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serverusslaype · 6 months

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Shameless, pt. 13

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

OMG HEYYY!!!!!!! GUESS WHO'S BACK? IT'S ME!!

how are you all?? i hope you're all doing well. this has to be the fastest 12,000+ words i've ever written LMAOO. my god. this is the longest smut i've written yet. hopefully it's as good as i think it is... humble me <3 (i am kinda proud tho i won't lie eh)

so i listened to multiple different songs for this part lol. it ranged from j.cole, adele, noah kahan (I LOVE THIS GUY, please check out 'the view between villages extended version', it's my new obsession), rihanna, the weeknd, sam fender. like what. what a rollercoaster fam. ok, anyway, let me shut up!!

please enjoy this as much as i did writing it!! i'm so glad to be posting it finally - sorry it's like 2 hours after i said i would!! thank you so so much for reading and all your comments, likes & reblogs. i know i say this every time but i truly mean it. it means a lot to me. <3

warnings: smut, light choking, fluff, arguing, mention of adultery, MINORS DNI !

again, i've marked where the smut begins and ends with a big red *

VAMOS!!

Ben's fingers curled around his wand as his opposing hand reached up to pull his jacket over his head, protecting it from the rain that was starting to pour from above. He'd found himself outside your greenhouse, curiosity and perhaps a hint of suspicion twisting in his gut. After you'd mentioned that you were having a meeting with Professor Lupin after dinner, Ben knew this was the perfect opportunity. Ever since he saw you and Snape during your class, something just didn't sit right with him. He didn't like the way you were so friendly with that miserable git, nor the way he had his eyes glued to you like you were the only person in the room. Since when was Snape nice to people, especially Hufflepuffs like you? Surely, you'd be someone he despised. Everyone knew that Hufflepuffs weren't exactly the strongest, nor the most ambitious people.

So why did Snape seem to let you slide past his cold exterior?

Ben held his wand a few centimetres away from the lock on your greenhouse door and whispered, "Alohomora," and the satisfying click of the handle reached his ears, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

Before he slipped inside, he cast a cautious glance to the left and right, reassuring himself that he was alone, and not being watched. With a sharp inhale, he wrapped his wet hand around the handle and pulled it down, opening the door and creeping inside. The damp, yet mild air hit him rather hard. He forgot how muggy the greenhouses were. Ben grunted slightly as he slipped off his jacket and chucked it on the table in front of him; beady, inquisitive eyes darting across the room, searching.

It was quiet and dark, almost gloomy even. Only the patter of the rain against the glass roof rang out in the glass enclosure. Ben noticed a few vases of the bouquets he'd sent you were wilting on the windowsills, and the now-yellowing, sun-damaged notes were still attached to them. As his eyes flicked away from the flowers, he eyed your desk, standing idly as a tingling sensation suddenly tickled the tips of his fingers. He padded towards it, wand in hand, nosily reading the piles of parchment sat atop of it.

'Class A, First-Years, subject: Dittany', He lifted the next pile of parchment up, reading again. 'Class D, Fourth-Years, subject: Bouncing Bulb, Wormwood,' Ben huffed, and let the pile fall back down from his prying fingers, wandering around to your chair. On either side were two drawers, and this piqued his interest. Surely, there's something in there. And so, he pulled open one drawer, a defeated sigh falling through his nose as metal instruments amongst pens rattled in it. He slammed it shut, and opened the next one.

Notes...

Ben's brows furrowed deeply as he slowly dipped his fingers into the drawer, plucking a note from it.

'Y/N,

I have taken one handful of wormwood and a careful pinch of aconite.

S.S'

Ben drew a deep, slow breath as his eyes lingered on those two initials, sparking a burning fire of jealousy and anger within his chest. He flicked through more notes, his heart growing colder with every read.

'Y/N,

Potter thought it was fitting to forget his ingredients for today's class. I have regrettably had to take another handful of Billywig stings. He sends his most sincere apologies.

S.S'

His jaw clenched. Why was he leaving you notes?

'Y/N,

- One piece of cowbane

- Two stems of dandelion root

S.S'

As Ben reached the bottom, very familiar looking pieces of parchment laid there, stagnant. However, they were not in the same condition as Snape's were. In fact, they were slightly ripped, crumpled and there was a fingerprint ontop of it. Ben lifted it up from underneath the other notes, bringing it close to his eyes.

"Lumos," He muttered, aiming his wand at the parchment. That fingerprint was not yours. It was far too big. If it wasn't yours, whose the hell was it? Had someone else been snooping around your drawers as well?

Angrily, Ben shoved the notes back into your drawer, though he made sure they were in the same sequence as he had found them. He'd never felt so furious. Why were Snape's notes so well preserved, unlike his? Why were his ripped and shoved at the bottom? If anything, his should be at the top, you were dating him. Not Snape.

With this disturbing fact, Ben stormed out of your greenhouse, nearly forgetting his jacket in the fit of rage. He slammed your door shut, the windowpanes rattling from the force, almost shattering as he neglected to lock it, stalking back through the pouring rain to your quarters. He wasn't sure whether he was going to confront you about this, or just leave it be - maybe he'd just simmer on it, and make a decision later on.

The next morning had come agonisingly slow for you, but maybe it was because you laid awake for most of the night, tossing and turning, unable to find the sweet relief of sleep. Rays of blinding sunlight pierced through your window, gradually illuminating your room as it rose into the sky, painting the once-black-sky blue again. You rolled over to look at Ben who was sleeping peacefully, his dark brown hair strewn across his forehead, a few strands tickling his eyelids.

The thought of breaking it off with him slipped into your mind, and it was all too tempting. You knew he wasn't for you. He was becoming increasingly controlling, unbearably jealous and possessive. He was also arrogant - unrightfully so - perhaps if he was older, more experienced and lived up to his words, you'd let it slide. But he wasn't any of that.

You'd already vaguely planned how you were going to do it. On the day he leaves, you were going to take him to the pub in Hogsmeade, sit him down, and just break it to him gently, praying that he won't kick off. If he was the respectable young man you thought he was, he'd take it gracefully and leave, bidding you goodbye. However, just from how he'd acted with and towards you recently, unfortunately, you knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Would he even accept this? Would he fight back and make you stay with him?

With a quiet, frustrated huff, the bed creaked as you sat up, flipping the duvet covers off of your body. The cool, frigid air bit at your wiggling toes and instantly you just wanted to curl up back into your warm bed. Winter was definitely making itself known. You had to force yourself to get up, placing your bare feet on the freezing floor, dawdling over to your little kitchenette to brew yourself a hot cup of tea. Popping the kettle on, you reached a hand up to open a wooden cupboard that sat just above your eye-level, fetching a sage green ceramic mug and placing it lazily onto the countertop. The cold air began to make you shiver as you stood still, and so you quickly darted across the room to your sofa to fetch your green cardigan, throwing it on swiftly, a soft hum of satisfaction falling from your lips as you relished in the warm comfort of it.

Seconds later, groan sounded from behind you, indicating that Ben was stirring awake. So much for peace and quiet, you thought, scrunching your nose up. Throwing a glance to the right, you checked the clock and noticed it was almost seven o'clock, just two hours before classes began. You could probably nip down to your greenhouse earlier than usual and get ahead of marking some assignments, and selfishly, you could avoid talking to Ben and his prying questions. You'd feel bad about that, had he not treated you like a pet dog the other night.

Hot steam began to billow out from the spout as the kettle ticked, signifying it'd finished boiling. You quickly lifted it and poured the water into your mug, the satisfying sizzle of it piercing the silence in your room. Setting the kettle back down, you shuffled to the right to your small fridge and opened it, sticking your hand in to grab the bottle of milk, however, you found it empty.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself quietly, staring at the empty bottle unhappily, "no milk..." You glanced back at your steaming mug and sighed softly. Black tea it was... You weren't the biggest fan of milk-less tea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You'd just have to bite the bullet and drink the bitter tasting beverage.

In the thirty minutes that had passed, you'd dressed yourself and unwillingly downed your bitter black tea, wincing and gagging as the foul taste swam in your mouth. And now, you were walking through the grounds of Hogwarts, on your way to your greenhouse, partly awake and ready for another day. The hem of your dress was slightly muddied as you walked across the patches of sloppy mud and wet grass, the heavy rain from the night before turning it into something like a used rugby field. You had almost slipped over more than once and your heart had shot into your throat as you threw your arms up to steady yourself, thanking Merlin that you didn't go crashing down; dirtying and ruining your dress.

As you began to near your greenhouse, you noticed that the door wasn't fully shut, nor locked, like you'd left it when you left late yesterday afternoon. A cold shiver ran down your spine and your heart pumped nervously in your chest. Had someone been in here? Or did you think you had locked it? Maybe you did forget to lock it up, you weren't the most heedful at times.

You walked toward it slowly, peering through the windows to check that it was empty, and there wasn't some psycho killer waiting to slaughter you inside.

Quickly fishing your wand from your pocket, you muttered, "Homenum revelio." Nothing happened, and so you felt at ease again, sighing softly. Ben's constant chatter about Black still lingering at Hogwarts had really messed with your mind. You should know better than to doubt Dumbledore - but when all you hear is 'Black's still here,' amongst other ridiculous things, it starts to slowly twist your thoughts.

Without another wasted second, you strode forwards and opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind you with a soft click. As you cast your eyes over your classroom, nothing was amess, and nothing seemed to have been tampered with, so you just assumed you'd forgotten to properly lock up yesterday. You needed to be a little more careful, aside from other dangers, you didn't want any students entering your greenhouse when you weren't around - God knows what they'd do.

Inhaling deeply, you stepped towards your desk and took a seat in your chair, reaching forwards to pull a pile of first-year assignments towards you and your quill that sat to the far right of them. You began to read through the first one, twiddling your quill between your fingers absent-mindedly.

'Dittany and Its Uses

Dittany is a powerful, magical herb that is dark green in colour, and is easily identifiable through its small, circular leaves. Another name for dittany is 'Burning Bush'. Dittany can be used in many areas, including wand cores, healing magic, and most importantly potion-making. It's most famous for being able to make fresh skin grow over wounds, making them seem more than several days old. Another fascinating fact about this herb is that it can also cure werewolf bites, but it cannot cure lycanthropy.'

You were thoroughly impressed with this student, considering they were only in their first year. They seemed to definitely have a flair for Herbology. Your eyes flicked curiously to the top corner of the parchment, reading 'Tristan Thomas'. Of course, that boy had been more than knowledgable in your class yesterday when you were asking about the healing herb. You scribbled some positive notes at the bottom of the essay, not needing to finish it as you were more than sure it was up to your standards. Lifting the parchment, you set it down to the right of you, and began reading the next one.

'Dittaney

Dittaney is a healing herb, also known as 'Burning Bush'. It's green and has round leaves, which is used to identify it. It's most commonly used in potion-making to make the Weggenwild potion, but can be used in other areas too.'

You winced slightly at the spelling errors and lack of description and depth, but you gave the student the benefit of the doubt, considering they were only in their first year. Perhaps they just needed some guidance... You glanced to the corner again, and took note of the name, 'Jayson Blackbell', making a mental note to focus a little more on this student. You wanted all of them to excel and succeed in your classes, whether they enjoyed Herbology or not. With a soft sigh, you placed your quill on the parchment and corrected the spelling mistakes, whilst also writing some encouraging notes on the bottom, avoiding the idea of scolding him. You weren't the type of teacher to reprimand first-years for simple mistakes, you knew how it felt to be ridiculed for misspelling something or even mistaking another item for something else.

"I never took you for an early bird, Miss L/N."

"Jesus!" You jumped, dropping your quill and watching it splatter ink over the bottom half of Blackbell's essay. "Severus!" As you picked it up, a frustrated grumble fell from your mouth. You glanced up sourly at his amused face, the corner of his lips quirking upwards wickedly. His hands were tucked behind his back as he stood still in front of your desk, that infamous black cloak falling around him.

"Still as skittish as ever," He mused, slipping his wand from his sleeve and flicking it gently at the mess on your desk to clean it up. "I thought you would have grown to be a little more aware of your surroundings." Severus added, his voice silky and smooth as he gazed down at your frowning face.

"I am, I just don't expect visitors at this time of the morning..." You sighed, a little vexed, avoiding his eyes. Severus's brows furrowed at your unusual flat tone. You hadn't been this irritable with him since before the two of you had kissed.

"Something on your mind, professor?" Severus asked lowly, almost cautiously as he looked away from you, glancing around your classroom. Everything seemed normal to him, so it was puzzling to him as to why you were so short with him.

"I'm fine," you huffed a little more dramatically than you wanted, "I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well last night. To be honest, I don't think I slept at all." You let your quill drop from your fingers as you sighed deeply, burying your exhausted face in your hands. Severus's eyes twitched as he observed you.

"Perhaps you needed a release." The Potions Master said jokingly, making your cheeks burn. You peeked up at him through your fingers and watched as he smirked, black eyes twinkling mischievously, clearly satisfied with making you blush so easily. "Or, need." He corrected himself, noticing how tense you were.

"Aren't you funny?" You hummed, a faint hint of sarcasm dripping from your words as you removed your hands from your face, cheeks still red. Severus cocked a brow at your attitude. "You know, I was thinking about paying you a visit last night after my meeting with Lupin."

Severus would have been pleased with your words had you not mentioned a meeting with Lupin. "Your meeting with Lupin?" He asked, his black eyes narrowing confusedly.

"Yes," you said, "I'd asked him to teach me how to conjure a patronus." Severus's whole body had stiffened uncomfortably at the mention of Lupin. He wasn't entirely happy that you were in a room alone with him. Severus knew the dangerous secrets that burdened that man.

"A patronus," Severus repeated, his fingers twitching behind his back as he stared at you, "and were you successful?"

"Yes, I was, actually. I might even ask for some more lessons." You smiled up at Severus, his muscles relaxing a tad at the sight of your happy face.

"No. I can teach you." Severus said plainly, rolling his shoulders back. You returned his arched brow, gazing at him curiously.

"You? You think you're as good as Lupin at teaching such spells?" You teased him with a cheeky smile, feeling a little brave today. His eyes narrowed slightly at your doubt.

"No," Severus hummed, and a brief silence ensued for several seconds. "I'm better." He said, a tiny smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and you giggled slightly, unsure whether to take him seriously or not. Of course, you knew Severus was a very talented wizard, but he was the Potions Master, not the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"But Lupin is the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, you aren't." You frowned, a little tempted to playfully mess with him. His face soured slightly at your words - clearly this was going the way you wanted it to.

"Miss L/N," Severus stepped forwards, his legs pressing against your desk as he leaned down and rested his palms atop of it, staring at you with a wicked look strewn across his features. Your breath hitched as his eyes raked over your pinkening face. "Dark Arts teacher or not, I am far more qualified than Lupin could ever dream of being." He muttered, his mouth curling upwards as he watched you squirm. The power in the conversation suddenly changed to him.

You swallowed, shuffling in your seat as your eyes flicked between his glittering black ones, far too tempted to drop down towards his lips. "Is that so?" You whispered, poking the tip of your tongue out to wet your lips.

"More than so, Miss L/N." Severus whispered back, his hot breath tickling your red face, silently begging you to close the gap and kiss him. And you would, had you not been in an open, windowed room - an easy victim to unwanted, prying eyes. Merlin, the way he said your name really, really made you want to forget where you were.

Severus leaned back, leaving you wanting more as a gentle breath fell from your parted lips. He cleared his throat as he stared down at you, shoving his large, pale hands into his black pockets. "So," Severus drawled, "This evening after dinner?" He suggested, blinking slowly as he looked at you.

"Sounds good to me," you whispered, still stuck on how close the two of you had been seconds earlier, "this evening after dinner." You agreed, swallowing thickly once more in a futile attempt to clear the highly inappropriate thoughts that were currently clouding your mind.

Severus smiled at you with his eyes, nodding. His head stayed still but his eyes glanced around for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone else was around. Your brows furrowed in confusion, though, they soon shot up your face as he reached out a cold hand to softly grasp your chin, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched at his risqué act and your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

"Don't be late." Severus said sternly, letting your lip slip back from the pad of his thumb as he released your chin. He turned away and swept out of your greenhouse with a swoosh of his black cloak, leaving you a blushing mess.

"Bastard." You muttered to yourself as your heart pounded in your ears, picking your quill back up with shaking hands and returning to your task of grading assignments. Now, you just couldn't wait for the clock to strike eight o'clock.

The day dragged agonisingly slow, just as the past night had, and now you were in the endgame of your last class of the day. A class of mischievous third-years. Despite this class that you struggled to teach, you were quite thankful that Ben hadn't disturbed you much today, only popping in now and again to observe nosily. You could only do with so much stress.

"Mr Goyle, don't put your fingers into the mouths of the Mandrake seedlings!" You cried out as you watched him poke at the sentient plant, a growing ball of frustration building in your chest. This class was usually so well behaved, why were they choosing to act up today?

"Professor, why are we learning about Mandrakes again? We learnt about this last year." Ron Weasley asked curiously as he scrunched his nose up at you, looking awfully concerned.

"It's part of the school curriculum, I'm afraid, Mr Weasley," you replied, sighing, "aside from that, it's good to refresh the memory. I'm sure you can't remember how to tell when a Mandrake is mature?" You asked, cocking a brow expectantly. Ron stumbled for a moment, struggling to find the words.

"Erm... I suppose not, professor." Ron nervously chewed on his bottom lip, much to the amusement of his grinning friend, Harry Potter.

"Hence why we are revisiting this topic." You smiled at the ginger-haired boy, and then cast a glance at Harry. "And Mr Potter," you said, watching as the grin fell from his face, "since you find this so hilarious, can you tell me the signs of a maturing Mandrake?"

"No, ma'am." Potter said, pursing his lips. "But I do know that they're irritatingly loud and whiny," he smiled proudly, pausing for a moment to lower his voice, "just like some students here at Hogwarts." Beside him, Weasley snorted rather loudly, catching the attention of the Slytherin students Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at the pair as she scribbled down some notes, keeping her nose out of the drama.

"Somethin' funny, Weasley?" Malfoy spat, his blue eyes shining maliciously as his two friends, Crabbe and Goyle, stood beside him with matching glares. You weren't exactly surprised at his venomous tone, you knew the blonde-haired boy was rather rude to anyone and everyone.

"No," Ron said, looking at Draco with narrowed eyes, "just your bloody awful personality, to be honest." Weasley and Potter grinned amusedly at each other as Malfoy almost exploded with anger.

"Why, you little-!" Draco began to stomp orwards with a menacing sneer, looking to potentially harm Weasley. That's when you decided to step in.

"Alright, that's enough, boys!" You held out a hand, raising your voice. The entire class looked up in shock at your sudden outburst. Never have you had to raise your voice in their classes - you weren't known for such things. "You're both lucky that I don't take points from your respective Houses. Now, please, get back to your studies."

The two boys apologised quietly, and you sighed softly, grateful that you were able to diffuse a potentially hostile situation. What had gotten into them? They weren't usually so wound up.

Soon, the bell rang and you'd never felt more relieved. "Since we only revised a topic today, I want a full parchment's worth of notes about Mandrakes, please." The class groaned at your words, and you gave them a disappointed look. "Would you like me to assign you a five page essay on Mandrakes instead?" You asked, receiving a chorus of desperate 'no's. "Notes it is, then." You smiled, watching as they all filed out of your greenhouse.

You hoped you wouldn't have to endure such a frustrating class ever again, though, life was never that fair.

"Ben?" You called out, stepping out of your bathroom in a dressing gown. You'd just showered, freshening yourself up after a rather mentally draining day at work. The second that hot water hit your body, it was like all the stress, tension and troubles melted off of you.

"Yeah?" Ben replied from your sofa, a novel in his hands. You scrunched your nose up as your eyes flicked to him, noticing that he had his shoes up on the couch.

"Just to let you know, I have a meeting after dinner tonight." You said, drying your hair with a spare towel you'd taken from your airing cupboard.

"Another meeting?" Ben sighed and you could hear him roll his eyes at you. "With who?" He asked nosily, letting his hands fall into his lap.

You held back a groan, already knowing what was to come. "Snape."

"Snape?" Ben spat, evidently very unhappy with your answer. This time, you allowed that groan to slip out. "What happened to Lupin?"

"Snape thought he'd be the better teacher." You replied, keeping your tone flat as you flicked your hair back, running a hand through the wet strands.

"That twat is far from a good teacher." Ben mumbled, and you spun on your heel a little harshly.

"You might not like him, but he's still my colleague, Ben, it'd be nice if you could respect Severus for once." You said rather sternly, narrowing your eyes into a glare. Ben scoffed at your behaviour, growing a little irritated that you were speaking back to him.

"Severus? Don't use his first name, Y/N." Ben almost gagged, and this only infuriated you more.

An exasperated sigh left your lips as you scoffed, "Jesus, Ben, you're such a child!" You turned away from him, groaning and running a stressed hand through your wet hair. That reminded you - you needed to dry it properly. Padding over to your wardrobe to choose an outfit for dinner, you pulled out your wand and cast a quick spell to do so.

"I don't like that tone," Ben said, standing up from the couch, "you need to dial it back, Y/N."

"Excuse me?" You laughed in disbelief, twisting your head to look at him. "If you don't like it, Ben, leave! I won't have you disrespecting my colleagues like that. You don't hear me talking shit about your work mates, do you?"

"That's because you haven't met them." Ben rolled his eyes. You grit your teeth. "Besides, I've known Snape just as long as you have, so my opinion is valid."

"You can have your opinion about him, Ben, just don't express it in front of me."

"Why are you suddenly so pro-Snape?" Ben questioned, folding his arms against his chest, staring at you confusedly. "The amount of times we used to make fun of him when we came here as students - I mean he practically hated you, Y/N. You were always burning or destroying his stuff."

"It's different when you're both adults."

"Right." Ben snorted, though it wasn't out of amusement.

"Perhaps when you turn into one, you'll be able to see what I mean." You snapped, tired of his petty attitude.

"I don't want you seeing him." Ben stated matter-of-factly.

"Ben," You sighed, your voice becoming low, almost like a warning. "You can tell me to wear a dress you bought, sure, whatever, but you do not get to tell me who I can and cannot see. This is not going to work if you do that, so if you want a woman you can push around and control, go and look elsewhere, because I'm not her."

Another scoff left Ben, "Are you sure? Because you seemed pretty eager to please Snape the other day when he came asking for some silly ingredient one of his poor students forgot."

"You're joking, right?" You said slowly and narrowed your eyes, unsure whether he was making some crappy joke or if he was actually serious. "What, am I supposed to just ignore him when he asks for something work-related?"

"...No, but..." Ben clenched his jaw, staring at you with a stiff body, clearly unhappy and unable to support his silly accusation with evidence.

"But nothing," You said quietly, turning back to your wardrobe, a pretty green dress catching your eye. Reaching out, you palmed it softly, the smooth, silky material gliding through your fingers like butter. "I'm not going to stop seeing someone because you don't like them, especially when they're a colleague... I see them every single day of my life." Another tired sigh fell from your mouth as you turned your back to Ben, taking your dressing gown off in front of him to slip on the green dress. You weren't exactly bothered about Ben seeing you in your underwear - you did sleep together during the first month that you started dating, and it'd be a little strange if you told him not to look.

As you were slipping on the dress, Ben spoke again, though he sounded a little further away than before, so you assumed he'd sat back down on the sofa. "Fine," he muttered, "if it means I get to be with you, then so be it."

Those last words stung a little as your mind reeled back to when you'd first kissed Severus, let alone first slept with him. In his classroom, for goodness sake. Perhaps you should have waited a little while longer before crossing that line with Severus to end things with Ben so this didn't become so goddamn messy. You really didn't want this to get out, and you really didn't want your reputation to be ruined. Were you wrong for following your heart that night? Yes... and no. Were you wrong for sleeping with someone else whilst supposedly being with Ben? ...Yes. You didn't regret anything with Severus, at all, it was mainly just the guilt that came with it. It was all building up, and almost becoming too much at some points.

"I'll see you later on, okay?" You said, walking towards Ben with a sigh, and he quickly got up and cupped your face, placing a rather harsh, heavy and unflattering kiss upon your lips. Stunned at his bold act, you squeaked slightly, planting your hands on his chest and pushing against him lightly. Your eyes stayed open, shocked.

As he pulled away, his hands fell from your surprised face to hold your hands. "I look forward to seeing you later." A wry smile graced Ben's mouth.

You didn't exactly know how to navigate this situation. So you nodded, pursing your lips and forcing a smile. "Me too." You choked out the lie, the only thing on your mind being a very gloomy, brooding Potions Master.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said that." Ben suddenly said, again, taking you by surprise. What the fuck was happening right now?

"Erm, it's alright, I'm just glad we have an... understanding." You replied, attempting to hide your confused frown at his sudden change of heart.

See, had Ben not snooped through your greenhouse, he probably would have chosen to leave tonight. But, alas, he had found something intriguing, almost heart-wrenching, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. The man was going to confront you about the notes, and you were going to tell him the truth. He just wasn't sure when.

There you stood, waiting outside of Severus's office, a little nervous. He hadn't attended dinner this evening, and you weren't sure why, but you weren't going to poke him about it. He needn't explain himself - perhaps he just wasn't hungry. Wait, what if he was? Was he just too busy to come and eat? Shit, should you have brought him a plate?

Just as you were about to become lost in your dominoing thoughts, his door opened by itself, revealing the Potions Master himself sat behind his desk, scribbling away with his quill.

"Punctual as always, Miss L/N." Severus drawled, setting his quill down as he glanced up at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You scrunched your nose up at his words.

"Was that sarcasm? Because if it was, I haven't been late, ever." You quipped, walking into his office and shutting the door behind you with a smile. You wandered over to his desk and perched yourself on the corner of it, facing him.

Severus hummed as he gazed up at you. "It seems you're forgetting about a certain detention with me, many years ago." He quirked a brow, making you glance away, your cheeks pinkening in embarrassment. Oh, yeah, you forgot about that. "I remember it well, you brewed a potion so detrimentally wrong that it burnt through the cauldron itself and ruined one of my desks."

"Um, whoops." You blushed, smiling awkwardly. Severus couldn't fight the amused smile that teased his lips.

He took a deep sigh before continuing, "Then, you thought it wise to be impeccably late to my detention. How clever of you." He muttered, feigning a disappointed tone that rattled your bones. Even though the two of you were work colleagues now, that tone still scared you. It will probably be something that haunts you to your grave.

You cleared your throat, sheepishly glancing at his twinkling black eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm sure I had something important to tend to beforehand..."

"Such as...?" He encouraged, tilting his head at you.

"I can't remember, it was years ago!"

"Perhaps you were too busy daydreaming about that Herbology hobby of yours."

"Hobby?" You repeated, narrowing your eyes. "Don't push me, Severus, who knows what I might do." A quiet laugh slipped through your smiling lips as you crossed your legs, watching as his eyes faltered for a moment as you readjusted your position on the corner of his desk. You gently nudged his knee with the tip of your foot.

Severus leant back in his chair, shutting his eyes momentarily as he lifted a finger to massage his temples. "Ah yes, what would you, our beloved Herbology professor, do to me, a far more accomplished wizard?" He mused, teasing you.

"Wow, you sounded a lot like Lockhart there for a second. Almost had me fooled." You said sarcastically, referring to when Gilderoy had misjudged you during the Duelling Club. An amused chuckle rumbled in Severus's chest, and it made a comforting warmth bloom within yours. You couldn't help but smile at him.

"I think we're getting a little sidetracked," Severus said as he stood up, his black hair bouncing. "You're here for lessons, no?" You looked up at him, blinking.

"Yes..." You hummed, a little disappointed that he cut your conversation short. You were beginning to enjoy it. "Alright then, teach me how to conjure a patronus." Standing up from his desk, you folded your arms against your chest and shuffled to the right, so you were opposite him.

"Close your eyes," Severus said softly, his deep voice never failing to make your skin prickle with goosebumps. You did as he said and shut your eyes, concentrating. "Clear your mind. Envision your happiest memory." He added, and suddenly, his silky voice seemed nearer than it was before.

And you were right, because the next thing you knew, Severus had pressed a gentle, soft kiss on your lips; his larger, aquiline nose nudging the side of yours sweetly. Instantly, you melted, your head instinctively leaning towards his to kiss him back. As he pulled away, a brief, disappointed quiet whine escaped you, and your eyes fluttered open. Severus stood in front of you with a small smile painted across his pale, worn features as he tucked his hands behind his back, his arms disappearing underneath the shadows of his black cloak.

"What was that for?" You asked softly, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you stared up at him with rosy cheeks.

Severus's smile widened a tad, "I'd forgotten what your lips felt like against mine." He said, inducing a rather adorable giggle from you. His heart swelled twice the size at the heavenly sound, and he found himself unable to take his eyes off of your sweet face.

"Well, it was worth the wait," you replied quietly, grinning, "am I going to have to wait another forty-eight hours for more?"

Severus chuckled as his glittering black eyes watched you, "Perhaps," he muttered, "it depends if you can successfully produce a patronus under my instruction."

"Oh, so your kisses are a reward now?" You laughed, observing the way his lips twitched upwards again cheekily. It warmed your heart to see such a mischievous side of the man who was known to be harsh and cruel, perhaps even heartless to some. However, you had been lucky enough to witness who he truly was.

"Of course not." Severus tilted his head, still watching you. "I prefer the word encouragement." He said, earning an incredulous look from you.

"That's basically the same thing." You feigned a playful glare at him, scoffing.

"No." Severus said, cocking a brow.

"Yes it is," You stepped forwards and your heart skipped a beat as his eyes dropped to your smiling lips for a split second. "Well, to be completely honest, it's bribery."

"And does 'bribery' have the same meaning as 'reward'?" Severus asked, his eyes glinting with a smug flicker.

"No, but-"

"So then I am right." He smirked, evidently proud about proving you wrong as he watched you simmer in your frustration. Your arms folded against your chest again annoyedly.

You turned your head away from him and huffed, "Shut up." Your voice was quiet, but loud enough for Severus to hear as another heart-warming chuckle left his chest. You fought hard against the smile that tickled your lips, but your effort was in vain. There was no chance at hiding it, especially when Severus was the one that provoked it.

"You should respect your superiors." He teased, making your head snap towards his.

"Superiors?" You repeated incredulously, laughing, "Please, more like elders."

"Are you calling me old?" Severus questioned, his eyes narrowing at you in disdain. A year ago, you might have crumbled underneath such a cold, sharp gaze, but now, all you felt was the complete opposite.

"Does 'elders' mean young?" You quipped, stealing his words from earlier

"A little feisty today, Miss L/N." Severus mused, his shoulders rising and falling as he sighed, though you couldn't tell whether it was from exasperation or something else.

"I prefer the word, banterous." You mocked him, copy-catting his deep, languid voice. Severus scowled at you, quite obviously unamused at your poor attempt at mimicking him.

Severus hummed, pausing for a few seconds as he glared at you. "Should you ever lose your flair for Herbology, do the world a favour and avoid pursuing the career of an impressionist." He said with a roll of his eyes, but the grin that broke out on your face had softened his harsh gaze slightly. Clearly, he couldn't stay mad at you for very long. Gods, what had happened to him? For so long, nobody had made him feel the way you did. It was terrifying, but so exciting at the same time. As much as he wanted to push you away, just to avoid the impending heartbreak, Severus felt as if he shouldn't. There was something more to you.

"Alright, well, will you be able to avoid the undeniable temptation of kissing me, and teach me how to cast this spell?" You joked as another soft giggle left your mouth, setting Severus's heart on fire.

"I will try my best." He said as a little smile graced his lips. "Close your eyes again." Severus muttered, and so you did, awaiting his next instructions. "Think of your happiest memory, and keep it within your mind," He said from in front of you, his eyes flicking over your peaceful face. "Got it?"

"Yes," you replied, thinking about the same tender memory that you did with Lupin, "I do."

"Now, with that in your mind, you need to speak the incantation, 'Expecto Patronum'." Severus said, his voice faltering a tad at the end.

Instead of following his instructions, you whispered, "Is the temptation still there?"

There was a pause before he spoke again and anxious goosebumps littered your skin.

Severus sighed deeply before replying. "I'm afraid so." He muttered defeatedly.

Instantly, your eyes fluttered open as quick as a flash, a beaming smile spreading across your pink cheeks. You almost leapt from where you had stood, throwing your arms around his neck and crashing your lips against his. A muffled gasp fell from Severus as he crumbled like a poorly built sandcastle under your touch; your fingers latching onto the nape of his neck and tugging him desperately close to you. His body felt like it was on fire as you clashed together, and within seconds Severus had his arms around you. His hands clutched at your waist hungrily, as if he had been forbidden to touch you - which was partly true, in way.

Despite the clear show of desperation between you two, there was love sprinkled within it. Severus's hands held you so tenderly and dear, his fingers squeezing your clothed flesh with such gentle care that you could almost feel the love radiating from his body. Both of you knew it, but both of you refused to acknowledge it. Maybe it was the fear of recognising something so significant and monumentous happening between the two of you, or maybe it was just pure ignorance. As of right now, neither of you wanted to think about it. You could deal with it a little later.

As he kissed you, he plucked a breathless "Sev," from you, and he held you a little tighter, fearful that you might just disintigrate in front of him and he would suddenly wake up alone in his cold bed. Your chests were heaving now, and you couldn't stop yourselves from becoming lost in one another's addicting touch; the feeling too strong and intoxicating like an expensive elven wine.

"I missed you," You whispered between kisses, your hands sliding from the comfort of his neck to the smooth yet cold surface of his cheeks, embracing him. "Gods, I missed you, Severus." Slowly, he pulled away as his nose suddenly felt wet. He opened his eyes to look at you, and his face fell as he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks, wetting your perfect eyelashes. His chest twisted at the sight - did he do this? Did he make you cry? Did he hold you too tight?

Your eyebrows twisted upwards as his finger caught your chin, tilting it up, but you avoided his eyes. "Why are you crying, my love?" Severus asked softly, careful to keep his voice gentle. The pet name had rolled so easily and casually off of his tongue that he almost didn't notice it. In fact, it seemed like you didn't either. He wasn't sure whether he was relieved, or a little hurt by it.

"It's not you," you sobbed quietly, sucking in a pathetic strangled breath, "well- it is, but it's not your fault, or anything- I just..." Another cry left you, and it was starting to upset Severus. "I wish we weren't in this whole... predicament." He had only seen you cry a couple times, and after that he'd hoped that he'd never have to witness such a heartwrenching thing again.

"We don't have to be." Severus murmured, lifting a hand to wipe away your tears with a tender thumb.

"I don't want him to hurt you." You sniffled, still refusing to look in his eyes, afraid of what you might see.

"He won't." Severus replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Promise me." You inhaled shakily and finally looked up at him, an ache in your heart as you saw his sad face. Your hands were still attached to his cheeks, and so you brushed your thumbs against them; a pleasant, homely warmth blossoming in your chest like a newly-bloomed flower in the spring.

Severus let out an amused huff as he smiled at your sweet gesture. "I promise. He won't hurt me, Y/N."

"Okay." You whispered, feeling a little more at ease as Severus's hands fell back to your waist, tugging you closer to him once more, a comfortable silence enveloping the two of you as you held each other. Severus's eyes flicked between your glossy ones, pausing to ponder over his words for a moment.

"I never thought someone as beautiful as you would care so much for someone like me." He murmured, lifting a hand from the comfort of your waist to brush a few stray strands of hair out of your face and behind your ear.

"Someone like you?" You giggled softly, earning a disbelieving look from Severus. You knew exactly what he meant, however, that was irrelevant to you now. The man he hid himself as, was not the man you had come to know. "What, because you act so cold and awful sometimes?"

"Perhaps," he mused, "but I'm not a good man, Y/N." Severus added, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his index finger sweetly.

"No, you're a brilliant one," You beamed, gradually leaning in towards his face to nudge your nose against his. His breath hitched slightly at your gesture, his heavy-lidded eyes watching you carefully, wondering your next thoughts. "Despite how we may have started out, you're one of the most brilliant men I have come to know." Your words made his cheeks flush a stunning shade of scarlet, and in turn, it also made yours do the same. He glanced away for a moment, flustered.

As he composed himself, he returned his dilating eyes back to yours. "Yes," Severus sighed, feigning disappointment, "despite my best efforts to push you away, you still somehow persevered."

"Unlikely for a weak little Hufflepuff." You joked, a tiny, bashful smile slipping onto your blushing face as you glanced down at his white collar, tracing it with your fingers. Severus took a moment to silently admire your beautiful face, the corners of his lips twitching as his eyes glazed over your soft features, his heart skipping a beat as the tips of your fingers tickled the skin on his neck.

He cleared his throat, murmuring, "You're far from weak. In fact, you might just be the strongest Hufflepuff I know."

"Is that because I'm the only one you've known?" You teased, laughing softly as you glanced back up to his sparkling eyes.

"Let's not ruin the moment." Severus quirked a brow at you, returning your teasing tone. You scrunched your nose up at him mockingly. "You still haven't matured yet, I see."

"Oh, shut up." You whispered, leaning up to hush him with your lips, kissing him with a smiling mouth. Severus's hand held your cheek as he pulled your face closer to him, his prominent nose poking it. Your hands rose from the collar of his black frock and settled happily around his neck again, fingers tickling the nape of it. A few goosebumps arose on his bared skin and he shivered, a breathy groan bubbling in the back of his throat. Severus's hands grew a little more hungry as you moaned into his kisses, grabbing you and gently guiding you to the surface of his desk.

With his lips still latched onto yours moving sinfully slow, he reached out an arm and brushed off the remaining things on top of the desk. He then glided his hands down your waist, towards your hips and finally underneath your bum, palming it greedily for a moment and encouraging a whimper from you. Severus felt his cock twitch in his tightening trousers at the sweet sounds falling from your swollen mouth, and so he swiftly lifted you up with no effort at all, his hands still full of your ass. Even though this was the third time he'd lifted you up like this, you were still impressed.

For a moment, he held you there as you wrapped your legs around his hips, securing yourself. Another throaty groan left his mouth as you rocked your body against his in a painfully slow manner, and Severus quickly laid you down atop of his desk, pulling away from your lips for a moment to stare down at you.

"I forgot to mention," Severus murmured, pressing a cheeky kiss against your jaw, trailing dangerously close to your neck. "That green dress suits you beautifully." He smirked against your hot skin, and you couldn't help but laugh. The raven-haired wizard felt the vibrations from your beautiful laugh through your throat as he licked it with his warm tongue, pressing soft kisses against your burning hot flesh.

"You're so painfully biased, Severus," you giggled, hands burying themselves within his thick, black hair, "you have no shame at all." You added, gasping as his teeth grazed your lower neck, nipping you.

"Slytherin is the superior House, after all, Miss L/N." Severus said lowly as he ravished your neck with his wet mouth, plucking more breathy gasps and moans from your quivering one.

"Is that why Gryffindor is kicking their arse?" You panted, your heart doubling in speed as he began to near the top of your breasts. He trailed a hand up from your hips, and your chest heaved, your breaths becoming stuck in your throat as he brushed his thumb against the curve of your clothed breasts, drawing a whine from your parted mouth.

"And yet, Hufflepuff is nowhere to be seen." He quipped. Not that you could speak a cocky reply right now - his adept mouth and hands were doing a very good job at incapacitating your mind - you had set yourself up for that burn.

Severus teethed the neckline of your green dress, the rich, sleek material hiding the supple skin of your breasts that he so badly wanted to see. Instead of pulling it down or to the side, he continued downwards, his hands following him, gripping your waist as he pressed heavy kisses against your clothed stomach, stopping just below your navel. Your nails scraped at his scalp as his fingers dropped to the hem of your dress, slipping it up over your silky legs, stopping just above your knees. Severus glanced up at you, as if asking for permission to continue. As much as you'd rather him do whatever he wanted to you without asking, you truly appreciated the care and concern he took with you.

You leant up slightly to look at him as a hand of yours fell from the confines of his locks to his cheek and you cupped it softly, smiling and giving him a slight nod. Half of his mouth perked up into a faint smirk as he dipped his head back down, pressing his lips to the inner side of your knees, slowly working his way up your legs with hot, wet lips, kneading his cold fingers against the soft flesh of yours that he adored. A rush of heat pooled in your stomach as Severus neared your burning core, anxiously awaiting his mouth to press against it. You slowly fell back against the surface of his desk again, digging your fingers inside the mess of his hair, gripping it tighter with every inch he closed in on you.

The Potions Master hooked a finger underneath the string of your black panties, twisting it around his digit, tugging at it teasingly. As you were laid back, your eyes were seeing stars as a warm, wet sensation was suddenly braced against your clothed mound; the pointed tip of it tickling your clit that sat between your soaking folds. You whimpered as Severus licked at your panties again, this time a little heavier, the intoxicating taste of you lingering on his tongue. Your grip in his hair tightened even more as he continued this sinful rhythm, your hips bucking upwards rather erratically as Severus caught your sensitive bud here and there. With a growl-like groan, he grazed his tongue to the side of your panties, slipping it underneath the thin, lacy material, an uncontrollable moan falling from your lips at the sudden tongue-to-flesh contact.

"Shit-," you whined, hips bucking once more, "my God, Severus." Your words were nothing but breathy and broken as he continued licking at your perfect core, his heart racing as you further became unravelled beneath his gifted mouth. "Please, please," You begged as you felt yourself nearing your breaking point, your legs squeezing around his head.

Severus groaned at your thighs sandwiching his head, and he placed his right hand on your outer upper thigh, squeezing it. "That's a good girl." He mumbled against your dripping centre, your arousal covering his lower face. You cried out at his words, the praise you so desperately desired from him almost sending you toppling over the edge by itself. Severus retrieved his other hand from your thigh and brought it to his mouth, wetting his fingers with his tongue before slipping two inside of you and curling them, pulling a rather loud, delicious sounding moan from your throat.

"Fuck!" You cried out as your body trembled, that familiar coil within you tightening again. "Sev, so close, I-" Severus could just about make out what you had said through your whimpers, and so he continued the pace of his fingers and tongue, though speeding up a little bit as your body began to rock against his mouth, evidently nearing your climax.

And within seconds, all of your breath had suddenly been stolen, and you were shuddering beneath Severus once more as your mouth gaped open, your back arching. "Fuck, Sev-!" Your brows shot upwards as you cried out, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you rode out the tsunami waves of pleasure that rocked through you; a unruly and wild string of moans and whimpers slipping out of your mouth as Severus proceeded to continue fingering and licking against your twitching pussy.

Reluctantly, he removed his mouth from you, but not before peppering a few chaste kisses against the soft skin on your wet inner thigh. "I will never grow bored of those sounds leaving your pretty lips." Severus purred with a smirk, standing up from between your legs, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he looked at you, red faced, sweaty and breathless. He was rather proud of how effortlessly he had you crying out his name, and you obviously noticed, beginning to giggle. You were a little embarrassed at how easily he had made you cum, and so you hid your face behind your hands, peeking at him between your fingers. "Don't hide from me," he murmured, leaning down to pry your hands from your face with a smile, "there's no reason to hide such a beautiful face."

"Stop it." You whispered, giggling still, your eyes finding his softened ones as you allowed him to move your hands away from your face.

"Stop what?" Severus asked gently, frowning as he held your hand in his larger one; thumb brushing against your knuckles tenderly. Gods, you couldn't believe how well he'd hid this soft side of himself, and you were going to be more than careful not to make him conceal it again.

"Lying." You replied, another rush of heat flying to your cheeks as your eyes glanced down at your interlaced hands. Severus's black brow quirked upwards at your response, as if in disagreement.

"I'm many things, my dear Y/N, but a liar is not one of them." He tutted, lifting your hand to his lips to press a sweet kiss to the back of it. His words seemed familiar to you, but you couldn't put your finger on it at the moment; your mind too hazy from the previous steamy interaction between the two of you. "If only you could see yourself through my eyes." Severus added with a whisper against the smooth skin of your hand.

"Isn't that what I said to you?" You giggled, remembering how he'd replied rather bitterly a few nights ago. "You said something about me wearing 'rose-coloured glasses' or something." Mid-sentence, you deepened your voice to mock him again, and that same scowl returned to his features.

"You're awful at that." Severus grumbled, looking away from you as he leant back up. Letting go of your hand, he placed it on your hip and slowly slipped his fingers underneath the silky fabric, palming your bare skin; goosebumps erupting all over your body from his stone-cold yet sizzling touch. Your breath hitched once more as his fingertips neared the string of your black underwear, sliding underneath it.

"Severus," You warned, your voice low. Inside your panting chest, your heart was like a jackhammer against your ribcage as he tugged the string down over your hipbone, testing you. This was like a game to him it seemed, perhaps you should play along?

"Hmm?" He hummed in reply, his blown, black eyes flicking between where his hand laid and your reddening face. Gods, this man was pushing your limits today. "What is it? Use your words, Miss L/N..."

Your heart fluttered at his raspy voice.

"I'm not sure this counts as teaching me how-," You gasped lightly as his cool fingertips grazed against the curve of your ass. Severus's eyes instantly flicked upwards to meet your fluttering ones, smirking. "-How to cast a patronus." You finished quietly, swallowing as you tilted your head at him with your best poker face, trying desperately to act as if the way he was teasing you wasn't driving you fucking insane.

Severus hummed again as he had one side of your panties pulled down. "So, you do own a brain?" He teased whilst wrapping his other arm around your waist to pull your hips flush against his own, his desk shuddering a tad at the sudden rough movement. Instinctively, your arms flew out to steady yourself, your palms splayed out against the smooth wooden surface.

"So, you're still a dick?" You quipped cheekily, and Severus growled at you, one hand flying up to grab at your neck. It wasn't hostile, it was a light grasp, and yet it still undeniably lit a wild fire inside of you. Your hand had also flown up to hold the wrist of his hand that was wrapped gently around your neck.

"You need to keep that silly mouth under control." He tutted, giving your neck a light squeeze, and a loose moan left your lips, making a single brow of his shoot up in curiosity. Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to enjoy this.

"Evidently." You muttered, a faint and cheeky smirk lining your lips. "Are you going to keep talking or are you actually going to put that talented mouth of yours to good use?" You teased him, poking your tongue out from your mouth to glide along the bottom of your top row of teeth. As much as Severus hated being spoken to like this, he couldn't help but be turned on. It was undeniably hot, especially when you're usually so shy and sweet - he was actually wondering where the hell your bravery had come from.

Without any further delay, Severus kissed you harshly, the passion and frustration from your bold attitude fuelling his fire. The hand around your neck remained, however, his opposing hand snaked its way up from your bum to the small of your back, his fingers pressing into your skin, painting it red. You moaned at the roughness he was showing you, your mind becoming a jaded blur as he rocked his hips into yours fervidly, the prominent bulge in his trousers pressing into your panties. He swallowed a gasp that slipped out of your mouth as he kissed you, seizing the opportunity to dive his tongue in. You welcomed him eagerly, licking yours against his own in a brash manner. As you drew a throaty groan from Severus, you lifted your hand from his wrist to hold his cheek, tugging him impossibly closer to you. He released your neck from his light grip and slid his palm down your chest to cup one of your breasts with a harsh hand, plucking a whimper from your swollen, pink lips.

You panted as you threw your other arm around his neck, pulling him down over you as you fell back against his desk, lifting your legs to wrap them around his hips possessively. Merlin, you just needed him inside of you now, but this was almost as good as the actual sex. Severus's hands left your breast and instead found themselves settling on your hips, grabbing them roughly, pulling you into him; a muffled animalistic moan tumbling from his mouth as you grinded yourself on his raging erection.

He faltered slightly, his lips falling from yours, muttering a "Fuck," as his fingers dug into your flesh hungrily; his hot breath shuddering unevenly. "I need you," he whispered with an alarming urgency, a solitary hand slipping from your waist and dipping itself into your soaking panties, "now." And instantly, you let go of him to kick your underwear off to the ground, his hands flying to unbuckle his trousers with trembling fingers. Your hot touch was a burning contrast to his cool, pale flesh.

Severus inhaled sharply as you pulled down his boxers, the frigid air tickling his navel. Your eyes twinkled dangerously as you glanced up at him, a swirl of butterflies exploding in your stomach as he grit his teeth, your hand reached out to grab him gently, lining his solid cock up with yourself. In one swift motion, Severus thrust into you and you cried out at the full sensation, almost screaming with the overwhelming amount of pleasure and relief that seeped into your bones.

He stilled himself for a moment, evidently trying to adjust to the sudden welcome of your sweet, perfectly warm pussy. Severus panted, squeezing his eyes shut from the immense rush of pleasure surging through him. Watching his face twist, you giggled quietly from beneath him, placing a hand on his face, leaning up to press a gentle kiss upon his nose. His eyes opened slightly as a smile graced his sweaty features, gazing down at you with such tenderness and warmth that you were sure you'd fallen for him all over again. He looked so ethereal in this current moment, so much so that it reminded you of the first time you had properly stared at him in that corridor - just before you gave Lockhart a telling off. It was so vivid in your mind;the soft amber glow from the candlelight reminded you of the torchlights in the corridor that had bounced beautifully off of his perfect features.

A certain infamous three words tickled the tip of your tongue as you stared up at Severus. In fact, they were almost begging to be said, however, you refrained, afraid of how he might take them. You certainly didn't want to ruin this moment between you. It was far too special, and so you swallowed them down with a whimper as Severus kissed you once more, drinking every inch of you. He gradually began to move his hips and you whined at the delicious friction, clamping your legs around him tighter, encouraging him to quicken pace a tad. And so he did, going at a steadier rhythm, the only sounds echoing in his office being both of your ragged breaths and the sinful slaps of your flesh clashing together.

Strands of his jet black hair stuck to the sweaty sheen glazing his forehead, and you reached a finger up to tuck it behind his ear, planting another sweet, long kiss to his lips. The silent shows of affection through gentle, tender touches between the two of you soon made you realise that the pair of you weren't fucking, per se, but making love, and that was something that made your heart swell. An indescribable warmth began to engulf your trembling body as Severus shuffled a hand from your hip to your face, cupping it intimately, his forehead soon coming to rest against yours also. The remaining hand of his on your hip quickly made work and slipped down to your burning hot core, dipping in between your shining folds and rubbing an unceasing, circular motion upon your sensitive clit, prompting your body to jerk suddenly.

Your head fell back at the tingly sensation spreading through you, and Severus laid his warm mouth against your jawline, trailing wet kisses down your neck, nipping and biting it softly, careful not to leave marks - he was lost in the lust albeit not completely, he still had some remaining sense. And so he started to pluck more and more desperate concoctions of whines and whimpers from your quivering, parted pink lips as you felt the knot within your stomach tighten, telling you that you were almost at the edge of ecstasy.

"Sev," you whined, your hand slipping up into the locks of his hair, gripping tightly, "I'm- I think- I'm gonna..." You sobbed, the pleasure from his mouth on your neck, from his cock buried deep within you and from his masterful fingers circling your clit becoming all too much.

"Let it out, my love," Severus groaned against your neck, his thrusts becoming sloppy and desperate as he too was on the verge of finishing, "that's it, it's alright... Cum for me, darling," At his last breath, you came, a wild cry cut short from your mouth as Severus kissed you once more, swallowing your moans. He pulled away briefly to bury his head in your neck, his climax taking a hold of his body, a strangled, guttural groan rumbling in his throat as he collapsed on top of you.

Your hands slowly retreated from the comfort of his raven locks and settled on his cheeks, encouraging him to look up at you. Severus quickly obliged, using the remaining strength in his body to lift himself off of you slightly. Though he was still inside you, he remained there - not that you minded - and suddenly a quiet, almost bashful chuckle reverberated within his strong, panting chest. Instinctively, you smiled up at him, your teeth poking out from underneath your swollen lips.

"That has to be the best sex I've ever had." You giggled, your legs loosening around his waist as he chuckled again. You let your foot glide down his outer thigh, caressing it.

A proud smirk tugged at his lips as he muttered, "I'm honoured."

Another sweet giggle escaped you and it tickled his heart. God knows how he's going to recover from you if you're ever taken away from him. The thought frightened him, and so he pulled you closer for a moment, planting a tender kiss against your shining forehead, that familiar warmth in your chest quickly returning as fast as lightning.

"I..." You began, unthinking, your mouth staying open as you stopped yourself. Severus tilted his head at you, confused. There's no way you had almost let it slip. You fool. "I'm glad." You said instead, smiling.

"Hmm," he hummed, pondering, making your heart pound anxiously, "perhaps we'll start the actual lessons tomorrow." Severus stated, his smile returning. You nodded and a bashful blush painted your cheeks scarlet.

"Like you'd be able to keep yourself from kissing me." You scoffed playfully. Severus narrowed his eyes at you.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Perhaps." You mocked him again, grinning. He rolled his eyes at you and finally stood up, pulling himself out of you - rather reluctantly, might he add. Severus could have stayed in that position for the rest of eternity. In fact, he wished he could.

"You'll regret saying this tomorrow evening." Severus smirked, a mischievous glint twinkling in his black eyes as he used his wand to clean himself and you up, his hands buckling his trousers back up. He stepped forwards to pull the skirt of your dress back down. You offered him a quick grateful smile.

"Excuse me, who was the one was broke this evening?" You asked, scoffing hushedly. "Oh, yeah, you."

"Can you blame me?" Severus quipped, his fingers slowly floating up to grasp your chin, trailing them across your jawline and down your neck, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

"I guess I am irresistable." You joked, smiling coyly. Severus hummed at you again, slowly becoming lost in your glittering eyes. You looked so beautiful in this current moment, so beautiful that he found himself staring at you for much longer than would be considered socially acceptable. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." You giggled.

An amused huff left Severus. "I remember the days you'd cower in my presence, and yet, here you are, acting like that never happened." He said, smirking.

"Yeah, well, you were scary back then." You shrugged with a cheeky smile.

"Am I not now?"

"Not anymore, no."

"I suppose I've lost my touch." Severus mused jokingly, and you laughed at him. A kaleidoscope of butterflies burst inside of him at the sweet sound he adored so much. A year ago, he would have found it irritating, and now, he probably couldn't live without hearing it at least every other day. Gods, he still despised how soft he'd become towards you.

"I do hear some of the first-years talking about how they dread your lessons when they're in mine." You mumbled, looking down to link your fingers with his. You glanced back up at him, smiling bashfully.

"Maybe not then." Severus replied and quirked a brow.

"Definitely not." You grinned, lifting his hand up with yours to bring it to your lips, turning it to press a soft kiss against his fingertips. "You're still the scariest professor at Hogwarts, don't worry. I don't think anyone will be taking that from you any time soon."

"I should hope not." Severus joked sarcastically, finding it quite impossible to not crack a smile each time you showed him such tender affection.

There was a comfortable silence for a very quick moment before the thought of Ben returned to your mind. "I should probably go." You said with a solemn face, glancing away from Severus to the old, vintage-looking clock that sat against his wall. It was rather late, you must have spent at least two hours or more with him.

"Yes," Severus swallowed, and the smile that was previously sat on his face fell, "I'm sure Ben is worried sick." He added sarcastically with a scornful sneer, making you snort.

"So, same time tomorrow?"

"As long as nothing drastic happens, of course. Though, this time, we will have lessons."

"Lessons, or lessons, professor?" You asked, your tone flirtatious and shameless.

"Lessons, Y/N." Severus said sternly. "I do plan on teaching you that charm. Other things just... got in the way, this evening."

"Other things," you repeated, bravely leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, "I think I prefer other things, Sev." You joked, a faint, pink blush blossoming like a rose across your cheeks.

Sev.

You called him Sev. And it was during casual conversation, unlike before. His heart skipped a beat at the affectionate nickname. Severus quickly cleared his throat, composing himself before he spoke, refusing to embarrass himself. "And I would prefer you able to protect yourself during another dementor attack, God forbid it happens again." He said, his face turning grim at the awful thought. He placed a hand against the small of your back as you turned around, heading towards his door. Severus followed you closely, his fingers caressing the back of you gently.

As you reached his door together, you turned around to face him. "It won't." You smiled up at Severus and pressed your hand against where you had kissed him, brushing your thumb across his high, prominent cheekbones. "Not with you around."

"Am I your personal bodyguard now? When was this decided?" Severus joked as he leant into your hand, though his partially blank face didn't show it. You giggled again, setting his heart on fire once more.

"Right now. That okay?" You teased, smiling, letting your hand drop from his face.

"...Yes."

"Perfect." Your smile widened as you noticed the corners of his lips turning upwards. "I don't want to leave you."

"Neither do I, but you must." Severus sighed softly, gazing at you with gentle eyes.

"I know." You pursed your lips, staring back into his eyes, and you leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing him once more; your hands flying up to cup his cheeks. Severus wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you flush against him, his whole body feeling like it was riddled with fireworks as tiny, exciting, colourful explosions erupted within his stomach as you kissed him.

One hand left his neck and you leant away from him to reach for the door handle, twisting it to open it as you continued to kiss Severus tenderly, smiling into the kiss as he tried to tug you close to him again. A giggle left your lips as he sighed and pulled away from your lips. Inside, he was fighting the urge to just shut the door and keep you here with him forever. Your aura was addicting, and he honestly couldn't get enough of it.

"Ahem," A female voice coughed from the his door, and you gasped out of fright, quickly jumping out of his arms. Severus quickly retracted them from you and tucked them behind his back, a bright red blush covering both of your faces.

"Minerva," Severus greeted, his voice flat, acting as if she did not just see the pair of your lips stuck together like a glue trap. You stood awkwardly still, terribly embarrassed that someone had seen the two of you acting out of hand.

"Don't act like I didn't see that, Severus." McGonagall scolded him, and he sighed heavily, avoiding her eyes. As for you, she glanced down, offering you a warm smile. "Y/N, what a surprise to find you here." She said with a mischievous glint in her wrinkled eyes, smirking faintly.

"Erm, yeah," you coughed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "I-I was just leaving, Severus was giving me lessons."

"Oh, I'm sure he was, my dear." Minerva chuckled, and you blushed even harder, going as red as a beet. Jesus, were you an idiot? Why did you word it like that?

"What is it, Minerva?" Severus asked rather impatiently, a little salty at how she'd interrupted your goodbye. From the way Minerva glanced at you, you assumed that it was a personal issue. So, you offered the two of them an awkward smile, silently bidding them goodbye. You caught Severus's eye, and he smiled at you warmly, his shoulders relaxing a tad. You smiled back, mouthing a 'bye' to him and turned around, wandering back in the direction to your quarters. As you were walking further away from the two of them, you heard muttering, and then a door shut. You quickly threw a glance over your shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him. Though, you were sorely disappointed. Severus had disappeared already.

Despite that, another wide smile crossed your face as you folded your arms against your chest, thinking about what had just happened. You couldn't believe how gentle and soft he was with you, he was like a totally different man. A man that you adored.

No, a man that you loved.

this has to be my favourite part that i have written. i think. as of yet. :) let me know what you thought!! i really really would love to know <3

thank you for reading and have a good day/night, make sure you are taking care of yourselves. >:(

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

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@snapefiction

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ventismacchiato · 9 months

Text

42 behind the lens — curtain call !

epilogue

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

It’s at the times between recording scenes where you really get a glimpse at your lover.

His sweat stained hair and tear stained cheeks from a rather intense scene never get old. You were feeling rather fond as he made his way over to you, falling into your director’s chair and heaving a heavy breath. The only one other than you allowed to sit in it.

For a mere moment, you both simply look at each other. You guys were on break so a few conversation topics come to mind, it wasn’t often you guys got to speak as lovers rather than coworkers during work. And while they’re all things you’d like to talk to Scaramouche about, you realize you don’t need to force conversation with him.

There’s a hue of weariness that shows in Scara’s eyes, but you can tell that he’s happy. He’s doing what he’s been striving to do for all his years at university, so of course he is.

You search his dark eyes for his thoughts, too. When your eyes meet Scara’s he let’s out a tired smile.

“I missed you,” he easily says. The words come out easier than they would’ve years ago.

Your heart skips a beat, even years later.

“How? We’ve been working together all day,” you say.

“Do I need a reason to miss the person I love?” Scara scoffs, looking away from you to study the script he brought with him.

It isn’t the first time Scaramouche had told you that he loves you, but it’s never stopped holding the same weight it did the first time he’d ever said it.

It’s a rare type of love. The kind that exists so rarely for people in this industry and that lead lives similar to your guys’.

His loves makes you feel alive everyday. And Scara should know it, you should tell him more often—even if it’s rather dramatic for midday on set for their most recent project. It’s something you’d bring up at night that you two could laugh about in bed. Even if it catches Scara off guard.

But Scaramouche’s love caught you off guard, too, and every second you got the privilege to spend with him was a gift.

And as you stare at him, fiddling with the sleeves of his costume and eyebrows scrunched as he mouths his lines, you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow heavy.

“I suppose you don’t,” you reply, a minute too late, but Scara still chuckles at your response as he tosses the script aside.

“What? You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, “And I thought I was the emotionally constipated one.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, hitting him on the shoulder, “I love you, too. I guess.”

“Archons, you’re worse than me.”

“No, you were much worse when we were younger!”

“It was hot and mysterious when I did it.”

“Uh huh, just go back to set I’m sick of you.”

“Weird way to say you agree but okay.”

“Go!”

୨⎯ THE END ⎯୧

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev

author’s notes — and that’s a wrap folks! hope the ending wasn’t awkward i just wanted it to be short and sweet. anyway, thank u to everyone who read and kept up with this fic, means a lot to me that this blew up as it was smth i wrote for myself. if ur rereading this or are a reader in the future ty to you too! i appreciate the silent readers, anons, and ppl who left me sm cute comments and reblogs. u guys made writing it more fun and easier to ignore the not so nice ppl. i cant reply to everyone but just know i do read every ask and comment i get! i do hope to see u guys in my notifs in the future even if i don’t write for genshin anymore, but if not then i’m glad you gave my writing a chance <3 have a great day/night byebye

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilacponds @uma-umie @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @courtneydefender @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos @cartierfiles [1/3]

#behind the lens smau #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #genshin smau #genshin scaramouche

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msgexymunson · 2 years

Text

Flash

Dom!Eddie x Sub!Fem!Reader

Description: A game of Truth or Dare takes a spicy turn when you're dared to flash Eddie Munson

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or you'll be struck by lightning, boob/nipple play, f!fingering, m!masturbation, I think that's it? Reader uses she/her pronouns

A/N: this is from this ask, sorry it took so long, I had to wait for inspiration to strike! Comments and reblogs are the highlight of my day, please and thank you.

2.2k words

Masterlist

The sound of giggles dominated the room, along with distant bass from speakers a few rooms away. Sitting with your red solo cup in hand, you're in a circle with a few of your closest friends. The party was starting to feel lame, so someone had suggested Truth or Dare, and now everyone was laughing at you.

"Seriously? Out of all the boys at school you pick Eddie Munson? Why?" Your best friend Tiffany was laughing the most, which irked you a bit to be honest.

"I dunno, he's just, different, and kinda hot! Anyway that's not part of the game." You huff, feeling a little exposed. Taking a sip of your cheap beer you shudder. It was warm, you had been nursing the same cup for half an hour.

"I heard he was a Satanist, part of some weird cult thingy." Jennifer said, nodding sagely.

"Bullshit, he's just a nerdy freak!"

"Nah it's TRUE, Jason told me!"

"Anyway, back to the game dummies!" You desperately try to change the conversation. It's not like you knew him, you didn't at all really. He was intimidating, but it was in a way that made your thighs clench.

You dared Melissa to do a shot, not the most original but you know she's terrible at them and it might serve as a distraction. Luckily she coughed at the wrong time and vodka came out of her nose. Shrill giggles filled the room again and you started to relax. Melissa then chose Tiffany, who regaled them in how she lost her virginity to Andy on the basketball team.

She then turned to you with a deviant grin.

"Truth or Dare?" She smirked. Not a good sign. You didn't want to divulge any further about Eddie, it was way too embarrassing.

"Fine, Tiff. Dare."

She clapped her hands, pointing at you dramatically.

"I dare you, to flash Eddie Munson."

There was a collective gasp and the room fell silent, all eyes on you.

"Nice try dingus, but he's not here." Feeling triumphant, Tiffany says something that wipes the smile right off your face.

"He's right outside, dealing to the party."

Your stomach drops to your feet, mouth hanging open. Pressing your lips into a tight line, knowing you'll never hear the end of this regardless of if you do it or not, you take a deep breath.

"Fine." You roll your eyes and stand up.

Pretty soon you were picked up by a whirlwind of giggles; girly hands leading you outside, whispering and snickering at your predicament.

You see him now, casually leaning against the side of his van 30 feet away. There was a cigarette dangling from his lips, his large hands busy counting out notes, you assume the evenings takings. God, he really was hot.

Tiffany hollered at him, hands cupped around her mouth for emphasis. You were seriously going to get her back for this.

"Hey! Munson!"

He tilted his head up, eyes on you.

Well, here goes nothing.

You lift your top up, already braless, exposing your bare chest to him. The reaction around you is visceral. The girls are shrieking, jumping up and down. You can only hear it, your eyes are fixed on Eddie.

He's frozen, like he's in shock. The cigarette he was smoking has dropped to the floor. A pink blush is crawling over his cheeks.

Suddenly he's taking huge strides towards you. Quickly covering up, you look around to see your friends are already running full pelt back into the party, shrill laughter disappearing into the noise of the house.

Turning back, like a deer in headlights, he's already on you. You wince, getting ready for whatever awful thing he was about to say.

To your amazement, he grabs you by the chin, holding it between his strong thumb and forefinger. You stare into dark eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? You want someone to take advantage of you or something?"

He almost looks angry, those deep dark eyes glowering at you. Frozen in place, you make no move to answer. As suddenly as he grabbed you, he releases you, shaking his head and turning to leave.

"Please!"

Having no idea where that came from, you can only stand and stare at his now halted frame.

Turning back to face you, he crosses his arms, faint traces of amusement written over his features.

"Please? Please what? You got the hots for the freak?" He scoffs at you in disbelief.

Fully humiliated, you feel your cheeks glow and tears sting the corners of your eyes. Eddie pauses, seeing your raw reaction to his words.

Grabbing your wrist he almost whispers, "are you drunk?"

"No, I've only had-"

"High?"

"No I've never-"

Wordlessly he pulls you bodily until you're pressed against him. You've never been this close to him before, the shock of being yanked towards him quickly being taken over by the need between your legs.

Breathlessly meeting his gaze, he searches your eyes for some unknown sign. Captivated by his forcefulness you gape at him in response, heat radiating from your core. Your nerves sing at the contact. It's almost painful, your need for him in that moment. One look into your eyes and he seems to find the answer to his question. Without further examination he's pulling you towards his van.

Opening the back doors he nods at you to enter. You crawl into the space gingerly, creeping over the pile of blankets and cushions, finding a comfortable place to sit, your stomach tying itself in knots.

Eddie closes the door behind him, soft lighting illuminating his features. The roughness of his fingertips meets your cheek again as he stretches out towards you.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah" you manage to mumble, eyes unable to meet his.

His fingers fumble at the hem of your top, rolling it higher up your abdomen.

"Show me those pretty tits again then sweetheart."

You gasp at the words, clumsy fingers reaching towards his, pulling the soft fabric over your head. You feel so much more exposed than before, his calculated gaze so much closer. There's nowhere to hide.

Eddie's hands rub gently up your sides, eyes transfixed on your bare chest.

"You've got really pretty tits."

Your pussy clenches at the praise, thighs rubbing together. He grasps your jaw and pulls you in for a hesitant kiss. Melting into him, your tongue presses delicately to his. Eddie moves his hand down to cup your bare chest. Arching your back you meet his wandering hand.

Eddie groans into your mouth, squeezing your breast, stroking at the soft skin. Nipples pebbling at the contact, you whine and wriggle.

His movements get more confident with each noise you make; pretty soon he's pushing your legs apart to slot between them, narrow hips at your pushed up knees.

Eddie plants firm kisses and tender licks down your jaw, across your collarbone, edging towards your chest. He takes your nipple in his teeth and pulls softly.

"Fuck, Eddie!" It hurts, but you weren't expecting it to be so pleasurable. Eddie smirks, running his tongue around in circles, his hand rubbing your other breast, using his knuckles to rub back and forth over the hardened nub.

You'd never had someone pay this amount of attention to you before. Most guys you had been with simply wanted to fuck, but Eddie seemed to be enjoying playing with you immensely. Not that you were complaining, quite the opposite. The hot, tight feeling already building in your abdomen was proof of that.

He moved his mouth over to the other nipple, letting a hand trail up your skirt. All of a sudden his fingers rub against your clothed clit and you moan, tipping your head back.

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?"

You don't know if he even wants a response and you don't feel capable of giving one, too focused on his ministrations to form sentences.

Then he's hooking your underwear out of the way, running rough fingertips up and down your slit collecting your slick before he pushes two fingers deep into you. You cry out at the welcome intrusion, eyes closing in ecstasy. His fingers felt so good, rough and warm. Opening your eyes you lock glances with him, your hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Eddie's staring at you, dark eyes glittering, taking in every sound, every move you make.

"Oh Eddie."

"Yeah? You like that? Shit, you like me?"

Considering he's knuckle deep in your cunt it seems an odd question. You manage a quiet "yeah."

He slows his movements, fingers dragging across your velvety walls, cunt trying to suck them back in. The pace is languid but his fingers reach deep inside you to a spot that has you panting.

In between pressed kisses to your collarbone he asks "why didn't you say anything?"

"I was, fuck, I was kinda, hmmm, scared of you, a bit."

Eddie stops moving for a second. You think that maybe you had upset him, maybe you shouldn't have opened your big mouth.

Managing to meet his gaze you stare into the dark pits of his eyes, pupils blown, facial features overrun with lust.

Without warning he grabs your throat with his free hand, face leaning onto yours.

"Do I frighten you?"

"A bit," you nod.

"Do you want me to?"

You stare at him, meeting his predatory gaze. The heat from your flushed cheeks spills out, as well as the heat between your legs. You feel your pussy clench around him at his words.

Eddie lets out a dark chuckle and starts curling his fingers into you at a ruthless pace. His other hand remains around your throat, holding you in place. You squirm at the sudden change in him, unsure if you are trying to get away or get closer to him.

Eddie nips at your lower lip making you whimper. His strong hands are pumping relentlessly into your heat. Moaning and panting you grip onto him for dear life, feeling the pressure of your arousal nearing its breaking point.

You can hear the lewd, squelching sound of your juices echoing through the van. Eddie mouths at your tits, dropping the hand that was wrapped around your throat, like he was unable to stop himself touching them for so long. He twists your nipple, mouth sucking bruises onto your breasts.

His name fills your mouth, unable to think, only feel. This moment, stretching on forever, burned into your brain, the blinding heat in your gut, the incessant pounding of Eddie's fingers into you, it's all too much. Finally, you let go, cumming with a fragmented cry of his name, clenching so hard around him it's a miracle that he can keep working you through your orgasm.

Finally, you relax, and he manages to free his digits from your tightened heat.

"Fuck, princess, are you gonna let me cum on those pretty tits of yours."

Nodding wordlessly at him, incapable of speech from the orgasm that he just ripped from you, you watch as he straddles you unzipping his jeans. You see the angry leaking head, large looking even in his hands, as he strokes furiously, eyes not leaving your chest. He comes with a high pitched hum, his release spurting out, pebble dashing your breasts and abdomen.

He tucks himself away panting softly, and climbs off you. He stares at your frame for a moment, which must only be a few seconds, but to you it feels like an age, thoroughly stripped of dignity.

"That's the most beautiful thing I've seen." He smirks, biting his lip, then reaches for an old t shirt, passing it to you.

You take it gratefully, wiping up his release and putting your own top on.

Staring at each other, you really don't know what to say. It's not like you know him, you still feel like a stranger. Maybe that's that? Maybe you've made it into the spank bank and you should go on your way?

Awkwardly, you smile at him, and go to get up.

"Well I guess I'll see you around." Feeling slightly ashamed.

He grabs you by the wrist before you can get out of the van.

"Do you maybe wanna go grab a coffee?" He looks different, nervous almost. It's a complete contrast to how he just acted, so much so it makes you giggle.

"What, now? I don't really drink coffee."

"Neither do I, I just wanna have a conversation or something, I dunno." He laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Sounds good. But I better let my friends know where I am before they send a search party."

You open the back doors of the van and step out. He perches on the back, hand moving to your waist, and pulls you in for a delicate kiss.

"Sorry if that was a bit, er-"

"Eddie, that was hot. I'm glad I flashed you."

He belly laughs at that, eyes creasing at the corners. "So am I!"

#ms gexy writes #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things x you #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female!reader

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e-dubbc11 · 3 months

Note

If you'd like to here's a wee request for your winter sleepover! ☃️

F!Reader, Frank, and Billy are friends but Bill knows damn well that you and Frank have been eyeing each other up for ages but neither has been bold enough to make a move. Maybe he intervenes and stages something cute or where they're forced to be together alone, and things get fluffy and sweet between them ☺️🥰

Stef! Thank you for sending in this ask! I’ve never really written for Frank as the object of the reader’s affection before but this was fun! I hope you like it!

Bullseye

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Frank Castle x F! Reader; supporting character Billy Russo

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of a divorce and a miscarriage, mention of the death of Frank’s family (Billy was no part of it in this little au, I can’t write that, I just can’t), and fluff

Word Count: 1.5K-ish

Summary: You join your friends dart league. She thinks it will be good for you to get out of the house and also thinks someone new might catch your eye.

A/N: I guess you could say this is my first Frank fic. Just a little meet cute. I wasn’t sure who to tag for this one, I hope it’s ok I just put everyone from my Billy tag list on this one

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“What do I know about throwin’ darts?!” You asked with narrowed eyes and a slight scowl on your face, planting another dart near the bullseye.

“You know a lot more than you think you do, that’s for sure, y/n!” Jamie said. “I’ve never seen anyone that has picked it up like you have.”

Taking a sip of your beer, you replied, “Jamie, I’m just messin’ around, I don’t know shit about throwin’ them, let alone enough to be in the league with you.”

She took a sip from her glass.

“Come on! It’s just for fun anyway! I get a break from my husband and the kids for a few hours a week and you…” she paused, “You get a break from your couch.”

“HEY!” You said, slightly perturbed at her statement. Although she wasn’t wrong. You haven’t really been out much since your divorce.

After a couple of beers and a few casual rounds of darts, you agreed to join Jamie’s league. She had been wanting you to join and be on her team for awhile now. She also thought it would be the perfect way to get you out of the house and among the land of the living again.

The divorce was hard on you. After your miscarriage, your ex-husband withdrew from you and there was no coming back from it. The distance was too far and he thought it would be best if you just separated. HE thought it would be best…he didn’t care what you wanted.

But if he didn’t want to try and work through the pain and the hurt of it all, then you didn’t want to either. He found someone new right away and his new wife was ready to give birth any day now which is why you were out with Jamie, trying to drink your problems away…even if it was just for a little while.

“Ok, that was a little harsh. Your ex is a dickhead who abandoned you at your lowest point and I would do anything to see you genuinely happy again.” Said Jamie.

With a shy smile, you said, “I’d really like to be happy again too.”

**********

Your weekly outing of throwing darts was a lot more fun than you thought it would be. Plus, the scenery was great…Frank Castle and Billy Russo. Billy was traditionally handsome, deep brown eyes, well-groomed beard, nice clothes, and a sexy voice. But Frank…there was just something about him that drew you in.

He wasn’t traditionally handsome like Billy but Frank just had something that had you stealing glances when he wasn’t looking. The deep gruff tone to his voice was incredibly sexy; you could tell his nose had been broken on more than one occasion but that just made him more attractive to you.

Jamie let him teach you the rules and regulations of the game. She knew he would have to get close, possibly put his hands on you to show you some things. She kind of had a feeling you might be into Frank.

“Is THIS why you wanted me to join?!” You whispered yelled into her ear.

Jamie’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Whaaaat? Nothing wrong with a little handsome scenery. If I wasn’t married, I’d ride Billy like a rented mule but I thought Frank seemed more like your type.” She said.

Looking over at Frank and Billy talking, you bit back a smile and turned back to talk to Jamie. “Frank is very handsome and he’s very sweet. He has sadness in his eyes though.”

After you said that, Jamie went on to tell you that Frank had a family. He had a wife and two kids. Billy had told her what happened to them, helped Frank get even for what those assholes did but it’s not like it brings them back.

That story broke you. To have your whole family taken from you and there was nothing you could do to stop it sounded excruciating. You had lost a baby but nothing like what Frank had been through.

Billy and Frank were still talking.

“Frankie…” Said Billy.

Frank, continuing to practice, replied, “Yeah…what is it, Bill?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that y/n has a little bit of a crush on you.” Billy said with a wide Cheshire cat smile.

Frank took a glance over his shoulder at you.

“Ya think so huh? Well you would notice that, right Bill?” Said Frank. “She is beautiful but her eyes are sad. Wonder what happened to her?”

Your first week of playing darts, you had a little too much beer and told Billy about your divorce, your miscarriage, and how your ex walked out on you. It probably wasn’t one of your finer moments but it was out there now and you couldn’t take it back.

Anger stretched across Frank’s face. “Fuckin’ scumbag.” He growled.

Billy had a serious tone to his voice. “Look Frankie, she's experienced loss too albeit a little different from yours…you should talk to her. Plus, she blushes every time you look at her.”

Frank stopped throwing darts, looked at Billy and replied, “A loss is a loss Bill, it hurts no matter what. Yeah, maybe I will talk to her.”

**********

You and Frank continued to dance around each other for another few weeks. They were filled with stolen glances and smiles. Frank did give you a few lessons on how to throw a little better.

You could feel his warm breath against the top of your ear, the way his shoulder touched yours when he would stand behind you, and the gravelly tone to his voice gave you goosebumps as he was giving you pointers.

“Good…line it up now, yeah? That’s it. Now remember, a short hard flick of the wrist and…let it go, sweetheart. That’s better, stable grip and not too tight. Attagirl.” He said with a smirk.

It wasn’t easy to get a smile out of Frank but it looked good on him. You, on the other hand, were elated after hitting three bullseyes in a row.

After taking a sip of beer, Frank asked, “You been divorced long? Sorry, I’m not exactly subtle. Bill mentioned it to me.”

“Yeah, I told Billy a lot that night, didn’t I.” You said, slightly embarrassed.

“Bill has a big mouth sometimes but he’s trying to help.” He said. “He’s tryin’ to play matchmaker is what he’s doin’.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and warmth stretched across your chest. You tried to cover your face a little so Frank couldn’t see you blushing.

Frank brought up your divorce but you decided against talking about his family; maybe you would just let him bring it up if he ever felt comfortable enough to.

Noticing it was a little too quiet in the bar, you took a sip from your glass and looked around. No one from your team was in sight, not Jamie, not Billy…nobody. You only saw members of the team you were supposed to be playing in a few minutes.

“Frank?” You asked.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Asked Frank, holding the dark and aiming it at the target.

“Where…where did everyone go?” You asked.

With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, Frank took a quick look around the bar, then took a look outside. Billy’s car was gone and so was Jamie’s. Frank stormed back inside and took out his phone as you tried to stifle a smile.

“I’ll kill him; he’s my ride home.” Said Frank.

Frank stepped away so you couldn’t really hear his conversation with Billy.

As Frank walked back to where you were standing, you asked, “What did he say? Where are they?”

Frank smirked, putting his phone back in his pocket, he replied, “Well, he said he’s not telling us where they went, that they forfeited the match, and we should relax, have a drink and get to know each other a little better. He’ll be back later to get me.”

“They forfeited!? I HATE losing! Jamie knows that I HATE to lose!” You said with clenched fists and through gnashed teeth.

“I hate to lose; Bill does too but he always said if it was for the greater good then it was ok.” Frank said in a low voice with a slight smile.

You smiled warmly at him. “You must be the greater good for him then.”

Frank inched closer, you could feel his warm breath against your eyelashes as he replied, “I guess I am. He’s a good friend.” Pointing at your glass and walking away from you, toward the bar, he asked, “You ready for a refill, sweetheart?”

For the first time in a long time, you had gone through a stretch of time without thinking about your ex-husband or feeling sorry for yourself.

Maybe you were finally ready to move on with your life and enjoy the little things in it like darts with friends and drinks with a handsome man with kind brown eyes.

“Oh…yes please. I am…very ready.” You said softly.

You were definitely excited for more nights like this.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

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spookykoolkat · 8 months

Text

the red j.m. | chapter three

CHAPTER THREE: PROTECTON

series masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings: older!joel miller x plus sized!younger!reader

chapter summary: it's been three weeks since you decided to stay in jackson and you realized that your hatred and irritation caused by the man who let you live under his roof may be more than just that.

warnings: age gap (joel is 57, reader is turning 26), inappropriate thoughts, creepy joel if you squint, fluff/nicer joel, and a small breakthrough with joel, MDNI!

wc: 5k

na: HELLOOOOOO omg okay here is the third chapter of the red, my new passion project that i'm currently in love with. i have so many more one shots and ideas that i'm writing, including a request i hope to finish up before next week! i hope everyone is loving this series so far and i hope that you show ur love by reblogging, sharing you thoughts in a comment and liking :P i hope u luv this just as much as i do and hope y'all look forward to more chapters to come! (and oneshots and fics and stuff LOL) ps all love to my plus size girls i love u guys.

THREE WEEKS LATER

YOU

as the days went on, you found yourself falling into the routine of the world you live in now. you decided to stay, and it’s something you hadn’t second guessed either. part of it was nice, living somewhat normally, as normal as you could given the circumstances. It almost felt like a weight off of your shoulders. you could actually get rest most nights without the threat, some nights still being nerve wracking.

it was your anxiety that kept you awake, your thoughts of depression and paranoia created a difficult defeat. It was hard. and you struggled, just not in front of anyone. your father wasn’t the best father, but one piece of advice you took from him was to never let anyone feel like they have to take care of you, always handle your issues alone because quote unquote, they’ll just throw it back in your face.

the deal was, you get a job while you take a few classes in order to take patrol routes, and the job was the local clothing store that did trades and fixer uppers. you didn’t know much about sewing or making clothes, you just remembered watching your mother sew holes back up after you skinned your knee trying to get away.

ellie attended school, doing the best to get the education she needed before deciding what her role will be in this society. yours is being a merchant apparently, but you complied. it was money, at least whatever was comparable to money, and you needed it to get your own place. living with joel and ellie was fine, but you realized it was just you and joel most of the time. ellie managed to make her own space in the garage and joel let her, helped her even. he figured it’d be nice to have two different spaces for one another.

he felt the same about you. but didn’t ever tell you of course. he figured you already had enough on your plate for him not to breathe down your neck until you leave. you saw it anyways though because joel could not help the way his face said more than he needed.

he was used to being alone, until he met tess, then he got used to having someone there and accommodated to living with another person. he hadn’t gotten used to you yet. in the kitchen wearing shorts and a long shirt as you made breakfast, for the three of you until joel would say that ellie was already gone. he would eat his plate quickly, saying a quick thank you and not saying any words as he does the dishes you just made.

you would tell him you could wash them, that he didn’t have to, but he insisted you didn’t. not with his words of course, he’d just rush to do them before you could finish your plate. you didn’t know what to make of him yet.

“i got your plate, you’re gonna be late for work,” he would say, taking your cup and plate to the sink to wash. he’d always be right though, you were going to be late on days you cooked in the mornings. but he just seemed to want to be out of your way and as far away as possible from you. you even asked tommy how to go about living with his brother.

“best advice i can give you is to just do your own thing. he won’t pay no mind to you, like livin’ with a damn cat i tell ya,” he said playfully, but something in you made you believe it wholeheartedly. he truly was like a cat. quiet, reserved, does his own thing, and takes care of himself. you figured, how hard could it be? until actually living with him. now, you’re kind of bothered by the lack of interactions. you were here, you might as well get to know the people around you but he didn’t make it that simple. you didn’t either at first, so you’re patient.

but then you got in your head. you don’t need to let anyone in, you aren’t here to make friends or share dark secrets. being here made you gain small hope, but it didn’t last once you started thinking again. there wasn’t a way for you to have people in your life and keep them safe at the same time. you realized that everything you had to fight for and protect, you failed.

but you weren’t the only one still adjusting and battling themselves. joel put up a wall between him and everyone he’s ever interacted with. it was for his safety, and now ellie’s.

sometimes he’d be surprised by you in the wide living room with a book in your hands after work. it wasn’t that rare you constantly met him in the living room after his shift was up, because by the time he was coming back home you were getting up for work. sometimes vice versa, and sometimes, very rarely, would you and joel be leaving the house at the same time. but still, after almost a month of being in joel’s presence there wasn’t more than 20 words exchanged each day.

joel didn’t bother to get to know you, he didn’t ask you about anything and didn’t even ask you about your plans to stay or not. he just didn’t want you asking questions either. plus, he figured everything he knew about you was all that he needed to know.

you would think joel would like to know who was living under his roof, but truth be told he hardly knows the people he calls neighbors. to him it wasn’t his priority to meet new people and indulge in normal life activities like watching a movie or going to the bar they hold in the town. he molded perfectly into the role he and others gave him, which was to protect and hunt. to do his part to contribute to the new making of jackson’s society. in joel’s mind, he wasn’t in jackson to make buddies and go on dates, and he wasn't prowling for anyone either.

his mind was on survival, and calculating if every decision he makes will heighten the chances of him and ellie, now you, surviving. he wasn’t interested in the get togethers people invited him to, he couldn’t care for the annual small pot luck they have in jackson, all he cared about was making sure jackson stayed safe, that all three of you stayed safe.

so, he put off making friends and love, and focused on ellie. he didn’t need anyone else knowing him and his life anymore than they already do, and he didn’t need a stranger trying to pry his deepest and darkest secrets out of him.

the thing is, you wanted to know him. even if you were still unsure of him, jackson, yourself─you could admit that he did his part in making you nervous, drawing you to something. you still had a dislike for him though. you couldn’t tell which feeling overpowered which.

jackson was bigger than you thought.. there were at least two or three subdivisions of houses, a school, a church, one bar, one clothing store, one hardware supply, and a small park that was really two swings and an aluminum slide. maria told you as she gave the tour that it took a while to build up, but with time came something amazing. something the QZ or the fireflies could never achieve, it was peaceful. everyone relied on each other, everyone trusted each other. except for three people—the three people who live under joel’s roof. that’s what the three of you bonded the most over, the fact that you all have trust issues.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

you noticed joel a lot more over the weeks. he was a grumpy man, a man who if he could, he’d get a newspaper with his coffee—straight black, and read outside on his patio as the sun rose. by himself, alone. how he wanted. and you understood of course, you know how it is to want your solitude. but, you also couldn’t help how eager you were to talk to him. surprised at every small good morning, or have a good day you get once and while from him.

he was sharp and cold with most people, offering a hand to compensate, and helping those who need it. joel realized after a while it’s better to make acquaintances rather than enemies in such a tight knit community, a community that relies on the people within. he couldn’t break that cycle, so he was friendly with those who he got to know.

you noticed how much stuff he would bring back on his patrolling days. a box full of female hygiene products, a box full of new clothes, or more ammo. you watched from the window as he looked around to see if anyone was looking, and would go to the shed he built that was in the backyard of the house. you wondered what he was doing to get all of these things, but you never brought it up to anyone.

It wasn’t your business.

you didn’t bother to pry, and to be your usual curious self and ask him about it. you knew he’d shut the conversation down before it even started, and it wasn’t worth it to you. you did make a mental note to bring it up to him eventually.

a small part of you liked him though. despite the mystery, the coldness, the selfishness, the rudeness, you actually liked joel because he reminded you of you. a small part would be an understatement. you always seemed to be looking for joel. whether it was downstairs, in ellie’s space, or in public. constantly wondering where he was, or if he was looking at you. whether you realized it now or not, his presence brought a certain comfort to you.

you volunteered in the kitchen serving dinner from time to time, and when you did you fought hard to not stare at the miller brothers walking in with ellie. but, ellie didn’t make it hard to acknowledge their presence and notice them.. joel would just nod in your direction, you’d give a small nod back and get back to making plates. you practically fought yourself to not glance over at him, just to make sure he was still sitting in his usual seat next to ellie. and when you lost, you’d look up to his seat just to see his eyes peering over his cup at you.

It was an odd dynamic that left you wanting more from him. you wanted to learn more about him when he had moments of vulnerability, which was only twice over the course of your stay.you only knew he was from austin and was a contractor before everything started. you wanted to pry more, to know him, to know what makes him smile and laugh. and if you were going to learn about joel, it wasn't going to be through ellie or tommy, or even maria.

you wanted the accomplishment of getting to finally know joel all by yourself, it seemed like a challenge to you. everyone talked, people would ask you where you stayed here in jackson when a local notices that you’re a new face and would end up looking like they saw a ghost when the words, ‘i’m a friend of tommy’s, i’m stayin’ with his brother,’ came out of your mouth. he had a reputation obviously, but you didn’t know the extent. everyone knew joel miller and the little girl, and joel knew you’d get wind of the things people have said and feel about him.

he just hoped that that’s all you got wind of.

you were so confused at this new and sudden urge to be around someone all of the time, but it’s happening with joel even if you never act on it. you weren't going to force yourself around someone just because you wanted him near.

you wanted him to be the one to break first. to talk to you first and ask about you, even act like you exist a little more than he did now. you needed him to feel this way about you, and more. you weren’t going to get hurt, and you weren’t going to let it happen by the commune’s biggest asshole.

but then you would come back to reality. you realized joel miller had absolutely zero interest in you. not as a friend, not as a person━to you, he saw you as a temporary thing. and you would remember that the feeling of close proximity to joel and knowing who he was wasn’t going to make your life easier. It was a constant battle with yourself, fighting your vulnerability and settling for being the second hard ass in jackson.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13TH, 2024.

YOU

it was late at night when joel came home from his interchanging shifts with other people in jackson. you were humming to yourself as you washed the pile of dishes that were stacked when joel walked in. with everyone trying to get settled, it was hectic. finding a new balance with being the new addition to the home, getting into a regular flow of things. so when you got home from work, you cleaned up as much as you could without moving things around even though you were desperate to. as long as you were here, this still wasn’t your house to mess with.

you stayed in places here and there, a shelter in waco, texas when your parents traveled there for safety from the QZ, a stranger’s underground hideout the first two years of it, many more people’s homes and abandoned buildings and escaping from QZ’s around the states.but you never failed to tidy things up while you stayed, you couldn’t shake it. you respected your surroundings and were grateful for the people who did extend their hand to you, even if they hurt you and made you regret not killing them.

joel walked in with a hard face and an unhappy sigh, looking towards the open kitchen and seeing you in a long sleeve shirt that’s risen on one side where your waistband carries the old walkman, your hair in a lazy put together bun—a part of him couldn’t look away if he wanted to. still trying to get used to this.

he had to be honest, he found it hard living in the same space as you. he noticed you getting a bit more hopeful these days, not looking as angry as he does every day, and talking more. not to him, but he watched from afar. always had an eye on you even when he wasn’t around. he made sure tommy looked after you, maria, he even made ellie make sure you were okay. making sure you weren’t completely out of your mind. not more than usual, at least.

he had something for you. he didn’t know if it was true, if he could be this far gone that he couldn’t stand to be around you because he wanted to take care of you in ways you would’ve never thought of? he hated that you made him feel like he wanted to protect you. he also hated the fact that you could never make him hate you.

you didn’t notice him of course, you continued to scrub and wash as he came up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder to tell you he was home, sending you to flinch and sigh. you removed your headphones and let them rest on your neck as you turn the knob of the sink.

“fuck!,” you said, putting a wet hand to your forehead as you tried to breathe in, “why are you always doin’ that? asshole.”

“watch your mouth,” he tried and you had to stifle a laugh as he plucked a beer can from the fridge and left the kitchen area to sit in the living room. it was always a little funny to see him irritated because of you, you couldn’t lie to yourself.

“bite me.” you spit, putting your headphones back on and rolling your eyes.

joel felt so wrong. your responses shouldn’t leave him wanting to hear more of your sharpness. he shouldn’t be curious as to what you sounded like when you laughed hard enough. he shouldn’t want to watch your every movement.

you were lost, confused, trying to find your way and here he was watching you like a creep from his spot on the couch. he would’ve loved to turn on a tv right now, ignore his instincts and feelings and turn into whatever show was on. all he has now is a dull radio ellie traded with the neighbors for, and he decided to put that on instead. it was a bit rare to find music, good music even.

by the time he found a soft 60s song, you were done and wiping up the area before drying your arms. you decided to grab a beer yourself, cringing at the dark bottle, and making your way to sit on the couch across from joel. he watched as you lifted the hem of your shirt to wrap around the cap of the bottle, twisting it off successfully. he couldn’t help but notice the exposed skin that was pressing into your black shorts.

“i uh, never thanked you or tommy. for saving me, bringing me here. i’m just, it’s a lot to get used to. i still don’t know if i’ll stay,” you broke the silence and took a swig of the beer, downing it quickly.

“don’t thank me, thank tommy.” he said coldly and looked at the burning wood in the fireplace against the wall. It was silent for a bit while joel’s eyes wandered from you to a nearby window, watching the snow fall. you couldn’t help but think about it, and before you knew it the words were coming out of your mouth.

“why did you want to leave me there?” you looked to him with the beer in your lap, sitting criss crossed on the couch and your fingertips tapping at the sweating beverage. he looked to you once and looked down and around, sighing.

“it ain’t personal. tommy and maria, they don’t take people in like that. it shocked me, is all. i just didn’t trust ya,” he admitted and drank his beer, getting comfortable.

“do you trust me now?” you asked and he kept his gaze on the floor. you didn’t expect a different response from him.

you kind of sat there, stilled and quietly listening to the music that comes from the radio. he doesn’t watch you anymore, he just drinks his beer until he finishes and lays there with his forearm over his eyes. a part of it feels normal, like coming home from a long day at work and cracking open a beer, going to sleep after and repeat.

“I’m trying, you know. trying to get my own place here, and work and make connections so I’ll be out of your hair.” you defended even though there was just silence. you felt bad, imposing on a man who clearly wants to be left alone. but he could be less of an asshole.

“I’m not tryna rush you out of here.” is all he says and you notice for the first time you’re actually having a conversation with joel miller. or the equivalent to a conversation.

“It feels like you don’t want me here. I’d ask tommy and maria for a room but, they’re a married couple and she looks like she’s about to pop. feels wrong to invade their space like that.” you said and drank your coldish beer, not enjoying the foam it created.

he sighs, sitting up from his slumped position and looking at you while your eyes are on the bottle in your lap. he didn’t speak immediately, so when his eyes trailed over you and your bare legs you could feel the heat from his gaze. It made you squirm a bit, your legs pressing together again as he makes your stomach flutter. you couldn’t help but look at the hand that grips his bottle.

“It ain’t that either. you’re just,” he sighed again, half lying, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows, “you’re unpredictable, is all. don’t ever know what that mind of yours is thinking, if you’re thinkin’ of hurtin’ yourself or if this is all a trap still.” he confesses and you form your lips into a straight line.

you stay silent for a moment, before meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to hurt myself, joel. or you, or ellie. I have no reason to. I just, when you found me i was alone. and i like being alone, don’t get me wrong. but it gets… scary. depressing. I mean I’ve lost everyone, i’ve killed anyone i ever loved because of those fucking things. I had no one who cared if i was alive or dead anymore, and it just got to me.”

“and i know everyone’s gone through the same thing nd more, it’s just,” you huffed and moved your eyes down to your bottle, “I’ve prided myself in being alone, that i don’t need anyone.I’ve shut everyone out and been so mean to everyone. but for what?” you asked rhetorically.

you thought about it a lot. what was the point of trying to kill everyone before they killed you first? what life are you living if you aren’t trying to make the best of it? these were questions you asked yourself daily, thinking about how many people you’ve scared off because you felt they were too good for you. too kind, too caring, everything you wanted and needed you sabotaged because in your eyes, you’d rather get the blow over sooner than later.

“your protection. and it works, it’s jus’ lonely.” he said, stealing the words from your mouth.

“It’s lonely.” you repeat after him.

for a moment, you felt yourself warming up to joel, understanding him more than you thought you would. solitude was something the two of you appreciated, but were tired of. having joel and ellie around made you feel less alone, like there were other people who understood how you felt. it’s why you liked talking to ellie so much, she reminds you of yourself when you were younger. she made you feel like maybe there was a chance to make things better for her, like joel wanted. you understood why he didn’t want to throw her in the world of being a protector at so young, she was just a kid. she deserved a chance to be just that. someone like that, someone who has fought and protected themselves and other people for so long, deserves a chance to be the ones being protected.

“where were you when it happened?” you asked, a new song coming on the radio. you figured maybe now that there was conversation happening, you could try to squeeze your way into his mind even if it’s for thirty seconds.

“bailin’ my brother out of jail. you remember?” he asked.

“yeah, i was like, playing with my dog. then it was like explosions and crashes and cars. it didn’t take my dad long to start boarding up the windows and doors. but yeah, i remember.” you said and he shook his head, wanting to say something but holding back. he paused, then spoke.

“I’m sorry about your family.” he said and you gave a tight smile, thanking him.

“I’m sure they’d be proud of you. survivin’ this long. It ain’t for the weak.” he said and that you agree on. you would’ve never made it had you been softer, or allowed yourself to be scared. you couldn’t be though. the two of you sat in silence as the static poured through the song, comfortable, together. he broke the silence first.

“I found some old cassette tapes in the house when we first got here, if you want them. ain’t got much use for em.” he said, standing up as your eyes followed him. you grew a smile, and he was watching you find joy in little things like old music.

“yeah, yeah of course.” you said and set the half empty beer bottle on the coffee table, standing and following him to where the cassette tapes presumably are. he ends up leading you upstairs, hitting left at the corner where you turned right all of the time, your doors were down the hall, directly across from each other.

“I stored em’ in case. I kept everything i found in here, never know when i’ll need it.” he said, and you smiled. he was actually being a softie right now, as soft as he’d get you supposed.

you appreciated it. more than he knew because you didn’t know how often he’d get this gentle.to a lot of people, this was just an act of kindness. but joel miller is not kind, and you wondered why he was being so nice to you all of the sudden. even if he was being snappy and short with you, he was trusting you to be in his solitary area, at least that’s the way you saw it.

he looked disarmed even though you knew he had a gun pressed into his back, and he looked comfortable. at ease, like he wasn’t expecting impending doom for once.

“It’s called being a hoarder, joel.” he narrowed his eyes on you before going into his nightstand and taking out around five tapes. Donna Summer. Beastie Boys. The Fugees. Bob Dylan. Prince.

“I love Prince.” you said with a small smile as you grabbed the tapes from him, looking through and inspecting them. you remembered your mother playing his 1999 album throughout the house when you were a small kid. It gave you a bit of nostalgia, and warmed your heart at the distant thought of your mother. It meant more to you than it meant to joel, and he could see it. joel was actually enjoying the fact that you appreciated this niche gesture for you.

“thank you, joel. I think Queen and Etta James will be grateful for a break.” you joked and the corner of his mouth tugged softly into a resistant smile. still better than no smile. joel glanced at the clock and noticed the big hand hit one, remembering how tired he was all of the sudden. or maybe more so acknowledging the fact that this is the most you and he have talked in a bit.

“you know you can ask me for anything, right? I mean, you know,” he struggled with the words but with your encouraging eyes, he had no problem continuing, “I’ll do what i can for the two of ya,” he said somewhat kindly, referring to ellie as well.

you wondered now what he truly thought of you. if he still saw you as a burden, a threat, or just someone he lives with. you also noticed he wasn’t too good at expressing his feelings, he wasn’t a visibly emotional person. maybe he really was just too desensitized to everything around him.

“I don’t want to be a bother, i’ve been okay.” you said as you held the tapes with grip.

“you don’t bother me,” he confessed, “anything you need, a’right?” he said with sure eyes, needing confirmation back from you. now you really couldn’t get a read on him. this was what sucked the most to you. you didn’t want to say it, but he was so bipolar with you. with everyone you saw him interact with, he was just short tempered and selfish. it never changed, he was mean to everyone and anyone who was near.

but with you, he just avoided you. and when he would come near, he was either angry or neutral. it was confusing to say the least, whenever the time came for the two of you to engage, it was always a surprise at which way the conversation led. It’s like you were able to get a read on him when he interacted with anyone else but yourself.

“yeah, anything.” you noticed you were more breathless than you intended to sound, so you cleared your throat, and averted his eyes.

you realized you stood in his room with a t-shirt as a dress basically, alone with the door shut. It made you nervous, and as your eyes examined the room just to fall on his bed, it made you wonder what it would feel like to be next to him as he slept. you bet it felt warm, cozy, safe. safe in his arms, held away from the world. but then you felt crazy. you don’t even know the guy and you’re thinking about sleeping with him? what happened to collectively hating joel miller?!

you didn’t notice the way he was looking at you until your eyes worked their way up to his, a small blush forming on your face as he basically caught you checking him out. but he didn’t look like he noticed, he seemed too dazed by you to notice you were even looking at him.

“I should go to bed. thank you again for these, joel.” you smiled sleepily, breaking the small silence. his gaze went back to normal, you seemingly saw the darkness in his eyes fade as his eyes locked on yours again. he looked softer.

“yeah, me too, and you’re welcome. I’ll see you in the mornin’,” he trailed off, you just nodded and awkwardly shifted out of the room, releasing a breath you were holding. you finally felt like you could breathe again, like the weight of his gaze was suffocating you.

that night you fell asleep with your headphones on, listening to Protection by Donna Summer, and thinking of joel.

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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should have worshipped her sooner

summary: you are known around campus as a bit a harlot when it comes to sleeping with professors. it's a title you have earned rightfully but you want to change that. as a last hurrah your friend convinces you to go for professor presley, a man you've admired from afar. things go unexpectedly for both of you. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m overall, but this part is a high t i think. pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader word count: 8420 i don't even know warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. use of a cane to startle people. mild fantasizing about the cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone are of legal age ). religious talk. power kink/title kink? elvis being ill enough to miss class. unrequited love that would be requited if people just opened up their mouths. author's note: so welcome to the beginning part of the my heart's already sinned, there's a final part after this where it has the happy ending that i promise i'm giving these two but i'm not quite done with it so welcome to the thing that started these two being- the way they were in the fic i linked. special thanks everyone who has listened to me scream about these two, y'all know who you are. and i kind of tagged anyone who reblogged this/left a comment on the last one sorry if you didn't want to be tagged but i at least promise the smut for the last part is- a beast and i wrap it up in a nice bow. and y'all know the drill, pick your elvis poison, this is written with real elvis in mind but you can imagine austin elvis.

"I'm just saying it'd be a waste to not try this last time. I get it, I support you and I'm proud of you. But you're- if anyone could sleep with Professor Presley, it would probably be you. I'd bet good money, we could win good money." Noelle says, brandishing her fork at you over dinner. "I could see you and him getting along."

You roll your eyes at her antics before glaring at her with a mouthful of your food. You swallow before shaking head. "Of course, because the religious studies professor who everyone knows goes for women who are not going to our school and who is pretty religious himself would go for me, the "Tour Guide" for the school. I could definitely see it."

Normally your sarcasm would clue Noelle into dropping it but she can't help but continue her line of thought. "That's why, though. You're not his type, though we both know you love taking orders from someone big and strong. And you and both know how big and strong you think he is."

"I told you that with the idea that you wouldn't use it against me." You whine, poking her with your fork. "If I agree to this, if I agree to try, will you never mention it again?"

There's a moment where your friend debates whether or not she wants to agree to the terms before she nods solemnly. "I'll bury my knowledge of you liking Professor Presley and any other professors who are big and strong deep within me. As long as you tell me if you do manage to sleep with him. Just for my own selfish desire."

You can't help the way your lips purse but you nod anyway. "Deal."

Seeing Professor Presley up close, breathing in his scent as he walks by is something entirely different than seeing him from afar, seeing him from across the way, talking to the selected group of other professors from varying different departments that he dubbed his Memphis Mafia. Did it matter that not everyone was from Memphis? No. Did it matter that technically speaking neither was Professor Presley himself? Also no, because they had come to Tennessee and fell right into the lap of someone who from what rumors say is practically a King in Memphis. He was imposing enough from afar, capable of commanding his group like it was nothing but in person? In the same room as you with his eyes flitting around the still empty classroom? That was another thing entirely, that was the universe narrowing its focus to just this room, to just this part of the room where you're sitting in a dress jotting down a note- or ten- in your planner. The tap of his cane gives him away even as you don't look up and it's perhaps for the best because if you had looked up your reaction to Professor Presley might not have been as chaste as it is. After all, how is a woman supposed to react to someone looking at you like you're some priceless religious tome- like you're more beautiful than every angel in heaven or any god or goddess in any religion especially when most people on campus have never seen that look on Professor Presley.

He stops in front of you, tapping his cane once on the ground and clears his throat. "Pretty early for class, aren't ya? One of those overachievers?"

Your first instinct, the one that you have to tamp down on when you look up is to roll your eyes and try and say something cute. Something charming to rope him in like you've done with so many other professors. What you do instead is look up at him with a small smile. "Something like that." Not at all like that, if he asked anyone else. "And I wanted to get a good seat. I know in classes like this a lot of people take al the good ones if you don't stake your claim first. Is it a problem, Mr. Presley?"

Elvis lets out a short whistle that sounds more like him saying whew than anything else before he starts to laugh, shaking his head. "Now I know ya ain't calling me Mr. Presley like ya talkin' to my daddy. Know I ain't a spring chicken no more, but ya gotta way of takin' a man down a peg wit' that."

Almost as if you can't control your body, your head tilts a little as you raise an eyebrow. "What do you want me to call you, then? Professor Presley?"

Elvis's leg and cock twitches at his title slipping from your lips as if you're just casually reading off a menu or a list of ingredients. Never in his life has he thought being referred to as his title was arousing and yet there you were having him react like that. He shakes his head and licks at his lips before answering. "Elvis." He pauses to exhale quietly. "Call me Elvis."

You blink once and a slow gentle smile crosses your lips. "Elvis." It feels surprisingly right leaving your mouth, feels surprisingly right being on your tongue. "In that case, is me choosing a seat a problem, Elvis?"

It was a mistake to have you call him by his God given name, oh it was a mistake because now he knows how it sounds rolling off your tongue. Knows how the angel standing in front of him, this sweet girl that he knows isn't what she seems, sounds saying his name. He wants to hear it more, he is- he knows he shouldn't but there is something about the way the syllables fall from her lips that sound like a hymn, the musicality he only ever hears in them falling from her lips. He'd call you a siren if he didn't know any better but no, no you're something else entirely. A moment passes before he answers, trying to tamp down on the arousal he feels in his veins at your use of his name, innocent as it may have been.

"It is, darlin', because that's not where I planned on ya sittin'. A girl like ya in the middle of my class? Tryin' to hide from me? That won't do at all." He lifts up his cane and uses it to rap against the chair two rows in front of you. It's a seat in a spot you hate, at the end of the row and smack dab right in front of the podium. Even though you were planning on trying to charm him throughout the semester and you planned on paying attention in class the idea of being right there in front of everyone made you feel a little self conscious for some reason. "Front row, right there. Up n'at 'em."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and pout just a little bit before you gather your items and your bag, standing up and walking to the aforementioned seat. There's a part of you that wants to turn around, wants to be a little childish and stick your tongue out at him but while you've heard that Professor Presley- Elvis was a bit of a child at heart, something tells you he'd prefer the show of respect and so you resist. Instead you choose to just go back to what you were doing originally, thinking that perhaps he was done talking to you. You hardly register the tap of his cane on the floor approaching you yet again, and what part of your brain does assumes he's heading to the front of the classroom before you feel the warmth of his hand against your shoulder. On top of your shoulder, really, the sheer size of his hand making it so that the heat emanating from it feels like a fire licking at your skin. You swear you hear your heartbeat roaring in your ears and feel it rushing through your body and your head. Despite this or perhaps because of it, your brain narrows to just you and Elvis and your ears that aren't hearing a single other thing in the room at the present time can hear the words leaving his mouth.

"That's a good girl." His voice practically rumbles against you and you know he's not pressed up against you, there's no reason you should swear that you can feel the vibration of his words and yet here you were. "Doin' what you're told." He pauses. "Be prepared f'me to call on ya today."

You don't realize when your eyes shut of their own volition until you have to force them to open at his question. Part of the reason you had chosen your seat was to really study Elvis in his class setting properly without him being able to really study you back or accuse you of being distracted, but here you were being thrust into his view and under his constant attention. You swallow slowly and exhale. "I-Are you prepared to hear my answers to what you ask?"

There's a moment where you swear you see or maybe you feel Elvis bending closer to you, to maybe brush his mouth against your ear. You know you're imagining it though, knowing he wouldn't be that close to your neck and the shell of your ear. "Darlin', don't think 've ever been more prepared for somethin' in m'life. 'sides, curious what's inside that head of yours."

A smile crosses your lips, small but still ever present before you respond. "Careful what you wish for, Elvis. Might live to regret giving me a challenge."

"Regret giving ya a challenge?" He moves to be in front of you, trying to walk to the front of the room before he looks back at you his eyes dancing with something you'd like to call amusement before he shakes his head. "Doubt it, if anything you might become my favorite student because of it."

There's a rush of heat that runs through your body at those words and you find yourself biting your lower lip and looking down, bashful and yet thoroughly delighted. You open your mouth to say something only to realize he's not paying attention any more, that he's already moved to the bottom where his podium is and you take that to be a sign you should get back to your other notes. The moment you bury yourself into them, looking down instead of looking up at him, he allows himself to stare at you, thanking God you had to take his class this semester.

Your class goes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself marveling at how he's commanding the room with everyone actually paying full attention even as they take notes. True to his word he calls on you multiple times and you find that seeing how his mouth splits into a grin and how he seems to have a bit more of a pep in his step as he moves to the next point after you provide a bit of debate with him. Elvis has always supposedly had a way of making a mildly boring subject to most be a rather boisterous and entertaining class but if anyone who had his class before were to see him today- hell- if any of the Mafia had seen this class today they'd wonder what he took to have all the energy he has.

The next class is a few days later and you remember what Elvis had said, that he assigns his seats and that he had specifically picked out your seat for you. A thought crosses your head to sit in a different seat but after that first class you find you enjoy where he put you, find that it fits your plans for the semester but it also makes you feel watched by him versus watched by everyone else, which was the reason you had avoided it in the first place. Elvis is running a bit late to class that day, he's still there before it starts but there's more people in the room and you barely hear the tap of his cane before you feel his warm hand on your shoulder and you swear you feel the heat from the rest of his body against your back as he leans over to you, his voice pitched low and rumbling in a way that has you shivering just slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as images of him speaking to you like that as you roll together among his sheets before you open your eyes.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be, Y/N." He murmurs and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his tone before you shake your head in an attempt to clear it. "Better than everyone else around here."

"You assigned the seat and I'm good at following directions when I want to." You answer, clenching your pen just a little bit tighter in an effort to keep yourself from doing anything stupid. You had a plan forming in your head for how you wanted this to go and falling for him- falling immediately into his arms wasn't how you wanted it to go in the slightest. "I wanted to for you, Elvis."

You swear you feel or maybe you hear Elvis growl a little at your words and it has your toes curling in your boots just a little. Against your will you shiver just a bit and when Elvis speaks you can definitely hear a smile in his tone as he squeezes your shoulder. "Oughta get a jacket, darlin'." He removes his hand and you bite your lower lip to keep a noise from escaping, knowing you're around people before you hear the rustle of fabric and then feel the the warmth of fabric and the scent of Elvis- at least you think it's his scent- envelop you as you look down and see a jacket that is not your own around your shoulders. You open your mouth, turning around to say something before he shakes his head, motioning for you to put it on properly, not just have it draped around your shoulders "Use it for right now. Just gotta give it back after class. Hate to have you distracted because you're cold."

There's words on the tip of your tongue but they're jumbled up the second you look at Elvis and see him without the jacket, his shirt tailored enough that the buttons don't rebel against any part of his waist or chest and you merely nod, swallowing your spit as to not drool. You had already found Professor Presley attractive from afar and you had already planned on trying to sleep with him but this- oh this might be a genuine problem. You're not used to this, you're used to the men being sweet maybe but not- like this and not after such a short period of time. By the time Elvis has turned around, ready to start the class you find yourself burrowing into his jacket, hugging it tightly to your chest. You don't bother to look up at him until he calls on you, unsure if you want to see just how he feels about you wearing his jacket but when you do look, you find yourself relieved and a little put out that he doesn't seem to care about you wearing it. Almost as if he had offered it to you with the intention of just keeping you warm with no strings attached and nothing behind the action. It's not an unwelcome concept just entirely new. By the end of class you find that his jacket around you has relaxed you, made you a little more bolder than you already are and it appears to be lighting a fire in Elvis's eyes that spurs you on even more. You wait until the class has dispersed other than the two of you before you make your way down to the podium, your books in your bag. You've made no motion to actually take off Elvis's jacket and when he notices his heart stops in his chest. He thinks you look good in his jacket, thinks you look like you belong wearing his clothes and he has to look away for a moment, leaning on his cane before he exhales.

"Do ya want to come to my office?" He starts, allowing one of his hands to play with the lapel of the jacket. "We had to cut our debate short so everyone else could have a chance but-"

"I'd love to." Your answer comes so quickly out of your mouth and so eagerly that both of you look a little startled by it before you both start to laugh. "Sorry- I meant-"

He shakes his head, moving to smooth out the shoulder of his jacket. "Don't apologize. Not for bein' excited like that. It's- People like my class, darlin' but not usually like this. It's nice to see. Helps me- I enjoy it, alright? Don't even dream of being sorry 'bout it. Just walk with me to the office, alr'ght?"

You nod and start to follow him. Maybe it's because he usually takes his time when he heads into class but you're prepared for one speed as far as walking goes only to realize you're more behind than you mean to be before you've even crossed the threshold of the classroom. It's easy to catch up though and you find yourself just talking to Elvis about the debate you had been having with him, keeping your passion in check as to not alarm anyone passing by but still proving to be enough of a spitfire that Elvis can't help but have a huge grin on his face as he fires back his own responses. More than once his eyes drift to his jacket, not that you notice too busy hugging it just a little closer to your body for the warmth but the surprising comfort you find it brings. The pair of you reach his office quicker than either of you expect as he unlocks the door and ushers you in. A part of you wonders if this is it, if this is him just bringing you in here like every professor ever has after you've charmed them only to have sex and be done with it. He motions to the couch for you to sit on as he moves the chair out from behind his desk to relax in it across from you, his eyes glinting with unashamed delight. "Lay it on me, Y/N. Tell me what ya were really thinkin' in class."

The grin that breaks out on your face is one of unabashed joy that has Elvis's heart stuttering in his chest for a moment before you launch into a tirade that has him laughing loud enough that the professors in the rooms beside him take note and the members of his mafia who are about to come see him stop at the door before turning around, figuring interrupting whatever that is can wait. it's not that Elvis hasn't laughed like that in a while but- they forgot what it was like to hear him laugh like that when he wasn't with them and hearing your laugh follow suit as he talks they realize it's best to not interrupt. You're a bit late for your next class as you lose track of time but when you finally do leave the room you make move to take off the jacket only to have Elvis's hand stop you.

"Keep it. Got a dozen like it at my house. Won't miss that one." He pauses before he shrugs. "'Sides, you look good in blue."

Your breath catches in your throat as you try and speak, try and tell him that you can't keep his jacket before a baser part of you, a part of you in the back of your mind wants to let him lay the claim on you. That's what you want, right? To have him want you enough to fall into bed with him and maybe you get to keep a trophy for once to go along with the one you'd leave him. His eyes rake over you for a second before he opens the door and motions you out. "Go on, out ya go, just tell 'em I kept ya real late. They'll understand, I can talk an ear off."

A nod is the only thing you manage as you leave, risking a glance back at him and seeing nothing but him closing the door. You think you hear him say something like "lord have mercy" but you figure you imagined it.

And so it goes throughout the semester, you wearing his jacket on certain days you see him, finding yourself in his office practically every day after class with the only exception being the occasional days you had plans in between his class and your other one. It becomes an integral part of your life, arguing with him in class as you take notes and arguing with him in his office in between sips of Pepsi and coffee and finding out more and more about him as a person. Noelle tries to press about how things are going- noting how you seem happier than she's ever seen you in an attempt to sleep with a professor. There's a thought you have to tell her, to pick her brain on if this is what a normal progression to something more as an adult is supposed to be but you find yourself wanting to keep whatever it is you're nurturing with Elvis a secret even if half of his Memphis Mafia has come in to see you grinning on his desk or him laughing with you on the couch. Their knowing looks say it all but you don't pay any mind for once and Elvis- well he does command them for a reason. Both of you are so used to each other's company that when you leave his office one day you can't help but notice he's looking a little more tired than normal and you find yourself frowning before you leave, your hand moving to cup his face with the sleeve of his suit jacket just covering your hand.

"Are you feeling alright? You look-" Worn out, tired, sick are all the words that come to mind before you settle on a single word. "Exhausted."

Unbidden, Elvis nuzzles into your hand, his eyes shutting momentarily before pulling away, realizing what he's doing. "'m fine. See ya after m'next class?"

Your frown deepens before you exhale as you nod. "Always. Get some rest, though, Elvis. Can't have you letting me win because you're tired."

"Never." His chuckle is soft before he shuts the door, leaning on it for a second before he moves to the couch to just take a nap. What you don't know is that Jerry and Joe find him after he misses his next class to teach and that they take him home, setting him up to rest before leaving.

Finding out that Elvis isn't there for the next class feels as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Sure it's a little chillier outside now, but that has nothing to do with the cold that seeps into your bones and has you hugging his jacket closer to you. You're not- You shouldn't be worried about him the way you are, you think. He's just your professor and while he's proven to be the nicest person and has proven to be so much more in general this isn't what you're supposed to do with a professor. This isn't- you know better, because they've always got a wife or a girlfriend or you're just the fling for the semester but it feels- you feel different with Elvis. Sometimes in his office you just do your work for other classes, enjoying the company of someone who you can talk to so easily after an invigorating time in his actual class. He never seems to mind, never makes a move to kick you out, instead choosing to kick back on his couch and read some text for the lesson plan for next week, occasionally asking you if you think he should tweak the plan. You had told him to tweak this week's plan about two weeks ago and you had been excited to see what he was going to do with it only to find him not here, instead a substitute- you think it might be Joe from the Memphis Mafia stepping in. You know this isn't his area of expertise, but you figure maybe he's one of the few people Elvis trusts to teach his class.

It goes by fine enough with a paper being assigned to make up for the fact that Elvis wasn't there. You find yourself wondering if he's alright, worrying if he's sick as you hear whispers from your classmates about the status of his health because "he had this problem last semester didn't he" and "not surprised, we've all seen how he is coming into class". You feel like you should have noticed something was up and done more to help before you realize you couldn't have because there's some things Elvis keeps close to his chest. The thoughts that run through your mind and envelop it to the point where before you realize it you find yourself at his office door, completely forgetting that he's not there- that he's not here for you to talk to. Once again you hug his jacket closer to you, sniffling as you head to your apartment before your next class. He- He'll have to be there for the class after this one. You just had to wait a couple of days to see him.

Those two days feel like some of the longest ones in your life, Noelle notices the change in your mood and asks if it has anything to do with the lack of Professor Presley today. Your answer- or lack thereof give her the only confirmation she needs before pulling you into a hug. She doesn't press beyond that, choosing to distract you with tales of how stupid everyone else is as the hours tick by until that Friday. You've got on one of your own jackets, choosing to leave behind his at your apartment just in case he isn't there again. As you put on the finishing touches to your paper you hear the tap of his cane and a tension you didn't realize was within your shoulders dissipates, causing them to droop down just a little before you feel his warm hand against your shoulder and his breath against your ear.

"Glad to see you where you're supposed to be." His voice is tired and tight but you can still hear the warmth and the rumble you like to think he only reserves for you.

"Always. Even when you're not here." You answer, turning a little try and look up at him before he shakes his head and mouths the word later to you as he slowly makes his way to the podium. He sits on the chair, a true rarity that has a few gasps including your own erupt from the class before he waves you all off.

"Stomach bug, still feeling a little off. Don't get used to it." He says before launching into the lesson plan a little more subdued than normal but still with enough vigor that the class barely misses a beat.

When it ends you see him still just sitting on the stool before he moves to get up with a grunt as you stand in front of him. "I owe you a meetin' don't I? Last class of the day, right?"

You nod, smiling softly. "You know my schedule too well, Elvis. Last class. So I can be in the office as long as I'd like. If you're not too-"

"Don't ya accuse me of being too tired, Y/N." He starts to walk to the door and motions for you to follow him. "'m older than you all. Can't always bounce back as quick. 'll be fine come Monday. Provided I can get through all these papers Joe decided on assigning y'all."

There's a response at the tip of your tongue that you swallow until you reach his office, watching as he flops onto the couch, his bag falling next to him and his cane following suit. You make sure to not startle him and sit on the coffee table in front of him, your hands moving to touch his knees as you speak. "I could help you with them. The papers I mean. I've- I'm pretty light on my classwork this weekend so I don't mind."

His eyes dart around your face, trying to find a lie in what you've said only to come up with nothing. You're being genuine in wanting to help him and that has a rush of fire traveling from his chest to every part of his body. He's gotten used to women he dates not necessarily caring the way you are right now. Not for the first time since his first class with you he finds himself falling more for you than he already was. It almost makes him feel like a younger man again, makes him feel like that young man tripping over his words with girls while also making him feel like that young man who had girls falling all over themselves for him because of his hips. He sees your face morphing into one of regret before he nods. "If- If you don't mind spendin' a while wit' me 'll definitely take the help."

A smile crosses your features as you grab his bag and start to pull out the papers, splitting the first pile out between the two of you and leaving the room to grab you both Pepsis. He watches you leave and exhales slowly rubbing his face with his hand, praying to every god he knew that he could keep himself in check with you acting so helpful near him like this. When you come back there's a moment where he's about to say something before he stops himself, allowing himself to just focus on the papers, kicking up his feet on the couch while you take his desk. His door is locked as to prevent interruptions and you both find that time passes by quicker than it does when you have conversations. He yawns, looking at the time to see that it's about 5PM and curses to himself. You had been there for five hours with him with no real break. Sparing a glance at you he sees that you're leaning your head on one hand and chewing a red pen with the other. The image of the pen entering your mouth has his cock showing a slight bit of interest before he shifts in his seat and coughs to get your attention.

"Y/N. It's gettin' late you- I'm plannin' on headin' home, 'less you wanna come wit' me, why don't ya just-"

You wave him away with a flap of your hand. "I'll come with you, just let me finish this one. I'm almost done." You pause and look up. "I- I don't have to come home with you."

He should tell you that you shouldn't come home with him and that if you did he didn't trust himself to not do something stupid but something about the way you sounded so earnest made him stop. He was a grown man, he could stop himself from being stupid with you. He could stop himself from pulling you in for a kiss and taking you to bed. He could resist the urge to do all those things, after all, wasn't he already? "I offered, darlin'. Just hurry up."

It takes you longer than you admit to finish looking over the paper as you keep getting distracted by looking at Elvis off and on. Watching him clean up his office just a bit before you finally finish and he whisks you away to his car a black cadillac that you feel fits him surprisingly well. The car ride is quiet and you both don't dare to look at the other for fear of saying something you might regret later. There's a thought in the back of your mind to make a move- that this would be the perfect time to make a move but you stomp down on that thought, knowing that this isn't right. This can't be the right time, not right after he's come back sick and looking haggard. No, you can wait just a little longer. Especially once you see just how big his house is. Honestly, you'd define it as a mansion if you're being one thousand percent honest but it's his as he casually reminds you as he opens the door for you to exit the car.

"Home sweet home." He pauses. "I have a lot of guests over and- the rooms help for them."

"I wasn't going to ask." You whisper, taking in the sights of everything as you enter the house.

Elvis tells you to get settled in the living room where you find a record player and a sea of records nearby. You know that sometimes Elvis like to incorporate gospel into his classes but these records aren't just gospel. In fact some of them are his records. Your ears hear Elvis's cane even as it's muffled by his carpet in the room and you can't help but ask the first question that comes to mind the longer you stare at the records.

"You used to do music?" You ask innocently enough as you flick through the records, stopping on one whose cover makes you chuckle a little to yourself as you pull it out. The man in front of you and the man on this cover are the same person- you can tell in the eyes but physically they're two very different people and as you glance back at Elvis setting down two Pepsi's and some you find this one is the one you prefer over the one on the cover.

His eyes flick up to you as you fiddle with his record player and place the record on it. He looks down at the floor, a rare show of bashfulness that you find yourself smiling at as he finally speaks. "Aw hell, yeah. Back before everythin', back before I got drafted I did. Stopped- right 'bout '60? Made my manager mad as hell but I couldn't do it no more. Constantly gettin' told I was doin' things wrong, being a bad impression on the youth. I wasn't that old ya know? Wasn't that much older than the youth they wanted to say I was corrupting. Like everythin' I did wasn't t'make sure my mama- god rest her soul- and my daddy and my grandma were taken care of." Elvis pauses when he realizes just what record you put on and he has to hold back the urge to just stare at you. Of all his songs. Now or Never?

He runs his tongue across the front of his mouth and just looks at you before crossing the room in a few short strides. A short exhale leaves your mouth, almost a reverse gasp as you find yourself a bit startled by the way a switch appeared to be flipped with him. You’ve never been the most demure but you find yourself looking down for a moment before you feel his hand underneath your chin. You find that your brain seems to shut down looking at Elvis. There’s something in his eyes as he looks at you, something that you can’t quite put your finger on but it’s heady and has your body shivering just slightly at the intensity of whatever emotion is hidden his blue eyes.

“Can I hear you sing?” You ask before scrunching up your face. In all the times you’ve been talking about class and occasionally about things outside of it, he had never mentioned a music career. This had to be something he didn’t like to talk about and here you were asking him to sing. Even though you want to hear it- you’re starting to- you have been caring about him too much to put him in too much discomfort. Your mouth opens to tell him he doesn’t have to before you hear it as he pulls you closer to him.

His voice is deeper than in the recording, fuller you suppose but it sounds no less beautiful, no less rich and inviting than it does on the recording. The vibrations of the song, of his lungs and of his throat and chest as he sings settle something you didn’t know was giving you a problem. It’s then that you take a chance, a stupid chance you feel like you might regret, of just leaning your head on his chest. He doesn’t push you away and he’s thankful you can’t see him looking at you, can’t see inside his head and realize that he wants to just stroke your hair. He wants to feel you this close to him more often than not, he wants to have you be this gentle and comfortable with him. It’s easy enough to tamp down on the urge though, to tamp down on even telling you this instead choosing to start to sway along with the music. You pick up quickly, swaying back and forth as you listen to him sing, noting that some lines seem to be getting more attention than others.

Maybe you're just imagining it, maybe it's just the natural cadence of the song but you shut your eyes as you sway, allowing yourself to pretend he's saying things like "my soul surrendered" and "I spent a lifetime waiting for the right time" to you. That he's singing those to you while in your bedroom, or maybe in another life while he's on stage, telling everyone that he loves his- girlfriend more than anything. You look up to try and meet his eyes only to realize that he's not looking at you so you sigh remembering it's only a fantasy but one you're willing to indulge in, perhaps one you can make a reality if you just took the plunge, if you just finally admitted to him that you wanted to be with him intimately and more. His heartbeat feels fast but you've never been close enough to listen, close enough to hear how his heart beats a strange percussion just for you. The song is reaching its end you think and you feel Elvis's lips- you think- on top of your head, kissing it softly as he practically whispers a line of "kiss me my darling, be mine tonight" against your hair.

He's asking you, he's begging you he thinks but you don't notice. You don't realize as you hum along as the song ends, his heart threatening to twist at how it feels so goddamn natural to have you like this- to have you in his arms. It's silly, what he does next and he's ready to play it off if you hear him but he places another kiss at the crown of your head and whispers soft as a church mouse "my love won't wait".

You can hear him just barely but your mind knows better, it knows that he can't be meaning that. This is just him trying to charm you like other professors have. Your heart though, your heart beats faster, threatening to escape from your chest after hearing it. Maybe- maybe you're not wrong, maybe you're not wrong when you think this is different. Maybe Elvis actually is different than the others. Still- you're not- you want to be the one to make the first move but not here, not in some place as intimate as his home. It's with a heavy heart that you pull back from him, looking up at him with a smile that you hope doesn't betray how delighted you are to hear what he's said to you.

"We should eat." You whisper, not trusting your voice to go any higher but figuring he can hear you even as the record flips to play some song with the words make me know it in it.

He pulls away fully from you and moves to sit down where he set the food and nods. "Course. Then we'll get back t'work."

As it turns out you only get about three more hours of work in before you hear him snoring lightly next to you in his lounge clothes. You don't know when he fell asleep but you see how his body is contorted into something that you figure is him trying to get comfortable and realize that maybe he might feel more comfortable sleeping in his own bed. Shaking him awake isn't the easiest thing but after about a minute he looks at you blearily, his eyes blinking to try and focus on you.

"Come on, big boy, to bed with you." You try and wiggle yourself under his arm, forcing him off the couch a little before he grumbles something and moves into a proper sitting position. He's still not standing up but it's progress, especially when he follows suit as you stand up from the couch, leaning just a bit on you as he tries to get his legs to work to move in the way you need him to.

Elvis is surprisingly easy to maneuver for someone who you'd think once he starts to doze off would practically be dead weight, but you still find that he leans on you a little more than you'd like, than you feel you can handle in the moment. Not for the first time tonight you find yourself looking at his face, seeing the little wrinkles by his eyes, seeing the stubble growing on his chin and realizing he looks exhausted and just at least mildly like he's seen better days. You feel your heart twist at the knowledge that even with you coming here tonight, he's likely in for less rest than you think he needs in the coming weeks trying to catch up. A part of you is thankful that Elvis had changed into his lounging clothes when the two of you had gotten to his house, after all if he hadn't have you might have had to help him change in his state right now and- you truly don't trust that you would have been able to keep your touches helpful and chaste.

As it stands you get him to the bed after pulling down the sheets and lightly push him to give him the hint to lay down. In a moment of clarity, he looks at you as if to voice his displeasure at the idea before he frowns and doesn't argue. Once he's settled himself in with your assistance when he gets his legs tangled in the sheet a little you pull the sheets up, almost tucking him in before placing a soft kiss upon his forehead. You're about to pull away before you feel his hand moving to grab your wrist and hear his sleep addled voice speaking.

"Stay 'ere, Belle. Stay wit'me."

You freeze, unable to move between his grip on your wrist and the shock of what he said just now coursing through your veins and bouncing in your brain. This has got to be a dream, you both fell asleep on the couch and you're dreaming. This is not real. His grip loosens as his eyes flutter shut and his head lolls to the side. You manage to pull away but not before you place yet another kiss to his forehead and walk over to the bedroom door. The words that leave your mouth are barely audible but you know what you say. "Not tonight, Elvis. Not tonight, my Big Daddy. Maybe another night."

The walk back to the couch is lonely and a bit cold if you're being honest, despite the heat in the house. Elvis's jacket is sitting on the couch in plain view of you as you hug your own jacket closer to you. Your eyes drift to the plates that you had left on the table before you head to clean them, setting them where they need to go. A thought crosses your mind to head home but you realize you don't have your car and you're not about to try and drive his home. The couch isn't an ideal place to sleep but you figure it'll do for tonight, at least until Elvis wakes up. There's no blankets around but there is his jacket and you allow yourself to cover yourself with it, inhaling the unique scent of cigars and old spice and everything else that makes up Elvis. The warmth of the jacket has your eyes falling shut quicker than you think is possible.

It's warm when you wake up, warm enough that you take more time than is perhaps necessary to actually open your eyes and register your surroundings. You shift just a little only to realize that where you are at the present moment and where you fell asleep are two completely different places. You had been on the couch alone covered in a mix of your jacket and Elvis's, inhaling the unique musk that was him. It made you feel as if you had taken him up on his offer and joined him in bed, his arms enveloping you and keeping you warm despite the slight chill in the house. You still can smell that unique musk and you can still feel the warmth that accompanied it but your eyes flit down to your waist where even in the dim early morning light you can see the outline of Elvis's arm, you can feel his arm wrapped around you pulling you close. You shift again, trying to see if there's any give to his arm only to have him tighten it as his head moves down to the back of your neck and nuzzles, growling ever so softly.

"Too early, darlin'. Stayin' right 'ere." He mumbles against your neck, placing soft kiss there. "No early bird this mornin'"

You can feel his arousal against your backside and you tamp down on the urge to grind against it, knowing that as much as you want to that's not what- you can't do that when he's still asleep like this. Still, a sigh erupts from your mouth as you feel him shift causing it to thrust up against you just a bit. How had you even gotten in here, last thing you had remembered was being on the couch. Had you walked back here in your sleep? Had you been craving his warmth and his embrace so much that you had done something as silly as this in your sleep? No, you- maybe you had. You needed to leave- you could stay here not for him to see you when you woke up. He had gone to bed alone even if he might not have fully realized it so he needed to wake up alone just the same. If he didn't maybe he'd- no Elvis wouldn't hurt you. He was different but you didn't want to risk the anger, risk seeing his face contort into something you didn't recognize because you let yourself be greedy before you had properly planned. You needed to talk to him before something like this happened. Every card needed to be on the table before you allowed yourself this guilty pleasure of waking up in his arms enveloped by a heat and what feels like maybe the first smatterings of an honest love.

It takes you twenty minutes to detangle yourself from Elvis's arms as you struggle not to wake him and as his arms tighten around you every time you so much as think of moving but you finally manage to grab a pillow that you use to replace your body slowly but surely as you move out of his grasp.

A pillow is a poor substitute for you, and you’re aware of it, knowing fully well that at best it’ll buy you maybe ten or twenty minutes before he’ll wake up and realize you’re not there. Even now you can hear him mumbling your name in his sleep interspersed with Belle, it makes your heart jump into your throat, seeing him clutch the pillow as if it’s the only thing allowing him happiness. He’s- even if he’s meaning you he doesn’t know you probably crawled in here after having a hard time falling asleep or that you slept walked into there. He wouldn’t have reacted well to seeing you in the bed with him, let alone as curled up together as you were. Even as he clutches the pillow he looks so happy, the smile playing on his face as he holds the pillow close. You knew you were doing the right thing, knew that if you didn’t he might regret letting you come to his house and everything up to this moment would be for naught and truthfully you’re not entirely sure your heart would be able to take the rejection that you figure would come when he awoke.

The overwhelming desire to stay there, to crawl back into bed with him chokes you the longer you look at him, look at the empty space beside him before you remind yourself why you’re leaving. Elvis won’t- he won’t do anything to you, you don’t think and yet. You allow yourself the pleasure of placing your hand in his hair, running it through the strands and hearing a relaxed sigh leave his mouth as any tension he had in his shoulders leave them. Before you go you place a kiss to his forehead, mirroring what you had done earlier that night and without much noise you sneak out of his bedroom, grabbing your jacket on the couch before you sneak out the front door as well.

Elvis wakes up about an hour later, his brain not catching on immediately to the fact that you had become a pillow, allowing himself to grind against it for a moment before his eyes shoot open and realize you’re gone. His brain blanks on anything but this one thought.

“Now you’ve gone and left me alone too?”

taglist: @elvisgirl35, @butlersluvbot, @lokis-right-femurr, @godlypresley, @steph-speaks, @lindszeppelin, @eliseinmemphis, @thatbanditqueen, @venus-haze, @lrd98, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy

#elvis presley x reader #elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley angst #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley smut #elvis x you #elvis presley x y/n #professor presley #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis x you #austin elvis #austin elvis x y/n #ally writes

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kanene-yaaay · 6 months

Text

The Time

Heya heyaaa

Oof, thing feel really serious when I put a title javagcwwuvwdodj but! It's a proper moment to use a title here, I think. After all, I came to say goodbye.

Yeah, who would think ahfwtwcev

I have been thinking and pondering about this for some months now, since June when That Stuff happened and I had to jump away from here and uhhh it feels corny to say that but a lot of things changed to me and I changed a lot together with everything too.

So, I think it's my time to let this blog go. Not because I feel bad about it now or anything but... I am no longer that attached to tickling to maintain it. It's still cute, playful and comforting, but it is now a part of a lot of other things that are just as cute, playful and comforting to me.

This blog had a good run and I'm incredibly grateful because of it. Six entire years, if I am not mistaken, and I won't delete it anytime soon so the numbers will keep going! For as long as it wants or it is allowed to. All my fics, my headcanons, my rambles and reblogs will stay here because I don't want nor have the heart to delete it. There are such amazing, wonderful and well created arts and stories in this community that deserve all the attention and all the screams.

And! Talking about that! The people! I would like to say the biggest and most heartful thank you that you could ever imagine. Full of big hugs and smiles. I've met awesome people here that I will forever hold dear in my heart. Thank you for the company and the fun and for being so lovely and inspiring to me, all of you. It doesn't matter if we talked for years or minutes, thank you very much. It was so cool! @oliviaischillin1204, @august-anon, @flames-tstuff, @soft--valentine, @honeydew-sillies, @carrie-tate, @trashyswitch, @rosileeduckie, @squeaky-n-blushy, @why-not-a-tickle-blog, @thetickleeraven, @a-fluffer-nutter, @fluffyskies, @just-open-the-fridge-yo, @fluffystuffies, @ijustliketickling, @veryblushyswitch also everyone that is no longer in the community. If you see this, I remember you! Big hug!

And thank you so much for all of you that supported my blog and my work in any and every way. Commenting, reblogging, liking, sending askys about it... It really meant (and means!) a whole lot to me and Def is one of the reasons that kept me creating for so so long and so so much. It was the reason I stopped feeling so self conscious about my English and helped me to try new things and scenarios. Please accept this cookie as a token of my appreciation 🍪 I love to see all of your rambles or just your icon appearing on my notifs.

Also, how could I ever forget the artists and writers that make this community such a fun and colorful space? All the thanks and all the screams and rambles to all of you. Creating is so hard and yet you just come here and do such a wonderful job! How dare! I still think about your creations in my daily life, believe me ahcwgwxwhwcwfcw @ticklepinions, @intheticklecloset, @jettorii, @ssnicker-doodles, @giggly-squiggily, @simplysmilingdrew, @tiklart, @otomiyaa, @verynickelpizzarascal, @fbpanimations and much much more, tbh all the beans that I got shy to tag kjhgfdefghj

Hmmm, I think that this is what I wanted to say. To be honest, writing fics w tickling in it still feels comfortable and cool, so I will probably appear from one year or other to post something and vanish again ahfwtwxwowyq but yeah, can't really say that there will be much interaction besides that. I had that Big Post full of arts and fics that I love that I wanted to post before going but no energy dfghjhgf maybe one day I will finish it and post oh well

Anyway. One of the things that I always tried to bring here was that every creator should have at least one nice comment soooo if ! You think about me or this blog! Consider giving a comment or a quick rb to some artist/creator/blog that you really like, bet it will bring a smile to the bean's face! :D

Okay, okay, enough of rambling. It was incredible. Thank you! Hope you have a lovely week and don't forget to be kind, take care and drink water. Byee <3 <3

#See ya beans <3 #BIg hugs and spinning hugs all around #Kanene being Kanene #More than 3000 posts gosh that is crazyyy

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gunilslaugh · 1 year

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I love your 5+1 fic! It was so cute 🥰

Can I request an enemies to lovers with gunil? something like gunil doesn't like y/n because of a miscommunication/rumour but as he gets to know y/n more as junhan's friend, he realizes the miscommunication/rumour is not true and he starts to like y/n little by little

Have a nice day! 💖

Omg thank you so much! 💕 Honestly I was really hesitant about posting the 5+1 fic because I didn't think I wrote it well, but it's received a lot of support, so I'm very thankful for everyone who has read it and left likes/reblogged it. Anyway way thank you for requesting I hope I did your request to your liking. 😊

Koo Gunil

Trope:Enemies to Lovers (specifically enemies to friends to lovers)

Summary:In which Gunil realizes that his sole reason for hating you isn’t actually valid and the shift in his feelings afterward.

WC: 2.5k

Warning:grammar, one cuss word

Image not mine credits to owner.

You worked at a musical instrument shop in seoul. It was a small little store tucked up alongside a somewhat narrow street. You enjoyed working there and although you didn’t know much about actually playing them you knew quite a lot about the craftsmanship that went into making them. How the different use of materials affect how the instruments play and sound.

Your best friend Hyeonjun loved that you worked here. He would frequently show up to “test out” the guitars. His other members would visit the store too, either along with Hyeongjun or by themselves. You liked his members, and got along well with them for the most part. The other part being Gunil. The two of you disliked each other and it was obviously by the sly little comments you'd always direct at the other. The avoidance of even merely standing next to one another.

Now why did this petty war of hatred come about? Well it was all Gunil’s fault. You were nothing but nice to him, well until that day. You even remember the date, only because it also happened to be your nephew’s birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a rare occurrence, all the members had happened to visit you that day. It was near closing time, so you were going around preparing to close up shop. Your phone rang with your nephew’s name lighting up the screen. You were still on working hours so answering would have been deemed as unprofessional, plus it was only fifthteen minutes till closing certainly the kid could wait.

“Y/n could I play the drums? I’m gonna steal Gunil’s position” Jiseok said as we walked over to the drum set.

“Sure, let me grab you some sticks” you walked over to where you kept the drum sticks, grabbing a set. Your phone rang for a second time, again you ignored it. While walking back over to Jiseok your phone would not stop ringing.

“Just answer it,” he said, taking the drum sticks from your hand. “It’s not like we're gonna report you for being a bad employee”

“Thanks” you said before answering the phone and bringing it to your ear. Upon answering your nephew immediately started rambling about how he felt too scared about hitting the pinata tomorrow for his birthday party. “It’s not hard, you just hit it with a stick” you told your nephew trying to calm his nerves. Hearing a scoff you look up and see Gunil glaring at you. That was it that was the start of your enemies arc. You did nothing to him, yet he glared harshly at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hearing the door chime you glance towards the door seeing Hyeongjun, Jiseok, and Jooyeon stroll in.

“What brings you fellows here?”

“I need new strings and these two are avoiding practice” Hyeongjun stated gesturing to the boys standing next to him.

“Not true, I need more picks,” Jiseok said

“I’m pretty sure you have at least ten in your pockets right now,” you rebutled.

“But none of the are yellow,” he walks over to the jar in the counter that says “free picks” fishing for the yellow ones

“What kind of strings?” you asked Hyeongjun. He responded, you nodded making your way to the back room where inventory was. You returned with the strings walking behind the counter to ring them up. “Anything else?”

“What time does your shift end?” Jooyeon questioned

“5:30pm why?”

“Wanna grab dinner with us?”

“Us meaning?” You inquired having no intentions of wanting to see Gunil that day.

“The four of us here, no Gunil.” Jooyeon clarifies with a sigh at the end.

“Sounds good” you replied after putting Hyeongjun’s strings in a bag. He hands you the money, you then hand him the bag.

“So Gunil sounds bad?” Jiseok pesters you. You sigh giving him a getty unamused face

“Shouldn't you guys be heading back to practice now?”

“Tell us why you hate him first?”

“He started it.”

“How?”

“He glared at me for no reason and was always giving me the cold shoulder, so I simply return his actions,”

“You’re literally just being petty!” Jooyeon laughs out.

“Have you ever asked him why he glared at you?” Hyeongjun asks

“No, it's not like he talks to me long enough to ask anyway”

“Have you ever actually tired though?”

“......no, but that’s not the point you guys need to get back to practice. Now leave,” you said walking around the counter to push them towards the door.

“We’ll pick you up after your shift!” Jooyeon shouts over his shoulder as you shut the door behind them.

The boys had returned from their trip to the shop and resumed practice as a whole group. After monitoring the recording of the song they were currently working on. They decided it was a good time to wrap practice for the day.

“Anyone wanna grab dinner together?” Gunil asks the group.

“Can’t Hyeongjun, Jiseok and I have plans with y/n” Jooyeon replies. Hyeongjun notices the shift in Gunil’s mood at the mere mention of your name.

“Seriously, why do you dislike her so much? She’s my best friend.” Irritation notable in Hyeongjun’s voice.

“I’m curious about that too,” Seungmin approaches “It seems like you just out of the blue started hating her,”

“It was not out of the blue,” Gunil defends. The other members had now all gathered around at this point, wanting to know the reason behind the negative feelings.

“Well?” Hyeongjun pushes.

“She insulted my craft,”

“Y/n wouldn’t do that,” Hyeongjun immediately speaks on your behalf.

“Yes she did. That time we were all at the store, it was close to closing and Jiseok asked to play the drums, saying he was gonna steal my position. She went and grabbed sticks for him. Shortly after handing the sticks to him she said “It’s not hard, you just hit it with a stick,”” he explained, making air quotes around the words that caused this whole mess.

“Dude she was talking to someone on the phone then,” Jiseok started. “It kept ringing, so I told her to just answer it. I don’t know who she was talking to, but I’m pretty sure that sentence wasn’t about playing drums.” he finished explaining.

“What?!” Gunil’s eyes widened at the information Jiseok just delivered. Hyeongjun now recalling that day steps in.

“She was talking to her nephew about a pinata. It was his birthday that day and his parents had gotten him a pinata for his party, but he got nervous about it. He called y/n about it and she said that to calm him down,” Hyeongjun explained.

“So i've been hating her over insulting something she didn't actually insult,” he sighs feeling like a complete moron.

“You should apologize to her,” Hyeongjun insists.

“How?”

“We’re grabbing dinner with her so do it now,” Jooyeon piped up

“So suddenly?”

“No time like the present. Look, we'll just make it a whole group dinner. We’re picking her up after her shift anyway. You guys can talk it out before then meet us at dinner,” Jooyeon stated like it was obvious. “Now let's go!” he enthusiastically said, pushing their leader out the door.

You had just finished locking the door to the shop when you heard familiar voices approaching. Looking up you see the members, all of them.

“Jooyeon this is not what you said,” an annoyed look coming over your face.

“I know, I know, but that was before a groundbreaking discovery was made,” confused you looked over to Hyeongjun, wanting an explanation. He came up to you grabbing both of your hands in his.

“He’s right. Gunil has something he needs to tell you-”

“What if I don’t want-”

“Stop being childish” he cuts you off. “It’s time you two talk things out,” You let out a sigh at his words. You know he’s right, but there is some stupid pride you don't want to let go of.

“Fine,” you said bitterly.

“Good, the both of you talk, then meet us at dinner,” Smiled before walking back towards his members. They begin to walk off leaving you and Gunil alone. That atmosphere became awkward, both staring at your shoes in silence.

“..so Hyeongjun said you have something to tell me,”

“Yeah uh- I just” he paused, taking a breath. “....I’m sorry,”

“What! You? Sorry?” Not believing the words you just heard. “Why?”

“I misunderstood you,”

“About what?”

“Playing the drums. That day Jiseok talked about stealing my position. You handed him the sticks then said “It’s not hard, you just hit it with a stick,” I thought you were talking to Jiseok about playing the drums,” he explained. Now you understand. He hated you cause he thought you insulted the art of playing the drums.

“But I wasn’t talking about playing the drums I was talking about”

“A pinata” he finished your sentence. “I know that now, which is why I’m apologizing,”

“I’m sorry too,” you said.

“Huh?” he looked at you slightly confused.

“I was mean to you too, without any good reason at that. I was just being petty and childish, so I’m sorry,” you let out a light laugh. “We’re both idiots,”

“Yeah we are, so we’re cool now?”

“Yeah we’re cool,”

“This is the part where you guys hug!” You hear Jooyeon’s voice shout from a distance. Both you and Gunil look around spotting the members coming out from where they were hiding just around the corner. Breaking out into laughter at their antics, but nonetheless opening your arms for a hug. Gunil mirrors your actions as you guys share your first hug. Then you all proceeded to go to dinner, Gunil and you even opting to sit next to each other at the restaurant.

Your relationship with Gunil changed massively after the miscommunication was resolved. Your title of enemies was changed to friends. Now, depending on if your shift hours allowed, you’d find yourself visiting their practice room. Something you never really did before due to your pettiness of not wanting to be in the same room as Gunil.

Waiting on the floor of the practice room for them to finish up. Hyeongjun and you planned on catching a new movie you guys wanted to see after their practice today. Your eyes gravitated towards Gunil landing on his arms as he rhythmically hit the drum set. His arms were strong that was clear to see, but when he hugged they were very gentle as if- wait why are you thinking about that? It was months ago. Why are you thinking about it now? You shift your attention to Hyeongjun as he plays his solo part uttering a quiet “Go bestie!” as to not disturb their practice.

They had finally finished up for the day. You and Hyeongjun said goodbye to the other members then leaving to go catch the movie.

“You were staring at Gunil earlier,”

“I was staring at you too,” you refuted, but a blush was creeping its way up your neck at the news of being caught. “What? I can’t stare at someone playing an instrument?”

“You can it was just odd since you use to avoid him so insistently,”

“That was quite some time ago, heck he even visits me in the store without you now.”

“He does?” This being new information to him.

“You didn’t know? Yeah he usually comes at least once a week and he tries to walk me home on days my shift ends late,” you told Hyeongjun with an unknown smile on your face, but he saw it.

“He never mentioned anything about it,” You two had arrived at the theater so your conversation ended there, but Hyeongjun was definitely gonna investigate Gunil about this later.

That later arrived when Hyeongjun came back to the dorm that night.

“Gunil! I need to talk to you,” he called out after setting his stuff down in his room.

“What’s up?” Gunil asked.

“You visit y/n once a week and walk her home when it’s late?” The investigation has begun.

“Well yes why? Is it a problem? Did I make her uncomfortable?” Gunil starts to ramble.

“No you didn’t. It’s just I don’t even always visit her once a week and maybe I’m a bad friend, but I’ve never walked her home when it was late either. I just tell her to text me,” Gunil wasn’t sure how to respond. His feelings for you had truly shifted maybe even farther than he had realized. In the beginning he never even thought about you walking home at night alone, but now on those nights he could only worry about something happening to you. He looks forward to his weekly visits to you. This usually ended up being his favorite time of day. Your name that used to single handedly annoy him now made him feel warm. Perhaps his once hatred had now grown into love. Holy shit that was it he loved you.

“I love her,” he muttered out in realization.

“What did you say? I couldn’t hear you,”

“I love her,” he stated more confidently.

“You love my best friend! I guess there really is a fine line between love and hate isn’t there? What are you gonna do?”

“Do you think she likes me back? You know her the best,”

“It’s possible. I’ve noticed some things lately,”

“Really like what?”

“Y/n will kill me if I tell you. Just talk to her yourself. I think you’ll have a decent chance,”

The next day Gunil worked up the courage to confess to you after your shift. He waited for you outside, the same place where you guys made up.

“Oh Gunil, what brings you here?” You see him upon exiting the store.

“I have something to tell you,”

“That sounds vaguely familiar,” you half joked.

“Yeah it does,” he chuckled and paused before continuing “After we shifted from enemies to friends my heart did stop. It shifted even farther. I love you way more than a friend.” he confessed. His words caused you to realize that your feelings had shifted beyond friends as well.

“So shall we change our title to lovers now then?” He stared at you eyes wide with a smile appearing on his face.

“You mean?”

“I love you too,” you confessed too.

“This is the part where you guys kiss!” Once again an all too familiar voice shouted from the distance and not soon after the member came out from behind the corner. Shyness consuming you at the thought of the members seeing you guys kiss. Noticing this Gunil turns you so you’re blocked by his strong build.

“Is this ok? Can I kiss you?” He asked looking in your eyes for reassurance.

“Yes, it’s ok,” you nodded. He leaned in sealing your lips together and sealing your title as lovers.

“You hurt her, I kill you” Hyeongjun says at Gunil once you walked to meet the members. Which makes everyone laugh. “Hey! I’m being serious!”

#xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdh #xdinary heroes #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #gunil #xh gunil #gunil x reader

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scummy-writes · 2 months

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🧸 🥑 🐝 and 🌸?

- 🏯 anon

Ohhh, I havent had a '[blank] anon' in a while! Thank u!

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

I think that depends on how you define 'mutual'. The cold cut standard definition is two blogs following each other, but to be blunt I don't follow many blogs. With my current main account, I follow...200 people? And I would say only 20% is ikefandom, and 70% of the other blogs are inactive or barely post.

I have a lot of people i am close to or friends with, but we don't follow each other. I still call em mutuals though since 'mutual' seems to be interchangeable with 'friend' now.

Anyway, fastest way- unsure! Just start chattin with me and see if we hit it off. I tend not to follow a lot of people because I genuinely cannot tell if people want me interacting with them, or because they reblog a lot from people I am not fond of.

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

@crystal13unny HAHA she has Connections.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

This may be a bit of a cop-out answer, but I have a Lot of people that I think support me. There are usernames back from my mysme days that will randomly show up in my notes again and say something nice to me, there are folks who will leave lengthy comments to let me know they enjoyed what I wrote, there are people I chat with who I can pitch an idea to and they'll support it, theres the random kind anons, everyone who reblogs and likes my fanfics, etc... it just goes on and on, to where I'd at least wanna tag 20 people, and its. 2am right now.

I consider folks like that to be my biggest supporters, and longterm friends who enjoy supporting me as well. I am very thankful towards yall!!!!

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Vic :)

#scum talks #its 2am i am a Lil tired i am sorry for the rambles

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karamazovposting · 3 months

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I just read the tags on the reblogs of my last post (never be afraid of rambling in my reblogs, I like reading other people's takes) and I want to thank you all so much for reading and chiming in with your own comments. I feel like a True Ivan Karamazov Understander now!

Jokes aside, it's nice to see I'm not the only one who saw that certain bipolar something in Ivan. Actually, all of you mentioned things I'm writing about in part two, in particular his relationship with alcohol and the comparison with Dmitri.

I don't really know how I feel about Dmitri when it comes to this topic so I won't include much of him in that essay but I want to say that I love him a lot and I found myself relating to him here and there, but I'm not sure if it's a disorder thing or not. I guess I'll figure it out.

Anyway, I'm not opposed to that interpretation of Dmitri's character, as bipolar disorder can be genetic (many things about this disorder are still unknown to this day and the exact cause of it is no exception, there are multiple factors involved but there doesn't seem to be a specific pattern, but I won't bore you with the technicalities now because I'll include them in the upcoming parts of my essay) and there are as many shades of bipolar disorder as there are people who have it. Everyone's different and therefore everyone's bipolar experience is different. I just wasn't as struck by him as much as I was by Ivan (I swear it was almost uncanny).

I'll end this by saying I had no idea Ivan not being very interesting was an unpopular opinion (but I'm glad it is lmao), I never see many posts about him and I've always thought of Mitya and Alyosha as the popular ones due to their (deserved, of course) certified babygirl status.

#mine

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

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wreck my plans - chapter two

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,241

Notes: All my love to @ezrasbirdie for continuing to beta read this series and for her enthusiasm for this chapter when she read it over ❤️ Also a huge thank you to everyone who left such kind feedback on chapter one. I’ve got most of the plot mapped out and I’m excited for you all to see where this goes!

Comments/reblogs appreciated!

Chapter warnings: Swearing, fated lovers, divorced main characters, therapy, yearning, a couple of horny adults

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (marcus pike)

SEPTEMBER

It’s a hot day. Summer is clinging on to the very end this year with its last gasps being prolonged. You don’t mind. Having a functional air conditioner for the first time in years is keeping you cool. Kevin had refused to fix the air conditioner at your shared house and had balked at the idea of calling a repairman.

The washing machine has you mesmerized. It’s the night before you’re supposed to go to Marcus’s first figure drawing class and you have no idea what you want to wear. He’d said comfy clothes, but that’s so vague, you’re not too sure what he entirely meant. You’d needed to do laundry anyway, and this way you’d have options.

Marcus seems nice. Handsome, too. You don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long since you’d noticed someone, but there’s a pull there. You could feel it when you met up with him to discuss the job. It’s silly, you know, but it’s been so long since someone had actually looked at you and seen you.

You’re so lost in thought, you hardly hear Charlotte come in. “How many loads is this?” she asks, plopping down on the floor next to you.

“Huh? Oh, three, I think. I had a lot to do,” you say, returning your attention to the washing machine with a yawn.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” your sister asks you after a minute of silence.

You shrug. “I guess. Dr. Ridley said it was good to get out and do something for myself.” You’ve been seeing your new therapist since March and you really like her. You think she might be the best therapist you’d ever been to.

“And she’s right,” Charlotte affirms. “When was the last thing you did something for yourself on this scale?”

Again, you shrug. “I don’t know. A while. You know how Ke – how he – felt about that sort of thing.”

Charlotte grumbles. She really doesn’t like your ex-husband, she hadn’t when you were married to him either. You think she may have been the happiest after you when you announced you were finally filing for divorce. “Well, he doesn’t count. You’re getting paid really good money to basically just stand there and look at the eye candy while people draw you.” At your look of slight incredulity she continues, “What? Ellie’s sister is in that class and she says Professor Dameron? More like Professor Damn-eron.”

You bark out a startled laugh. Ellie’s sister isn’t wrong; you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought the same thing. “There’s just one thing,” you say, chewing the inside of your lip.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know what to wear. Marcus just said to wear something comfy for the first couple of sessions.”

Charlotte nods, remembering her own experience in the class. “Well, last year when I took it, it wasn’t someone as gorgeous as you. But she basically wore, like, jeans and t-shirts.” You whine, thinking about wearing jeans on an 84-degree day. “But it’s really up to the model. You could show up wearing that for all you like. It’s not a fashion show, it’s more, like, the students getting used to drawing different textures and shit.” She looks at you, wearing a cropped top and cutoff denim shorts. “You could wear something like that if you want to,” she suggests.

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Char. I wanna make a good first impression, you know?”

Your sister understands. “I get it. But just a piece of advice? Don’t overthink this. Just… I don’t know, go with it. What would Dr. Ridley say?”

You know exactly what Dr. Ridley would say. Let this thing happen as it does. “Okay. I was thinking maybe a dress? You know the sundress I got last week when we went thrift-shopping?”

Charlotte’s eyes light up. “Oooh yes, perfect!”

You yawn again. “Thank God Cassidy was able to cover tomorrow morning’s opening shift.” You’d asked to switch with the other morning manager so that you could have a chance to sleep in and give yourself plenty of time to get ready after your bi-weekly morning appointment with Dr. Ridley.

When the laundry is finally finished at eleven forty-five, Charlotte helps you fold it all carefully. “Hey, if I don’t see you before the class tomorrow, good luck. Not that you need it. I think this is really great that you’re doing this,” says Charlotte, setting the laundry basket down on the floor outside your bedroom door.

“Thanks, kid,” you reply. Toeing the laundry basket into your room, you quickly put it all away before curling into bed and falling right to sleep.

- - - -

Marcus isn’t sure why he’s disappointed that you’re not at the cafe the next morning, but he feels the pang of disappointment all the same. He tries not to question it; he’s seeing you later today for Christ’s sake. But still, the barista, a university student he thinks, doesn’t make his order the same way you had done a few weeks ago.

Today’s the first day that you’re going to be sitting in his figure drawing class. He wonders how you’re feeling about all of it. Nervous? Excited?

It’s a talented bunch of kids that he’s undercover-teaching. At first, he’d been nervous that he wouldn’t be a good teacher, that Megan had been right. But after a while on the first day, he’d gotten into the swing of things. And he finds he’s quite enjoying it as well. If this weren’t an undercover thing, he’d say maybe he should switch careers.

He’s so glad that he found you as his model. It’s odd; he’s just met you and he already feels a connection. A connection that he can’t explain. He’s only met you a handful of times but he likes you. If he didn’t have an undercover operation to maintain, he’d maybe ask you out for a meal. Get to know you better. But he has the integrity of the case to maintain. And if anything got out, the entire sting operation would be up in smoke before he could make any headway on it.

He takes his less-than-perfect coffee and heads out to Dr. Ridley’s office. He’s not allowed to say much about this case, not wanting anything to get out before the Bureau is ready to release a statement, in addition to the confidentiality that comes with being an FBI agent. He does, however, mention that his new case requires him to be undercover as an art instructor. Dr. Ridley isn’t surprised that he’s doing better at it than he originally expected. “Marcus, the only person who thought you couldn’t do it was someone who was manipulating you into doing something they wanted you to do. Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she tells him. “This is very good, these improvements you're making with yourself.” This makes Marcus feel better.

Before he realizes it, it’s time for him to get ready for the class. Usually he shows up about ten minutes before the class starts, wanting to make sure that everything is set up the way he likes it. When he arrives at the studio, you’re standing outside the door, waiting.

And oh, god, you’re wearing a dress. “Hello,” he says, attempting to swallow his nerves.

You look up from your phone, putting it in the pocket of your dress. “Hi, Professor Dameron,” you reply.

“Marcus, please,” he reminds you and you repeat his name. “You found the classroom okay?” Marcus asks you, unlocking the door, letting you go in first. As the door shuts, he flicks on the lights.

“Yeah. My sister Charlotte took this class last year and she gave me directions.” There’s a sea of desks and chairs facing a platform that you’ll presumably be standing on. You gulp. “H-how many people are in the class?” You try to make your voice sound casual.

“Maybe fifty? I’d have to double check,” Marcus says, noticing your trepidation. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re not jumping into the deep end just yet. The first couple of weeks are a warmup. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, no big deal.” Secretly, he’s unsure if he’d prefer it if it didn’t work out so then he would feel less weird about wanting to ask you out. He shakes the thought away. Get it together, Pike.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Just stage fright, I guess.” Looking at the stage, you gesture to it and say, “Is that where you want me to…?”

Marcus nods. “Yeah. I know there is a desk there, too. But I’m the type that walks around, observing. So it’ll just be you.” He notices the blip of panic in your eyes that quickly dissipates. “You, uh, can put your bag and other things under the desk.”

Students are beginning to filter in as you place your phone in your mini-backpack before stuffing it beneath the desk. Marcus notices the pins on it as you slide it off your shoulders. “Mandalorian fan, huh?” he asks, pointing to the Grogu pin.

“What? Oh, yeah.” You’re still a bit flustered but Marcus has managed to calm your nerves. He stands next to the desk, pulling out a pair of glasses from his bag.

“I apologize for how nerdy I’m about to look,” Marcus says to you in an undertone, pushing the square-framed glasses on his face. “But my eyes were really sore this morning and I just really fucking hate putting contacts in on days like that.” And oh my god, he looks the last thing from a nerd. You need to catch your breath.

You look away so you don’t get re-flustered right before the class starts. The class is mostly female, with some male students as well. You’d say it’s a seventy-five/twenty-five ratio if you had to guess. You spot Ellie’s sister, Tessa, sitting near the front with a gaggle of girls you vaguely recognize.

“Good afternoon everyone,” Marcus begins as he calls the class to attention five minutes past the hour. “As you all know, this week we are beginning our semester-long project of figure-drawing. As discussed in the first class, your grade will largely be based on how you improve over the course of the next three months.” He gestures to you. “This is going to be your model for the semester.” Giving your name, he continues sternly. “I only want to stress this once, we are all adults in this room and she has thankfully accepted this position, so please treat her with the same respect and dignity you would treat me or anyone else in this room. Am I clear?” The class murmurs their assent.

You can’t help it. You’re flustered now for a different reason. Seeing someone be so authoritative like that has always done something for you. You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself calm, but you’re not sure how well you manage. You’re glad that his attention is on the class and the class’s attention is largely on him. Still, you manage to catch Tessa’s eye unintentionally and she winks discreetly, knowingly, smirking as she returns her attention to Marcus. Finally managing to school your features as Marcus directs his attention back to you, he says, “I want you to stand as you are. We’ll break in about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes.”

Waiting until the class has their sketchpads and charcoal pencils at the ready, you adjust your position ever so slightly and stand at the ready. You’re going to be standing for a long time; you’re glad that your sandals are supportive.

The only sound in the room is that of pencil on paper; every so often Marcus’s shoes will squeak as he takes a turn around the class.

Marcus is mesmerized by you, your look of slight defiance and determination. It stirs something, rekindles something that he thought long gone: inspiration.

- - - -

“I started drawing again,” Marcus says to Dr. Ridley two weeks later.

She looks up from her notes. “That’s wonderful, Marcus,” she says. “You’ve been saying for so long that you thought your inspiration was long gone. What brought it back?” she asks.

Marcus hesitates. He can’t tell her that much about the case still. “You know that part of my undercover work entails teaching a figure drawing class.” Dr. Ridley nods. “So, the inspiration is partially to do with teaching, but mostly to do with the model.” At Dr. Ridley’s look of alarm and confusion, he hastens to add, “No, no, no. Nothing like that. Fuck, no. Not anything like that. She isn’t a student. She doesn’t even go to school there, she was just looking for a job. She’s closer to me in age than she is to the students.”

The dots connect in Dr. Ridley’s head as she remembers another client of hers talking about doing a modeling job for a university class. She doesn’t say anything. “And tell me about this woman. What about her inspired you to pick up the pencil again so to speak?”

Marcus opens his mouth and shuts it several times in succession. “There’s a connection,” he finally says. “It feels like we know each other, even though we just met for the first time just under a month ago.” He knows how it sounds; he doesn’t want to dive in this quickly. Not to mention, he can’t.

“And does she feel the same way?” asks Dr. Ridley.

Again Marcus hesitates. How can he know that? “I’m not sure. She seems to like me.” Last week you had genuinely laughed at a bad joke he’d made before the class began. You’re always eager to start a conversation, and you haven’t been scared off yet, not by the class or, more importantly, by him.

The class has moved, with varying results, from fully clothed figure drawing to figure drawing in undergarments. Today is the first day that you’ll be standing up there in nothing more than a bra and panties. You’d taken it in stride when he told you at the end of last week’s class. You’ve settled into the gig pretty easily. He sometimes sees you in the morning at the cafe if the paperwork and ordering was all caught up.

(More often than not, you took a break from paperwork and ordering when he came in so you could see him; it helps that he always comes in at about the same time. You feel like a high schooler with her first crush all over again. At least Marcus is better than Oliver ended up being.)

“It doesn’t matter, though. I can’t ask her out,” Marcus ends up saying.

Dr. Ridley frowns. “If this has to do with your previous relationships –”

“It doesn’t. It’s just… This case is so secretive and I can’t risk the integrity of it.” He sounds like a broken record, but it’s the truth, it has to be. As much as he likes you and enjoys the easy friendship you’ve started, it has to stay there for the sake of the case. Even if he wants to take you for breakfast and have you try the best pancakes he’s ever had. He doesn’t even know if you like pancakes but he still wants to share them with you.

“That may be,” Dr. Ridley says. “But that doesn’t mean at the end of the semester, or once you’ve cracked the case, you can’t…”

He’s considered it. It’s only been a month, but he’s never had a connection like this with anyone else. “After admitting that I’ve lied to her the entire time about who I really am?” he asks ruefully.

“If the connection is there like you say it is, isn’t that worth the risk?” asks Dr. Ridley.

That evening, you’re running late. “Christ,” you pant as you run to the door just as Marcus is unlocking the door. “I’m not late, am I?” you ask. The weather’s begun to cool slightly. You’re in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans.

“Right on time,” Marcus says.

But you’re not, you think. You don’t have enough time to pick up where you left off on your discussion from last time.

Marcus holds open the door for you, his heart hammering as an idea forms. “I was wondering… You can say no if you don’t feel comfortable…”

You arch a curious brow at him. “What’s that?”

“Well, if we should exchange numbers.” Marcus rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “That way if ever either of us is feeling under the weather or running late or something comes up, neither of us is left in the lurch.”

You’d been angling for a way to get his number. Trying not to sound too eager, you say, “Sure, that’s a good idea.”

You give him your number before helping him set up a partition off to the side of the platform. “So you can change behind there with some privacy,” he explains to you.

“Right,” you say. “I’ll just…” You point to the partition as people begin to file in. As you begin to shimmy out of your jeans your phone buzzes.

Hey, this is Marcus. Just wanted you to get my number/contact information, reads the text.

Hi Marcus, you reply, sending a waving emoji along with it, before you return to changing. You can hear Marcus greet the class as the last minute din of chatter and discussions die down.

Oddly enough, you don’t feel as nervous about this as you had at the beginning. You chalk it up to being used to having a hundred and two eyes on you for the past month or so.

Waiting until Marcus finishes his opening spiel, you step out from behind the partition and stand in position, wearing the same neutral expression as always. As Marcus makes his rounds across the classroom, pointing out corrections and observations, he meets your gaze. You hold it for a long moment, his brown eyes blazing into your own eyes. It’s almost like playing a game of chicken with him, seeing who will look away first. It’s Marcus. Clearing his throat he looks down at Tessa’s sketch of you. “Very good, Miss Thompson. I like how you’ve captured her gaze. Like she knows something you don’t.”

- - - -

“How do you think it’s going so far?” asks Charlotte. It’s been almost a month since you officially started.

Picking up a box of spaghetti, you toss it into the cart that you’re pushing, Charlotte in step beside you. “I think pretty good. It’s kinda boring sometimes. And my muscles ache after a long pose.”

Charlotte nods. “I think that’s par for the course,” she says. “And the…” she gestures to herself, “stuff?”

It takes a minute for you to realize what she’s asking. “Oh. That. No, we haven’t gotten there yet. I don’t think that’s until mid-October if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. But how is professor hottie?” she asks with a knowing smirk. You and Marcus had started texting each other outside of the official reason why you’d exchanged numbers. Mostly sharing memes, but sometimes you’ll carry on a conversation that was cut short earlier in the day.

With a shrug, you grab a bag of rice. “Nothing to report,” you say, attempting nonchalance. She sees right through you.

“Oh, sure. Yeah. I believe that,” she says sarcastically.

“It’ll sound silly,” you say, “it sounds silly to me. But I feel this… magnetic pull towards him?” Charlotte doesn’t say anything. “Like, we’re definitely friends. But, I don’t know. It could be that I’m feeling all these post-divorce feelings, but Char. It’s like he sees me. In a way that no one ever has. Not even Kevin really saw me.” Charlotte fake spits at the mention of your ex-husband. “I’m probably reading too much into it. I don’t know. What I do know is he’s so fucking pretty to look at. But he’s also my boss, technically.”

Charlotte mercifully changes the topic. “And how are things at the bistro?” Of the three jobs you have, you only really mention the cafe and the modeling gig.

“Not much to report there. They gave me the all clear to go down to ten hours a week, but you already knew that. I don’t know what’s going to happen after this semester is over.”

As you push the shopping cart to the checkout, Charlotte says, “Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.” And you know she’s talking about more than one thing.

Charlotte drops you off at the building before she heads out for girls night with her friends. She keeps trying to get you to join them but it never works out or you’re worn out from work and just want to sit on the couch with a glass of wine and a book. Maybe one of these days you will go.

Marcus is just coming into the building as the door shuts behind you. “You’re earlier than usual,” he says.

“Sister dropped me off. She’s going out with some girlfriends tonight,” you explain, falling into step beside him. Your stomach growls.

“Hungry?” he asks, glancing at his watch. He has his glasses on again today. “We’ve got time before class if you wanna grab a bite to eat.”

“Um…” you hesitate for a second. It’ll be going on seven by the time class gets out and then factoring in the bus, it’ll be almost eight before you get home. “Sure.”

And that’s how you find yourself sitting across from Marcus in the cafeteria, eating wraps and chips. You’d both gone for chocolate milk as a drink. You’d offered to pay for yours, but he had simply waved you off and paid for the entire meal.

“That’s better,” you say. “It’s been so long since I had cafeteria food.”

Marcus nods. “Well, we can’t go to class on an empty stomach.”

The two of you chat on the way to the studio, the topic going to where you went to school. “I went to the University of Texas, in Austin,” Marcus offers, “art and art history.” It isn’t a lie. He had started in the art department, which was very different to the current art department he was in.

You gape at him. “No way, that’s where I went! Only I took business.”

Marcus chuckles. “Huh. Small world.”

“No kidding,” you reply as he unlocks the door to the studio. “When did you go?”

“Oh, god. Like. Fifteen years ago?” he guesses. “I graduated in 2009.”

“I started in 2008. God, that’s kind of freaky to think about. Do you think our paths ever crossed?” you ask.

“I think I’d remember if our paths ever crossed,” Marcus affirms.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you quite sure about that, Professor Dameron?” you tease, your voice just this side of flirtatious and there’s a pang in Marcus’s chest at the reminder of who he really is versus who you think he is. Still, he forces a chuckle before you step behind the partition to step out of your leggings and hoodie.

Focus is hard to achieve tonight for some reason. You’re fidgety and you blame it on what little you’re wearing. Still, you try to maintain your pose. Unable to tear your eyes from Marcus. As he’s making his rounds around the class who are diligently sketching you, he frowns. Your pose isn’t quite right.

He should just tell you to adjust the way you’re facing ever so slightly. But that would distract the class and you could change the pose too much. Once he’s finished with the student whose sketch he’s currently giving a once-over, he strolls over to you.

Your eyes lift to meet his as he steps up onto the platform, asking a silent question of “yes?”

His voice, quiet, responds, “can I just…?”

And without breaking eye contact, even for a second, he reaches out and touches you just beneath your chin, moving your face ever so slightly into the position needed.

Oh. You realize it all of a sudden, the dawning realization hitting you like a freight train, your face blazing with the sudden comprehension, the air knocked from your lungs. You’re so overwhelmed with this sudden feeling; you need to calm down, but keeping calm is the last thing you’re able to do at the moment. You’ve never been this affected by a touch as simple as this one before, not even when you were with Kevin, and that scares you a little bit if you’re being completely honest.

All of your nerve endings are on fire. It’s such an innocuous gesture, meant simply to adjust the way you’re facing. Marcus has touched you before. But not like this, never like this. You keep your eyes fixed on his, trying to school your features and, somehow, either through divine intervention or sheer fucking willpower, maintain that neutral look of defiance. His own face is impossible to read, his intense brown eyes still locked onto yours.

But he fucking knows. You liked it, want him to do that again.

“That’s better,” he murmurs gruffly. And as if he hadn’t just rocked both your worlds with his simple, innocent touch, Marcus returns to the sea of students to see how they’re progressing.

This is not good, Marcus thinks, trying to pretend like he hadn’t seen the way you reacted, the way he had reacted. Not good at all.

--- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #marcus pike x reader

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penwieldingdreamer · 2 years

Text

Just one Kiss

The third installment of my Daniel Ricciardo drabble/one-shot series. Also thank you so much for so many likes and reblogs on the other, too. I finally found a fandom again that I enjoy writing for, thank you guys.

If you're interested in the songs that inspire this, here's the Series Playlist

Happy reading. Let me know what you think.

I kept the reader as vague as possible. While writing I imagined a plus size! female! reader but you can think up whatever you want.

You had a shitty day at work, so Daniel invites you to stay with him in Monaco. In the end something might change for you both.

previous part

Warnings: fluff, some angst

Words: 2203

Come to Monaco, take some time off. We’ll go hiking and swimming, you’ll love it.

You read and re-read his message. Daniel had sent you the plane tickets after yet another lengthy call about your crazy boss who was complaining all the time. Covid had hit every business, but just like everyone else you weren’t able to change it and you couldn’t get people inside the shop to buy enough cars to keep your boss afloat.

Each and every day, no matter how hard you worked he wasn’t happy with your performance, even though all he did was sit inside his office and drink the expensive whiskey a friend gave him.

You had joked about looking for a millionaire boyfriend and stop working if you found yourself with such a boss each time you changed workplaces. The Aussie had laughed at that, telling you he’d be there, providing for everything. “Don’t do that, I’d be stamped as a gold digger.”

“Fuck ‘em, I’d still do it.” His voice was hard but still making you laugh. “Besides, you’d be a great WAG.”

Smiling at his omission, you thanked him but couldn’t help picturing what life would be like if you did end up with the F1 driver. The glitz and glamor wasn't something you needed, but joining him on one of his trips or at races definitely had its perks. After that you had talked about his upcoming race in Spain and the one back in Silverstone where he ended up on P14, not something he wanted. Not for the team and especially for himself.

“You’ll get on the podium again, Danny, it will come. Stay positive.” You tried to encourage but heard the doubt in his voice.

“I know, it’s just, I don't have a good feeling with the car. It’s working great one day and the next something is wrong. I don’t know.”

A few hours later you found his message and the link to the tickets on your phone and you knew saying No was not an option. You answered him with a grinning emoji, knowing the Renault driver was already awake and waiting for your reply.

Get ready to dine and wine me, loverboy.

The next day at work you put in your vacation time and left your boss’ office before he could comment on it. You knew he wasn’t happy with you being gone for two weeks, but since you had started working for him you had about two days off from work in the last year.

“You dare leave with such short notice when it’s the busiest time of the year? I need you here, Y/N!” he called, standing at his desk and gripping your letter before you could close the door.

"I dare to. Work is slow anyway, with the pandemic people don't want to buy cars right now."

Grumbling, he sat back down. "Just make sure you'll do a better job than before so people actually come back. With your mood swings I'd not buy a car from you, too."

Swallowing the cuss, you gave him a tight nod before leaving the office. If you didn't need that job you'd probably have given that idiot a piece of your mind but at the moment he was still paying you more than your last workplace.

Back at your own desk you shot a quick text to Daniel, wishing him luck for the race in Spain and that you couldn't wait for the weekend to be over very quickly.

Three more days, babes, and you'll enjoy the Côte d'Azur. We'll meet in Nice at the airport, I'll be waiting at your gate.

True to his words the weekend was over faster than you thought and Daniel had sent you a voice message in the morning reminding you to have all your essentials, travel documents and to bring the happiest mood now that you would spend two weeks with the Honey Badger himself. You didn't know how he always did it, he was such a happy-go-lucky guy, although sometimes having a bad day, but just picturing his smile while he sent that voice made your day brighter.

The plane ride was uneventful, even with the pandemic. All you had to do was keep your mask on and everyone was happy. Music was something you probably shared with Danny, you needed it when you were traveling, driving, cooking or just reading a book sometimes. Music made everything better and lifted the mood a bit, so thanks to some of the songs the Aussie had recommended, the journey to Nice, France had been faster than you thought.

You felt giddy, knowing he would be waiting for you at the arrival gate, hopefully in the same mood as he had that morning, knowing the weekend hadn't gone as planned for him as he wanted to. The plane finally touched down, passengers clapping and whooping loudly before you heard the snaps and clicks of the belts being loosened. Sometimes you wondered why people couldn't wait until you reached the parking spot. The doors wouldn't be opened before then, so why bother being the first to grab your shit when you'd still have to wait patiently. Shaking your head, you turned your phone back on.

You sent a quick message to your friend and family, letting them know you got there okay and one to Danny, so he knew you were about to meet him. With him being a famous driver you didn't know how many people might recognize him, if some at all with having to wear the masks and didn't want him to be in the middle of all of that. Although he once told you he didn't mind at all, but with it being this early he was confident it was smooth riding from there on.

Can't wait to see you, babes.

You chuckled at the nickname he gave you. He started a few weeks ago and when you asked him about it, the Aussie explained that it was the nickname for baby or mini potatoes.

"So, I'm a potato now?"

“No, you’re my baby potato.” His laugh had echoed through the speaker and you couldn’t help the grin that stole itself onto your lips as you thought back to it.

Grabbing your travel bag from the overhead compartment you stood and followed the passengers out of the plane. You couldn’t wait to get out of that crowd and see Danny again. It had been too long since you had time off and spending your free time with him was such a privilege. He was literally the sun, even when he had a bad day, he wanted to make his friends and loved ones smile no matter what.

Walking out of the gate, you finally were able to lose the throng of people that had traveled with you. That’s when you found him standing there in his merch hoodie, sunglasses and a mask.

“Babes, fuck I missed that smile.” He pulled you closer, his arms circling around your shoulders. Michael was sitting opposite the gate at a small cafe area, enjoying a light breakfast. "Did you have breakfast?"

You shook your head, food hadn’t been on your mind this early in the morning. Your flight had left at dawn and plane food was never something you enjoyed, so you nibbled on the cookies and granola bar you had bought before take off. “I hoped I could get something here, enjoy the ocean view and sun.”

The Aussie chuckled, nodding over at Michael who had finished his coffee and scrambled eggs. “We’ll get your luggage, take a car to Monaco and then enjoy an amazing breakfast with a view.”

The drive to Monaco and Daniel’s home there was about half an hour but the scenery that flew past was the most beautiful you had seen in a while. The waters were so blue and even the mountains on the other side looked beautiful. Before you knew it the car was in the garage of the apartment complex.

After a big brunch outside on the apartment balcony, enjoying the view down to the Port de Cap-d’Ali yacht club, the Aussie took you down to the beach.

“Did you ever make a decision you might in the end think was the wrong one?” He asked you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

You looked over at him, your hand instinctively moving to his elbow. “What’s going on, Daniel? I’ve never seen you so down before.”

Sighing, Daniel shook his head. “I, fuck, I’m not sure. With the DNF in Austria and the car's performance I asked for a seat at McLaren. I’m still finishing my contract but I don’t know if getting that ball rolling was right. I just want to race and get back on the podium.”

“Why didn't you tell me before, huh? We're friends. Are you really sure this is what you want? Changing teams, I mean. You know I’ll have your back, no matter what you do.” He put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “What did your agent say to that? And Cyril?”

Daniel laid a kiss onto your temple. “He’s on board I think, it’s just so fucking annoying. I try to get it working, I have a few good positions and then it’s fucked up again. Most of all I miss my cheerleader at the track. And well, Cyril is…he's not happy but we're amicable and I try to get the points in, so at least it will be a split on good grounds. I thought he was never going to talk to me again.”

“I guess I can understand that. I wouldn't be happy, too, if my star driver talked with other teams after the first race. But it is your life, your decision in the end and as long as you try I think that's more than you can say about other people. Just think it through very well and take it day by day. Also, I'd be there more often, but I can’t get out of work all the time even if I wanted to. But you know I’m always watching you race and keeping you in my prayers.”

The Aussie let out a soft laugh. “You sound like my mum, she’s doing the same with every race.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Your mum’s not wrong to do that, it’s a risky business you’re enjoying. But it’s what you love so I guess there’s no way you’ll be quitting now.”

“Definitely not, but I’m glad you’re here now.” He stopped suddenly, his long fingers brushing a few loose strands out of your face. Daniel’s eyes locked with yours, switching down to look at your lips. Before you could react, his plush lips were on yours. His free hand moved behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

Your own hands moved from his arms up to his shoulders, holding onto him with all your might, your knees already buckling from the sensations. The last time you had kissed him was back in Australia. That summer had haunted you for months - but in a good way if you were honest. You still felt his touch every night even when Daniel wasn’t there and for the longest time you had dreamed of getting that feeling back.

He pulled away, looking at your serene face. Your eyes were still closed and he couldn’t help the satisfied grin. “I really wanted to do that when you came to Silverstone.”

"There's still COVID, we should have been more careful. What if you"

"Fuck COVID, all I could think about was that smile and your lips. Kept me up at night every fucking day."

“Well, good things come to those who wait.” You returned his grin once you had looked back at him. Daniel had that broad grin he usually wore and you felt your insides tingle. “What’s it mean now?”

Shrugging his shoulders the F1 driver brushed his thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t know but I’d like to see where we're going. Take it day by day, ya know.”

“That’s a great idea I think.” You stood up on your tiptoes, grabbing his cheeks and pushing your lips against his for another kiss.

Just one kiss had changed your dynamic from friends to something more and you couldn’t wait to explore where it might lead you.

The days after you spent swimming, hiking and just exploring Monaco and the area around the principality. You'd keep your relationship under wraps from the rest of the world for now, not an easy feat with him being a famous Formula 1 driver, but it didn't mean you had to sneak around. Daniel took you on a few dates and you promised to try and be at a few more races, staying at the Renault garage, rooting for your favorite Aussie. You also met his friends and saw Max again, enjoying the time out on the water with them and knew he had needed that time off from all the drama since the start of the season, not just with the pandemic but with the Renault-McLaren issue, too.

next part

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 #curvy!reader #plus size!reader #female!reader

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nobodysdaydreams · 8 months

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okay I’ve been wanting to ask you stuff for ur…ask game things but I genuinely cannot find the post to know what to ask. does that make sense?

So uh *slams random emojis and numbers on the counter* whatever these will get me.

32??? 1? 12….52?

🐢🧍‍♂️❤️‍🩹💕🤲🤩

I have to at least get one of those right…hopefully.

((also side note I’ve been meaning to say I like ur new username! very nice 👍))

Ember, I tried my very best to find old ask games I reblogged with these emojis, sadly I could not. I found this one for the numbers. I already answered 1 and 32 here. I answer 12 and 52 below and have a few other fun treats for you.

12. How does receiving or not receiving feedback/support help you? Feedback helps me so much. It lets me know that my writing is good and that I’m doing something right. Originally, fanfic was just supposed to be me getting my brain bees™️ out of my head so I could focus. I didn’t expect people to actually enjoy them to such a degree. I mean, I figured someone else who liked TMBS might like them a little, but I did not expect such incredible feedback.

I got a tumblr in September of last year to release my thoughts on TMBS, including my SOS fan theory, but I never intended to write any fic about it, because it was a super specific head canon (and also I'd never even read fanfic before at that point, though I'd heard of the concept), I wasn't sure people would like it, I'd never done any serious creative writing before, and at the time, I had no idea how much season 2 canon would continue to support it's plausibility. But, for better or for worse, eventually I was inspired enough to write the fic. And if you told me in January of this year, before SOS was published, when it was just a little idea in my head that I’d have people drawing fan art based on my fics, doing elaborate analyses call out posts based on my fics (thank you @sophieswundergarten and @itsgoghtime🥰), making a whole personality quiz based on my fic (again thank you Sophie), getting a tumblr to compliment my on my fic and share headcanons, and, the latest of the fandom's beautiful compliments, someone doing a whole podcast episode based on one of my fics (thanks @heyitsthatonesmolgay), I would not have believed you.

This feedback means the world to me, and it's also taught me the importance of leaving feedback on other fics as well. Part of the rational in writing SOS was releasing the thoughts that are inside my head about my hyperfixation, since I'd be thinking about it constantly anyway. Writing it out is certainly more rewarded than daydreaming alone, but it's also more time consuming. Knowing that someone out there is not only listening to what I'm saying, but enjoying it to such a degree lets me know that this is a hobby that's worth the time and energy. Obviously, it's fine to do hobbies only for yourself, I did that for years, but being able to do something you enjoy in such a way that it makes someone else happier and brings joy to someone's life is incredibly rewarding. And if I didn't receive any feedback, I would assume no one was listening. I'd release my ideas into the void to get the brain bees out, and then when the hyperfixation died, I'd just delete them. But now I know that I'm not just talking to the void anymore, I'm talking to a group of people that are invested in the stories I have to share. Feedback on fics lets authors know that they're good at writing, because they might not know it. I certainly never thought so. Sure, I thought my ideas were cool, but has everyone else I've ranted to about mbs irl thought that? Not exactly. So leave feedback on your favorite fics, go crazy about them. Don't burn yourself out, obviously, but trust me, it will not go unappreciated, especially in a smaller fandom.

52. Do you respond to comments why or why not?

I always try to respond with something. They make me so happy; someone took the time out of their day to say they liked my fic, my ideas, and comment or ask questions about them! It’s a great honor, and thank you all for your lovely comments and feedback!

Finally, the emojis you sent didn't correspond to an ask game, however, I do have one little treat I think you'll like.

As you may be aware, I am writing a secret fan fic for Curio's secret fic gift exchange. I can't promise the fic is at the level of my usual work (as you may have suspected from my lack of SOS updates, I've been quite busy), but I shall try my best. However, what I can promise you is that A) more SOS is coming, and B) regardless of who my gift fic is for, it will include a brief reference or mention of the book "The Little Prince", which I know you are a big fan of. Unfortunately, I can't give any more context beyond that.

Oh, and thank you! I'm glad you like the new username!

#Bods Answers #Thank you Ember #I hope you like the fic #no spoilers I'm sorry #ask game

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maple-seed · 2 years

Text

Thrown - Chapter 3: Fighting Words

Summary: Despite his best efforts, Loki gets dragged to dinner with you and Thor. You manage to get a rise out of him during the meal.

Word Count: 2,771

Author’s Notes: Thanks to everyone reblogging/commenting. It's nice to know a few people are enjoying the story.

Masterlist

Loki had managed to dodge Thor's errands for more than a week, at least those that took him out of New Asgard. He was going to be dragged out to that wretched human town again today, he could feel it in his bones. It was late morning and he hadn't yet left his bedroom, hoping his brother might forget he existed. No such luck, there was a knock at the door.

"Loki-" "You want me to accompany you somewhere." "I'm just dropping off some papers in town. I'd enjoy your company for the walk. You don't have to." Loki thought for a moment. Dropping something off should be quick, with little interaction. If he went with Thor on this simple mission he may be able to avoid another, more taxing errand in the future. "Alright, I'll go."

They were soon walking down the streets of New Asgard. Loki still received the occasional wary look but most of the Æsir had acclimated to his presence. All of those in New Asgard were aware of how their prince had sacrificed himself for their benefit, some had even witnessed it. And while the world at large hadn't been told about the TVA and the branching realities, the Asgardian people had heard the story of how this new Loki had come to be among them. It had become clear in the time since that two distinct opinions had developed in the community. There were some who believed that this Loki was in fact not their Loki but a Loki from somewhere else, and therefore they did not trust him. Others believed instead that this was actually their Loki, and rather than sacrifice himself he had again faked his death on the ship, and therefore they did not trust him. The end result being that everyone generally didn't quite trust Loki, which had more or less always been the case. This made it quite easy to settle into their new relationship with the prince, as it was essentially the same one they'd had before.

The brothers made their way up the road, making amicable conversation. The cottage in the bend in the road came into view. Loki made his prayers, and so far they held out; you weren't anywhere to be seen. As they drew closer his luck ran out. You were walking between the cottage and the building adjacent, the black dog at your heels. You spotted them and waved. "Boys! Good morning!" Thor was already stopping to visit, Loki begrudgingly did the same. "Good morning!" Thor must have been making stops here in the days past, because the dog happily trotted up to him and he knelt to pet it at eye level. "And good morning to you, Ash." He looked back to you. "How are you today?" You smiled and shrugged. "Oh you know, just working."

Loki now noticed that you. were. filthy. Your hands, your arms nearly to your elbows were covered in dirt. Or, he supposed, clay. It was on your clothes, your hair, even a smudge or two on your face. "And yourself? Heading for town?" Thor stood up from his position doting on the dog. "Just a quick trip today. There and back again." The dog approached Loki, sniffing inquisitively. Loki did not move a muscle. After a moment Ash seemed satisfied and returned to your side. Loki was still holding his breath, waiting for the opportunity to move on. You brushed some dried clay off of your shirt. "I'm cooking a roast tonight. You two should come by."

And that was it. Their fates were now sealed. What did Loki do to offend the Norns today?

Thor appeared to ponder the proposal but it was surely just an act. "It seems unfair, you've served us once already and we've yet to return the kindness." "Oh, don't make me twist your arm. If you don't come over I'll have to freeze half of it anyway." "Well I suppose if that's the case then we would be doing you a disservice to decline. Wouldn't you say, Loki?" Loki's face was stone. "Yes, I suppose so." You beamed. "Perfect. I'll see you tonight." You gave a wave and went on your way, disappearing into the next building, Ash followed suit.

The brothers were back on their trek. Loki was brooding with the loudest silence he could muster. Thor gave him a playful elbow. "Oh come on, Loki. I'm sure you're tired of the food at home." "I'm tired of the company here." Thor laughed. "You make this so much worse on yourself. Sometimes I think you're trying to be miserable." "I'm not going." "Don't tell me that Loki, the fearsome God of Mischief, is intimidated by a mere mortal." "You know that isn't the case." Thor raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "That's how it seems from here. Loki, Prince of Asgard, cowed by the thought of dinner with a human." Loki knew what he was doing, which made the fact that it was working all the more annoying. Thor could see the cracks forming. "You could consider it a challenge." Loki sighed. There wasn't going to be a way out of this, anyhow. "I suppose I can't let her win." Thor chuckled. "Yes, she is quite the formidable adversary. You shouldn't give her any ground."

The rest of the trip into town was uneventful. Thor dropped off his papers, and since there was now a dinner on the agenda he picked up a couple bottles of wine as well. They meandered through the streets for a bit before finding their way back onto the road to New Asgard. They rounded the yew tree at the corner, the sign that they were halfway home. The building you had entered earlier had the door propped open. Looking at it now, Loki realized it had likely been another cottage, originally. It seemed to have the same general construction as your home. As they passed Loki risked a glance in the window. He could see you bent over a pottery wheel, focused. You didn't take notice of the brothers on their way by.

It was evening. Loki had spent the afternoon wallowing in his dread and now he was standing on your front porch while Thor knocked on the door. He had decided against an absolute vow of silence, in the end that had felt like playing into your hand. Still, he was determined not to be good company. Whatever it took to discourage you from including him in future dinners, short of being directly unkind. Thor would take issue with that.

You opened the door with a smile. "Come on in, boys. Just finishing setting up." As they crossed the threshold Thor raised the wine bottles in his hand. "I've brought an offering." "Oh thanks! You didn't have to do that." You took a bottle and bustled off to the kitchen, with the "boys" trailing behind. The table was already set. Again, none of the dishes matched. The roast was at the table, already carved. There were bowls of side dishes as well. You were on your tiptoes reaching into a cabinet, after a moment you finally came away with three wine glasses. "There we go. I don't pull these out very often but I'm not about to serve a couple of gods wine in a mug." Loki was mildly surprised that you owned any sort of vessel that wasn't made of clay.

Thor and Loki took their seats while you were tracking down a corkscrew. The dog had been pacing the room, circling the table. As you took your seat you waved your hand at him. "Ash, go lay down." He gave you a reproachful look but went to his cushion against the wall and flopped down. "He loves roast." You offered as an explanation.

The food was certainly better than what they would have had at home. Thor and Loki could cook well enough to survive but it was a skill they had never had much need to develop. You and Thor made easy conversation, Loki occasionally nodded or gave short replies when prompted but had largely been successful in avoiding interaction.

"Loki, Thor tells me that you're an avid reader. Have you been to the library in town yet?" Loki scoffed. "There isn't any Midgardian literature that's worth the time." Thor shook his head and spoke between bites. "No, I remember there being a human author you were fond of. The poet. What was his name?" He chewed thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers. "Shakespeare! His books were in our library." Loki gave a small nod of concession. "Well, yes, I suppose compared to the drivel the rest of humanity-" "Eh, I never really got the appeal." You shrugged and took a sip of wine. Loki was startled by your interruption. "Pardon?" "Shakespeare. Not that great. Overrated, really." Loki paused, then gave a short laugh of disbelief. "Overrated? He's the most significant writer your people have seen." "What's so special about him? His most famous work is basically a teenage drama." This was one of the most absurd statements Loki had ever heard. "Clearly you didn't understand the point." You looked unimpressed. "Maybe you're just reading too much into it. Kinda pretentious." The insult brought him over the line. He couldn't bear the arrogance. "It would seem Midgardian education is even more lacking than I previously thought." "You're not making a great case for Asgardian education, I'd say."

That was it, he had to show you that you were wrong. Spurred forward, he began making the case for Shakespeare being significant and foundational, in return you consistently countered with arguments that he was derivative or absurd. He'd give examples and you had just as many to parry with. This continued for nearly ten minutes, culminating in you positing that there actually was no ghost at all in Hamlet, that it's really just a story of a man gone insane. Loki was opening his mouth to respond when he froze. He came to a sudden realization: you could only make these ridiculous arguments if you were intimately familiar with Shakespeare's works. You were doing this on purpose. You had tricked him into a conversation. He watched your face, your expression shifted as you recognized he had caught on. You opened your hands resting on the table, palms up, and gave a small half-smile, it had an apologetic air. Loki looked at Thor, who hadn't spoken a word in quite some time. He was wearing an amused grin, he must have picked up on it as well. Loki glowered and drained his wine glass.

You did him the courtesy of changing the subject. "I understand you have a talent with magic." "Hm. Yes. A talent." Loki was refilling his glass. Thor rejoined the conversation. "I've never seen a greater master of seiðr." He sounded genuinely proud. "Except, perhaps, our mother." "What sort of magic do you do?" He could hear in your voice that you were trying to rein in your enthusiasm for the topic. He offered a vague wave of disinterest. "Illusion, mostly." "I'd love to see that." "I don't perform tricks on command." You nodded. "Fair enough."

It was all you were going to get out of the dark-haired god, but you seemed satisfied. You turned back to Thor with something you remembered from a previous conversation, Loki finished his meal in relative peace. When it became clear that everyone had eaten their fill, you stood up and picked up the wine, at some point the second bottle had been opened. "Let's go sit in the living room, finish this off where it's more comfortable." You picked up your glass and made your way to one of the plush armchairs as you poured yourself a refill. To Loki's annoyance Thor followed suit, taking a place on the couch. Loki joined him, and when you set the wine bottle on the coffee table he picked it up to top off his glass. He was determined to empty this bottle as soon as possible.

Thor lifted a picture frame from the end table. It was a photo of you and an old woman. Loki was terrible at guessing human ages. He recognized the chairs you were sitting in as the same ones currently on the front porch. The two of you were laughing, eyes nearly completely closed, grasping at each other's arms as if you both had to brace against the other to stay upright. Thor turned the photo to you. "Is this Gerdy?" You gave a warm smile as you looked at the picture. "That's her. That's my favorite picture of us." Thor looked down at the photo again. "She was very dear to you." "Oh yes, very much." An edge of sadness had crept into your voice, but just barely. "She was everything. She gave me a home. She gave me art. A means of living. Everything I have I owe to her. She's the sole reason I'm even here." "Ah, then we owe her a debt as well." Thor set the photo down and raised his glass. "To Gerdy, for blessing us with the opportunity to meet." You smiled and lifted your glass, Loki thought he saw a trace of tears brimming in your eyes. He raised his glass as well and the three of you drank to Gerdy's spirit.

The conversation turned to New Asgard and some hall Thor was hoping to build. The social reprieve allowed Loki to focus on eliminating as much wine as possible, sometimes even refilling Thor's glass for him. Finally, the bottle was empty and he could feel the evening coming to a close. Thor was standing to leave when there was a ringing chime, the source of which turned out to be Thor's phone. Midgard technology he had adopted. He'd tried to convince Loki to get one as well but he wouldn't have it. Thor pulled out the device and frowned at the screen. "I'm afraid I should take this." He turned to you. "My lady, thank you for a wonderful evening." You smiled and to Loki's dismay you reached up to hug the god. "Any time, it was a pleasure." Thor stepped out the front door to answer the call. Loki gave you a nod and turned to follow. "Loki, wait." He stopped and looked at you sidelong. He was absolutely not going to hug you. You held up a finger. "Wait there just a second." You disappeared into the bedroom, and returned a moment later with a book. "You can borrow this, if you like. Just until you have a chance to build back your own library."

Loki looked down at the book you had pushed into his hands. The Collected Works of William Shakespeare. He ran a thumb over the embossed letters of the cover and looked back up at you. You seemed to be holding your breath, you looked almost nervous as you waited for his response. It was the first time he'd seen you as anything other than politely confident. He looked down at the book again and thought for a moment, then he met your eyes and held the book aloft in one hand. It vanished with a flash of green light. Your face was an image of earnest delight, fading to a warm smile. "Thank you," you said quietly, then added with a wink, "I won't tell Thor." Loki gave a grateful nod. "Thank you." Then stepped out the door into the night.

Thor was finishing his call as Loki approached. Loki gestured to the phone as Thor put it away. "All's well?" "Yes, another shipment of supplies is on the way." The brothers began their trek toward New Asgard. Thor turned to Loki. "Who won the battle tonight?" "I've decided to declare it a draw." Thor chuckled and they continued their walk in relative silence, occasionally commenting on the hills or the stars or the sea in the distance.

Loki's mind wandered back to the book you had given him. Perhaps he should have declined it, he was trying to discourage interaction, after all. Part of him made the argument that he had taken the book because he wanted it. Why not accept something that was useful to him? After he had prepared for bed he sat in his room with the book in his hands. His eyes ran over the pages and it was something of a comfort. Familiar words in an unfamiliar world. That's why he had taken it, he told himself.

Another voice in his mind said that wasn't the entire truth.

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#loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #slow burn #loki & thor #mcu loki #loki mcu #no y/n #loki thrown

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