#AGAIN not trying to argue about which pairing is better this is just a pattern of behavior i have noticed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monzabee · 1 year

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two sides of the same coin - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one.

Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

2018

“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”

“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”

You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad.

“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.”

“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you.

He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.”

“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look.

You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of “No one asked you,” under your breath.

“Play nice, Max Emilian.” Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?”

“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.”

“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”

“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.”

He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”

“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”

“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”

You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!”

“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”

“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.”

“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!”

Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?”

2019

It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race.

So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother.

Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice.

You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different.

2020

Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode.

It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum.

“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.”

You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble.

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”

“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.”

And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.”

“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.”

“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice.

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite.

2021

Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms.

Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine.

There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day.

An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”

You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up.

You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide.

“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection.

“Maybe I should.”

“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask.

His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”

“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?”

“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose.

“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”

“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity.

“Female intuition.”

He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.”

He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.

2022

Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.

You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves.

The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear.

“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.”

Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”

There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.”

You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door.

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio.

You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max.

“Marry me, liefje.” He says.

You nod your head, “Yes.”

He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine.

2023

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.”

“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”

“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you.

You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.”

“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle.

“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.”

“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs.

“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.”

“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”

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elfven-blog · 8 months

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Better than the mutt

Summary: Your bunny appears to be jealous. Bunny!Leon x f!reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, bunny!leon, fingers, p in v, reader is called slut, public sex. Word count: 1.9K

The weather had gotten warmer lately, and it had you wearing less and less clothing. Or at least as little amount of clothing as you could get away with. Not that your bunny ever minded. Not as his hands wandered and his mouth followed the path his tongue left, which while you enjoyed the attention he lathered onto you, it could be awfully distracting while you were doing literally anything.

But you never told him to stop, which is definitely what led you to this situation. You had been trying to wash the dishes from the previous night, but Leon had other ideas as he forced you to bend over. Hand holding you against the sink as he pushed your skirt up and roughly tore your tights all so he could play with your clit. His rough fingers circling at the bud as he licked at your neck, biting small marks into the already decorated skin wherever he could.

Your slick coated the panties he’d pulled to the side so that while his fingers played with your clit, his thumb pressed into your dripping hole again and again. Your legs shaking as your arms struggled to hold you up, body weight fully resting on the side as he continued to stretch you on his thumb. Your head lowering onto your arms as the pleasure builds in you before he’s pulling completely away from you. Body jerking forwards as his hand slaps down onto your ass with a loud ringing “better finish up the washing, sweet doe”.

This had been a pattern of his for the last few days, getting you as close to release as possible before leaving you a mess where you were. You prided yourself on knowledge of bunny behaviour, having spent ages researching before even adopting Leon so that when you got him, you wouldn’t accidentally offend him. You knew that with the preening and grooming you gave him; he viewed that as him being in charge…especially with how your relationship had developed recently. You knew that he had the penchant of stomping his feet when he was annoyed, and though he would never admit it, you had seen him flop in happiness at least once.

But this new behaviour was new territory, you figured maybe he just liked to edge you on, maybe he thought the sex was better after he’d teased you all day and then when he settled between your legs it was like heaven for him. It’s not like you would complain anyway, you liked the attention and the way it felt to have him tease you for so long before he couldn’t help himself.

You had no idea what was going through that bunny’s mind.

With how hot it was, you had decided it was the perfect time to let Leon get some time outside. Often it was far too cold for him to spend too long out there, but now with the warmth of the sun you were able to take him out for longer and even spend some time with friends and Leon was able to get some social time with the other hybrids you knew too. Mainly you spent time with Jill, and the hybrid siblings you had both grown up with. Sometimes Chris, the rottweiler, was a little harsher on Leons ears than he should be, but his sister Claire always made him be more gentle with a quick tug of his own ears.

You smiled and shook your head as you watched that exact scenario play out, the Cocker Spaniel hybrid causing her brother to let out a loud whine while Leon rubbed at his ear. Deciding that he’d rather be out the way of the rambunctious siblings, he quickly made his way to the chair next to you. His head leaning on you shoulder as he watched the two argue with each other. Jill sighed shaking her head at the pair.

She turned to you with a sad smile, shrugging her shoulders “I suppose that’s the end of today, no way I can stay out with those two arguing” you shook your own head with a small laugh, shrugging Leons shoulder off lightly before standing to give Jill a hug.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll have to meet up without the three another day” you sent her a small wink, ignoring as Leon huffed at the suggestion. You only looked at him with a raised eyebrow causing the rabbit hybrid to look away with a pout on his lips as you all said bye to each other. You didn’t notice how the blonde seemed to tense as Chris hugged you, almost pulling you off your feet to do so.

You and Leon started your own way home you could almost cut the tension with a knife. A frown had made it’s why onto your own face, pulling the corners of your lips down as you tried to figure out what had changed so quickly from this afternoon to now. Nothing had really happened, there was no argument between the both of you.

Leons eyes seemed to stay away from you as you walked, his hands in his pocket and his tail almost frozen while making your way home. That was until it was like the invisible force snapped, and he was pulling you into an alleyway, barely hidden from sight as he pushed you against the wall.

“Leon what are you-“ your question is cut off as his lips meld to yours, tongue licking into your mouth until your panting and spit drools down your chin. His hands push the skirt up again, fingers slowly tracing your panties before ripping them off and leaving you with nothing to cover. His hands move from under the skirt, roughly groping at your tits as his fingers pinch at your nipples until their hard and sore.

He pulls his head away, only to bite hard into your skin before his tongue sooths over the new mark. Your head is reeling with the sudden actions of your bunny “Did you like sweet doe? With that fucking dog touching you? Liked the way he tried to show of his strength? Like any mutt could match a buck’s stamina”

And suddenly it made sense. Your bunny was jealous. A gasp left your mouth, lips parting as he continued to litter you in purples and reds, his hand travelling down again to feather against your pussy lips. A smirk on his lips that you could feel against the skin of your neck as “So wet, doe, so wet” his fingers ignored the needing clit, pushing into your soaked cunt and causing you to whine at the sudden feeling “No…no one can breed you like me”.

He worked another finger into your dripping pussy, making sure to work you open as his tongue licked into your mouth again, muffling the moans falling from your mouth. As your legs shook until your thighs were coated with slick, and you arched into Leon. And then he pulled away, just like earlier. You almost had tears in your eyes.

“Shhh shhh, s’okay. Gonna give my doe what she deserves, remind her and everyone who she belongs too” His words had you biting your lips, hands moving to fumble with his own belt and jeans. Not wanting to wait a moment longer. Leon could almost laugh as he watched his precious doe before deciding to help you out and pulling his jeans and underwear down. His cock already hard and leaking.

Your own tongue darting out to wet your lips as your fingers touched the hot skin, leons head falling back from the contact and his ears twitching in time with his cock. His hands wrapped around your wrist so he could pull your hand away with a tut. “nu uh, no time pretty girl, gotta feel you around me”. Those words could be the death of you.

His hand moved to lift one of your legs around his waist, his other hand wrapping around himself. The fat head slapped against your neglected tip in a way that had you rolling your hips forward. As Leon felt you move forwards he couldn’t help but sink into that warmth, his body caging you against the brick wall as the both of you moaned. His cock stretching you out as he sank until balls deep, your pussy stretched around him. You stayed like that for a moment until Leon pressed a kiss to your cheek and then his hips moved backwards, only his tip left inside you. Your arms made their way around his back to try and pull him into you again, which he happily obliged with. His hips rutting forwards again and again as he fucked you against the wall.

Your mouth open against his shirt, soaking it in your spit as you moaned against his chest. His hand pushing your head further into the fabric to smother the noises as a way of trying to hide what you were doing. But with he pace he set, the sound of skin slapping and your pussy trying to suck his cock in more filled the space anyway.

Leons eyes darted around the area, almost lighting up as he whispered into your ear “Anyone could walk down here or look out a window” each word was accompanied by a harsh thrust of his hips “See how much of a slut you are” his hand travelled under your skirt, circling at your clit, and your leg tightened its grip on his waist.

His pace speeds up as he buries himself deeper inside you, clearly excited at the idea of someone seeing the both of you like this. With slick dripping down to the concrete below you, and your mind empty as his cock knocked up against your cervix. Leon groaned as he felt your pussy spasm around him, legs shaking and hands digging into his back.

His fingers rub and pinch at your clit while his cock bullies into you, your moans getting louder until he pulls your head back so he can harshly kiss you. Tongue fucking into your mouth at the same pace his cock fucks into your pulsing hole. When he pulls away a little, his eyes are almost black as he watched your eyes cloud with lust. And then he spits into your mouth which you quickly swallow before sticking your tongue out for more.

Leon is happy to deliver, his thrusts have your back pushing against the wall in a painful way but it only adds to the pleasure you feel as your bunny abuses your cunt. “Such a whore like this, letting me fuck ‘er in public” his words have you whining with a pout before he shushes you, his fingers pinching a bit harshly at your clit as your back arches.

Your pussy clamps onto his cock, your back slumping against the wall as your hold loosens and your orgasm has your head spinning. Leons own head falling back at the feeling as his mouth opens with a load grunt. His hips don’t stop as he keeps rutting into you, but it doesn’t take long till his entire weight is on you and you feel his cock twitch as hot thick ropes of cum flood your pussy. And you both hiss as his cock drags along your walls until he’s pulling out.

The sound of your laboured breaths fill the alley, and Leon gently massages at your sides and thighs as you try to catch your breaths. His hand dips down below your skirt again, gathering the mix of your slick and his cum on his fingers before pushing it into your mouth to clean. “Always look so pretty cleaning my fingers like that.”

And he promises you a warm bath and a nap when you get home.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #bunny!leon #leon kennedy x f!reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #bunny!leon x reader #resident evil x reader #re4!leon kennedy x reader

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anystalker707 · 7 months

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Playing with fire (amab version)

Pairing: Vinsmoke Niji x [gn, amab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Hate fucking + Semi-public Tags: He's very vocal / Against a wall / Some insults, nothing serious [afab version]

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“You are so useless, such a lowlife, that you don’t know how to act at parties. Ridiculous pirate.” Of course, he had to approach you with insults already, mouth twisted as he held a glass in hand.

Niji had a pattern whenever he approached you, including insulting the fact you were a pirate and/or anything you did, sometimes your appearance. It was like having an inverse Sanji around, which wasn’t exactly the best experience, but you couldn’t do a lot other than wait for your crew to get you after the Vinsmoke family managed to get their hands on you. Honestly, the Germa Kingdom was so boring and annoying. Death would’ve been more accessible.

Apparently, there was some gathering going on in that shitty castle, and you were obligated to be around—they knew you wouldn’t run away since you were in a place you knew nothing of, alone, but they still wanted to know where you were. You chose to sit on the sill of one of the many windows in the room, away from the attention of most of them. It felt like you were wasting time; you could be training with Zoro, cooking with Sanji, playing cards with Usopp and Chopper, but no, you were just sitting there and looking out the window of some ridiculous castle.

“I’m talking to you,” Niji reinforced as he stepped closer.

You were bored with it already, sighing as you looked up at him. “What do you want me to do? I don’t wanna argue, nor do I have the energy to prove you wrong.”

Niji’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could imagine him giving you a look of disdain from behind his pathetic glasses. Did he know he didn’t exude half of the power he thought he had? None of the three did, actually. You couldn’t believe you were caught by the goddamn Power Rangers.

“You’re truly stupid,” Niji muttered with a sigh. “With that bounty, being part of that crew, I thought you’d be better than that.”

“If I’m such a bad company, then maybe you should try keeping your distance from me,” you answered in the same beat, almost cutting him off. It surprised him, in a way he couldn’t even react in time. You snatched the glass from his hand and took a sip from the drink. At least it was good—maybe they spent their money on something worth it. They had some booze you’d like to share with Zoro if he were there.

“Who do you think you are?” Niji reached for the glass again, but you stood up and took a step back.

“Pirates will act like pirates,” you said, just to annoy him.

He growled as he stepped after you, stopping in frustration once you downed the rest of the drink. “You—”

“What will you do?” You raised your eyebrows, opening a window and tossing the glass out of it. His hand wrapped around your wrist tightly, but it didn’t even intimidate you. “Kill me? Yeah, you can’t. You gotta put up with me, at least until my crew is here, idiot. You must think you’re so cool with that damn stupid hair—”

“We can just find another way around the situation if you die,” Niji said as he cornered you. Maybe you wished you hadn’t chosen to sit in an empty part of the wide room, but you weren’t exactly opposed to a change in the boring routine there. “They won’t even know you’re dead until they get here.”

“And then what?” You raised your eyebrows. “You’ll get away by disappointing your father? I bet that stupid redhead would even tell him something like ‘I told you so’.”

Niji’s temper—or at least his behavior towards you—was a little more different from his siblings’. Reiju and Yonji didn’t seem particularly worried about you, but they didn’t do a lot when seeing you either; Yonji just made a comment trashing the Strawhats in general. Ichiji wasn’t nice, but he wasn’t responsive to your reactions; he decided that he was superior to you and just acted on it, not paying attention to ‘some pirate’. Niji, however, would attack you and get more intense when you responded, something almost childish, but that built a specific tension between you two. Was it just impulsive? Or did he enjoy it? You liked playing with it, either way. He wasn’t the priority to the others, at the moment, so he couldn’t actually harm you.

“You’re acting up a little too much for someone like you,” Niji muttered, but it was interrupted by a gasp when you stepped forward, bumping your chests together, and he was the one with his back against the wall instead.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “You don’t know me. All you’ve seen is my bounty posters. When my crew gets here, if I get an actual opportunity to fight you…”

Niji scoffed. “I’d like to see it happen.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a small step back, but Niji immediately pushed you back by your shoulders, making you stumble back into one of the dark halls that connected to the main room. There was a turn before you were practically pinned to the wall again. It was relatively dark—the only light that came in was from outside a nearby wide window—and quiet, away from the main room. The whole attention was there and by the main halls, so it was practically deserted.

“Now what? What are you gonna do?” Niji asked before you could.

You clicked your tongue. “You’re so annoying!”

Niji started cursing as you tugged on his shirt to pull him away, resulting in the two of you pacing back and forth depending on how the strength imbalanced between you. It was a little annoying because he wasn’t doing anything other than pushing you around, so you decided to just let go instead of fighting against him.

Something incoherent came from Niji, breath hitching in his throat as he managed to pin you to the wall—it knocked the air out of you a little since your back hit the wall more force than you expected since you’d given up suddenly. When he pinned you to the wall, however, one of his legs slipped between yours.

…Were you imagining things? Maybe he didn’t notice, breathing fanning over your face as he still panted, smelling like the booze from earlier.

“Niji,” you muttered.

“What?” His voice was sharp. A little pathetic.

You pondered the results of what you wanted to say, silent for a moment, feeling his grip tightening on you. Well, there was nothing to lose with an idiot like that.

The way you shifted made Niji stiffen a little bit—his eyes probably widened behind his glasses. Your thigh was right between his legs, too, pressing right to his crotch, and now moving against it.

“If you wanted a fuck, you could’ve asked for one,” you said with a chuckle, observing him intently. It was a shame it was so dark, and you couldn’t see his face that much.

“Don’t you—” Niji fell silent as you moved your leg a bit, breath hitching in his throat and replacing his words with a whimper at how your thigh pressed harder against him this time. It was a two-edged sword, of course, since he had a leg right between yours as well.

“Shit,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant that to feel good for you as well.

On the other hand, Niji grinned at your reaction. He leaned in lightly, but your hand grasped around his neck to hold him a safe distance away from you as you glared at him. It probably didn’t have as much power as you intended it to have, given the darkness, but it still was something.

“How about I ask you for one now, hm?” Niji whispered, breath hot against the side of your face as he tugged on your shirt a little. You still held his neck, tightening your grip a little—did he whimper because of the discomfort or because of enjoyment? Fuck. Things weren’t supposed to go that way nor make you feel that way.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Niji grinned more. “That’s the fun.”

There was barely time to react before his lips were pressed to yours. The kiss was a little forceful and harsh, but it wasn’t bad. Groans escaped your throat with how much teeth he added, biting and tugging on your lips with his teeth as if insisting a reaction out of you.

“Goddammit,” you whispered, tightening your grip around his neck until he gasped again, so you could finally keep up with the kiss. You tried to keep it a little superficial, threatening to let your nails sink into his neck whenever he started deepening the kiss or nibbling on your lips again. He became more vocal with it, whimpering a lot more, even moaning when your leg moved between his again. Was he needy?

You shifted, exchanging positions with Niji to press him to the wall this time. His hair brushed against your face as you kept kissing him—it was easier to control the kiss by keeping his head to the wall—, and it was far from nice.

“That hair of yours is ridiculous,” you muttered, moving to kiss down the side of his neck which his hair didn’t fall to. Your hand held mostly under his jaw now, tilting his head back.

Niji groaned, his hands finding your waist and gripping with more force than necessary. “Ridiculous? Watch your mouth!”

“Shut the fuck up!” You said sharply before giving him a sharper bite on his neck. It made him whimper, of course, but he did fall silent. “Good,” you muttered, pulling back for a moment. “Maybe you should be the one to watch your mouth, y’know?”

He twisted his lips a little, but he couldn’t do a lot before the hands on his shoulders were pushing him down until he was on his knees, right in front of you. Since you hadn’t moved, he was practically trapped between your crotch and the wall. You wished you could see his eyes, without those glasses, but the surprised expression on his face was pleasing either way.

“Is that mouth of yours only good for insulting others?” You undid your pants—they’d been uncomfortably tight for a while, so you couldn’t help the groan that escaped your lips as soon as you lowered your pants and boxers. You stepped back to give Niji some space, but your cock still brushed against his cheek as you did so.

“I…” Niji interrupted himself, cheeks red as he slowly reached to hold on to your thighs. He hummed softly, letting his tongue run between his lips to wet them.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, placing a finger under his chin to hold his head up. “Open wide, prince.”

Niji’s lips parted open, tongue out, ready to receive your cock as you guided it into his mouth with your free hand. The warm, wet feeling made you gasp, letting out a moan when Niji actually closed his lips around you. His hands adjusted around your hips before he actually started moving his head—he moved slowly at first, experimenting, and when he saw that he could actually snatch moans from you, he hollowed his cheeks.

A sharp gasp came from you, with Niji’s actions—his fingers sank into your hips as he moved his head, putting more energy into it. He only took a pause as he slowly took you deeper, making your tip reach the back of his throat, before he swallowed around you and pulled away agonizingly slowly. He wrapped a hand around the base to hold your cock in place while he tongued your tip, easily finding a spot under it that made you double over, with a forearm on the wall before you and hand tight around his shoulder.

“Fucking hell!” You moved to tug on the hair on the back of his head until he pulled away from you. “I won’t last like that!”

“Weak,” Niji said simply, licking his lips. He was messy.

“I’ll show you who’s…” Your words turned into thoughts as you motioned for him to stand up. He did so, kissing your neck as soon as he was on his feet. As much as you wanted to argue, you just let him be for a while, enjoying the nibbling and sucking on your neck while your hands worked on unbuttoning his pants.

Niji’s pants and boxers were off only one of his legs, just as he only had a shoe on by now. The urgency couldn’t have you two affording removing your clothes carefully. Your pants were just low enough, even.

It didn’t take a lot of struggle to have Niji up in your arms, legs around your torso, given how eager he also seemed about all of this. He tried his best not to pull away from the kiss he brought you into as soon as he’d ‘undressed’ himself.

Both of you gasped once you slipped in, your cock still wet from the way he’d blown you, but it still met a little of resistance when you pushed in. It took a few thrusts until you could fuck him properly, but he’d been moaning ever since you’d first pressed to his entrance. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, nails digging into your upper back through your shirt as he held on to you, keeping pressing pecks to your lips. Did he like kissing that much?

The way Niji’s thighs were smooth under your hands made you wonder if the vanity ran in the bloodline. Your fingers sank a little into the flesh before you changed the position. It took you a little of struggle, but you finally managed to slip your arms under his legs, elbows under his knees as you held him against the wall, and the new position easily allowed you to go deeper.

A louder sound escaped Niji’s lips when you started a faster pace, snapping your hips against his.

“You’re loud,” you muttered to him, words slipping between heavy breaths. “Shut the fuck up, unless you want anyone to catch you. What if one of your brothers happened to run into us, hm? Seeing you get banged by some pirate you guys captured,” you breathed into his ear.

Somehow, your words only made Niji more vocal. He clenched around you, gummy walls pulling your cock deeper inside him, practically milking you. You let out a throaty moan, letting your thrusts get harsher. If you two get caught, the trouble would be his, either way. Loser.

“You’re good,” you whispered into his ear, “but you know who’s better? Sanji does such a good job.”

Niji hissed, clenching around you again as his nails scratched across your back. “Shut up,” he said, voice shaky and stuttering, and you could feel his thighs tensing up more under your hands. “I just—” He hissed when you slammed harder into him, getting impossibly tighter around you.

“You never stop being pathetic,” you muttered, voice tight.

A small whine came from Niji once you took a pause, adjusting your grip lightly, just to be cut off by a gasp and another loud moan the moment you started moving your hips again, using the last bit of energy you had to fuck a little harsher into him.

Niji wrapped his arms tighter around you, breath hot on your neck as he moaned, and with a few more sloppy thrusts, you were cumming deep inside him. You kept fucking him through your high, spreading the cum over his walls neatly, until you finally pulled away and let him down to his feet. His legs were a little wobbly, weak with being fucked so nicely like that, so he had to hold on you while you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, fisting it until he finally came all over your hand.

There barely was time to react before your hand was pressed to his mouth, not giving Niji much of a choice in his disoriented state aside from licking your hand clean. With your head not so fuzzy anymore, both of you slowly coming out of that bubble, you could notice the marks on Niji’s neck even in the dark.

“Heh… good luck with your neck.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #op #niji vinsmoke #x reader #x male reader #amab reader #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #kinktober #niji x male reader #niji x reader #sanji vinsmoke #imagine #oneshot

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wwinterwitch · 2 years

Text

safe space - steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve was afraid to admit his feelings for you, until the fear of losing you to someone else was stronger

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1,895

warnings/what to expect: angst and fluff, insecure!steve, jealous!steve, mentions of alcohol, house party, kissing, the fruity four is featured bc why not, sharing feelings

a/n: this was also requested so thanks to the lovely anon who requested it!!

a comment and/or reblog is always appreciated

masterlist | AO3

"Well, I'm gonna get drunk."

"Eddie!" Robin exclaimed.

"What? It's the only reason I came to this stupid party."

"I'll go with you then," she insisted, grabbing his shoulders to push him towards the backyard of the house. "I'll make sure he doesn't fall into his self-destructive tendencies!"

"You're being dramatic," he argued.

"Am I?" Robin asked. "Remember last time we had to drag you to Steve's car and you kept trying to get out, saying that you wanted to walk home 'cause the moon was pretty?"

"That was a one time thing."

"Well, this is me making sure it is a one time thing."

"Children," Nancy muttered when she saw Robin and Eddie walking away, still bickering. "Actual children."

"Yeah, I think we need to stop being friends with that many children. It's starting to become a pattern."

Nancy laughed at his comment as they both walked further inside the house. She could tell Steve was already looking for you, scanning the entirety of the place in hopes to see you somewhere.

The two of them went to get a can of soda each. Nancy didn't feel like drinking and Steve was, as always, the designated driver of the friend group.

"Maybe she's not here yet?" tried Nancy, looking up at her friend who continued to look around.

"She? Who– who are we talking about here?"

"Oh, right. As if you haven't been looking around like a complete maniac to find her," she joked. "Are you going to finally tell her?"

The answer was very clear. Despite having a massive crush on you, Steve would never in a million years tell you. He's better off dating random girls here and there that he's not really interested in at all. That's his new security system, apparently.

Because it's so easy dating someone you don't care about, and even tho Steve felt terrible for pretending with all these girls he had dated, they make him feel safe. He doesn't expect anything from then or their "relationship", because he just doesn't care. He doesn't get his hopes up, he doesn't get his heart broken.

But with you, things get complicated. He is going to expect something, he is going to get his hopes up, so he's inevitably getting his heart crushed into tiny pieces.

Steve can't go through that again. Even when him and Nancy are now very good friends and they both love each other in a platonic way, Steve could still remember how difficult it was for him to get over her. That relationship was terrible, and it left Steve thinking he wasn't meant to ever get his happy ending with someone else. It's just Steve. Steve the babysitter who's surrounded by kids. Steve the lonely guy.

So if he's not meant for serious relationships, why even bother? Might as well suffer in silence because it seems far more tolerable than having to suffer for someone else that doesn't want to be with you.

Though it was difficult, because even tho you didn't hang out most of the time, you happened to be one of the unlucky people in Hawkins that know about the Upside Down, which mean you have hanged out sometimes.

Your family is very close to the Byers, you and Jonathan practically growing up together, so ever since Will got missing you were very involved in the search, quickly becoming part of the group. You knew about what was happening even before he did.

So every time something Upside Down related happens, you'll be there. And Steve has to pretend like you're not the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, or that you're practically all he can think about whenever you're around. Problem was that you never seemed to show any interest in him that passed the barrier of a simple friendship. You treated him the same way as you would treat everyone, so he knew his feelings weren't reciprocated in the slightest.

It'd be much better if you didn't know about any of that, because that means you two would never hang out, making it easier for Steve to try not to think about you.

Nancy and Steve eventually found you. You were just entering the house with your group of friends, all of you immediately going to the backyard as you said hi to a few people along the way. Meanwhile, the two of them remained in the kitchen with their non-alcoholic beverage.

"For what it's worth," she continued since Steve wasn't replying. "I think she might like you back."

Steve looked down at Nancy, who was flashing a sympathetic smile at him. "I don't think so, but...thanks."

"Maybe you should try talking to her tonight and see where it goes?" she tried once again.

"Yeah, maybe...I don't know."

Nancy simply nodded, letting the subject go. Eventually, Eddie and Robin joined them in the kitchen. Robin immediately grabbed a can from the counter and put away the beer can she was holding.

"Thank god," she muttered. "I needed this."

Eddie grabbed Robin's unfinished beer, making sure to drink it after he finishes his. "Hey, Harrington. We talked to your girlfriend outside."

"She's not my girlfriend."

His friend smirked. "Well, the fact that I don't even have to say a name kinda says it all."

"She asked about you," Robin said this time.

Almost immediately, Steve's features soften and his eyes light up. "She did?"

"Yup. Asked if you we here."

"What? And what did you say?"

"That you are?" Eddie replied as if it was obvious. "She was all smiles and heart eyes when she heard that. Just like you're looking at us now."

Nancy immediately nudged Steve with obvious excitement. "I told you! Go talk to her!"

"Yeah, okay...yeah, wait– what should I tell her?"

Eddie scoffed. "You're the Steve Harrington. Isn't talking to girls kinda your thing?"

"She's different," he explained.

"So romantic," commented Robin sarcastically. "Look, just be yourself. Ask her how she's doing, what are her plans for the summer, invite her to dance...you know, basic human interactions."

"Everything will be fine," Nancy said, being the only one actually trying to be supportive and serious about this. "If she asked about you, it means she's interested."

Steve gave his three friends a look before finally deciding to do something about his crush for you. Deep down he was still scared, but talking to you one time at a party doesn't mean anything, right? That wouldn't hurt him (or so he hopes).

When he got out of the house and into the backyard, he struggled a little to find you because there were a lot of people at the party. Eventually, he spotted you, but his heart sank when he noticed you were talking with another guy.

He was saying something, standing very close to you, and he couldn't bare to see you laughing at whatever that guy just said. Almost immediately, he felt anger rushing though his entire body. This shouldn't be happening. It should be him the one talking to you, maybe saying some silly joke to get you to laugh because he loves your smile. It should be him the one standing so close to you, not...whoever that was.

And maybe Steve should've got back to the house and settle with the idea that you were already talking with someone else. That he lost his change of getting your attention tonight. But he didn't do that.

It was unclear to him what possessed him to walk towards the two of you, clearly interrupting your conversation. "Hi," he said very awkwardly.

At the sight of him, your smile instantly disappeared, wondering what the hell he was doing. "Uh...hi, Steve," you said. It's not like you're not happy to see him, but his approach was definitely unexpected.

"Thanks for keeping her company, man," he added shortly after, smiling at whoever it was that you were talking to. Then, he grabbed your hand to drag you away.

"What was that?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"I, uh...I don't know. Looked like he was bothering you."

"He wasn't."

"Oh, well...I just know that guy from around. Terrible guy."

"Yeah, I know him too. And he's actually really nice," you continued, looking more and more confused. "Is there something going on? Shit, please tell me we don't have to go through a portal again."

"No, no. That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"I...I just– I guess I wanted to talk to you? It's kinda important."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue. Steve's heart was beating so fast, he thought he could actually have a heart attack any minute. To be a so called "ladies magnet" he has absolutely no game when it came to you, which completely terrifies him. It makes him vulnerable, which is the last thing he wants since the last time he allowed himself to be vulnerable his heart was broken.

"Well, I don't know if I was too obvious or not in the past, but...I kinda have a thing for you?"

Your face showed you weren't expecting that. "You do?"

"Yeah," he says, nothing but obvious relief in the way he let that out. He felt like the biggest weight was lift off his shoulders. "God, I mean...you are the only thing I can think about all day."

"Why– why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was scared," he shrugged, the look on his face made your heart melt. "As you probably know, I'm the worst at keeping a girlfriend. Thing is, I'm so bad at it because I never allow myself to get too comfortable, you know? I put a barrier up because I'm so scared to let someone in just to watch them disappoint me."

His confession was truly hard to hear. To know Steve had feelings for you but he never wanted to talk about it because he was already thinking you would break his heart without even giving you a chance. After what he said, you couldn't help but lift your hand up to his face, resting your palm against the skin of his cheek. It was adorable to see him lean into your touch, as if he has been waiting years for this to happen.

"Steve, I would never hurt you," you said, meaning every word.

"You promise?" he asked barely above a whisper. You noticed his voice slightly breaking, his eyes shinning a little more due to the few tears starting to pool in his eyes.

"I promise."

The smile appearing on Steve's face has got to be the most beautiful thing you've ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, leaning into you to kiss you. You quickly melted into the kiss, gladly accepting it as his arms wrapped around you tight. His kiss was sweet, yet needy. He has been waiting for this moment for a long time, the kiss being a perfect indicator of it.

As soon as the he pulled away from you, he rested his head against the crook of your neck, hugging you.

At that moment you felt it. The way his shoulders would relax, his head resting on your shoulder, he was so at peace. He allowed to let his worries go as he pulled you close to his body, trusting that there's no safer place in the world than being in-between your arms.

And you hugged him back just at tight, hoping that would let him know you are a safe place. That you'll always be there to care for him and protect him. That the last thing you'll ever want to do is to see him hurt.

For once, he believed it. He believed he deserves to be comfortable and put his guard down. He does deserve to be happy with you.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic

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somewhat-insane · 6 months

Text

Shadows of the Beach: Chapter Three

Here's the masterpost

Belated Meetings

Pairing: Ao Lie/Sun Wukong/Macaque

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Idiot gays being idiots and gay, Playful Banter, Teasing, Awkwardness, Jealousy, Mildly Unreliable Narrator

A/N: I'm super sorry this took so long, my laptop charger broke and then editing took a lot longer than I anticipated BUT, luckily for all of you, this is a big(ger) one. About 4,000 words over what I usually try to post. Plus, we get some cute moments between Wukong and Macaque AND we finally get to meet Ao Lie!! Oh! Plus, there's a reference to OSP's JTTW recaps!

In all honesty, Macaque probably should’ve seen this coming.

Or, heard, at the very least, as the large army donned in heavy celestial armor wasn’t exactly known for their silence when marching.

But, of course, a certain someone couldn’t stay quiet to save his life, not when he was as wound up as this, at least.

And for some reason, Macaque found himself tuning into Wukong’s rambled words, his glowing ears angled back towards the king, flicking as they picked up the distant sound of hurried footsteps but, uncharacteristically, the dark-furred monkey hadn’t thought anything of it, too wrapped up in his thoughts about what was being said to him.

Originally, Macaque had planned to listen and try to figure out the patterns the guards followed. He didn’t communicate this plan to Wukong but he feels that even if he had it wouldn’t have stopped the other from straying from it. And as far as Macaque was aware that would count as a new personal record for how quickly Wukong could stray from a plan.

Listening, apparently, was kind of difficult when your very unstealthy companion won’t stop rambling about how he’s going to “take you and Ao Lie for coffee” and then he gets sidetracked talking about how “wait, no, Ao Lie doesn’t like coffee” and how “it would be better to go for cheese tea,” even though “Ao Lie hasn’t tried cheese tea before- or milk tea. I wonder what he’ll think about it.”

“Quiet,” Macaque had hissed, smacking Wukong upside the head. This was, admittedly, a pointless endeavor but he did enjoy seeing the way Wukong pouted which Macaque definitely didn’t think was cute, and if anyone said otherwise Macaque would kill them.

He should’ve known from experience that Wukong wouldn’t listen. He never did. No matter how many times Macaque tried to warn him about something when they were younger, Wukong would always insist that Macaque was just being a “grumbletonian.” Now he just called him a buzzkill. Those shows Wukong liked to watch were surely the cause of Wukong’s declining vocabulary, but with the memes MK had been sending, Macaque wasn’t much better these days either.

Had you asked, Macaque would’ve told you–not without ample snark in his tone–that Wukong was just far too annoying and loud to tune out. But he knew his subconscious reasoning for listening to the other ran deeper than that. Perhaps the familiarity had been alluring enough that he found himself falling into old habits, or maybe Macaque was still in the mindset of trying to find Wukong’s weaknesses and was listening in the hopes that something would slip.

You could argue over the real reason forever but, either way, the baseline was that Macaque had been… distracted. Loathe as he did to admit it.

The monkey’s dark tail flicked at the air behind him as he tried to ignore how reminiscent this felt compared to past missions with Wukong. When they were younger. This was different though. He had to remind himself of that.

Back then he convinced Wukong to let him tag along specifically because he cared about his king and would do anything he could to ensure his safe return, but now he tagged along so MK wouldn’t be abandoned again (as much as Macaque insisted Wukong was still bad company, the kid cared for the fool and Macaque was weak when it came to what MK wanted.)

And if Macaque also got to death glare Ao Lie when they finally found him; that was just a bonus. And it definitely, definitely wasn’t because he was jealous. Because that would imply he had something to be jealous of, and that definitely wasn’t true because he didn’t even want to be able to run his fingers through Wukong’s soft, golden fur like old times, and- … Okay, Macaque wasn’t really helping his case here.

When Macaque couldn’t convince Wukong not to travel to the celestial realm alone, he insisted Wukong at least let him come along to help him sneak around. (Additionally, when Wukong insisted he was ‘the Great Sage Equal to Heaven’ and prattled on about not needing to sneak around, Macaque was there to roll his eyes and point out that the celestial realm was most likely a bit scattered after the Jade Emperor’s death and might not be too receptive of visitors right now, especially not the likes of Wukong. (Wukong was incredibly offended by this.) Macaque even brought up the fact that they might try to pin the emperor's death on Wukong himself and while Macaque wouldn’t necessarily blame them, it would make things a deal more complicated.)

Having a more advanced range of hearing and the ability to travel by shadow greatly increased the chance they would get out of this without Wukong getting trapped under a mountain again, no matter how funny that would be to Macaque.

Idly, he wondered how the court would go about punishing Wukong in the emperor’s absence. Not that the emperor was very key in punishing Wukong in the first place. (Wukong would beg to differ, the furnace may not have killed him but being stuck in there was absolute hell, and he would know.) He wondered if they could even punish him.

Of course, unlike some people, Macaque wasn’t foolish enough to entertain such a thought process and swiftly banished it to focus on more important things. Such as, their current predicament: being surrounded by celestial guards in the courtyard with sharp-looking spears pointed at them, which Wukong mused was oddly reminiscent of the ‘warm’ reception he got at the Dragon Palace of the East Sea.

If he wasn’t in such a jittery mood, he might’ve made a joke about looking so tasty everyone wanted to turn him into a kebob. Which surely would’ve rewarded him a punch in the face from Macaque.

Surprisingly, Macaque noticed, Wukong didn’t immediately lash out at them as he had expected. Macaque had prepared himself to have to be the voice of reason and keep Wukong from going on a murdering spree; something he was all too keen to do when he was younger. But, for once, Wukong was still.

Well, mostly. Out of the corner of his eye, Macaque could see the way Wukong’s tail twitched impatiently, annoyed at this interruption in their plan but not necessarily surprised. And Macaque could tell Wukong was weighing his options, kill all the guards and find Ao Lie sooner but risk being punished or be patient and not find Ao Lie sooner but don’t get punished.

It was, indeed, a toughy.

Macaque must admit he was impressed by how much progress Wukong had made in controlling his impulses.

Of course, he wasn’t about to tell Wukong that. Ever. That joke of a man soaked up praise like a sponge. And if he knew Macaque thought anything even remotely positive about him, Wukong’d never let him live it down.

The celestial armies had grown a lot less afraid of Wukong after his journey had tamed him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still capable of all that destruction that had once been whispered about behind closed doors and in banquets as kings bemoaned the status they had lost as a result of Wukong killing thousands of their men.

Not that they hadn’t deserved it, Macaque thought, but blood was always so hard to clean out of Wukong’s fur. Especially considering he was ticklish and would squirm out of Macaque’s hold.

It was like trying to wash a cat.

Speaking of Wukong, said monkey took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes to allow himself a moment of composure–something his master had tought him, no doubt–before he opened his eyes and plastered a strained grin onto his face that probably only added to the intimidation factor by making Wukong look unhinged. Though, that was probably his intent the entire time, “Fellas! Great to see you!”

His words earned nothing more than glares from behind helmets.

“Aw, why the cold shoulder? I thought we were all good!” Wukong pouts theatrically, making Macaque sigh and facepalm, grumbling a string of curses to himself. How did he constantly find himself in these situations? With Wukong no less. And they called him the theater kid, Macaque lamented, running his fingers through his dark fur as he took it upon himself to study the guards around them for weakness. One of the two monkeys had to pretend not to be an idiot, after all.

Despite their attempts to hide it and seem composed, Macaque noticed some of the guards sharing nervous glances.

Wukong, the self-absorbed jerk he was, noticed this and couldn’t help but puff his chest out pridefully at the effect he had on the guards, happy his reputation still rang strong within certain groups. His fur ruffled like the feathers of a proud mother hen, and Macaque found himself rolling his eyes almost affectionately at the familiar sight.

One of the guards went to speak up after a moment, clearing their throat and straightening their posture, adjusting the spear in their hands and keeping it pointed noticeably at Macaque instead of Wukong.

The idea that they would threaten Macaque to keep Wukong in line made the golden-furred monkey’s stomach twist uncomfortably as he grit his teeth, his tail lashing behind him. Despite whatever bad blood still rested within the unspoken words hanging between them, Wukong still didn’t like dragging people into his messes, and that included Macaque.

Admittedly, the tactic was smart, but he couldn’t help but wonder how they knew it would bother him so much. Though, of course, they were probably still working on outdated information from when Wukong and Macaque had been an inseparable duo. He had to swallow down his emotions to keep from spiraling, attempting to focus on the guard’s gruff voice, “What business do you have here, demons?”

With a still-furrowed brow, Wukong forced his scowl down into another grin that looked more like a grimace as he attempted a low whistle through his clenched teeth, “Demons, ey? ‘S been a while since anyone called me a demon. My name was always seen to be far more terrifying.”

Macaque didn’t say anything, just leveling Wukong with an unimpressed glare, something Wukong pouted in response to, though there was something playful about it as his tail swayed, his faux grin falling as he switched tactics, rolling his shoulders back and humming contentedly in response to the satisfying pop he was rewarded with, the noise making Macaque’s ear twitch and, at some point alone the line, his gaze had drifted away from the guards and to Wukong, studying his form that, to the untrained eye would seem casual and confident, but Macaque saw the small telltale signs that said otherwise.

Offering an exaggerated sigh, Wukong leaned against Macaque, much to the shadow monkey’s chagrin, “Oh, how cruelly the world doth treat us, my friend.”

Rolling his eyes, mildly amused with Wukong’s theatrics, Macaque let his companion continue, seeing it as the idle distraction it was. This, at least, Macaque remembered, and he was slightly amused it hadn’t changed. Essentially, Wukong was making a plan. And while he wasn’t the best at doing so, Macaque had to admit he was curious enough to entertain him in this. Just this once, he told himself, despite remembering thinking the same thing many years ago

Shifting his gaze to the nearest guard, Wukong spoke once again, “If you lot must know, we’re here to see Ne Zha.”

The guard that had had the guts to speak responded with a deep frown, the corners of his mouth creasing and Wukong could just barely see the muscles in his jaw twitch as he grit his teeth. Seems like this one was easily irritated, Wukong observed, trying to hide the mischievous grin that threatened to form on his face as the guard continued, “And what business-”

Wukong groaned, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his grin even as his tail swayed with amusement, something Macaque easily picked up on and, while he admired the dedication to the craft, he was left to wonder when Wukong grew patient enough to pull such tricks instead of just punching through all of his problems. Sure, Wukong had been confident before, but he was confident in the way that he would thoughtlessly challenge the Buddha instead of thinking things through. He always ended up succumbing to stage fright whenever he was supposed to act on something other than his impulses.

“Look, I don’t have time for this so let’s cut to the chase,” Wukong huffed, crossing his arms after he had finally schooled his expression into a frown, “if you let me, Sun Wukong, the Great Sage,” Macaque rolled his eyes at the name drop; as if the guards weren’t already well aware of who they were dealing with and what he could do, Macaque thought sarcastically, “and my friend, the six-eared Macaque,” this part gave Macaque pause as he wasn’t expecting to be included in Wukong’s attempts to intimidate them and he definitley wasn’t expecting to be referred to as a friend.

“go about our business, we won’t kill you…” he paused, pursing his lips and squinting his eyes in thought, “probably.”

Macaque huffed out a dry laugh, finally playing along with Wukong by letting a sharp-toothed grin spread over his face.

“Speak for yourself,” he purred maliciously as he made eye contact with one of the guards, letting his eyes flash violet for a moment as he relished in the way they tensed and fumbled with their weapon.

He felt Wukong’s tail brush against his leg as the appendage swayed more adamantly, not doing much to hide Wukong’s joy at the moment. Whether it was because Macaque was joining in or just because of the way the guard acted, Macaque didn’t know. Nor did he want to.

Normally, Macaque would’ve shot Wukong a glare for touching him, but instead, he just gave an almost fond sigh as he shook his head.

Okay, maybe he understood why Wukong liked doing this. They were all just so easy to scare, it was honestly hilarious. Macaque’s thoughts were interrupted as another voice cut into the tense silence.

“We know who you are,” one brave-sounding guard said, looking ready to thrust his spear into Wukong’s chest.

Wukong hummed in amusement. Brave, but dumb, he noted, as that guard was one of the only ones pointing their spear at Wukong instead of Macaque. Obviously, they hadn’t done their research. Not that they would’ve needed to. It’d been a long time since he’d genuinely attacked the celestial realm… unless you counted stealing the map which he still insisted was necessary and no one died which was… impressive to say the least considering it was something Wukong was involved in. Welp, Wukong thought, might as well use this guard to teach the others a lesson.

In one swift movement, Wukong moved to be closer to the guard and grabbed the spear, yanking it so the guard stumbled forward. Wukong let the glamours fall from his eyes, the ominous red glow bouncing off of the helmet and the wide eyes of the being in front of him.

“And what exactly do you think this little toy is going to do to me?” Wukong spoke, his voice menacingly deep in a way that would shake someone right down to their core. Just the sound of it even had Macaque’s fur standing on end, though, possibly not from fear. Wukong grabbed the guard’s head to keep them still as he tore the spear from their grip, spinning it in his hold so the business end would be pointed directly at them. But before Wukong could plunge it into their skull, the sound of a familiar voice ringing out across the courtyard made him freeze.

“Halt!” it had called out.

The golden-furred monkey sucked in a sharp, almost pained-sounding breath through his teeth. And while Macaque and Wukong hadn’t been friends for centuries and had long since lost the ability to tell just with a look what the other was thinking, it wasn’t hard to guess what that reaction meant.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me…” Wukong grumbled as he turned on his heel to regard the figure stomping towards them with a dog at his heels, his aggressive nature startling some of the guards who immediately parted to allow the imposing figure and his companion to step into the circle they had ‘trapped’ the two spiritual primates in.

“Erlang!” Wukong chimed through grit teeth, “How’ve you been old friend?”

“I assure you we are nothing of the sort, simian,” Erlang huffed haughtily, turning his nose up at Wukong in disgust, “for your benefit, I hope you have a valid reason for threatening my guards.”

“Mmm, yeah, see, you’re just gonna love this. Super funny story really I-” Wukong was about to respond sarcastically but paused, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow as he took in Erlang’s disheveled appearance, his hair unkempt and bags under his eyes, even keeping up his regal posture appeared to be exhausting to him.

Despite the incredibly small pang of sympathy he felt toward the guy, Wukong couldn’t help but snort in amusement, whatever he was planning to say immediately leaving his brain, “did your gold fish get away or something?”

An amused grin played on Macaque’s lips in response to Wukong’s reference to “Guan-I-woke-up-like-this-yin”.

Erlang lacked the grace Guanyin had even in those moments though.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Erlang sighed with clear annoyance at the situation unfolding before him. An understandable reaction to being in Wukong’s presence, Macaque mused, his grin still present.

“For the love of- I do not have time for your pathetic attempts at humor, monkey,” Erlang growled. And Wukong couldn’t help but wonder if Erlang found himself humorous, because if that was the case, well, Wukong had some news to give him.

“Clearly,” Wukong responded, gesturing to Erlang’s… everything.

With an incredibly irritated sigh, Erlang crossed his arms.

“Not that it concerns you,” Erlang grits out, eye twitching in irritation, “but not only have I been trying to clean up Azure’s mess–which I can only assume you had ample part in–but I also have to take over some of my uncle’s previous duties for the foreseeable future. Which, even with his power locked away, are not things that should be taken lightly.”

“Right, right, for sure,” Wukong hummed, nodding along but making it very clear he wasn’t actually listening, “so, obviously you have better things to do than deal with two michevious little monkeys, and we should just waltz on through and-”

Wukong was cut off as the guards all step closer to the pair, their spears glinting in the light and making Macaque subconsciously step closer to Wukong, bumping their shoulders together, making both of them tense at the contact.

Something about this was far too reminiscent and the two immediately stepped away.

Glancing at Macaque, Wukong’s tail twitched as if wanting to curl around him in some form. When they were younger, he always had to be touching Macaque in some way, shape, or form, be it holding his hand and tugging him along or wrapping his tail around his ankle, wrist or tail. It was just instinct though and Wukong had to remind himself of that. He had to remind himself he didn’t want to be touching Macaque and even if he did, he couldn’t. The wall between them had very briefly been breached–on accident, mind you–but it was already being very quickly rebuilt. Stronger, this time.

“I’m afraid I can not let you do that,” Erlang finally responded, arms folded behind his back.

Wukong huffed, his grin growing more strained by the second as he kept his eyes on the spears closest to Macaque. While Macaque was ageless, he could still be harmed and killed. And for some odd reason, Wukong refused to let that happen again. He also refused to think about it too much.

“Yeah?” Wukong laughed humorlessly, unglamoured eyes glaring at the guards, “and why’s that?”

“To let two of the most notorious trouble-makers roam the celestial realm freely during the current circumstances would be incredibly stupid.”

“Good thing you’re incredibly stupid then,” Wukong grumbled before sighing, “look, man…”

Erlang’s eye twitched at being addressed so informally by the monkey but he let it slide, if only so he could try and get the two out of the celestial realm as soon as possible.

“We just want to talk to Ne Zha,” Wukong continued, going for civil and unassuming. Succeeding about as well as you’d expect someone with his reputation could.

Erlang’s eyes narrow, “the celestial realm has fallen prey to your tricks far too many times, monkey, I plan to bring an end to that.”

“Pfft- don’t flatter yourself.”

Unsurprisingly, this earns Wukong a glare from Erlang. He expected a glare from Macaque as well but… Macaque had his hand over his mouth and an arm wrapped around his torso as he basically vibrated as he tried to contain his laughter. Well, at least he was enjoying himself, Wukong thought, trying not to show the pride that bubbled up inside of him at being able to make the other laugh though, for a moment he did consider the possibility that Macaque was, per usual, laughing at him but that was something that could wait until later.

“I would not suggest letting your hubris get the best of you. Currently,” Erlang hums, summoning a spear and expertly twirling it in his hold, “you are on… ideal terms with the celestial realm after your companionship with the great monk. Your friend… less so after that little stunt he pulled with the Lady Bone Demon.” This made Macaque’s fur bristle and he had half the mind to correct the celestial but he still held his tongue, knowing, from having read the Journey to the West, that Erlang was a force to be reckoned with. Wukong, despite his teasing nature, clearly knew this too as he stayed silent and allowed Erlang to finish his point, a grace Wukong was not willing to grant to many. “Even so, I assure you no harm will come to either of you if you return to the mortal realm. You are not the only immortals who are being kept out for the foreseeable future.”

“Ah, right,” Wukong hums, “gotta keep that Jade Emporer power safe, hmm? Can’t have someone stealing it. Especially not a little, harmless, monkey. I mean, that’s why you have to keep us out, right? Because otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to stand a chance against us.”

Erlang narrowed his eyes, “Keeping you out is a precaution, we are more than capable of detaining you again if it comes to it. It’s a very thin sense of respect that keeps us from doing so anyway.”

Wukong hummed, though it was clear in the way his brow creased that the idea of being trapped again struck a cord within him. His fingers twitched at his side and he ached for the weight of his staff in his hands. He wasn’t powerless by any means of the word, but it always felt nice to have a weapon he was confident in wielding. His fists were always a good substitute though.

“We would trap you under a mountain again long before we let something happen,” Erlang reiterated, mildly aware of the effect his words had on Wukong. Defiance and pride sparked through his eyes as he barely held back from snarking about how Wukong had lost his edge after all these years.

“Hmm, well, in that case…” Wukong’s brow furrowed as he closed his eyes, a rare thoughtful look pulling at his expression as if he was honestly trying to puzzle out a solution to this conundrum or just trying to calm himself down. Still, the look was fleeting, and within a few seconds, his eyes had opened with a challenging glint.

At that moment Macaque was sure he saw a slight shift, almost as if Wukong’s frame flickered for a moment.

As a companion to that sight, he heard the tell-tale chime of Wukong using his magic.

Golden smoke swirled around Wukong’s feet to add to the odd spectacle but the monkey did his best to swat the clouds away with his tail, trying to hide… something.

While suspicious and odd, it must have worked well enough considering Macaque couldn’t figure out for the life of him what Wukong had done before his attention was drawn away once Wukong spoke again, his ears pitching forward instinctively after being pulled so suddenly from his thoughts.

“Gotta catch me first!” And before either Macaque or Erlang could say anything to stop him, (as if anything they said would be able to stop him anyway) Wukong jumped up into the air and easily landed on his Nimbus, darting off in the opposite direction he and Macaque were originally headed. Which was just really annoying on top of impractical.

“What the- Get him!” Erlang yells, he and the rest of the guards quickly moving to chase after the elusive monkey, leaving Macaque alone in the courtyard.

Abandoned again, Macaque mused with a sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance bubbling up in his chest at the familiar situation.

But that feeling was short-lived as none other than Wukong suddenly popped up beside him in a puff of golden smoke and grabbed Macaque’s hand, tugging him in the direction they had originally been headed, his face screwed into an expression of intense concentration as he used his knowledge of the celestial realm to map out exactly where they were and where it would be most tactical to head toward next.

“Wha- Wukong??”

“Clone,” Wukong responded, gesturing back toward the way his clone went and offering very little more in terms of explanation, leaving Macaque to feel mildly annoyed that Wukong didn’t even try to communicate that–the man has telepathy, it couldn’t have been that hard to just mentally tell Macaque “hey, I’m about to make a clone to lead them away but don’t worry, I’m not actually ditching you,” but like, whatever–as he dragged Macaque through a large ornate doorway and into a long and equally impressive hallway, briefly glancing at Macaque to offer a task, “tell me if you hear them coming back our way.”

Macaque opened his mouth to argue, his brows furrowing as he glared intently at the back of Wukong’s head when the golden-furred monkey turned his attention forward, but essentially he decided against saying anything. Instead, he let his ears fan out, closing his eyes and surprisingly trusting Wukong to guide him during his moment of slight vulnerability.

He heard the group's loud footsteps moving away and Wukong's clone's laughter, which abruptly ceased, accompanied by the sound of something poofing. There was a brief pause before Erlang groaned, his annoyance at having been bested by Wukong again incredibly clear, but he didn’t guide the army back towards where they had been before, knowing well enough that the real Wukong could be miles away by then.

Reluctantly, he conceded and told a few of his best soldiers to keep their eye out for the mischievous duo. Macaque allowed himself to bask in a brief moment of satisfaction at that, ignoring the feelings that threatened to rise to the surface if he thought too much about the two of them being a duo. He blinked open his eyes and focused back on the Wukong in front of him, the real Wukong. Macaque pursed his lips in brief thought before huffing out a soft chuckle.

Well played, Wukong, he thought, well played.

Finally, after a while of running, Wukong slowed down and the two continued to walk in silence for a while before Macaque cleared his throat to catch Wukong’s attention. It worked and Wukong looked back at him with an unspoken question clear in his eyes, only for Macaque to respond by pointing at their still-connected hands.

The golden monkey, much to Macaque’s annoyance, stopped walking after looking down at their hands, his brow furrowing in confusion as he tried to puzzle out what was wrong with the situation.

They were holding hands, so what? They used to hold hands all the time when they were frie- oh. Oh. Right. Right… not friends anymore. Just… barely allies. Wukong pointedly ignores the feelings swirling in his chest at that reminder.

His face flushed slightly in embarrassment at his forgetfulness as he pulled his hand away, wondering why Macaque hadn’t pulled away earlier and instead chose to point it out to Wukong. Distastefully, Wukong wondered if Macaque was afraid enough of him to believe he would lash out at the action. However, that couldn’t be the case because Macaque regularly picked fights with Wukong and pushed him to his limits… still, the question lodged itself into Wukong’s mind and he knew he wouldn’t be forgetting about it anytime soon. He still couldn’t get that image of Macaque cowering away from his fist during the Samadhi fire incident of his head. Among… other images.

Wukong cupped his hand in the other, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of Macaque’s touch on his palm, and turned away from Macaque, fur noticeably poofed up as he grumbled something that almost sounded like an apology as he sped down the hallway to put distance between them.

Macaque couldn’t help but snort, rolling his eyes as he slipped into the shadows to trail after Wukong more easily. Once Wukong had finally slowed back down to a more natural walking pace, Macaque emerged, making his presence known to the distracted monkey by brushing his tail against Wukong’s, making him jump and whip his head around, his momentary surprise melting away as his gaze hardened into a glare.

“Jerk,” Wukong mumbled, crossing his arms and looking away with a pout.

“Coward,” Macaque responded playfully, watching in satisfaction as Wukong’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he brought his arms back down to his sides, still looking annoyed and, to be honest, Macaque couldn’t tell if it was because of him or because being in the celestial realm generally set Wukong on edge, as much as the golden monkey liked to pretend that it didn’t.

Another moment of silence passed, this one almost comfortable as they walked side by side, a noticeable distance between them that hadn’t been there when they were younger.

Macaque was annoying, but Wukong had to admit he enjoyed the more casual banter they shared now that they were on speaking terms again. It was far better than having to listen to words chock-full of hurtful intent. No one knew how to get under Wukong’s skin better than Macaque did. And vice versa he liked to believe.

“So…” Macaque starts, once again being the one to break the silence, “what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Wukong asks, prompting Macaque to raise a brow at him, “oh- right! The plan! Uh…”

Wukong stopped walking, pursing his lips in thought.

“Oh for-” Macaque grumbled, running a hand over his face, “you don’t even have a plan!?”

“I didn’t have time to make a plan!” Wukong insists, gesturing wildly in the air as if that would make Macaque look past his ignorance.

Macaque rolled his eyes with a snort, “Yeah, seems like a common thing with you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Wukong huffed, gritting his teeth and crossing his arms. Okay, so maybe they weren’t fully past hurtful words.

“What do you think it’s supposed to mean?” Macaque asked rhetorically, glaring at Wukong as he mimicked him and crossed his arms as well.

Frowning, Wukong started walking again, eyes glued ahead as he felt anger boiling to life in his chest, “For the record, I did have a plan for the Samadhi fire.”

“Sure you did,” Macaque hummed with a shrug, following behind Wukong, the distance between them increasing and Wukong feared that was true in more ways than one. Still, despite knowing it would only deepen the ravine between them, Wukong couldn’t keep himself from adding: “And it would’ve worked if you hadn’t intervened!”

“Really?” Macaque chuckled darkly, stepping in front of Wukong and placing a hand on his chest to get him to stop as well, the touch making Wukong tense, looking at Macaque with a furrowed brow as a growl threatened to start up in his throat, “Even if you had gotten the ring out of the dragon girl and into you, you don’t have the same ‘dragon heritage’ that kept her alive. The Samadhi Fire is the only fire that can hurt you. For all we know, you could very well have died. And you would’ve taken reality as we know it down with you.~”

Wukong stared at Macaque for a moment with a shocked expression, his brows raised as he looked into Macaque’s eyes which glinted in cruel amusement, something that stoked the growing flame of Wukong’s conflicted rage, a mixture of shock that Macaque knew that and confusion at why he’d bring it up mixing in the emotional stew.

Finally, Wukong’s warring emotions settled into bland irritation, though there was no doubt something more explosive brewing under the surface as his brow furrowed and he looked away, taking in a shuddering breath before grabbing Macaque’s wrist and looking back towards him with a glare,

“I’m sure you would’ve loved it if that were the case,” Wukong grit out with a huff, pulling Macaque’s hand off him and shouldering past him aggressively. Macaque stayed standing there for a moment, a conflicted expression on his face as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, considering Wukong’s words. Not because they held any merit, mind you, but because he couldn’t figure out if Wukong meant the part about him dying or the part about reality being destroyed. Not that it particularly mattered which one since Macaque didn’t care for either. But it’s not like he could just admit that now, could he?

With a confused frown, Macaque decided it was not worth it to care and turned to continue following Wukong, leaving the tense silence to fester between them.

Admittedly, Wukong did seem to have some sort of odd method to his madness. One that only he could follow, no doubt, but it was there.

Having been in the celestial realm much longer than Macaque, Wukong had some sense of where things were and where Ne Zha would most likely be, so he had taken the lead. Up until this far, walking through a long outdoor hallway with ornate vine-covered pillars, they’d just explored various gardens and studies.

“Considering that kid can’t take a break for the life of him,” Wukong had said, momentarily forgetting about the words that still hung between them in favor of focusing on something he might actually have the power to fix, for once, “he’s probably tasked himself with guarding the Jade Emperor’s power.”

“If you knew that then didn’t we just go to the Jade Emperor’s power in the first place?” Macaque asked, much less willing to pretend that things were fine between them. Not right now, at least. It was easier to pretend when their common denominator, MK, was there. Or maybe in the rare moments where they sat on opposite ends of the couch, monkeys curled up on their laps and draped over their shoulders as they watched trash TV in mildly comfortable silence. But the tenseness between them right now was like a thick smog in the air, the type that stings your eyes and makes your throat close up. Nearly impossible to ignore.

Unless, of course, there was some sort of distraction, he mused. But that would never-

“Uncle?”

Macaque’s ears twitched at the familiar voice and he froze, looking up, raising a brow, before blurting out the first name that came to mind, “Red?”

They both started speaking at the same time, “What are you-”

They also stopped speaking at the same time as they blinked at each other before both chuckling. Red Son, someone Macaque was only semi-recently formerly acquainted with despite having known his parents for centuries, politely raised a hand to cover his mouth as he chuckled, both of them momentarily forgetting about the mildly confused witness standing awkwardly on the sidelines.

Considering Red Son was very young when Wukong trapped his father under that mountain, he had never really seen Wukong as anyone other than the man who tore the Demon Bull Family from its foundations and left it as shaky scaffolding that threatened to blow over in the wind, only kept up by Red Son’s and his mother’s combined efforts, something that seldom seemed enough as in the beginning they were just two grieving demons; a child, young and stripped of his power, forced to relearn the core of his magic; and a mother, hollow without her husband and forced to raise her son alone. It wasn’t long before Red Son did his best to remedy the lack of manpower though, the first bull clones hadn’t been perfect but they were a good proof of concept. Nevertheless, point is, Red Son (despite vaguely remembering a time when he had sat upon strong shoulders–not as broad as his father’s–with his hands pulling curiously at golden fur, the owner of which chuckled, unbothered by the child’s actions,) had long since stopped seing Wukong in any kind of fond light. Macaque on the other hand, despite being physically absent, was still often brought up by Iron Fan in conversation, her tone fond and wistful as she would lament about how often Macaque had to get the other brotherhood members out of trouble. Her stories notably lacking Wukong. As a result of these stories though, Red Son felt closer to Macaque when he was being raised than he had ever felt to Wukong, and after meeting Macaque in person, and being introduced formerly to him by MK, Red Son was all too eager to reinstate the title he had once used for Wukong. And Macaque definitely didn’t tear up when Red Son called him Uncle.

Of course, predictably, it wasn’t long before Wukong got antsy and interjected himself into the conversation Red Son and Macaque had started having.

“Red boy!” Wukong chimed, draping his arm over a now very disgruntled Red Son’s shoulders.

“Wukong…” Red greeted distastefully.

“You’re not gonna rat us out are you?” Wukong asked, almost sounding genuinely anxious.

“If you don’t stop touching me I might,” the young demon scowled, prompting Wukong to chuckle nervously and back off with his palms held out in a placating gesture, which Red Son only huffed smoke out of his nostrils at.

“Noted,” Wukong hums, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head, “so, what are you doing in the celestial realm? I thought your family was taking a break from conquering the world. I don’t think MK would be too happy to have to start fighting you again.”

Red Son scoffs, his cheeks flushing slightly at that last part as he looked away, the reaction confusing Wukong.

“Like I would tell you anything,” the bull demon hissed.

Wukong is about to argue back but Macaque shoves a hand over his mouth and speaks up, not wanting Wukong to start something possibly explosive in the middle of the celestial realm, “What’cha doin’ here, Red?”

“Oh, that’s easy, I came to speak with Ne Zha.”

Macaque grins triumphantly, glancing towards Wukong and-

“DID YOU JUST LICK ME!?” He hissed, jerking his hand away from Wukong’s mouth and wiping the slobber off on Wukong’s sleeve.

“You’ll live,” Wukong huffed, wiping the spit off his chin as a cocky grin pulls at his lips, ever excited to cause Macaque discomfort, “I just don’t see why Red Boy can’t answer me but can answer you.”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because you’re annoying,” Macaque grumbled, childishly sticking his tongue out at Wukong, pulling a dramatic, affronted gasp from Wukong.

“Well, I-” Wukong started, placing a hand on his chest as he pretended to be thoroughly scandalized by the display, only for his theatrics to be rudely interrupted.

“And an idiot,” the young bull demon added.

“Hey-” Wukong pouted, genuinely upset his bit was ruined.

“Oh, and-” Macaque chimed, only to be interrupted as Wukong punched him in the shouler, pulling a chuckle from him which was surely not the reaction Wukong was going for but he can’t find it in himself to be upset at the outcome.

It was honestly kind of funny. Sometimes they fought like children, and sometimes they fought like a married couple, Red Son mused with a slight smirk, but, unless he wanted to be hunted for sport, he could never say that thought out loud.

“So, what’s your business with Ne Zha, kid?” Macaque finally asked, tail swaying slightly from the lingering amusement of getting to mess with Wukong.

“Oh! I, uh… I came to ask for advice on what to get the noodle-” The demon’s eyes darted over to Wukong before narrowing as he slowly continued, carefully deciding his words, “my… partner as a, um, courting gift.”

Macaque nodded, unsurprised at this information, having been one of the first people Red came to when he first started attempting to court the monkey king’s successor. Based on the nervous look the demon had given Wukong, Macaque would bet that Wukong didn’t know yet. Which also wasn’t surprising, because Wukong was incredibly dense. Guess that’s what happens when your brain is made of stone.

Wukong snorted, clearly amused, “I wouldn’t go to Ne Zha for that kind of thing.”

“And why is that?”

Both Red Son and Wukong jolted slightly at the sound of the familiar voice, though more out of surprise than anything else. Macaque, having heard Ne Zha approaching but not caring enough to let Wukong know, merely allowed his gaze to lazily travel over to the lotus prince, giving a casual nod in greeting that was met with a slight shrug. Despite mostly hating each other, they had fun gossiping about Wukong together that one time and they both cared about MK so they resolved to, at the very least, not be hostile.

Macaque was only mildly surprised when, instead of backtracking as any sensible person would do, Wukong turned to Ne Zha with a brow raised as he huffed out an amused laugh and used Macaque’s shoulder as an armrest, much to Macaque’s dismay.

“Ey! Ne Zha! Old buddy! We were just talking about you!” Wukong chuckled to himself, clearly the only one who was entertained by this situation. With a hum, Wukong addressed Ne Zha’s question, “do you want the whole list or do you want me to just say some stuff off the top of my head?”

With a tired sigh that was usually reserved for exhausted parents, Ne Zha rubbed at his temples. Wukong, for whatever reason, took this as a sign to continue spouting his bullshit.

“First off, you’re like, what, twelve? Second, I doubt you know the first thing about romance, I mean, you’d probably be married to your job if you could be.”

Ne Zha’s eye twitched and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He’s barely even been in Wukong’s presence for fifteen minutes and he already wants to leave. But, alas, he did have a reason for appearing when he did.

However… it wouldn’t hurt to set the record straight first, “just because I am not interested in romantic affairs doesn’t mean I am unaware of the concept. Nor does it mean I would be unwilling to advise the Demon Dull prince and- are you even listening, Wukong?”

“Mmm,” Wukong hummed, picking at the dirt under his claws, “not at all, why?”

Sighing, Ne Zha took a moment to breathe, opening his mouth to scold Wukong but paused as he was struck with an idea and a rare mischievous grin pulled at his expression, the look setting everyone on edge as they wondered what he might be thinking.

“Oh, no reason…” He turned his back on Wukong, which was a risky move considering what he was about to say, “I just thought you might be interested in learning where Ao Lie is…”

Wukong immediately went stock still, his tail, which had previously been casually swaying, stiffened to the point of almost looking petrified. Macaque and Red Son watched as Wukong’s face fell, only for it to morph into something else moments later as his eyes went red and he bared his teeth. His fur bristled and neither Macaque nor Red Son could even think to stop him before he went to pounce.

Unsurprisingly, Ne Zha expected the reaction and leaped out of the way, watching as Wukong stumbled, struggling to reinstate his balance after his target moved, leaving him to skid slightly before crouching down again, no doubt getting prepared to try again.

“Tell me where he is,” Wukong spoke, the previous casualness and teasing aura that he had before completely gone, replaced by this desperate kind of aggression that brought back unwanted memories for Macaque and startled Red Son. Macaque didn’t miss the way Red Son stepped closer to him.

It made sense, Red Son had been a baby back when Wukong was on the journey, he’s never had to see this side of him before.

It had always been clear that Red Son disliked the monkey king, but the fear he had was only because of hearing stories and knowing vaguely what he was capable of. Now that he got to see Wukong’s impulsive rage first hand… he just considered himself glad he survived the punch in the ribs he got when Wukong was possessed.

“He was going to, you idiot,” Macaque finally huffed, making Wukong pause in his attack for a second.

Ne Zha nodded, still tense as though expecting Wukong to try and pounce at him again, “I have no reason to keep his whereabouts from you.”

“You’ve kept them from me this long,” Wukong growled, referring to the time Ao Lie had spent trapped in the scroll, and the group watched as guilt flashed over Ne Zha’s expression.

“I was not aware of what had happened to your companion,” he spoke honestly, and Wukong’s fur flattened slightly, the glamour on his eyes returning, “not until I had to release everyone trapped within the scroll. It was as much a surprise to me as it was for you.”

Wukong glared at the ground for a moment, clearly wanting to take out his anger on someone but wanting to see Ao Lie more. So, he sighed and looked back up at Ne Zha, “take me to him.”

No one spoke for the rest of that walk. Red Son had gone back to the mortal realm, accepting that this wasn’t the best time to look for advice and deciding to either come back another time or ask his mother, though that ran the risk of his father finding out and Red Son was just… really not ready to have that conversation.

That left Wukong and Macaque alone to follow their temporary guide, Ne Zha.

In the back of his mind, Wukong was surprised that Macaque had stuck with him this long. Maybe it was because he was distracted by other things but, no matter how much he thought about it he just couldn’t figure out why he was still there.

More upsettingly, Wukong couldn’t figure out why he was glad Macaque was there.

He wasn’t given much time to mull over his thoughts before the three of them came to a stop in a long hallway with countless doors on each wall. “Guest rooms,” Ne Zha had explained, gesturing to one of the doors. He didn’t need to say anything for Wukong to understand what was being implied, and suddenly Wukong’s heart jumped into his throat and he was feeling uncharacteristically nervous. What was he supposed to say? Did Ao Lie even want to see him?

Wukong wasn’t someone who was used to acknowledging his feelings at the best of times, but especially not in a scenario like this. Ne Zha had hung back, watching as Wukong approached the door, Macaque following close behind and Wukong briefly wondered if he could sense how much Wukong needed him here. As embarrassing of a thought as that was, Wukong had to admit he was glad someone was by his side, even if that person hated his guts. This feeling was only amplified as Wukong once again felt something brush against his tail. He looked back to see the tip of a black-furred appendage briefly hooking around his tail before pulling back, not willing to offer any more than that. Wukong looked at Macaque with wide eyes, only to find Macaque unsurprisingly averting his gaze and glaring at the door, most likely pointedly ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. Wukong gave a soft smile, recognizing the attempt at reassurance and if he had more time to think it over he would probably bring himself into a spiral over it but, that could wait, for now… Wukong took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock at the door, not letting the breath out even as there was a loud crash on the other side of the door as if someone had tripped and then panicked shuffling.

He still didn’t breathe when the door was flung open to reveal a slightly disheveled-looking being. One that was very, very familiar to him.

“Ne Zha! Did you find hi-” Their voice cut off as their eyes met Wukong’s and for a moment, everything was frozen. Or, Macaque would’ve thought that was the case if he hadn’t been able to hear Wukong’s heart picking up and the way his breath hitched after he finally let out the breath he was holding.

Macaque took the moment of stillness to examine Ao Lie’s appearance, though he didn’t necessarily need to, having recognized him from years ago when he had been tailing the group to find out how they were keeping Wukong tied down. He looked the same for the most part, though his hair was slightly tousled most likely from the fall he had taken when scrambling to the door.

The shadow monkey watched as Ao Lie’s lips parted to say something but he cut himself off when Wukong took a few shaky steps forward as if afraid any sudden movements would shatter this moment. Or, perhaps Wukong was afraid Ao Lie would try and kill him just like everyone else from his past has thus far.

Of course, Ao Lie didn’t attack Wukong and instead offered a kind, patient smile. The sight of which had a dopey grin growing on Wukong’s face before he pounced on Ao Lie and knocked both of them to the ground, knocking the breath out of the dragon. Wasting no more time Wukong almost instinctively nuzzled against Ao Lie’s cheek as he threaded his fingers through Ao Lie’s long hair, soothing a part of himself he hadn’t previously been aware needed soothing.

Standing back, Macaque watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, an ugly feeling rearing its head in his chest as he watched Wukong clumsily attempt to groom Ao Lie’s hair. Macaque didn’t even know if Wukong was aware he was doing it.

Recovering from the air being punched out of his lungs, laughter bubbled up in Ao Lie’s throat, and the melodic sound had Wukong’s tail swaying against the ground as he answers with a pleased chirp, not even noticing the tears that began to run down his cheeks.

They laugh together for a moment, just holding each other close and reassuring themselves that this moment was real before they calm down and spend a moment of silence just basking in the others presence before Ao Lie sighs, shattering the silence and prompting Wukong to raise his head from where he had buried it against Ao Lie’s shoulder. Ao Lie reached up to cup Wukong’s cheeks and Wukong almost instantly relaxed into the touch, purring contentedly as Ao Lie’s thumbs caress his cheeks, brushing away any stray tears as Ao Lie takes the moment to study Wukong’s face.

“You look different,” Ao Lie said softly, his voice almost a whisper as he ran his thumb over the edge of Wukong’s prominent eye bags. Wukong’s eyes flutter shut as he takes a moment to just bask in the touch before opening his eyes and meeting Ao Lie’s affectionate gaze.

A soft chuckle bubbles up from Wukong’s chest as he responds, “you don’t.”

“Heh… being trapped in time for…” Ao Lie grimaces, realizing he doesn’t actually know how long he had been trapped, “uh… however long, will do that to you.”

Wukong frowns at the reminder, placing his hand over Ao Lie’s and apologetically nuzzling into his palm.

“If I had known,” Wukong mumbles against Ao Lie’s skin, “I would’ve stopped at nothing to get you back.”

Smiling sadly, Ao Lie pressed their foreheads together, “I know.”

<<prev

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chippedaxe · 3 years

Note

can u do a part 2 if 'hate is a strong word' maybe with some nsfw

╭⋟──────────────────╮

Title: Hate Is A Strong Word P2

Warning(s): cursing, NSFW, arguing, fighting etc.., praising, degrading, maybe a bit of humiliation? Idk. , unprotected sex

Pronouns: They/them, afab

Synopsis: You and Karl end up arguing after you get jealous, resulting in sex between the two of you.

Pairing: c!Karl X Dom! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Part 1: Hate is A Strong Word (sfw)

Note: unedited*

- If some words don't make sense or spelling is wrong than sorry, I'm too lazy to proof read and edit my fics.

- written in my notes app

╰──────────────────⋞╯

Karl put his hands up in defeat “I don’t understand why you’re so angry about this! I promise to you that nothing else happened!” Karl shouted “oh yeah? Then where’d you get that love bite from??” You pointed out a red mark on his neck “it’s a mosquito bite!” Karl argued back, you took a step towards him “oh? You’re calling Sapnap a mosquito now?”

“No! It really is just a mosquito bite! Please trust me on this!” Karl moved away from you “you know why I don’t like you seeing Sapnap!” You were on the verge of tears “holy shit- are you crying? Babe, I’m sorry I made you feel like this..” Karl approached you.

You got ready to fight and put your hands up “I’m not trying to hurt you, can I please just give you a hug? You’re not in the right headspace right now..” Karl reached his arms out to you. You lowered your defenses and looked away as you allowed Karl to embrace you.

“Why would you go out of your way to ignore my feelings? I told you to leave Sapnap alone for a reason!” You exclaimed “I know! I tried to avoid him but I couldn’t help running into him” Karl apologized “if I go to Las Nevada’s and talk with Slime boy- will he be able to truthfully tell me that nothing happened between you and Sapnap?” You started to cry.

“I wish you could just trust what I’m saying! Of course Sapnap and I did nothing!” Karl frowned “prove it! Kill him or something! Burn his house down!” You were hysterical “you know I can’t do that! Look- let me just make it up to you, do you want me to get you something to eat?” Karl caressed your cheek.

You slapped his hand away “if you want my forgiveness than you better listen good!” Karl’s ears perked up and he started listening right away “I’m gonna go to the kitchen and get a glass of water and when I come back I want you to be stripped naked on that fucking bed, alright?” You crossed your arms.

“W-what? Of course!” Karl’s cheeks heated up and he was quick to follow your instructions, struggling to pull off his clothes as you left the room. You walked down the stairs and slowly made your way to the kitchen, maybe you had just been overreacting but you wouldn’t let Karl know that he was right.

You grabbed a glass and poured yourself some water, sipping from it slowly while thinking about the whole situation. Sapnap was 100% trying to make you jealous so you knew you’d have to work harder to get him back!

You returned upstairs, opening the door and being met with Karl’s naked body spread on the bed. He opened his legs up shyly to you, revealing his hard erection he had gotten “oh baby.. look at you, you’re so gorgeous..” your lips pursed into a small smile.

“T-thank you Y/n..” Karl glanced away from you timidly, you walked over and crawled onto the bed. You began to slowly strip yourself of your clothes, pulling your blouse over your head and shimmying your pants to the floor.

Karl looked up at you, mesmerized by the way your body looked in the lighting “oh you’re so handsome..” Karl mouthed out to you quietly. Karl reached out to touch you but you slapped his hand away “no touching, this is supposed to be your punishment” you told him off for it.

You got between his legs and stared up at him intently, he looked down at you and puffed his cheeks out “well- are you gonna do anything?” He asked. “Not if my out keep being impatient, Karl!” You furrowed your eyebrows “okay okay- sorry darling..” he kept quiet and shut his mouth.

“Good boy, now stay still and keep your hips on the bed” you instructed him as you slowly leaned forward and licked a line up his shaft. He gasped and whines softly, covering his face up in embarrassment “you look so fucking pretty like this, why are you hiding from me?” You took his hands off his face.

His face was a pure red colour, sweat dripping down his forehead “I’m so embarrassed..” he mumbled. You brought your hand up and groped his balls for a moment, relishing in the way his body reacts to you “s-stop that feels weird!” Karl pleaded for a moment “do you really want me to stop?” You asked him again.

He kept quiet for a few seconds “n-no..” you smiled in delight and continued your actions. Karl bucked his hips up against your hand which resulted in you pinning his hips down “if you can’t stay still then I’m gonna have to tie you down- would you like that?” You threatened him “n-no please.. I can be good for you!” He gasped.

You nipped on the soft skin of his thighs, leaving a large bite on one of them. It started to bleed a bit so you just licked it up, Karl winced and closed his legs around your head “that feels weird!” He said out loud.

You rubbed and caressed his thighs gently “sorry baby..” you cooed, you got on top of him and straddled his lap. You grabbed the back of his head and brought him closer to you so you could have better access to his neck, kissing and sucking the light skin.

You tried not to give in to your thoughts but you couldn’t help but take a bite, ripping a loud moan from Karl’s mouth “ah!” He moaned. You pulled away and the both of you just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment “t-that felt good..” Karl admitted.

You went back to your work, marking up Karl and biting him whenever you felt like it. When you leaned back and admired him is when you saw how red his neck was now, you clenched your thighs together and gulped nervously as you realized you may have liked this more than you thought.

“P-please..” Karl begged “hm? Please what?” You asked “please ride me- or let me fuck you!” His hips rutted away against the air desperately “why should I give you anything you want? You were being so bad today!” You reminded him “please? I can be so good for you! I-if you let me touch you than I can prove it!” He pleaded.

You sighed and gave in to his demands, getting off him and laying down on the bed so he could touch you. Your skin was bare and the gust of cold air coming from the window every so often would make your nipples harden, you held onto a pillow gently as you felt Karl part your legs for you.

Karl licked his lips “this looks like the best meal I’ve ever seen in my entire life..” he commented as he stared at your wet folds, his fingers opening you up. Karl slid between your legs and stuck his tongue out, licking along your slit and moaning at the taste.

“Oh you taste so good.. how could I ever want to eat anything else?” Karl’s arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you glued against his face “a-ah! H-hey Karl, slow down!” You gasped, your hand grasping onto his hair which only encouraged him to go faster.

His tongue slid deep inside of you, exploring your fleshy wet cave. Your pussy clenched around him, your clit rubbing against his face as he worked hard to please you “I’m close..” you let Karl know. You released on Karl’s face and threw your head back, your legs shaking a bit as he continued to eat you out through your orgasm.

“Alright.. you earned it- come here big boy!” You invited him to fuck you, opening your legs wide enough so he could get buried deep in you. Karl quickly got to it, his cock sliding into your wet sheath and being surrounded by your warm walls.

Karl thrusted in and out with no pattern whatsoever, rutting into you harshly like an inexperienced teenage boy “y/n!” Karl moaned out your name as he started to go faster. Karl put his hand above your head to stabilize himself and keep him from falling over.

“P-please let me cum inside of you, please!” Karl begged “fuck- go ahead!” You arched your back and allowed Karl to cum inside of you. His load being shot deep inside of your vagina, coating your thick warm walls with his white semen.

Karl pulled out and flopped on the bed, panting heavily as he tried to rest “don’t go to sleep now! You still have a long day ahead of you, go get dressed you bum!” You sat up and encouraged him to get out of bed.

Karl groaned and got out of the bed, his legs shaking a bit as he stood up. He walked over to his dresser and began to get dressed, pulling his hoodie over his head and slipping on some pants. You felt lazy so you just threw a big shirt on and a pair of shorts, the two of you now dressed and ready to take on the world.

You finally got the idea to what your great genius plan to get Sapnap back was! You looked down at the ground and sighed, turning your head to face Karl and tell him what was on your mind.

“You know what, Karl baby? I want you to go see Sapnap right now and tell him how sorry I am for overreacting” you smirked. Karl had most likely thought you were turning a new leaf, being the bigger person when really you were just fulfilling your master plan.

Karl was littered with hickies and love bites all along his skin, you couldn’t miss them! Even his oversized hoodie couldn’t cover the marks up! Your plan was to expose his marks to Sapnap so he would finally see that Karl was yours and yours alone! Hopefully it’ll work.

#mcyt requests #mcyt x reader smut #mcyt smut #dsmp x reader smut #dsmp smut #dreamsmp x reader smut #dreamsmp smut #dream smp x reader smut #dream smp smut #c!karl smut #c!karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs x reader smut #c!karl Jacobs x reader smut

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor , @spencerreid9

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #i just cannot stop myself from writing about mental health issues and treatment can i

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plutonianrising · 3 years

Text

the waiting game n.k.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

wc: 2.9k

description: reader has a knack for weaseling her way out of trouble but today nanami's knots are tied tight

a/n: this is incredibly self-indulgent im not sorry though

cw: f!reader, dom!namami, bratty reader, kink exploration, shibari, edgeplay, subspace, degradation, red/yellow/green light system, pwp

MINORS DNI PLS

“Your lack of impulse control is still pretty astonishing though,” Nanami cocks an eyebrow at you. “I doubt you could actually handle holding an orgasm off for 10 minutes let alone 45.”

You work to manage the urge to argue over him and prove his point. Calmly, with the most pleasant smile you could muster, you say “that’s what you’re here for. I promise to tell you when I’m close. Every time. Promise.”

He’s still skeptical of how seriously you’d take this. It’s hard to believe in you when you’re playing with your fingers behind your back and have a familiar wicked glint in your eyes. You had a knack for saying you’d listen well and then changing your mind halfway, opting to get your way just a little bit even if it meant punishment. Still, the sight of you begging for mercy is always a welcome one and the thought of it already makes his pulse jump.

“Alright. But I’m putting some precautions in place.” Nanami tells you. You purse your lips, already feeling like he’s set the game on hard mode.

“Whaaat kind of precautions?” You inquire, squinting.

“I’m restraining you so you can’t touch. This is a good time to start breaking that bad habit. Don’t you think so?” He smiles conspiratorially. It dawns on you now that you shouldn’t have come in so hot, boldly suggesting 45 minutes during your first real attempt at it. “Go ahead and sit on the bed and wait for me. I’m going to freshen up and get everything ready.”

Nanami sends you off with a searing kiss and a smack on your ass that leaves you giggling as you head to his bedroom. It’s small moments like these that you can’t help but wish for more of. The speed in which you pack your bags to sleep over whenever he has even a little bit of time off would be embarrassing if he were anyone else. But he’s Nanami and here, for your eyes only, Kento gets to fully be himself. Goofier than he’ll ever let on and a very specific brand of annoying that means he’s incredibly dependable but also eats your desserts while commenting on how they were much too sweet for him.

When he’s back in the room you’re already undressed and sitting at the edge of the bed. The perfect picture of obedience with your hands clasped in your lap as you patiently waited for his return. He’s half dressed in a tight shirt and boxer briefs that show off his toned leg muscles. In his hands is a smooth black rope. His eyes seem to glow with hunger as he takes you in.

This isn't the first time he’s used these ties on you. You can still remember the tingle of excitement that shot through you after finding out that bondage was one of his favorite kinds of play. Even outside of the sexual aspect of it, he’s making it one of yours. It’s a loving act. One full of devotion and precise calculation. There’s always complete and utter focus in his eyes as he slides the rope against your skin. His work is neat and even, with your safety at top priority. With a rope wound tight enough to bite your flesh and steal your breath if you fought too hard, you give Nanami your full trust. And once he has it, he has the power to make you feel like a masterpiece. You’re reminded of this power as he caresses his work. Rope winds around your torso with a slight emphasis on your arms. Soon enough your arms are crossed and caged against your chest. Nanami tugs the final knot at the center of it and stares into your eyes as you try to keep your composure.

“How does it feel?” He whispers and you think that he must know that it feels perfect. You curse the way he wets his lips and smirks slightly.

He must have a book hiding somewhere.

“It feels good Kento.” You whisper, wriggling around a bit as he then spreads your knees apart. Nanami hums in satisfaction.

“Relax for me.” He says, reminding you to keep you still as he presses down on your thigh, strong hands deftly moving to immobilize your left leg with the black rope in a frogtie.

“How am I supposed to do that?” You complain, still squirming as his touch warms your skin. Have his hands always been so large, his touch so insistent?

“Or don’t. But it’ll be your skin rubbed raw after. Not mine.” Nanami warns. “My best work only comes from your cooperation. Remember?”

You huff but keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead you focus on the tight muscles of Nanami’s arms rippling under his shirt. He knots your right leg, and you flush at how stretched apart you are. Your only source of modesty comes from your hands covering your chest and they flex and unflex as your head starts to catch up with what happens next. You kick yourself for agreeing to being tied up, wanting nothing more than to touch him. You take your lips between your teeth slightly as you catch his gaze raking down your figure. Nanami slowly runs a few fingers over you. He travels upward from your bare thighs past your hips and traces feather soft patterns on your stomach. You can’t help the way your legs twitch when he finally dips his fingers lower and presses against your pussy, stroking you.

“Give me a color sweetheart.”

“Green.” You whimper. “Please kiss me.” Nanami seems to consider it for a moment but removes his touch completely from you instead.

“Be good for me and you’ll get as much of me as you want.”

“Don’t you think you should start the clock before you get me all riled up?” You protest as he places the bullet vibrator and a spare pillow in between your legs, the toy nuzzled snug right against your clit. “I deserve a fair chance.”

“Oh so now you’re the only one allowed to cheat and bend rules?” He quips with a teasing smile. You have no retort for that but mostly because Kento has turned on the vibrator. Your hips buck against the toy and pillow on impulse at the abruptness and you glare at Nanami who shushes you and begins to speak over the quiet buzz.

“Since it’s your first time edging we’ll start with 25 minutes, starting now. Whenever you get close you need to tell me. And if you cum before you’ve gotten permission then that’ll just have to be it until my next off weekend.”

“Your… next weekend off?” You would’ve screamed if half of your attention wasn’t on the powerful vibrations sending pleasure ricocheting through your body. “We don’t even.. Know.. when that is.”

“I know right? I would hate to leave my love desperate for so long with no clear end in sight just because she couldn’t commit to something she asked for in the first place.” Nanami fakes a pout and you want to bite him. It was bad enough he was threatening to really make you wait so long to touch him without bringing your pride into it.

Nanami watches the way your lips part and pupils dilate as you struggle to remain in control of your reactions. Your hips jump every so often, the rope biting into the soft flesh of your legs. When your soft moans begin escalating and you look to him desperately, trying to decide for yourself if you can handle anymore, it takes more strength than he’d like to admit to not touch himself at the sight of you. He makes the decision for you, and your head lolls a bit as you try to catch your break.

The waves of your demise creep up on you quicker after that. Again and again Kento brings you right to the edge, turning up the intensity of the vibrator after each break he allows you in between.

“I can’t- Kento I’m-” You moan, your voice crescendoing and your eyes screwing shut. You can’t help the way you rock against the pillow even after the vibrator stops and the orgasm that had built within you started to fade.

“Who told you that you could hump the pillow? That’s a pretty pathetic attempt at trying to get what you want.” Nanami chides from his seat.

Your face heats in embarrassment and you avert your eyes a bit. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Doesn’t that make it worse?” He laughs cruelly and lets his eyes rake over your body. “Filthy little slut can’t even control her own body?”

Kento gets up and comes closer, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. His touch was soft, but it was a reminder of the kind of damage he could inflict.

“Stop. Moving.” He warns you coolly, dark eyes narrowing. His ever-deepening well of patience was scary at times but right now you’re grateful for the mercy, needing chance after chance to prove you could make it.

It’s gotten to the point that the lightest of touches make you feel like you’ll succumb and let all your hard work go to waste. You’re almost thankful your nipples are off the table for this play.

“Kento- Kento please I really am gonna-” You whimper, your chest heaving. You feel like any more of this and you’ll start drooling.

“You won’t.” Kento answers.

The commanding bass of his voice makes your senses jump and you panic, barely managing to yelp out another “Kento please” and feel the toy shut off before you’re sent careening off the edge. Your muscles feel tight and your skin sweaty by this point. You can’t tell if Kento is more focused on the heaving of your chest or the way your fingers flex and unflex to try and alleviate the strain of keeping your focus.

“God..how long has it-” You try to speak once it feels like you can breathe a bit again. Nanami smirks at the way your head lolls to one side and your eyes lazily work to focus on him.

“You’ve officially hit 20 minutes, sweetheart. Only 5 more to go.”

“Do you realize how fucking drenched you are baby?” He smirks, pulling your pussy apart slightly to get a better look. “Makes me want to forget all about this and make you fall apart with my tongue a few times. You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Don’t.. Don’t say that. The rule is I can’t for another 5.” You force yourself to remember and steel your resolve. You know he’s really just testing you at this point, seeing if you’ll break under his pressure.

“Good girl” He purrs, soothing the small pout off your lips with distracting kisses on your thighs. “The more you control yourself the more I know I can trust you.”

You so badly want him to trust you. Looking down at Kento spoil you while teetering on the edge makes you dizzy. He could tell you to do anything at this point and you’d probably listen if it meant he would indulge you more. Your head swims with the possibility that he’ll treat you like this again if you do well.

Nanami moves aside the pillow and vibrator, replacing the toy with his own hand before you can get upset with him. The gasp that escapes you fills him with pride. All it takes is a slight touch to make your body completely tremble. You can’t actually tell that the alarm has gone off until he whispers how well you’ve done for him.

“See? Didn’t I tell you good girls get everything they want? Now you get to cum all over my fingers all you want.”

Your body is almost afraid to finally let go, so used to feeling coiled up tight that you feel like you might not be able to. Kento senses the struggle within you and softens his touch to bring down the intensity for you just a bit.

“You did it, you deserve this sweetheart.” He presses open-mouthed kisses up your neck, knowing full well the onslaught of praise would send you over. Sure enough, a noise from deep inside of you wells up in your throat as you’re sent crashing over the edge. You throw your head back and try to close your legs only to be stopped by Nanami’s hands, hell-bent on making you ride it out. Your hands clench borderline painfully, your arms testing your restraints. You can’t even plead with him. The pleasure erupting from you, for once, has stolen your voice.

Testing the water, Kento lets a bit of spit fall from his lips. You catch it on your tongue, staring at him lovingly with hazy, unfocused eyes and he almost loses his mind.

“There’s my sweet girl.” He purrs. Nanami knows you’ll be completely compliant now, dredging through subspace. You won’t be giving any coherent remarks outside of anything he commands of you now, all resistance and witty one-liners fading to static in your mind. “Been so good for me today that I actually get to reward you.”

You whine in appreciation. Chest swelling with pride, you bask in his praise. You initially thought it was more fun to see his eyes turn icy when you spent a half a session acting up in order to get punished into this headspace but you could get used to having Nanami painstakingly coax it out of you.

“Tell me your color, my love.” Nanami kisses your forehead, to remind you, first and foremost, that he doesn’t want anything if it doesn’t mean you and he are sharing the pleasure, even if you could only think about how good you wanted to make him feel.

“Green.. hehe..definitelyygreen.” Your words slightly slurred together as you tried to prove your focus.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want me to give you in return?” He leans down and whispers in your ear, rubbing your thighs soothingly. You have to think for a moment to actually get the words out, trying to get your brain to be more specific than Kento, Kento, Kento.

“Wantt… want to touch you.. And I… want you inside.” You strain against your ties, not even minding the slight bite of the ropes at this point if it meant he would free you faster.

Nanami lets you place ardent kisses against his skin as he undoes the restraints on your arms and you're thankful to finally, finally, get some contact with him. His skin burns with desire as you pull him onto you. He has half a mind to really pry another orgasm from you with his head between your thighs but the growing ache between his expels the thought. He hastily twists out of his clothes and back onto you. You’ve waited long enough for what’s yours.

Nanami enters you slowly, softly pulling your still-tied legs further apart. You will your eyes not to screw shut, trying to put forth some effort to meet his searing gaze. Neither of you really register the way your nails slightly dig into his forearms from the pressure. The pace Kento sets is torturous. He makes you savor every roll of his hips into yours. It almost feels like he’s squeezing the pleasure out of you. There’s nowhere to run. There’s only him.

There’s no warning when you cum again, your body completely bypassing your brain in the decision. It’s a rush of heat and an uncontrollable tremble. You can barely even recognize your own voice calling out his name. As you squeeze tighter around him, Nanami grunts and wills himself not to bend your legs forward and fuck hard into you until you’re a teary mess. There will be other times for that. Today he just wants to spoil his sweet girl for her efforts to please.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks, like he’s not literally fucking the words right out of your brain. If you still had the energy for it you’d bite him.

“Kento please. In...inside… ” Obviously. You keep that snide bit to yourself. There’s no real desire to sass him when he’s making your body shake this badly.

Kento grabs onto your wrists like he’s anchoring himself to you. Through the haze dusting your mind you register his pace getting sloppier and the soft moans that fall from his lips as he finishes inside of you.

It took a bit for Kento’s strength to return to him and a little while longer to pry his eyes off of your blissed out expression. He whispered for you to let go of him so he could take care of you. Shushing your whines, he pries your fingers off of him so he can untie you. He still needs to run the bath and start some tea for you and if he spends any more time in your arms he would fall asleep right next to you without properly performing his duties.

Once he’s back from prepping, Nanami lifts you from the bed and begins to carry you to the bathroom, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. With your head clearing slightly, you can fully feel the effects of your win on your ego.

With hooded lids and a proud smirk plastered on your lips you say, “is it too late to add a shopping trip to my rewards?”

#nanami kento #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen fic #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami jujutsu kaisen #micco.fics

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Eleven

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 3,534

Warning: Angst, Pregnancy, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

For the past week there was nothing but radio silence from Laura and Cillian had been away filming a short movie in the UK during lockdown which you hoped got his mind of everything that was happening.

He returned to Dublin just before your birthday and, whilst restrictions in Ireland had temporarily eased, he now had to self-isolate at home for 14 days.

Of course, you were waiting for him eagerly knowing that your three days of abstinence would now come to an end.

‘Well, hello friend. How was your trip?’ you smirked as you sat at the kitchen table in black lace lingerie, waiting for him.

‘I don’t think we should have sex Y/N. I should keep my distance from everyone even inside my home’ Cillian chuckled although, clearly, going by the bulge in his jeans he was happy to see you.

‘I will take my chance Cillian. Despite, it’s my birthday tomorrow and I do need you to fuck me. You promised, remember?’ you giggled and seductively spread your legs wide, causing him to swallow harshly.

‘I still cannot believe that I am hearing those words come from your mouth after 12 fucking years’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Well, you better get used to it. According to the news, we will likely be in lockdown until 2021 and, as you can tell by now, I have a very high sex drive and finally found someone who can satisfy my needs’ you laughed as you unclasped your bra, letting it drop down to the floor.

‘How can I argue with that?’ Cillian barely managed to say before beginning to smirk. ‘Let me go and have a shower and, when I come back, I will take care of you’ Cillian said before kissing you passionately.

‘I will fuck you so hard that you will be sore tomorrow Y/N’ he then whispered into your ear after your lips drifted apart and before giving your earlobe a little bite.

‘Go and hurry Cilly, I am fucking aching for you’ you smiled brightly, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘You are a horny little minx aren’t you? Go and wait in the bedroom for me’ Cillian smirked before disappearing into the bathroom.

‘Which one?’ you asked.

‘You choose’ he responded.

***

You sat down on Cillian’s bed and waited patiently for him in your black lace panties.

Luckily for you, he only took ten minutes in the shower and stumbled into the bedroom completely naked without losing any time whatsoever.

When you saw his cock, hard and ready for you, you couldn’t help but smirk and bite your lips in anticipation of what was to come.

Finally, Cillian met you on the bed and pulled you into another passionate kiss. This time, he held nothing back, and without losing any time, you shoved him down on the bed.

‘Are you still all saved up for me?’ you asked, taking Cillian’s cock in your hand and gently running a finger over the tip.

‘I haven't wasted a drop’ he smirked, but you found it hard to believe. Cillian’s sex drive was as high as yours and you didn’t think that he really didn’t masturbate for three days.

‘We'll see’ you said, raising an eyebrow. Somehow, that made your already irresistible eyes even more powerful.

‘I swear, I’ve been good Y/N. Although it was difficult as all I could think about was your mouth wrapped around my cock’ Cillian then huffed out as you kept playing with his rigid member.

‘Do you like when I suck your cock?’ you teased him, running your fingers over his cock and spreading his precum over his shaft.

‘I love when you suck my cock Y/N. You are so fucking good at it too, taking it all the way down your throat’ Cillian said. He was truly quite impressed with your oral skills.

Without another word, you gently ran your tongue up his shaft, made slow circles around the tip, and took it into your mouth. As pent up as he was, Cillian had to fight not to cum immediately. Somehow, he managed to hold back and you definitely were making up for lost time, as you devoured his cock.

Your hand moved along his shaft while you worked your tongue in feather-light movements, keeping Cillian’s cock in your mouth as you moved up and down it. You managed your speed, never going too fast, savouring the taste of him. You moaned as you worked, never taking your eyes off his.

‘That’s it Y/N, such a good fucking girl’ Cillian groaned as you continued to bob your head while one of your hands reached up to his chest, pressing your fingernails into his skin just enough for him to feel it, then lightly scratching down his stomach.

‘You look so fucking sexy with your lips wrapped around me like this’ Cillian groaned as you brought your hand back up, carefully taking hold of his balls, and slowly massaging them.

You moaned again and smiled as Cillian ran his fingers through your hair, starting to buck his hips in time with your movements.

‘Fuck’ was all he managed to grunt out in between breaths, loving all the attention you gave his cock and balls but, despite the pleasure you were giving him, he wasn’t ready to cum yet. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible and, with a muffled snarl, Cillian sat up and grabbed you by the waist.

‘I need to taste you’ he growled as you shrieked playfully as he threw you down on the bed in his place and ripped off your panties.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you huffed in response to his aggressiveness, but you truly enjoyed it.

‘You have such a perfect little pussy. I could fuck you with my tongue all day long’ Cillian said, making you moan.

‘But today, I want to hear you beg for it, Y/N. Beg for me to fuck you with my tongue’ Cillian instructed as he could smell how wet you were as he knelt in front of you. You loved when he was vocal, telling you how much he wanted you, telling you all the dirty and filthy things in his mind.

Cillian kept his eyes on you as he planted a series of gentle kisses, starting at your knee and moving up the inside of your thigh. Your breathing quickened as he got closer and closer to your pussy, but it didn't stop there. Cillian kissed all around it and the inside of your hip, then moved up along her stomach to your chest.

‘Oh for fuck sake Cillian, please just lick my pussy’ you moaned, but he wouldn’t avail.

‘Beg for it’ he growled as he brought his hands up to your breasts, teasing your hard nipples between his fingers before moving in with his tongue.

‘Please Cillian, please’ you begged, trying to get him to move back down on your body as he took your nipple in between his teeth.

‘Please what?’ Cillian asked as he flicked his tongue, then made the same circular pattern that you had done on his cock.

‘Please fuck my pussy with your tongue or your cock, I don’t care, just anything’ you moaned as you arched your back, trying to grind your hips against him.

‘I fucking love when you beg like this, you know that?’ Cillian then smirked as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close and holding you there, not allowing you to move.

‘Cillian, please’ you moaned again, finally, he moved a hand down to your pussy, feeling how sopping wet you were.

‘So, fucking wet for me already’ Cillian observed as he teased his finger along the outside, just grazing your clit as he passed.

You let out a whimpering moan, and tried to grind against his hand but Cillian pressed his palm against you, forcing you to back down onto the mattress. Then he slipped a finger just inside you, only up to the first knuckle, and slowly moved it in small circles.

‘Cillian, oh god, please’ you begged as his thumb pressed against your clit, not moving, but keeping firm pressure there.

‘Always so horny. Always wanting to be fucked. Such a dirty little girl’ Cillian huffed out as you tried to buck against him again, but he held you down, and each attempted movement caused his thumb to slip just a little, sending short sensations through you.

‘Please please please’ you pleaded again, barely able to form the words.

‘So needy, aren’t you?’ Cillian smiled, and finally pushed his finger all the way into you. You threw your head back and nearly screamed, biting your lip as Cillian allowed you to move your hips now. He pushed a second finger into you, now rubbing his thumb over your clit. You grabbed onto his wrist, moving your hips in time with his fingers, your body tensed.

‘Looks like you're about to cum all over my fingers’ Cillian said and you nodded.

‘Don't fucking stop!’ you demanded.

‘Too bad’ he then said, pulling his hand away. You tried to keep him where he was, but he slipped out of your grip and you collapsed back on the bed, out of breath and looking annoyed.

‘Not fair’ you pouted, causing Cillian to grin.

‘Alright, alright, I give you what you want you dirty little girl’ Cillian chuckled before he moved down then, kissing around your navel and running his hands up and down your sides. You put your arms over your head, closed your eyes and moaned, swaying your hips back and forth to his touch.

Cillian then kissed his way down your stomach and moved his hands along the inside of your thighs, tracing his way with light scratches. His tongue moved in feather-light strokes along the soft patch between your thigh and your hip.

‘Cillian, please, I need to cum’ you demanded and your hands were in his hair and your nails in the back of his neck. In one swift motion he moved his hands beneath you, grabbed your ass and lifted you toward him. His tongue found your clit and he made the same feathery motions.

‘You taste so fucking good’ Cillian said as your breathing came in ragged gasps now, short and sensuous.

‘Cillian’ you screamed out of the top of your lungs and, if you wanted to say more, the words were lost to a sudden gasp followed by a pleasures shriek.

Cillian took your clit into his mouth, sucking with all his might. He let you fall back down onto the bed, his fingers moving back to your pussy. He pushed two inside you without hesitation.

‘You going to cum all over my fingers?’ Cillian groaned as he felt your pussy juice running down his hand. He lapped it up, then returned to your pussy, licking and sucking all over. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, wiggled it back and forth across your clit, and never let his fingers stop pumping in and out.

You tried to talk, but everything you said was lost in incoherent babble, broken only by short shrieks and animalistic groans. Your nails dug into the back of his head, you ground yourself against his face, and Cillian felt her muscles tighten.

Your breathing became more rapid, your hips moved more violently, and you could tell you were about to cum. Just before your orgasm struck, Cillian broke away again. You tried to pull him back or hold him in place, but he was stronger than you.

‘God damn it! Why would you do that to me again?’ you asked. Cillian had never edged you before but you knew from your friend that this was a game he liked to play on occasion.

‘Because I can’ he smirked as he loved teasing you, knowing how badly you wanted him.

‘Please’ you begged again.

‘Please what?’ Cillian then asked again with a devilish smile.

‘Please let me cum’ you pouted.

‘Ask me again’ Cillian demanded.

‘Please, make me cum’ you said.

‘No’ Cillian said. ‘Don't just ask...beg. Beg for me’ Cillian demanded and you looked up at him and smiled like the brat you were.

‘This is a different side of you’ you observed.

‘You've just never seen it before. Now beg me’ Cillian demanded again.

‘What happens if I don't?’ you smirked, trying to provoke and tease him.

Cillian grabbed your wrists and slammed them down against the mattress, pinning you in place playfully. He leaned in, letting the head of his cock press against your pussy, and you let out a sharp breath.

‘Then you get nothing’ he threatened. ‘Now beg’ he smirked.

Your expression shifted, softening as you looked up at him and bit your lower lip. You continued to push your hips towards him, but he pulled back out of your reach.

‘Please’ you whined. ‘Please fuck me. Please make me cum Cillian’ you begged.

‘I'm not convinced’ he smirked and you were desperate now. ‘Please fuck me, Cillian. Give me your cock. I need it. I need to cum on your cock, please’ you begged again.

‘Louder!’ Cillian demanded, incredibly turned on by you begging for his cock,

‘I need to cum Cillian, please fuck me and make me fucking scream’ you practically screamed out and, just as you did, he pushed every inch into you all at once.

‘Oh god fucking hell yes’ you moaned as you threw yourself backwards, crying out and wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

Cillian began to move inside you, not slowly or gently, but with all the force he could manage. You kept your arms around him, your nails digging into his back, your face buried in his shoulder as you cried out.

‘Damn it, yes! Fuck me, Cillian’ you moaned.

‘Tell me how much you like it’ he whispered in your ear as he continued to thrust in and out of you forcefully.

‘I fucking love it’ you screamed again as you began to quiver.

‘You going to cum all over my cock?’ he asked and you nodded, screamed and moaned all at the same time.

‘Fuck yes, Cillian, oh god’ you screamed into his shoulder as your orgasm hit. Your nails dug in and your legs wrapped around his waist. You pulled him as tightly to you as you could.

‘Fuck Y/N, your pussy is so fucking tight’ Cillian groaned as he felt your pussy contracting around him, milking his cock as you came. He felt his own orgasm building now but, to your surprise, he didn’t cum inside you and when, you finally came down from your high, he pulled out.

‘You better swallow it all Y/N, I don’t want any mess on my sheets’ Cillian said jokingly as you scooted down on the bed and opened your mouth for him.

‘Give me all that cum you’ve been saving for me’ you moaned and, sure enough, so he did.

He grabbed a hold of my throbbing cock, but he hardly even had to stroke it once before the first spurt of his sweet cum landed on your tongue, followed by another and another, filling your mouth.

With a loud groan, he unloaded every drop he had been saving just for you as you had requested before he left. While you looked up at him with those eyes, you reached up and took him in your hand, pumping the last drops out of him.

‘Fuck, I love seeing my cum in your mouth like this. So, fucking naughty, aren’t you?’ Cillian smirked as he used his thumb to push the last few drops which landed on your cheek onto your lips before you swallowed it all.

When he was finally spent, he collapsed onto his back next to you and you knelt over him, and licked the final drop of cum from his softening cock.

‘God damn, you have sweet tasting cum!’ you smirked, causing Cillian to chuckle just as you heard the doorbell rang.

‘Uhm, you expecting anyone?’ you asked, raising your eyebrow.

‘No, I meant to be self-isolating, remember?’ Cillian huffed out before sitting up and putting on his briefs. ‘It’s probably the old lady next door enquiring about your wellbeing again after all the screaming’ he then chuckled before walking downstairs to open the door.

***

When Cillian opened the door, he was surprised to see your twin-sister Genevieve who had planned a surprise visit for your collective birthdays without telling you now that restrictions have eased and two people were permitted to visit other households at a time.

Cillian had met Genevieve a few times since she was friends with Laura and your mutual friend Eloise, all of whom you had met at university.

‘Gen, everything alright?’ Cillian asked rather surprised as he stood there in his briefs and a t-shirt.

Genevieve couldn’t help but chuckle and stare at his muscular thighs for a moment before asking whether she could come inside.

‘I meant to be self-isolating’ Cillian explained but Genevieve didn’t seem to care much about that and, without any attempt to social distance herself, she gave Cillian a hug.

‘Well, you may as well come in now that you came as close as you did’ he laughed just as Genevieve came walking into the hallway.

‘You guys look like you’ve come straight out of bed’ Gen laughed when she saw you come walking down the stairs and your cheeks turned red immediately.

‘We did, actually and I thought you were my neighbour complaining about her screaming again’ Cillian then said, causing both Genevieve’s and your eyes to widen. You were both shocked as Cillian looked at her entirely serious.

‘I am just fucking with you. Do you want a drink?’ Cillian then asked, causing your sister to laugh and nod.

‘I almost believed you there for a second’ Genevieve then said.

‘Well, I am an actor after all’ Cillian smirked before sitting down at the kitchen table with you both.

‘So, I was thinking that I would stay the night and we have a few drinks for our birthdays and tomorrow we could skype Mum and Dad down in Kerry’ Genevieve suggested and you looked over at Cillian who nodded his approval.

***

After you shared some take away pizzas and way too much wine, Cillian excused himself to have another shower, allowing you to have some alone time with your twin sister.

‘Damn, he is handsome, Laura was one lucky duck’ your twin-sister chuckled as she watched Cillian walk his room upstairs to the bathroom downstairs with a white towel wrapped around his waist.

‘Please, Gen, honestly’ you huffed out and she couldn’t help but laugh.

‘I know, he’s not your type. He’s just everyone else’s type and you really need to acknowledge that’ Gen laughed. ‘Plus, I am newly single, so you reckon he will let me sneak up into his bedroom later or would he be weirded out because I look like you?’ Gen then asked, causing you to sigh in disapproval.

‘Stop it. Find someone else. He is off limits’ you laughed, causing Gen to raise her eyebrows.

‘And why is that?’ Gen asked.

‘Just because he is’ you said with some frustration and Gen simply began laughing.

‘Whilst it is tempting, I wouldn’t do that to Laura’ Genevieve then said as she filled up her wine glass.

‘Yeah, Laura’ you huffed out as you took a sip from your glass. ‘Have you heard from her at all? I haven’t heard from her for a week?’ you then asked somewhat concerned.

‘Yes actually. I talked to her three days ago through Skype and we had a few drinks. She seemed alright’ Gen said.

‘She had drinks? Alcoholic drinks?’ you asked and Gen nodded.

‘Yes, she had two glasses of wine, why?’ Gen asked and you couldn’t help but wonder why she would be drinking now that she was pregnant.

‘She always has drinks when we Skype. Remember, a few weeks ago, she was almost hammered after two glasses of god knows what she was drinking’ Gen reminded you and you, indeed, remembered the Skype session you had with Laura, Gen and Eloise a little while ago.

‘That’s right’ you then said before excusing yourself just as Cillian returned to the kitchen.

‘What did I miss?’ he asked and you simply shook your head, responded with ‘nothing’ and quickly disappeared into your room where you decided to look through some of Laura’s old text messages, recalling having read some where she didn’t feel well just a month or two ago.

After scrolling and scrolling through the many messages, which took you at least ten minutes, you found what you were looking for, a chain of text messages between you and her eight weeks ago, which was over a month after her and Cillian had broken up with each other.

***

You: What’s happening? Are you alright?

Laura: Just feeling a bit off.

You: Sick? Not Covid I hope.

Laura: No not Covid. I just got my period today and the cramps are horrible.

Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’ for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminals minds self insert #dr spencer reid #professor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #homoose writes

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Childe/Tartaglia: Fiancé HCs

Aww, I give major points to anyone that actually reads my tags because it’s a whole lot of word vomit and brainworms. THIS IS MY FINAL OFFERING TO CHILDE SO BUDDY 👏 COME 👏 HOME 👏 This will probably be my last fic this week since I’m going to be busy with term tests and 1.1. Can you tell how slow I am with these asks?

I need to stop tagging so much because tumblr keeps making me repost...

This isn’t necessarily a part 2 from my other Childe fic [ “Enemies” to “Lovers” ] but you can go ahead and read it that way. Not sure if this counts for tags but it doesn’t hurt. To be honest, I was planning for this to be the direct part 2 but then his character story dropped and I got slapped in the face with inspiration.

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @dandelily @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea

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Childe/Tartaglia: Fiancé HCs

Your relationship with Tartaglia is unorthodox to say the least. Usually, the average length of an engagement is 13 to 18 months but you didn’t need a calendar to tell you it’s been far longer than that. You probably spent more time with your fiancé’s sister than with the man himself but that was okay with you. Tonia was a really sweet girl and you knew what you were getting into when you accepted and returned his feelings when you two first started going out.

Before he became a Harbinger you were friend’s with him and Tonia. Almost everyone in Snezhnaya was part of the Fatui, working in factories, or a devote follower of Tsaritsa. So it was a breath of fresh air to meet two people that didn’t align themselves to that mindset or become a slave to work. You slowly became closer to the two siblings until the day a stuttering and pink Tartaglia confessed his feelings to you. You think back on that moment fondly since that was probably the first and last time you’ve seen him act in such a shy manner.

The day he proposed to you was the night right before he became a Harbinger. It wasn’t anything grand and you were pretty sure he hadn’t even told Tonia he was planning on proposing that very night. He said that he was waiting for the right moment and somehow felt the right moment was when you were in-between consciousness. When you couldn’t even give him a proper answer since he popped the question right as you fell asleep, but for all intensive purposes, that was probably on purpose. You had to chase him down in freezing cold weather, coat not even properly tied, as you yelled he was a piece of shit and that if he never came back you would hunt him down and kill him yourself.

He just grinned innocently and waved back to you as the ship departed. When asked by a curious merchant who wasn’t native to Snezhnaya asked if he had some...family issues he simply waved it off and said you were his beloved fiancé. The merchant was left very confused on Snezhnaya’s customs and traditions on marriage.

You both made an agreement that only he would write to you. He said that it was because trying to get in contact with him would be impossible, considering how often he moves, plus the different names he goes under. But in actuality, it’s because he want’s to keep the people closest to him as private as possible. The Fatui know of his sister already and most likely know of your existence but as long as he remains a Harbinger they can’t do anything. He won’t let them. But the Fatui have many enemies and while he hates denying your existence, if it’s to make sure you live a peaceful life with his sister, he’ll continue to pretend he’s never heard of your name before.

While he writes to his sister that he’s taking care of trivial matters when he’s on his assignment, he writes a bit more honestly and detailed in his hidden letters to you. You make sure to keep them in a box hidden away from Tonia so she never discovers them but you have an inkling she knows what her brother is up to. She watches the way your face pinches, that your fingers clutch the paper a little tighter, and how you seem to tap the page two times in sequence.

Despite the raging winter storms that swirl around Snezhnaya, you are always warm. He thinks you’re secretly a pyro vision user waiting for the right moment to make good on your word and burn him alive. Whenever his travel’s run late into the night and he arrives home tired and cold, he seeks Tonia’s room to make sure she’s sleeping peacefully. Then to you to do the same. Sometimes when you’re lucky and you wake up early, you’re greeted to Tartaglia clinging onto you refusing to move because you’re warm. Even going through daily routine’s he always has an arm around you or some part of his body against yours. You feel that his habits is rubbing off on his sister because slow morning’s like these see’s you as the human heater. With Tonia hugging you from the front, arms wrapped around your waist, while Tartaglia support’s from behind, arms around the both of you. Your hands laced with his as you both act as a shield for little Tonia.

Tartaglia’s hands are always numb. He could be in Natlan where it never snows or facing the harsh winters of Snezhnaya, they are always numb. As if the skin of his fingertips were scalded off. Touching anything gives him an uncomfortable sensation so he wears gloves all the time except for two occasions. When he need’s to replace his gloves with a new pair or to lace your hand into his. He can vaguely feel the heat from your hand, see that you don’t have the same callouses that he has from wielding weapons, and can feel the same tingling sensation that would usually have him wrenching his bare hand away if it had been anything or anyone else, besides his sister of course. Instead he holds on as if you’re his last lifeline in the middle of the ocean, commits to memory the feeling of your hand in his, and the pins and needles that prick his fingertips fade away.

He grows restless when life is ordinary and boring so he’s always off fighting or doing something completely dangerous. He was the same before he became a Harbinger which leads to some fights between the two of you. You both handle fight’s pretty badly due to the upbringing of Snezhnaya and it makes Tonia sad when she sees her family argue. So instead you convey your inner worries through taps. One is for annoyance. Two is for worry. Three is for anger. Likewise, Tartaglia has his own system.

On one rare occasion, Zhongli managed to catch the sight of a flicker of light on Tartaglia’s clothing. It confuses him since aren’t ring’s meant to be worn on the hand? The only response he get’s from Childe when he asks why is a vague answer filled with mirth. He say’s that he’s holding onto it for someone. Zhongli doesn’t quite understand since wouldn’t it be better to keep the ring in a box if it were meant for someone else? Childe wears a ring on his pinky already but it might be a Snezhnaya tradition to wear one ring on the hand, while the other is close to the heart.

He keeps his cheerful attitude on even when it feels as if the world is crushing him. That might be why he names himself Childe. But when it’s just the two of you he takes the mask off, the armor slips off, and let’s himself relax. Time’s like this he just wants to hold you and as he puts it, recharge.

For all his confident nature in fighting he knows that a committed relationship with him is hard. That if you ever want to walk away and find someone new he won’t stop you, but that you never contact him or his family. He won’t open his heart for another person for a long while or ever. He would still give you your ring and whatever you choose to do with it is up to you.

Tartaglia’s goals won’t change. He still has his family to take care of and even if you decide to leave, that doesn’t change the fact he still sees you as apart of his family.

You don’t mind if his goal takes him away from Snezhnaya for years and years. Or if the letter’s he writes become fewer and fewer. As long as he comes home you don’t mind waiting.

It’s the middle of the night and he’s still awake. He just returned from his last assignment and Tsaritsa is already sending him across Teyvat for “business” related reasons. He just finished checking up on Tonia to see her sleeping soundly. She’s growing up really fast, he smiles slightly at the thought. She can already sleep on her own. He gently opens the door to your room, well really it’s both of yours but he hasn’t been doing a lot of sleeping there, and cringes slightly at the creek the doors give.

He takes a small minute to lean on the doorway and relaxes. He won’t have enough time to bask in your presence if he’s too make it on time. The winter storm continues outside, as if Tsaritsa herself is yelling at him to start moving. He doesn’t think there’s ever been an instance when they’ve been silent.

“I care about three things in this world. My sister, you, and my home,” Tartalia says softly as he walks over and kneels down beside your laying form, resting his hand beside yours as he places a soft kiss on temple. “When those three things are safe I can rest.”

You tap him two times. Your hand has laced around his in a loose grip to which he tightens. You both sit in silence as he wait’s for the pins and needles to stop spreading across his arm before speaking again.

“I know I already proposed but let’s elope somewhere. My next assignment is taking me to Liyue. I heard it’s quite a beautiful place. I’m thinking a spring wedding perhaps?”

One more tap but he’s learned to take your annoyance as you jesting or being flustered.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” you ask.

“I can try but I can’t guarantee everyone else will be,” he laughs.

You tap him three times. If you weren’t half asleep you would have probably thrown your pillow at him. He gives one last chuckle as his finger’s rubs patterns into your hand.

“I promise,” he swears.

He hears you hum happily as you begin to relax back into slumber. Slowly letting the feeling of his heartbeat lull you to sleep until your grip loosens around his wrist. Even as the winter winds howl outside you can sleep so peacefully. Unlike him where in the back of his mind are restless thoughts. Tsaritsa is asking something huge of him, another test of his loyalty and strength. He silently stands up as to not wake you again, gives you one last squeeze of the hand, one last fond look, before he leaves. Closing the door as quietly as he can, he steels himself to go back out into the cold.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #genshin impact childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin childe #genshin impact childe x reader #childe imagines #childe headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin fanfic

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anystalker707 · 7 months

Text

Playing with fire (afab version)

Pairing: Vinsmoke Niji x [gn, afab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Hate fucking + Semi-public Tags: Transmasc friendly / He's very vocal / Against a wall / Some insults, nothing serious [amab version]

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

“I’m talking to you,” Niji reinforced as he stepped closer.

You were bored with it already, sighing as you looked up at him. “What do you want me to do? I don’t wanna argue, nor do I have the energy to prove you wrong.”

“You’re truly stupid,” Niji muttered with a sigh. “With that bounty, being part of that crew, I thought you’d be better than that.”

“Who do you think you are?” Niji reached for the glass again, but you stood up and took a step back.

“Pirates will act like pirates,” you said, just to annoy him.

He growled as he stepped after you, stopping in frustration once you downed the rest of the drink. “You—”

“And then what?” You raised your eyebrows. “You’ll get away by disappointing your father? I bet that stupid redhead would even tell him something like ‘I told you so’.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “You don’t know me. All you’ve seen is my bounty posters. When my crew gets here, if I get an actual opportunity to fight you…”

Niji scoffed. “I’d like to see it happen.”

“Now what? What are you gonna do?” Niji asked before you could.

You clicked your tongue. “You’re so annoying!”

…Were you imagining things? Maybe he didn’t notice, breathing fanning over your face as he still panted, smelling like the booze from earlier.

“Niji,” you muttered.

“What?” His voice was sharp. A little pathetic.

You pondered the results of what you wanted to say, silent for a moment, feeling his grip tightening on you. Well, there was nothing to lose with an idiot like that.

The way you shifted made Niji stiffen a little bit—his eyes probably widened behind his glasses. Your thigh was right between his legs, too, pressing right to his crotch, and now moving against it.

“If you wanted a fuck, you could’ve asked for one,” you said with a chuckle, observing him intently. It was a shame it was so dark, and you couldn’t see his face that much.

“Shit,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant that to feel good for you as well.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Niji grinned more. “That’s the fun.”

You slowly allowed Niji to kiss you, but not on the lips. His mouth pressed to your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin. “Fuck,” you whispered, grinding against him again, but it was actually in encouragement this time.

Niji’s hands found the hem of your pants, letting his fingers run along it until finding the buttons, which he quickly started undoing.

“Go on,” you encouraged him with a whisper, running your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, ruining the styling. Before you could notice, Niji’s hands slipped inside your underwear, rough fingers quickly slipping between your wet folds until he found your clit while his other hand held on to your hip for support. “Ah, there,” you moaned into his ear, grip tight around his shirt as you pushed your hips into his hand.

Soft moans continued spilling from your lips as Niji touched you while you moved to unbutton his pants, this time. He gladly let you do so, gasping when your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb spreading the pre-cum across his tip. Niji was quite vocal. There was a pattern.

Something thick hung in the air with the silence before you started taking off your pants and underwear, kicking off one of your shoes in the process; Niji helped you almost automatically. He lifted you against the wall as if you weighted nothing, hands under your thighs to help you, moving to grip on your ass once you held firmly onto him.

Niji’s hair brushed against your face when he rested his face against your shoulder while he pushed in, making both of you moan as his cock finally entered you. The stretch gave you a burning sensation at first, with a little discomfort of the new intrusion, but it was something that quickly melted away once he started fucking into you. It was easy, with how wet you were, making it feel so good.

The fingers that sank into your ass felt good, too, digging into the flesh as Niji’s hips moved against yours. He moved to rest his head on your shoulder again, but you stopped him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“That ridiculous hair of yours,” you muttered through moans.

“Ridiculous?” Niji scoffed, giving you a harsher thrust—was that an attempt of intimidation? The way you tugged on his hair worked much better. He whimpered, holding you tighter as he kept fucking you in a nice rhythm.

“That’s better,” you muttered to him, groaning as he managed to reach a nice angle. “Mm, fuck,” you whispered, giving his hair a tug again, just for the sake of it. Just as the last time, Niji whimpered, moaning as his hips gained a more frantic pace.

“You’re loud,” you muttered to him, words slipping between heavy breaths. “Shut the fuck up, unless you want anyone to catch you. What if one of your brothers happened to run into us, hm? Seeing you bang some pirate you guys captured,” you breathed into his ear.

Somehow, your words only made Niji more vocal. He held you tighter, fucking harsher into you, making your gummy walls pull his cock deeper inside you, practically milking him. You let out a throaty moan, but it didn’t compare to him. If you two get caught, the trouble would be his, either way. Loser.

“You’re good,” you whispered into his ear, “but you know who’s better? Sanji fucks me so good. Always makes me cum so good.”

Niji hissed, pace faltering. “Shut up,” he said, voice shaky and stuttering. “I just—” He moaned when you tugged on his hair again.

“You never stop being pathetic,” you muttered, voice tight with the moans. You weren’t going to be as vocal as usual; you weren’t stroking his ego.

Both of you stopped talking, letting that relative silence permeate the next minutes as something ticked. The growing warmth in your lower stomach was the same that Niji felt, growing closer with each thrust. One of his hand slowly let go of you, only pulling away completely when he was sure you wouldn’t fall, and the sudden touch on your clit made you gasp, arching your back.

Niji’s fingers rubbed circles into your clit, pressing to it just the right way as he kept fucking into you. It was a trigger, making your climax march closer a lot faster than you predicted, soon hitting you as his fingers still messily worked on your clit. He breathed out moans as you came, clenching around him until you were throbbing, back arching while you still tugged on his hair. He ended up cumming as well, releasing deep inside you, keeping thrusting and coating his cum all over your walls.

That felt too good. Better than it was supposed to, making your mind blank until Niji’s motions edged overstimulation.

Eventually, your motions stilled, both of you just standing there, holding on to each other.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’ve had better.”

“Fuck you.” Niji clicked his tongue.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #op #niji vinsmoke #x female reader #x reader #gender neutral #niji x reader #one piece x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #imagine #oneshot #sanji vinsmoke

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downywrites · 3 years

Text

Purpled is interrogated about his linkage to the alien things that have been randomly appearing everywhere. Unfortunately for him, he genuinely has no clue. Aka, just an excuse for lee Purpled. Literally.

Ayo, mates! My requests are still open, if anyone wants anything written!

The whole alien theme was getting out of hand, in Philza’s opinion. The bird man couldn’t find a single place that hadn’t been affected by either the egg or the suspicious alien structures that kept popping up everywhere. They were pretty, but they were a nuisance otherwise. Tommy had been recently complaining of them appearing in front of his house, blocking his way out directly. Tubbo and Ranboo had complaints of the same caliber, having to blow the structure up with a few well-placed pieces of dynamite in order for them to get to their respective places of work on time. Techno had also spoken of random failed ship specimens slamming into him before, although the veracity of that claim is still hotly debated at the dinner table. Nonetheless, it was a problem. A very large, relatively irritating problem. And he knew one of the most likely causes was walking around the area at this very moment.

He scanned the area, sharp eyes undulled by the years scouring the grasslands. A small speck of purple made him grin. There he was.. Purpled. The alien hybrid was known to be a wanderer of his species, getting stranded on the SMP after his UFO failed to take flight again. Then, almost mysteriously, it disappeared. (As in, it blew up, and everyone tried to ignore the shrapnel that landed surreptitiously on their houses.) He had taken to wandering around, fiddling with the extra structures lying about with a look of indifference and a slight flicker of confusion, which added onto the SBI’s belief that he knew what they were, at the very least. Thankfully for the eagle hybrid, the alien usually didn’t pay attention to his surroundings when not in the field of battle. The key word there was usually, though. If he didn’t time his ‘attack’ correctly, he might get a wingtip chopped off by his quick-access dagger. Kneeling low to the ground, he slowly moved closer to the younger of the two. The other didn’t seem to notice, lounging about underneath the shade of a specifically tall tree. A bee landed on his face as he did, but he seemed to not notice, too absorbed in his thoughts. Perfect. The grass gently whacked his face as he slunk closer. Closer….a little more….

Purpled shrieked at the sudden sensation of being tackled to the floor, hand automatically reaching for his knife holster. His eyes shot open to stare straight into bolt blue. “What the fuck?!?” “Sorry mate, I thought you’d run away from me if I walked up to you normally.” He spluttered, mind quickly processing the absurdity of that statement. “So you tackled me instead?” Philza grinned from above him. “I mean, sounds about right.” Purpled narrowed his eyes at him. Wariness was a part of his genes, and he sure as hell didn’t think now would be a good time to let down his guard. “We’ve been wondering what the alien sculptures were. Y’know, the ones that keep miraculously appearing in the mornings. Half-startled the shit out of some of my pals.”

“Uh huh.” The alien deadpanned at the other, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “And this is the reasoning behind tackling me because…?” “I thought you’d know. It does look like you’re familiar with the markings and stuff on the sides of it. Is this true?”: The avian tightened his grip ever so slightly, in the hopes that he would take the hint and answer the question in a straightforward manner. “...Well, I don’t believe I can help you with that. I am not of that species of alien.”

It was Philza’s turn to deadpan at him. He cocked a corn-silk colored eyebrow at him, all playfulness forgotten in the staredown that he and Purpled were currently engaging in. “No, really. What’s going on, mate?”

“First of all, I’m not your mate, and second of all, I still don’t know. What, do you think I can magically glean things from markings?” Philza scoffed slightly. “Doesn’t your species do that? You know, your clothing and your fancy underskin lights?”

“Well,” Purpled answered, matter of fact tone slowly driving the hardcore warrior up the wall, “Our underskin lights and clothes don’t always match up, either. Do humans not have accents or...what was it?...dialects. Yes, that’s the word.”

Philza retorted, “I thought you were a child of your species. How the hell did you even get here, anyways? Do you think your family’s out looking for you? Is that why you don’t know anything outside of your species?” His words struck home.

A small spark of anger lit up in the backs of the alien hybrid’s eyes, pushing at Philza with a strength the other didn’t know he possessed. When he spoke again, his voice was brittle like ice frosting over wood. “My family didn’t want a mutant like me.” The avian felt a pang of empathy for him, loosening his hold a little. His eyes softened, a look of pity slowly growing on his face. The alien didn’t seem to like that very much. In a blur of purple and moss green cloak, Phil found himself smothered by his own garments, his prey’s footsteps leaving him behind. He shoved it off himself, trotting in the same direction to catch up. “Hey! Get back here!” The sound of his footsteps on the pavement echoed slightly, catching his attention. With a powerful beat of his wings, he boosted himself onto the street, sandals making a screeching noise as they made contact with the cobble. A small shape in his line of sight made him ready himself for another boost, wing muscles rippling and wind blowing his family braid around.

Purpled thought he was safe. He had done everything to plan. It was all within his calculations. That was, until the sound of wing beats caught his attention. ‘Can he fly still? I thought his wing was damaged? Oh shit!’ He pushed himself a little more, panting from exertion. He was tempted to use his own to get away, but he shoved the idea back down to the pit of hell it came from. ‘Oh, fuck no. Not dealing with that trauma chapter today.’ He swiveled his antennae around, straining to hear wingbeats… or any noise, for that matter. Confused, he slowed down to a jog, scanning the area for his pursuer. “Where..?” Suddenly, the world careened sideways. He found himself in a very familiar situation. “Uhhh...hi?” “Hello, mate. And sorry, mate.” The hardcore warrior unbottled a potion quickly, the grey potion swishing around as he did so. WIth a flick of his wrist, he poured it over the boy below him. The cold tingle of the potion made him yelp and buck under him. “No! What are you doing?!?”

As the potion’s effects began to make itself known, Purpled’s mind began to fog up, drowsiness slowly suffusing through his body. “If you won’t tell me straight up, I’ll have to enlist some help in finding out.” The alien wanted to retort, but the words stuck in his throat. Against his volition, his eyes began to flutter shut, his focus shifting from trying to push him off to just keeping himself awake. Philza decided to be a little daring. Before he lost his nerve, he pushed his hands through the boy’s platinum-blonde hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

If he had any last fight in him, it dissipated. With a small whine, the boy’s eyes shut fully and did not open again, his chest rising and falling with his slow breathing. “There we go. And now, I just need to recruit my boys to help me get to the bottom of this mystery. No more of those stupid scupltures, not if I can help it.”

“Seriously, are we just going to wait until he wakes up?”

“How else would we get him to wake up? Prime, Techno. Who do you think we are, brutes?”

Through the thinnest slit of sight he could, Purpled glanced at the menagerie of people nervously, hoping fervently that his antennae haven’t given away his consciousness. With the slightest movements of his limbs,he tested the bonds tying him down to the table. He was slightly grateful for the position, seeing that it had kept him from being in the direct line of sight of the duo next to him. The partially spread-eagle position still kept him in a state of unease, instincts screaming into his ears to struggle, to escape. The two people arguing sounded familiar. ‘Wilbur and Techno, maybe?’ It sounded similar, although he was pretty sure he was used to hearing the softer tones of the former’s voice from Ghostbur.

The only sight he had was the inside of the kitchen, the whole place brimming with chaos and entropy and… life. The fruit and food in the pantry was messy, certainly the product of the other people in the house. A twinge of longing snagged in his throat, stopping his smooth breathing pattern for a split second. He prayed that none of them noticed. It didn’t seem as if they did, continuing their banter and arguing over how they were to wake him. A heavy body got up from a chair, the furniture making an ugly shriek as it rubbed over the wood. Equally heavy footsteps moved into the kitchen, appearing in the boy’s view. The visage of the piglin made him sigh inwardly.

‘Yep, I think that’s Techno. And if Philza, Techno, and Wilbur are around together, that means the whole Sleepy Bois Inc. is here.’ An afterthought gave him pause. ‘And Tommy. I really hope Tommy’s not here right now. That would be embarrassing.’ Another pair of footsteps made him force his antennae from moving towards the sound mentally. ‘Shit, this is going to be a challenge. Curse my stupid biology! Why couldn’t I have had a better pair of sensory equipment?’

Philza came into his view, sending a slight chill down his spine. Was it fear? Was it adrenaline? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, it made his heart beat louder and louder, blocking out any ambient sound in the room. “Is he awake yet, lads?” A small frustrated huff escaped the only other person in his view. “Not that I know of. He’s out cold. How much of the sleep potion did you give him?” The avian had the audacity to scratch his head and look away sheepishly. “..the whole pot.”

At the startle and the turn of the head that the winged warrior got, it was evident that it wasn’t supposed to be used like that. “Heh? A whole potion?!?” Techno morphed into a significantly sleeker body, arms stretching out to grab at both of his shoulders. He shook the other slightly, eyes still wide with astonishment. “Why did you use a full potion on a child? Phil?!?” Wilbur piped up from behind him. “Shh, Techno. If you wake him up now, I don’t think we can discuss the plan of interrogation.” ‘Interrogation? Are they going to hurt me?!?’ A slight burst of panic flooded through his veins, forcing him to focus on tamping down his reactions in favor of listening to the others around him without clueing them into his awakeness. ‘Uh huh. The plan. As if we didn’t already discuss this twice before.” Techno made gestures he couldn’t quite understand. “We make sure we don’t hurt him, we get the info, so on and so forth.” Even his gestures were sarcastic. Purpled liked him already.

“Let’s just get on with it. Just wake him up already.” A smile played on Phil’s face. “Mate, I don’t think we need to wake him up…” He trailed off, tone smug and knowing. His antennae, the fucking traitors, curled up a little subconsciously as the man made side eye contact with him. The avian all but crowed. “I knew it. How long have you been awake, Purp?” The jig was up. He opened his eyes completely, wincing a little at the sudden burst of light coming from the skylight above him.

A gasp escaped Wilbur- at least, he thinks it was from Wilbur. It’s kind of hard to see who is who when you’re focused on one person and one person alone. “Don’t call me that.” His voice sounded unused, as if he had forgotten to drink water before he went to bed. Phil didn’t say anything in reply to that, simply grinning wider. “So, the three of us decided that we wanted to get info from you in a way that didn’t hurt you. It’s not something I’d like to have on my consciousness, the harming of an innocent person on the sidelines of something. Besides, it’s not that important.” Purpled’s muscles relaxed a little, reminding him of how tense he was at the moment. “But. I still need info, and it seems that ribbing you again and again won’t be effective for your caliber of stubbornness.” He had to bite back a retort to that, trying not to ignite the ire of the most merciful person in the room.

“I decided on something that I can guarantee has never been used on you as a convincing technique.” The avian moved closer to him, purple eyes following his every movement. WIth a slow, deliberate movement that he must have learn from ages of working with his hand-eye coordination, he placed his hands on his stomach, resting his arms there. Purpled tilted his head, puzzled. “How is this going to make me tell you anyth-”

He choked on his words at the sudden sensation of Phil’s talons scraping on his stomach. He froze in place, willing himself to not flinch or show any sign of weakness in front of the older. Wilbur and Techno stayed back, watching Philza’s movements with a focus that was almost unnerving to the teen. “What does this feel like? You stopped talking, are you okay?”

The avian definitely knew what he was doing, testing out different spots on his stomach with the accuracy of a well-learned tickler. Purpled trembled lightly in his bonds, still trying his best to not show his reactions. It was a challenge, especially so because of the bondage tugging at his limbs with every slight shift in his positioning. The feeling of being helpless was equally as maddening as the careful touch on his tummy. Even through the fabric, he knew that he wouldn’t last long with the way he was tickling him.

Just when the boy thought that he had gotten used to the sensations, the warrior shifted to his sides, nails barely scratching through his hoodies. “Snrk!” ‘Shit.’ “Oh? That was something! Purpled, you can make this stop if you tell us about those structures landing everywhere. Come on, little guy!” His antennae twitched slightly at his words. He shook his head, eyes determined and sharp. “N-no.” A sarcastic voice sounded out behind Philza. “Ooh, baby’s first words.” Purple bristled at the comment. “Why, you-”

With his mouth open, it was impossible to hide the squeak that escaped him as the light scratching turned into kneading. “H-hey!” Techno snorted. “Hook, line, and sinker. He is ticklish, Phil. Just need to find the ‘on’ switch.” Purpled really, really didn’t want him to find any of his sweet spots. He squirmed away from the winged man, trying to evade his clutches now that he was aware of the effectiveness of his interrogation methods.

“Stohop!”

“Oh, no you don’t. No escaping, Purp!”

He squeezed both of the alien hybrid’s sides, kneading a little more into the softer spots. The younger couldn’t hold his laughter back anymore. “Nohoho! Thihihis ihihihis uhuhunfahahair!” His legs and arms strained against the bonds, body bucking and thrashing in a vain attempt to escape the sensation arcing through his body.

“What’s unfair? All you need to do is to give us the info!” Phil’s eyes trailed up to his antennae. “Aww, your little feelers are getting all trembly! That’s so cute!” At the mention of his appendages, he turned his head to the side bashfully, a small bit of flush coming to color his face. “Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!”

“Is that flustering for you?” The eagle cooed a little, before an idea came to mind. “Hey, just a question for you...are your feelers sensitive?” Purpled’s eyes widened. “Noho!” The response was way too quick for his answer to be true. A cheshire grin slowly grew on his face, coinciding with the sinking/fluttering feeling pooling in his stomach. “Oho, is it your sweet spot?” His hands trailed teasingly from his sides up to his antennae, fingers barely grazing the bases of them. Just the lightest touch on them made him squirm and giggle. “Nohohonohoho! Nohohot thehere, p-plehease!”

“Oh? And why not, then?” Wilbur chipped in, chair making a squeaking noise as he stood up. “I think I’ll give you a helping hand, Phil.” A small, quiet “about time” escaped the avian’s mouth. Purpled wanted to speak on that, but the sensation of the light touch moving at such a sensitive spot made him bite his lip in a final resistance to the tingling sensation lingering there. He silenced himself, trying to stifle his giggles as well as he could. “What if I do this, Purp?”

The fingers scratched at either side of one of his antennae’s bases. He squealed, hiccupy laughter escaping him against his will. “EEE! Ihihihi! Nohohoho! Plehehease!” The alien hybrid shook his head, laughter squeaking a little when the movement accidentally scraped Phil’s nails against his skin. The fingers followed his movements, not giving him a moment to rest. Thankfully for him, the man ‘interrogating’ him seemed to understand how ticklish his feelers were, not doing much to speed up the tickling and absolutely destroy him. He was grateful for the moment of relatively gentle tickling, struggling slowly getting less and less and protests beginning to die more and more often before they escaped his mouth.

Subconsciously, his antennae curled closer to the avian’s fingers, as if they were trying to mutually stroke him back. The warrior glanced at Techno, then back at the feelers. ‘Is that some sort of sign that he likes it or something? Damn it, I should have tried to read up more about extraterrestrial body language.’ A sudden buck stopped him from wallowing in his thoughts. “AHA?!?”

“I knew your hips are a good spot!” He turned to look at his son, eyes snapping back to full focus. A beat of laughter from the younger below them passed. “Wilbur. Why did it take so long for you to get from the chair to here?” The musician shrugged. “Took my time, I guess.” Wilbur continued to rub slow circles into the squirming boy’s hipbones, a small smile playing on his face at the reactions he was getting from him. “Stohohop! Ihihihi-Ihihi cahahan’t!”

Purpled’s flustered facial expression and wide smile showed just how effective WIlbur and Phil’s tickling techniques were. The latter chuckled. “Guess the big strong bedwars player can’t handle a little tickling~” He spidered his fingers over his scalp teasingly, just barely grazing the feelers he was scratching earlier. The appendages twitched at the sensation, a small squeal escaping the owner through his already high-pitched laughter. “NohohoHO tehehehe-AH!” His words were swallowed up by his own giggles.

Wilbur grinned triumphantly, kneading his hand into one hip while gently fluttering his fingers over the other. Purpled’s sweatpants blocked some of the sensations, but it wasn’t enough to keep the sparking feeling from coursing throughout his body like an adrenaline shot. He threw back his head, this time avoiding contact with the bird man’s hand. “You ready to tell us, mate?” The duo slowed down a little, giving him a chance to speak. Purpled gasped for air, a smile still plastered on his face. He panted, eyes glazed over a little from the exertion. “You...you guys suhuhuhuck…” His hands balled into fists, resolve (and lee mood) taking over for him. “Ihihihi’m nohohot gohohonna.” Wilbur scowled at him a little.

“Seriously? You have some stamina for a gangly kiddo.” “I’m not gangly!” “Says you. You’re so short.” He growled at the musician a little. Suddenly, a hand laced itself into his hair, making him flinch in surprise. “W-wha-?” “Shhh, Purp. Let me pet you for a bit. How does this feel?”

The fingers slowly raked down his scalp, careful not to nick the then skin. The feeling was heavenly. There was no denying it. Eyes fluttering shut, he pushed his head into his hand. His feelers twitched happily after each round of stroking, making Wilbur stifle a coo at the adorable sight. Techno put down his book, sighing. “Do you really need me to help-” A finger at his mouth stopped him from speaking.

“Shh, let Phil work his magic. Maybe he’ll be willing to give us the info then.” Wilbur whispered, his glasses slipping down on his nose and giving him a disheveled look. A single hoof-hand pushed it up for him. Soft silence surrounded the group for a bit, all for the low, rumbling purr that was emanating from Phil. Wait, from Phil? The two of them snapped to look at their father, a flash of surprise overtaking them both for a moment. Purpled was….purring? Almost reluctantly, the hardcore warrior untangled his hand from his hair, a whine and a stuttering purr following him a little with his head. “Hmm…”

“More headpats after you tell us.”

“Mmmmnooo….”

Purpled opened his eyes slowly, almost boneless in his relaxed state. Philza gently spidered his fingers over the alien hybrid’s neck, smiling slightly at the sleepy giggles it produced. “Aww, come on. You sure you don’t want to tell us, little guy?” Through his giggles, the alien shook his head no, a louder bout of laughter escaping him when the warrior’s hands trailed down to his collarbones.

“Ehehehehe!”

“Kitchy kitchy coo~”

He squealed quietly at the tease, his face blossoming with color again. Wilbur decided to join in again. He carefully traced shapes on the boy’s thighs, enjoying the hybrid’s laughter. “Man, your laugh is so cute! So, Purplee, you going to tell us yet? Or are you having too much fun?” Purpled squirmed in his bonds, sleepily nodding along to what he was saying. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You are?” A mumble underneath his breath. “Phil , what did he say?” The winged man chuckled. “He just said he didn’t know, he just wanted to fuck with us.” Techno snort-huffed. “Of course he did. We are so getting him back for that.” “Why not now?” Blood red eyes shifted to the floor, then back to the bound alien hybrid.

“Because. Look at him. Do you really want to snap him out of this?” Coffee-colored eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “Is the great Technoblade being soft for a lil guy?” Techno cleared his throat, shaking his head and making his ears flop. “No. Wilbur, no.” The musician walked closer to him, looking up to stare directly into his eyes. “Is the great Blood God getting whipped over a bedwars player?” A low growl cut through the air. “Wilbur, if you don’t stop now-”

Another round of purring stopped him mid-sentence. “That’s it, Purp. You did great.” Phil glanced at the duo who had done virtually nothing to help him, a small glare hinted in the back of his eyes. ‘You will pay for this.’ Wilbur took a step back. Techno did the same, tail whipping at the floor in anticipation. The hardcore player treaded his hands deep into his silky hair, coaxing him back into a resting state. “Did you like this? I hope you did.” Sleepy eyes opened just barely, eyes twinkling with adoration. “....yea...will y’ do ‘t again?”

A breath that he didn’t know he was holding escaped with a happy trill and lilt. “Of course, mate. Sleep well.” For the second time that day, Philza gently coaxed the boy into slumber. A sleepy smile plastered on his face, Purpled’s chest rose and fell rhythmically once more, calm and deep like the lapping of a purple-platinum ocean. “Now, as for the fact that you two didn’t help me at all with that…” He stepped closer to his sons, wings spreading outwards like a rippling wave of pitch. Nervous giggles escaped Wilbur and Techno.

“Nonono! Phil, pleasE-”

Purpled didn’t wake until the morning rays shone down on his face, the scent of pancakes and the smell of home wafting into his nose. And, no, he didn’t inquire at all about why Techno and Wilbur refused to look the eldest in the house in the eyes.

It felt good to be with them.

He hoped it would always last.

#my writing #downywrites #downy writes #tickle fic #sfw tickle #my fic #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!purpled #ler!wilbur #ler!philza

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 5,229 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 7 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl continues to worry about Y/N and wonder about her past, but they continue to bond inside the safe walls of Alexandria.

Your name: submit What is this?

From that day forward, you and Daryl were almost inseparable. The growing closeness between you was obvious and spending your time together was like a subconscious habit you couldn’t break.

When he wasn’t around you, Daryl felt like something was just missing and it seemed you always ended up together, even if it was just to do nothing.

Not too long after your last bad run-in outside the walls, Deanna insisted on having a town get-together as a morale booster. There would be food and a bonfire and supposed comradery. You were lying on your couch when there was a knock on the front door earlier in the day. You winced from the continued soreness in your ribs as you climbed to your feet and when you rounded the corner into the hall you could see Aaron on the front stoop.

You immediately gave him a look when you pulled open the front door.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

You nudged your head as a way to say “come in” and Aaron stepped inside. You walked back up the hallway and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to follow. “I know that isn’t why you came by,” you said.

“It is too!” he argued. “Well… it’s at least one of the reasons…”

“Uh huh.”

“Tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted.

“But just—”

“Aaron, you know I hate this pretend bullshit…”

He sighed heavily. “It’s not pretend. It’s real. This place is real.”

“And so is what’s out there!” you argued back. “Daryl and I just almost died. That just happened! Am I supposed to forget about my busted ribs or this,” you asked, gesturing to the bruising on your neck, which thankfully was starting to fade at last.

Aaron’s face softened and turned apologetic. “No. Of course not. But if we stop trying, if all we do is think about what’s out there… what’s the point of living?”

Goddammit. He had a damn point. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes for a moment. You shook your head. “I hate you,” you said sarcastically.

He smiled. “Love you too. Starts at 7. I’ll wait for you to show up, and if you don’t, I’m going to come get you, okay?” He started to head toward the front door but turned around halfway. “Oh—and hey, maybe think about bringing Daryl with you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “…what’s that mean?” you asked suspiciously.

“What? Nothing! Just—you two are kind of alike in some ways. You know he won’t go unless someone drags him,” Aaron said.

“Uh huh…”

Aaron only grinned back at you. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. You heard him open the front door and returned his shouted goodbye.

“Fuck,” you said aloud. You needed a shower and something to wear that would hopefully cover up worst of the bruising on your neck… At least you could count on dim lighting conditions since it was a bonfire.

That evening, Daryl was sitting on the steps of the house hoping, waiting to see if you would step outside. Finally, he saw you coming out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. You were wearing a long sleeve thermal, with the sleeves partially pushed up to accommodate your wrist brace and the still balmy evening air. You had a light scarf looped around your neck, and Daryl knew that was purposeful. He got up as you came down the stairs and strode toward you.

You saw the archer and couldn’t help but smile at him as he approached. He had that stride, leading more strongly with one shoulder and foot than the other.

“Hey.” There was something about his deep voice that instantly put you at ease and you paused in the middle of the street.

“Hey,” you returned. You noticed again that his hair was shiny and looked soft, clean. He’d obviously cleaned up. “You going to this thing?” you asked.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shrugged. “I dunno. Was thinkin’ about it. You’re goin’?” he asked.

You nodded. “Gonna try. I guess,” you said with a laugh. “Aaron talked me into it…”

“Yeah, uhh—yeah, he came by here earlier, too.” Daryl rocked on his feet a little bit. He wished he was better with words because he really wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful, even just in your jeans and thermal, bruises and broken wrist and all. “Well, if you’re headin’ there I’ll walk with ya.”

You nodded and Daryl fell into stride beside you. As you approached the center of Alexandria, you could already hear loud laughter and conversation and there was a warm glow from lanterns and the bonfire. Kids were running around playing the kinds of games you did when the world was free—Ghost in the Graveyard and Hide and Seek. You shook your head as you took in the scene, your feet faltering a bit. “Surreal, isn’t it?” you said vaguely. Daryl couldn’t help glancing at your expression. Far from looking content or like you were enjoying the domestic scene, your brow was furrowed and there was a faraway look in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he acknowledged. “C’mon. Let’s get a drink at least.”

You followed him through the crowd, feeling somewhat more at ease, more okay with him beside you. Daryl handed you a cold beer and grabbed one for himself, nudging his head over toward the reservoir just outside the circle of firelight and bubble of conversation. As you left the refreshment area you snagged a bottle of whiskey too. You collapsed down onto a wooden bench with a sigh and stared toward the water. You took a long drink from your beer and drummed your fingernails against the glass. Daryl was standing nearby, his blue eyes narrowed as he stared out over the water.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention. “Come on and sit by me at least. Then they can’t accuse us of being totally anti-social.”

He let out a small snort in place of a laugh and rolled his eyes. His stomach fluttered a little as he complied and took the other seat next to you on the wooden loveseat, spinning his beer anxiously in his hands. The bench was small; your shoulders were almost touching.

“Look what else I got,” you said, reaching down and lifting up the bottle of whiskey. Instead of the reaction you expected, Daryl just gave you a calm but perceptive glance.

“Ya plannin’ on gettin’ drunk?” he asked sharply.

You stared down at the bottle in your hand and your eyes fell again on the brace on your wrist. “Maybe,” you said quietly, not even really sure you had said it aloud.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why?” he drawled.

You shrugged. “Does there have to be a reason?”

He licked his lips and leaned back in his seat. “Usually is one, whether or not there needs to be.”

He was annoyingly observant. You’d known him a matter of weeks and he always seemed to see right through you. But you simply uncorked the bottle and took a pull. It burned your lips and left a warm trail all the way down into your stomach. You chased it with another sip of your beer and tried to distract yourself by just staring out at the water again, looking at the glowing orbs of porchlights in the distance reflecting there. Every so often you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you.

“What?” you said, finally turning to face him. You were only a few inches apart. You thought you saw his cheeks grow a bit pink for a moment, but in the dim light you couldn’t be sure.

“Nothin’,” he said, turning away and gazing out across the water the way you had been just a moment earlier.

You sat together in silence for quite a while and although it felt tense at first, both of you relaxed into it. You alternately sipped from your beer and took pulls off the whiskey, a dangerous pattern because you weren’t paying any attention to how much you were drinking and you were a lightweight even before alcohol was a rare commodity.

But the longer you sat, the more you felt like there was a bubble in your chest, growing bigger and bigger and waiting to burst. Finally, you couldn’t hold out in the strenuous anticipation any longer and spoke what was on your mind. “You ever wonder how this place is going to fall?”

Your words were quiet and definitely a bit slurred. Daryl’s eyes snapped over to yours which were already on his face, surprising him as they flickered back and forth between his, holding his gaze steadily. He gulped and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Or when…” you added.

“Yeah…” he agreed again. “I do.”

You sighed and turned back to look at the water. “I think about it all the time,” you said softly, and Daryl thought he heard your voice break. You stood up abruptly and whipped your empty beer bottle into the water, watching the ripples expanding across the small pond. You wavered a little on your feet and Daryl jumped up, hands extended in case you needed to be steadied.

“I think ya better slow down on that booze,” he growled.

You simply gave him a defiant look and took another pull from the bottle. You held it out to him but he only stared you down.

“Nah. If you’re gonna be stupid, then I’m gonna be sober. And I’m gonna get ya some water,” he said, turning to leave. His momentum stopped when he felt your hand gentle on his arm. He looked back at you in shock and couldn’t help the kneejerk way his body stiffened. But it was only from surprise. A split second later his stomach flipped at the feeling of your hand there and he wished you would never take it off. But you had obviously perceived his tension and you withdrew it quickly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, sinking back down onto the bench, wanting to kick yourself for grabbing onto him.

The archer was left puzzled and chewed his bottom lip as he considered you a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

You were alone on the bench, waiting for Daryl to return, your head more than a little hazy from the whiskey, when footsteps approached. You knew they weren’t Daryl’s. They didn’t have his cadence and his footsteps were almost silent, even when he wasn’t hunting or tracking. You turned to see Spencer and internally groaned.

“Isn’t right that you’re over here all alone,” he said, walking around and sitting in the seat that was Daryl’s without any invitation.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, leaning away from him.

“Look pretty alone to me,” he said, downing what was left in his drink glass and actually taking the bottle of whiskey from you to refill it with a healthy share.

“Yeah, well, that seat—the one you’re in—it’s reserved. Already taken,” you said, snatching the bottle back.

He scoffed. “What? By that redneck? Seriously?”

You shot a sharp glare at Spencer, but knew the sting was likely diminished by the glazed look in your eyes on account of the booze. “You know his name. It’s Daryl Dixon. Not ‘that redneck’.”

“Whatever,” Spencer laughed. “Guy’s a nobody. Who cares?”

“I care. Now get the fuck out of his seat,” you growled.

Spencer only smiled back at you. “I think you’re just afraid that if you let me sit here, something might actually happen between us… Come on. You know there’s something here—as much as you fight it. Some spark.”

You stood up abruptly and stepped away from him, scoffing. “What the hell is wrong with you? I feel like I’ve been perfectly clear with you over and over again. Did you forget that I punched you out?” He seemed impervious to your refusal and only stood up too and stepped closer to you.

“Come on, Y/N. You know you want this,” he said, reaching a hand out and trailing his fingers down your arm.

You shrugged him off. “Don’t. touch me. I won’t tell you again.”

He soured somewhat immediately. “What is your problem? Is it seriously something to do with that hick you’re always hanging around? You have something going on with Daryl?” he said, mockingly. “Seriously? What a fucking joke. He’s a mess. Just some—dumb redneck. You deserve way better than him. You deserve someone with their shit together, someone who will string together more than two words at a time. Someone like me.”

You physically recoiled from him again. “You’re a fucking joke. Everything you’ve ever had in life has been handed to you and you’ve turned out to be a spineless, spoiled dick. You have no idea what’s out there and you wouldn’t last a day. You’d be lucky to ever be even a quarter of the man Daryl is.” Your jaw was set. “Now fuck off and go find someone else to bother,” you growled. “Try one of the other sheltered suburbanites. They’d probably fall for your bullshit.”

“I can’t believe this shit,” he muttered angrily, but you heaved a sigh of relief as he stalked off, hopeful that he would finally get the fucking hint for once and leave you alone for good. You turned back to stare at the water in front of you, gentle ripples still bouncing off the shore from when you’d tossed your bottle in. Your uninjured hand went to clasp around your wrist brace absently.

You didn’t know that Daryl was only a few feet away, returning with some water for you, and that he had been watching the entire interaction. And Spencer’s words had stung. Sure, Daryl knew Spencer was an idiot and he certainly had no high opinion of the moron but Spencer had also just verbalized some of Daryl’s own deepest insecurities about himself and even… about you and how you felt about him… and that had stung him deeply. But then came your words… and he felt complete disbelief, sure he had misheard. He felt paralyzed for a long moment as he puzzled over what you had said and how you had said it. But you had been forceful and purposeful. Daryl hadn’t imagined that.

He was so shocked that his boots were rooted in place. He stood there with that cup of water in his hand, dumbfounded, before he finally snapped himself out of it and went around the bench to stand beside you. “Hey,” he said, holding out the water. “I just, uhh—I just saw Spencer stalk off. He looked pretty pissed. Was he botherin’ ya? Are ya alright?”

You accepted the glass and drank deeply from it, suddenly realizing that you actually were pretty thirsty. You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. And maybe now that fucking asshole will finally leave me alone… Idiot,” you mumbled, looking back at the water.

Daryl shifted awkwardly on his feet. His heart was racing as he thought about what you had said. He watched with concern as you took another drink of whiskey from the bottle, this time grimacing a little at the burn. “Would ya quit that?” he asked, drawing your eyes to him.

You studied him for a moment. “Wanna get out of here?” you asked, glancing back at the crowd around the bonfire. Daryl followed your eyes and then looked back at you. His expression was unsure. He was trying to guess at your meaning. “Just—go for a walk or something. We can at least tell Aaron we came,” you said.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, alright. Somebody oughta babysit ya anyway,” he snarked. You pulled a face at him in response and one corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Alright then, chaperone. C’mon,” you said. Bottle in hand, you started to follow the edge of the reservoir, moving away from the glow of the bonfire and the loud laughter and conversation. Daryl walked next to you, content just to walk quietly. You ended up on the other side of the pond from the party, leaning on the railing of the dock and looking back across the water. Daryl walked past you to stand at the end of the dock. You meandered over to him and took in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. You couldn’t help biting your bottom lip. Oh, fuck You are in trouble… you thought to yourself. “Can you swim, Dixon?” you asked him suddenly. He had just enough time to snap around to look at you before you were grinning at him and pushing him hard, your uninjured hand flat in the center of his chest. He went plummeting into the water backwards and came back up gasping as you laughed hard at his expense.

“Are ya frickin’ kiddin’ me?! The hell is wrong with ya?!” he barked at you, treading water. His long hair was plastered to his face. “Oh, yer dead,” he growled at you.

“I’m dead? What are ya gonna do?” You slowly paced backwards on the dock, a wide, genuine smile crinkling your eyes, and the sight of that was enough to make any real annoyance Daryl had evaporate. He couldn’t resist that megawatt smile. “You made it so easy! You were just standing right there at the end!” you said back. “What, I was supposed to just not take that opportunity?”

Daryl let out a chesty growl and pointed a finger at you. “You and whiskey should not mix.” He pushed his wet hair out of his face and swam back to the edge of the dock. “Well…” he said expectantly, staring at you.

You laughed again and shrugged. “Well?”

“At least come help me get the hell out of here,” he rumbled.

You let out a loud laugh. “How stupid do you think I am? I know you just want me to come over there so you can pull me in or splash me or something! Besides, I can’t pull you out. Wrist? Ribs? Remember?”

Daryl muttered under his breath and pulled himself out on the dock, his wet clothes sticking to him, complete with sopping wet boots. He stared down at the water pouring off him onto the wooden deck.

You pressed your lips together in a pleased attempt to stifle more laughter.

“You’re dead,” he growled again, looking up at you. “I ain’t babysittin’ your ass no more. I dun care if ya do fall in and drown,” he barked, starting to stalk toward you to leave the dock.

“Oh, come on, Daryl. It’s pretty funny. I mean, if it were reversed—”

“My damn boots,” he interrupted, giving you another glare.

You stared down at his feet and grimaced. “Right… well… come on. I’ll walk you back to your house so you can change. It’s the least I can do,” you said, trying hard to stifle more laughter at the glare the archer was giving you.

“I should throw ya in right now,” he said. “Maybe it’d sober ya up,” he said, shaking the water from his arms.

“Hey—I probably shouldn’t be swimming! I’m a cripple, remember?”

“Uh huh. Convenient,” he muttered. He started down the sidewalk, leaving wet footprints. You jogged a little to catch up with him and although he could feel your eyes on him he was determined not to look at you, trying to pretend he was still mad. It didn’t last long and when he next looked up you saw that one corner of his mouth was quirked up in a half-smile. Your grin widened. “Ya are gonna pay for this eventually, ya know,” he said gruffly.

“Worth it.”

You walked with Daryl in a comfortable silence all the way back to the house he was sharing with many of his group members, although some had split up and moved in to the other house by now. You froze suddenly at the bottom of the stairs as Daryl climbed them.

“Woah,” you said. You pressed a hand to your head.

Daryl glanced back at you and rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp exhale. “Whiskey?”

“Yeah, it’s like it all just hit me at once.”

He let out a gruff laugh. “It ain’t hittin’ ya at once. Ya been slurrin’ for over an hour now.” He came back down the steps and gently grasped your elbow, his heart jumping as his fingers made contact with you. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some more water.”

You smiled at him a little abashedly as he led you inside. It was the first time you’d ever been in their house and you looked around, taking in Rick’s spare pair of boots by the front door and Judith’s high chair at the table.

“Here,” he said, shoving a full water glass into your hands. “I’mma get some dry clothes and rinse off this pond smell all over me. Thanks to you…” You laughed again and shrugged.

“You look good all wet though,” you said, the words surprising you even as they slipped out.

Daryl’s blue eyes narrowed and he ducked his head, mumbling a gruff “whatever” before disappearing downstairs to retrieve some clothes, completely baffled and unable to come up with any response to that. He hoped you hadn’t been able to see the warmth he certainly felt in his face. He came back quickly with a towel over his shoulder and some clothes under his arm and pointed at you vehemently. “Now just sit down and quit with the damn whiskey. Don’t go anywhere.”

You saluted him and affected a serious face, resulting in him rolling his eyes at you again. But you left the whiskey bottle on the counter and took your glass of water into the living room with you. As you sunk down on the couch, you heard the shower turn on. You unwound the light scarf from around your neck and tossed it down carelessly. Daryl’s crossbow was sitting on the coffee table and you picked up one of the spare bolts from where it was laying on the table and spun it absently between your fingers. You collapsed back on the couch so you were laying out flat and stared up at the shapes of the shadows on the ceiling. They shifted a little as your vision seemed to spin. You planted a foot on the floor to ground yourself.

You knew it was stupid to get drunk… but sometimes you just wanted to try to forget.

That’s where Daryl found you when he came back out, now in his change of dry clothes. “Y/N?”

“Over here,” you said, still spinning his crossbow bolt between your fingers. He looked over the back of the couch at you, leaning on his forearms.

You smiled up at him, just a small one, but it sent his heart fluttering. He was always amazed that that smile was just for him.

“Well, I think I smell a bit less like pond now,” he drawled.

You leaned up on your elbow a little, ignoring the twinge in your ribs. You dramatically sniffed in his direction and he gave you a look. “Less pond,” you said. “For sure.”

Leaning up closed half the distance to Daryl as he looked down at you and you felt suddenly like the air was charged. Probably just the alcohol, you thought to yourself, gulping at the sudden lump in your throat.

Daryl felt it too and he suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze any longer, running away from the feeling. It was magnetic. But he told himself there was no possible way you were feeling the same thing and he straightened back up and just like that the electricity, the heaviness in the air evaporated.

You glanced down at his crossbow bolt in your hands with a fluttering in your chest. “Probably shouldn’t leave these lying around with a baby in the house, ya know,” you said, waggling the bolt at him.

“She ain’t crawling much yet. But yeah… you’re probably right.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” you said. Daryl gave you a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. “Judith.”

Daryl smiled and looked down at his hands on the back of the couch. “Ya. It is.” You liked the way his expression softened at the thought of her.

You strained to sit up straighter, an arm wrapping around your ribs. Daryl watched the tight expression of pain take your face over and then pass and he felt another hot flash of rage about what had been done to you outside the walls. And he had so many questions he wanted to ask you, so many worries… but you were so closed about it…

You spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re lucky. You have so many people, good people, and—they all obviously care about you. A lot.” Your voice was soft and Daryl finally looked up again and met your eyes with his. He felt a rush of nerves.

“Ya. Don’t make any damn sense, really,” he drawled.

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

Daryl felt those annoying butterflies flit to life in his stomach again. God, you hardly had to say anything, do anything for that to happen. What the hell was wrong with him? “Ya got people, too,” he said. “That care about ya.”

You let out a somewhat wry laugh. “I’ve got Aaron and Eric. Aaaand… that’s about it,” you said. You discarded his bolt back on the table.

“Nah. Ya got more than that.”

Daryl’s response drew your eyes back to his in surprise and you swore that his gaze was flitting between your eyes and your lips. Your lips parted slightly of their own accord. You felt suddenly breathless and the space between the two of you was charged again.

You gulped at the tightness in your throat suddenly and looked away, running scared. “I’m just—I’m not good at letting people in,” you whispered, not meaning it to come out so softly.

“And ya think I am?” Daryl laughed gruffly. “People have a way of gettin’ in anyway. If they want to.”

You were struggling to come up with something to say to that when the front door suddenly opened. Daryl straightened up and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You suddenly remembered you weren’t the only two people in the world.

“Oh, good! Daryl, you’re—oh!” It was Carol. “I didn’t realize we had company!” Her voice had been much more relaxed, much lower when she first spoke, but her tone and face suddenly brightened when she realized you were there.

You climbed to your feet and gave her a tight smile. “I was just heading out actually. It’s late,” you said, shooting a glance over at Daryl. He rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck.

“Ya, alright. I’ll walk ya out,” he murmured. He could feel Carol watching the two of you all the way across the kitchen and up into the front hall.

You stopped in the entryway to turn and give him a small smile. “Thanks. For tonight,” you said quietly. He gave you a dumbfounded look.

“I didn’t do anything,” he murmured. “’Cept not kill ya after ya pushed me in the damn pond.”

You laughed at his confusion. “Yeah. You did.” You turned to leave but froze once again with your hand on the doorknob. “Oh—and you can tell Carol she can knock off the suburban sweetheart act with me, okay? I’m not buying it. I’ll see ya, Daryl. Goodnight.”

Daryl spun around to see Carol standing at the end of the hall, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the space you had just occupied. “Did ya hear—”

“Huh,” Carol interrupted. “Yeah. She’s the only person to figure that out so far.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded before looking back at the archer. “I like her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ya, she’s annoyingly observant. Rick tell ya she knew he was a cop immediately, too?”

“Well, sorry to interrupt your date,” she said with a small smile. “She didn’t have to leave just because I showed up.”

“Would ya quit?” he rasped gruffly. “Wasn’t a ‘date,’ alright? We’re just—” he shrugged and Carol raised her eyebrows at him knowingly.

“Wait—why is your hair all wet?” she asked, moving closer to Daryl.

He groaned and rolled his eyes again. “She fuckin’ pushed me into the damn pond,” he admitted in a low growl. Carol let out a loud guffaw.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely like her,” she said with a grin. “You should bring her around more often. Let everyone get to know her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes again and headed for the living room to collect his bow. “Quit tryin’a meddle, would ya?”

Carol laughed and tried to look affronted. “I haven’t done anything! God, you’re so sensitive,” she teased him. “What’s that?”

Daryl’s hand closed around your scarf, which you had discarded carelessly on the floor. “Y/N’s.”

“Little warm still for scarf weather isn’t it?” Carol asked, peering at it curiously.

“Ya. She was—she was wearin’ it because of the bruises on her neck. One of those assholes was—” he broke off as he remembered turning the corner and seeing the guy on top of you with his hands around your neck. He felt another hot flush of rage. “When we were outside the walls, one of ‘em was choking her. She’s got marks all around her neck. Probably didn’t want anyone else seein’ em.”

“God. I couldn’t see them in here. It’s too dark,” Carol muttered. “That’s horrible,” she said. Daryl nodded, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers.

“Mhm.” He gave one more nod to Carol. “G’night,” he said, heading immediately for his space in the basement, the scarf still dangling from his hand. He flopped down on his back on the bed, running the soft fabric between his fingers. His stomach was turning as he thought of you, that brilliant smile you gave up so rarely staying in his mind’s eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and chewed his bottom lip, trying to banish it. The hell were all these damn feelings? The archer finally let out a frustrated sigh and set your scarf down on his bedside table before putting out the flame of his lantern and rolling onto his side, chasing sleep.

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