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nyashykyunnie · 4 months

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˗ˏˋ Solo Leveling Oc: Sung Kiwoo◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕂𝕚𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

╰┈➤ ❝ [ A Child of Beauty and Glee; The Prince of the Blue Waves.] ¡! ❞

There was a deafening silence around me as I drifted in cold and motionless waters. The sound of a humpback whale interrupted my moment of solitude, so I opened my eyes, only to be met by the empty waters with the sun peeking from above.

It was a beautiful sight.

With the song of the whale drifting all around me— I felt at peace.

…

I sat up, startled and shaken for some reason. The door clicked, and my brother entered.

His jet black hair was unkempt and lazy gray eyes peeked behind them. His initial nonchalance switched to a worried expression as he went over to me.

"Did you have a nightmare again?" Suho asked as he sat on the edge of my bed and placed his hand up against my forehead. "Well, you're not running a fever, that's good."

Ah, right, nightmares.

I was prone to them for some reason. I've always had terrible dreams containing beasts that couldn't be processed by the human mind. They wouldn't do anything, but their empty stares frightens me all the time. In the worst cases, I would wake up running a fever after having those dreams.

"...Not a nightmare" I finally replied. "It was just… Whale songs."

"Whale songs?" Suho cocked up an eyebrow and removed his hand. "Which whale?"

"Megaptera Novaeangliae." I said as I rubbed my eyes.

"English."

"....Humpback Whale."

Suho then just shrugged and ruffled up my bed hair even further before saying with a smile, "At least it's not a bad dream. Now take a shower, mom made pancakes for you."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be down in a bit. You can eat without me" I told him as I got off of my bed and started fixing the sheets.

"Not a chance, baby brother" Suho teased and I threw him a disapproving look.

"I'm only an hour late born after you!" I protested at him, "So don't call me a baby!"

"Sure, sure,..." Brother waved his hand dismissively and approached the door. "Baby brother"

I clicked my tongue, obviously offended at the time baby. I'm going to be 18 soon so how come he still refers to me with that term?!

Sigh.

Well…

I looked up, observing the white walls decorated with various marine animals. One side of the room had a net hung up with shark stuffed toys and starfish, beside it were three jellyfish lamps. Another wall had blue fairy lights with the shapes of various whale species and some stingrays. My desk meanwhile had various little clay jellyfish and whale sharks and a decorative mini blue whale wood carvings. My shelves contained various marine biology books and some law books too.

Okay, I get it. This room is for a baby. But at least my room is well decorated compared to my brother's bland room!

I kept grumbling about incoherent things as I took a shower and wore my uniform. I kept muttering until I went downstairs to where my mother and brother were waiting.

"Kiwoo" My mother greets me with her pretty smile, washing away the tantrum I was throwing because of Suho. "Goodmorning, dear. Come sit down, mom made sure your pancakes are extra fluffy."

"Thanks mommy" I smiled warmly at her then sat down at the table next to my brother. "Is dad out early for today?"

"He's investigating a major case" She replies as she gives me my warm cup of milk along with my plate, making me feel excited at the sight of it. "So he had to leave early, he did tell me to remind you both to be good in school."

"Yes, yes" I said half-heartedly as I started nibbling my food and drinking milk. "Ah… So yummy."

"...You know you're too old for milk and pancakes." Suho playfully nudges me and I shoved a fork-ful of pancake into his mouth.

"Shut up, man" I laughed at him. "Milk is good for a growing boy."

"Baby," He said it like he was correcting me.

"I hope you stub your toe today" I retorted.

"I hope it's you instead," Suho smirked.

"Knock it off boys" Our mother chuckles and pinches our cheeks to make us behave. "You're supposed to watch over each other."

"But he keeps calling me a baby!" I expected her to scold Suho, but instead she snorted and looked away. "Mom!"

"Well, you technically are the baby of the family" She grins prettily again, making me feel more mocked.

"I won" Suho snickers with a smile.

"..."

After a while of playful bickering, we finished up our meal and bid our farewells to our mom. I gave her a kiss on the cheek before following Suho outside the door.

We were a pair of odd brothers really. Rather than discussing school and games— We were instead informing each other about our hyperfixations. While my brother talked about bugs, I rambled endlessly about jellyfish and cetaceans.

It went on like that until we arrived at school.

We were both deathly bored with everything, we didn’t need to talk to each other to know that we were both very sleepy and tired. Suho glanced at me from the corner of his eye by the time the lunch bell rang. So with a sigh, I begrudgingly followed him towards the hall and out into the school.

“Hyung, you better get me a can of juice” I grumbled as I followed him to the back of the school where we could hear the smacking sounds of someone getting hit.

“Yeah, yeah” Suho rolled his eyes as we turned the corner and found Jo Sung-ho getting beat up pretty badly.

“Make it quick” I yawned lazily and leaned on the wall as my brother said some stuff I didn’t bother to understand.

I watched his swift and precise movements that resembled our father but not really. We were both trained by him, and of course the both of us would imitate his fighting style. We’re not quite there yet though, especially me. Although me and my brother are twins coming from the same parents, Suho was far more clever and sharper. I was different, I was slower and took more time in trying to understand things. I’m even stupid enough to the point that my brother needs to explain some jokes to me, if not, it would normally take me an hour or the next day to finally understand jokes.

I was shameful as a child from the Sung family.

Rather than feel proud, I felt so bad for my family who had a kid who had trouble understanding social cues.

Suho finished up the mess and helped Sung-ho up to his feet and told him some stuff before going back to me and slinging his arm over my shoulder.

“Did I make you wait, baby brother?” Suho grins widely as we started walking to where the vending machines were. “Hm, you’re a little down huh? What’s up? You’ve been awfully quiet and you haven't even balled your fists and shook them.

“...Please don’t talk about my stimming like it's a cute thing” I looked at him in a bit of a disapproving way, feeling embarrassed that he is mentioning my habits.

“But it is?” He muses while ruffling my hair. “Don’t be so down now, hyung will get you bunggeoppang after school.”

I nonchalantly nodded my head at his suggestion.

Was today interesting? No. Not one bit. It was a burden even, every teacher already gave the outline of lessons that will be covered for the semester. Normally, students would ignore this and just go on with their day, probably go to the internet cafe or party with friends somewhere. But I had to study them in advance because I’m stupid, I suck at studying. I am bad at understanding things, that’s why I have to do advanced reading back home as soon as I can.

But it seems… That my brother has fallen asleep. He’s in front of me, completely knocked out cold and gone to the world. He looked silly sleeping like this with a drool slightly coming out of his mouth, so I gently wiped it off.

Looking at him from this angle, he really is the spitting image of our father. From the shape of his nose, the thinness of his lips, the way his hair behaves; he really looks like dad, except he had our mother’s eyes. I admired Suho alot, after all, he has an innate talent for martial arts and he inherited dad’s cunning personality and many other aspects from him.

And for that, I am jealous of him.

Do I hate my brother? No, no. Damned will I be if I ever did. I love Suho, so much so that I am willing to bloody my hands for the safety of my older brother.

“Woonie?” Suho sat up, his messy black locks falling over his gray eyes. “Ack… I think I played too many games.”

“Yeah?” I cocked up an eyebrow at him. “Did you have a weird dream?”

“Yes… Dad was in it” Suho rubs his eyes. “I was just so… Bizarre.”

“I see” I stood up and held my hand out to him. “Wanna head home early for today?”

“Y-yeah–” His words were cut off when a girl opened the door and glanced at us.

“Why are you two still here? I’m locking up” She said in a confused tone as she glanced at us. “I’m bout to lock up the rooms”

“Can we join you?” Suho asked.

“Suit yourself”

We then grabbed our bags and proceeded to follow her out of the classroom and helped her lock up the other rooms. I kept glancing at Suho who looked baffled and in a daze.

Just how bad was his dream? Normally it would be me who has a ton of weird dreams and terrifying nightmares. Surely my bad luck with that stuff didn’t pass to him, right?

Even after Suho and her little game of rock-paper-scissors, he would suddenly glance up at the sky as if he felt something. Well I would be lying if I didn’t feel something odd too.

I would have asked, but I also felt a slight shift. There was an unfamiliar scent that lingered. Something in the air suddenly changed, like a small burst of air suddenly washed over the air. There was a tinge of an unpleasant scent.

But we both just ignored it and proceeded to make our way back home. Though I insisted that my brother just forget about his promise, he stubbornly brought me a box of sweets. I couldn’t deny him anymore, so I just sighed and accepted my faith and carried the box back home.

Suho was just so out of it, he was in a complete daze during dinnertime and seemed to be contemplating whatever the hell happened earlier afterclass. I didn’t want to press him any further about what happened, so we just went into our separate rooms.

As always, I sat down immediately on my desk after a quick shower. I started with the hardest subject, which was of course, Calculus. I focused on the subject for five minutes until I felt a strong gust of wind beside me.

There was a huge, blue wall in the shape of an oval, it produced a foul stench. It whirled, humming as it slowly sucked the air around it.

Part of me wanted to run, wanted to scream for my brother.

But most of me,... Wanted to go in.

Somehow, someway, that ‘thing’ feels familiar. Like an old friend from a distant part of my buried memories.

It felt like it was calling me to go back home.

I stood up, walking towards the thing and running my hand along it, watching that limb of mine get sucked in. Before I knew it, I was inside.

The walls were damp and heavy, everywhere was dark. Only the light of the blue torches illuminated the path. It appeared like a tunnel of some sort. It was creepy, but I didn’t feel scared– No, not one bit of me was frightened.

“What would dad do?” I mumbled as I took a torch from the wall and walked around.

I kept a steady pace until eventually I came across a section of the tunnel with weapons hanging around. I placed the torch down and ran my hand around the various weapons.

For some reason, they had weird status windows hovering in front of them.

“A game?” I tilted my head, “How neat.”

There were a number of different weapons to choose from. Greatswords, axes, claymores, shields, bows, lances... And my most favorite weapon of all, daggers. My brother sees these weapons as cowardly. But I always found these things fascinating, I always had a weird magnetic pull towards them. The daggers are just so pretty, fine hilts and black blades with crimson red edges– So I picked those two up.

Light, just as I want my weapons to be.

**Whoosh**

I tilted my head to the side instinctively, the wall in front of me having an arrow. In a split second, I immediately started bouncing back.

Large and imposing figures at least 8 feet tall, bodies made of metal– Knights. 20? No. At Least 50 now that I took a proper look at the back.

Just what the hell are these damn knights doing here?!

“Not playing nice, are we?” I flicked the daggers in my hands for a proper grip. “I’ll bury your damn heads 6 feet under”

So I pushed on my heel, charging head first towards the giant things with the intent to murder.

They didn’t smell like humans, for some reason I could tell.

I stabbed my dagger under their chins, with others, I crushed them by giving them consistent and brutal blows.

Level Up!

“???” I panted, looking at the status window in front of me which had some numbers.

Name: Sung Kiwoo

Level: 5

Fatigue: 15

Job: NONE

Title: NONE

Mp:15

Strength: 15

Agility: 15

Sense: 15

Vitality:15

Intelligence:15

Remaining points: 8

“So it really is like a game…” I said as I rolled my shoulders and cracked my knuckles. “I need to be extremely careful, I don’t know what will happen if I die here.”

As fun as this thing was, I was worried what would happen. This is an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar sceneries. Everything was eerie and dark, whatever these knight things were– They are after me and they want my blood.

And for that, I need to be out for their blood too.

I’m just trying to survive after all.

I still have a family waiting for me to come home.

Bloodying my hands is just a necessary thing to do for the sake of my survival. I’ll do what I need to do.

I pressed on, leveling up everytime I took down more knights. I stripped off my dress shirt, leaving only my tank top after the wave of hollow knights stopped.

“That’s one big door.” I mutter as I glance up at a giant door.

It looked old, with the cracks and the cut off patterns all around it. I traced my fingers around it, feeling the embedded patterns.

Something is in there.

And that something was strong, I could tell with just the way my heart was thumping and the feeling of my blood pumping uncontrollably.

I took a deep sigh, opening my eyes before ultimately pushing it open.

The room was dark, almost pitch black if it weren't for the blue torches lighting up the area weakly. But that wasn’ what I was worried about– No, no. Not that.

At the far end of the corner stood a throne, and upon that throne sat a figure with a body of black flames so to speak. It looked like a knight, with how casual and lazy it looks, I felt like it was taunting me with its stance. The knight then stood up and took a hold of it’s claymore standing by the side.

I prepared my stance– ????????

“Huh? Huh????” I sat up exasperated, looking around in a panicked manner before feeling my chest up. “What?”

‘Did that knight just murder me?!’ I thought, scratching my nape before getting up and looking around.

“Isn’t this where I started?” I looked around me, seeing the familiar patterns “Ngh… Not again, I don’t wanna deal with those bloody knights.”

….

I woke up again, still in the same spot.

“Oh, come on!” I groaned, laying down on the floor again and kicked my feet up in frustration “That damn thing is so powerful, what the hell am I supposed to do?!”

That knight is way too fast, it’s godforsaken claymore puts me at a huge disadvantage with my short-ranged weapon. As much as I love daggers, it’s not cutting it out for me. Of course, it could be a skill issue but if that’s the case then I’ll be getting nowhere! I need to do something, I want a weapon that is both short ranged and long-ranged.

A sword would be good, but I don’t like the stats of the swords I saw.

A lance is passable, but I don’t want it.

I pondered for a while before approaching the weapon hallway again and picked out a pair of daggers, with the intention of trying out something

“Where are you, where are you?” I murmured as I looked around before ultimately yanking something off of the wall. “Bingo.”

I then sat down on the floor, holding the long and cold chains. I honestly don’t know why there are plain chains amidst the line of great and giant weapons. But maybe because it has quite good stats? Either way I’m glad it's here.

I made small holes at the edge of the hilts before inserting the ends of the chains I had opened before forcibly closing it. I stood up again, wrapping the chains around my arms.

“Oh? Their stats had mixed with just tinkering them like this?” I hummed, before shaking my head and then looking up at the horde of knights marching towards me. “Good,”

I pressed on my heel, launching myself towards the creatures with outrageous speed.

“You bastards are gonna help me test out my new toys.”

Level Up!

I don’t know how many levels I climbed with how much I lost myself in battle. I panted, standing atop of a pile of corpses from the hollow knights I slayed. I had some cuts here and there. My fatigue was up to 80, but why is it that I don’t feel that tired? The more I breathed, the more I felt alive and hyperaware.

“Now, it’s your turn” I looked up at the tall and condescending door.

Now that I think about it, it seemed to glare at me. As if these doors had a pair of eyes judging every fiber of my being. Was I afraid? No. Why should I?

Those eyes should be fearing me instead with how I’m gonna lay that thing behind those doors to rest.

I opened the door, and of course that knight was waiting for me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” I pressed on my heel again and charged forward. “I wanted to make sure I’ll beat you this time”

The knight seemed a bit flustered at my sudden advances as it jumped back the moment I striked towards it’s stomach. I threw my dagger towards it, the blade circling arm– I flicked the chains, causing a reaction that hurled the knight onto the ceiling.

But I knew that it wasn’t enough to beat that thing.

And surely enough, it started hurling towards me again.

We shared intense blows, sparks and flames sizzled out with each impact shared along with static bursts of electricity.

That knight is still way stronger than me, of course it is. Compared to that thing—I know I'm at least a hundred years way younger to actually expect I would win against it easily.

But I guess that is what made it more exciting. The fact that I am facing something ancient and unknown. It's making my heart race uncontrollably and I feel more excited to beat it. The adrenaline is pumping, I feel alive. My fatigue is at 90 but why the hell does it feel so good right now?

I don't know how I did it, but I managed to swiftly dodge the knight's sword blast thing before closing in on the opening and stabbing my dagger up its chin.

Of course, it dispersed in an instant like a bubble bursting into nothingness.

"I WON!" I yelled out, jumping on my feet excitedly while swinging my arms happily. "Holy crap I actually did it!"

Level Up!

"Uwaahaaa!!!" I kept jumping as more dings ran into my ears. "Come to me you sweet little thing!"

I celebrated widely.

But for a brief moment, I recalled that knight's dying face. It looked at me… So tenderly? It felt like it was a father looking at its child at some point. Maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. Either way, I jumped around in pure bliss until another oval white and blue thing appeared.

“Is it over or am I going home?” I tilted my head curiously. “I wanna go home and eat cake…”

I take another heavy sigh before entering the thing again.

What greeted me was the intense blaze of the buildings, the sight was like I’m inside the hottest place of hell. It was rather amusing to see really, the ruins were all quite pretty to look at. My attention then goes towards a three headed cerberus, a cute creature to be honest. When I had my mythology phase, it was one of my most favorite creatures aside from Jörmungandr.

But why did it’s face pale when it took a good look at me? As if its three souls got knocked out of it.

“Bye?” I said to the Cerberus, which caused it to flinch and whimper while scurrying away.

I rolled my shoulder again, before continuing forward.

As I pushed through the hot blazing flames and took down monsters back-to-back, I remembered what my father had told me: “Don’t expect too much, Kiwoo. The reason why you’re always so disappointed is because you set the bars at an unnecessarily high standard.”

I should have listened to my father.

Because damn it am I so pissed right now because of how boring and bland monsters thrown at me were. I had expected more monsters to be like that knight I defeated. It’s so infuriating that it’s suddenly so easy to beat everything.

But I know better than to lower my guard, the moment I slip up cause me my doom. If this was an ordinary game– Well, it still is a game, but the point is, if I die right now, I might be a real goner. So I still need to stay vigilant no matter how easy things are right now. This might just be a rest period for me to relax to prepare for the next stage which would undoubtedly be a far more intense one than that knight.

It’s still frustrating me though, I’m leveling up slower than usual and it pisses me off.

I eventually climbed all 100 floors until the final oval thing.

The moment I went in, my chains shot out and wrapped around the demon in front of me. I hurled the creature towards me.

I raised my dagger, about to plunge it down the demon until it shrieked.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She(?) shrieked and I immediately stopped.

"????"

“Hahaha… You truly are of monarch bloodline, you didn’t even struggle as much even though you don’t have any shadow soldiers.” The demon girl speaks with a nervous smile as I uncoil her from my chains. “You two really are alike, managing to make it this far with just a few attempts at tremendous speed. Time truly passes by so fast”

‘Monarch? Shadow Soldiers? You two?”

“Excuse me?...” I cocked my head to the side.

“Nothing, nothing ” She shook her head. “I am Esil, daughter to the demon clan.”

“Kiwoo.”

“Such a pretty name” Esil says, her eyes having this glimmer in them that I found quite unusual since she is a demon. “Ah, right, we also have a banquet–”

“Sorry, I can’t go” I shook my head, trying to be as polite as I could with the demon girl. “I’m too young to drink and I don’t like the smell of alcohol along with being in a crowd.”

“Ah…” She frowns, but smiles right after. “Of course”

“I’ll try to come next time, if I ever come back. I can’t promise you though”

“What a shame…”

“Before I go,” I then point out at the portal thing “Can you tell me what those things are?”

She nodded eagerly.

I listened to what she has told me, to what the monsters are and the purpose of these gates. It was really like a game just as I had suspected, it was quite surreal. Well, everything that happened up to now is like a dream. Skill, stats, all that stuff– It felt like maybe I’m having a psychotic episode and that this is all just in my head. I wanted it to be that way on a surface level.

“I’m heading off” I say, politely walking past her. “I’ll see you later, auntie Esil”

Auntie?

The words had slipped out of my mouth and I couldn’t control it, it was as if it were a habit to call her that even though I don’t exactly know who she is. But regardless, that slip up I made seemed to have pleased her, since her features softened and looked more human.

I gave her one last smile, before entering the gate.

As soon as I entered the thing, swarms of ants would lunge themselves towards my direction. I knew better than to be distracted while in the middle of a fight, but truly, I cannot help but wonder what my brother would feel if he saw these massive creatures. He always had a fascination for bugs after all.

“I’m starting to miss my hyung” I mutter to myself as I open the tall doors in front of me. “I wonder if he is sleeping well right now”

**Sniff** **Sniff** **Kieekkk**

Right in front of me was a much larger and more humanoid looking ant with wings. I wanted to try and remember its specific species but… Why is it crying?

It pushed itself towards me, striking with such speed and precision I almost lost my footing. But my reaction was quite fast, so I managed to somehow keep up.

…. Why is it still crying?

Ahjussi, you’re really making me feel bad with those tears…

It’s like I’m watching someone have the worst case scenario of mental breakdown, I can’t tell if it’s happy tears or sad tears. Has my brother ever mentioned anything about ants crying? No, I’m sure he never did. Can bugs even cry? Maybe I should ask him.

“Kieeekk… I lost again” It says before pathetically plomping down on the floor like a pancake.

“H-hey” I tried calling out but it’s body disintegrated into the shadows beneath it’s mentally-broken mind and body. The dings of my level going up in large numbers rang on and on for a bit as a new gate whirred.

“I hope you feel better” I really felt bad, I really did, so I patted the floor where the ant disappeared to somehow make it feel at ease.

Was it a stupid move? Of course.

Will I do it again? You bet.

And so I head to my next destination, growing tired because of the continuous adrenaline rush.

I thought I would really be resting now, but now I’m in front of titans standing tall like skyscrapers. Giant orcs and dragons. DRAGONS.

Oh how I wanted to leap up in the air and celebrate like a madman right there and then but I wasn’t even given a headstart as the beasts jumped at me all at once!

What the hell is with this realm anyway? Why is everyone jumping at me left and right? Have I wronged anyone here in some way shape or form? I mean yeah, I’m basically an alien here but god, can’t they at least have mercy and let me breathe even for just a while?!

God they just keep coming one after another, I swear the beasts all looked different but somehow everything is starting to look black and purple at the same time! Is my head going even madder when I’m already losing my mind this much?

“Huh, what was that?” I blurted out randomly as I sent a blackened soldier flying.

I wanted to take a breather, I really did, but suddenly there was an unexplainable pressure on my body. It hurt.

It hurts

IT HURTS

IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS!

I was on the floor, glued to the soil as gravity pulled me down further.

“You, it’s you isn’t it?” I looked at another creature that was wielding a staff flying in the air.

I need to beat that thing.

“Crap.”

The various mouths of dragons fling about opened their jaws, charging up incoming attacks that will surely end me if I do nothing

‘Hahh…. You really wont let me rest, huh?’

A burst of energy would come through, I broke free of the pressure somehow and lunged towards the dragons, effectively killing each one with relative speed. As their corpses fell one after another, I hanged onto a ledge, breathing heavily.

Then, that orc mage… Whatever it is– pointed it’s staff towards me and blasted a massive fireball. I dodged it narrowly, with a huge explosion coming behind me.

“!!!!!” If that thing had hit me I would have been an overcooked fried goldfish.

Why is everyone and everything around me trying to murder me?...

‘Focus,... Focus, Sung Kiwoo!’ My father's voice would boom inside my head.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, at ease, deep breaths.

“Huu….” I sighed for a moment

“Control, I need to control myself more, speed and strength aren’t enough” I gritted my teeth. “Focus, Kiwoo!”

Another burst of energy would come forth again and I charged towards him.

It was a blur, everything was too fast and I felt like I’m about to faint. But I knew it wasn’t over when I slashed that orc in half. Another presence would come forth, I felt light headed as the giant shadow started mumbling stuff. I couldn't even feel my legs when we fought.

And before I knew it, I said: “You, where’s the master?”

“...” The shadow looks at me, his sword stabbed on the floor as I pointed a dagger on his throat.

“Is your master a shadow too like you? Will it refer to me as little monarch too?” I asked, glancing up at the sky to find a dragon circling in the sky like a hawk. “There you are”

As magnificent and elegant that dragon made of mist was, I was glaring at the figure perched on its back. Sensing my acknowledgement, it leapt up in the air and aimed for me. I lifted the flat of my blade, blocking its foot.

The attack was heavy, causing my feet to sink and create a crater. It leapt up in the air again and landed gracefully in front.

“Wait, you’re a woman…” I muttered, looking at her figure donned with an outfit like she was a saintess.

Her face was hidden under the shadow of her hood, making her look more angelic and pretty. As if I was in front of a goddess.

“N-noona” I call out, stammering and causing her to flinch a bit. “Can you get me out of here? My parents and brother must be really worried about me now. As much as I like the thrill of fighting, I think my disappearance is causing them a lot of pain.”

She froze, I could tell with the way her pretty lips quivered and trembled. It felt like she was contemplating. She was hesitating. I didn’t say anything for a while and let her ponder before ultimately charging towards me.

I swallowed down, blocking her incoming attacks that were incredibly devastating

She was so fast and nimble, that raw strength she landed on me was so heavy I swear my bones must be shattering with every blow.

But… She was beautiful.

Every strike is calculated, she charges forward when I go on offense and redirects my attacks so that it would backfire on me. Her blade stings me but hell, I wanted more cuts. I wanted to learn more. Even though my body is already pushed to its limits and I feel like I’ll die any second now– I wanted to see her movements more, it was like she’s a flower dancing so gracefully amidst the hammering blizzard. It’s like I’m watching a ballet performance in a ruined theater.

I would bleed from every part of me, I was leaking a pool of blood, and at the end... I was on the floor, kneeling while the tip of her blade was pointed on my throat. Her robes fluttered so prettily that I could only stare at her.

“Noona, can I be like you?” I ask absentmindedly. “Can I be beautiful like you too?”

I felt the blade tremble on my neck and she dropped her blade before hugging me.

“You silly child, why are you still like this even though you’re such a big boy now?” Her voice was familiar.

“Mom?”

“Too early, you’re still too young, you need to remain oblivious and sweet.”

“H-hey wait, Mom–”

But either way, I was thrown into a gate from god knows where and I jolted awake in my bed sweating and hyperventilating.

“.....”

“I played too many games that my dreams are all messed up” I mutter, ruffling my hair in confusion.

That dream was too confusing that I immediately headed into Suho’s room without thinking. As expected, he immediately opened the door the moment I knocked.

“Kiwoo, it’s already midnight why–” I cut him off

“I’m not gonna sleep alone tonight, can I stay here?”

“Nightmare?”

“No?... It was just wild, I need some comfort”

“You too I guess”

No words were further exchanged as I crashed onto his bed and Suho followed by sitting at the edge. I thought for sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore because going through that hell is making me a bit anxious.

But in the end, I was dreaming again.

Once more, I’m drifting along the waters. It’s cold but comforting. The whales are singing for me again.

“My ocean is empty”

…

“I wonder if I grow a little more, will this abyss be full of life? Can I turn it into a lush coral reef? Will fish of various species swim around with apex predators around too? Will cetaceans appear here? Dolphins leaping up in the air and with more whales singing and clicking for me? I want to dance above the waters…”

“ I want the ocean to be my stage and the marine life as my audience,... I want to be beautiful.”

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #kiwoo sung #⋆˙⟡♡☁️— kyuu kyuu's ocs #a self indulgent fic

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sttoru · 6 months

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thinking of dating older bf!satoru. . .and i’m talking like you’re in your early 20’s and he’s in his early 30’s.

the way he texts at the start of your blooming relationship is super attractive somehow. like the most simplest of texts would get you weak in the knees. texts like ‘good morning, sweetheart.’ // ‘how’s my pretty girl doing?’ // ‘there’s my gorgeous girl.’ // ‘rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead.’ // ‘it’s okay, baby. i understand.’ // ‘you never fail to amaze me, huh.’

or when you’re being very risky via your messenger app, older bf!satoru is definitely the type to say ‘careful.’ // ‘you’re gonna get me in trouble.’ // ‘you’re being quite brave today, doll. // ‘aww, how adorable of you.’ // ‘mhm? that so?’

also . . . gives you money out of the blue. randomly. doesn’t question it at all. or sends expensive gifts your way too without you asking. older bf!satoru would text you stuff like; ‘here’s some money, gorgeous. want you to spoil yourself for me today, okay?’ // ‘just a little gift.’ // ‘you deserve a break, baby. here you go.’ // ‘got you something small.’

and then you check your bank account and it’s an easy $200 / $500 / $800 ++ added by him. or when he’s sending gifts to your apartment, it’s gonna be one of them reaaaaal expensive ones. probably ones you eyed before or had mention you liked very briefly, but didn’t get it because of the price.

definitely also the type to try and accommodate or match his texting style to yours as the months go by. kinda to match your energy. perhaps fails horribly at it, but it’s cute to see him try.

#sttoru chats.#just wrote my thoughts down rlly quick LOL #self indulgent af but if yall want any fics w older bf!satoru let me know in my inbox teeheee might even make a series of it #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #cw age gap #cw age difference

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syoddeye · 23 days

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john price x f!reader thing. unedited. ~600 words.

john price finds a dent in the driver’s door and a note tucked under a wiper.

sorry i can’t afford to pay, please forgive me x

and he’s angry, of course. who wouldn’t be? piece of shit. then he registers the looping handwriting and the little heart in the corner. interesting. he pulls the cctv. lo and behold, there she is. the culprit. some stumbling drunk buffoon.

you probably shouldn’t have nabbed an e-scooter when you were three sheets to the wind, but you did, and fuck, you’re paying for it. you genuinely feel bad about the dent you left in the parked car last night, but you think a broken wrist and three stitches in your lip is more than enough punishment, thanks. you groan, remembering how you tossed the scooter into a bush and hiked a few streets away before calling 999. having to clock in for an opening shift added insult to injury.

he imagines it’s rough going, working an espresso machine with a busted wrist. he supposes the manager didn’t want her as the cashier given the lip. pity, the swelling and stitches aside, she’s quite cute. but serves her right.

he wonders how she’ll react when he picks up his coffee and procures the printed still of her face, clear as day, fleeing from the scene of the crime.

he should feel bad, considering her injuries and what a barista job pays, but. it’s the principle of the thing.

“rough night?” he asks, hovering at the end of the bar.

“huh? oh, yeah. could say that,” she smiles tiredly. it’s a little strained, but still warm. “pity partied too hard.”

john’s smirk flattens. “pity party?”

“yeah,” she shrugs. “series of unfortunate events.”

like running into my car?

“what, bad date?” he jokes carefully, hiding behind a friendly grin.

“ha, guess so. it was supposed to be an anniversary dinner.” she explains dryly, looking all the more defeated as she tamps the grounds.

“supposed to be?”

she glances up, locking in the portafilter with a crank of her good arm. she finally looks a little suspicious of him. smart. “yeah.”

“i don’t mean to pry. you just seem like you could use a vent.” solid recovery.

it works. she considers a moment, shrugs again, and nods as she pulls the shot. “guess so,” she licks her lip and looks back, evidently deeming him harmless. not smart.

“found out he was cheating, called him on it, and he stormed out. after we ordered.”

that’s. that’s not what he expected. but it stirs something oddly protective. john’s a bit old-fashioned, he’s the first to admit it, so to hear about a man carrying himself so poorly? a man running around on a pretty thing like her?

it doesn’t sit well with him. car be damned.

“so how’d you…” he prompts, nodding at the cast.

“oh, yeah, we ordered some fancy wine. i drank most of the bottle alone, sobbing,” she cracks a self-deprecating smile and it dislodges something in his chest. “but the server didn’t charge me for dessert. i, uh, fell on my way home.”

crashed. you crashed into my car.

“sounds terrible.”

“it was. the whole night was. anyway.” she pauses to slide a pen from her apron to write on the cup. “americano to go?” she asks, pushing the drink over the counter, eyes floating to the next order.

john spots the same little heart, the looping letters. he looks back at her, plugging along despite the clear heartache and injuries. he sighs, crumpling the print out in his pocket.

“think i’ll have it to stay, actually,” he mumbles, knowing she doesn’t hear him as she makes the next drink.

he camps out at a table where he can watch her. there’s a dent in his car, but he’s decided there’s a barista-sized hole in his life.

#john price #price is right #price x f!reader #price x female reader #no I don’t know what this is either #self-indulgent tbh #why can’t I have met john price when I was a drunk barista #we love readers taking Ls around here #also I bet cctv footage is ass but in fic land it’s not pls forgive me

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

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thinking about riding steve 'big dick' harrington until you're crying )):

warnings: piv sex, praise kink, big dicks, filth.

he's got you naked and writhing on top of him as he works his cock into you, inch after inch sliding into the tight heat of your velvety walls, puffy red lips wrapped around your nipple — kissing, licking, biting. soothing you as you're practically impaled on his length.

your ankles almost meet around the base of his back, digging into the dip of his spine when you finally sit fully — he's so big. you don't think you'll ever get used to it, and this position was making every little bit of his cock known.

"god," you gasp — a small, choked off cry. you're flush, chest to chest, your arms flung around his shoulders loosely as you silently beg your body to relax. and he's everywhere, from his shaggy hair tickling your face to his big thighs plastered to your own with sweat.

“i know baby, i know,” steve’s breathy whispers sooth you as he grasps at your hip, rocking you back and forth on his cock until you’re whining, kiss swollen lips parting as you shake.

“you— you’re so deep,” you whimper, clawing at the nape of steve’s neck and pulling on the baby hairs until he’s grunting and fucking up into you from below, making the sheer stretch even more pronounced.

this position was intense. intimate. had him as deep as he could go and then some. you’re sure if you pressed down on your belly hard enough you’d feel the bulbous head poking out through your skin.

“think you can get those hips to work for me?” steve coos, trailing his nose up your chest until he's mouthing at your damp neck, kissing and nibbling the salty skin, savouring the taste of you on his tongue, “you feel like heaven, baby.”

the praise has you keening, rocking down onto him. the sound that breaks from deep in steve’s chest causes goosebumps to break out all over your flushed body — you swear you’d never heard anything like it.

you try, you really do. a gradual bounce at a slow, steady pace. you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he prods deep, deep, deep. it teeters on the edge of too much, the constant press on your front wall, enough to bring tears to your eyes but not enough to get you to stop.

“oh fuck,” you can hardly focus, steve is everywhere on you. his hands roam every bare inch of your skin, his lips latch to your throat, the swell of your tits — dragging wet and hot until the tears finally spill from your eyes from the stimulation.

he looks up at you with those stupid hazel speckled irises, all gooey and full of soft love behind the lust that hardens the edges, “you need some help? those poor legs can’t cope, huh?”

your cunt flutters at his words and he chokes on a groan, snaking a toned, tan arm around your back — it somehow drags you even closer to him as he slides you back onto his cock properly, snug once more against your frontal wall.

"you look so good like this," steve grins, rocking up into you and using the arm snaked around you as leverage to lift you along with it, "all fucked out and wrecked on my cock."

"you —i—" you can't form sentences anymore, clinging onto steve for dear life as he drives up into you, bouncing you up and down on his length, ragdolling you in the process. the sickening clap of your sweaty skin mixes with the squelch of your pussy sucking him in, almost drowning out your cries.

"want you like this all the time, fuck," steve's babbling in between grunts, kissing up along the side of your neck, bringing his lips back to your ear, suckling on your lobe until he's choking a soft moan from you, "fuuuck, you're gripping me so good."

you know you are. you can feel it too, the way your cunt reacts to every touch, every sound, every push and shove. his other hand grips onto your hip so tight it's going to bruise, using it to help guide your hips back and forth in tandem with his pistoning hips.

the blooming in your belly rolls in like tidal waves, your tear streaked eyes clenching shut as you allow the feeling to wash over you. the friction of your clit on steve's thatch of pubic hair and the way your pebbled nipples rub against his broad chest helping you get there.

"i— i'm going to—" you're trying so hard, but god it's just so fucking good. it's always been good, but never have you felt pleasure quite like this, and steve knows it too. he knows what he's doing with every thrust.

“s’okay honey, i’m right there with you,” steve pants, grappling at your sweat slick waist and burying his face into your neck, mouthing at your ear “c’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

you cry out, gasping and digging your nails tightly into his broad shoulders, lightheaded and dizzy with it as he whispers encouragements into your ear — you hurtle towards the edge fast, the deep heat in your lower belly bursting into flames as you release with a sharp scream.

"that's it — oh fuck, you're so tight, mmph," steve grips onto your hip for dear life, shoving you down deep and burying his face tightly into your neck to muffle his cries. you feel every hot spurt of cum paint your insides, every pulse of his cock. it feels like it goes on forever.

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #my fanfic #mine #x reader #this is self indulgent FILTH

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hothammies · 2 months

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two guys arguing at the aquarium? must be lovers (fic)

#posting something more self indulgent for my birthday #my favorite tragic ship oooooh #yet again based on another fic that i absolutely fucking love but also you can see it as the canon date they have on 7/29 #fic is called marigolds go read it NOW arguably one of the best fics ever made.#persona 5 #shuake #goro akechi #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #sammi's art

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shrimperini · 5 months

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everyone at aperture always treats wheatley pretty badly, he’s used to being called a moron and other belittling names due to his general incompetence. of course he would grow attached to the one person who is willing to spend time with him and actually treat him decently lol

chell is very much a lone wolf. she is introverted and avoids most people in the facility, and at first she would ignore wheatley’s ramblings and maybe even think he’s slightly annoying. but overtime they became eachother’s friendly face in a place full of unpleasant coworkers. they also see eachother quite often because he helps oversee test subjects like her. and eventually she truly warms up to him, despite still maintaining her usual stoic demeanor, she starts smiling at him more often.

anyway he develops the fattest crush on her. who wouldn’t. WHO WOULDN’T

#my art #portal 2 #human wheatley #chelley #portal chell #chell x wheatley #wheatley #chell #if i were a writer id cook the most self indulgent 700k words slow burn hurt/comfort chelley fic #but alas silly little comics like these is what im able to do atm #portal human au

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abbyshands · 1 month

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♡ warnings; use of a strap-on (r!receiving), strap-on is referred to as cock by abby and in general, abby calls reader “baby” and “mama,” praise

PALESTINE LINKS | before engaging !!! | click before you fic ♡ | | join my tag list!

♡ imagine dom!abby, x softball!reader. you’d played a game earlier on, having just gotten back from it an hour or so beforehand. you are your team had won, barely, winning by a close score of 8-6. abby had come to it, the first game she had ever come to, as you’d always been too scared to allow her to come watch. however, no matter how nervous you’d been, abby had seen you play an excellent game at your infield spot, and seen how good of a player you really were, wondering why the hell you had been holding out on her before. it didn’t really matter: all that did, was you were now getting rewarded for it. “that’s it, baby. pretty cunt’s so tight around me, hm? yeah? you like my cock, huh?” abby coos as she moves into your pussy at a slow pace, easing her way into it. you’re sore from your game and borderline exhausted, so all that slips past your lips is a rushed, little “yes.” abby smiles down at you from where she is above you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “aw, is my good girl all fucked out for me already? s’okay, mama. i’ll do all the work for my pretty girl, mhm,” abby says, and, fuck, do you like it. abby’s easy on you as she pushes her cock deeper, gradually moving her hips faster with each second that passes by. naturally, your hands find abby’s back, digging marks into it as she begins to pound into you. “my baby played so good for me, didn’t she?” abby asks you. you nod as pleasure washes over you, your eyes shutting closed. “mmm, yeah, i did, abby. i did,” you whine in response. abby’s smile widens, almost cockily so, as she pulls her cock almost fully out of you, before slamming back inside as if she never left. “yeah, you did, mama. such a good, fuck, good fucking girl. and i’m gonna reward this pretty pussy for it.”

divider creds !

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. tags: @sugarevans @spacewlf @hangeishere @elsdoll @flowersforvi @yondaimekazzy @carolb111 @marsworlddd @amourrs @smvtreader124 @viisgrave @elliesbff

#so sorry i’m giving y’all crumbs M SORRY #this is completely self indulgent btw #just so y’all know #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby tlou #the last of us smut #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #tlou2 smut

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catcze · 7 months

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Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

"What flowers do you like?"

Wriothesley asks one day, trying to seem nonchalant. Trying to make it look not as obvious that he's already mentally running through a list of Fontanian florists.

But you hm to yourself, frowning. "I... don't know. I've never really received flowers before," you say with a shrug, acting like it's no big deal. Wriothesley, though, has to catch himself before he drops the pen in his hand.

"Never?" He asks with wide eyes, head snapping in your direction, jaw dropping the slightest bit. "None of your past relationships ever got you flowers?"

You shake your head, not really bothered by the fact, and although you're nonchalant about it, Wriothesley immediately feels the gears in his head turn. That mental list of florists runs through his mind at double the speed. His finger absently taps on the wood of his desk, mind racing as he does some rough estimations. Unaware and unsuspecting, you merely go back to perusing the books in his office, running your hands over their worn spines, oblivious to the clench in Wriothesley's jaw and the determined glint in his eye.

A week later, and Wriothesley returns from the surface with a bouquet in his hands. It's nothing too big or ostentatious— that's not really his style. Instead, it's simple in its beauty and easy on the eyes. All sorts of flowers have been included, even ones not native to Fontaine. Cecilias from Mondstadt, Glaze Lillies and Qingxin from Liyue, Padisarahs from Sumeru, and even Fluorescent Flowers from Inazuma's Chinju forest, among others. All arranged by hands more skilled and talent more honed than he could ever hope to achieve.

Wriothesley knocks on your door, heart stuck in his throat, and can't help but laugh a little at how cliche it all looks. Him, standing in front of your door with a bunch of flowers in hand, desperately trying to fight down his blush when he hears a 'coming!' faintly behind your door.

When you swing it open, your greeting is caught in your throat, eyes wide as they behold the blue and white blossoms Wriothesley brought for you.

"What... what's this? What's the occasion?"

But he shakes his head, and at his behest you take the bouquet into your arms, holding it carefully. When you bury your nose among the petals, they smell sweet but not saccharinely overpowering. It's enough to make you want to cry.

"No occasion," Wriothesley says, one hand going to scratch at the back of his neck, his smile shy and bashful. "I just wanted to get them for you. Wanted to be the first person to ever get you a bouquet of flowers, you know? But importing them took longer than i expected and, well, I told the florist that I was giving it to someone very special so they spent some extra time on the arrangement..." He trails off, clearing his throat nervously. "...Do you like it?"

And that sets loose the tears behind your eyes.

Wriothesley panics a little when he sees how you blubber, sobs making your shoulders shake as you hide your face in the flowers. His eyes widen, a frantic apology on the tip of his tongue while he fears that he messed up somehow. But then you tackle him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close until you can bury your head in his chest and cry. His arms wrap around you almost hesitantly, but when you nuzzle closer into his embrace and they tighten around you.

You're barely able to speak through your tears, words muffled around his undoubtedly ruined shirt.

"I love it." I love you, you really mean.

And how can you not? This sweetheart of a man bought you flowers just because he wanted to. Because no one else had before, and he wanted to be the first person to do so. All his sporadic trips to the surface for the past week make sense— you doubt procuring so many imported flowers so quickly was an easy task on top of troubleshooting the various hiccups of the fortress and sorting through some documents that found themselves on his desk. But he did it anyway, just because he thought it'd make you happy.

"I'm glad," Wriothesley murmurs. He rocks you back and forth in his embrace until your happy tears begin to subside. Then he clears his throat. "So, can I buy you another one next week, too?"

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #I saw a reel on instagram and ran to my laptop #im ngl i contemplated Wrio putting a ring in the bouquet and proposing to you at the end but idk it felt too out of the blue HAHAHA #another fic maybe 👀👀#reader cries because i cry at the slightest gesture of love and kindness haksjdn hashtag self indulgent LMAOOO

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cupcakeinat0r · 1 month

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Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 6

The semester is almost over, and finals are just around the corner. Miguel and you had been tutoring students for test prep. Your help was greatly appreciated by Miguel, cutting his work basically in half, and he sees that you were good at it, too. It seems that paying attention in his class the whole year paid off. Granted, Miguel was fine as hell, so you never wanted to miss class.

You had to be honest, though, when you volunteered yourself to be Miguel’s little TA, you didn’t think it’d be this difficult. Is this what Miguel went through? For five years? Damn. Poor baby probably hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he started this job. You didn’t know how he did it, and it’s only been your third day of tutoring.

Not to mention that some students were, and you hate to admit it… incompetent. There were moments where you had to refrain from making certain faces toward students who acted like they hadn’t been to a single class of Miguel’s. But because you were so kind and patient, you sat with those few and made sure they left that hour feeling prepared for their final. Now you understood why Miguel’s temper was a bit short. Yours would be too if you had to deal with students who never put in any effort. Of course, some classmates also knew as much as you did, only needing the sessions for review.

Aside from tutoring, you and Miguel’s relationship was evolving. Your heated kiss in the lecture hall has been on Miguel’s mind non-stop, replaying the scene over and over again as a bedtime story for the past week. He couldn’t believe that his dreams were coming true. You had him whipped. That one kiss was what broke the dam, and now, Miguel was unleashing kisses on you. He’d sneak one in at every opportunity he had. Every little interaction would go something like this:

Say you were on your way to a session with a classmate, it’s early in the morning, the hall is empty, and no one is around other than Miguel who you consequently pass by as he leaves his private office. The scowl on his face immediately softens when he sees you, all done up pretty like always.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He still sounds as if he’s just woken up, his velvety timbre filling the quiet hall. It felt like you were Juliet and he was Romeo, forbidden lovers meeting in secret.

“Oh! Professor O’Hara-“A small squeal leaves your lips when he pulls you into his embrace, his brawny arms enveloping you completely. You giggle into his chest, your hands snaking up his soft belly and around toward his back, where they almost touch. “Calmate, mama, no one’s around,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a sweet kiss there. You breathe in and smell a manly musk from the fabric of his turtleneck. You had to lift your head from his chest or else Miguel would not stop kissing you all over. It was like there was no ‘off’ button, there was only ‘on’ when it came to you,

“Miguel, I’m already running late, they’re waiting for me!” You loudly whisper, only half-trying to push him away since he felt so warm and soft, but you really did need to go.

“Lo siento, mamita, but how can I resist when you look like this? Can you blame a guy?” He steps back and raises your hand to twirl you like a princess. You smiled bashfully, your cheeks going red. He was so corny and he knew it, slightly cringing at his own effort to be “cool”. It made you laugh because he would NEVER act this way in front of anyone. Anyone except you. He smiled, laughed, and made cheesy remarks only for you. God, you needed this grumpy dork.

“Migggg, stop it, I really need to go!” You softly laugh, covering your cheesy smile.

“Nunca, preciosa,” His voice is low when he pulls you back in, “But alright… how ‘bout a kiss before you go?” and with a smile, you get on your tip toes, and Miguel lifts you into a tender kiss, and when he kisses you, he breathes you in. It’s like you’re his life supply when he kisses you.

Just when you thought the kiss was over and you were about to be on your way, he didn’t let go of your hand. You look back, and you’re met with those damned puppy dog eyes, “Wait, one more? Please?” He was so pathetic, but how could you tell him no? Of course, you wouldn’t, so you come back and give him another deep kiss.

Once you two pull away, his forehead remains on yours and he whispers, “Otra mas? Porfa?” He coos. “I thought you said one more?” You teased his adorable pleading, but you took his chin with both hands and kissed him anyway.

Two more kisses turned to three, four, five, six… and Miguel wouldn’t stop; “One more?”, “Okay, now one more.”, “Another one.”, “Otro besito…”, “no, not yet, one more, one more”, “mkay, last one.”, “wait wait wait, one more…” and the two of you broke into soft laughs as he kept asking for more kisses, you slowly trying to pull away as you were passed late now. With each step back you took, Miguel would step closer, keeping your body against his with his bulky arms. The once silent hallway was now filled with quiet, giddy laughter as Miguel attacked you with pecks. There was something so innocent about it all, the harmony between your high-pitched giggles and his low chuckles, accompanied by the continuous smacking of his lips on yours in a peaceful, early morning within the high-ceiling school walls.

“Miguel O’Hara, please!” You snap at him, still in a whisper, but you both just laugh. “Okay, okay, fine,” he finally lets go of you, watching you leave with a content smile,” I’ll see you later? Don’t leave without passing by, please,” you smile back at the buff nerd and his concern for you. “I will! I promise!” You scurry down the hall to meet with the student who’s probably wondering where you’ve been. Miguel doesn’t step back into his office until you’re out of sight, his mind still a little foggy from the interaction.

If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that the grad student who always showed up in the cutest outfits, sat front row, and always gave him the prettiest, lip glossed smile would requite his feelings, he would laugh at their face (or simply just stare menacingly at them, more like). When he chose to settle down and take this job, he would’ve never thought he’d find you. You were that something he didn’t know he needed.

You might’ve bitten off more than you can chew. By fault of your sweet nature, you decided to take in a few extra students, which left you in the library hours later, your forehead on your forearm, a bit of drool pooling on the table, and snoring. Miguel had been doing some tutoring as well, though, he finished earlier than you and started doing some other collegiate duties. It was unknown to him that you did this, so he thought it was strange when you didn’t come by for that long. He knew you wouldn’t have left without saying anything, so he began to grow worried as hours went by. He made his way down to the lecture hall, but there was no sign of you there. He immediately started thinking the worst, a million different horrid explanations running through his mind as he picked up his pace through the hallway.

His heart eased when he saw your sleeping form in the library, the only light coming from the aged lamps on each of the tables, but the relief is short-lived once he realizes how long you’ve been working and how tired you must’ve been to fall asleep sitting like that. Making sure to be quiet as there were still two or three other students there, Miguel walked towards you, faintly smiling at your snoring.

“Mama… Mamita…” he whispers, nudging your back gently, waking you up. Your eyes, blinking continuously, adjust to the dim lighting of the library and you make out the large figure beside you. It’s your sweet, darling professor.

“Mph… huh?” you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a yawn, “Oh my God, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a tired chuckle, your eyes still adjusting.

“Mama, what are you apologizing for? Ugh, I should’ve come to check on you sooner.” He sat beside you, but then one of the students quickly hushed him, giving him a dirty look for interrupting their study sesh. He raised his hand mouthing ‘sorry’.

"Did you need something?" you softly asked him, not wanting to be hushed as well, and he just replied by intertwining his long, girthy fingers with yours under the table where no one could see. "Nothing, mamita, however, I need you to go home. You weren’t supposed to stay so late.” He tuts, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles like he always did. He already didn’t like that you were tutoring on top of your own schoolwork, the only reason why he let you help in the first place being that you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Oh, Miguel, always worrying about everyone but yourse-” You were cut off by another hush by the same irritated student. You both looked back at them, Miguel looking back with a scowl this time. He looked like he was about to say something, but you pulled away his attention with a sheepish smile, “Maybe we should go talk somewhere else.” You whisper. Taking your advice, he stood with you and followed you to a more private section of the library.

Settling in a small nook area where the two of you are surrounded by shelves of books, you sat on the floor, Miguel following shortly after. “So, care to explain why you’re still here?” He speaks while finding a comfortable position.

You both lay against the shelf, your head tilted upward as you respond, “I just figured I could help a couple more students, is all. I guess it was after I finished with the last student and started studying for my other classes was when I knocked out.” Miguel lifts his arm so that he can wrap it around you, offering a cushion between you and the hardwood of the shelves.

“Do you ever not study?” he raises a brow, but you’re quick to retaliate, “Do you ever not work?” You both chuckle. “Touché.”

“How do you do it?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” You lay your head on his shoulder. “You basically run this entire department on your own. All I’ve done was tutor for a couple of days and look where that got me.” Miguel chuckles at this. “I know sometimes it may not seem like it, but in all honesty, I love what I do, and you’ve gotta give yourself more credit than that, mama. You’ve truly been amazing, sweetheart. Always have been.”

“Well,” you snuggle into him a little more, relishing in his natural warmth that rivals the library’s cold air, “You helped.” Miguel returns the gesture by wrapping his arm tighter around you, sensing that you are becoming cold. “We helped each other, how ‘bout that.” you look up and smile at him, your cheek against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater (that fits juuust right on him).

“Speaking of which, what’s this class you’re studying for?” you sit up straight and let out a tired sigh. “It’s another lecture,” you grab a hefty textbook from your bag beside you, letting Miguel take a look at it, “On top of creating a thesis, I have to memorize all of this.” He looks through his glasses that are hanging low on his nose and skims over the material.

“How much of this have you memorized?” he still looks at the pages. “About half maybe.”

“Let’s fix that.” he sat up straight, positioning the book to where you can’t see its contents. “What’re you doing?” you’re suspicious of Miguel, knowing very well that he should be going home and not staying to help you study for a class that he didn’t even teach.

“I’m helping,” he clears his throat, “Which years did the ‘Modernist’ era in English literature begin and end? Please provide a short explanation of what catalyzed this period-” You ignore his question, attempting to take the book. “Miguel, you’ve done enough for today, you should be going home!” but he doesn’t let you have it.

“Mama, I just found you dead asleep while sitting up. You were gonna stay either way. I’d much rather be here so you don’t pass out again n’ make sure you get home safe. Please?”

He’s literally the most perfect man ever. The person currently sitting in front of you just left his office doing whatever important task he usually occupies himself with to check up on you and is willing to stay here until you feel ready for your final. You’re convinced he’d do anything for you, and you’re right in thinking so.

“Fine,” You’re beginning to realize how hard it actually is to say ‘no’ to Miguel, but you know Miguel was a bit of a pushover when it came to you as well, so you guess it’s alright, “But I feel like there should be some sort of incentive, though… some motivation.” you cheekily smile.

Miguel’s eyes shift above his lenses, intrigued by your proposition. “How ‘bout this. Every time I get something wrong… you get a kiss.” He chuckles. “Alright, and I’m guessing if you get it correct, then I should reward you with a kiss, right?” he says matter-of-factly, making you smile again. You were hoping he’d suggest something like this.

He’d ask a question, you’d answer, and depending on if you got it right, Miguel would give you a kiss, or if you got it wrong, you “had” to give him a kiss (not much of a punishment, to be frank). You didn’t even wait for him to finish asking you a test question at times, you would just give him a tender kiss on the cheek just because. Some kisses, though, Miguel would get distracted, taking it from an innocent peck to a heated, handsy kiss, and reluctantly, you’d get him back on the task at hand. It got to the point where you ended up seated between his legs, and you'd start getting all these answers correct, so Miguel would plant kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin there. They would surely leave hickeys for the next day, but you didn’t care.

With your back against his hard chest and tummy, it was very hard to not delve into both of your fantasies. It was when Miguel began faintly bucking his hips against yours, his hardness expanding as he got blinded by lust again. "Miguel! Not here!” you'd whisper, and Miguel would groan in defeat. Trust, if you two weren’t in public, you would’ve let him do anything and everything he was thinking about doing to you.

That, having to stay quiet, and making sure no one was coming, it all made it feel like you were both teenagers again who were out later than they should be, laughing and shushing each other.

The incentive being kisses actually worked in the sense that it kept you up, so not only was it an excuse to make out in the library, but it did technically help you memorize…

An hour or so passes by and you’ve gotten to the point where you know everything you need to for your final, but you didn’t want your time with Miguel to quite just end yet. You don’t know if it was the making out or what but you were suddenly wide awake now.

Miguel is about to test you on a topic one more time when he sees your eyes wandering the shelves, “You like to read, Mig? Just curious.” You look up at him. You were too tired to care whether or not you looked presentable enough for him, but he thought you looked absolutely adorable like this. Your hair lost its volume, your lip gloss was no longer shiny, and your mascara was a bit smudged from when you fell asleep earlier, but he found it so endearing. He wouldn’t have minded waking up to the sight every day for the rest of his life.

He closes the textbook, taking this as your way of ending the study session, “Yeah, I like it. I’ll read recreationally when I have the time.” He chuckled, looking at you like you were the only source of light on the planet. You shifted your head from where it rested against his arm and laid down on the floor, your head now resting against his soft stomach like a pillow. Your gaze focused on his hand that was now in yours. Your soft touch brushes against his more calloused, warm skin, playing with his fingers as you speak.

“What do you like to read? Fiction? Non-fiction? Give me details.” You continue to fiddle with his fingers.

He starts to play with your hair with his free hand, moving any on your face, “Hm… I tend to gravitate toward non-fiction. You?"

"Anything romantic for sure," it doesn't take you even a second to answer, "Ever since I was a little girl, I always envisioned myself in those fairytale stories. Princesses, royal balls, a prince charming..." your eyes glanced up at him when you mentioned princes, and his smile grew.

"Oh, yeah?" He smirked, his brow raised. "Mhm. I kinda feel like I’m in one right now, actually.” His cheeks darken at this, licking his lips as he looks away to hide them. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome your smile is?” You add on, making him melt furthermore. He honestly can’t believe you’re saying all this about him. Miguel was usually the man that always knew what to say, but romance? Not his field of expertise, and much less when it came to you.

“Not really, no. Don’t show it much these days.” He looks back down at you, completely smitten by the angel currently lying in his lap.

“Well you should do it more often, it looks nice on you.” You’re not sure what came over you. It was so easy to praise him and watch him become goo from your words and touch.

“Then maybe I should spend more time with you.” Now it was your turn to be bashful. “I make you smile, huh?”

“Quite frequently in fact. It’s ruining my reputation, makin’ me go soft.” You chuckle along with him. “Just face it, you’re my big, scary teddy bear.” Miguel’s heart skips when you say ‘my’. As much as his past self would’ve hated being called that, he loved the possessiveness in it. He was truly yours, since the beginning. “Only if you’ll be the princess I protect.” You smile like an idiot. You hated him (you wanted him so bad).

“This actually reminds me of a certain story...” He ponders on a specific story, one that brings old memories. A faint smile grows on his plush lips.

“Oh, yeah? Mystery, sci-fi, romance…?” you say romance with a badly executed French accent, making him chuckle, “Eh… maybe it’s a romance…” He says with a growing smile.

“Awe, I knew it, ya big softy. Which one?” You two began discussing your favorite romantic books. Turns out Miguel is a bit of a hopeless romantic himself, though, he’d never reveal that to anyone. You feel compelled to get up and search for your favorite book from the shelves surrounding you, which you both end up doing. Once you’ve found y’all’s respective books, you both return to the same position on the floor, but Miguel’s mood makes a shift. There’s a moment when Miguel’s spirit seems to die down, and you catch it. He looks down at the book with somber eyes. He flips through its pages, his brows furrowed and eyes narrow. “You alright, Miguel?”

Miguel clears his throat. “I’m fine. Um...” He thinks about what he’s about to say and whether he should even share it. There’s a beat between the two of you.

“What’re you thinking about?” You can see the gears in his head turn.

“Nada, mamita, I’m fine.” He lies. He looks at you with a weak smile, but his eyes say differently.

“Anything you have to say is important to me.” You give his hand a small squeeze. “Please?”

He squeezes back your hand and kisses your wrist. Miguel then worked up the courage to share something he hadn’t told anyone in what felt like years. Sure, his two closest coworkers knew about it, but that’s about it. Miguel didn’t have many, if at all, true friends outside of his work, but he felt you could be trusted. He felt that comfortable with you. Your softness tore down his tough walls.

You learn that he had a daughter. Her name was Gabriella. He mentions how much she loved playing sports, being outside in the park, and how much she loved it when he read to her. The book currently in his hand was what she would pick almost every night. He’d read it in different voices for each character, making the story come alive for his precious little girl. No matter how many times he read it to her, she listened as if it were the first time. Seeing the little smile on her face made all the fatigue from work melt away. That’s why he chose it as his favorite book.

He lost Gabriella to what he described as an ‘incident’, but you didn’t urge him to say anything more than what he was comfortable with, respecting his boundaries.

“Sometimes, I’ll come back to this book and it almost feels like she’s here again.” He opens the book to the first page. Its cover and spine were intricate, the title reading ‘Beauty and The Beast’.

He branched away from the book for a moment and began to go on and on about what Gabriella was like upon your request to know a little more about her, and instantly, his mood lifted. He speaks about her kindness, intelligence, curiosity, and her extensive imagination. He spoke about her favorite foods (sweets, of course) and even the foods she wasn’t a big fan of. He talked about their post-soccer game rituals of getting ice cream and how they would spend their mornings together eating their favorite cereal before school. With the way he spoke about her, a ball started to form in your throat. It was evident that he loved being a dad. You didn't think you could fall for Miguel harder than you already did until now.

Maybe that was why he was so hard on everyone in his class; maybe it was simply the paternal desire to see your pupils do their absolute best and succeed. It made you sad because this meant that not only has Miguel been alone for all these years, but he’s been alone on account of losing someone he loved so dearly. His precious daughter. And to you, that’s even worse.

You wanted to say how sorry you were for his loss, but you figured he’d heard that millions of times. You wanted to say something that actually meant something.

“Gabriella sounds like a wonderful person,” You say with a small smile. Miguel looks at you, not really expecting a response like that, “And If you were the one raising her, then I know for sure she was absolutely wonderful.”

“She was. Thank you.” Miguel looks down at you, you both sharing a quiet moment. “She would’ve really liked you.” He says softly, looking down at his lap where you were. His thumb caresses your cheek, making you smile even wider.

“Yeah?” You try to hold back any tears. This had to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you. “Yeah.”

The moment is so sweet and so soft and it felt so nice to be able to just relish in the small silences with him. And when you spoke, your voices were barely above whispers. “She would’ve thought you were a real-life princess for sure. I know I do.” You blush at this, Miguel’s hand on your face only adding more heat to your rosy cheeks.

“Well, I think I would’ve really liked her, too. I wish we could’ve met.” You place your hand on top of his. Despite you also feeling saddened by this, there’s still a sense of gentle positivity in your voice.

“Me too.” Miguel’s face softens at your response, scenarios playing in his head. Moments between you and his daughter. What life could’ve been like had his daughter still been here to interrogate you as soon as she had the chance, and then just as quickly become your #1 fan. He’s quiet when he’s thinking about this, and you feel the urge to hug him.

You sit up from his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, Miguel’s face buried into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” You whisper in his ear before kissing his head. You rub his back with your other hand, feeling his breathing deepen.

Miguel lifts his head to look straight at you as if to admire you, “Thanks for listening.” You can’t help but pepper kisses all over his face: forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and Miguel feels like he’s in heaven. At last, he takes your face in both hands and kisses you on the lips. No other dialogue needed, the two of you sit in peaceful silence again, literally just appreciating each other’s existence. The moment is interrupted by the opening of a door in the distance. Surely a night-time guard.

“Y’know… we can get in an awful lot of trouble if we’re seen together like this.” You break the silence with a whisper. The teenage-like ambiance returns, winning a smirk from Miguel. “I know. I guess I just can’t bring myself to care right now.” His eyes trail all over your face, landing on your lips. He kisses you again, his lips descending to your neck and his hands squeezing the flesh of your butt. Ticklish and breathless, you begin giggling, ‘Miguel!” but he doesn’t stop, “Miguel O’Hara! What if they see us!” you whisper.

“Mm, like it when you say my full name.” he muffles into your neck. “Miguel!” you laugh again, trying to push him off. “Take me home! We have class tomorrow!” is what finally stops him. He may or may not have let the heat of the moment get the best of him. “Yeah,” He runs his hand through his hair and fixes his glasses, “You’re right, you’re right.” He stands up, offering you a hand. Without making it look suspicious, you both walk past the guard as well as a few students (who were either passed out or too deep in their downward spiral of an all-nighter).

Miguel drives you home in something you didn’t expect a college professor would be able to afford. He had his hand on your thigh the whole way, but not before he asked if that was okay, to which you happily granted. The entire car ride, Miguel had you smiling, blushing, laughing at his dated jokes. You were so sad when he pulled up to your place, still not wanting the night to end even though you were tired out of your mind.

“Thank you for taking me home, my knight in shining armor.” You lean over, puckering your lips as you wait for a kiss. “Of course, Princesa, anything for you.” You both share probably the billionth kiss of the day before he speaks again. “See you tomorrow bright n’ early?” you nod, letting out a soft ‘yeah’. “Alright, get some rest, beautiful. And don’t be late.” he playfully enters professor mode for the last sentence, and you play along. “Of course, Professor O’Hara. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Miguel kisses you again and bites your lip, the tension rising once again. “Mm, that’s one you haven’t called me in a while.” You giggle from how easy it is for you to excite Miguel, your absolute loser of a professor, but he’s your loser, and that’s all that matters. You feel his hand snake to your inner thigh, his tongue making its way down your throat, “Mm—Don’t get any ideas, mister, you should head home and get your sleep as well.” He lets out a defeated huff, “ay, Mamita, can’t keep doing that t’me…”

As much as you also wanted to be there with him, having him bounce you on his lap or taking it in the backseat, you also didn’t want for Miguel or yourself to miss class the next morning. Miguel agrees, sharing the very last, tender kiss of the night before finally saying goodnight to each other. You close the car door behind you and say one last thing through the window, “We should do this again. It was nice.” Miguel smiles at you, promising you he’ll take you to the public library one of these days.

In exchange for more kisses, that is. Or perhaps more.

a/n: Haiiiiii, I hope you enjoyed <3 He's so cute n needy ur honor!! He simply just wants to be held!! I have 5k ish words to prove it!!! (So sorry omfg)

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my masterlist, bae! <3

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi i @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu @mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @love4saturn @sukunash0e @tinythebunni

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whiskeyghoul · 3 months

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She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips.

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over.

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions.

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile.

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #Goth reader #self indulgent fic #fanfic writer #tumblr writer

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mellowsaturns · 1 year

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for you, anything

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: joel do what he does best, smuggling and taking care of you

warnings: fluff, soft!joel, domesticity, established relationship, reader caught a cold, sick fic

wc: 900

—

After spending years and years fighting to survive a cordyceps apocalypse and tolerating a totalitarian government regime, you were no stranger to hardship. But it seemed like one thing has finally gotten to you, something that had you weak and bedridden for days now, something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it happened—you had managed to catch a common cold.

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the combination of a sore throat, the inability to breathe, the stuffy nose and constant chills was making you feel awful.

The door opens and on a normal day, you would’ve been alert and ready for any potential intruders but you had no energy left and besides, you knew who it was just by the creaks of the floorboard.

You peek out from the corner of your eyes and Joel was leaning against the wall at the end of your bed, looking at you in pity.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pulling the thin blanket over your head.

That garnered a small chuckle from him. “Didn’t even say anything,” he said.

“You didn’t need to,” you murmured.

Feeling the bed dip with his pressure, he pulled the cover away. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit,” you replied as he brought his hand up to feel your forehead. “I can feel a major headache forming,” you added with a pout.

“Poor baby,” he cooed.

You gave him a weak punch in the arm. “You dick, if you’re here to make fun of me just leave.”

He snickered for a bit, clearly enjoying this before mellowing. “Here,” he said, handing you a paper bag you didn’t even know he was holding.

Raising an eyebrow in suspicion you took a peek inside. “Joel,” you gasped, “How did you manage to get these?”

Because inside the bag were different envelopes of white pills and packets of powdered electrolytes, everything you needed to help you get through a cold—probably way past its expiration date, but still, these were highly prized. You would have had to work months just to get enough rations for these items. And Joel just handed you these…

“Are you seriously questioning my skills?”

You scoffed. “No. But you really didn’t have to get all these for me. I would have gotten better with time.” And you know that he knows it too, but he still got these things for you because he knew it would help alleviate the pain even if it was for a little bit. And no matter how much he downplays it, you know how hard it must’ve been for him to get these items. You know because you’re in this business with him.

You couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips. “But… Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.” For always taking care of me.

He hummed and looked away, embarrassed at the gratitude you were giving him. Getting up, he headed to the living room and grabbed you a bottle of water.

“Let me,” he offered, before placing the bottle on your bedside and helping you sit straight. He popped the medicine onto your palm and you swallowed them down. And maybe it was the placebo effect but you were feeling better already—or maybe it was just the fact that Joel was here.

Sometimes, he really was the best medicine.

Suddenly, he pulled out something from his pocket. “Here.”

You frowned in confusion before a surprised expression spread all over. “Joel…” you whispered.

Turning the package in your hand, you examined its content and the slight wrinkles of the plastic. He had managed to find you a bag of those hard fruity candies that you once loved when the world wasn’t in ruins—something you had forgotten until now. Something meaningless you told him all those years ago when you first got to know each other and reminisced about the good old days.

You wanted to cry. He went through all this effort just to make your life a little easier and joyful when you know it made his life a little harder.

When you looked up at him, he gave you a shy smile. “Thought it might make you happy.”

You were beaming. And if you weren’t sick, you’d kiss him.

He started taking off his shoes when you stopped him. “Joel, I’m sick.”

He scoffed, as if you said something absurd. “Move over,” he grunted, hogging the spot next to you and getting underneath the covers.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“I kinda miss this you know,” you whispered. Because even though you were wrapped in his jacket he gave you a few days ago, in which he insisted you wear because your blanket was too thin, it just wasn’t the same.

He made a noise in agreement and minutes later, he was snoring.

It’s been three days since you caught a cold, hence, three days since you’ve been fully in his presence. It only occurred to you now that he didn’t stay away because he was scared of catching it, but that he spent all that time working and doing what he does best. All because of you—all for you.

All you could do was admire him as moonlight gently graced the features of his face.

When you got better, you’d give him that kiss he deserved.

#self indulgent bc i am sick and feel awful #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x you

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lovingache · 2 months

Text

“𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲”

𝐭. 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 summary: “𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲” | or the first time kageyama calls you “baby” is entirely by accident. warnings: aged up!haikyu!! (karasuno is a university) | no y/n, gn!reader, fluff, just some general cuteness tbh— I love kageyama, he deserves happiness word count: 1.2k a/n: yes, this is based on “first time” by hozier, i heard it and immediately thought of tobio because this is exactly how that man would react to being called a sweet pet name.

The first time that you called Tobio “baby,” he locked up as if you had insulted him. His hand, which you were used to seeing hitting effortless jump serves, setting quicks to Hinata, and generally being the dependable watchtower of Karasuno’s volleyball team, froze on your waist as if he had forgotten how to move his body.

His severe and intense gaze locked on yours as if he were attempting to solve a puzzle—as if he couldn’t believe that you had called him something so sweet and intimate. He gave you a curt nod as he dropped you off at your place, his hand lingering on your waist as he bid you goodnight and your name coming out softer than he intended.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but that night, he felt something stir deep inside his chest, unlike anything he’d ever felt. It wasn’t the same adrenaline he got from playing against hard teams, nor was it the same joy he felt when Karasuno proved victorious over other teams after hard-fought matches.

No, this, you, was different— something simultaneously died and was reborn inside of him when you called him “baby” that night, unlocking an emotion he never entirely understood when he heard others talk about it, but, in your presence, he understood it as if it were a practiced play.

You never pushed him to say it back, satisfied with relishing each time he said your name softly between sweet kisses or tender hugs. You weren’t here to change him. After all, you fell in love with Tobio because of how he is, not out of an aspiration to change him into anyone else. He just didn’t like to use pet names with you, you assumed, and didn’t push him for anything he wasn’t happy to give you.

So it’s safe to say that you didn’t see today coming. At first, you weren’t even really sure what he’d said. Tobio has a habit of mumbling, especially when coming down from the high of a hard match, so you could only make out bits and pieces of his greeting. You were too busy savouring how he held you as you jumped into his arms, congratulating him for a great match and winning against Karasuno’s opponent.

He gave you a tender smile, a rare sight for other people but a mainstay in your relationship, before giving you a soft kiss as he set you down gently. He had murmured your name, that’s for sure, but you couldn’t quite make it all out until you saw the look on the team’s face. Hinata’s and Tanaka’s faces, in particular, urged you to ask him as you gave Tobio a quizzical look.

“Sorry, what did you say, honey? I didn’t quite catch it,” You say, cocking your head softly to the side as his brows knit together, and a blush paints his cheeks at the name you called him.

“I.. didn’t say anything, I just said thank you—” he starts to say, his hand still resting easily on your waist, before he’s interrupted by Tanaka and Hinata running over to hug him, cooing about their friend’s heart finally growing three sizes.

“Wrong!” Tanaka yells as he hugs Tobio, circling his neck with one arm and patting his head with his other hand. “You totally just said ‘baby’! Who knew you had that sweetness inside you, Kageyama!” He teases as Hinata joins in.

“Yeah! You even said it all nice and stuff!” he adds, laughing with his senior as they mimic Tobio’s voice and cadence. “You were all like, ‘Hi, baby! Thanks so much, baby. I’m so happy you were here to watch! Mwah, mwah!!’” Both burst into laughter as they watched Tobio’s glare, waving off his muttered threat of a gruelling time next practice for them as they strode away.

The rest of the team lays off teasing him as they start walking to the locker room, but only after his seniors get their digs in. Azumane and Sugawara give him broad smiles with their thumbs up as they pass the two of you, and Tobio’s blush deepens.

“S-Sorry about them,” he says sheepishly, touching the back of his neck. "I guess it slipped out, and I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.” He apologizes genuinely as he looks into your eyes, hoping that his team didn’t scare you off.

You chuckle, circling your arms around his neck as you bring him down for a long kiss. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” you say, relishing the way he softens under the name, his features relaxing as he smiles against you. “You can pay me back by saying it to me so that I actually hear you this time,” you whisper, teasing him but also wanting to hear it clearly so you can store it in your memory.

He leans in close, the two of you the final people on the court as his team filters out completely, and he presses a tender kiss against your forehead. He chuckles softly at your request, an attempt to wave you off, but the glint in his eye tells you that he’s about to indulge you anyway, “Alright, alright.”

He gives you a slow, deep kiss, savouring the heat of your lips against his— a sensation he swears he will never get used to. It always sends that electric jolt throughout his body better than any perfect set or victory. He pulls back, soothing your hair and smiling, “Thank you for coming today, baby. I think I play better when I know you’re watching me.”

He presses a chaste kiss against your lips, “You’re like.. a guardian angel, baby. Did you know that? Maybe I should start calling you angel instead, hm?” He says against you, and his sudden shift in demeanour causes you to shiver.

You nod, running your hand through the hair on the nape of his neck. “I think that’d be great, baby,” You whisper, a blush painting your cheeks as the thought of him calling you “angel” crosses your mind.

“Is that so? Alright, ang—”

He’s cut short by Daichi’s voice ringing clearly in the empty gym as he opens the metal gym door, searching for Tobio. “Kageyama! Meeting!” He yells out from across the gym.

Tobio sighs, pulling away from you only slightly as he nods to his captain. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Now, Kageyama, we already waited five minutes for you. Let’s go!” Daichi calls, the heavy slam of the doors signalling his impatience.

Tobio leans in close, “Another time, baby.” He kisses your forehead as he starts to walk towards their locker room.

The door swings open again. “Kageyama, c’mon! Or do you want me to call you baby, too?” Daichi teases as he waits for Tobio at the door, watching him run up to his captain, apologizing half-heartedly for his tardiness.

You laugh as he teases him, knowing that Tobio’s doing his best not to glare at Daichi. You laugh even harder when you hear their bickering.

“None of you are allowed to call me baby! That’s special, and I’m not about to let you dumbasses ruin that name for me!”

“Alright, we’ll call you King again, how’s that sound?”

You shake your head as you gather your things, knowing that this teasing from the team is far from over as you make your way to wait outside their locker room— giddy at the idea of hearing him call you baby again.

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littlejuicebox · 4 months

Text

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

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If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

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