crosshair drops a jacket to the ground and joins you on the bed, his strong arms slide around your waist and he drops a feather light kiss to your throat, “We should have been there.”

“We thought you were dead.” Tech adds, sounding so deeply pained that your heart lurches.

“I’m sorry,” You comb your fingers through Tech’s hair, and he sighs as he presses his forehead against your other shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Crosshair says roughly, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You shift and lay your cheek against the top of his head, and his arms tighten around you.

“It’s funny,” Crosshair murmurs against your skin, “I genuinely thought that the only thing I would want when I had you back in my arms is to make you fall apart for me. But now that you’re here, all I want is to hold you.”

You laugh softly, “I love you too, Cross.” You say as you press a light kiss to the top of his head.

Tech presses himself firmly against your other side, “When things get back to normal,” He murmurs, “I would like to give you a full examination, so that I can see how your prosthetics and cybernetics work. So I can keep you healthy.”

“Of course.”

“No one is ever going to hurt you again, cyare.” Tech promises.

“That’s not your job, Tech. But thank you all the same.” You whisper as you press a kiss to the top of his head as well.

And then you squeak as you’re tugged down the bed so your head is resting on one of Crosshair’s pillows. His face is pressed against your neck, and his legs are tangled with yours. Tech rests his head on your shoulder, his fingers threading with yours.

For the first time in months, you feel safe.

And slowly you drift off to sleep. Sure that this was part of their plan.

Your boys always did know you better than anyone.

#star wars #tbb #tbb crosshair x reader x tbb tech #crosshair x reader x tech #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!rreader fic #18+ fic #nsft

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theharddeck · 1 year

Text

as if it doesn't turn you on, just to say it

basically I saw @hangmanapologist 's post (💙) and immediately opened a Google doc. the s t u n n i n g Rhett/Lewis edit is from Robyn as well!!

pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

summary: you convince Bob to dress up as your favorite show for a Halloween…and he looks way better than you could’ve prepared for

warnings: 18+ minors please DNI!! smut, swearing, explicit unprotected piv sex, explicit oral (m!receiving) sex, and mild sacrilege.

unofficial tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed, i just tagged people who are equally feral for bob or who were nice to me once about my work): @wildbornsiren @peakyrogers @javihoney @fuckyeahhangman @thedroneranger @princessofglitterland @gigisimsonmars @thedroneranger @laracrofted @bioodforbiood @winterrebel04 @javihoney @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch

Bob’s voice was muted as he spoke through the bathroom door. You stood in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, rubbing absently at your red lipstick, a matte liquid product that stuck to your lips with apparently industrial strength. You hoped the same could be said of the boob tape you were placing entirely too much trust in, for something that was $16, and from Target. You tilted your head at your reflection, pleased with the overall effect.

Rationally, you knew it was just a black jumpsuit—a halter neckline, a wide pant leg, a strategic opening over the breastbone—but with the red lipstick and fake cigarette, it felt like a suit of armor.

It was as if Phoebe Waller Bridge herself was your fairy godmother, and had appeared in a thought bubble in your subconscious to tell you that you looked smashing, or something equally British and charming.

And, since your boyfriend had been convinced to don a matching costume, you were ready to see his look for the night.

“What do you mean?” you called, fussing with the approximation of Fleabag’s haircut you’d achieved with an array of pins.

“It just looks like a priest’s robe,” Bob’s voice came through the door again, confusion and indecision in his tone. “I’m really not sure what the effect is supposed to be.”

You smiled to yourself. “Why don’t you let me tell you how effective it is?” you asked.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, and Bob’s head stuck out of it. His costume was hidden by the door, but his eyes met yours in the mirror, before running down over the jumpsuit.

“You look amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled as you turned to face him. His compliments always settled over you like sunshine, warming you from your skin inwards, his sweet conviction brokering no room for argument.

“Thank you,” you smoothed your hands over the front of your slacks. “Can I see yours?”

Bob’s nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned his head sideways, leaning against the door, using it like a shield.

“I just look like a priest,” he complained meekly, “while you look so hot.”

“A million fanfics would suggest that those are not mutually exclusive,” you cajoled. “Come on, let me see it.”

Bob sighed, opening the door, and while you wished your reaction was for the sake of dramatics, it was entirely lacking in pretense.

He looked so good.

You’d known Hot Priest would be a great costume for your boyfriend, since the Andrew Scott trifecta of broad shoulders, big hands, and a soft smile was practically custom-made for Bob. But you hadn’t been prepared for just how well it would suit him.

The high white collar was stretched across his throat, emphasizing the width of his neck, and leading down to his shoulders. The black robe was unassuming enough, but it wasn’t enough to hide the definition of Bob’s shoulders and chest. If anything, it highlighted them by contrast. You’d always been attracted to the dichotomies within Bob—his strength and his softness, his gentleness and his discipline—and the vestment was putting them on blast.

He looked like a good man who fucked, and you must've had quaker ancestors, because it was really, really working for you.

The only other exposed skin was his hands, which was a whole other blessing.

He had great hands.

His long fingers were fidgeting under your perusal, and you dragged your eyes back up his body as Bob waited for your verdict. His hair was a little longer than normal, and you noticed the ends of it curling up around that damn collar, and you were practically itching to run your fingers through it.

“Alright,” Bob grumbled, somehow uncertain as to how to interpret your reaction, “let’s have it.”

“Babe,” you shook your head. “I literally cannot even tell you how good you look.”

Bob’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses, looking down at himself. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you assured him. “Like… like the female gaze personified; it’s actually ridiculous.”

He pushed his glasses up on his nose, shifting between his feet and pulling at the collar.

Just that simple motion, a long finger tucked under that white fabric, and you wanted to call Penny and tell her you were sorry, but you and Bob actually couldn’t come to the Hard Deck’s Halloween party tonight.

Instead, you crossed the room, determined to be PG, and wound your hands around his neck, smiling up at him. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” you said.

Bob’s hands came around your waist easily, his shoulders relaxing as he felt the press of your body against his.

“Of course,” he said automatically, and you knew he meant it. He was simple like that—if it would make you happy, he’d do it. You squeezed your arms a little tighter around him, and Bob immediately adjusted his grip, always willing to match you.

You shook your head, looking up at him fondly. “You’re too good to me,” you told him, honestly.

“You make it easy,” Bob said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. Bob’s hand ran up and down your spine slowly, a soft touch allowed by the open back of the jumpsuit. You snuggled into him, grateful and enamored and a hundred other things much wholesome than your reaction to his costume. You stayed that way for a long moment, wrapped in each others’ arms and your own thoughts, quietly charging before you’d face the adventure of Halloween with the rest of the dagger squad.

+++++

“We are good friends,” you announced, as Bob locked the door to the apartment, some four hours later.

“Absolutely top drawer,” Bob agreed.

The two of you had braved a costume contest (Jake and Javy won), obligatory thematic drinks (neither you nor Bob loved the taste of gin, but you couldn’t do Fleabag and not sip G&Ts), and Rooster playing his entire repertoire of spooky Halloween songs on The Hard Deck’s piano (twice).

It had been fun, it had.

It had also been exhausting.

You kicked off your heels without finesse, and Bob sighed tiredly as he leaned over to undo the laces of his dress shoes. You smiled at the image of him, his large body bent over in the small hallway to arrange the shoe rack; he lifted a hand in your direction without looking up, and you slid your heels over to him with your toe.

He looked up at you, smiling briefly, and his thumb brushed over your ankle in acknowledgment as he arranged your shoes next to his.

You held out a hand to pull him up and he took it, straightening and stretching his back as he rose. His arm draped loosely over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, his fingers still playing with the hand you’d offered him.

“The costumes were a hit,” he mused. “I couldn’t believe how many people had seen that show.”

You nodded, knowing he could feel the motion from your head on his shoulder. “It won like forty Emmys, with good reason.”

“Alright, you have great taste,” Bob teased softly. “No need to rub it in.”

You laughed as the two of you tried to fit through the bedroom door at once, not quite small enough to make it through without some maneuvering. Once through, you rose up on your toes to press a kiss to Bob’s cheek.

“Thanks again,” you whispered. “For doing the costume thing.”

When you settled back on your heels, Bob followed you, his head ducking to capture your lips again.

It was one of your favorite things about Bob, that he kissed you just to kiss you, to say any number of things he meant, with simple affection. He broke the kiss softly, his forehead still against yours, and one of his hands tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing something that makes you happy,” he said quietly, and your heart just melted. He was so special, so sweet without even trying.

“Love you,” you said simply, and Bob hummed, before kissing you again.

“Love you, too,” he said.

You stood there for a moment, smiling sappily at each other, before Bob laughed to himself. “Although, maybe next year, we go for a costume that I can wear more than once?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, looking at his costume appreciatively, “let the record show that I am all for you bringing this look out, unprompted, whenever you want.”

Bob chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind. Come on, let’s get changed.”

He leaned in to kiss you again quickly, but your fingers tightened on the front of his robe when he pulled back, an idea streaking across your mind.

“Or…” you trailed off, not sure if you wanted to open the door, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you considered. Bob’s hand eased its way up the side of your neck, his thumb tracing across your lip until you released it.

“Or?” he prompted, quietly.

“Or you could keep it on,” you said in a rush.

Bob’s hand on your jaw stilled, and he pulled back slightly to look at your face. Whatever he saw had his eyes widening, his breath catching, and then his mouth curved into a small smile.

“Thought you were tired, honey,” he teased, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I am,” you admitted, pausing. “But I know a good way to get me to sleep.”

Bob laughed against your skin, a fond sound, before bending down. His lips trailed warm kisses across your collarbone as his hands slipped behind you to undo the jumpsuit. You knew what he was doing, giving you time to decide if you wanted to get ready for bed or for sleep, since either would need you out of the jumpsuit, but your body responded to his touch without rationale. He hummed when you leaned into his touch and he pulled back to look at you.

“Incorrigible,” he said, and you smiled, unbothered.

“Is that a no?” you asked.

Bob’s fingers were still fiddling with the fastenings of the jumpsuit and you knew you could help him, but you liked how close he was, how his hands felt, how everything had felt since he opened the bathroom door hours ago, looking like this.

“It’s not a no,” he whispered. He got the final clasp and the garment fluttered down your body, pooling around your ankles.

Bob’s hands immediately smoothed over you, his touch warming your bared skin, and you shivered at the contrast. His long fingers ran up your sides, his broad palms settling over your breasts; you leaned into his touch as he lifted them, your eyes falling shut as you breathed his name.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Bob asked softly. “I know we watched the show together, but how much are you wanting this to draw from it—is this roleplay, just the idea, what–”

“Anything,” you whispered, your voice breathier than you expected. Bob’s hands tightened on you, at your eagerness, and when you looked up at him, you saw the desire in his expression.

“Okay,” Bob said, his voice soft, as he pressed another kiss to your lips, reassuring. “You just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, appreciating him checking in, but knowing you didn’t need it. You’d always been able to be honest with Bob, about what you needed or wanted, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different.

He lifted his chin, his eyes running down to your mouth as he licked his lips, before saying in a low voice, “Kneel.”

You whimpered.

Actually whimpered, a sound that ripped out of you at the perfect contrast of your doting boyfriend with the steely command from the show, one that brokered no discussion. Bob’s eyes darkened at the sound, but he raised an eyebrow, and you complied, sinking to the floor of your bedroom. You saw his jaw clench at the immediacy of your response, but that was the only indicator that he was affected, every other component of his expression radiating control.

“Good girl,” he said, and your lashes fluttered at his low tone. Bob’s nails brushed across your forehead as his fingers ghosted over the top of your head, settling at the back of your scalp.

“Or maybe not,” he said, in that same, low tone, a hint of unfamiliar condescension creeping in, “you got on your knees awful quick there, honey.”

Your head tilted back at his touch, one of your hands coming up to balance yourself by resting on the front of his thigh. Through the black cloth you could feel his strong thighs, tensing under the brush of your fingers, and when you looked back up at him, he was watching you through half-closed eyes.

“So pretty,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Take it out.”

You reached for him eagerly, finding the buttons in the robe and undoing them to find the loose slacks underneath. Your hands were nearly trembling with excitement as you felt the hot length of him through his trousers, and Bob drew in a sharp breath when your fingers brushed over his erection. Bulge was such an unglamorous word, but it was only accurate as you ran your hand over the length of him. You couldn’t help but lean forward to press a kiss against the straining material of the trousers.

Bob groaned quietly, a faint sound that streaked ribbons of heat through you, and you returned to your initial prerogative. When you finally pulled him free of the vestment, you sat back on your thighs, admiring his thick length in your hand. Long and broad, veins tracing up the side of it, a drop of moisture pearled at the tip, and you were practically salivating as you leaned towards him again.

Your hand angled at the base of his cock and you licked your lips as you leaned towards him, but Bob’s hand on your hair tightened, pulling you back. He held you in place and you looked up at him to see him shaking his head.

“Ask me nice,” he said, his hand tightening in your hair. His jaw was slack but his eyes were sharp as he watched you, wanting it as bad as you did, knowing how begging would make you feel.

“Want to taste you,” you whined, a breath away from him. You wanted the weight of him on your tongue, your lips stretching around him, your name on his moan when you made him feel good. “Please, Bobby.”

He shook his head, readjusting his grip on your hair.

“Who?” he asked, his voice low.

“Fuck,” you clenched your thighs together, as his words rolled over you. “Father,” you tried, and Bob groaned, a long low sound.

“That’s right, baby,” he gritted, and his hips snapped forward.

Your mouth had been open, tongue eager, but he pushed past your lips so quickly that you barely registered the salty taste of him on your tongue before his thick cock was pressing at the back of your throat. Tears pricked at your eyelids, but you hollowed your cheeks as Bob pressed into your throat, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs again.

You moaned around him, feeling your panties growing damp at the weight of him. He was so big, and he was trying to stay still, but his cock twitched in your mouth, little pulses that had your thighs quivering.

Bob pulled back, all the way out of your mouth, and you gasped in a breath of air when his cock pulled free. With his hand in your hair holding you steady, he traced your lips with his cock. The swollen head rubbed against your lips, your saliva ran between your mouth and his cock, messy.

“Baby, this mouth,” Bob moaned. “You gonna let me fuck it?”

“Please,” you whispered, another pulse of arousal going through you when your polite boyfriend swore, opening your mouth wider as Bob dragged his cock against it again.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Bob said, and he pushed back into you again.

You held your breath as he eased into you, stretching your jaw and pushing back into your throat. When he was seated, you heard him sigh, something breathy and beautiful, and you swallowed obediently. His hips jerked forward as you tightened around him, and his other hand came down to hold the side of your face.

“Doing so good for me, beautiful girl,” he praised softly, as he pulled back. He held you in place with his hands, his thighs pumping his cock into your open mouth, and your eyes filled with tears as he choked you on his cock.

He was so big, something you often forgot due to the gentleness with which he handled you, but when he got like this, it was unavoidable. His hands nearly spanned the back of your head, his thumbs coming forward to wipe your tears as they spilled out of your eyes, his large cock blocking air through your throat. You moaned as his thrusts got faster, knowing he loved this enough to be rough, to be wild for once, that your body was the vessel he was using for his pleasure.

When you looked up at him, he was looking down at you, his eyes dark and cheeks bright with color.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, and you whined at the obsenity, “you’re taking me so well, honey, making me feel so good, that pretty lipstick stretched around my dick—”

Your head was swimming from the lack of air and his praise, and your hands tightened on his thighs, as his head fell back. He hit the back of your throat one more time, and another, and then he pulled out of you sharply, your body weaving when he let go of your hair. You looked up at him through streaming eyes, and Bob groaned looking down at you.

He moved fast, his hands hooking under your arms and practically dragging you over to the bed. You still felt hazy when you landed on your back, the comforter soft under your body, and a moment later Bob lowered his body over yours.

“Bet you’re all ready for me,” he said, his voice hoarse as his hand slotted between your legs. He jerked your underwear aside and you both groaned when one of his long fingers pulled through your folds. Bob’s head fell to your shoulder, and you felt him press a soft kiss there, even as shudder worked over his upper body.

“What got you this wet, huh, baby?” he asked, his voice muffled by your skin, his other hand reaching up to pull off his glasses and set them on the nightstand. “You like being on your knees for me this much? Feeling my cock in that pretty mouth, knowing how well it’ll fill this cunt?”

His fingers pulled through the moisture between your thighs, rubbing through you and teasing your entrance. You gasped when he dragged your arousal up to your clit, pressing tight circles around it as your back arched off the bed.

“Bobby, please, yes—”

He was gone a moment later, ripping your panties down your legs before he pulled you down to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off of it as he stood between them. Your hair splayed around you, and you watched as he dragged his cock between your folds, still wet from your mouth. When he notched the head at your entrance, your head fell back, and he began to push it in. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him, and you heard him breathing sharply through his nose, keeping himself under control.

“Baby,” he gritted, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you onto him. “Feels as good as sin, this hungry pussy. So wet and tight, pulling me in like you need it...”

You moaned at his words, your hands flailing over the sheets, needing something to hold onto as Bob pushed himself home inside of you. You wanted to sob from the fullness of him inside you, how you could feel him through your whole body, practically feel his heartbeat.

“I do need it, I do,” you babbled, the stretch of him overwhelming and perfect. “Please, Bobby, move, I need you—”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered, and you reached for him blindly. You clutched at his chest, his shoulders, your hands curling into the robes and moaning when you remembered what he was wearing.

Bob laughed darkly, pulling his hips back slowly. His thick cock dragged against your warm walls and you could feel yourself clenching down on him, craving him.

“The robes are really doing it for you, huh, baby? Thinking of driving all the piety out of a man’s head because he needs this tight pussy more than he needs his god?”

His words were accompanied by a harsh thrust and you cried out as Bob picked up a brutal pace. His hips slapped into yours, his cock stretching you, and his hands tightened on your hips.

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips clashing against yours as he bent your legs back to reach deeper inside you.

“You like the thought of that, don’t you, baby,” he growled, his teeth dragging across your collarbone, “the thought of being so under a man's skin that he can’t wait a minute more without being buried inside of you? Needing to hear those sweet sounds you make while he’s fucking you, begging him to save you from the ache between your thighs?”

His cock was dragging into a deep part of you, brushing against a spot that had you seeing stars. Your legs were trembling from the tight angle but you thought you might die if he didn’t keep going, didn’t save you, just like he said.

You whimpered when his lips closed around your pulse point, biting enough to mark you, and Bob pulled back to look at you. His face was flushed, red and sweating, the most beautiful sight in the world.

“Love you like this,” you moaned, your legs shaking. “Fuck, Bobby, you feel so good, I need you—”

Bob groaned, his head falling beside yours as he rutted into your harder. His tight collar scaped against your neck and you wound your arms around his neck. As his thrusts pushed your body up the bed, his lips found yours again, dragging against you sloppily.

“No amount of holy wine could wipe the taste of you off my tongue, baby,” he gritted against your lips. “Need the sounds of my baby coming undone around my cock; ‘s better than anything else in the world.”

Your eyes rolled back as you clung to him. You felt like sobbing, you felt like your skin was on fire, like the only thing tethering you to this pane was the unrepentant press of his cock deep inside of you, his strong arms around you, his lips against you.

“Cum for me, honey,” he moaned, his voice sounding broken. “Make me sinner and saint, baby, let me feel it.”

You screamed, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm shattered over you. Your head lulled back, you felt the fabric of the robes rending between your fingers as you pulled desperately at Bob. Pleasure rolled over you, white hot and almost painful, all-encompassing and as close to holy as anything you knew.

Bob groaned as you tightened around him, your cunt pulsing as your orgasm wrecked you, pulling him with you.

“So good for me, baby,” he groaned, his hips pistoning faster, and you whined weakly, your body sensitive but needing this closeness, and his climax.

“Want to feel you, Bobby,” you whispered. “Please, baby, want your cum…”

His thighs were trembling and his chest was heaving against yours as he got closer. He ground his hips into yours, his fingers tight enough on your hips to bruise, his breath puffing into your shoulder.

“Asking me so sweetly, honey,” he gritted into your neck, “of course, anything for you, anything, baby, fuck—”

He came with a choked groan, his body tensing as he held himself over you, his hips bucking as he finished. You whimpered at the full feeling, his cock weakly fucking his cum into you, your combined climax leaking out of your core. The room was hot and Bob’s harsh breathing seemed to echo around it; you thought dazedly that that was your favorite sound in the world, the reminder that we was here, breathless, after being with you. He made to roll off of you, but you clung to him, wrapping your shaking legs around him and pulling him tightly to you.

The robes scratched against your chest, but we came willingly, turning slightly to wrap his own arms around you, holding you close.

“Beautiful girl,” he mumbled into your hair. His voice was so deep, so tender, and you drew in a breath, running your hands through his long hair. He nuzzled into you and your arms softened, loving the warmth that came from being with him.

After a moment, you felt his chest shake. You pulled back to look at him, confused to find him silently laughing, and Bob smiled at you gently, pushing some of your sweat-matted hair away from your face.

“That’ll be fourteen Hail Marys,” he teased, “and at least a dozen Our Fathers, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his shoulder but your boyfriend chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him.

“Worth it,” he whispered, his eyes bright and honest as he leaned up to kiss you again, soft and playful, "so damn worth it."

#Robert Bob floyd #Bob floyd smut #Bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #happy Halloween to ME #fleabag #misskielwrites

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natimiles · 6 months

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Strange Feelings (Isaac x reader)

Summary: Isaac was a man of logic and science. Was he supposed to believe that there was someone out there made especially for him? But when you first came through that door, a lot of strange things began to happen.

Words: 3539

Tags: soulmate au (you feel what your soulmate feels); drinking; a little jealousy; lots of Arthur being Arthur; Isaac being the awkward snowflake he is and we love; everyone in tuxedos (yeessss); gn!reader, but you wear a dress.

Crossposted on AO3

Isaac was a man of logic and science. He never believed in destiny, but rather that you have to work hard to achieve what you want. He also never believed that there were creatures other than humans living among them, but here he was, in his second life: a newborn vampire who had crossed a magical door and now lived in a different country and century. Even after all this, he still had trouble believing in soulmates. Most of the stories had been lost to time, already considered fairy tales in his first life. Was he supposed to believe that there was someone out there made especially for him? A destined love, with its ups and downs like any other relationship, but with the assurance that you've made the right choice — if that can even be considered a choice, anyway.

When you first came through that door, a lot of strange things began to happen. He felt this strange grip on his heart, a longing he couldn’t understand, experienced panic attacks for a whole week without any apparent reason, not to mention the night he started crying out of nowhere. But it all stopped as abruptly as it began. He didn’t think much about any of it, thinking it was just exhaustion since he'd been having trouble sleeping for a few nights, not realizing yet that it all coincided with your arrival.

As the days passed by, Isaac saw the whole house change because of you. Yes, half of the residents tried to bite you in the first week (including himself), but you always found a way to dodge and everything ended just fine. They all started eating together more frequently, eager to see what you cooked with Sebastian — or just see you, as Arthur pointed out one evening. They’d talk more to each other, help more with chores, laugh more, and have more and more moments where it felt like one big family. He even saw Mozart smiling one evening and the musician didn’t even drink that day.

If he believed in fantasies and stuff, he’d say you were a witch that put them all under your spell. Everybody was kind of fighting for your attention, but he was a little awkward and people used to call him a contrarian, which weren’t exactly charming traits. It wasn’t on purpose though, sometimes he just didn’t want to cause trouble to others, he just wanted to stay in his room and study quietly. So he tried to avoid you.

Emphasis on tried.

If he was working in his room, you went there to bring him snacks. If he had to go downtown to buy something, you tagged along saying you’d buy supplies for dinner. If he went outside to stargaze, you did too, laying in the grass to listen to him talk about physics even though you didn’t like it — and he knew it because you confessed it one night he caught you yawning in the middle of his speech. It didn’t matter what he was doing, you were there. It was almost impossible to get rid of you!

At least he felt better now than when you two first met. The grip on his heart and the panic attacks were gone, which only added to his theory that he was just working too much at the time. He was sleeping better now, so he was feeling better. See? Pure logic. His back aching, his elbow hurting like he bumped into something, his toe screaming in pain like he hit the corner of the bed… Sure, all had a logical explanation: he sat all day and then slept all night in a bad position. That was all.

When you decided to stay in the mansion, everybody was happy, including Isaac. He didn’t feel weird around you now that he was getting used to your presence, he even considered you a friend. Comte obviously went all out and threw a party, ordering a whole banquet from a fancy restaurant, as he said you couldn’t help Sebastian cook your own celebration. There was music, lots of good food and everyone had to dress up in their tuxedos. It was hellishly annoying for Isaac, but at least he got to see how beautiful you were in that new dress.

“Hey, Isaac,” you called out to him, rushing from across the room to his side. “Why’re you alone here?”

“Avoiding people.”

“Oh, should I leave?”

“We both know you won’t even if I kick you out,” he laughed through his nose.

“You already know me so well,” you chuckled and sat beside him. “You look good tonight.”

“Ah, thank you,” he felt his cheeks warming, so he was sure you could see him blushing. “Y-you too.”

“Thank you!” You beamed at him. “You know, I’m really happy I decided to stay. I feel at home with you guys. And the royal treatment tonight is kinda nice, even though I don’t know if I deserve all this.”

Isaac nodded, not sure if he should say something back or just listen. “You do… Everyone is happy, I guess.” He took a look around the room, noticing how all the residents were having a good time. They had been drowning you in compliments until just a minute ago when you finally had a moment alone since the party started and decided to go sit beside him.

“Mmm, everyone, you say,” your tone was playful. He glanced at you and you were grinning at him. He knew you were up to something, ready to tease him. You rivaled Arthur and Dazai sometimes. “Does that include you, Newt?”

“Please, don’t start,” he frowned.

“I’m sorry… Sir Isaac.” He rolled his eyes and you laughed. “Or do you prefer how Sebas addresses all of you, Master Isaac.”

“You’re the worst sometimes.”

“And you still like me,” you smiled. It was beautiful as ever, but something was off. Why didn’t it reach your eyes?

He felt his heart skip a beat, a warm feeling spreading all over his body. What was that? It was like he was being wrapped with a warm blanket, yet at the same time, he had a strong longing feeling and… sadness? He didn’t have a reason to be sad. He wasn’t even really mad at you, he knew you were just being as playful as always. It didn’t make sense, any of his last thoughts did, so he just shook his head to try to clear his head. His feelings had been all over the place these past few weeks.

“Hondje, come!” You two heard Theo calling. “Comte opened a fancy bottle of wine.”

“I’m going!” You got up and answered loudly so he could hear. “Will you come too, Isaac?”

“No, I don’t drink.”

“Really? Why not?”

“It has the same effects as blood: zero tolerance, a hundred humiliations,” he huffed.

“Oh, we don’t want you losing control.” Dazai came out of nowhere, a glass in his hands. “Then would you like some juice instead?”

“Do I look that stupid?” He deadpanned.

“It was worth the shot, Dazai,” you patted his shoulder and laughed. You threw one last smile in Isaac's direction and went to Theo, who was already holding a glass of wine for you. “I’m not a dog, you know!” You complained to the youngest brother.

“And you still came, like a good girl,” he petted your head and smiled. Isaac couldn’t help but think that it was weird seeing everybody interact with you, how they changed so much with your presence.

“Come on, dance with me!” Arthur took the glass of wine away from your hands. “Wolfie, play something nice!”

“Hey!” You tried to reach for it to get it back, but the writer was already pulling you by the waist.

Mozart frowned for a second and thought about complaining, but he didn’t mind acquiesce to Arthur’s wish when he saw you happily dancing.

“I still don’t know the dances from this century. I will step on your feet,” you laughed.

“That’s fine, luv. I’ll lead,” he smirked.

You two began to dance around the room and it was like watching newlyweds waltzing. Arthur was so confident, holding you close by the waist, and you were comfortable around him, now that you knew how to deal with all his flirting. Isaac felt a grip on his heart again; what was wrong with him today? Before it was like a little squeeze, but now it felt like… shattering. He frowned, putting a hand on his chest, as if he could make sure his heart was still there and beating normally. Maybe he was just tired. It'd be better to return to his peaceful room.

You had always seen in movies how the lady would graciously spin during a dance, so you thought you could try it too. You did a few spins, laughing when Arthur pulled you by the hand, and you spun back into his arms. It really was fun! At least until you didn't notice Isaac passing behind you. Arthur tried to stop you, but you opened your arms wide and hit the physicist in the face.

"Gods…" Isaac put a hand on his face to try to alleviate the pain from the accidental slap.

“I’m sorry!” You brought a hand to your cheek, a pained expression on your face as well.

“Did I hit you back?” He noticed and reached to move a strand of hair away from your face to look at you better. “I'm sorry…”

“No, no, you didn't… At least I don't think you did…” You let your arms fall to your side and narrowed your eyebrows. Why was your cheek hurting? Did he hit you back, and you didn't notice because the alcohol had already affected you too much?

Arthur raised an eyebrow while analyzing you two. You were now apologizing to Mozart for interrupting his beautiful song, but your hand kept going to your cheek without you even noticing, and there was a discreet frown on your face. He was a mystery writer, so he was observant and smart enough to see there was something up.

“I guess you’ve had enough drinks for tonight.”

“Thanks, Theo, really nice observation,” you huffed. “I’m really sorry, Isaac. I didn’t see you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he assured you. He was fine, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. Damn, you had a strong slap, even though it was accidental. You stared at him for a few moments and it was like he lost track of space and time, lost in your eyes. You two felt butterflies in your stomach; however it was impossible to know if it was really coming from yourselves or if it was just that weird feeling again, like it came from outside your bodies.

“Why don’t you drink some water, MC?” Sebastian interrupted, placing a tray on the table with various glasses already filled with drinks. “It’ll surely be good after all the dancing and spinning. Gentlemen, we also have blanc or rouge, juice and…”

Isaac picked a glass and gulped down in one motion, putting the glass back down at the table and taking a deep breath. It didn’t taste like rouge, so it was probably the juice. Then he felt a tingling down his throat and coughed.

“And wine for those who can hold their liquor,” Sebastian finished his sentence, staring at the physicist.

“Great,” Isaac mumbled when he realized what he had just drunk. “Really great.”

“Wanna sit down?” You asked worriedly. “Drink some water, it’ll help.”

“No need, thanks,” he said, closing his eyes to take a deep breath before reopening them. “I’ll just go back to my room. Goodnight.”

“Oh, okay… Goodnight. Call us if you need something.” You felt a bit sad he was leaving early but didn't want to force him to stay if he was uncomfortable. Isaac only nodded in response.

“So, luv,” Arthur called you in a flirtatious tone, placing his hand on your shoulder and hugging you from the side. “Will you give me another dance? This one doesn't count.”

Oh no. Isaac was already passing through the door, but he could hear it; he could almost see (and feel) the look Arthur was giving you. He had never really thought much of Arthur's playfulness, but for some reason, it bothered him now. It must be the wine talking. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus. He should go back to his room already, before he did or said something he'd regret later.

“Or, if you want, we can dance somewhere else.”

Oh no, no, no, no, no. For goodness' sake. He sighed loudly, cursing under his breath. His bedroom wasn't even that far away, and it would be a quick walk to get there if he ignored the wine's effects. But he knew it wouldn't calm his mind. He turned back around and didn't even need to get too close to where you were. He could reach you from there, and he did. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you away from Arthur to stand beside him, his hand in a tight grip around yours.

“I-Isaac?”

Your voice brought him back from his thoughts. He was surprised to find himself glaring at Arthur. He felt his face soften when you called his name. The writer had such a smug smile on his face, which bothered him even more. "Yes?" He turned in the direction of your voice and was startled to see you standing close to his side. You were blushing and looking at him curiously. Isaac rubbed his hand over his face, trying to sober up a little and hide from your gaze at the same time.

“Come on, let’s go,” you laced your fingers with his. “I’ll get you some water and you’ll sleep to sober up.”

He wanted to say he didn’t want to, but your commanding tone didn’t leave any room for that. Instead, he just nodded and sighed, clearly bothered by his losing battle against alcohol. You squeezed his hand and went to the kitchen to fetch a jar of water, with him in tow. You bid everybody goodnight and thanked them for the lovely party before guiding him to his own room.

“I’m sorry,” he frowned when he finally sat on his bed.

“What for?”

“Ruining your party. I should’ve paid more attention to what I was drinking.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Isaac,” you said, placing the water on the coffee table to serve him some. “I had lots of fun and felt really special tonight, thanks to everyone.”

Everyone. He narrowed his eyes, bothered that you always tried to treat them equally. You stayed because you liked being with them, because they made you feel at home, they made you feel at ease, they were the family you never had, they loved you and you loved them. He didn’t want it. He didn’t like it at all. He wanted to complain, to make you see him and be his, to bite you… To bite you? Ok, he tried it when you arrived, but it was a different situation. He knew he couldn’t hold his alcohol, but it didn't seem that was the problem. He made sure to drink some rouge during the party, but your scent was so alluring. It was a different bloodlust… Like the one Comte told them about when they transformed, the one you feel when…

“Isaac?”

He blinked up and saw you standing in front of him, a cup of water in your hands. You were frowning and he could see the concern in your eyes.

“Yes?”

“Are you ok? You’re pale. You should lie down,” you tried to place your hand on his shoulder to help him, but he panicked.

“No!” He said a little too loud and stood up, startling you. You took a step back and hit the back of your leg on the coffee table, losing your balance. You succeeded in not falling by waving your arms at Isaac, and he held your hand to help, but you dropped the glass. “Sorry,” he released you and crouched to pick up the broken pieces of glass.

“It’s fine, you just startled me. Let me help you.”

“No, I’ll do it. If you cut yourself…” he trailed off, but you understood him. He let out a worried huff, but you misunderstood it as annoyance.

“Okay, sorry,” you said quietly. Perhaps he didn’t want or need you taking care of him, he wanted to stay alone in the silence. Even though you never cared about it before, he seemed mad this time. You wanted to talk to him, try to understand what was happening, but you should just leave for now. “I-I… I think I’ll be going…”

Isaac noticed the sadness in your voice, he wasn’t dense. He got distracted for a second and cut his finger with one of the shards. He cursed under his breath and put his finger into his mouth to stop the bleeding. You yelped and he stood up in a second, grabbing your hands to examine.

“What? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I-I felt…” You were confused. You felt a cut on your finger, but there was nothing. You hadn't done anything, so it'd be weird if you were really hurt. You stared at his hands, holding yours so softly, and widened your eyes. There was barely any blood there anymore, but you could see a cut in his middle finger. The same finger you felt being hurt. And suddenly everything made sense. “You…”

“Me?” He looked into your eyes, confused. “What do you mean? Why are you crying?!” Isaac panicked and cradled your face, trying to look for signs that you were hurt and dry your tears.

“Do you... Do you know any stories about soulmates?” You forced your voice to remain steady.

“Yes, but I never believed,” he answered the weird question with a confused expression, and you nodded.

“I've waited my whole life,” you confessed shyly, blinking the tears away. “The stories I heard said you’d feel something when you turn 18, or that you’d be born with some sort of sign. I didn’t get any, but I always tried to pay attention to anything different that happened to me, until I just gave up. Then I arrived at the mansion and strange things began to happen. Well, stranger than passing through a magic door and meeting vampires,” you laughed through your nose. “My throat felt so dry, it didn't matter how much water I drank; a pain in my leg even though I didn’t bump into anything; a desire to be alone in my room; a slap in my face earlier; my finger being cut now; and… the need to be where you were,” the last part was mumbled, but he heard. “Even though I thought you didn’t like me, sometimes.”

Isaac felt his body sober up all at once, his eyes wide while his hands were still holding your face, frozen on spot. He understood where this conversation was going but struggled to believe it. He had never believed in any of this. He wasn’t even at an age where this could manifest anymore. In fact, he was a lifetime too late for this sort of thing. However, it did provide a logical solution for everything that had been happening since he met you, even if it felt far from logical.

He opened his mouth to say something, but what could he possibly say? He’d never been good at talking about his feelings. Feeling bolder now that he knew he wouldn't need to fight for your attention and face rejection, he decided that actions might speak louder than words. He slowly leaned closer, looking intently into your beautiful eyes and then glancing at your lips. You placed your hands on his shoulders, already feeling his breath gently brushing against your face.

“Can I…?” he murmured, not wanting to break the mood but also wanting to be a gentleman.

“Please, do,” you murmured back.

He closed the gap between you two, and only then did you realize you'd been holding your breath, relaxing in his arms. It was a chaste and short kiss, still testing the waters, but it felt so right. His bloodlust was ringing even louder in his ears, but he'd force it to be locked in a box of his mind for now.

“I like you. I really do,” he muttered, his lips still so close, brushing lightly against yours.

“Me too,” you answered with the brightest smile he’d ever seen.

“Good.” Isaac smiled. You’d never seen him smile like this, you didn’t even know he could look even more handsome. He slid his thumb down your cheeks to your lips, caressing you softly and holding you by the chin. Not holding back this time, he placed his other hand on your nape and deepened the kiss when you gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly. Your tongues danced, feeling the wine you both drank earlier and sending goosebumps all over your bodies.

You were finally with your other half — your soulmate — with hearts beating fast and loud, and your minds lost in the feeling of each other.

Masterlists

#isaac being awkward and we loving it #arthur being arthur #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp fanfics #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp soulmates #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikevamp isaac x reader #ikevamp writings

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yuurei20 · 8 months

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Riddle Info Compilation part 22: Ace (pt2)

Riddle seems to have a problem with Ace’s general appearance, saying that “Ace looks quite the gentleman when he dresses properly. If only he’d do it more often.”

Riddle may a thing for proper etiquette in general, and with Ace in particular.

Riddle fixes the prefect's tie in the main story and reprimands Ace both in a vignette and during Phantom Bride for his “uncouth language.”

When Ace goes missing during Vargas Camp Riddle says, “I’ll need to instill a sense of Heartslabyul propriety into him…again.”

He also has a voice line threatening Ace with a beheading for not properly taking care of the dorm’s hedgehogs.

This is possibly a reference to a vignette where Ace helps hunt down Heartslabyul’s hedgehogs after they go missing (he had been on hedgehog duty) and when Riddle thanks him for his efforts he responds, “Wish you’d flash me that nice little smile more often instead of nagging me nonstop.”

When Riddle asks him to repeat himself Ace reacts with, “I said that for our esteemed Housewarden, I would gladly do this and more!”

Both Ace and Sebek are taken out early in Beanfest by Riddle, who says that the effort required “didn’t even amount to a pre-teatime workout.”

In a vignette we see Ace perform sleight-of-hand tricks for Riddle in an attempt to distract him from the fact Ace is not studying but the plan fails.

Ace tries to trick Riddle in a different vignette as well, painting only the fronts of rose trees red at Heartslabyul on the assumption that Riddle won’t notice the backs.

Riddle seems to be fairly used to Ace’s attempts at trickery, calling him out during Phantom Bride for trying to steal Rook’s idea to impress Eliza.

Riddle volunteers Ace as a suitor and he refuses, so Riddle dismisses him back to Heartslabyul and tells him to “tend to the hedgehogs or something. I’ll be fine with Epel here. Because unlike Ace, you possess actual bravery.”

Riddle continues with, “Pity my dorm’s freshmen are such cowards. You have more courage in the tip of your pinky than they do in their entire bodies. I suppose it’s the best of we don’t have any of those spineless worms tagging along. They’d just slow the rest of our team down.”

This successfully tricks Ace into volunteering to join the team.

(Rook’s nickname for Ace is “Monsieur Heart”, and it seems that this confused the EN team in this scene. In Rook’s original line he is commenting on how contrary Ace is, as Riddle was able to trick him into joining the team by insinuating he would fail. On EN, however, it seems they assumed Rook was referring to Riddle as “Monsieur Heart”, and so they changed the word “contrary” to “devious.” Rook’s nickname for Riddle is, however, “Roi de Roses”, so Rook is confusingly calling Ace devious after he gets tricked by Riddle on EN.)

Riddle insists upon Ace participating in Fairy Gala IF, with Ace explaining, “I tried to say no, and he got so mad he nearly had my head!...Since I’d suffer either way, might as well make sure the housewarden owes me.”

Riddle nominates Ace after being impressed by his sleight of hand trick the earlier vignette, and Ace says that he may have gotten carried away because it was one of the few times that Riddle openly complimented him.

Ace tells Riddle, “I hope you show some proper appreciated when I get back.”

When the group fails Riddle says he will take full responsibility for trusting them in the first place.

#twstriddle #twstfacts #Riddlefacts #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts

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jaehunnyy · 7 months

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Utopia | psh

Genre: fantasy!au, strangers-to-lovers, fluff, angst if you squint

Word count: 4.3k

Pairing: Seonghwa x princess!reader

Warnings: a fight against a fantasy creature, poor descriptions of a magic land, a kiss, pet names, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluehwale, @bluisheye93, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu, @starillusion13

Special tag: @a1sh1teruu, our amazing host <3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess—a little girl who brought so much joy to the King and Queen, and even to the citizens of the Aurora Kingdom. Everyone in the magical land received a godparent who swore to protect them, a fairy who had to tell them their future, be it a happy or a tragic one—yet, this princess was born with an interesting fate—one that, as much as her fairy godfather wished he could change, no one else but the chosen one could.

Seonghwa was sitting under a rich cherry blossom tree, getting more intrigued with every word he read. The sun kept on kissing his face with its warm rays, engulfing him in the summery vibe and making him lick his dry lips more often than not; yet nothing seemed to stop the pink haired boy from concentrating on the story.

Said princess was supposed to live a happy life next to her loved ones, but only for ten years. The moment the clock strikes midnight on her tenth birthday, she would turn into stone until twenty; and if the chosen one never shows, then everything is lost for the future of Utopia; the Aurora Kingdom would be left with no heir to rule the kingdom, and the unlucky girl will be petrified forever.

Seonghwa gasped a little when he read the unfortunate lines, lips slightly parted as he took a sip of his water bottle. It has been two days since he found the book scattered randomly in his yard; he thought some kids might have lost it, but when no one came to ask for it, he decided that reading it wouldn't hurt anyone. Right when he wanted to move to the next page, he looked in the direction of an old fountain, some broken whispers catching his attention. As much as he tried to ignore it, his kind soul knew better—so he took the book and went to the fountain, not minding to look behind him and see that he was being followed. He leaned over to catch a glimpse inside of it, seeing nothing but his handsome reflection in the clear water.

"Is anybody there?"

He shouted, bending over even more so he could see better what was going on in there—but that was the last thing he could do before he was pushed by a force and he fell inside helplessly, the water disappearing as he held the book tight to his chest and slid into the depth of the fountain, an unknown abyss waiting for him there.

"Sorry, Seonghwa. It's for the best." A red haired woman said, nodding to herself, before finding her way back to where she came from (more like disappearing into the void).

A wave of confusion and sadness found its way to Seonghwa's pretty face as he woke up in the middle of a garden, surrounded by red roses and so many other flowers—yet not even their sweet perfume could ease his mind. The pain in his back pierced through his body like a needle, making him wince, whilst his disheveled hair was getting in his eyes, making him pull it back rather aggressively as every move he made brought him more suffering.

"Yunho? Did you hear that too?" a deep voice was heard from afar, making the pink head flinch.

Seonghwa held one hand on his back as he shook his pants from all the dirt and dust they collected on his way there, turning his head to meet the sharp eyes of a boy, his blonde hair cladded with orange and red strikes as he gasped. He scrutinized every inch of his face, eyes laying especially on his pink hair. No one else had pink hair in that land, it had to be him.

"You are finally here! You have no idea how much we had to wait for you, it's almost too late!"

"I think you are mistaking me for someone else…" Seonghwa said weakly, looking at the man who wore a mischievous smile on his face.

"Ah, yeah? Go on the fifth page of the book you are holding so tight, let me know if I'm the one mistaking you then."

With trembling hands, Seonghwa gave one last judgy look to the stranger as he opened the book, silently reading the lines that marked his life.

Exactly when the clock struck three in the evening, the pink haired boy appeared in Mingi's well-kept garden, leaving the witch in utter shock. With confusion written all over his face and pain controlling his tired body, he flinched when Min—

He had to stop reading that right now.

"What time is it…?" He asked, praying in his head that it wouldn't match the one in the story.

"It's currently 3:03 in the evening."

His mind was playing tricks on him, it was just his imagination—or so he wanted to believe.

"Let's get you inside, you must be so tired!" Mingi cooed at the boy and grabbed his hand, only for Seonghwa to snatch it away from him.

"You are crazy. It says that you are a witch, this—this is all just a stupid trick of yours!"

Mingi wanted to protest, but someone else was faster.

"Seonghwa! Is that really you? You grew so much!" A blonde haired guy exclaimed, sticking his hand out so he could help Seonghwa stand up from the ground.

"He is in the denial phase, Yunho. Give him some time until I make some tea for us."

The tall boy nodded and helped Seonghwa get inside, settling him on a warm, comfortable couch. Seonghwa didn't waste any time and started flipping the pages of the book rapidly, in order to find something that would snap him out of it and prove this was not a dream. The only name he saw was Yunho as the words started to fade away from the book, leaving the pages blank.

"Seems like the book cannot help you anymore, Hwa. It all depends on you now. Our destiny is in your hands." Mingi said, an encouraging smile stretching his lips as he watched the boy frown.

"Let us tell you how this works." Yunho started, and for the first time, the naive pink haired boy was all ears. "The Queen and the King wished for a kid ever since they got married, yet they couldn't have one, no matter what spells and methods they tried. Suddenly, there was this witch that no one had ever seen—not even me or Mingi; she offered to help them."

"And desperately, they accepted. Yet, this witch had one single condition, to which the Queen agreed. They thought it would be something small, like having to pay some gold coins or anything; but no. The price she asked for was the princess' life." Mingi continued, making goosebumps rise on Seonghwa's skin as he listened to the two boys.

"What does… all of this have to do with me?" he asked timidly, looking at the two witches.

"You are not just a simple boy, Seonghwa. You were blessed with a heart of gold—one that can break the tragic curse of the princess. We all put our faith in you, so please, help us." Mingi said, while his hands were occupied with pouring the aromatic tea in some silver cups.

Seonghwa nodded softly, his head hung low as he felt helpless. He didn't want to disappoint, yet he had no idea what to do.

"You…" he pointed at Yunho: "You said I grew so much. Have we met before?" he asked the boy, who smiled and nodded softly.

"You were three when we first met you, I still remember how shy you were while holding your father's hand. You used to hide behind his tall figure, but when Mingi started to play with you, you forgot about everything."

Seonghwa was in awe. Every time he turned older, he would have the same dream about a beautiful land, cladded in a multicolored carpet of flowers and leaves, a magical land full of fairies and kind people; yet never did he imagine he would witness it with his own eyes.

"So how can I save you?" he asked, a determinate allure around him as Mingi and Yunho high-fived each other.

"The princess' godfather has the answer. Take your time to rest and bathe today. We will leave for the Royal Castle tomorrow, but for now, let us take care of you and your wounds."

Maybe living in the book you were reading didn't sound as bad anymore. Seonghwa loved helping people, and he was more than ready to discover powers he never knew he possessed. It all started now; he was the chosen one.

As soon as the rulers of the kingdom saw the pink haired boy, they didn't even let him bow as Mingi and Yunho instructed him; instead, they hugged him like their life depended on it (which was half true, cause their daughter's life was in his hands).

"Son," the King said, "we thought you would never come. Our daughter's twentieth birthday is in ten days. It was almost too late."

He thought before he could form any words, not wanting to annoy the king in any way: "Your Majesty… why am I the one who needs to do that?"

"Because Starlight, the witch helping Their Majesties, wanted this."

He looked in the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a green-haired boy, with porcelain skin and captivating beauty.

"You must be the princess' godfather?" he asked shyly, staring at the boy who nodded.

"My name is Yeosang."

Seonghwa nodded and lowered his head again, not bearing all the looks that were on him right then. He felt helpless, he didn't know what to do—heck, he didn't even want to be there.

"Seonghwa," the fairy asked again, looking at the boy with sharp eyes: "Have you ever met your mother?"

"I don’t really remember, my father told me she left us when I was a child. Is this relevant?" he asked, heart-shattering at the painful memory.

"Your mom is here, Seonghwa. The witch wanted you to be the one saving the princess because you are her son." Yeosang said nonchalantly.

Seonghwa's well-crafted walls came crashing right at his feet. He felt his knees weaken and he could swear that if the Queen wasn't fast enough to hold his hand, he would have fallen on the ground, the agony in his heart engulfing him as he wouldn't be able to move an inch.

"Yeosang, you shouldn't have told him such important information like that!" the King protested, yet Yeosang couldn't care more.

"I was trained and swore that I would tell my godchild their future, no matter how sad or how happy it is. It's only my nature." he said, and touched Seonghwa's hair softly. "Listen, Hwa. On Unity Day, exactly on the princess' birthday, you have to fight the dragon that's guarding her room. If you make it on time, we are all saved, but if you let yourself be defeated, we are doomed."

With these words, the straightforward fairy left, leaving Seonghwa to stare at nothing as the Queen caressed his back softly.

"Why does it have to be me? Can't you fight him?" he looked curiously at Mingi and Yunho, who nodded negatively.

"Believe us, so many of us tried. They didn't hold a chance against the creature—it knew they weren't the right ones."

"But we trust you, Seonghwa. We always did."

He raised his eyes to meet the Queen's warm ones, hugging what seemed to be the closest he would get to a motherly figure.

“How am… how am I supposed to fight a dragon? I never saw a sword in my whole life.” the boy said, engulfed in a way of gloom as he feared disappointment.

“Hwa,” Mingi started, “As soon as you see it, you will know what to do.”

“You got this, dear. All you have to do is wing it.” Yunho added, trying to give the boy the necessary strength and confidence.

"Fine. I will try my best to save the princess, Your Majesty."

With a last nod from the pink head, the King allowed him to rest, asking for the softest cushions and the tastiest foods for their special guest. They were all here for him, wanting to prove to him that he was worth the title—his mom would have never chosen him if she didn't know what he was capable of.

The long-awaited day had made its arrival. Seonghwa's body was covered in shining armor, hand gripping Callisto—the sword that The King had personally given him. He looked at his hand one more, the hand that was carrying the heaviness of his mission, reflected on the unseen silver object. Unity Day was an yearly celebration of the Aurora citizens, and today, he could mark it and make it even more precious, or destroy it forever. He didn't want to think about the later one, yet the bad thoughts were flowing into his head like the blood in his veins. He remembered the day he got here; how the sun put him into the spotlight in the same way it was reflecting into his heavy armor now, making him look like a star from above. A ghost of a smile crept over his face before he brushed all his thoughts and took composure, prepared to accomplish the mission of his life. The moment he pulled the knight's helmet on his face, it seemed like even the skies were cheering for him as adrenaline flew around him. Looking back for one last time, Seonghwa took a step forward to test the waters—then another one, more determined this time; he kept on stepping until he was facing the sleeping creature.

The dragon was purple, its scales gaining a reflecting effect whenever the sun's rays touched its skin; it sent stabbing tingles through Seonghwa's spine. It seemed to feel someone's presence immediately, sniffing and getting closer until its head got at the same level as Seonghwa's body. This is terrifying, he thought, but he could just deal with it now. Seonghwa swayed the sword softly into the dragon's direction, provoking it; and it only took one gesture for the dragon to start spilling fire and burn whatever was in its way. The boy took some steps back and hid under a rock—the only source of protection he could touch, yet it was soon shattered by the dragon's rage. The pink head gained some courage and moved forward, the sword ripping through the dragon's skin as it groaned, giving Seonghwa time to serve another hit; yet he was in danger. The creature's eyes turned into a dark crimson shade as rage could be read all over its face, making Seonghwa look even smaller compared to it. The boy started to run further down the hall, distracting the creature so he could hit it just a bit more. Right when he climbed a higher rock and was about to hit it in the heart, he lost his balance, falling down as the creature let out an evil groan.

The crowd gasped in shock as the boy stopped moving, leaving the dragon to bathe in its own glory. Was this how it all ended? Was this their tragic fate? It could have been, but only if Starlight wasn't witnessing it all. She could have destroyed the dragon with a little flick of her wand, yet she didn't want to—this was her son's mission. This didn't mean she couldn't help though—and that's when, while everyone was petrified in agony and desperation, her little work made Seonghwa wake up, aiming right for the creature's heart and hitting it strong with the sword, snapping it out of its distraction and seeing how its eyes lost their light, how it crumbled on the floor, defeated. With a shaky motion of his head, he looked around, searching for the one who helped him—and when his eyes met a red haired woman with a warm smile and a pair of blue eyes, his heart swelled with both pain and happiness. He saw his mother smiling at him for the first time since he grew up. He winked at her and went into the room, taking his knight helmet off in the process and seeing the petrified figure of the princess. Leaving his sword aside, he touched the stone softly, a small wave of electricity forming between them as he saw the little rocks crumble at his feet. He took a step back when the silhouette got engulfed in a strong light, making him cover his eyes as he got blinded by it; yet when he opened them again, he would have rather looked at the light. There she was, the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on; the one everyone waited for—the princess. He made it. Everyone came closer to the two characters, cheering for Seonghwa and for the princess, standing in front of them for the first time in ten years, flesh and bone.

There you were, in all of your glory. Your silky hair was braided with seasonal flowers, matching the ones embroidered on your long dress. With your skin covered in a pink blush, matching the guy's hair, you simply could not take your eyes off of each other. Seonghwa was always a believer in love at first sight, and if it meant getting goosebumps while feeling your heart make its way out of your chest, then yes—he might fall in love soon. You were no witch, yet you put the strongest spell on him—the spell of love.

"You look kinda immaculate for a person who was petrified for ten years." Seonghwa said bashfully, his fingers brushing over his nape as you smiled wide, flashing your pearly teeth at him before trapping him in a bear hug.

"You saved me! You… Thank you so much, Seonghwa. I knew you were worth believing in."

Seonghwa was still easily taken aback by how everyone knew who he was—he still had to get accustomed to being in a land full of witches, fairies and mind readers.

"Well… my job here is done, then. Happy birthday, princess." Seonghwa whispered and detached himself from the hug, starting to get rid of some armor pieces as he got closer to the exit.

"Wait," the princess screamed, following him: "Won't you stay for dinner?"

“But your family—“ he tried protesting, yet it was in vain.

“We would be more than happy if you stayed, son.” The King said, before gripping his long lost daughter in his arms like the most significant treasure.

It’s safe to say that the boy couldn’t say no to this opportunity; but before that, he had to find his mother again. His eyes roamed through the crowd, searching for the red head. He started running when he saw his mother trying to leave, catching her wrist, right before the gates could close.

“Mom,” the pink head said softly, “I think I deserve an explanation.”

She looked at her son with teary eyes, hands wrapping around his waist securely.

“Oh, dear,” she said lovingly, “let me tell you everything.”

This day started to mean a lot for Seonghwa as well, as it was not only the day he gained his sweet victory, but also the day he found out that his mother belonged to this world, yet his father was a simple human.

“I tried to bring you back, my dear son, I really did; but I could never find you, until the day I brought you here. By being the chosen one, you saved two lives; both mine and the princess.

Seonghwa’s pearly tears started to slide down his rosy cheeks when he found out his mom did all of this for him, only for them to reunite again. He hugged her tightly, his head on her shoulder as he couldn’t stop sobbing.

“And thank you for saving my life out there, my dear mom.”

Two months passed, and you found yourself witnessing the last month of the awaited summer; and along with it, the new feelings that started to build inside your and the pink haired hero's heart. Together with longing, because he missed his old house more than ever, he also had the chance to feel love, to feel welcome in a land he felt like he didn't fully belong to. He learned how to forgive—from watching his mom cast spells and create cures, to helping her and learning so many useful things for his magic blood. And last but not least, he learned how to love with every fiber in his body. He grew to adore the way your hand fit perfectly into his, like they were made especially for each other; the way your giggles would turn into music when they reached his ears, whenever he put a beautiful rose in your hair, right behind your ear. The little cheek peck he would get after giving you fragrant flower bouquets, or the midnight walks you two had around the castle, night robes touching the ground as you walked through a path of freedom.

Of course, you had a lot of things to unpack with your parents and dear friends, the court ladies, and everyone who served you—yet, you felt like Seonghwa was one of your priorities at the moment. Your feelings pictured the same exact love illusion whenever you saw him. You loved how his eyes would light up when he was listening to you, or the way his red, blushy cheeks would match his full, rosy lips and his cotton candy hair. You loved star-gazing with him, his head on your lap as you unveiled each other's past. It was a special connection—you had to let him know before he could leave you again. One day, you prepared a beautiful picnic for the two of you; jam sandwiches were laying on one side of the wool blanket as you settled some of the fresh pastry in the middle, pouring some of Mingi's tea (one that became Seonghwa's favorite) into the mugs. You were humming a beautiful ballad until you felt a pair of warm hands covering your eyes, a broad smile stretching your rose lips as you already knew the familiar feeling.

"You came," you said, removing his hands from your eyes and turning so you could face him.

"Who am I to disagree with my princess' request?" he smiled, settling on the blanket next to you and gasping at all the goodies that were accompanying you.

"What is with all of this? Are we celebrating anything special?" he asked curiously, grinning at you in an innocent manner.

"It can be either a failure or an achievement, but for this, I need your help." you said cheekily, tongue poking at your right cheek as you half smirked.

"Last time I heard this I got a bit traumatized," Seonghwa snorted softly, yet it all went away when he saw your serious expression.

"I have something to tell you."

"Oh? I have something to tell you as well!" He smiled, grabbing your hands in his softly.

"How about we say it together? At three!" You said excitedly, smiling when he approved your sudden idea.

The seconds passed in a blink, honey-coated words ringing in the middle of nature.

"I'm in love with yo—what?" you both said simultaneously.

With a squeeze of your hand, the boy signaled you to start first.

"I truly fell for you, Seonghwa. For your gestures, your innocence, your courage."

Seonghwa leaned in closer, brushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I fell in love with you almost immediately. You really know how to charm someone, had me petrified as soon as I saw you."

You blushed, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"Is that funny for you?" you asked, crossing your arms on your chest as he smiled.

"It's what brought us closer." he said, closing his eyes.

His hands grabbed your shoulders and yours cupped his face, caressing the smooth skin as he captured your petal-like lips in his, molding together into a chaste kiss. The loving gesture was full of purity and real feelings, reflecting the strong bond between the two of you—a sweet connection that showed you belonged to each other. You didn't want the kiss to end; yet when you two needed to catch your breaths, you pressed your foreheads on each other's, enjoying the silence, the only motion around you being your beating hearts.

"What are we going to do when you leave…?" you asked, eyes becoming teary as you thought about having to give up on him, right when life became kind to you.

"I truly miss home, yes. But I found a new home here, next to the girl I love, next to my mother, and to the friends I made. This is also my family." he said, caressing your hair.

You leaned more into the touch, your head laying on his shoulder as he pecked your forehead, lips hovering over your soft skin for a while.

"My mom taught me how to travel between words. A part of me will always belong at home, but for now, I am with you, I promise."

And Seonghwa did keep his promise. He stayed next to his lover's side, laughing at silly things, such as the cat ears she styled with his pink hair, or how the King would playfully scold them for being clumsy and stepping on the wrong sides of the yard. In Aurora Kingdom, Seonghwa learned that Utopia was more than perfection—it meant love, forgiving, and healing. In reality, he had created his whole new paradise, surrounded by the people he deeply needed, along with the happiness they brought to each other. He was the chosen one, the one who got a second chance to repair things, the one who got a free ticket to eternal joy.

The princess and her pretty soon-to-be-prince discovered their own Utopia, in a world full of love and longing. They built their own castle of joy and spiritual fulfillment—and yes, they lived happily ever after.

The end

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tockamybeloved · 2 months

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Considering Canon Fate & Justice

First, my thanks to this post and tags within, which prompted me to write out and share more of my thoughts on Ronghao's canonical ending. (Please forgive any errors. I will try my best to keep on topic since while writing this out many thoughts developed about other critical interactions. Welcome to hear and share other thoughts / discussion / or if you think I missed a point. These are all personal opinions and my interpretation of the work of art.) While discussing his ending in canon (and redemption) or if there was a way within the show to change Ronghao's nefarious deeds, I think he had no reason to change his plans and the ending was fitting.

Revive His Shifu at All Costs, Restore Her to Her Rightful Place

(Look at this face. This is peace. This is heart-swelling pride at seeing his goal reached)

Once Chidi was reinstated as god of War, he viewed his plan as complete success.

What is troubling - he did not anticipate (and this drove me mad regarding the show's writers) how disintegrated her spirit would become by being kept alive by evil qi. There was no other way to end their story. She would have continued to kill, and Ronghao would have supported her. He felt some guilt at killing the 3000 guards, and the villagers they came across, but admits even if she were to kill him, he’d do the same again.

In their last scene in the courtyard he is willing to let her take his life. He drops his sword. He is offering himself. He was expecting her to kill him and take his qi (which also was tainted). Initially his self sacrifice was the same plan he always had: keep Chidi alive. (There is also more to be said about how when he confesses to her that he has brought Tai Sui with him, he is trying to get her to hate him. He doesn't want her to feel guilty to for taking his life. Yet he also tosses her sword away when the moment comes.) Yes, he goes into that courtyard wanting to do whatever it will take to now never be separated. But how will that play out?

Then we come to that heartbreaking moment when he falls to his knees.

Once he understood she "had a mortal heart" for him, her own death at his hand made more sense. Ronghao understood himself to be the one to take her life this time. He may have hoped just seconds before that there was another way. ‘She has to die in every life for her beloved one.’ I think this is the reason he decided to kill her. To fulfill her fate. To close the cycle. Not to stop her from destroying more of Shuiyuntian or fairies or whatever, but to complete her Fate. It’s not a ‘mercy’ to kill her, but enacting the last line of her destiny. Chidi asked Siming how to change fate. The reply was: 'The Dead cannot be revived - that is the law. If you must bring someone back, it will bring disaster. Chidi knew the price for bringing Ronghao back from the dead would doom her. The pure understanding from Ronghao in this moment!

The final moment, when he will pay the price for himself *and* Chidi, is the only time he dares to touch her face. (Yes, this act too is another topic for a separate post.)

Tai Sui's Lie: A Factor in Ronghao Destroying His Primordial Spirit

So yes, in the show, there is no other way for it to end. Chidi must die and he 'sort of' redeems some of the things he's done by sacrificing himself in front of Tai Sui. I suppose he thought destroying his primordial spirit would weaken Tai Sui, or injure him. OR: It’s not impossible to think Ronghao would see it this way: Tai Sui would eventually die / be locked away since Ronghao now refused to be controlled and provide him with evil qi and Chidi could not be Tai Sui's vessel. Because that's the line Tai Sui had been telling Ronghao for 30,000 years. Without the evil qi, Tai Sui 'dies' (although we know this is a lie). Ronghao goes to his death believing he will help destroy the evil god and in a way this act does redeem Ronghao, because he believes no one else can refine evil qi and feed Tai Sui and he doesn't understand Tai Sui will eventually seek out and find another vessel. (again, confused by this choice of the writers to make Ronghao so short sighted here)

Chidi accuses Tai Sui of bewitching Ronghao, which the evil god counters as: 'No, I just gave him hope.'

In the end, Ronghao does what he originally intended when he brought Chidi’s body to the cave in the first place.

Ending Thoughts Storytelling wise, their ending in the show makes sense. It is less about Justice, and more about no matter what - having no choice in what Fate has planned. It is predestination with the only variables being how long it takes you to get there, and by what means. You can take any road you want - the end is already predetermined.

*referenced: Ep 7, 26, 27, 32, 34

Thank you @moonsorchid and @justarabidlittleyingzhao for sparking these thoughts. (I hope you don't mind the tag! If you do, let me know and I will remove it.)

(now back to writing my fic and changing Fate. Because as is the show's central message: Only Love is not Fate) Bonus gif because ANGST

#love between fairy and devil #my thoughts #left out her poem #that's another post #justarabidlittleyingzhao #moonsorchid #agreeing with canon #but also writing a fic to change it #Ronghao #is enormously interesting to examine #if you read the tags in TCNS one is: attempts at therapy #having read comments on various tumblr posts #I understand no one else is interested in this arc #it seems no matter what #he is condemned in the eyes of fandom #this only makes me more curious #to explore motivations of characters #xu haiqiao #and his impressive acting skills

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bippot · 7 months

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Summary: How many times does Vigilante need to get injured before Harcourt finally gives in and hires a medic to help out with the squad's injuries? Far too many times, that's how many.

When it's uncovered that a fancy hotel is linked to, not only what's left of the legion of butterflies, but also a string of weird deaths and missing persons reports, the only two for the job are lovesick Adrian and the newbie.

Tags: Canon-Typical ViolenceGun Violence, Blood and Injury, Undercover as a Couple, Fluff, Idiots in Love. Fake/Pretend Relationship, Summer Vacation, Butterflies, Alien Invasion, Stitches

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

Previous Chapter: No More Velvet

The Harcourt-L/N family were badasses. Their father was a stern military man who taught his daughters everything they needed to protect themselves from the dangers of the world around them. It was a family tradition to go to the shooting range every birthday and the girls were placed in taekwondo classes as soon as they could walk.

Their mothers, however, were very different. Emilia's mother had been a Russian Olympic gymnast back in the day and had envisioned her daughter would follow in that same path. Whether Emilia wanted that or not, she wasn't concerned with. Y/N's mother had been a nurse that had patched up Ol' Daddy Harcourt after a bar fight he had gotten into, and since he was no longer married to Emilia's mother, the pair hit it off from there.

Emilia didn't like the new addition to her family at first. Little Y/N was born and immediately stole all the attention away from little Emilia. But, Y/N grew on her, and it wasn't long before the girl found herself getting used to having a younger sister around. It became a very common sight to find the young blonde with a toddler on her lap and a book in her hands, reading whatever book about mermaids or unicorns or fairies that was picked on that day.

Y/N wasn't as withdrawn as the rest of Emilia's family. Her father barely cracked a smile in that gruff old man type of way. And her mother seemed to only remember she had a daughter when it came to her gymnastics training and competitions. When she won was the only time she was awarded with any sort of affection from the woman who had birthed her. But from her sister, all Emilia needed to do was breathe and Y/N would try attacking her with love.

So why Harcourt ever decided to go into espionage was beyond her. In that line of work, it's best to detach from everyone who knows you.

At first, Emilia didn't do that. After Y/N finished high school, Emilia was dragging her down the same path she'd been down.The Department of Extranormal Operations had employed them both once upon a time. But, after a mission gone wrong, Y/N was taking an extended leave of absence that eventually ended with her moving across the country and attempting to be a 'normal' person, where she remained until a month and a half ago.

There was a moment when the squad were driving to the airport where Emilia looked across at her sister and felt an indescribable urge to call everything off. Obviously that wouldn't happen no matter how hard she argued. Waller would just rearrange the flight and ensure that everyone did their jobs, no matter if she had to imprison Emilia to do so.

"Don't put that in your mouth." Y/N lowered Adrian's hand away from his mouth, pushing the custard cream looking shampoo bar that he was supposed to be packing into his bag away from his gob.

'This fucking idiot was the one who is protecting my Y/N?' Emilia thought. If she disliked him before, she would certainly loathe him if anything happened to her baby sister during this mission. She was putting a lot of faith into a guy that just tried to eat soap.

Before the newlyweds departed, Emilia pretended she was adding something into Adrian's backpack and subtly threatened in his ear, "If she's hurt in any way, I'll hunt you down and rip your prostate out of your mouth."

"But the prostate is in the butt?"

"Exactly. That's how fucking far my fist is going to punch into your goofy looking face."

Adrian took a step back and hid behind Y/N as they said their goodbyes, his eyes avoiding Harcourt and her hateful gaze. Emilia was pretty sure she could feel his heartbeat pick up through the floor, and that brought a little smug smile onto her face. She loved being intimidating.

As the sisters embraced each other tightly, Emilia whispered, "Try and avoid a repeat of last time, okay?"

"I think I learnt my lesson."

"Good. Now go and make contact as soon as it's safe."

"Yes, mother."

With that, it was time to separate and for the mission to truly begin. All the prep work that could be done had been done and it was go time.

Soon, the newlyweds were going through security and with the help of one of John's tried and tested gadgets - one that he had jokingly called The Metal Muffler and never came up with a serious name, bounced back any electromagnetic field emitted by a scanner before it could bounce off the metal and sound the alarms - they passed through without trouble despite their bags each holding a pistol and very illegal to fly with gear.

"How long do we have to wait?" Adrian whined, his foot bouncing impatiently against the floor in annoying patterns. His eyes darted between Y/N and all of the other passengers that were also sitting around and awaiting the moment they could get on the plane, where they'd be sat for even more time until they finally touched down in Dubai.

Patience had never been a virtue that Vigilante possessed. Everyone knew that. He'd be fine once they got onto the plane and watched one or two in-flight movies, but it seemed as if there were some delays on the airport side of things and the pair would have to stay idle for a few hours more than expected.

"You're lucky that I managed to get John to slip something into my bag when Emilia wasn't looking."

Y/N lifted her Chanel XXL carry-on handbag onto her lap and opened the flap so he could see inside. He grinned as he recognized what he was seeing and reached in to grab her Nintendo Switch that he often used whenever he came to her hotel room.

His fingers were immediately pressing the on button and he was wiggling in his seat with excitement to start playing. As the game loaded, Y/N rested her head against the hand nearest to him and attempted to get some well earned shut eye but she was distracted by the screen and how effortlessly good he was at Breath of the Wild.

"Do you want a go? We could have a game of Smash?" he offered, already engrossed in the game and, honestly, he was hoping she'd say no.

"It's okay. I'll just watch you play."

After a few minutes Y/N shifted and let her temple press against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Adrian sighed quietly as he played, enjoying the feeling of Y/N's body against his and wrapped his arm around her so she could tuck her head more comfortably against his collarbone. This new position impeded his game a little, but that was nothing a bit of awkward stretching couldn't fix.

From the outside, they looked as if they were a perfectly normal couple, which was beneficial as another couple were clearly going to the same place. A man dressed in a pristine suit was in the process of yelling at one of the workers as his wife stood beside him with a smug sneer and a 'The Monarch Hotel' branded Caprese-esque tote bag precariously perched on her elbow.

Despite her eyes being closed, Y/N hadn't drifted off. There was too much hustle and bustle and people chatting just a smidge too loud - especially the guy yelling - for her to actually be able to sleep. Instead, she relaxed and quietly chuckled to herself at the occasional grunt and curse whenever Adrian accidentally messed up. He was trying to focus on the game so he could keep his emotions under control but he couldn't seem to stop looking at her.

It came to the point where he placed the Switch in his lap for a second and just gazed at her, completely unaware that she was awake. Link got murdered during the break he was taking to survey her face, but he didn't care. And since he thought she was asleep, he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair and jumped out of his skin when her sleepy smile widened. He quickly grabbed the controller again and pretended that he hadn't done such a thing.

Eventually, they were allowed to board. The pair hauled themselves all the way to first class to sit their asses down into a way too comfortable lazy-boy looking chairs that had a plastic barrier in between that could be lifted up if they wanted to talk without their eyeline obscured. Each cubicle had a privacy panel above that was pulled into place at the first opportunity Y/N had. It was as if they were in their own little bubble. A comfortable bubble that came with a television set, a mini fridge stocked to full with snacks under a desk, which seemed a little redundant when the hostesses brought out a food menu to pick from.

"What the fuck is gravadlax?" Adrian whispered as he scanned all the fancy meals he saw listed on display.

He didn't know what half of this shit was. It was all posh person gibberish.

"It's like a Nordic version of smoked salmon."

"Oh." He wasn't a fan of fish. The texture was downright disgusting to him. "What are you getting?"

"The togarashi marinated halloumi poke bowl with sushi rice sounds good to me."

"Would I like that?"

Shrugging, she settled back into her chair and rested her head against the soft leather headrest, mumbling, "There's a tray of Buttermilk chicken sliders, you'd definitely like those." That sounded a lot better.

In a matter of moments, the stewardess approached the pair and took their orders with a pleasant smile. They both ordered and squabbled a little when it came down to picking a movie to watch but they eventually managed to agree on Renfield (2023). All in all, the flight was cushy and, quite frankly, inspired some sense of false belief that this mission would be an easy one. It would be one with lavish add-ons, but also need patience and a certain amount of subtle diligence to pull it off successfully.

They relaxed, they slept, they ate, they watched a movie, and then they arrived in Dubai. And when the car and chauffeur the hotel had sent arrived to pick the pair up in a limousine, they'd almost forgotten that they weren't on holiday. They were just two pals on vacation.

That was until they walked through the huge glass double gold brimmed doors and were greeted by a middle aged man with a bouffant, a permanent smile and a salmon suit as declared, "Welcome. Welcome to the Monarch Hotel. Judging by the fact that I don't recognise your faces, you must be Marty and Sidney Bardot?"

"That's us," Y/N smiled and wrapped her hand around Adrian's bicep.

"Splendid! Here at the hotel, we are very selective about our clients," the man leaned in closer to whisper, "To let you in on a little secret, we've only taken on one other couple this season and that was supposed to be it. But when you were inquiring about your honeymoon, well, we couldn't say no now. Could we?"

Y/N let out a huff of a chuckle from her nose.

"Tell me, how was your wedding?" The host smiled widely, clearly happy to give the two lovebirds the opportunity to gush about their romantic experience.

Adrian realised at that moment that he was yet to make a sound. He knew he'd never be able to keep up a shy and reserved front for this entire time, so he opted to speak up. "I cried my eyes out the entire day, but like, in a manly 'oh, I get to spend my entire life with this babe' kind of way."

The host laughed and clapped his hands together. "Yes, yes, very manly." He turned away from them to gesture towards the hallway, and as the pair followed him he explained, "We've got your suite ready and raring to go. I'll have our bellhop take your suitcases inside, and I know it's early and you're ready to catch up on some sleep, but I'd be more than happy to show you around the place." Y/N nodded. "If you'll follow me please, Mr Bardot, Mrs Bardot."

As they trailed after him through the lobby, Adrian gave Y/N a quick nudge in the side and way too exaggeratedly nodded towards a security camera located in a corner. She fake giggled as if he'd whispered something scandalous to her and leaned in to quietly urge, "You gotta be more subtle than that, babe."

'Babe.' How dare that word roll off her tongue and come out as naturally as it did. How dare that small gesture turn into a whole bunch of butterflies swarming his stomach as a result of it. How dare his brain start to freak out over just one silly little word. He shouldn't be this affected over something as simple and innocuous as that.

Yet, here he was with a coy smile on his lips and a light blush colouring his cheeks, unable to stop himself from staring at her longingly as she spoke to the man who was leading them through the hotel, seemingly oblivious to the effect her words had.

Although the host - who they found out called himself 'Sparrow' - was incredibly enthusiastic, the tour was fairly uneventful. The hotel was large, spacious and extravagant. Everything about it screamed that it was meant to be filled to the brim with the richest people on the planet. From its marble floors and chandeliers to its towering windows that overlooked the beautiful beach, the place reeked of money.

Every single room, even the janitor's closet that they happened to walk past as the janitor walked out of, they all were bigger than Adrian's apartment back home. Every single door was ornate. Every inch of the walls were covered in art that must've cost thousands of dollars per piece. It was a museum of wealth. It was a palace. But most of all, it was a sanctuary. Throughout the hotel, familiar iconography was dotted around. A painting here and there. A bust sitting precariously on an ornate coffee table. Wings engraved into a column. They were surrounded by images of butterflies.

In any other situation, that would've been pleasant. But they knew better.

When they finally got to their room, it was around the time that the other guests were waking up for the day. As the duo got halfway into their room door frame, the couple in the room next to them walked straight up to them. "You must be the new arrivals!" An overly cheery man with blonde hair grinned at the pair with wide sparkling grey eyes while his equally chipper partner who looked just as cheerful and chirpy. "I'm Steve!" The man extended his hand and waited for them to shake before introducing his friend. "This is my wife, Sam."

Y/N plastered a fake smile on her face. "Hiya!" And that's all it took before they were bombarded by hugs. Adrian didn't move an inch and Y/N let out a surprised, "Oh," as she awkwardly patted Sam's back. "Uh, nice to meet you!" She exclaimed as she was released.

Adrian just kept nodding along as if he hadn't fully dissociated the moment a stranger crowded his senses. His brain was going at a million miles per hour as he attempted to process everything. Obviously, Y/N noticed as his hand began to twitch, his fingers flicking around, searching for anything to latch onto but coming up empty handed.

But he wasn't empty handed for long since Y/N slipped her hand into his. If not to comfort him - which was her main objective - but to hide any body language that would point to them being anything less than welcoming. "I'm Sidney and this is my husband - wow, it still sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?" Adrian was still nodding along. "This is Marty, my main squeeze," Y/N declared with a chuckle.

Her response brought a wide smile to their faces. "Ahhh, that explains why we haven't seen you around before, you're the honeymoon couple, yeah? We didn't mean to intrude. You're probably jetlagged and want to relax, yeah?"

Steve's question prompted Adrian to nod again with a weak smile. "Yep," was all he could manage without letting out an unmanly whimper.

Thankfully, the couple seemed to finally understand that the new arrivals were in need of some alone time and didn't push things. Instead, the pair waved as they left, departing with a way too loud, "Well, we'll leave you two to settle in. You'll be at the mixer this evening, right?"

Both Y/N and Adrian nodded, still smiling at the couple and waving as they stepped away from the door and closed it shut behind them. They breathed in deeply and allowed the smiles to drop away from their lips as soon as the coast was clear.

Abruptly, Adrian swiped his hand away from her grip and took a step backwards, rubbing his head and looking as though he wanted to crawl under the duvet and hide. "Sorry," he muttered, "Just, uh... I've... I don't know them and they, uh, they just... made me really uncomfortable when they... when they - "

"It's okay. Why don't we sit down, huh? I think we both could do with a few moments of silence."

He stared at her quizzically but nodded and agreed to join her on the bed. She lay down first, folded her arms underneath her head and stared upwards. Adrian, however, was entirely focused on the slow steady rise and fall of her chest and tried to match his breathing to hers.

After a few minutes of quiet, she turned onto her side so that she could catch his gaze. "So..." She mused, "You wanna start getting ready for bed or are you planning on staring at me forever?" She raised an eyebrow, but there was no bite to her words. Just warmth and amusement.

The corners of his lips curled up into a faint grin. "Which one would you prefer, Mrs Bardot?"

"Go get ready for bed, Mr Bardot."

All of their luggage had been neatly placed in front of the wardrobes and their bags on their dresser next to an extravagant gift basket. Y/N hoisted her suitcase onto the bed and casually began searching through it for one of Auggie's devices that had been hidden in a secret compartment that had been built into the bottom of the bag.

When she found the device she was looking for, she grabbed it and turned the device on. The screen flickered to life, displaying several dots on a little map with one of them suspiciously close to their current location. Since the device looked like a smartphone, Y/N pretended as if she was texting as she zoomed in to evaluate whether that ping was a microphone or camera in the room with them.

"You almost done, baby?" Y/N called out in her sweetest voice. She heard Adrian shuffle over to where she was standing, confusion evident on his face that didn't dissipate when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her smile remained plastered on her face as he returned the embrace.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, his lips brushing the hair right by her ear.

"There's a camera in the gift basket."

To ensure he didn't clearly react, she guided his lips to hers so that his face would be blocked from the view of the camera. It was a slow, soft press of lips against lips and yet it felt like fireworks went off in Adrian's chest. He melted into the kiss instantly. It was warm and sweet and gentle, like a soft summer breeze that was blowing gently against his skin and making goosebumps appear on his arms because of how pleasant and calming and soothing it felt. It didn't matter that it was for show. It was just a nice thing to experience.

"Ready to take a nap?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm just going to do my skincare and I'll be back, okay?" She kissed his cheek and then planted another lingering kiss on the top of his forehead before she pulled herself away from him completely and shuffled into the bathroom.

Once she'd checked that there wasn't any surveillance in the bathroom, Y/N was quick to catch the squad up on everything and sent along the IP and device information she'd gathered to John so he could swap the current feed with his fancy schmancy motion captured artificially animated footage.

Unknown: Take a while to override yours without affecting any of the others. Keep it up for two.

Adrian had gotten under the blanket and was waiting for the moment Y/N came back into the room. He felt a little awkward sitting on camera in just his underwear and had scrambled beneath the covers as soon as he could. Even though he understood that this whole ordeal was necessary, he couldn't help but feel a small wave of uneasiness wash over him when it was put on a spotlight.

As she reentered the room, Adrian was able to relax somewhat. She wore a tank top and panties with pink polka dots and a pair of white socks that came halfway up her calf. He admired the sight silently as he lay there, his eyes never once leaving her, until she crawled her way across the bed and onto his lap, giving him a wink that let him know to go along with what she was doing.

"How you feelin', big guy? Tired?"

"Way too tired."

"Too tired?" Y/N dragged her pointer finger down his chest, down his abs to the waistband of his underwear and gave him a seductive look that had him shivering involuntarily. "It is our honeymoon, afterall."

He groaned as his hands slid up her thighs to rest on her hips as he leaned forward slightly, desperately wanting to give in cause that would be awesome, right? He's in paradise and gets to get it on with the woman he's falling in love with? That's fucking sick! But no, he has a job to do, a mission to think about, and it doesn't need to be complicated so soon.

"I know, but..." His eyes trailed down to her mouth for a split second before he snapped his head back up and cleared his throat nervously. He looked up at her with the biggest puppy eyes as if she'd hung the stars, the moon and the sun for him and begged her to leave it at that. He was an impulsive fella so it would be easy to forget the mission and just get lost in each other, as they often did back in Evergreen.

"When we wake up?"

"When we wake up," he repeated with a shy small smile gracing his lips.

With the horny newlywed act done, Y/N slid off him and sunk into the duvet beside him. As she cuddled herself into his side, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

"Should be safe when we wake," she reassured, her voice just audible enough for his ears. "You want me to play with your hair until you fall asleep?"

"Yeah, yeah please," he murmured softly as he buried his nose into her neck, inhaling deeply as she slowly started stroking his curls with her fingers. Y/N could feel every inch of him relaxing under her touch, his body leaning further into hers with each passing stroke, his breathing slowly starting to even out. Soon enough, she too fell into blissful unconsciousness with an arm tightly wound around her waist.

They'd woken up embracing a few times now, and this one was definitely the sweetest. In their sleep, Y/N had turned to face away from him and he simply wrapped himself around her like a snake around its prey. His chest pressed flush to her back and his arms wrapped around her possessively and securely, his hand clasped in hers. One of his ankles hooked around her calf as if he was trying to keep her firmly glued to him. Since they were so intertwined, however, any movement or change of position threatened to disturb their slumber. So when he stirred, she did too.

"This is cosy."

Her voice was hoarse and sleepy and barely above a whisper and so devastatingly sexy that Adrian wanted to melt into a puddle of mush on the spot. His heart thumped wildly and all rational thought had disappeared from his brain at the sound. It wasn't until she craned her head back to look at him and giggled at his absurd bedhead and dopey expression that he realised he must have been making some sort of pathetic noise to get her attention.

"I've slept better since I met you."

"I'm glad I have such a positive effect on your sleep schedule," she said in mock seriousness, a playful smile playing around her lips. A chuckle escaped Adrian's lips as he shifted and nuzzled his face deeper into the curve of her neck and shoulder.

It didn't escape her notice when his fingers began to trace circles against the soft skin of her stomach. They were warm, calloused and rough, but still somehow so incredibly gentle. She closed her eyes as goosebumps formed along her body at his actions and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to shudder. She was being selfish. She knew this but she didn't care; she just wanted to enjoy the moment for what it was. She wanted to savour it.

"We gotta wake up and head to lunch, don't we?" Adrian asked with his head still nestled against her collarbone.

"Yup."

"Can we stay like this for a few more minutes? I don't want to move just yet."

"Yup."

After those fateful few minutes passed, Y/N lifted herself out of his grip and slipped off the bed. Adrian watched from beneath hooded eyelids as she stood up and stretched her limbs before walking towards the suitcase to pick out something to wear while he sat there, staring at her as if she was some sort of mythical creature.

Maybe she was a nymph. Or an elf. Or a pixie. Or even a succubus. Who knows really? All he knew was that he found it extremely hard to tear his gaze away from her and whenever she was in the same room as him, his eyes always seemed to trail after her. It was like a magnet and he had to physically force himself to turn his head and focus elsewhere again.

This whole situation was ridiculous. Why was he acting like a lovesick teenage boy with a crush? He was the ruthless Vigilante. The man who killed people like flies. And his focus should be on their mission and nothing else.

Yet, here he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking so damn adorable with the duvet covering his lap as he sat back on his hands that it made Y/N giggle to herself when she glanced back at him. She retreated into the bathroom to get changed and check if the signal had been rerouted with a coy smile.

And she'd expected him to have moved when she returned. But no. He had lay back down and was smiling at the ceiling with his arms under his head as if the very idea of getting up was impossible.

"Outta bed."

"Nope."

"I'll bribe you. What do you want?" She offered playfully as she walked over to his side of the bed and knelt on the part of the mattress by his arm. "It's how I used to get 'problem' students to get to eat their lunch."

That got his attention. With a quick jerk, he sat up tall, his nose bumping into hers, and pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her waist. All this fake affection was like a drug. And there was no doubt in Adrian's mind that he was a Y/N addict. He had been for a while, but he was getting his fix more frequently these days.

"I would like a hug."

"I can do that."

Without hesitation, Y/N brought her arms around him and rested them on the small of his back, letting one of her legs dangle off the end of the bed. She allowed him to hold her for about three seconds before then he started tickling her sides causing her to burst out in a batch of giggles, squirming away from him in a feeble attempt to get away from his attack. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat the entire time as he continued to torment her until, finally, she managed to wriggle away from him and roll backwards onto the floor.

"That was a smart trick, Mr Bardot."

"Why thank you, ma'am!"

"Now get ready!"

"Will do, ma'am!" he hollered as he grabbed his clothes from the bag and ran to do as she said.

The pair eventually left their hotel room and ventured into the dining hall, which was as grand as the rest of the place, and from the moment they stepped in, it was obvious why their mission had been accelerated.

Sitting at the table nearest one of the enormous windows was the Queen Caroline of Markovia. They had been sent undercover to prevent an alien taking over the ruler of a European country that is well documented as having the most meta humans per capita.

Their little holiday had just got far more serious.

Next Chapter: Alien Perverts

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