#not sure how I feel about the lighting but I’m trying
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Need you
18+
“And then the bitch scoffed and rolled her eyes like I didn't just apologize. I need to find a new place asap cause I swear next time she try me Imma fuck her up- “
“What I tell you bout cussing?” Ony’s deep voice filled the room, dark eyes piercing into yours as a warning.
“Anywaysss” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the side eye he was giving. “You’ve been awfully quiet since I came over. What’s going on?” You put your freshly manicured feet in his face.
“Nothing you’ve just been yapping the whole time.” He smirked.
“Rude” You gasped, nudging him with your toes.
“Nah I'm just chillin’. You know I like listening to you talk.” He shrugged, placing your legs into his lap. Lighting the blunt he just rolled, a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he took a hit.
“Whatever” You smiled as he passed it to you.
You and Ony often had moments like these, a smoke sesh usually spent with you talking about your week as he massaged your feet. Your relationship with Ony was…complicated. Ever since Sasha introduced you two, y'all were inseparable, constantly getting mistaken for a couple, and who could blame them?
Most thought this because Ony always had to be touching you, whether it was holding your hand, an arm around your shoulder, or a tight grip on your waist. However, for some, it was how you two would always disappear during the function. Claiming you were only talking, but the slight sheen on Ony’s lips and your slightly ruffled clothing told otherwise.
You weren’t quite friends with benefits. At least that's what you told yourselves. The whole ordeal just kinda happened. You were stressed over your midterms and Ony of course offered to help you study. Though after hours of reading flashcards and practice tests, you were still stressed and on the verge of tears when Ony offered another way to help you. That night you ended up with your legs in the air as Ony sucked the soul out of your pussy. Ever since then any inconvenience one had, the other would do their best to help relieve the stress. Your roommate upset you? Ony fed you long deep strokes, pampering you with soft kisses while he whispered in your ear. Ony was pissed that his supplier flaked on him? Ony would have the tightest grip on your hips as he drilled into you from behind, claiming the waves of your ass hypnotized him into forgetting what he was upset about. Some days neither of you needed an excuse. Some days you just craved each other.
Despite your unique relationship, you remained friends allowing the other to do what they pleased, though neither you nor Ony slept with or saw other people. Your dynamic was good and worked for both of you. That was until you started seeing Jean.
“You n that nigga Jean still fuckin around?” He broke the silence, waiting for your answer as your eyes met his.
“Ony” You groaned, the tight grip he had on your ankles preventing you from moving.
“What? I can’t ask you questions now?” He kissed his teeth, putting out the blunt.
“No, because any time you ask about Jean we end up getting into an argument and I’m really enjoying my time with you right now. So no, you cannot ask.”
“Whatever. I’m just tryna figure out when you gon stop playing in my face nd be with me instead of his bitchass.”
“Onyankopon '' You shrieked. You never understood why Ony hated Jean till a few weeks ago when Ony drunkenly confessed his feelings. At first, you thought he was joking but the look on his face told you otherwise. For a minute, you were happy. Ony was everything you had wanted in a boyfriend and you two had practically been in a relationship just without the labels. It wasn't till Jean texted you that you got upset. Why confess his feelings when you're finally in a relationship? Deciding it'd be best to forget about it, you put Ony to bed, hoping he'd also forget about his confession. Clearly, you were wrong.
“What? I don't understand what you see in him. He's annoying as fuck, and I'm pretty sure he has 4 brain cells. Maximum.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of Jean. “Why won't you give me a chance when I'm the one for you?”
“We've talked about this Ony.” You sighed. Conversations like these were becoming frequent and they were so tiring.
“No mama you've talked nd I've listened.” You thought about it, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Silently praying this wouldn't end up in an argument you gave him a chance.
“Okay. I'm listening.” You whispered.
“C’mere,” He released your ankles.
“Ony I’m not gonna-”
“[☆]” The dominance in his tone had you clenching around nothing.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. The moment you sat on his lap you just knew how it was going to end.
“Why you with him instead of me? And don't feed me no bullshit” His large hands were rubbing up and down your thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy that desperately ached for him.
You tried and you tried but there wasn't any good reason as to why you were Jean. Sure he was cute but he had no idea how to make you feel special and overall just couldn't please you. In multiple ways. The main reason though was that he wasn’t Ony. He just asked first.
“I don't know, Ony” You finally sighed, looking everywhere but him.
Any discipline you had when it came to Ony vanished when his hand wrapped around your throat, the slight pressure on your carotid causing your brain to go fuzzy and your panties to get damp “Look at me”
“Be real. Please” Ony released his hold on your neck to grip your thighs.
“You had the longest opportunity to ask me to be with you but you never took the chance, yet when I'm finally in a relationship you suddenly wanna give up everything and take a chance to be with me and I feel like that’s not fair to me Ony.”
He rubbed his hands down his face with a sigh. “You're right.”
"I did have that opportunity and always hesitated. I always assumed it would be just you and me, that you wouldn't pursue other relationships because of our bond. Since the day we met, I've wanted you. I know this is unfair and I'm so sorry princess, but I can't ignore my feelings any longer. Jean can't possibly be the man you want, the man you deserve. But I can. I promise to take the chance if you just give me another opportunity, and I'll do everything in my power to make you proud. You’re my best friend, my favorite person in the whole universe and I'm determined to be the person you need. I love you [☆].”
“Ony” you huffed, feeling as if all air was being vacuumed out of your lungs at his confession.
“Please. Lemme show you how much I love you.” He whispered, closing the distance that separated you. “Please” He captured your lips, his usual sweet taste with a hint of spiciness from the weed clouding your thoughts. Oh, how you missed this. Missed him. The kiss was intimate and familiar, the passion growing with each second. Ony’s hands roamed your body, gripping the soft flesh of your thighs before traveling to your ass, taking pleasure in the soft moan you let out, and using the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. On instinct, your hips rocked down onto him.
“Fuck, baby. I missed you” He groaned, flipping you onto your back.
“Ony we can’t” You huffed, despite the wetness growing in between your thighs. God he looked so good. His muscles bulged as he took his shirt off, your eyes trailed down his torso, mouth watering at the prominent v-line peeking from his low sitting sweats.
“Do you want this? Yes, or no?” His tongue traced lazy patterns on your skin as he littered your neck with kisses.
“Ony I-”
“Yes or no [☆]?” He nipped on your earlobe, hand dipping below the waistband of your leggings.
“Fuck, Ony” his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of your thong, fingers slipping through your folds. Gathering your arousal before circling your clit in tight circles. “Yes, please”
“Then shut up and lemme show you how much I love you” He murmured as he undressed you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he lapped at your folds like a starved man, his tongue repeatedly flicking your clit. “Missed you so fucking much. Don't ever give my pussy away again. You hear me?” He muttered, sliding two digits past your entrance. The action was easy with how wet you were.
“Ony” Your thighs threatened to close around his head.
“Answer me or I'm stopping” He slowed his movements, leaving you needy.
“It's yours. I'm yours pa, I promise” Your legs shook as he continued to give you slow strokes, the addition of another finger having you seeing stars. “O-Ony wait” You panted, attempting to push his head away but he refused to let up on your pussy, never wanting to stop till he and his couch were soaked in your essence as he lapped at your clit.
“Ony I’m so-fuck I'm so close” Your words encouraged him to speed up as he repeatedly hit the spongy spot of your walls. “Ony” Your walls clenched around his fingers, leaving little room for his fingers to continue as you reached your peak.
Despite your thighs tightening around his head he continued his assault on your pussy. It wasn't until he was finally satisfied with slurping up your arousal, that he pulled away pressing gentle kisses on your throbbing clit as he pulled his soaked fingers out of your walls.
“Missed you so much” He mumbled, giving you the nastiest kiss ever, your arousal all over his lower face.
“I missed you too”
“Yeah?” He grabbed your hips, positioning you on all fours.
“Ony” You whined, pout forming on your lips as you looked back. His dick standing tall now that it was no longer confined. God, please let me have feeling in my legs tomorrow.
“I know you ain't think I was done. You played in my face and let another nigga hit and think I'm not finna put you back in your place? Nah, both you and this pussy need a reminder of who you belong to” He slid his dick through your folds, your cream acting as lube.
“Matter a fact” He lined up at your entrance just as your phone started ringing ‘Jean baby’ flashing on the bright screen.
“Lemme show this nigga too.”
first time ever writing smut nd even though it was short it took me foreverrr but i think it turned out okay. also so sorry for all my Jean girlies out there lol. anyways i hope you enjoyed nd any feedback is greatly appreciated. mwah
#aot x black reader#anime x black!reader#aot x reader#black reader#onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon#attack on titan#onyankopon fluff#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x you#onyankopon smut#onyankapon#ony smut#onyankopon x plusize reader#plusize reader#onyankopon x chubby reader#chubby reader#aot fluff#aot fic#aot smut#aot#attack on titan smut#attack on titan fluff#aot onyankopon x black y/n#aot onyankopon x black!reader#ony x black reader#onyankopon#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon x black reader smut
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it’s well past two in the morning when all your guests have left, and it’s just you and jeonghan and some cardboard boxes.
the two of you are taping the last of his boxes shut, a movie you’ve seen a million times playing on the television, both of you talking and laughing over it. the party has just died down — yours and jeonghan’s farewell party.
he’d said it sounded too dramatic, when you first brought it up. because neither of you were going far. you to your new studio apartment and jeonghan moving in with seungkwan, now that the lease was up and the owner wasn’t planning to renew it. jeonghan had dubbed it the “house-cooling” party instead, the opposite of housewarming — the kind of stupid joke he only makes to you.
still, though, as you sit among the boxes and leftover pizza, you feel kind of — wistful. when you say as much, jeonghan laughs, reaching over to tap under your chin fondly.
“wistful?” he repeats, smiling.
you huff at him. “i’m going to miss you, that’s what i’m saying, you ass.”
“i’m not going far,” he reminds you. “we’re literally within twenty minutes of each other. fifteen on a good day.”
“still!”
“i’ll visit you all the time. i’ll get tired of seungkwan doing karaoke. and then we’ll basically be roommates again, because he doesn’t stop doing karaoke.”
jeonghan’s tone is light and easy, but you can’t help wondering why the two of you aren’t going to be roommates again. why you hadn’t looked for an apartment together. neither of you had brought it up, things just fell this way, and all of a sudden you’re thinking about how jeonghan always moves your washing to the dryer for you and how much you’re going to miss him.
because you really are — not just because of laundry. you guys were roommates before you became actually close, brought together by mutual friends; you’ve never known a jeonghan that wasn’t jeonghan, my roommate, and suddenly it feels a little like losing him. because suddenly you love him, and not in a jeonghan, my roommate way. not in a jeonghan, my friend way either — in a way that puts aches in your chest, has your ribs living up to their name, acting a cage for your heart. you’re not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough.
you’d been clinging to the hope that it would pass; everyone knows you don’t date your roommate. but now — now he’s not your roommate, and it hasn’t passed, and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.
on one hand: you could tell him. bare it all out, in the open, raw and bloody and unfettered. on the other hand: there are so many things you would rather do than experience rejection. you’d be able to take just being his roommate if you needed to. could’ve held out until it passed.
“maybe we should’ve moved in together again,” you voice, forcing your voice light and airy and casual, playing it like a random off-hand suggestion.
jeonghan’s vehement shake of the head is surprising, and it stings. more than you expected. “no.”
you can quite literally feel your face fall, staring at him without pretence. “what?”
he looks up from the box he’s packing, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his brown eyes. “ask me why,” he instructs softly.
you swallow thickly. it’s hard not to, when he’s looking at you like that — warm and familiar and intense and scary, all at once. your eyes follow the strand of dark hair that falls over his forehead, suddenly realising just how close he is. “why?”
jeonghan sets down the tape, tilting his head to the side, choosing his words slowly, carefully. “because if i ever ask you to move in with me again, it’ll be very different to this. can you pass me the scissors?”
you barely even hear the last part. “different? different how?”
“just… different.” he shrugs, reaching over you for the scissors himself. “you’ll be dating me, for one thing.”
time seems to come to a halt when he says those words, and you barely manage a whisper — “what?”
jeonghan rolls his eyes and pokes your forehead. “i’m trying to say i’m in love with you, dipshit. can you please take a hint?”
you malfunction. it’s late and your brain is already fried enough from finals and he’s staring at you, and this isn’t a dream, this is real.
and so you launch your roll of tape in his direction.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
jeonghan doesn’t even need to dodge the tape, but still gapes at you. “what?”
“you can’t— just drop a love confession like a — like a hot potato, and then expect me to catch it!”
“a hot potato?” he repeats, and then he’s biting down on a laugh, shoulders shaking. “did you just call my love confession a fucking hot potato?”
“no! yes, well — ” you flounder, confused in your embarrassment. “oh my god. you’re so mean. i wasn’t ready.”
jeonghan’s still laughing. “if i’d warned you in advance, what would you have answered?”
and now it’s your turn to stare him down: “you didn’t ask anything yet. what am i supposed to answer?”
that only tilts jeonghan’s smile further upward, and he scoots closer, leaning on one arm. you can smell him, soft and fresh and so incredibly near, as he speaks — “you’re smart. i think you can work it out.”
you kiss him first. quick and sweet, over and over. you think it’s probably answer enough.
also in my head this is the same couple from this drabble but they can be read separately
an / hana comeback era ⁉️ this is just something i wrote super quick but HIII it’s been almost 2 months since i posted some writing 😭 i’m so sorry this awful piece is the first thing u guys get, hopefully will write something better soon!
perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura @dokyeomkyeom
#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen fanfic#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan comfort#jeonghan fic#jeonghan fanfic#jeonghan x y/n#jeonghan scenarios
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At the End of the World (Cooper Howard x reader)
(Part 2)
A/N: So I don’t know how much I like this, but I think after this piece I’m going to try to follow some of the show but just add my own little twists into it :) I hope you guys like it! Enjoy!!
Warning: nothing outside of canon, mentions of bad dreams and of child loss, a twisted ankle
Word Count: 4.3k
Summary: Sometimes Lucy doesn’t know when to stop asking questions. Here is Part 1 in case anyone missed it :)
You jolted awake, eyes opening wide and lips parting with a soft gasp. Your heart beat so hard against your chest that it actually hurt.
“Easy, doll.”
You furrowed your brows as you looked up at Cooper. Your head rested in his lap, his hand gently brushing over your hair.
You pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your hands over your face.
“Shit.” You cursed.
”Everything alright?”
”Yeah. Yeah, um…. Just a bad dream, I guess.” You looked over your shoulder to him. You moved to sit against your backpack, your leg brushing against Cooper’s. You bent your knees slightly, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “Do you have my smokes?”
He reached into the pocket on his jacket for the carton of cigarettes and a lighter. You took the carton and pulled out a cigarette. His eyes watched you put the stick between your lips. With a flick of his thumb, a flame appeared over the lighter. You leaned over to light the cigarette, taking a small breath.
“Heart’s racin’.” He commented.
You leaned back, blowing a cloud of smoke out of your mouth.
Your hand falls down to your lap, the cigarette dangling loosely between two fingers.
You try to fight the feeling, to fight the scratchy lump forming in your throat. Your right eye stings with tears and your chest tightened as if you were being suffocated.
“I miss her so much, Coop.” Though your voice was weak, he could hear your words just fine.
“I know ya do, doll.”
You hastily brushed the tears off of your cheek. Your gaze fell upon the Vault Dweller that laid fast asleep just a few feet away from you.
You raised the cigarette to your lips, the stick trembling just slightly in your grip.
“My Gracie would be about her age now.”
Wordlessly, Cooper reached over to place his hand on your knee. He didn’t know how to comfort you, how to make you feel better. As a parent himself, he knew what it was like to lose a child. Though for him, there was the smallest chance that his girl was still alive. He just wasn’t sure.
”Finish that cigarette, doll, then you need to try to go to sleep.”
You stiffly shook your head.
“I don’t want to sleep. If-If I have to see her again….” You trailed off.
Cooper let out a soft sigh. You were one stubborn lady.
Silence fell between the two of you. Your eyes seemed glued to Lucy but your gaze was blank. Even though you sat right next to him, you were a thousand miles away.
***
When the sun came up, you, Lucy, and Cooper were back to trudging across the Wasteland. You walked a few feet ahead of Lucy and behind her was Cooper. His eyes continuously scanned the Wasteland for any signs of danger, one hand resting on a handgun on his hip. He had bound Lucy’s hands before the three of you started your journey. He didn’t trust her.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Lucy spoke as she jogged to catch up to you. You glanced over to her for a few moments before looking back to the path ahead.
“I’m not feeling too chatty today. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
”Are you okay?”
”Yes, I’m fine.”
”I’ve been having a lot of bad dreams lately too.” Lucy sighed out. “There’s just…. There’s so much death and-and blood. I don’t know how people do it.”
”We don’t have any other choice.”
”Yeah, I guess.” The vault dweller shrugged her shoulders.
“Some of us have had to go through so much that the thought of giving up now seems…. It seems pointless. We just….” You paused for a moment. “We just have to keep finding the next thing to keep us going.”
”Like what?” She looked over to you. “Icy, I-I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. You had a family, a whole family and-and now…. I wouldn’t be able to keep going.”
You pressed your lips together. You wanted to be angry with her, to be upset with her. If she thought that everything that had happened to her in the short time she’s been on the surface was bad, she was in for a nasty surprise.
“Sometimes after such loss…. It takes finding someone else who has been through similar things to keep you going.”
Lucy glanced over her shoulder to the Ghoul that traveled a little ways behind them.
The vaultie followed you down a slight incline, but she stepped the wrong way and twisted her ankle. Immediately, she fell to the ground from the pain.
“Ah! Ow! Ow, ow ow!”
”Quiet down, girly.” You knelt down beside her. She clutched at her ankle, groaning in pain. With your cybernetic left eye, you could see that she had overstretched the ligaments.
”What the hell happened, Vaultie?” Cooper looked down at the two of you.
“She sprained her ankle.” You sighed, untying her boot.
“Course she did.”
“Wait, what-what are you doing?” Lucy furrowed her brows.
”Your ankle is going to swell and if you leave it in your boot, it’ll only do you more damage.”
”Oh. O-Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. I guess.” Lucy breathed. “Are-Are you a doctor?”
You looked at her for a couple moments. Sometimes you weren’t sure if she was being serious or joking with you.
You put the boot into your backpack and stood up.
“She’s not going to be able to walk much longer, Coop.”
”Well she don’t got much of a choice, does she?”
You looked to the west where the sun was beginning to set.
“We’re about four hours out from Alma’s.” You looked to Cooper. His jaw went slack as he brought his hand up to rub his brow.
“Damn it.”
”Who’s Alma?” Lucy started to try to stand up. You held your hand out for her to help her to her feet, then you cut off the rope binding her hands together. It would make it easier to help her walk with her hands not stuck together. “Thanks.”
”She’s a friend.”
”A friend ain’t what I’d call her. She tried to kill me last time I saw her.”
”Well she isn’t exactly your biggest fan, Cooper.”
The Ghoul held your gaze. He didn’t want to go all the way to Alma’s. It was out of the way and would just tack more time on to the trip. Not to mention, he didn’t want Alma involved. But with Lucy’s new injury, you really didn’t have a choice.
”I reckon we’re goin’ to Alma’s.”
”Come on, Lucy.” You moved to stand on her right side to provide her support while she walked.
***
Six Hours Later
It was dark by the time you arrived at your destination. It was in what used to be a suburban neighborhood but many of the houses had long since been abandoned. You passed by one derelict house after another, eyes carefully scanning broken windows and rubble for any signs of danger. You knew the danger would be limited as Alma was in charge of most of the raiders in the area, but sometimes the raiders were a little rowdy and eager to attack.
There was one house that stood a little better than those around it. Its windows were mostly boarded up and there was a barbed wire fence around it. The siding of the house had long since lost its original color, instead taking on a more rusty brown color. The right side of the roof to the front porch had fallen in and it made the house appear unsafe to enter.
You stopped at the fence and let Lucy go.
“You two stay out here for just a moment.” Your eyes flickered back to Cooper. He nodded once in acknowledgement.
You slipped between the barbed fencing and then climbed the creaky wooden stairs. Just as you were about to knock on the door, it was pulled open.
An older woman stood in the doorway, a shotgun by her side. Her dark but graying hair was put up in some sort of high mess atop her head. Behind large lensed wire framed glasses were two big brown eyes.
“Icy May. Ain’t no way in hell I thought I’d be seein’ you again.” The shotgun in her hand was leaned against the wall on the inside of the house.
“Hello, Alma.” You smiled, embracing her tightly. “It’s good to see you.”
”You too, dear. So good to see such a pretty face.” She pulled away to get a better look at you. “You look all in one piece. What brings you all the way out this way, darlin?”
”I have a huge favor to ask you.” You stepped aside so that Alma could see the two who traveled with you.
Alma leaned forward, eyes squinting as she struggled to see whoever it was even with her glasses on.
“Oh hell, Icy May.” She shook her head, adjusting the old cardigan that she wore.
“Well ain’t it my favorite old maid.” Cooper spoke, giving Lucy a nudge to go through the fence. Lucy slipped between two of the barbed wires and nervously started for the stairs.
“Shut the hell up, you old bastard. I still haven’t gotten over what you did last time you was here.” Alma nodded her head to the side of the porch that had fallen in.
“I happen to think it made this place look better. More welcomin’.”
”Well I ain’t trying to be more welcomin’.” Alma put her hands on her hips. Her eyes followed Lucy as she struggled to get up the stairs. “What in the hell is this, Icy? A vault dweller?”
”It’s a long story, Alma.” You shook your head. “We just need to rest for the night.”
Her eyes flickered up to you, hesitating. A vault dweller could mean big trouble.
”Aw, what the hell.” She threw her hands in the air and turned to go into her house. She picked up the shotgun she had left by the door.
You offered Lucy your shoulder once again and walked with her to the living room.
The house wasn’t as bad on the inside as it was on the outside. Wallpaper was peeling off of the walls and in some places, it was missing all together. There was a fireplace that had been filled up with rocks. A sofa, which had definitely seen better days, was in the living room. Beside it was a rocking chair and a little end table. It appeared as though the end table was a combination of two different tables put together.
“You have a lovely home.” Lucy complimented.
Alma shook her head, swatting a hand at the Vaultie.
“There’s food in the pantry and water in the washroom down the hall. You’d better get cleaned up and settled for the night. It’s already late.”
”Thank you, Alma.” You offered her a little smile. “We’ll be gone when the sun rises.”
”Better be. Don’t want Howard fuckin’ anything up anymore than he got to.”
“Missed you too, ya old bat.” Cooper muttered.
You took Lucy to the washroom and left her there, then you went to the kitchen. Cooper was already helping himself to the pantry. He sat at the kitchen table with a can of some sort of nonperishable food.
“There’s the couch in the living room and there’s two rooms with mattresses.” Alma told you. She moved around the kitchen, gathering up a canteen and a pack of cigarettes.
”Where are you scurryin’ off to?” Cooper asked her.
”I ain’t scurryin’ nowhere, asshole. It’s past my bedtime and you bunch look worse than the backside of a feral hog.” Alma stopped at you to give you a one armed hug. “We’ll talk in the mornin’, honey.”
”Good night, Alma.”
”Night, girly.”
You watched her leave the kitchen then listened to the floorboards creak as she disappeared down the hallway.
“You should eat somethin’.” Cooper spoke. You rubbed his shoulder before moving to pull a chair up beside him.
“I will.”
It felt nice to finally be able to sit down. Your feet hurt and you were exhausted.
Cooper leaned forward to give your knee a squeeze. Your eyes flickered up to meet his gaze.
***
A little while later, Lucy had retired to the room she was going to be staying in. You and Cooper would be sharing the other mattress in the room across the hall from Lucy.
You made your way down the hallway, doing your best to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to disturb Alma.
You came to a stop in the doorway of Lucy’s room, watching her as she sat on the edge of the mattress . She was in the process of eating a can of peaches when she noticed you were standing in the door.
“Oh, um…” She quickly swallowed a peach and held the can out towards you. “Do you want a peach?”
”No, thank you.” You shook your head. “Alma is a good friend of mine.”
”Oh, yeah! She’s incredible. Super nice person.”
”Can I trust you to be here, Lucy?”
She stopped eating the peaches and directed her attention to you.
“She’s taking a big risk letting us stay here for the night. If anything happened to her while we were here….” You trailed off. “Alma’s one of the last few good people out here.”
She nodded her head softly, understanding what you were telling her.
”So do I have to keep an eye on you or can I trust you?”
”You can trust me.”
You weren’t sure you completely believed her.
“Good.” You turned to leave but she stopped you.
“Thank you, Icy. For…. For everything.”
You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.
“You need to stop thanking me.”
“You’ve practically saved my life by showing up. Who knows what that man would’ve done with me if you hadn’t come along.”
You gazed at her for a few moments, her bright blue eyes still filled with some sort of kindness. It wasn’t often that you came across those kinds of people.
“Good night, Lucy.”
“Oh, uh good night, Icy.” Lucy was confused with your sudden ending of the conversation. That seemed to be a trait of yours.
You moved down the hallway, your quiet footsteps still making the floorboards squeak.
Cooper was in the room the two of you would be sharing. He had taken off his bandolier, holster belt, and duster coat. All items had been placed in a pile at the foot of the mattress. The ghoul was lounging across the mattress with his breather in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and his shoulders leaning up against your backpack. One knee was bent and that was where his hat rested.
His eyes watched as you took off most of your layers. First it was your jacket, then the old flannel, and tattered sweatshirt. You were left in cargo pants, boots, and a thin brown tank top that had definitely seen better days. You pulled your hair out of the ponytail it was in to fix it up for the night.
“My, my, my. Ain’t you a sight fit for kings.”
I tried to bite back the smile that crept across your face but it was no use.
“Keep the charming to yourself, old man. We need to get some sleep.” You sat down on the mattress facing the ghoul. You leaned your torso against his bent leg, picking up his hat and placing it on your head.
He offered you the cigarette, which you gladly took. His breather was discarded on the floor beside the mattress.
You inhaled and held the chemicals in your lungs for a few moments. As you exhaled, Cooper brought his hand up to cup your face. His thumb, calloused and rough, traced your bottom lip.
You let him do so, your eyes steadily watching his face.
He traced the curve of your bottom lip, then used his fingertips to trail along your cheekbone and your temple. He brushed a few pieces of hair back out of your face.
”So what’s your big plan once we get to Hank MacLean?”
The ghoul paused for a moment, pulling his hand away from your face to rest it on his chest. You passed the cigarette back to him and he took it.
”I want to know what happened to them.” He was quiet as to not let his voice carry throughout the otherwise silent house.
You nodded your head. Cooper waited for you to speak. He waited, and waited, and waited. But you said nothing. All you could do was gaze down at one of the buttons on his shirt. The original button, which had been a light shade of brown, was torn off some time ago but you recall sewing a dark green button in its place.
“Say somethin’, doll.” He urged you, tapping the side of your leg gently.
You bit the inside of your cheek, finishing off the cigarette with a deep inhale.
“I hope you find the answers you’re looking for, sweetheart.” You put the cigarette out on the soul of your boot and started to move, wanting to reposition yourself. Cooper stopped you from moving, his hand grabbing yours.
“I just…. I have to find out, Icy.”
”I know.” You murmured softly with a nod of your head. “I’d want to know too, if I was in your place.”
It wasn’t like the two of you were in a full fledged relationship where one of you had asked the other to commit to you, but it also wasn’t casual. Cooper Howard didn’t do casual. It was far too hard to trust someone enough for that sort of thing.
”Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about it.” He put his head back, his hand steadily rubbing your leg as he directed his eyes to the ceiling. “I mean, if MacLean has been able to live this long, then there’s a chance…. even the smallest of one…. that they could be out there.”
You smiled a little, though it was sad and didn’t reach your eyes. If you believed in a higher power, you would pray to them to make it all true, to make his hopes and desires a reality. It was what he deserved after all that he had been through.
Though you wanted to be happy for him, your chest tightened a little with the idea of him finding his family. What would happen to you if he found his wife and his daughter?
You reached out to take his hand away from your leg, clasping your fingers together tightly.
“I hope they are.” You brought his hand up to kiss the inside of his wrist.
Cooper watched you kiss his wrist once, then twice before holding his hand in your lap. He didn’t let you linger in your thoughts for too long. He pulled you down towards him, making you lay down beside him.
“It’s nothin’ but wishful thinking.” He thought out loud.
“Sometimes that’s all that keeps us going.”
***
The Next Morning
Lucy made her way out of her room, using the wall for support as she limped down the hallway. She peered into the living room and found it empty. Her next stop was the kitchen.
The Ghoul sat at the kitchen table, which was covered in an assortment of junk. He was wiping off one of his hand guns.
Lucy looked around the kitchen, hoping and praying she’d find you or Alma.
Cooper glanced up at the vault dweller, very briefly meeting her gaze before looking back down at his weapons.
“Oh, um…. Good morning.” Lucy greeted him in an attempt to be friendly, but friendly wasn’t Cooper Howard’s thing.
He stayed silent.
Lucy leaned against the doorway to take her weight off of her ankle.
”Is Icy up yet?”
”She went out with Alma.” His answer was short and stiff.
“Oh, okay.” Lucy nodded her head.
She stood there for a few moments awkwardly. Should she just go back to the bedroom and hideout until you and Alma returned?
Oh, what the heck.
Lucy limped over to the table and pulled out a bulky wooden chair to sit in. She sighed in relief as she sat down. She examined the amount of junk on the table, curious as to what exactly everything was.
It wasn’t long before Lucy became bored and found herself watching the ghoul that had taken her hostage.
“So…. Is your name Cooper? Or is it Howard? Because, well, I heard Icy call you one and Alma called you another. So I guess I’m just a little confused.” She chuckled nervously.
”My name don’t matter to you, Vaultie.” He sat the handgun down on the table then picked up a shotgun.
“Well I’d like to have something to call you when I talk to you, to have a conversation like real people do.”
”Ah, but who said I wanted to have a conversation with you?”
Lucy pressed her lips together. This man was awfully hard to get along with.
”That’s fair, I guess.” She nodded.
Silence fell between the two as Cooper continued to clean the gun. Once he was finished cleaning the sawed off shotgun, he began to load it.
Lucy sighed, bored out of her mind. Cooper wasn’t entertaining at all. She messed with the cuff on her suit to try to keep herself occupied and to try to keep her mouth shut for a little bit longer.
“Do you love her?” The question kind of just came out without Lucy really realizing what she had said.
Cooper dropped the bullet that he was trying to shove into his gun. It made a loud banging noise as it hit the floor.
“What in the hell did you just say to me, Miss MacLean?” He looked at her, his eyes dark and sharpened.
The use of her name made Lucy feel on edge. He had always just called her Vaultie.
“I-I was just— I just see the way you guys are with each other. I didn’t mean it in-in a bad way, you know?”
The ghoul was silent as he held her gaze. He leaned forward to retrieve the bullet from the ground. He shoved it into the gun and placed the gun on the table.
The front door to the house creaked open. Lucy turned her head to see. You and Alma walking in.
“How’d you sleep, honey?” Alma put her hand on Lucy’s shoulder. The vault dweller opened her mouth to answer but Alma spoke over her. “Howard, if you don’t get your damn guns off my table, I’m gonna beat the piss outta you.”
Cooper didn’t offer any sort of smart comment back. He just picked up each gun and tucked them into their appropriate holster.
“I slept well, thank you. Where, uh, where did you guys go?” Lucy asked, turning her attention to you.
“Had to make a run early this morning.” You placed your backpack on the table, pushing some of the junk back so you had space. You rummaged through the bag before pulling out a stimpack. ”How’s your ankle feeling?”
”Really bad, actually. It’s super sore and looks very bruised.” Lucy eyed the giant needle at the end of the stimpack. “What’s, um, what’s that for?”
”You’re ankle. You can’t travel with a busted ankle and we can’t stay here.”
”But what is it?”
”A stimpack. It will heal your ankle up enough to get you back on your feet.”
With no warning, Cooper stood up and left the room rather hastily. Old floorboards creaked beneath the weight of his worn boots.
“What crawled up his ass?” Alma pushed her glasses back on to her head to hold her hair back out of her eyes.
“I don’t know.” You hummed. You listened to him move around in one of the back bedrooms.
He wasn’t a chatty person by any means, but surely he would’ve greeted you and Alma with some sort of witty remark. And you were very positive he would’ve given Alma an asinine remark about his guns on her table.
“What happened while we were gone?” You turned your attention to Lucy.
“I-I was just trying to talk with him.” She put her hands up, shaking her head.
“And…. Boy is he difficult to have a conversation with.”
You sighed heavily. Why couldn’t the vaultie get it through her head that sometimes she needed to shut up?
“I’ll be back in a second, Alma.” You looked over to your friend before going down the hallway to the bedroom Cooper was in.
He stood leaning against the side of the open window. He was fidgeting with his breather, replacing the empty vial with a full one.
”You leave me with that girl again, woman, and you’re gonna be scrapin’ what’s left of her brain off of Alma’s walls.” He grumbled.
You pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of your jacket.
“She’s got a way of getting under your skin.” You put the cigarette between your lips and tucked the carton away, then pulled out a lighter. “What’d she say?”
”Don’t matter.” He took a puff of the breather. You held the cigarette out to him and he gladly took it, crossing the room and closing the space between the two of you in just a few strides.
You watched as he put the cigarette in his mouth and took a deep drag from him.
“I’ll fuckin’ gut her like a pig next time she tries to talk to me.”
”You don’t mean that.” You shook your head gently.
He exhaled the cigarette smoke right into your face, then took another quick puff of it.
”Like hell I don’t.”
You took the cigarette from between his fingers.
“She means well.”
Cooper watched you, his gaze still hard and angry. You inhaled the cigarette.
“What did she say to you, Cooper?” Your voice was quiet.
He looked down at you for a while. Then let out a breath and adjusted the hat on his head, casting his eyes downward to his boots.
”We need to be leavin’.”
Without another word, the Ghoul slipped past you to go down the hallway.
taglist: @green--beanie @mack-attack420 @miniemonie2001 @eykismyfav @fallout-girl219 (I think I tagged anyone but I’m so sorry if I missed you!)
#fallout#fallout tv series#the ghoul fallout#the ghoul#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard fallout#cooper howard fic#the ghoul cooper howard#queenxxxsupreme
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My friend showed me this video from L&DS and now I’m quite insane, delirious, unwell imagining it with old man Bakugou😫
Thinking about retired Pro-Hero Dynamight, who just wants a quiet drink in his local old man pub. Sitting at the bar as he nurses his whiskey, neat.
Any and all chances of peace swiftly snatched from his clutches when a rowdy hen party enters, unable to get into one of the main bars and clubs along the high street. Groaning into his glass when the bride orders a round of shots, definitely readying himself to leave early.
Until you catch his eye— a bright pink “maid of honour” sash wrapped around your frame as you wear a hideous pink tiara on your head, a flushed glow to your cheeks from the liquor already flowing through your veins from long before you found this quaint pub. Giving him a small smile when you notice him staring, and following your friend group to your table.
Bakugou surprises himself when he orders himself another drink, staying in this loud chaos when he’d probably be better off drinking at home. Continuing to observe you from afar. You’re definitely too young for him, too cute and pretty, and definitely not interested in an old man like him— but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the view.
Until you pass him on your way back from the bathroom, sliding into the barstool beside him as you twist your body to face him. The same smile on your face as he leans back slightly to meet your gaze, “You lost, sweetheart?”
“Hi to you too,” You laugh, light and airy. It has Bakugou’s heart racing as it seems to flow directly into his bloodstream, “Drinking alone on a Saturday night isn’t fun.”
Bakugou motions to the barman to bring him another whiskey, turning to face you to ask what you want to drink. And it’s cute the way you seem genuinely thankful that he’s buying you a drink, not like most that’ll hit up every man in the bar.
“You can come and join us if you want,” You grin, picking up the drink to cheers against his whiskey glass (a glass that he doesn’t bother to cheers back— just leaves it sat on top of the bar) “No fun drinking alone.”
“Not sure I’ll fit in,” It’s the first smile you manage to get from him the entire night, “And I ain’t a stripper.”
“Well, you could be,” You laugh, “You’re hot.”
And Bakugou feels his cock buck at your admission, a rush of blood surging directly between his thighs as he adjusts himself on top of the stool.
“C‘mon,” You push, “You can’t sit alone all night, that’s so boring.”
“Ya don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, sipping at his drink as he tries to stop the saccharine scent of your perfume invading his senses and causing him to loose all sense of control.
“Okay, how about a game of pool?” You try, “I can’t remember the last time I went to a bar that had one!”
“Play with your friends.” You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a statement as you lean in closer to him, your breasts skimming the side of his arm as you pout your glossy lips.
“They don’t wanna play with me,” And Bakugou has to hide the groan that threatens to spill from his throat at the implication, “And you look like you know how to play.”
“Yeah,” He scoffs, standing up from the stool as you realise just how tall he is, “Do you?”
“I dunno,” You hum, “Maybe you need to remind me.”
There’s a certain way he picks the cue up, his scarred palms wrapping around the length of it as his forearms flex when he chalks the tip that has you rubbing your thighs together. Taking a sip of your drink to hide how you’re blatantly ogling him now, holding it out for you to take when he’s done as he grabs another for himself.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart.”
And of course your first shot would be awful— it’s been too long since you last played, you’re far too intoxicated to focus— and you’re not even sure it’s the alcohol.
His large form steps behind you as you feel the slightest hint of pudge in his round chest as his arms encircle you to hold the cue. Pressing your back against his chest as he moves your form on the table, keeping your arms apart and your legs spread until you feel it— unable to conceal the blatant moan that spills from your lips when you feel his semi press against the swell of your ass. And suddenly you don’t give a fuck about pool.
His stubble tickles the side of your face as he whispers “good girl” into your ear, his lips graze the shell of it before he pulls back as though nothing happened. The scent of his sweat mixed with whatever aftershave he’s wearing lingers around you as you use the length of the cue to keep yourself upright, shaking on wobbly heels as you lick your glossed lips.
And you’re certain you won’t survive as you watch him walk around the table to follow the white ball, leaning over the table as he takes aim and pots a red into the corner.
“So what do I get when I win?”
#bakugou thirst#thirst posts#Jo thirsts#idk where I was going with this honestly I’m just INSANE!!!!!
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Insomnia
AN: Sixth and final fic for @moonknight-events' MK Bingo! I wish I'd been able to do the entire board like I wanted but alas. Hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @whatthefishh for looking this over for me ❤️
Steven can't sleep and you, uh, help him out.
(Un-beta’d)
Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned)
Prompt: Handjobs
Words: 1,233
Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader (pretty sure this could be read as GN, please let me know if that's incorrect)
Warnings: handjob (as the prompt indicates lol), cursing, kissing, mild biting, praise kink, sub!Steven, please let me know if I missed anything.
AO3
——————
Steven can’t sleep.
He’s tried everything he can think of, his usual tried and true methods (and even some of the old ones), but none of them have worked.
He chews his lip, glancing over to where you’re asleep beside him. You look so relaxed, so peaceful, your lovely lips quirked in a slight smile. He wonders what you’re dreaming about (was it him?)...wishes he could be dreaming too. The urge to wake you is strong, you’ve told him before that he can when this happens, but he just can’t bring himself to disturb you.
Steven sighs, turning over on his side. He closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.
That doesn’t work either.
He tosses and turns, trying to find a comfortable position, one that will finally allow him to fall into the blissful depths of sleep but, no matter what he does, nothing helps. He feels even worse when you begin to stir beside him, whining softly as you’re unwillingly pulled back to consciousness. He stills, trying not to move (or even breathe) in the hopes that you’ll fall back into the abyss.
“Steven?” you ask, voice still thick with sleep.
He waits silently for a moment, then sighs, turning slightly to look at you over his shoulder.
“So sorry, love, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” you slur, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
You push yourself up into a sitting position, eyes meeting his in the darkness as you reach out to gently push the curls back from his forehead. “Trouble sleeping again?”
Steven nods, his eyelids fluttering at your touch.
“How can I help?”
He smiles tiredly at you. “Not sure you can, love.”
You stick your bottom lip out in a pout and he chuckles softly, reaching out to thumb at it. “S’alright, I’ll be fine. You should go back to sleep though.”
You shake your head, settling your back against the headboard. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re awake beside me.”
With a resigned sigh, Steven sits up to join you.
“I’m so sorry, love,” he says again, taking your hand in his and squeezing it lightly.
You shush him, effectively dismissing his apologies. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
Steven just sighs again, his shoulder pressed against yours as he idly runs his thumb over your knuckles. You sit in silence for a moment, just watching him, the meager light in the room softening his sharper features.
Then it dawns on you, how you can help.
You lean in slowly, tilting your head to get the right angle. He doesn’t notice how close you are until you’re right there, inches away from his face, and before he can protest, you press your lips to his. Immediately, he melts, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek. You start slow, soft, the pressure gentle, the pace unhurried. After a moment, you brush your tongue along the seam of his lips, his low groan sending a shiver through your body. He’s always so responsive, your Steven, whether it’s a moan or a simple flutter of his eyelashes, he always lets you know how you’re making him feel.
You kiss him deeper, languidly licking into his mouth, your fingers clenching in the fabric of his t-shirt as his tongue slides against yours. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, in him, in the taste of him, the feel of him—but then you remember why you started this, remember that he needs you. You relax your fingers, allowing your hand to slip slowly down his chest, over his belly, coming to settle at his waist. Your fingers briefly toy with the band of his sleep pants before slipping beneath them and his boxers.
Steven breaks your kiss with a surprised yelp as you take him in your hand, his breath leaving him in a sharp gasp as you begin to gently work your hand over his length. You shush him, whispering soothing words into his skin as you kiss him wherever your lips can reach.
“Oh fuck,” he breathes, involuntarily arching into your touch.
You respond with a whispered plea for him to relax, your thumb sliding over the velvety tip of him, dragging the prettiest moan from his lips. He stops resisting then, losing himself in the pleasure of your touch, rewarding you on every stroke with breathy sighs and groans.
“So good for me, Steven,” you whisper, the praise drawing a whimper from between his lips.
You smile at the sound, tracing his collarbones with the tip of your tongue as you twist your wrist just so, dragging another delicious sound from him. He pushes up into your fist, his fingers twisting in the bedding beneath him. You move back up his neck, nipping briefly at his jugular and soothing the area with your tongue. Beside you, Steven’s breathing is erratic, his skin hot, hips thrusting in time with the stroke of your hand. You pull back to gaze at him, admiring his mussed curls, kiss-bitten lips, and glassy eyes—he always was beautiful in the throes.
You lean in again, sealing your lips over a spot on his neck. He keens when you suck, your hand gently squeezing his cock to mimic the pressure. You move your hand a little faster, increasing the friction, and his breath hitches, hands now fisted in the sheets beneath him.
“Darling,” he pants, his neck tense with the effort of holding himself back.
You shush him again, pulling back to meet his gaze. He’s close, so close, his big brown eyes pleading—for you, for your love, for your permission.
You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him, eyes flickering over his face, drinking him in as your touch pushes him closer and closer to the edge. When you’ve teased him enough, you lean in, nuzzling your nose against his ear.
“Come for me, Steven.”
And he does, his body going rigid, as he erupts all over your fist with a choked moan. You keep working him, his body twitching as the pleasure rolls through him. When he finally stills, you release him, whispering your praise as you press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. He’s absolutely wrecked when you pull back, body limp against the headboard, panting like he’s just run a marathon. You smile at him softly, pushing the curls from his damp forehead with your clean hand before slipping off the bed to get a washcloth.
Once you’ve cleaned both yourself and him up, you settle back in the bed beside him. For a moment, you wonder if he’s already asleep, his eyes closed, breathing (finally) even. He stirs at the movement beside him though, his eyelids heavy as he opens them and smiles at you dreamily.
“Your turn, Love,” he slurs, reaching out for you despite his inability to keep his eyes open for more than 3 seconds.
You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, Steven.”
“But—”
“Sleep,” you insist, yawning as you pull him down with you beneath the blankets.
Steven grunts in protest, but doesn’t stop you, his eyes already falling shut again as you snuggle against his side. You smile as his breathing evens out again, the gentle rhythm of it lulling you back to sleep.
If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖
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#my fic#moon knight bingo#steven grant x you#steven grant x reader#steven grant fanfic#steven grant fic#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#steven grant smut#moon knight smut
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Jealous Emilia after they get together plss I am beggingggg cook this for us plssssss 🙏🙏🙏
Not me rewriting this no less than four times and still hating it 😂 but it’s not going to get any better haha. This was hard to write because I actually don’t see Emilia as the jealous type. I kind of drew off a lot of her known insecurities and alluded to her kind of struggling with the “wag” role a bit so it’s not just her reacting poorly to Max being fawned over by a girl because I don’t think that would be true to her character. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
✨Set in Jeddah 2024✨
And I’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you
If there’s one thing to be said for the Jeddah paddock, it’s pretty at sunset. You watch people moving through the paddock bathed in golden light. The ground looks like the yellow brick road. Even though it’s getting cooler now as it gets closer to qualifying, you still choose to sit inside Red Bull hospitality. You’re also sitting inside because Max said he wanted to hang out before quail. Even though he’s spent the last forty-five minutes talking to one of the hospitality guests.
Amy, something or other. She races GT cars in some series you’ve never heard of. You’re not sure what connections got her the invite to the garage but Max had been herded away by one of the media reps to take pictures with her so she must be someone’s daughter. They seem to have hit it off, you note. He’s in full maxplaining mode, bending down to the line of his own hand as he illustrates what looks like an apex. Amy isn’t even watching his hands, she’s watching Max. Hazel eyes just sparkling as she memorises every inch of him. Yeah, you know that look well enough.
And it’s not that you mind. He likes to talk racing, he likes racers. It’s not like you know what it feels like to driver a car at top speed, and more importantly you don’t want to know. The hot laps with Max were more than enough. You can’t be everything to him and you don’t need to be. You tell yourself you don’t want to be. It’s good he has other people to talk to, because it’s not like you can ever really understand his competitive streak. The man who knows nothing except how to win will not always be able to relate to the girl who has always been too afraid to lose.
No, it’s not bothering you that Max is talking to her. It’s bothering you that she has the most obvious crush on him since…no, actually, this is the most obvious crush ever. She’s played with her hair so many times you just know karma is going to make her bald someday. You hope you’re there somehow.
“Hey,”
You jump at the sound of Checo’s voice. He sits down at the end of the table, brandishing Kitkat, which he slides over to you.
“Max has made a new friend,” he says, nodding in Max’s direction.
You tear open the wrapper with far too much aggression. “So I see,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“She races, right?”
You nod, biting into the chocolate. “GT, apparently,”
“Lots in common,” Checo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “You have to watch your back,”
You know he’s joking. You know that in no universe are you in competition with her. And yet, his words sink under your skin under your blood is curdling at the sight of Max laughing at something Amy says.
“I don’t have to watch anything,” you say with shrug, turning towards Checo. “If she can take him she can have him.” You push your hair over one shoulder and run your tongue over your teeth.
“Whoa,” Checo chuckles, throwing his hands up like he’s being faced with a hungry lion. You suppose since he has a wife, he knows the look well enough. “I was joking.” When you don’t react, he shakes his head. “It’s Max,”
You know what he means. It’s Max, not Chuck Leclerc. It’s Max, not Danny Ric. It’s Max, not Checo. But it’s Max. You don’t have to worry he’s going to lose his mind over the actresses or supermodels, but he sure seems to be respectfully admiring his female alter ego.
It’s like he can sense you thinking about him, it’s uncanny, really. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him walking towards your table with Amy in tow.
Fake smile, it’s fine, she’s just a fan.
Max introduces you, and you smile and shake her hand and ask her if she having a nice day, because you’re Max’s girlfriend, so you owe it to him to be polite. She has no such obligation, although you might be imagining her flinch when Max says the word girlfriend.
“I think it’s the best day of my life,” she says in answer to your question. The telltale flicker of her eyes in Max’s direction as they sit down almost making you roll yours.
Max doesn’t notice, he’s more interested in taking your Kitkat out of your hand and taking a bite. He bites it so that all four sticks have the end missing and you wear you’ve never been so disgusted by this man. For a second, you think Amy can have him.
“Amy races GT cars, like the ones we tested in Portugal,” he says to you now, his hand disappearing under the table to rest on your thigh and trace circles with his thumb like it’s a habit. “We are just talking about setting up a test for her with Verstappen com,”
Oh, great. So not only is she utterly bewitched by the ocean eyes, you’re making her dreams come true. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Ah,” is all you say, sharing a look with a smirking Checo.
“That would really be such a dream come true,” Amy says, and you almost laugh. “I’m a big fan of yours, I think it’s so cool that you’re involved with things outside formula one. You should come to a race sometime. I owe you paddock passes,”
You met him three hours ago, and he isn’t even the one who invited you. Do you owe him a blowjob as well, Amy?
“Yeah. Our schedule is a bit hectic but yeah, it would be good to fit that in soon,” Max says, turning to you. “Right?”
What am I? The secretary? Because in case you didn’t notice, she didn’t fucking invite me.
You just shrug.
“GT racing doesn’t exactly draw the influencer crowd,” you are definitely not imagining the way her eyes slide over to you before she looks back at Max to say, “it’s really good racing,”
You zone out right then and there. It’s like your brain short circuits from the energy it’s taking not to reach over, grab this girl by her stringy extensions, and rip. If she and Max keep talking, you don’t hear it. You don’t want to hear it. You notice Checo noticing your discomfort, even as he engages the other two in conversation. For all his quirks, Checo reads human behaviour much better than Max. Though you don’t need to be a body language expert to see how much this girl likes him.
She looking at him like she wants to eat him, hanging on unspoken words, fingers twitching on the table like she’s desperate to touch him. And he’s nodding along, because they’re so aligned that whatever she says he agrees with, and the maxplaining is one-handed now but no less enthusiastic, and you’re about to dig your nails into his skin because he is not going to have one hand almost up your skirt while another woman is flirting with him.
All these thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of one of the Red Bull media managers.
“Amy, we were hoping to get some pictures of you with the car, if you’re free?”
“Yeah, sure, one second,” she says, turning to Max. “Which way is the garage again?” Like she doesn’t have someone who clearly just came from the garage standing right next to her.
“Just through there, keep going straight,” Max says, pointing to the corridor with engineers walking in and out. You give the girl the benefit of the doubt that she’s not that stupid, just desperate.
Reluctantly, she gets to her feet. “So, I’ll give you a call to set up the test?”
“Yeah, sure,” Max says. “Or you can call Raymond. He’ll put your team in touch with the right people,”
“Okay, awesome,” she says, leaning down enough that you can see right down her shirt. “It was really great to meet you. And I meant it about the GT race,” and then, as if remembering she can’t be rude, she glances at Checo. “You guys, too,”
You wave her off, and your smile doesn’t even fall. Because it’s funny. It’s funny that a grown woman would behave like that in front of a man’s girlfriend. It’s funny that a woman gunning for sponsorship would behave like you does regular shifts in something called the “Champagne Room”.
And it’s absolutely hilarious that Max turns to you, without a care in the world, and says, “I’ve got such a headache. I stood up into the cupboard in the garage, it hurt so bad,”
You give him tight smile and pull out your phone to text Lily to see if she’s still with Alex or if she’s free for a catch up.
“What?” You hear Max say above you. You ignore him. “What? She the-“ You look up just in time to see that Checo is mouthing something to Max. “Jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” you snap, leaning back in the your chair to glare at both of them. They give each a mocking grin. “Yeah, very funny,” this sets them off snickering like school kids. “Fuck both of you.”
You get up and stalk through the room and back towards the garage. You don’t even know what you’ll do when you get there since being Max’s girlfriend had put an end to you just wandering down the pitlane and allowed in any garage. Maybe you’ll just try and find GP. If Max doesn’t catch up to you first. You can hear him calling you.
“Leibling, wait,” he’s right behind you now, and you hear him almost stumbling as he leans forward to catch you by the wrist.
You shrug him off, but stop at the door to his driver room and push it open, jerking your head to order him inside. He may be a dick, but he still deserve for the whole team to know his business. He steps into the room, reaching for your waist but you move out of his way and leave him to close the door while you lean against the physio table on the other side of the room.
He sighs when he sees how you’re looking at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. I mean, I did. Not at you. I didn’t think Checo was being serious,” he defends, and by the end of his sentence he’s fighting an incredulous smile and you squeeze the edge of the physio bench to stop yourself pulling your hair. Or his.
How can this guy understand complex tyre strategy but not basic human interaction?
“You didn’t think he was serious that I was annoyed by someone flirting with you in front of me?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. “And that I wouldn’t be annoyed at you making fun of me for it?”
Max scoffs. “She wasn’t flirting with me,”
“Oh, please.” You let out a scoff of your own. “You didn’t notice me flirting with you for three years, do not pretend you’re an expert,”
“I noticed,” Max argues, “I just didn’t take it seriously,”
“Which is why you have no leg to stand on,”
“Right, because I was just supposed to believe that you suddenly-“
“It wasn’t exactly sudden-“
“For God’s sake,” Max groans, an expression of abject confusion twisting his face. “What are we even fighting about?”
“You enjoying Lella Lombardi over there slobber all over you, and enjoying it,” the exasperation gets worse when Max’s eyes widen like this is the first he’s hearing of this entire discussion.
“I’m- she- what?” He splutters, his head shaking in disbelief. “Is this one of those Tiktok pranks?”
“I get that she’s a pilot and that makes her automatically interesting, but until I hear otherwise, you’re still in a relationship,”
Max looks at you like you’ve grown a second head; shock, concern, and a good amount of unadulterated disgust. “You can’t think I was looking at her…like that,”
The way he says it, like he’s afraid to catch cooties, like it’s it’s inconceivable, like you didn’t still have bruises of your hips in the shape of his fingertips, takes all the fight out of you. Checo was right; it’s Max. It’s feels like someone’s let all the air out of a balloon. Your shoulders slump and you sigh.
“Because that would be crazy?” You lift yourself onto the physio bench as you speak. You’re not even really sure what you’re asking. “Max Verstappen, who likes only one thing on earth, that one thing being racing, attracted to another driver rather than his influencer accessory girlfriend?”
“Actually, I like two things,” he says with that boyish smirk that has been making your stomach do backflips for longer than you care to admit.
“Stop laughing at me,” you whine, fighting the urge to smile.
“I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that she upset you. I’m sorry that I upset you,” he says, taking a careful step closer to you, but he stops there. “Even if I don’t know what I did,”
He really has no idea. He is painfully, adorably clueless.
“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know either. Sometimes it’s just inexplicably overwhelming being Max Verstappen’s girlfriend. “Just you being you, I guess,”
Max frowns at that. “I didn’t know being myself was so offensive,” he mumbles, and you instantly feel guilty. You of all people shouldn’t make him feel bad for how much space he takes up. You of all people know how much that bothers him.
“No, it’s not that. It’s not-“ you struggle for a way to explain it. Max takes the opportunity to cross the rest of the room and stand in front of you, his expression telling you he’s waiting for you to finish. “It’s not about who you are, but sometimes the way people act around you is just…and you’re so used to it, you don’t even…you just forget who you are sometimes, Max,”
He nods soberly. “Yeah. I do, and I’m sorry,” he says. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls your legs apart and slots between them as he drags you to the edge of the bench so that you’re pressed against him, leaning back to look up at him. “But I never forget who you are, which is the most important bit,”
You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so simple. And not because he’s unintelligent, but because he’s guileless, because who he is has never scared him. He smiles back, and it’s unguarded and unbridled and you almost forgive that girl because you’ll be damned if you don’t have a crush on him, too.
“Was she really flirting with me?” He asks curiously, looking down as his hands find your and entwine your fingers.
“Oh, yeah,” you say, and he frowns, the wheels working in head as he tries to figure out how he didn’t notice. “Like me at your mum’s on Christmas Eve in 2020 level of obvious,”
“Well,” he says with a huff. “She just blew her chance at a test,”
“You don’t have to-“
“Wait, you were flirting with me at Christmas at my mum’s?”
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the house of snow (17) ✧ coriolanus snow
the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3
pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader
series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.
chapter summary: finally, you enjoy your honeymoon.
word count: 1,417
series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later
chapter warnings?: another short chapter im so sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, sexual references, implied smut, pet name (petal), not proofread
Light streamed in through the window as the sun began to rise. Coryo’s pale blonde hair almost seemed to glow. You reached up, brushing a strand away from his face. He looked so soft like this. He looked a lot softer generally now. Could this be the almighty honeymoon phase of a relationship blinding you to his flaws? No, you mused. Coryo had always been different around you. Before, you thought it was out of distaste, but now you knew the truth.
You ran your thumb over the swell of his cheek. This was nice. You understood why Coryo always liked to touch you. There was something so sweet about it. Something so intimate, knowing that no one else will ever touch him like this. A smile tugged at your lips. You scooted closer, kissing him softly. You couldn’t help it.
“Now who’s accosting who?” Coryo teased, his eyes still shut.
You pressed another kiss to his lips. “What? I can’t kiss my husband?”
Coryo’s hands settled on your waist. He rolled over onto his back, pulling you over so you laid on top of him. “If you promise to wake me up like this every morning, you can kiss me whenever you like.”
“Deal,” you giggled.
Finally, Coryo opened his eyes. He reached up, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. He smiled up at you, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “What are you doing awake so early? The point of a honeymoon is to relax.”
“I was admiring my husband. Is that not also the point of a honeymoon?”
Coryo pulled you down for another kiss. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You held back a giggle as you remembered where else that tongue had been—how your Coryo spent the entire night between your legs until you begged for mercy. Coryo’s fingers carded through your hair, tugging you closer. Your nose bumped against his. This time, you did giggle.
“You think my kissing technique is funny?” Coryo chided. His tone was playful, though. A far cry from the boy you thought you knew on the schoolyard.
“I think I am lucky to have such a loving man for a husband.”
“Don’t try to distract me. You laughed as I kissed you,” he said. You leaned in to kiss him, but this time he let out a sarcastic laugh as your lips touched his. “Doesn’t feel very good, does it, petal?”
“You are a spiteful man, Mr. Snow. You don’t even know why I laughed.”
“Tell me then.”
You pet Coryo’s hair, a soft smile on your lips. It was a stark contrast to the wetness you felt between your legs as you recalled the memory of last night. “I was thinking of where else that filthy tongue of yours has been.”
Coryo’s eyes fell shut. You felt him stiffen against your thigh. Your smile turned to a smirk. “Oh, petal, you can’t say things like that first thing in the morning. I’ll never be able to continue my day like this.”
“Hmm, but we’re on our honeymoon, aren’t we? What else do we have to do but enjoy each other?” you reminded.
His eyes snapped open. A low hum reverberated in his chest. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Your smirk grew. You shifted off of him, slipping out of his hands. Your feet hit the floor. As you moved toward the door, “In that case, I’m going to ask if breakfast can be made. Do you have any requests?”
Coryo let out a growl. He followed you of the bed, trying to grab your hips and pull you back against him. “My little petal has some thorns of her own, hm? I think you know what I want for breakfast.”
“No, no, I don’t want to kill my husband. Not after I’ve decided to like him, you know.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m thinking pancakes.”
You slipped out of his hands again, giggling to yourself as you made a beeline for the door, shutting it behind you. In the distance, you heard Coryo fumble with the door before his footsteps echoed down the hall. You picked up your pace, nearly making it to the kitchen when you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind. A squeal escaped your lips.
Coryo’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Now, I’ll let you tell the staff to make breakfast,” he growled, “but as soon as we’re finished, I’m dragging you back to our room and finishing you off as dessert. Am I understood?”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Snow?”
His teeth nipped at your earlobe. “It’s a promise, Mrs. Snow.”
And he kept it.
“How many children do you want?” you asked Coryo as he dragged a rag between your legs, cleaning up the mess the two of you made. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as his brows pinched together.
“Does it matter what I wish? You’ll be the one giving birth.”
You rolled your eyes. “Of course it matters. A marriage is a partnership. We should discuss these sorts of things.”
A sigh escaped his lips. He stepped away, taking the rag to the bathroom. You were left alone for a minute before he returned. Coryo climbed into the bed. He settled on his back and pulled you into his arms. “One, I think. I would like to give you the experience of motherhood, if you so wish it. But I don’t think I can handle seeing you in that sort of position more than once.”
“That sort of position? What are you—oh.”
It was easy to forget about his mother. Even though you knew this was the cottage where she had him and was going to have his sister, the very same cottage she lost her life in, it was easy to forget. One part of the Coriolanus that you once knew that remained true for your Coryo was that he kept his true, most vulnerable, parts to himself. In a lot of ways, he’d exposed those parts to you. But there were still things that you still hadn’t been exposed to. This was one of them, you supposed.
“I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lost you,” Coryo said. When you tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes were shut. If he hadn’t just been speaking, you might have thought him asleep. “Burn all of Panem to the ground, I suppose.”
“You don’t mean that, Coryo.”
“None of this matters if I don’t have you by my side,” he said. His grip on you tightened. “When I was younger, I had always dreamed of being King. My Grandma’am and Tigris were always so sure I would one day sit on the throne. We would talk about all of the glorious things I would do. How I would honor Panem. But these few years I have sat on the throne…While it was what I expected, it didn’t bring me satisfaction, joy, like I thought it might.”
His eyes opened again. A smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t feel joy until the first time I got to dance with you, my petal. And now that I have it, I’m afraid I must be selfish with it. I won’t do anything that would risk your health and safety. And to bear a child…That is the one danger I cannot completely control. Should anything go wrong, I cannot do a thing. I have to place my trust in the physician to ensure your safety. I don’t like having to trust others. Besides you, of course.”
“Coryo…”
“One child would suffice to carry on the Snow legacy. Any more and I fear I might keel over with the anxiety.”
You rolled over so that you half-laid on his chest. Reaching up, you carded your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for telling me that.”
He huffed a small laugh. “Well, you told me your anxieties. I thought it was only right that I told you mine.”
“And I think I would be happy with just one child, too,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But I am in no rush to have any now. I was just curious.”
“How I love that curious mind of yours.”
A part of you, one that you were still trying to familiarize yourself with, nearly said that you loved him too.
#the house of snow: a royal coryo au#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x y/n#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x female reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow fan fiction#coriolanus snow fan fic#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus snow fic#starrywrites#starryevermore
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Trust
Astarion x gn!reader. My spin on the first biting interaction at camp with our fav vampire. I’ve been having some Thoughts.
Warnings: mentions of blood, light sexual tension. written on my phone. not proof read lol
Teeth bared directly above your face, white and gleaming. Sharp. The sight had you scrambling backward, feet slipping on the bundle of blankets you slept with before your sleep-addled mind cleared and recognized the silver hair and ruby eyes.
“Shit,” whispered that purring voice.
“Astarion?” Your voice was thick with sleep still. Your mysterious companion held his hands up in an attempt to calm you as you matched his movements to stand.
His ethereal eyes remained warily on yours even as he bowed his head. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear,”
You glance at your other sleeping companions; too tired or too far away in their tents to hear. Seems you were lucky that nightmares kept you just on the verge of consciousness. A vampire was in your camp after all. “What’s going on? Were you trying to hurt me-- hurt the others too?”
Campfire flame danced in Astarion’s wide eyes. He inched away from your suspicious look. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I just needed, well…blood.”
“I wondered how long you’d last,”
You had your doubts at first, but the little puzzle pieces kept clicking. The boar your party had found days earlier. The coolness of the brush of his hand despite the battles and time under the sun. That was before you caught yourself staring at him a little too long at the smooth angles of his face, and the silver curls that swept around his elven ears. You were sure he saw you glance at his lips more than a healthy amount. That healthy amount helped you catch a glimpse of two pointed canines.
“You…You know?” He inclined his head slightly, rooted in place. His accusing tone held an urgency for you to continue.
“That you’re a vampire? Yes,” you stated. His searching eyes had you wishing you would sink into the ground.
“How long have you known?” He tilted his head to the side; a curious trait you found endearing if you didn’t think he appeared to be sizing up his next meal. And you very well could have been just that.
“Over a fortnight. Astarion--”
“You didn’t tell the others?”
“No. Gale thinks you have an affinity for blood magic you won’t tell him about and Shadowheart just thinks you’re odd. That’s all I know,” Your shoulders relaxed just a hair when Astarion smirked. He met your eye again and it faded.
“You have been keeping a close eye on me. Is it distrust? Or perhaps something else,”
“Nothing of the sort,” you assured him, “The signs were there, and I put two and two together. You’re not subtle,”
Astarion let out a laugh, airy and flitty. “And what do you plan on doing with your excellent sleuthing skills?”
“Depends entirely on you. How long has it been since you killed someone?”
“I haven’t killed anyone! At least, not for food, since I’m assuming that’s what you mean,” You nodded. “I feed on animals. I know you know that much. Boars, deer, kobolds—whatever I can get,”
You felt his gaze linger on your racing pulse point. He was focused so intently on it your heart raced faster at the attention.
“It’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak,” his tongue absently wetted his front teeth. Your lips parted a bit in realization: your sleeping self would have been all too easy for him to get to.
“You wanted to feed on me,”
“I…Well, yes, if I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better,” Astarion straightened and moved closer. “Please,”
The timbre of his voice made your flesh crawl. Not unpleasantly so.
“Why didn’t you ask me instead of trying to sneak a bite in the dark?”
“At best, I thought you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He eyed you up again. “No, I needed you to trust me. You can trust me,”
“I already did trust you. I thought that was clear,” you told him. His eyes flashed with something like surprise.
“Almost too trusting,”
“The least I can do is give you the benefit of the doubt,” you tried a small smile, not enough to show teeth. “The least you can do is trust me too. What do you need?”
Red eyes held you in place. Moonlight illuminated Astarion’s silver curls as he moved closer, footsteps silent on the dirt. “Let’s try to trust each other a little further, hm? I only need a taste,” he hummed, “I swear,”
You pinched your lip between your teeth, refusing to shy away from his predatory lean toward you. This moment held possibly the longest conversation with him you’d had so far. Despite your first meeting— which included a dagger to your throat and your fist thrown at his face— his actions gave you no other reason to doubt him. You did not know the man at all besides the bits and pieces he’d let slip, only on purpose you were sure. He’d kept you all alive thus far. That was enough for you.
“I…How do you want me?”
Astarion smirked. “Presumptuous, darling,”
Your cheeks burned. “Not like that—You know what I mean, asshole,”
“I’m hurt!” He placed a hand over his undead heart and feigned offense. Still, he came face to face with you. You felt your breath pick up when delicate, cool fingers moved your hair from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. Already this was feeling a touch too intimate for your comfort.
“Should I sit?”
“You should,” his words brushed against your skin; gentle, cool as the breeze. You leaned away from his touch, avoiding his eye as you sat in front of him on your bedroll. A log in the fire snapped, making you jump. “You seem nervous, darling,”
“Can’t help it. You want to take a chunk out of me,”
Another airy laugh left the man as he kneeled to your level. “That all?” he tilted his head again to make sure you met his gaze. You broke the charged contact to roll your eyes, allowing him that small win. “I’m no animal. Lie back,”
You tensed as he urged you onto your elbows. Fuck, this was like nothing you’d done before. Astarion was nearly draped over your body as he followed your own movements. His arm planted itself on the ground beside your hip and he began to bow his head toward you. “Wait, wait,” you gasped.
“What’s wrong?” There was no impatience present in his tone. Thankfully. Still, deep-set hunger swam in his ruby irises. Your cheeks flushed deeper at his closeness.
“How badly does it hurt?”
His expression hardened. He studied a spot on your neck, seeming a mile away in his own thoughts. It was emotion deeper than he’d previously allowed you to see.
“I’ll be much gentler than to you than the vampire that did this to me,”
Your curiosity was brimming when you looked at the symmetrical scars on his neck but you did not want to make him uncomfortable, so you remained quiet, and sent him a nod. Your exhale disturbed a few strands of his hair as he closed the distance between you completely.
Astarion’s nose and lips briefly skimmed the artery in your neck and you shivered at the feeling. Little warning alluded to his teeth finding purchase in your skin.
You let out a yelp of surprise, one hand digging into the dirt at your sides and the other flying to grip the front of the vampire’s shirt. Your breath did not come easily; the icy pain was almost too much. You felt your knees curl up as if your body was trying to fold into itself. The reflex nudged him closer.
The pain numbed as you felt him swallow against your throat, drawing your warm blood into his mouth. Your head fell back. His hand was there to catch it.
A fleeting moment of focus made you think the action was rather intimate. Possibly even sweet.
Another gulp. You squeaked, both in pain and in response to the foreignness of his ministrations. You tugged his collar and your eyes fluttered closed. You moaned softly as you regained your breath. His low growl, nothing more than a vibration, rumbled through your veins. Your body warmed.
Embarrassingly, you didn’t realize the rest of your body was moving until Astarion’s hand flattened over your hip. A groan left you when his teeth retracted from you swiftly. A cold hand held your own. Your neck stung when you turned your head.
Astarion’s pupils were blown wide so only a sliver of red outlined them. He’d shoved himself away, dropping your hand and stumbling into a standing position. With his fingers he wiped away your blood staining his lips. You stared, unabashed, when he licked them clean. He panted though he had no use for breath.
Lightheaded and slow, you sat up.
“Are you alright?” Concern rang in your words.
Gods above, Astarion thought, you had blood trickling from the puncture wounds in your neck that’d he’d left—fuck, he wanted to dive back in and lick up the trail leading down your chest—and you’re the one asking him if he’s alright.
His mind cleared. His hunger was satiated for now. His cock was hard. He hated how your moans affected him. He wasn’t even trying to bring them out of you, though he caught himself imagining how he could. Whatever it took to make you trust him, with no doubts. You claimed you already did, but would you go so far as to help him with his personal ambition?
The scent of your blood--gods, he was awash with pleasure of a kind he couldn’t name. He felt strong and…happy. Astarion was certain he’d said that out loud, judging by the shy smile on your lips. He’d have the blissful image and the taste of you on his mind all night.
Astarion made some excuse to get away from you, the first person he’d tasted since turning into the monster he was. He was invigorated. Ready to take on anything and anyone. Something he admitted to himself: he would --possibly, maybe-- willingly do just that for you. He would not soon forget what you had gifted him.
#bg3#bg3 imagine#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate three#astarion#astarion bg3#Astarion ancunin#astarion imagine#astarion bg3 imagine#Astarion fanfic#bg3 fanfic#Astarion ancunin imagine#my work#mine
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THE EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE (2000) PROMPTS
* assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary
how shall i do it?
oh, is that hard to believe?
is this really the best you could do?
check out this piece of work.
i'm here because i received a summons.
word on the street is you can fix my problem.
the drinks were a bit on the warm side.
okay, i admit it. maybe i wasn’t as nice as i should have been.
do you really want to kill me?
so is everything ready for tonight?
i thought we’d start off with a soup and a light salad, and then see how we feel after that.
we’re about to go over a huge waterfall.
bring it on.
you got all that, honey?
what about dinner?
all right. a quick cup of coffee.
but what does that have to do with anything?
you’re sort of confusing me.
how did you get back here before us?
by all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.
i never liked your spinach puffs.
ah. should have seen that coming.
you know what, you could have told me that before i set it up.
now you stop being hard on yourself. all is forgiven.
it’s not the first time i was tossed out of a window, and it won’t be the last.
what can i say? i’m a rebel.
i can’t believe this is happening!
break the door down!
are you kidding me? this is hand-carved mahogany.
so you lied to me.
couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, huh.
why did i risk my life for a selfish brat like you?
i was always taught that there was some good in everyone, but, oh, you proved me wrong.
now i feel really bad.
you threw off my groove!
he didn’t pay his check.
this had better be good!
this is the last time we take directions from a squirrel.
yeah, like that would ever happen.
will you take a look at this?
oh, is that hard to believe?
just thought i’d give you a heads up.
what do you mean the door’s stuck? try jiggling the handle.
you’re the criminal mastermind here, not me.
just leave me alone.
it’s my birthday gift to me. i’m so happy.
hey, it doesn’t always have to be about you.
uh, he doesn’t really wanna talk to you.
hey, did you see that sky today? talk about blue.
don’t drink the wine.
our moment of triumph approaches!
oh, he’s doing his own theme music.
i’m so glad i was unconscious for all of this.
you’re not just gonna let him die like that, are you?
don’t listen to that guy.
if it were me, i’d march right back there and demand to see him.
you just saved my life!
believe it or not, i think i need a bath.
maybe i’m just new to this whole rescuing thing, but this, to me, might be considered kind of a step backwards.
i ate a bug today!
what is this guy babbling about?
i’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.
i gotta go wash something.
anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.
let me guess, you have a great personality.
thanks for going back on your promise!
how long has that been there?
someday you’re gonna wind up all alone, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.
hmm. don’t know, don’t care. how’s that?
for the last time, it was not a kiss.
#rp meme#rp memes#rp prompt#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#rp starters#mcflymemes#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#rp inbox meme#inbox prompt#inbox meme#sentence starter prompt#sentence starter#sentence starters#the emperors new groove
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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Six
Kusuo Saiki x Reader
Chapter Six: Christmas Eve
Summary: Saiki's bothers (friends) end up at his house for Christmas Eve.
Saiki walked towards his house. His parents were excited as usual for holidays, so the entire house was decked in lights and wreaths for Christmas, even if it was a rather western holiday. As soon as he placed a hand upon the doorhandle, he had a bad feeling. Sure enough, his mother and Nendou were inside the doorway when he opened the door.
“Oh, welcome back, Kuu!” greeted Mrs. Saiki.
“Hey, you’re late, pal!” said Nendou, giving him a thumbs-up.
“Hey, Saiki!” (Y/N) walked in from the living room and waved.
Saiki sighed and walked in. “How did they end up here?” he asked his mother.
“I ran into Nendou at the grocery store and asked him to join us! And (L/N)’s parents are going on a trip, and since they were so sweet last time we met, I offered for them to join us for Christmas,” explained Mrs. Saiki. She left to go greet her husband, who had just arrived home.
“I’m gonna grab a cookie!” said Nendou, heading to the kitchen.
“A trip?” And they didn’t invite their kid?
“They had business,” said (Y/N). They smiled, but Saiki noticed it wasn’t as big as their usual one. “They’re sort of workaholics,” they joked. “They’ll be back tomorrow.”
“So you’re staying here.”
“Yeah!” A real smile spread across (Y/N)’s face. “I’m excited! I’ll try not to bother you, though.”
Considerate of my feelings. “It’s fine.” He ignored how often he observed (Y/N)’s good qualities these days.
(Y/N) looked at him in surprise. They were about to respond, but Mr. Saiki, Mrs. Saiki, and Nendou returned.
“Merry Christmas! Santa’s here!” called Mr. Saiki, dressed up like St. Nick. He blanked when he saw (Y/N) and Nendou. “I wish you had told me that we were going to have guests. I look like a fool!” he whispered to his wife.
“That’s because you are one.”
(Y/N) covered their mouth to avoid laughing.
“So who’re they?” asked Mr. Saiki.
“They’re Kuu’s friends, Nendou and (L/N). Remember? The (L/N)’s were dropping their daughter of today for dinner,” said Mrs. Saiki.
“Kusuo’s friends?!” exclaimed Mr. Saiki. He began crying in happiness.
Saiki sighed in exasperation while (Y/N) laughed.
“Hello, Nendou, (L/N)!” said Mr. Saiki. “I’m Kuniharu, Saiki’s father! Nice to meet you!”
“Oh, you’re my pal’s dad? Nice to meet you,” said Nendou, but because he was so tall compared to Mr. Saiki, he ended up looking intimidating.
He seems like a total thug, thought Mr. Saiki.
“Nice to meet you!” chirped (Y/N). Flowers twirled around them.
They seem too nice to hang out with Kusuo, thought Mr. Saiki.
Hey—
“These are well-made,” said Nendou, holding Mr. Saiki’s discarded Santa hat and beard. “I really thought it was Santa.”
“What? R-Really?” Mr. Saiki blushed.
So you’re happy now?
And so, Mr. Saiki accepted Nendou as a not-thug friend and (Y/N) as the too-nice-for-Saiki friend (Saiki was not pleased with the second one). Together, they all sat down for dinner.
“Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!”
They all clinked glasses.
“(Y/N), how did someone so nice because friends with my closed-off Kusuo?” asked Mr. Saiki.
Is this what TV shows mean about awkward family dinners with guests?
“Saiki’s actually pretty accepting! He’s just quiet, but that’s completely fine,” said (Y/N). They spoke casually, but their heart thumped as they complimented Saiki. They almost glanced at him as if hoping for a reaction. For some reason or other. Nothing they knew.
Mr. and Mrs. Saiki awed.
How do they say those affectionate things so easily? Saiki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit embarrassed and flustered, but the world would start loving him before he showed it.
“And Nendou! You’re quite sensible! I was happy to hear you thought I was the real Santa,” said Mr. Saiki. “When Kusuo was less than a year old, he already looked at me as if I had come from his diaper.”
(Y/N) nodded. “The Saiki Death Stare.”
Saiki gave them that exact look. They shivered.
“You really are a good, well-mannered kid, Nendou,” continued Mr. Saiki, still doting on the tall boy.
“Oh? I’m not really a good kid,” said Nendou.
“Sure, you are,” assured (Y/N).
“What?” asked Mr. Saiki.
“Santa never came to my place,” said Nendou.
“Oh, well, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad kid. Santa didn’t come to my place, either,” said (Y/N).
“What?! Why your fathers deprive you of Santa?!” cried Mr. Saiki.
“I don’t have a dad. He died before I was born,” explained Nendou.
“My parents said it didn’t matter where presents came from,” said (Y/N).
How on earth did you end up so optimistic with such realists for parents? Saiki was almost disappointed to know their home-life wasn’t as bright as they themself were.
“What?!” cried Mrs. Saiki.
“I-I didn’t know that…” said Mr. Saiki.
“I’m sorry…” said Mrs. Saiki.
(Y/N) shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine.”
Clearly not. I wish I could read your mind. Then I’d know how to help. Saiki saw (Y/N) as a real friend (translation: he was willing to admit (Y/N) was his friend, but he had others). He was more willing than usual to get involved in their problems.
“Hm? Why? That doesn’t bother me. I’ve got my mom, so…” Nendou gave a big smile and a thumbs-up. “Santa doesn’t come, but that doesn’t make me feel sad or anything!”
“I see…” murmured Mr. Saiki uncomfortably. “Ah, excuse us for a bit.”
“You three go on eating,” said Mrs. Saiki.
The husband and wife left the room.
“Your parents are pretty cool, and your dad is fun. I mean, he came home in a Santa costume,” said (Y/N), smiling.
“This is just the beginning. It only gets more ‘fun’ from here,” said Saiki, the sarcasm clear without any tone.
“Sorry for stepping out!” chirped Mrs. Saiki, returning with a bright smile.
“Where’d Mr. Saiki go?” asked (Y/N).
“Ah, he went out. He said something like having to go lick his clients’ shoes,” said Mrs. Saiki. She gestured to the food. “Let’s go ahead and enjoy.”
Suddenly, Mr. Saiki, dressed completely like Santa, began trying to open the backdoor.
“Ahhh! What’s going on?” questioned Nendou. “Some guy that looks like Santa is trying to open the door!”
Mrs. Saiki opened the door and let “Santa” in.
“Ahem.” Mr. Saiki cleared his throat. “Hello, Nendou, (L/N). I’m Santa. Nice to meet you.”
“See? My father really is one-of-a-kind, isn’t he?” remarked Saiki, sending the message just to (Y/N)’s mind.
(Y/N) smiled and whispered back. “I think it’s nice.”
“The real Santa is here!” gasped Nendou. “Is it really you, Santa?! Amazing!”
“Wow! Incredible!” (Y/N) played along (mostly for Nendou’s sake).
“Please shake my hand, Mr. Santa!” said Nendou.
“Ho ho ho! Sure!” Mr. Saiki shook Nendou’s hand.
Mrs. Saiki and (Y/N) laughed.
“Oh! That’s right!” exclaimed Nendou. “Santa travels with reindeer, right? I want to see reindeer even more than Santa!”
“Okay! They’re outside. Why don’t you go look?” said Mr. Saiki.
(Y/N) tilted their head. “Can your dad keep this up?
“Probably not.” Not without my help. Both of my parents keep begging for my help in their minds. He teleported a reindeer to his backyard effortlessly.
“Whoa! A reindeer! Amazing!” cried Nendou.
“Wait, really?! Cool!” (Y/N) hurried to the window. “Whoa!”
“Here, you two. These are presents for you,” said Mr. Saiki after they returned indoors. He handed them each a gift.
“I-Is it really okay?” asked Nendou.
“R-Really? For me?” Strangely, it meant even more to (Y/N) to receive the gift knowing it wasn’t Santa. They glanced over at Saiki, knowing it was probably his.
My parents are giving away my gifts, and yet… Saiki gave them a thumbs-up. I don’t mind.
(Y/N) grinned, and their heart warmed happily. “Thank you.”
“All right! I get two presents this year!” cheered Nendou.
“What? Two?” asked Mr. Saiki. “I thought you’ve never gotten a present.”
“Yeah, nothing from Santa,” said Nendou. “But I get one from my mom. Every year, while I’m asleep at night, she puts a present next to the pillow. She could just give it to me directly. I wonder why she does it…”
Everybody deadpanned.
“He has a nice mom.”
(Y/N) nodded. “Definitely.” A lightbulb went off in their head. “Oh, did you also think I never got a present? If you did, you can have your gift back, after all, it might be something you wanted, and I—.”
“Keep it.” Saiki looked at her. His eyes displayed his honesty.
“Are you sure?”
Saiki nodded.
“Thank you.” They reached behind her their and picked up a small, wrapped gift. “Here! It’s your present!”
He took it from them.
“Go on, open it,” they encouraged.
With his x-ray vision, he already saw what was inside, but Saiki was excited and opened it. It was a package of coffee jelly and a keychain shaped like coffee jelly. “Thank you.”
“Of course! Anything for you!” (Y/N) grinned with closed-eyes at him.
A tiny smile appeared on his face. Behind them, the sounds of holiday cheer echoed from his parents and Nendou. The tree was glowing, the food wafted delicious smells into the air, and presents were piled under the tree.
“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”
“Merry Christmas, Saiki.”
Taglist:
@elaemae
@painstakingly-juno
@characterreaderwriter
@melovepurple
@sleep-7372
@w0mank1sser
@geminigengar
@noodleryworld
@leonardo-dabitchy
@janezee12751275
@xenop0p
@ex160-blog1
@futureittomainn
@boogiemansbitch
@dmitrytherat
@yuriisclumsy
@sixxze
@constellationguy
@k03ume
@sweatyinternettrash
@paastaboi
#a not so disastrous romance#x reader#gn reader#nb reader#x gn reader#x nb reader#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki#saiki kusou no psi nan#kusuo saiki#saiki x reader#saiki k#saiki no psi nan#saiki#saiki kusuo#kusuo x reader#saiki kusuo x reader#kusuo saiki x reader#tdlosk
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An Exercise in Trust [Part One]
This takes place shortly following the first dungeon of Shadowbringers, Holminster Switch. A conversation between the scion Prudence Dubois and the Warrior of Light Odette Hollows.
“I don’t trust him,” Prudence’s voice is a dry rasp, like the pages of a book being turned, emphasized by her pacing. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step step, turn. “He doesn’t show us the work, he just says you’ll be fine. How the fuck would he know? He blindly groped all about our star for you and knocked all of us out of our bodies. That,” Her boot heel struck the ground, “Is not a careful man. We shouldn’t trust a careless man with you. Urianger is the one with the vision, surely we can figure it out.”
You do not answer immediately, listening to the sound of her pacing. You lay on the bed of your shared room, legs draped over the side of the mattress, an arm thrown over your eyes that doesn’t help. Hours ago you scattered the aether of a Lightwarden and returned the night sky to Lakeland. To see your Lady’s radiant face returned to the heavens of this world had brought you first to tears and then your knees. But when you closed your eyes to pray the perfect darkness that lay behind your lids was instead foul, burning light.
You cannot stop closing your eyes, like poking a bruise or picking a scab.
Prudence kicks your leg once then twice and then once more. She’s certainly kicked you harder before, and the idea that she may be holding back makes you warm.
“Are you even listening?” A cutting tone there, like the edge of paper.
“I am, I am,” you assured, hearing your fondness shape the words into something softer, coaxing the same from her.
It works. You hear only a sigh in response. Then Prudence’s weight settles onto the bed beside you; never near enough to touch but your body tips toward her’s. She draws in a deep breath trying to find her patience again.
“I want the witch to look at you. Before you eat another one. She’s right not to trust this Exarch, you know.” She spits the title like a curse.
“I didn’t eat it, Prudence,” You scrub your palms against your eyelids. The bright light trapped behind them is spotted through with blessed black where you press.
Prudence is quiet but you can feel her stare. The weight of its regard; annoyance and concern in equal measure. Relief that it isn’t her. Judgement because she thinks she could do this better.
Everyone thinks they can do it better, none of them want to try.
You continue: “We may not have the time for that. I’m not even sure where Y’shtola is,” Prudence clucked at the name. You finally opened your eyes, banishing the light again, and turned to behold the Ishgardian beside you. Prudence stared down at you, unblinking, brows drawn low in her customary disappointed expression. You cannot meet her gaze -- you can never meet anyone’s gaze -- but you are close enough.
It is easy to forget that she and the others have been here for a year or longer; waiting for your arrival. Prudence has never been one to sit still and she struggles now, a bird caged.
From outside the window, you hear a crowd cheer and uproarious laughter. The Crystarium is still up, still enjoying the darkness of night. Prudence’s liquid dark eyes cut toward the sound and you feel a smile rise unbidden. You know whose laugh she seeks.
“Why don’t you go out? I’m sure the Captain is out there.” You sit up as you speak, bracing yourself on your elbows, “Neither of us are aether-ologists, we’ll have to wait for Urianger and Y’shtola to weigh in. You might as well enjoy the passage of time.”
Prudence snorted at the title and rolled her eyes at everything else. She rose to resume pacing. You flopped back onto the bed, prepared for a second round of discussion of topics far beyond your combined understanding. But no such discussion starts. Only your companion’s steps filled the air. Then:
“So, if Y’shtola says it’s dangerous, you’ll stop?”
“Stop?”
“Stop eating them. The light wardens.”
“I’m not eat--”
“You know what I mean.”
You stare at each other for a moment. You do know what she means, is the problem, and you know you cannot promise her. And yet --
“… If Y’shtola says it's dangerous, I’ll… stop.” Your hand is pinned against your leg, half tucked under the curve of your thigh, your fingers crossed.
The silence is long.
“Fine. I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” She’s at the door before you can sit up all the way. Your dead heart skips into life as it clicks shut behind her. However, before you can delight in the quiet, dread teases the nape of your neck, raising goosebumps. Your fingertips tremble as you strive to contain the sudden knowledge that this is a memory you will reflect on often.
You close your eyes as the tears fall, blinded by the light trapped behind your eyelids.
Someone else could do this better.
#An Exercise in Trust#Pigeon Writing#Odette Hollows#Prudence Dubois#WoL!Odette#Scion!Prudence#Shadowbringers#Shadowbringers Spoilers#AhhHHHHHHH#posting this before I chicken out ok love you mwah#(An exercise in trust because odette spends most of the expansion LYING to KNOWN LIARS and because it's when we got the trust system)
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"Make it look like a freak lighting accident"
It’s been years since I’ve revisited Due South, but the @ds30below event sparked my interest again, and I decided to watch a few episodes with my bud @flownwrong to celebrate. We watched three episodes that stuck in my mind the most over the years after being absent from the show for so long: Bird in the Hand, Eclipse, and The Ladies’ Man, and I found all three to be a very rewarding rewatch, even though my memory of the rest of the series is a bit hazy.
Bird in the Hand:
When we started our mini marathon, I didn’t realize that this was the only ep of the three where Fraser’s dad plays a role, and I forgot how solid Pinsent was at pulling comic relief duty. The scene where he popped up demanding that Fraser murder Gerard immediately after Gerard was droning on about how Robert’s dogged nobility was his ultimate downfall had me rolling, as did the bit where he—probably correctly— asserted that Ray would shoot Gerard for him if Fraser really asked him to (aww). One thing in particular about his character that struck me while watching this episode were the moments where he actually interacted with the environment around him in a way that impacted people other than Fraser by implanting the idea to retreat in McFadden’s mind and having Gerard attempt to grab his hand while dangling in the air. In my memory, it was a lot more ambiguous whether Robert was actually a spirit or a figment of Fraser’s imagination, so that ended up being kind of a fun twist for me.
Since the other two episodes we watched were very Ray K centric, I’m glad we did one that had a focus on Fraser’s emotional state. The scene where he confronted Robert about stubbornly refusing help in life and said “I never loved anyone as much as I love you” while Robert was still trying to find ways to derail the conversation is a fan favorite for a reason; it’s a rare, intensely vulnerable moment for Fraser and I really enjoyed the way that Paul Gross pulled back from it a little. In another show with another character, it’s easy to imagine a scene like this being a more blatant, emotional showstopper, with the neglected son saying this in a fit of tearful anger that’s meant to make his father rear back in surprise. Instead, Paul Gross delivers the line in an understated way that’s almost more like puzzled frustration, as if Fraser is trying to piece something together about himself instead, which I thought was a really nice touch to the scene that made it feel very Fraser. I also love the cunning way that Fraser brought it back around just a few minutes later by weaponizing male emotional repression in order to freak out everyone else in the room and gain the upper hand (as well as have an opportunity to annoy Ghost Dad by calling him short) while also delivering some genuine truths: Gerard really did break his heart.
Last but certainly not least, I adore how Ray kept trying to take care of Fraser throughout the episode in his own grumpy, special way. Sure, trying to orchestrate some Fraser-on-Gerard police brutality didn’t end up being the most well received suggestion, but it’s sweet that he acted extra vengeful to make up for Fraser’s dutiful restraint. I also forgot that the “Mentally Deficient” sticker gag and the tape recorder conversation were both in this episode. The Bickering Married Couple vibes between them were always such a classic part of the show, so it was nice to see that on display.
Bird in the Hand really held up strongly against my fond memories of it, and I was a little surprised at how easy it was to slide back into this world and be immersed in it after being away for so long. Sometimes I guess you actually can go back home again.
#due south#ds30below#i will post my observations about Eclipse and The Ladies’ Man separately hopefully either tonight or tomorrow#but i had a blast watching all three#thanks alina!
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We're getting skater girl part 2?!?! I'm so excited!
Actually it's Part 3! You can find part 1 here and part 2 here
aaaaaaand here's part three:
Hunter usually got to school early anyway, but Monday morning he was there before Bump had even unlocked the door.
He had hardly slept, which wasn’t terribly new, but this type of anxiety didn’t just make him scared he was also a little… excited?
Friday night played over and over in his mind. During breakfast and his chores and his collection of endless lessons, his mind wandered back to the school steps. He stood at the bottom of the stairs at the edge of where the shadows started, looking at her like she was the only light that could cast them. One second they were just standing there and he got to see just how green her eyes were up close and the next he was kissing Willow.
He kissed Willow.
He kissed Willow.
He kissed Willow.
He had been impulsive, he still wasn’t sure if it technically broken school policy but he didn’t care? But he also cared a lot? But not about policy for once, no he cared about what it actually meant. He knew things happened at dances that would not happen otherwise, things people hoped for, things that happened impulsively under the guise of the flashing lights. Things people came to regret come Monday morning.
He knew his moment with Willow had been two of these, but he hoped it wouldn’t try for all three.
When she had gotten him to his house with plenty of time to spare they were a collection of muffled laughter as they tried to keep quiet. Normally, he’d be anxious about what his uncle would say, but Willow made him feel safe. When Willow touched him, it activated a bubble. It was like the pressure of his position, the weight of every expectation was gone because they were too fast for it to catch up. Even when they were standing still, if he was near her it still felt like flying.
“Thank you again,” he said once his house was in sight.
“No problem,” she said as she caught her breath. They would’ve gotten here in time with her usual speed, but she had gone faster to try and impress Hunter. The fact that the faster she went, the tighter he held onto her was just an added bonus. “I think I set a new personal record.”
“Cool,” he said, equally as breathless for a different reason. “Happy to help.”
They stood there as the autumn air hung between them, both in and out of their element. He wanted to say more but he didn't know what else there was to say. He was still a little embarrassed, a little confused, but being in her arms he felt like those problems could wait for him on the ground. But the realist in him knew he couldn’t stay here forever. Granted, he knew he could probably stay here awhile; she was pretty strong.
But he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.
“Um, Willow?”
“Yeah?”
“You can uh, put me down now,” he chuckled nervously, a part of him not wanting to say anything. Willow blushed at the realization that she was still holding him.
“Oh yeah, of course,” she said with a matching chuckle as she gently set him down. She playfully brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Another successful delivery.”
“Heh, yeah,” Hunter said with a faint smile, kicking the ground knowing he had a few minutes to spare and not wanting to leave her just yet.
She fiddled with her braid, sharing the feeling.
“It’s a nice night,” she sighed, looking up at the night sky. “You can see the stars out here. It’s really beautiful.”
“Yeah, really beautiful,” he breathed, looking at her looking at the sky. She smiled, feeling his eyes on her as they listened to the crickets chirp.
Hunter knew if it wasn’t for him, Willow would be back at the school laughing and dancing and having the night she deserved. Now she had to skate home in the dark by herself and probably be late for her own curfew. How was he worth all that trouble?
“Willow, I need to apologize,” he said softly.
“You’ve apologized like twelve times already,” said Willow. “Hunter, I promise I’m not upset with you, you know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
He could tell she was trying to take it easy on him.
“It’s just… I still feel really bad for yelling at you,” he admitted.
“Oh stop, you yell at me all the time,” she reminded him.
Not like that, he thought. Never like that.
“And also for making you miss the dance.” He said, realizing he had a long list of things to apologize for. “I mean I know how much you were looking forward to it and you didn’t even get to dance-.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” she assured him, waving her hand. “Besides, I probably wouldn’t have too much luck dancing in skates anyway.”
“Yeah but if I wasn’t such a jerk then maybe we could have gone together properly and you could have worn dancing shoes and a dance dress-.”
“‘A dance dress?’” Willow repeated with a giggle. “What’s a ‘dance dress?’”
“You know, like a fancy formal dress for a dance,” he said, slightly embarrassed.
“Hmm, so you wanna see me in a fancy formal dress for a dance huh?” she teased.
He blushed. “I just want you to have the night you deserve,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “You deserve to be in the gym with all your friends having fun, not doing favors for me.”
“Hunter, I promise you more than made up for it,” she said with a smirk. “I had a wonderful night.”
“Really? How?” She had spent her whole night babysitting, then getting accused of Boscha’s lies, and then running home to help him. She had spent her whole night helping other people
“Because I got to spend it with you,” she said simply. “And that’s all I really wanted anyway.”
In this small serene moment outside all the chaos, Willow’s words caught up to him: I’ve had a crush on him for awhile now…
Did that count as a confession? Did he need something more direct or in writing to confirm that he hadn’t imagined or misheard her. Because it didn’t quite add up that this dizzy, silly, floating feeling that he had for Willow was returned. Even more unbelievable was that he hadn’t blown it. He had wanted to impress her, to be a perfect gentleman but even when she saw the side of him he wasn’t proud of, she still stayed. What had he done to earn such affection?
He thought about kissing her again. They were far from school and there were no rules stopping him now, just nerves. But he didn’t want to do it just because no one would see. He didn’t want her to think he was doing it because he was grateful she had gotten him home before his curfew. He couldn’t describe in plain words why he wanted to do it, but his heart beat loud in his ears as the memory flooded his mind again. Whatever that was, he wanted it again.
“Well maybe next time we can hang out when you don’t have to rescue me because I’m running late for something,” he attempted to joke.
“Well maybe I like rescuing you,” she teased, moving closer to him.
“Well maybe I like…” you he so desperately wanted to say. He wanted to show her how grateful he was for her, to know her, to be seen by her, to spend any amount of time with her. But again, it was complicated. He felt like he wasn’t allowed to like her but, like she was above and outside his world. She was a mystery and an open book at the same time, like a contradiction mixed with a shooting star.
“…being rescued?” She offered.
Did he like being swooped into her arms and whisked away like his troubles were a physical thing he could run from? Maybe more than he should. Being rescued implied inconveniencing someone, burdening them with his troubles. But with Willow it felt like being noticed, being cared for. Oh, she could rescue him anytime she wanted to.
“I just… uh… thank you. I know I’m not always the warmest or friendliest person but I’ve always thought you were so kind and patient and beautiful and I’m just not used to someone-”
He was cut off by her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides as her face rested against his chest.
“Uh… w-what’s going on?” He asked. “N-not that I’m complaining I just don’t-.”
“I wanna help you get used to it,” she said. “Because I think you are a very warm and friendly person, even if you don’t think so.”
She didn’t mention that he had so casually called her beautiful, she kept that fact in her back pocket for a rainy day.
“Well, I-I think you’re very… uh…”
“Beautiful?” she teased, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him mischievously. Okay, so maybe a rainy day didn’t have to be so far in the future.
“Yeah,” he said, knowing he couldn’t believably deny it and frankly he didn’t want to. Something in her eyes hypnotized him and allowed him to move his arms around her back. The moving of his arms led her to naturally move hers up around his neck as they both gravitated towards each other. Normally being so close to her and being so quiet would make him nervous, but this somehow felt natural and calming.
“Ya know this kinda feels like we’re slow dancing,” Willow observed with a smile.
“Yeah I uh guess so,” Hunter replied with a nervous chuckle as she adjusted her grip on his neck. He could not wrap his head around that this was how she had wanted to spend the night originally, that he didn’t see it sooner. That he had held himself back from believing it could be something she’d want with him.
He didn’t know how to dance but he felt like that didn’t matter now.
When he first allowed himself to entertain the idea of going to the dance with her, he tried to imagine a grand, romantic evening. He knew little about romance but felt the word suited her very being, romance was supposed to be whimsical and spontaneous and exciting which she effortlessly was. But he was organized and calculated and skeptical which maybe didn’t have to clash which made it hard for him to see what she saw in him. Would he have known to hold her like this under the flashing lights and loud music barely covering the whispers of their peers? Would he have known how to keep the conversation going, known the right thing to say, known how to tell if things were going well?
But maybe just trying was enough.
“Maybe you can work your magic at the next student council meeting to see if we can push up the next dance,” she said, her voice a mixture of humor and genuine hope. He hadn’t totally blown it and he wasn’t blowing it now, though he didn’t fully understand how.
“Maybe,” he said. Oh, he would pull strings, pull rank, pull in any argument he could to make it so. He wanted to show her he was capable of showing her the time she deserved. He felt he owed her so much. Why couldn’t he say more? “It’ll give me time to practice so I actually know what I’m doing.”
“Well I’d be happy to help you practice,” she said and Hunter realized they had started to slightly sway. He intended to practice in order to impress her when the time came so he wouldn’t want her to see his awkward progress but something in her voice made him suspect she knew that but was implying something more. He tried to match her tone.
“Luckily I’m a fast learner,” he said, smoother than he had ever said anything in his life. He demonstrated by focusing all of his courage to pull her closer and skillfully lean her into a small dip. Her grip on him tightened, but not for fear he’d drop her. She let out a light giggle as her eyes locked down the way the streetlights above framed his head like a halo and how natural it looked resting in his golden hair. She held her breath, thinking about kissing him again. Thinking so hard she swore he could hear her thoughts as he leaned in closer.
Then out of the corner of their sight a light went on that stopped them dead in their tracks.
“Oh no,” Hunter whispered. “My uncle is awake.”
Without thinking Willow shifted her weight and knocked Hunter off his feet and brought them both down to the ground, out of sight in case his uncle happened to look out the window. She covered his mouth to prevent his sounds of surprise from giving them away.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll get you inside so he doesn’t know you’ve been out.”
“But how?” Hunter whispered back, too focused on his panic to process their position on the ground which would normally leave him flustered. “I won’t be able to use the front door because he uses the chain lock.”
“Can you climb through a window maybe?”
“Probably, but I’m not sure I can do it without him hearing.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Willow assured. “I said I’d get you home and that’s what I’m gonna do. Let me handle distracting your uncle.”
Hunter’s heart sank, he knew his uncle was a stern and cold man and he didn’t want Willow to have to endure such energy on his behalf. “But you’ve already done so much for me, I can’t ask you to-.”
“Hey now,” she cut him off by pressing his finger to his lips. “I like being your knight in shining armor, okay? Just leave it to me.”
“But what will you say? How are you gonna explain knocking on a door at 10pm?”
“Don’t worry, he won’t suspect I’m here to see you or anything” she assured him. “I’ll tell him I’m lost, that I’m looking for my aunt’s house or something. I’ll make something up and it’ll give you enough time to run upstairs.”
“Do you have a lot of experience sneaking into places?” Hunter gulped, trying to mix a compliment into his concern.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said playfully, moving her finger from his lips to boop his nose. Her confidence made him calm and he cracked a smile. “When you get inside safely, text me and I’ll head out.”
“But I don’t have your number.”
“Well it’s about time you asked for it then, isn’t it?” She smirked. “C’mere.”
She grabbed his hand as she fetched a marker for her skirt pocket, skillfully removing the cap with her teeth as she delicately wrote her phone number on his wrist. He watched with bated breath as she finished it with a tiny heart and he hoped she couldn’t hear his heart beating as his mind screamed at him that he would never be this cool.
“Wait like a minute and then make your way to the back, okay?” Willow instructed as she recapped the marker. She leapt back onto her feet as she dusted the dust from her blouse. “I won’t leave until you text me.”
“Okay,” he whispered from the ground, now in awe of the halo that found her. “And uh, w-what should I text you?”
“Send me a heart,” she said with a wink before taking off to the door. He watched her through the sheaves in the bushes, wondering how she continued to out-wonderful herself.
After a minute, he tiptoed around the house listening as Willow spun a tale of asking for directions unsure of the order of the numbers of the house she was looking for and color of the house. She kept going, giving his uncle no time to turn her away as she added to her fictional predicament. He stifled his laughter as he silently bolted up the stairs, marveling at the way she was able to make a normally panic inducing situation somewhat comical.
The minute he carefully closed his door, he dashed to quickly change] his clothes before diving beneath the covers to copy the numbers on his arm to text Willow the code. He agonized a minute over which heart to send her before deciding on the yellow one, so she would know for sure it was from him.
After another minute he received a green heart in response. He stared at them, hypnotized by them on the illustrated screen together as he tried to decide if it was appropriate to say something else. Maybe he was to only use her number for business purposes. He didn’t have much practice texting, he didn’t want to risk misusing an abbreviation or emoji so he decided on: let me kno w hen u get h.Ome sa fe
He didn’t fall asleep until another green heart appeared from her.
———
Hunter didn’t know what to do next. She somehow kept getting cooler and he felt like he was falling behind when it came to showing her another side of him. He had her number now but he felt as though whatever came next had to happen in person.
He didn’t want Darius (or even worse for his uncle) to hear him practice what he would say when he saw her so he knew getting to school early was his safest bet.
But he needed to be ready for every possibility.
If she was cool, he had to be cool:
Oh hey Willow, do anything… fun this weekend? He would say, leaning against the locker. He imagined she would look at him with sparkling, mischievous eyes as she offered a clever retort. Maybe she would giggle, believing his attempt at charm.
If she played it off, he would too:
Oh yeah, it was uh so random right? He would say, and she would brush her hair behind her ear or twirl the end of her braid. Like, that’s just dances, ya know? Craaazy haha
If she was mad, he would be mad:
Boscha had no right to try and drag your name through the mud. We should work together to try and get back at her in a way that doesn’t violate school policy or anyone’s privacy but also has us spend a lot of time together.
Hmm, that one might need some workshopping.
He could be nonchalant, he could be business as usual, but the one thing he didn’t want to be was regretful.
Because he wasn’t, and he hoped it wasn’t too much to hope she wasn’t too.
She had implied that she liked him, that she like-liked him. His mind wanted to trick him that she really meant something else but as much of a rule breaker as she was, she was not a liar. She didn’t tease him to be spiteful or cruel, she did it because she knew him. She knew he had a certain way of thinking and operating and speaking, so she had crafted a language just for them. As far as he knew she didn’t speak to anyone else like that, in a way that made his heart pause and pound and spin.
It took him awhile to accept that he liked her, but accepting it didn’t make it less confusing. He looked forward to seeing her everyday, and he liked things the way they were but lately she had been seeing him more, saying more, implying more. He didn’t know how to want more, he didn’t know what that looked like.
It was risky, but Willow was all about risks. So maybe he needed to take a risk.
Hunter heard the hustle and bustle start up in the hallway and knew Willow would be joining the masses any minute, and he wanted to be looking cool and proper when she did.
He imagined her skating down the hallway, her loose braids trailing behind her like a comet’s tail and she’d spot him leaning against the locker looking suave and confident and her mind would straw back to Friday night with fondness.
He took one last deep breath and prepared himself to enter the hallway, knowing he was losing time before the bell rang. But as he rushed into the hall, he bumped into someone and it sent him flying backwards onto the ground.
“Sorry!” He said as he tried to regain his balance to once again rise to his feet, but the faster he got up the faster he’d fall down again. “Sorry! I take full responsibility, I know I shouldn’t even be-.”
“Hunter?” A familiar voice asked and he stopped himself as he looked up to see Willow standing over him with a confused smile. She caught his eye as he looked up at his name and extended her hand to him, “Are you okay? I didn’t see you come out and I uh -wait, are you wearing skates?”
“Willow! I uh- wait, are you not?” he said as he took her hand and she swiftly pulled him up. He rolled a bit but she caught him to keep him up.
“Oh, yeah,” she said as though she herself had forgotten. “I well, uh I thought we could walk to class together and I didn’t wanna be faster than you so I changed out of them before I came in today.”
“I uh, I had the same idea, actually,” he chuckled as he tried to keep his balance, but she instinctively placed her arm under his to keep him steady. He was extra tall now, towering over her without skates with the added height from his. Like a tree, a Willow and her tree.
“Oh, so does this mean skates are no longer against school policy?” she said sweetly.
“Oh no, they uh definitely are,” he said, fully in her embrace now.
“So you’re knowingly breaking school policy for me?” she asked. “Ooh, how romantic.”
He averted his eyes to the ground and Willow’s heart did a skip when she saw him struggle to find a clever comeback and instead found a vivid blush splashed across his face. She was glad that the events from Friday hadn’t changed her favorite part of their dynamic. In truth, that was the best response Hunter could have hoped for but as usual she stumped him.
“Uh, well I hope you don’t mind but after I dropped you off at your house I went back to the school and I picked up the flowers you… had,” she didn’t want to say ‘threw at my feet in hurt’ even though that technically was accurate. “And I spruced ‘em up. You picked a really nice selection.”
“Oh, uh thanks yeah,” he replied, secretly thankful she appreciated his efforts as he took notice of the arrangement in her other hand.”I uh… read a book about it once.”
“Cool,” she said, biting her lip like she was dying to say something. “So I uh, brought them because I thought they were really nice and if I had asked you to the dance like I wanted, well… I would’ve brought you flowers so I thought….”
“You brought these for me?” Hunter asked breathlessly.
“Yeah,” she said, suddenly flustered by her own actions. “But now I’m realizing I’m just giving you the same flowers you were going to give to me and that’s probably stupid so I’m sorry if I-.”
“It’s not stupid!” He said louder than he meant to. “I uh… thanks.”
Willow giggled as she handed them to him. “So, you were gonna give them to me, right?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah well when I thought you had… well I know it’s customary not to show up empty handed so I wanted to be prepared.”
“And you said you read a book about flowers?”
“Uh yeah maybe a few.”
“So you picked those particular flowers for a particular reason then?”
He gulped. He knew she knew what the flowers meant, he had hoped she would know but hearing her say it aloud made him nervous. He wasn’t going to take it back, wasn’t going to deny it but he had picked these particular flowers to say what he didn’t have another way to say.
“I guess I-I did yes.”
“Good,” she smiled. “Because I wanted to give them to you because they’re the same flowers I would have picked for you. Because I… have also read a few books about them.”
“Oh yeah well that figures since you’re in the gardening club and you-uh,” he looked from the transformed bouquet (not before noting she had added a few flowers of her own to enhance it) back to her looking as though she was waiting. She was waiting for him.
Waiting for him to understand why they’d buy the same flowers.
“Hunter, you know I like you, right?”
She said it so simply, so easily, so street-of-factly as though she was reminding him of the weather or day of the week. He had hoped everything was adding up but when he applied probability to the idea of Willow liking him he always left room for error. He was always 75% sure or 80% but never 100%. He knew his judgment was clouded by a selfish, confusing desire. He knew wanting wasn’t enough to make something so. But he didn’t know how else to turn the gamete, he didn’t see how just being himself was enough to win her over.
But somehow it was.
“I… suspected that maybe the feelings between us were… slightly more than platonic?” He said, unable to bring forth a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ because it just wasn’t simple for him, it just wasn’t. “That’s uh what the gardenias were meant to symbolize.” He wasn’t nearly as confident and cool and he had sought out to be, but that didn’t seem to bother Willow who was bouncing on her heels as the words bubbled up inside her, as though they couldn’t decide if she was about to fly away or burst as she delighted in his response and was eager to share more.
“So I was wondering if you’d want to come to my roller derby match later,” she said bashfully. “I know it’s kind an unusual date since we can’t really talk while I’m skating and it’s a little loud so I don’t know if you’d feel comfortable and it’s okay if you’re not but either way after we could go get ice cream and I know this spot in the park by the lake and I thought we could-.”
“A date?” Hunter gulped, acting as though the word had been lost to society until Willow rediscovered it. He wasn’t used to second chances, especially when he felt he hadn’t earned the first one, but once again Willow knew more.
“Uh yeah,” she said with a nervous giggle. “Tonight.”
“W-with me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But… why?”
“Because I like you silly.”
“I know but… why?” he looked at her from behind the flowers, almost startled.
He could justify that Willow didn’t know him well enough to like him, but the side of him that she did know wasn’t exactly the most appealing. The students called him a narc, a nerd, annoying; things he couldn’t exactly argue with. But beneath that even he wasn’t exactly sure what he was, so did Willow see more or did she just not believe it? Sometimes he didn’t really like being himself so it was hard to keep up the charade that someone as vibrant and silly as Willow would like being with him more than what was necessary.
“I told you,” she said sweetly as she pushed past a rose to see him better. “I can tell you’re a warm and friendly person. I also know you’re smart and passionate and cute and I wanna know more about you and spend time with you.”
“Wow thanks,” he breathed, holding her gaze as everything else around them went silent. His instinct to mention how packed his schedule was as he had grown to instinctively do when he longed to do anything that couldn’t enrich his transcript. He didn’t want to talk her out of it or deny he liked the sound of it, he just didn’t know how to say that yet. “Y-you too.”
“Thanks,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was also wondering if maybe you’d wanna wear my captain’s jacket.”
“Wear your jacket?”
“Yeah, cause Skara has her boyfriend wear hers as a way to like show everyone they’re together so I thought maybe if you wanted to we could… do that… too.”
It took a moment for Hunter to process the request within the request but when he finally did, his eyes widened in wonder. “You want me to be your boyfriend?”
“Mhm-hmm,” she said with a smile and a nod.
It was everything all at once, Hunter was sure he must have wandered into a dream.
“And you want people to know I’m your boyfriend?”
“Mhm-hmm,” she repeated, this time more bubbly as she felt like she was about to leap out of her skin. “I uh I know it’s technically breaking dress code and it might be too soon so it’s okay if you don’t-.”
“I’ll wear it!” he said much louder than he meant to, as though worried that not answering right away would cause her to take it back. “I-I wanna wear it! Of course I will! Yes!”
“Okay!” Willow giggled as she bent down to fish it from her bag. She held it out to Hunter and he looked at it like it was a corner of the sky. She took the flowers back from him as he slipped the jacket over his uniform. He knew it was impractical and he would get too hot and surely be told by the first teacher who saw him to keep it in his locker but he didn’t care. The smell of fresh grass and jasmine filled his nose, and he felt giddy to be in the jacket he had seen her in so many times. His arms were longer than hers and the sleeves bunched higher up on his arms but it had always been long on her and it fell perfectly on him. It was pristine and he knew she had washed and carefully folded it with the intention to give it to him.
“H-how do I look?”
“Cute!” she beamed as she smoothed the collar and Hunter felt he would melt. He meant alot to her. She didn’t care that talking to him could be considered social suicide, let alone so publicly declaring an advanced friendship between them. She had a confidence rooted in kindness that he hoped was contagious enough that he made her feel as safe and seen as he did in her perfect, peridot eyes. But as much as he was willing to publicly wear his feelings for her on his sleeve (well technically it was her sleeve since it was her jacket, right?) there were still things he felt more comfortable expressing in private.
“Um…c-can I give you something of mine to wear?” he asked timidly, clearing his throat as he tried to shake the nerves to sound suave.
Willow nodded excitedly, having the exact Monday she had hoped for as Hunter reached inside to his own jacket as he fetched something small from it and quickly placed it in her hands.
“Your honor society pin?” Willow marveled as though he had given her a diamond. “Hunter, are you sure?”
“Yeah, uh Amity lets Luz wear hers and I always secretly thought it was kind of… romantic but if you think it's weird I can find something else-.”
“Are you kidding? I love it!” she declared as she held it close to her heart. “Thank you Hunter, this is so sweet! I’m gonna wait to put it on so it doesn’t get lost during the match. Can you hold onto it for me until then?”
“Of course,” he said, as he went to take it. “I’ll give it to you after you win.”
“Aw,” she said. “I think it’ll be my new lucky charm.”
He looked down as saw her hand had not left his, happily content to be held by his as her finger danced to intertwine with his and a very familiar idea reappeared in his head, as though the timing had been gifted to him. But the hallway wasn’t the right place.
“S-shoud I walk you to class then?” he transitioned. “I uh don’t want you to be late.”
“Well then,” she said with delight, reconfiguring their hands to link pinkies with his. “Let’s go.”
“Y-yeah let’s,” said Hunter happily as he allowed her to help him roll slowly down the hall. Her grip on him was gentle, but he felt secure in his link to her.
“Um, actually I need to make a small detour first,” he said after a moment when they had escaped one of the more populated parts on the hallway.
“Oh, of course,” said Willow. “Did you forget something?”
“Uh, no I just wanted to see if I could get a vase for the flowers,” he said. “To keep them looking great, er m-maybe there’s one in the janitor’s closet?’
“You wanna look in the janitor’s closet?” Willow repeated.
“Uh… yeah?”
“Hmmm… sounds good to me!” she said with a shrug as they turned the corner, and ever the gentleman he held the door open for her.
She knew he knew nothing (or at least, wasn’t able to focus on in this moment) the implications of quickly whisking her into a janitor’s closet before the bell rang. But she couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him.
He carefully closed the door behind them as Willow took in the sight of carefully organized buckets, mops, and large rolls of toilet paper. There was barely enough room in the closet for the both of them let alone a shelf of emergency vases.
“So… just need to get a vase, huh?” she asked playfully and Hunter quickly spun to face her, his face stung with guilt.
“Okay, to be honest I’m fairly certain there are no vases in here,” he admitted, unaware it was unnecessary. “Actually, I’m positive; I put them away myself after the student council luncheon.”
“So then, what are we here looking for?’
“Um well, actually I thought I could uh,” Hunter began as he cleared his throat. “G-give you uh something else for luck...too.”
“Oh yeah?” Willow asked, raising her eyebrow flirtatiously. “What did you have in mind?”
It sent Hunter over the edge as he let out a high, nervous laugh and hid his face in the bouquet, overwhelmed in a way that felt both new and familiar. He felt the subtle need to still check to see they were not being watched before he quickly darted down and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. His heart pounded as he pulled away just as quickly as she looked back at him with an absolutely smitten gaze.
“Hehe okay,” she giggled, her mind joyfully flooding with the reality that she couldn’t tease Hunter about people thinking they ducked into the closet to kiss and get him flustered at the misunderstanding.Now she was the one flustered but there was no misunderstanding.
“I just um thought it was fair ya know?” he said as though his actions needed a more complex explanation. “Since you gave me your jacket and the flowers and that’s two things I wanted to give you two things so you would know t-that I uh-.”
“Well hold on, technically you gave me the flowers first so you did give me two things so I actually owe you one,” she stood up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment before returning to the ground. He smiled, feeling as though he was a part of the world’s best inside joke .
“Well you added flowers of your own so that can count as another thing,” he said, matching her tone, leaning down to press another kiss to her other cheek and lingering for a moment just as she did. Her face was soft and warm and somehow made him feel like a dream did.
“Actually, I should probably thank you for each flower,” said Willow, shuffling forward to take hold of his lapel as she brought him down to her level this time as her lips crashed into him like a wave, seeking to cover every inch of his doting, dumbstruck face as he surrendered his balance to her affections. He was more than fine collapsing into her as she decorated him with rapid kisses, as though she was bestowing one for every flower in her greenhouse.
Too enamored with each other they didn’t notice the door handle begin to turn. They didn’t notice the door had opened until their private, idyllic atmosphere of the closet was broken by the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway.
They froze as they slowly turned their heads to see who stood in the doorframe. Hunter panicked, knowing how it would look to have a student council member littered with dress code violations sitting on a bucket as he forgot how to breathe because the prettiest girl in the whole school covered his face in kisses. What would they think?
Well, what beside ‘lucky him?’
More importantly, how would their reputations survive? He winced., knowing Willow must be mortified to be caught with him and having someone think-
“Oh, hi Gus!” Willow giggled, and Hunter could tell she found it more humorous than embarrassing. Hunter held his breath as he tried to read Gus’ expression, knowing if he was at risk of being blackmailed or sent to the principal’s office or if he’d tell Willow she was making a bad decision or if he’d-.
“Oh, so he said ‘yes?’” Gus asked nonchalantly, taking the jacket as a sign in addition to their… situation.
“Yup!” Willow replied happily, adjusting her glasses.
“Cool, congrats guys,” said Gus, looking down to check the time and text Luz to let her know Willow wasn’t running late but was just… occupied. “Does he wanna sit with us at lunch?”
“Do you?” Willow asked, admiring the lipstick marks all over his face, a lipstick she may or may not have purposely worn in case an opportunity such as this presented itself.
He nodded, unable to form worlds at the moment.
“Cool, well the first bell just rang,” Gus let them know as he went to shut the door. “Don’t be late.”
“K, thanks!” called Willow. “Bye!”
“Did you uh wanna get to class then?” Hunter asked with a gulp, weirdly not caring about preserving his perfect attendance as he was captivated by the way even in the low watt lighting she reassembled an angel. He was suddenly aware of her hands still resting on his chest as though keeping him tethered to the earth and allowing him to linger in the moment just as her lips had once lingered on his.
Please say no, please say no the less poetic part of his brain couldn’t help but think.
“We’ve got time still,” she said as though reading his mind as she wiped a smudge of raspberry gloss from his top lip before leaping up to assure the door was really locked this time. “I know the quickest way everywhere on skates.”
And she crashed into him again.
She didn’t mention that she may have memorized his schedule in order to increase her chances of running into him between classes after the first time he had threatened to write her up. Ever since she had been doodling his initials in hearts in the corner of her notebooks, finding delight in every rip and tear her mode of transportation granted her as she knew he would drop the facade to sew it up for her, treasuring every time she got him to crack a smile
He spent so much time trying to catch her that it had taken him so long to realize that she was waiting for him to catch up to her.
#huntlow#huntlow fanfiction#toh#the owl house#willow park#hunter toh#fanfiction#ask#huntlow au#winter toh
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Reborn Into BG3: Chapter 9
You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.
Chapter 9: You lose something, but maybe a certain devil can help you out?
Word count: 2K
A/N: Okay, but should we start to focus on one companion for romance??
Your body is warm as you drift between sleeping and waking. It’s like you’re sitting by a fireplace, wrapped in a soft blanket while a winter storm rages outside. Like sleeping in on a Sunday morning with nowhere to be for the day. You could stay there forever, resisting the pull of the waking world with a grimace.
“You took quite the hit,” a deep voice says, “and for a bear no less.”
Right, you were bleeding, concussed. You should really open your eyes to see what’s happening, but they only flutter shut again. There’s a dim light overhead that disturbs your peaceful warmth, and when you turn away from it you feel the cold stone on your cheek.
Stone. Blood. Bear. Your eyes open—slowly despite the shot of fear that courses through your body. After a few blurry blinks you’re able to make out the vague shape of a person's head, then long brown hair that’s partly tied back and braided, and a smile.
“Welcome back,” Halsin says. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to heal you—we had to get the goblins out of the way first.”
“We?” you repeat.
Another face comes into view, the horns on top of Tav’s head nearly poking out one of Halsin’s eyes. The druid backs off to let your companions fuss over you.
Dried blood has crusted on your forehead and cheek. You wipe at it and it begins to flake away with ease; whatever healing magic Halsin used on you has sealed the wound and dried the blood.
Tav moves behind you and slides his hands under your back, giving you a push upright. Almost your full weight is on him until you’re sitting up, still trying to blink away little spots in your vision.
“What happened?” you ask. “Did I win?”
You’re not even sure what you’re asking.
“Against a rock?” Astarion says. “No. Against the worm in your head…that’s another story.”
You take a deep inhale, surveying the faces around you. There’s worry on almost all of them, but something else. More than concern for your repeated blows to the head. It isn’t until you follow Astarion’s gaze to something to your left that you understand.
You jump away, scurrying back just like when you’d found the boar in your tent. There, lying lifelessly on the stone floor, is a mindflayer tadpole. Your stomach lurches as Tav picks it up between two claws then tosses it behind him.
“The tadpoles leave the host when it dies,” Halsin says. “Though what caused it to leave this time, I’m not sure.”
“How did it—what part of me—where did it leave from?” You stand, head shaking. “No, I don’t want to know. I’ve never been so glad to be knocked unconscious.”
You waver on your feet, world spinning. When you hold your hands out to balance yourself you’re lifted off your feet and into the arms of Tav.
“I can walk,” you say, though you don’t know if that’s true. Besides, there is a lot of blood on Tav that can’t be all goblin—he didn’t have to carry you back to camp.
“I shouldn’t have let you leave,” Tav replies. “I’m sorry.”
“I volunteered.” Your fact does little to lighten his mood, his lips still in a firm line. “Besides, if I hadn’t failed my persuasion roll I probably would have been fine.”
Tav only furrows his brow at your words.
“I’m sorry to leave like this but I must return to the grove,” Halsin announces. He doesn’t even have to step towards you to take your hand in his; he never strayed far after healing you. “Please, speak with me there when you can.”
You watch as Halsin places a gentle kiss on your knuckles, unable to do anything else as your face heats. He adds, “And thank you for what you did.”
You stutter a quiet “No problem” just before he transforms into a rat and dashes off.
“Oof!” Karlach places a hand over her heart dramatically. “He’s a charming one, isn’t he?”
You don’t trust your voice to not come out as a squeak so you say nothing. Your attention returns to the tadpole that disappeared into the shadows of the cell. Should you really leave it there? Was it really dead?
“Did it…did it really leave?” you ask. Are they going to leave you behind now that you’re no longer sharing their affliction? You wet your lips.
“We think that may be why Priestess Gut said the Absolute abandoned you,” Gale explains. He’s standing by Astarion, your staff in hand. He gives it a shake. “Though she was none too impressed to see you with this. But that’s something we can discuss when you haven’t been imprisoned by goblins, hit with large rocks, or—fed upon.”
You think you catch a dirty look from Gale to Astarion but it’s too dark and you’re too woozy to tell.
You want to ask, “what now”, even as you stay held close to Tav. But the words don’t come. You know the answer after all this—they’ll definitely kick you out of the camp because so far you’ve done nothing but suck up all their healing supplies. You have plenty of money to survive after all, and Halsin will probably let you stay in the grove for a while. There’s a lump forming in your throat at the thought of going out on your own but what choice do you have?
Maybe Karlach can tell what you’re thinking, or maybe she’s just tired, too. She says, “I think it’s about time we head back yeah?”
You swallow down the lump, nose starting to run as you hold back tears. Pain is coming back to your body, Halsin’s healing wearing off. It did its job of keeping you alive, and now it is your body that must do the rest of the work. You can feel the bruises along your back, hips and sides where the goblins jabbed you, as well as the forming headache. If the headache is from the rocks striking you or the tadpole you don’t know. Either way, you wish that stupid thing had at least stayed in your head when it died.
When Tav starts to walk you let him carry you without complaint, even resting your head against his shoulder, eyes closed. Whatever happened to the goblins and their leaders remains unknown as he carries you out, but it’s silent in the camp.
The group is silent, too. Maybe they’re letting you rest while you can, you think, or maybe they’re trying to decide who gets to be the one to kick you to the curb. You don’t think about it too long.
When you feel fresh non-bloodstained air on your cheeks you open your eyes. You’re across the bridge and heading towards the blighted village already. Every step they take is a step closer to you being completely alone.
The scent of sulphur wafts towards you before you hear a strange sound, like a campfire being started. Almost a poof, but not quite. The group turns quickly to face the source: Raphael. Tav puts you down as gently as possible, ready to draw his weapon when Raphael starts talking.
“Now, now, I’m not here for a fight…” His speech starts and finishes, and then with a snap of his fingers you’re all inside the House of Hope. The scene progresses, Tav denying the devil every chance he gets until the end and they’re transported back to where you were.
Without you.
Raphael, now in his full cambion form is observing you, a hand to his chin.
“You, uh, you missed one,” you tell him.
He quirks one eyebrow. “Did I?”
Raphael moves towards you and with every step you have to tilt your head further back just to look him in the eye. When he’s an arm's length away you step back until your thighs hit the table and he doesn’t stop until he’s nearly on top of you. Your voice is shaky when you speak. “Y-yep. I don’t even have a tadpole so what good would a deal with me be?”
His smile never drops, never reveals what he’s thinking. “You don’t, not anymore. As fascinating as that is, I’m more interested in procuring something else you have.”
You point to yourself. “Me? What do I have?”
Raphael reaches for your face, and with nowhere to go you stay as still as possible. Those claws feel bigger than Halsin’s in his bear form, but Raphael is gentle as he strokes a knuckle along your cheek.
“You, my dear,” he says, almost wistfully, “have more than you know. But you don’t know anything do you? Just a name and a place; Baldur’s Gate.”
You gulp. Even when he takes his hand away you feel the heat of his skin on your cheek. He doesn’t step back, closing you in with his size and outstretched wings. “I guess it’d be silly to ask how you know that.”
His smile grows, entertained by your question. “I could help with that—your memories, your life here.”
The way he stresses the last word gives you a shock like when Priestess Gut had looked at you.
“No, thank you. Now, if you could just send me back—”
“What will you do when they leave you?”
The question halts your words, your very thoughts. You peer up into Raphael’s red eyes. He continues, “Without the tadpole binding you, you’ve no reason to stay. Where will you go? Gold can take you only so far.”
You don’t answer. You don’t have an answer. You ask, “You know who I am?”
“And then some,” he answers.
You swallow your fear, again, and shake your head. He’s a devil! Evil! Your identity isn’t worth your soul, which you’ve come to learn is real and eternal.
“I’ll be here,” Raphael tells you, “I’m sure you know how to find me.”
In a plume of smoke you’re back on the dirt road that travels between the shrine and the village. You stay stock still as if the predator is still in front of you, eyes on the ground. You hear someone call your name, but it isn’t until Tav shakes your shoulders that you can react. “What?”
“Please tell me you didn’t make a deal,” Karlach begs. If she couldn’t burn your skin off you think it would be her shaking you out of your trance.
“No,” you reply. “No. No! Of course not.”
Each of the companions let out a relieved sigh.
“What did he want with you?” Astarion asks. “Not to be rude but without the tadpole…”
You shake your head, the ache inside growing. Stop shaking your head at everything, you think. “He didn’t say.”
“What did he offer?” Gale steps up, brows pinched together as he carefully watches your expression.
“My memories,” you admit. “But I don’t think my memories are worth my soul.”
Gale’s face relaxes at your answer.
“Now there’s a devil at our door,” Astarion complains. “What next? Will we be attacked by a rabid kobold as icing on the cake?”
“All in good time,” Gale answers.
“I’d give you a hug if it wouldn’t burn your skin off,” Karlach says to you.
You smile at her, but it’s weak. You could really use that hug. Raphael’s words had echoed your own thoughts—what happens when you’re left alone, left behind, by these people? They must mistake your silence for fear, because they each give you a reassurance that as long as you don’t make a deal with a devil you’ll be fine. But you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop and feeling terribly sorry for yourself.
You muster up as much energy as possible and put it into stretching your lips into a smile. “We should probably get back to the grove. I’m sure everyone will be happy to hear the goblins aren’t a threat.”
This time you don’t let Tav pick you up, and start walking on your own two feet. You’ll have to get used to it anyway, injured or not, when they move on to the Underdark.
Taglist:
@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi @tinswhimsy @xxgrimripp3rxx @kemonocat-blog @thetiredtoad0-0 @sleepydang @iwannabealocalcryptid
#reborn into bg3#reborn into baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of money#astarion x reader#gale x reader#raphael has entered the fray#reader insert#x reader#is this angsty?
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Could we get a fic where Retro's sick?
I feel like after Retro came into the Vees' lives that the trio would basically forget how to do the tasks Retro took over and enter full blown panic mode if Retro ever got sick.
Not a fic, but here’s some ideas as to how it’d go!
-When Retro gets sick, they are dying from like, everything. Remember, sea bunnies have high tolerance to poisons toxins, and I’m pretty sure, germs. Like everything else with Retro, it doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s bad.
-they are super sensitive to everything. From touch, to sound, to smell, taste and seeing. The lights have to be dim.
-they hate bright lights (Vox has to dim his screen and Val’s not allowed to bring a lamp) silence will probably lead to crying, they’ll need some background noises. Static or ambience will do the trick.
-above all else? They cannot be trusted to be left alone.
-Retro wants food, but their stomach hurts. They specifically want the food that only they can cook, so they can’t even have the food they’re craving because they can’t cook because they’re sick.
-they want cuddles, hugs, and kisses but can’t have any because touching them is the equivalent to touching an actual sea bunny- which means you’ll be poisoned. Vox is the only one who’s immune because he’s biomechanical.
-They sleep walk and hum a bit, which terrifies Valentino. They’ll wander around and try to clean, but it’s just a bunch of stumbling and half hearted tunes. They try to take a shower but can’t manage on their own and end up calling Vox in for back up (He’d be watching the cameras in their room and realize when they’ve been in there for too long)
-Retro will probably be very clingy and whiny, on the verge of tears at all times. They want love and affection but they can’t have it! They just want love and snuggles. Being sick sucks.
-Alastor comes over when he finds out, much to Voxs dismay. He cooks, gets Niffty to help clean (Val is stuck in Voxs office, or leaves the tower altogether, trying to avoid her wrath) and Alastor stays with Retro a good amount of the time. He plays little show tunes and sets up a radio in their room so they always have some music or white noise to keep them company if he isn’t around.
-Vox visits as often as he can manage, trying to soothe Retro. He sings little lullabies sometimes, giving them little kisses and assuring them it’ll be okay.
-Retro likes the hum of Voxs TV static (and the noises his TV head makes in general) better than the same tunes playing on the radio on repeat. They’re grateful that Alastor is helping and was thoughtful enough to gift it to them, but the sound of Voxs static is more familiar and comforting to them.
-Velvette gets stuck with laundry, and she soon realizes why Retro is always complaining about Val’s outfits. She’s also very stressed and panicked and constantly asking Vox how Retro is holding up.
-Val is in charge of cooking and doing dishes, when Alastors not around. There are notably fewer glasses broken than usual when he’s cooking, since he’s making an attempt to keep calm and quiet so Retro can rest.
-Vox doesn’t take on many more responsibilities, he’s with Retro most of the time. If he’s forced to actually go to work, he’ll spend the entire time worrying and doing research to find out what he can do to help.
#hazbin hotel#vox#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#writing#vox x reader#my writing#x reader#thanks anon!#vox fanfiction#hazbin valentino#hazbin hotel valentino#valentino x reader#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin velvette#velvette x reader
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You guys, I feel like I’m drowning. These past three weeks have felt unmanageable to me. Like, I don’t know how to keep going.
I’m walking alongside (trying the best I know how) the older girls as one navigates this break up and the other tries to transition to college. We got DD a car, but it still needs a few repairs. She was here all afternoon today working on it with DH.
I am waiting for the updated version of Ms. 6’s IEP to hit my inbox to send it off to the school. I am also working on her housing contract. Then I think I can step back for a few weeks. Still trying to figure out what’s going on with graduation. Her mom is back to letting her go to it and maybe allow her to stay for dinner, but it’s Memorial Day weekend and I don’t want to put a deposit down for a dinner somewhere only to have her not be allowed to attend at the last minute. I also don’t want to disappoint her. I’m unsure of how to proceed, so I’m just sort of frozen.
DS takes his civics test next week. You have to pass in order to graduate high school. He has prepared and seems like he will do well. He’s also pole vaulting and doing well at that for being a novice and having very little practice time due to the crummy weather we’ve been having.
Work is a lot right now. It’s to be expected due to the time of year. I can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a lot to slog through.
DH was verbally offered a job this week as a special education teacher. He is supposed to return to school to get his teaching certification in about a week, and is waiting for a letter of intent via email from the potential employer. It’s a lot. We are trying to manage the financial aid piece and we are up against a super tight deadline right now. His interview for the job was virtual, so he’s heading to the school next week to actually tour it and meet his potential coworkers. In the spirit of living in a small town, one of the women he used to live who was in live with him (for real)—the housing situation was work related—works at the school. She has legit not spoken to myself or DH since he and I got engaged so that seems like it will be super awkward (although she is also married now and has kids).
DH is finally seeing a decent therapist and between the therapist and neuropsych eval he had done during fall, it is apparent he is super depressed. Depressed is apparently his baseline and super depressed happens quite a bit. It is helpful to have it identified, but wow, it is a lot to live with. I am really struggling as his wife because he cannot do much and is not really emotionally available 90% of the time. He’s so inwardly focused, that he cannot focus on me, the kids, relationships, stuff that needs to be done, etc. I’m drowning and he cannot take on any of the workload. It sucks.
My endocrin had me take b12 supplements the last three months and my level actually decreased. I’m starting up with b12 injections next week. My TSH is also super, super low which means I’m hyperhyroid and should be losing weight, but I’m gaining which also sucks.
My endocrin is out of network for me which means my injections will be out of network. I have ZERO out of network benefits. The whole healthcare system is atrocious. I refuse to go back to the three endocrins I saw before I connected with my current one. They were all terrible, but in network. I need a super expensive full body scan but I for sure cannot pay for that out of pocket, so I’m waiting to see if my GP will prescribe it when I see him in June.
My crown also broke this week and when the dentist looked at it, I had worn a hole clear through the middle. He said it was due to grinding/stress. I wear a mouth guard religiously at night, so it’s happening during the day. :-/ Cue more medical bills. They glued my current one back on and can’t get me in to work on repair until June. I almost cried when trying to schedule with them because I just cannot even do all of this any more. (It also hurt wicked bad last time they fixed it so I’m somewhat terrified to return.)
That’s my list of complaints/brain dump. There’s more, but I need to wrap up some grading and get dinner going. I miss a life that was easier and less complicated.
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