#But I'd like attention like any man would
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Hi! I decided I'd try my luck with this. I love your writing btw, your Doll House fics are just amazing. Congratulations on 2k followers, you deserve it! Here's my request for the event:
Character: Tomura Shigaraki
AU Setting: Prison
Spice Level: NSFW or Slightly Spicy
Mood: Writers choice
Kinks: Daddy kink, size difference, virgin reader, praise kink, and if you want, non-con.
I was thinking maybe Tomura is a prisoner and Reader is a guard working at the prison. Thank you! I'm excited to see the results!
Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Quirkless AU. Shigaraki is a prisoner, reader is a guard. Straddles the line between Dubcon and Noncon, so beware!
Part of CandyCandy’s 2k followers event! Any feedback is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear.
You’ve only been working as a guard at this high security prison for three weeks, and you already want to quit.
It started out so well. The pay is good, the warden isn’t a complete jerk, you get along with your coworkers, and even the prisoners are relatively well behaved. Sure, they occasionally flirt with you or make inappropriate comments, but as the only woman guard, you’re not surprised.
However, a week ago you were transferred to a different section of the prison, and that’s when you found out that Shigaraki Tomura, the infamous serial killer and terrorist, is being held here.
Everyone in the country knows his name. Everyone lived in fear of him while he was on the loose, carving a path of murder and mayhem across the nation. And everyone celebrated when he was finally caught and sentenced to life in prison, but the public was never informed of which prison he would spend the rest of his days in.
That was six years ago. You were a teenager then, but even you had watched the trial on the news, being equal parts terrified and fascinated by the thin man with long white hair and peculiar red eyes. He had remained totally silent throughout the trial, showing no emotion whatsoever. No remorse, but no pride or malice either. At one point he looked directly at the camera, and the intense look in his eyes gave you nightmares for weeks.
So when your coworker led you to a cell with no bars, only a tiny window slot to look through, you were shocked when you looked inside and saw the notorious killer.
He was sitting on his cot, reading a book. He looked a little different, naturally after six years. His hair was longer, still that shocking white color, and he was more toned than you remembered. He probably lifted weights like the other prisoners did for recreation. He glanced up at the window slot, and his ruby eyes met yours. By reflex, you pulled away.
For the next few days, you had to patrol this hallway. No one ever went into Shigaraki’s cell, for any reason. Food was pushed through the slot on a tray. He was taken from his cell once every night to shower. It had to be when there were no other prisoners in the shower room, because the guards needed to focus their attention on him. Two armed guards had to escort him to the shower and then escort him back.
The guards didn’t seem that worried about him. In six years he has been completely docile and quiet. He rarely speaks and shows zero inclination for violence. Actually, he’s a model prisoner. At least that’s what the other guards told you.
Once, you were one of the guards in charge of taking him to the shower room. You tried to avoid looking at him as he undressed in front of you and the guard standing beside you. But it was literally your job to watch him, as awkward as it was. He didn’t seem embarrassed to have a woman in the room, probably because he has a surprisingly nice body, well sculpted, with impressive proportions.
After he finished showering, he dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, and as you stepped beside him to escort him back to his cell, he spoke to you for the first time.
“Enjoy the show?”
You looked at him in shock, more from hearing his voice for the first time than from his words. But once those words sank in, your face flushed with heat and you frowned at him. “Murderers aren’t my type,” you shot back, and nothing more was said.
Today, three days later, you find yourself on shower duty again. You and a friendly coworker are standing just outside the reach of the water’s spray, watching Shigaraki lather himself up, when both your radio communicators buzz with sound.
“Riot in Cell Block D! Everyone available head to Cell Block D to assist!”
You turn toward the door to rush over and help, but your fellow guard stops you. “I’ll go. You stay and watch him!”
You glance at Shigaraki, who is taking his time rinsing off, then back to the guard. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to stay?”
He shakes his head. “Have you ever seen a riot before? It’s wild! People are throwing punches left and right, shoving, kicking… it’s dangerous! Look, Shigaraki has been perfectly behaved since he’s been here. He’s not gonna mess up his record now. Besides, you have a gun. If he tries to make trouble, just shoot him in the leg!”
With that, the other guard runs off, leaving you alone with the wet, naked serial killer.
You place your hand on your holstered gun, just for your own peace of mind, and watch him warily. He glances over at you, and his eyes widen very slightly. He’s probably surprised to find you alone. A hint of a grin passes over his face, and he turns his body to face you, giving you a very clear view of his nakedness.
It makes you want to avert your eyes, but you can’t. Especially not now, being the only guard in the room. He probably knows that.
Suddenly Shigaraki groans and grabs the wall of the shower as he staggers toward you, as if he’s dizzy.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your hand still on your gun. “Are you alright?”
“I don’t know…” he mumbles, holding his head with his free hand. “Feel like I’m… passing ou-“
He lurches forward, falling, and you rush to catch him in your arms. It’s simply human nature to try to catch a falling person, a reflex you can’t control. And as soon as you feel his hard, dripping wet body against yours, you realize your mistake.
His hand moves swiftly to your gun, pulling it from the holster and tossing it across the room, far out of your reach. Your first instinct is to reach for your radio, to call for help, but he has one of your hands in a vice grip as he knocks the radio out of your other hand. It smashes on the tile floor, and you have no options left but to try to fight him off.
The struggle doesn’t last long. He’s taller and stronger than you, and he probably has a lot of experience subduing people by force. He killed a lot of people with his bare hands after all.
He manages to knock your feet out from under you and you crash onto the wet floor as the water from the shower pours over you both. He drops down to his knees, straddling your thrashing body, and quickly pins your hands back, on either side of your head.
“Stop fighting, or I’ll have to hurt you,” he says, his voice frighteningly calm.
You go still, smart enough to know better than to waste your energy on a losing battle. “You’ll never escape,” you tell him, trying to sound sure of yourself.
A disturbing grin spreads over his face. “Who said I want to escape?”
“Then what are you…?” Your voice trails off as you realize what he intends to do. “No!” you shout, struggling beneath him.
He grips both your wrists and then slams them against the floor. “Be still, or I’ll snap your neck! And when the other guard comes back, I’ll snap his neck too! I’m serving a life sentence, I’ve got nothing to lose!”
You go limp, whimpering as he straightens up, releasing your wrists. Even with your hands free, you’re still unarmed, on your back, helpless. Trying to fight him will only get you killed, and possibly your coworker as well. You’re dealing with a murderer, so his threats are definitely not empty.
“That’s it,” he says, lightly stroking your now wet hair, “that’s a good girl. Now keep being good for me, and you might just enjoy this.”
You look at him with venom in your eyes. “I would never-“
He covers your mouth with his own, his tongue slipping past your lips and mingling with yours. When he pulls away, he’s grinning at you again. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, where your eyes linger. You can deny it all you like, but I know what you want.”
“You’re wrong,” you tell him, looking him straight in the eyes.
“Really? Guess we’ll see.”
You can feel the water on the floor seeping into your clothes, the edge of the shower’s spray hitting your left arm and shoulder, as his hands move to the buttons of your shirt. With nimble, steady fingers, he unbuttons them, shoving your shirt open to reveal your white lace bra. Then he pushes it up, above your breasts, exposing you.
Turning your head to the side, you avert your eyes as his hands squeeze and rub your soft flesh. You refuse to make a sound. You won’t give him the satisfaction.
Once he’s done groping your chest, he moves down, unbuckling your belt, then unzipping your standard gray uniform pants. You draw in a sharp breath as he yanks your pants down your legs, but otherwise remain silent.
“Moment of truth,” he says, then he pauses. You glance back at him, and he says, “I’ll make a deal with you. If your pussy isn’t wet at all, and not from the water, I’ll stop. I won’t touch you again. But if you’re all sticky and ready for me…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. You squint your eyes closed, and he pulls your panties off before opening your legs. You feel his fingers touch you, slide into you way too easily, and then he laughs.
“In knew it! You’re drenched.”
You open your eyes, your face hot with embarrassment. “It’s the water! I’m not… aroused.”
He holds his fingers up, moving them like scissors to show the stretchy strings of fluid. “This isn’t water.”
You look away again, tears blurring your vision. Even you don’t know why you’re turned on by him. He’s a killer! “Just… don’t hurt me,” you finally say. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Huh?” He looks confused for a moment, staring at your face with red eyes until your words click. “Wait, never? So you’re…?”
You don’t say anything to confirm it, you don’t have to. You’re waiting for some gross comment or mockery, but he just leans his face down close to your ear and says, “I’ll take care of you.”
What does that mean? Before you can react, his fingers are inside you again, probing, stroking, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. You let out a small cry, and then clamp your hand over your mouth. You swore you wouldn’t make a sound!
Shigaraki grins down at you. “Cute,” he says, before dipping his head down to kiss your neck. He’s being strangely gentle, kissing you like a lover, making your heart flutter even as your mind rejects everything that’s happening right now.
You feel pleasure building in your core, and you fight the feeling with everything you have. You can’t cum from being touched by this monster! You just can’t!
Mercifully, he stops, pulling his hand away and licking his fingers. You watch him, your breaths coming faster, your heart pounding. Then, you feel his hands on your hips, holding you in place. You don’t struggle as he pushes himself inside you, slowly and carefully, looking you in the eyes. You’re not even sure if you want to struggle anymore.
There’s a disturbing beauty to him as he hovers over you, his damp white hair spilling over his shoulders, his intense eyes shimmering. When he begins moving inside you, he starts with shallow thrusts, slightly stretching you as he goes. There’s a bit of a sting, but nothing like you expected, especially with him.
“You’re doing so good,” he says into your ear before kissing your lips again and thrusting a bit deeper. “Being such a good girl for me.”
As he starts to go faster, harder, he reaches down with one hand and strokes your clit with his fingers, making your hips buck reflexively. A moan escapes you, but at this point you’ve stopped caring if you make noise. You both hate this and love it, and you can’t decide which emotion is stronger.
The pleasure builds again, spiraling through your body, and this time, nothing you can do will stop it.
You cry out as you climax, your back arching. Shigaraki has one hand on your thigh, the other buried in your hair, and he keeps fucking you deeply as you ride out the storm of pleasure, clenching tightly around him. Eventually you feel him twitch inside you, and then he cums, not even bothering to try pulling out. He coats your insides completely, looking down at you with twisted affection in his eyes. “Good girl,” he says, before pulling out of you and standing up.
He showers off again while you scramble to put your wet clothes back on, having no idea what to do about this. And so when your fellow guard finally returns, you’re silent besides telling him you got wet catching Shigaraki when he nearly fainted.
Your mind is racing. Shigaraki dresses and smiles at you as you escort him back to his cell, looking almost smug.
As you lock the door, he looks at you and says, “I hope you’ll be on shower duty more often.”
#shigaraki x reader#shiragaki#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki smut#bnha smut#bnha x reader#x reader#candys2kevent
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really lovvvve toxic ex megumi who can't stop being around you after you're break up. follows you to the parties you attend, meets with you, you both have an argument and then make out. <33
The cycle repeats until you take him back, you might as well anyway, it's not like you can get rid of him<3
godddd toxic ex megumi <3 <3 we'll always go back to uuuu
you see him before he sees you. or at least, he happens to not be looking when your eyes find him in the crowd. it happens too naturally for your taste. instantly there's something bitter in your mouth and you feel your eye begin to twitch.
but you play it off and try not to pay him any attention. you're at a house party, and you already found some eye candy that would much better suit your attention for the time being. would you see him after tonight? no, definitely not. but the more you sip your drink and flutter your lashes at him, the more appealing he becomes. especially now that you-know-who is here.
and who invited him anyways? your mind wanders even as you keep your eyes on the handsome company you forget the name of. all that matters is he's blonde- not a ravenette- and he's got brown eyes -not deep, beautiful ocean blue...- and what were you thinking about again..?
"she has a boyfriend you know"
you have to shut your eyes to regain some false sense of peace. otherwise you would've whirlled around already to try to kick the shins of the 6 foot toxic piece of-
"you do?" your blonde placeholder looks down at you with confusion in his eyebrows. your own expression is unamused, bored, and quite frankly you're not sure who to direct it at at this point.
"she does" megumi confirms. your elbow hits his forearm in warning, but it's not nearly strong enough to get him to back off. he's already made his stance clear in coming straight to you in this crowd of people, and your gut is already telling you that you're going to fall for it.
"i don't, actually," you reply, giving your nameless suitor a sickeningly sweet smile. "in fact, i'd even go as far to say i've never been as single as i am right now"
the blonde man clearly isn't in the state of mind for these games, his eyes shifting between you and megumi, and it's obvious to you both that he's made up his mind before he's even said anything. you don't have to turn around to know that megumi is glaring this sucker down until he cowers out.
and as expected, your once suitor bids you a fast, "well, have a good time!" before turning and booking it away from you and your baggage.
your baggage grins down at you as he takes his place. you huff and shut your eyes again, this time pinching the bridge of your nose as you wrap your half-drunken head around what just happened.
"what the hell do you think you're-"
"you look stunning, by the way,"
megumi cuts you off, he could skip the part where you chew him out for his behavior, it's nothing he hasn't heard before. you try to smack his hand away when his fingers tug at the fabric resting over your hip, but he ignores that too. he's far too interested in watching the short skirt of your dress ride up your thigh when he tugs on it.
"i like this dress," he mumbles out his thoughts, and you should smack him again, but you don't. his knuckles graze your skin and your thoughts start to go blurry. "haven't seen this before"
"well, it's been a month, so..."
your answer is weak and you both know it. you hate that when he looks at you, your heart starts to race. you hate that you know what's coming next, and that if you wanted to badly enough, you could stop it.
because when megumi says, "come with me" and beckons you to follow him, you do without a word. you follow close behind him as he wanders through the crowd before he gets to the patio door, and you stupidly follow him out through it, where you're both alone.
"you can't keep doing this" you say, but it's a mumble, and when you lean into the exterior wall of the house, he's in your space again in a second.
megumi's convinced himself that he's not manipulative, you're just so willing. why else would you wear that dress to a party you knew he'd be at? why else would you follow him somewhere where you could be alone? and you don't exactly push him away when he leans in close and tilts your chin up to bring you even closer. you bat your lashes at him and pout your lips- you're practically begging for it.
"don't be like that baby," he murmurs and you're melting before him. did you leave your drink inside? because now you find your hands empty and you need something to fiddle with or else they're gonna end up in his hair- "missed you, y'know"
you sigh, shutting your eyes and trying to tilt your head away, lean it back into the wall, but megumi's quick to cup his large palm around the back of your head and bring you back towards him.
or into him would be more like it, because his lips are on yours without any other warning.
you move your hands to shove him away, but they have their own will and they end up fisting his tee shirt to pull him in closer until you're so pushed up against the wall that your dress is being dragged up your thighs. the material wants to bunch up at your hips, despite your efforts to keep yourself partially decent, megumi has other ideas in mind when he decides to grab you by the legs and lift you. his hips pin you to the wall again with an ease you're all too used to, and it's around then that you don't care where the state of your dress lies.
he has the nerve to mumble nothings into your mouth as you sloppily meet his lips in every heated kiss. things you've heard too many times,
"see? you missed me too"
"i knew you'd want to get back together"
"we're so good together, baby"
and as you always do, you'll fall for it for however long it lasts this time. because no matter how many times you've broken up, you've never gotten over megumi.
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thunderstruck | marcus pike
Summary | You're scared of storms but it's okay, because Marcus always knows how to soothe you.
Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader
Word Count | 1.4K
Warnings | Explicit - descriptions of thunderstorms, softness/fluff, rain, established relationship, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, our boy Marcus just being Marcus. No use of y/n.
Authors Note | This is my contribution to @undercoverpena's April Showers Challenge. It's a blessing that I got anything out because this brief gave me so many ideas, but I've missed my man and knew he would be the one I'd want to comfort me through a rain storm. Enjoy.
Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
Divider by @saradika
Are you busy?
No baby, what’s up?
I don’t like the storm.
They’ve never been your favourite. Something about growing up on the coast, when the rain and wind would bring the waves crashing near your home, and your parents would walk about like nothing was wrong and there wasn’t the immediate danger of your house being washed out to sea. The nights, when the wind would clatter the shutters against the windows and drag tiles from the roof to break onto the ground. It might be Washington D.C. now and you might live in a new apartment building, but it doesn’t make the torrential rain and gale force winds any easier to handle.
You’re sitting on the couch, curtains drawn with all the lights on to try and make it feel less scary, but when the first clap of thunder hits you jump and scream all the same, burying yourself further under the blanket, some childhood wish for that to keep you safe.
There’s a knock at the door a little while later, the only thing that could drag you from the warm cocoon of blankets. Padding gently to the door, you open it, Marcus stood in front of you, dripping wet from the storm outside. He steps across the threshold, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips to press a kiss to the crown of your head.
“This feels stupid.” You grumble as you shut the door behind him, following close to his heels as he walks through your apartment, so familiar with it now that it feels like home to have to him here.
“It’s not stupid if you’re scared, baby.” He soothes, sitting down on your couch, opening his arm to encourage you to snuggle into his side, which you do without question.
You can feel his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm as you settle a little, but it’s short-lived, when a crash of thunder bellows through the room from outside, making you jump and bury your head into the side of his neck with a groan.
“I blame the coast,” You speak softly, “I was always so scared of it blowing our house away when I was small.”
“You know what helps?” Marcus murmurs against your head, another soft kiss placed to it.
“Hmmm?”
“Sometimes you’ve just got to be louder than the storm.”
You look up at him, confused for a second, until you can feel him moving the two of you, laying you gently down on the couch. His mouth sponges kisses across your neck, trailing down across your collarbone before he drags it away to peel your tank top from your body. You hear Marcus hum in approval at your lack of bra, his hands gently pressing your tits together before his mouth is suckling a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over it until it’s stiffened to a peak, giving the same attention to the other side until you’re gasping, bucking your hips into his, the bulge in his trousers evident as his mouth trails further south, tongue leaving a trail from your tits and down your stomach until he gets to the waistband of your pyjama pants.
“Lift up.” He murmurs softly, voice almost drowned out by the constant smattering of rain against the windows.
Doing as you’re told, you lift your hips up, letting him hook his fingers into the waistband to drag them down your legs. You miss the weight and warmth of his body when it’s gone, but then you feel his warm palms on the inside of your thighs, pressing your legs open, and then you don’t mind so much at all, especially when you look up at him, watching him admire the already sticky mess accumulating between your thighs.
Marcus moves to run his thumb across your folds, dragging your slick across your skin, but not daring to dip below to where you truly want him.
“Such a pretty pussy.” He muses, moving to situate himself between your legs, hot mouth pressing wet kisses to the delicate skin of your thighs, teasing you by putting his mouth everywhere but where you need it most.
“M-Marcus, please.” You whimper when his face moves, he’s so close to your cunt you can feel the hot of his breath.
“What do you want, baby?” He asks, running that damn thumb over your folds once more, this time though, his other thumb rests to the side, gently pulling your folds apart to bare you to him, “Want me to kiss it a little?”
“Oh god, oh please Marcus, please.”
“Sound so pretty when you beg for it.” He speaks, and you’re about to say something smart when he leans forward and presses a single, open-mouth kiss to your clit.
It’s tiny in comparison to what you really want, but it makes you throw your head back anyway, back arching, trying to press your cunt closer to his face. Thankfully, he takes pity on you, kisses your clit once, twice more, and then you can feel the tip of his tongue, flicking up against your clit, then dragging back down, sometimes circling, working you gently until you’re whining and bucking your hips into his face.
You’d almost forgotten about the storm outside, the movements of his tongue distracting you just enough, until the loudest clap of thunder echoes through the apartment. It makes you scream, jumping slightly, but you feel Marcus’ hands grip tightly to the skin of your thighs, tearing his mouth away from you. You look down at him, mouth glistening with a mix of your slick and his spit, glint across his brown eyes.
“What did I say?” He asks, squeezing at your thighs again, “What did I tell you earlier?”
“Um…” You wrack your brain, trying to remember, “I needed to be louder than the storm?”
“That’s right, my clever girl,” He praises, heat rising across your skin, “If you scream for me, you won’t notice.”
Once again, before you can retort with your smart mouth, he’s back on you, lips closing around your clit, tongue resuming it’s flicking across your bundle of nerves, but then you can feel two of his fingers sinking inside you, easing into your walls, curling up against that perfect spot inside of you.
It makes you cry out, his name dropping from your lips as you arch off the couch, his tongue working in time to the press of his two fingers in your cunt. You’re chanting his name into the room, moving your hips in time to the movements of his hands until you’re teetering on the edge of bliss. He knows, of course he does, the way your walls start to flutter around his fingers, so he slows his fingers, keeping you dangling over the edge but not quite pushing you just yet.
“Marcus p-please,” You whimper, hands tangling in his hair, “Please make me come.”
“You asked so nicely, baby,” He muses against your pussy, letting his fingers curl just perfectly against the spongy spot inside you, “Whenever you’re ready honey.”
It takes very little more, his mouth suckling at your clit, his fingers pressing inside you, and then you’re crashing, skin aflame with pleasure as you do exactly as he told you and scream his name into the living room, body convulsing, gushing around his fingers as they still inside you. You’re clenching around him as his tongue moves gently across your clit to work you through your orgasm until you’re boneless and pliant beneath him.
Marcus drags his fingers from you, letting them run up the skin of your thighs, as he finally relents and pulls away from you, just in time for more thunder to sound out, this time a little further away.
“Well, listen there,” He whispers, fingers moving to undo the button of his trousers, “Storm still hasn’t passed,” He speaks as he drags the zipper down, “Think you can make a little more noise, baby?”
You reach up, hand clutching the back of his neck to pull him back down on top of you, mouth meeting his, tasting yourself on his tongue as he kisses you before you pull away, “I can make all the noise you want.”
#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike Smut#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x you#marcus pike fanfiction#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x F!reader#Marcus Pike fic#Marcus Pike fanfic#the mentalist#the mental illness is winning#the mentalist fanfic#the mentalist fanfiction#Pedro pascal#marcus pike fluff#Marcus Pike angst#Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal#Marcus Pike The mentalist
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I can't with this anymore uhhhhhhggggg
"AITAH for creating a private doc to keep notes on what my racist teacher said"
I have this teacher who said a lot of shit (eg. "Ashkenazi people were Europeans forcefully converted by invading Jews", "the Torah mentions Jesus and Mohammed", "Judaism started in Ethiopia because it's the oldest religion and therefore must come from where all people do", "getting angry at Houthis for attacking Israel is like getting angry at a l*nched man for struggling on the noose", etc.). No one cared that she said these things besides a boy she kept deadnaming, a girl who she used as an example talking about slave r*pe, and a kid who she humiliated in front of the class a few times.
When I reported this shit to the dean he was concerned as fuck and 100000% on my side because he's really cool. And to report the stuff, I'd been using a private google doc to keep track of what she'd said. The principal though was overly optimistic and decided instead of talking to the teacher in private, she would hold a class discussion! Yaaaaaaayyyyyyy. I was less than pleased by this, and at the discussion most people took her side. I eventually decided to share the doc with the other three kids so I could get better firsthand accounts.
But then the doc started spreading.
One of the other kids shared it with this boy who she used to mock and throw under the bus, and he shared it with his friend. Who shared it with another friend. Things went like whisper-down-the-lane until someone, I don't know WHO, got a hold of it and shared it to the whole. Fucking. Class. Including the teacher. People started claiming the doc was Islamophobic and didn't elaborate why, and saying we were only "attacking" the teacher because she was Muslim. Or that we only reported this stuff to get drama and attention. The principal herself even said that this was happening because we have varying cultures, which is BS because I have plenty of Muslim friends who have never said ANY of the shit this lady has. That is waaaayyyy more Islamophobic of a statement and I felt offended on my friends' behalf with that one.
I feel bad for the teacher for seeing that doc, but then again, I myself am suffering because someone leaked all my personal opinions to the class. I'm a super conflict avoidant person because I have severe ADHD and OCD and mild autism (ASD1, to be specific), and I hate being involved. I want to sympathize for her. I really do. But when asked to apologize for what she said, she started defending herself and saying we were all closed-minded for not thinking what we previously thought was wrong. My mom wants to take me out of the class to do an independent study project so I can pass the required course without being in that classroom. Because nothing gets in the way of Jewish parents. Especially during Passover.
My classmates are saying she's a sweet lady and it was wrong of us to get upset at her, so are we the bad guys and/or am I overreacting to this scenario.
Anon I'm going to be very honest here. You are absolutely NTA here. And you're not overreacting at all. Your teacher is being very offensive, not to mention historically wrong.
And the doc? If she didn't want to have her offensive opinions called out in front of everyone, maybe she should stop being offensive.
I'm going to say, personally if she were my teacher the doc would be the least of her problems. She would not like me very much.
I hope you're safe tho, you and the other students she's hurt. You don't deserve to be treated like this
-🐺
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You, anon-sect, were going about your usual routine of going to the gym and hanging out with friends. After several hours in the hot sunshine, you decided to head home. Taking a seat on the train home, you heard the pleading cries of the transformed victims trapped on your feet. You had seriously abused them today, but they were just your socks and shoes, so you didn't care. Your feet were sweating like crazy, forcing both socks and shoes to absorb it all. As you wiggled your toes within them, you could tell the shoes didn't have long left before they were completely trashed.
Looking around the train car, you noticed a perfect target to TF into new ones just a few feet away from you. He was a muscular looking stud with a handsome face that you were dying to step on as an insole. The stud was also completely distracted by his phone, making it even easier to TF him without him even realizing that he's screwed. This made your cock very hard.
Sliding yourself up the row towards him, you subtly eyed him up, imagining how comfortable he was gonna be on your feet. You pulled out the TF device and set the program to “SHOES/PERMANENT”. After making sure no one was watching, you pulled the trigger on it and fired the device at the guy. There was a bright flash of light, and as it died down, Anon-sect, you expected to see your new shoes sitting on the seat in front of you, but somehow…someway, the muscular guy was still there, completely untouched by the transformation beam. This was more than confusing for you, you had done this so many times in the past. At this point, you had probably transformed hundreds of innocent lives, irreversibly reshaped into any object you deemed them to be. No one had ever resisted the effects of your device up till this point, it was outright impossible for this guy to still be human.
You pondered what might've gone wrong, looking over the device best you can without drawing too much attention. You were angry, no, Furious that he had survived your shot, so when he started chatting with you, it took everything in you to not blow up at him.
“Hey, did your little toy break? Aww, that sucks man…”, the guy across from you spoke up, sounding exactly like the dumb ‘Jock Bro’ he appeared to be. There was a hint of sympathy in his voice, which you had to hold your breath at to keep from laughing. You had just tried to turn him into your permanent footwear, and he was saddened by your perceived “broken toy”? It made you wonder, if you told him what you had planned on doing to him, would he apologize for failing to become your shoes? Man, this guy is such an easy target, it almost felt cruel…
“No, it's not broken. It's also not a toy, but if I told you what it really was, I'd have to, in a literal sense, put a foot in your mouth”, you snapped back at him, smirking slightly at your own sly word play and continued trying to suss out the fault in the device.
The guy had a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he seemed to catch on to something, “Uh…ohhh, like some kind of secret project? Aw, that's pretty cool man! I've actually got my own secret project goin’, wanna see!?”,
This guy was starting to annoy you, but not to seem suspicious, you looked up at him, faining curiously.
The guy looked overjoyed to see you interested in his so called “secret project”. He excitedly turned his phone towards you and showed you the image that was on the screen. “I snapped a pic of these awesome shoes that I want, am just waitin’ on them realizing they're supposed to be there”. Despite his obvious luke-warm IQ, it was hard not to be indeered to this guy. You were ready to write him off as a dumb meathead that would soon be imprisoned on your feet…until you actually looked at the picture on his phone. It showed a pair of white coloured High-Top sneakers, with red and black accents. You had to agree, they did look pretty awesome…however, the picture depicted the shoes on the floor of the train car, the exact same one you were in…then you realized what kind of phone this guy had…it was a TF phone.
You started to feel extremely lightheaded, your surroundings spinning rapidly around you. You looked down at your own TF device and your mistake was flashing right in your face. “Please Confirm Your Settings” was displayed on its screen. You had forgotten to press confirm, and without doing that, the device would never have fired…which meant that the bright flash of a TF beam didn't come from your device after all, but instead it came from the Muscular Jock Bro's phone!
Looking up at him in horror, you slid off your seat and landed with a thud on the floor right by the guy's nasty, beat-up gym sneakers.
“Yo, what you doin’ on the floor man…? Oh, wait! Are you tryna catch a whiff of ma feets? That's kinda weird Bro, my feet really stink, but, I guess it ain't hurtin’ no one…”, and with a confused, but friendly smile, the guy kicked off his sneakers and pressed his hot, stinky, sweat-soaked socked feet right against your face. “Oh, by the way, ma names Chad! I would ask for your name, but, I don't think shoes deserve names…”, despite retaining his air-headed bubbly himbo tone, the last line he spoke had a sinister edge to it, revealing that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
You had become completely paralyzed shortly after landing on the floor, so you could do nothing as the guy shoved his stinking, rancid feet in your face. Was this karma…? Was the universe torturing you like this as a form of revenge on behalf of all your former victims? This was the only explanation that made sense to you. How else could you have forgotten such a simple step like press confirm on your settings, you've done that a million times! All you could do was sniff, Chad's putrid, toxic foot stink no doubt speeding up the transformation process as you felt a strange sensation in your skin.
“Uh…hey Bro!”, the guy called down to you, pretending badly to sound concerned, “you don't look so good, man…it looks like you'returnin’ whit! Are ma feets too stinky for ya!? Aw, am so sorry, Man”, his tone was dripping with sarcasm, and even worse, you could spot a very visible bulge pressing against his sweats…he was enjoying this.
His feet were so rancid, but they were the least of your concerns. With pleading eyes, you looked up at him, begging, praying he would stop this…but the look of pleasure on his face told you that was never going to happen. As he gently stroked the sizable bulge in his pants, you felt your skin get tighter, squeezing out a few tears from your eyes…you didn't want this, you didn't want to be some guy's shoes! This guy was supposed to be your shoes!! As you felt a mix of fear and anger, your transformation seemed to accelerate, causing intense pain and discomfort as your body began to contort and reshape into its new form.
Staring down at you, the guy was now smirking, excited as he watched this happening to you. “Yo!!! Bro!!!! You're ma fuckin’ shoes now!!! Hahaha, pathetic loser!!!“, the guy eagerly watched as your horrific transformation was finalized, leaving you looking exactly like the picture on his phone.
Wasting no time, the guy pulled you onto his feet, your face instantly being squashed beneath his hot smelly foot. “Oh man, you feel so good on me, so comfortable!”, he remarked, pressing his foot down hard against your insole face.
This was Hell…not only were his feet fucking toxic, but the guy himself was a huge mound of muscle, weighing at least 400 pounds. However, your situation quickly changed from bad to worse when he pulled on the other shoe. From your experience with TFing people, you obviously knew the face became one of the insoles, but you never could figure out what formed the other insole…until now.
As Chad pulled on the other shoe, you could feel his sweaty toes sliding along your dick, before his heel settled down on top of your balls…this sensation made you want to cum so hard, but you couldn't, your cock was an insole. This orgasmic pleasure soon intensified as Chad played with the shoe on his foot, as if he knew your penis was now its insole. Pleasure turned to pain as there was no way to release the tension.
“Oh please…please let me cum…oh god it hurts!!! Just let me cum, please god let me cum!!!”, you mentally begged, screamed and cried, but to release came. You were locked in eternal orgasm for the rest of your life!
“Oh f-fuck…”, that was the last thought you had before his full weight crushed down on your privets. You were in agony, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
As for the muscular guy, he couldn't help but admire the quality of his new shoes! They felt high end, and super comfortable. Testing them out with a stroll up and down the train car, he found that the shoes would contract around his feet with each step, almost as if the shoes were giving his feet a massage as he walked. “Man, it was awesome of you to turn into my shoes! Am gonna wear you everyday Bro, especially to the gym! You're ma new favorite pair now!”, he excitedly informed you, mercilessly wiggling his big thick toes on you.
You screamed at the thought of that. Everyday!? There was no way you could mentally survive that! You began to cry and plead, begging to be turned human again, but it never came. You would live out the rest of your existence on his feet, smelling, tasting and feeling every second of it at 10000X the insanity of a normal human.
Chad kept his word and wore you every single day, and to torture you even further, he also never changed his sock either. Eventually, you would begin to rot on his feet, his rancid sweat dissolving your shoe bodies. First to go was your insole cock. Chad's sweat had quickly stained it a deep orange, and once that happened, the integrity of your insole cock rapidly deteriorated with searing, blinding pain. You thought your mind was going to burn up…in fact, you hoped it would…unfortunately it stayed intact, forcing you to feel you cock and balls rot away beneath Chad's foot. Next was your face, you could both smell and taste yourself rotting, but you never died. Chad simply threw you in a closet with the rest of his rotting sneakers, leaving you to your fate in pain and agony as shoes, forever!
This is a post requested by @anon-sect Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)
Go check out @anon-sect and enduldge in his amazing TF stories!!
#inanimate transformation#permanent tf#inanimate tf#shoe tf#thank you#jock feet#tf story#tf caption#clothing tf
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[ Soothe ] for Elucien 🤍
Elain slumped onto her bed, exhausted. It had been a hard day's work of gardening. Her muscles were completely sore. With little else to do in the Night Court, gardening had practically become her daily job. Not like they'd allow her to do anything else. Her request to scry in place of her sister had been denied. They'd rather an emotionally unstable Nesta try than her. It showed what little they thought of her. Bleh.
Elain rubbed her eyes. She been planning on going straight to bed, but how was she going to sleep with all of these sore muscles? So, she made an impulsive decision.
She was exhausted, but she got out of bed and went towards the wraiths' rooms. She knocked on Nuala's door, and within a few moments, her and Cerridwen had appeared beside her like apparitions.
Other people might find them creepy, but they didn't bother Elain very much. She was a literal Seer; she was the weirdo to most people. "Take me to Lucien's house," she said quietly. The wraiths tilted their heads curiously at her. Elain was no fool; she knew the wraiths had been set on her to spy on her, but at least she could befriend them and somewhat gain the advantage. Perhaps in time, their loyalty would be to her and not Rhysand. That would be hilarious. "Are you going to interrogate me, or are you going to do as I say?" Elain asked, a little bite in her voice this time. At her sharp tone, the wraiths linked their arms with hers and the three of them disappeared into the shadows. It wasn't quite like winnowing; no, it was far more uncomfortable. Like melting into the shadows before coming to be again.
"Don't wait up for me," Elain called back at the wraiths, watching them disappear. She walked towards the door to Lucien's house. The whorls of wood on the front were elegant, and Elain could not help but admire the beauty that surrounded everything that had to do with this man. You would never catch him lacking in style.
It was so goddamn attractive.
Before she could knock on the door, Lucien opened it for her. "Elain," he murmured, and Elain squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to control her visceral reaction to the low timbre of his voice. "Lucien," she got out. God, her voice was so breathy; she was doing a terrible job at controlling her instincts. He moved aside so that she could walk in.
"Why are you here." Lucien's voice was careful, restrained. Elain didn't fail to notice his hands flexing back and forth, like he was resisting the urge to grab her and do unspeakable things to her.
Elain blushed. She bit her lip, and Lucien's eyes focused on it. "Couldn't sleep."
"So you decided to sleep walk and somehow wound up here?" he drawled sarcastically.
Elain's spine straightened at his tone. "No, I decided to come here."
"Why? You had no problem avoiding me like the plague for the past several months." He stalked away, and Elain stormed after him. "I just thought-"
"You thought wrong, Elain," Lucien replied.
Elain snorted. "Feyre was right. You are an asshole."
Lucien whipped his head around to her, and Elain stumbled back a step at the expression on his face. His eyes glowed a brilliant deep amber as fire entered his body. The room heated up more with every second. His hands were trembling, fists clenched so hard the skin was paling around his knuckles. "Did Feyre ever tell you what I did for her?" he whispered.
Elain blinked. "N-no I don't think so."
Lucien laughed mirthlessly. "Figures. She always had a bit of a victim complex. Impossible for her to admit she's wrong in any scenario." He took a step towards Elain, who took another step back. "Did you expect me to rejoice at the half-starved animal who had murdered my friend taking his place? Even if it was for the sake of breaking the curse? How would you have felt, if I had killed Feyre and I'd replaced her in your house? Not so nice, hmm?"
Elain opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was hard to think of words when Lucien focused all of his relentless attention on her. She tried again. "No. Not nice." Such a lame response, but she had nothing else to say. Lucien snorted. "Either way, I warmed up to her in spite of everything. She seemed alright...for a feral human, at least. And Tamlin loved her, so when she showed up Under the Mountain, I swore an oath to protect her for him."
Elain shook her head. Feyre had never told her any of this. Lucien continued. "But then, Amarantha dragged me in front of Rhysand and threatened to have me killed. Feyre offered up her name in exchange for my life. Despite me nearly getting her killed a couple of times before that. True, I saved her a lot more, but..." Elain rolled her eyes at his addition, and Lucien took another step forward, "from that point onward, I wasn't just protecting her for Tamlin or Prythian. I was doing it for her."
Elain took another step back. Lucien smirked at her retreat, continuing his story. "She was forced to face this gigantic creature called the Middengard Wyrm. I called out the direction it was coming from, thus saving her life and nearly damning my own. Amarantha ultimately spared my life on the condition that Tamlin whip me instead. Twenty times."
Elain gasped as Lucien began unbuttoning his shirt. "What are you doing?" Elain asked breathlessly, unable to stop watching as Lucien slid his shirt off, turning his back to Elain. There were long, jagged scars going all across Lucien's back. Elain stepped forward to look at them more closely when Lucien shrugged his shirt back on. "Am I still the asshole, Elain?" he asked darkly, then he walked away. Elain nearly screamed in frustration. The urge to touch him, beg him to stay, was uncontrollable. But her legs were screaming again, and she sighed as she settled on the plush carpet in Lucien's living room. Her muscles were burning with lactic acid.
"Elain?" Lucien was by her side in an instant, hand on her shoulder. "Are you ok?" His tone was a far cry from what it had been a few moments ago, purely gentleness and concern in it. He cursed under his breath. "I'm so sorry, Elain, I had no idea-"
Elain laid her hand over his. "It's nothing life-threatening, Lucien," she assured him. "My muscles are just really sore."
Lucien blushed. "Well...I could, you know...?"
"Could what?" Elain asked.
Lucien muttered, "Icouldmassageyouifthatsnottooinappropriate."
"What's that?" Elain yelled, pretending not to understand.
"Oh, I know you heard me, lady," Lucien replied, a bit of a flirtatious note in his voice now. Elain smirked. "You may massage me." She sat up, offering her back to him. He placed his warm hands on her shoulders and began to rub them in circles.
Holy Mother, he was good at this; Elain didn't know how she was going to get through this, especially when his hands moved down her arms, and he turned her around, taking one of her legs in his big palms. "May I?" he asked softly.
Elain barely managed to whisper, "Yes." His hands began working their magic on her upper legs, and she bit back her moan. She really shouldn't be as insanely turned on by this as she was. It was only made worse by the fact that Lucien's body was completely tense, his scent revealing that he was having just as much difficulty maintaining control as she was. When his thumbs dug into her inner thighs, she couldn't control her gasp.
Lucien immediately pulled away. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his cheeks scarlet. "I'll take my leave, my lady." He jumped up, hastily bowing, before he began to walk away. Bastard! He dare work her up this much and then just leave???? Hell no. Elain stomped up to him, shouting, "Lucien! You come back here this instant!" Lucien turned back to her, his russet eye wide, his metal one whirring like crazy. How was he just so effortlessly handsome? It drove Elain mad. So, she did the logical thing.
She stood on her tip-toes, grabbed Lucien by the collar, and slammed her lips to his.
#sorry i escalated with this one#i just love them#they're so#jkndfjie#elucien#lucien vanserra#elain archeron#fanfic
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Hello, I'd like to ask you wdyt about TF 141 men separately have a crush on reader? Like them trying to impress reader/getting reader's attention but whenever reader's around suddenly they become awkward to the point it almost embarrass them (psst...reader's bit oblivious to their harbored feelings and that actually make it worse better)
telling my thoughts about them..
part 1 (simon) / part 2 (soap) / part 3 (gaz) / part 4 (price)
SIMON VERSION
simon was a serious and quiet man, introverted too. he would never have any love interest—he promised and reminded himself. but you ended up appearing in his life, a docile little thing on military. when he ends up finding himself looking at you, zoning out, he would drift his gaze to something.
a soldier with a high intellect, very intelligent, but very quiet. he can be aggressive, but he can be sarcastic too! he looks like he's never dated anyone, i assume he doesn't do well with romantic / intimate relationships, he would go more to the awkward side.
when you talked to him, he would just look with those brown eyes, analyzing your movements and conformity of your body language. behind that skull mask, his voice with his signature, chiseled british accent, just hummed or grunted when you asked something.
he would be better at expressing his feelings through actions than words, but he is a tough man!! he doesn't want to lose his place, after all, he wants to be better than his older brother—what simon promised. in reality, he just kept looking at you and responding occasionally when he wanted, making him awkward.
conclusion: very quiet and awkward, would caught himself admiring you but is kinda afraid of receiving neglect from his new love interest.
#marksmen 🍇#simon riley#cod mw2#cod mwii#call of duty#cod modern warfare#call of duty mw3#cod mw3#mw2#ghost mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#my conclusion on thissssssss
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Postal Dude NSFW Alphabet
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Was gonna work on my TF2 and Postal requests, but I've been sick and was in the ER cause of it. But depsite all of that, I'm still horrifically down bad for this stinky pissman. My need for this man cannot be contained. Halp
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A: Aftercare (What they're like after sex):
Admittingly, his aftercare kinda sucks. Just wipe ya off then pass out. It's just not something he's used to. You're gonna have to teach him how to do some proper aftercare. It'll take some time, but he'll get better at it with some time
B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of their and also their partners):
Now I'm putting my own (weird) biases here, Dude likes his hands. They're so long and spidery. Perfect to shove his fingers down your throat. He's such a long and gangly man.
Now his favorite body part on you would be your thighs. Thick thighs means a nice, fat ass and I can just tell that this man is an ass man. And also thigh highs?! The way they hug the thighs are there's that little thigh pudge at the top of the thigh highs. You know what I'm talking about. Dude lives for thick thighs. Choke them with your thighs, he'll die a happy man
C: Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically):
I'd like to think cums a lot. Please let me dream. Just picture him cumming in you so much that it spills out of you as more tries to fill in you. Maybe even creating a little tummy bulge.
But for taste wise, it is BITTER. Like it starts salty but gets bitter the more you taste it. So good luck with that. Man's good for stuffing ya, but the taste is one that will take a bit to get used to. Someone get this man on a better diet!
D: Dirty Secret (pretty self explanitory, a dirty secret of theirs):
I feel like he's secretly an exhibitionist. I just know that Dude would get off to people seeing him getting fucked. Hell, he'd probably let people run a train on him if given the opportunity. This man's a slut to the highest degree even though he gets no bitches
E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?):
I'd say he's got a decent amount of experience. Like, he definitely knows what he's doing. Could it be better? Yeah. Much of this man's potential has yet to be discovered
F: Favorite Position (This goes without saying):
Homie doesn't discriminate. Any position is a good position. You wanna ride him? Go for it. Want him to bend you over and pound the fuck out of you? He's already bending you over. He definitely loves being bent over, stuffed and fucked
G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.):
Has this man ever been serious? He's a chill boy. I don't really have much to say here. He's a goofy goober
H: Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpent match the drapes? etc.):
I'd say Dude's got a decent amount of hair. Definitely not hair, but not bare. And even then, it's light in color so it doesn't catch your attention at first. And he's kinda groomed. He'll keep up with it if asked
I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Romantic aspect):
Dude's not much of a romance person. But that doesn't mean he isn't trying. On special occasions, like anniversaries or your birthday, he'll put the effeort in. He'd be cheesy and break out the rose petals. How'd he get them? Don't worry about it. He's even broke out the candles as well, ignore the burn marks on his hands, his ass was not paying attention when lighting them and almost set the trailer on fire
J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanons):
He does jack off, kinda often, but it's just never enough for him. He's tried all sorts of things but finds much more satisfaction being able to fuck someone. He gets irritable when he doesn't get needs fufilled
K: Kinks (One or more of their kinks):
I'm doing it. I'm going there. I don't care what you people say. He's got a piss kink. (So does Sniper but he's not apart of this, fight me) He will piss on you and he will have you piss on him. He'd be gross and try to drink your piss. He doesn't care. I'm a piss kink Dude truther
Another major kink I'll throw in here is pegging. He loves it when his lady put the strap-on on, bends him over, and makes him her bitch. Pegging makes Dude the most adorable little sub ever. Just a begging and moaning mess. You know you love it, don't deny it
L: Location (Favorite places to do the do):
Anywhere and everywhere. Just say the words and he's ready. Nothing will stop this horny man. NOTHING
M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):
Your existence gets him going. You could be sitting around, reading a book or watching T.V. and that gets him hard. It's his inner simp showing. What really gets him going is seeing you wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. Especially when the shirt starts to ride up your thigh. It's like your teasing him without realizing
N: No (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs):
Now Dude is a pretty open guy, but of course he has limits. I'll just say that he's not into the really gross stuff. The only gross thing he likes is piss. Like, that's the only time you're gonna see this man at his most vile. Anything else gross and he'll start gagging and leaving
O: Oral (Preference is giving or recieving, skills, etc.):
Loves oral. Prefers to receive but will gladly give. Sit on his face. He's begging you to. But when you give him head, watch out cause if you don't stop him, he'll wanna fuck your face. He loves being able to stuff his cock down your throat
P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.):
Loves going fast and rough. He lives for it, especially when you mark him up during it. Rarely is slow and sensual. He'll be slow on thos rare intimate moments he has. But wither way, he will leave you a shaking, satisfied mess afterwards
Q: Quickie (Their opinion on quickies, how often, etc.):
Not the biggest fan but desperate times call for desperate measures. He tries to not partake in quickies often so when it does happen, he's so desperate to cum
R: Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks etc.):
Huge risk taker. The risk is what gets hims going. Always ready to take them. Bouns points if you're like him in that aspect. You two would be such an unstoppable force, for real for real
S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?):
He's got some pretty good stamina, especially when he's high on crack. He's practically insatiable. You two will be going at it for HOURS. Practically a whole day of sex so you better be prepared or you'll be a pile of dust afterwards. And yes, he will make fun of you for it.
T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):
Literally in the one scene in Brain Damaged when he's sitting on his couch, there's a fucking dildo on the floor. So obviously yes, he owns toys, and yes he uses them. And yes, he will use toys on you. Why wouldn't he? Using toys means extra fun, and Dude ain't gonna pass up such an opportunity to tease and overstimulate you
U: Unfair (How much do they like to tease?):
Such a teasing bastard, and a hypocrite. Loves to tease and make you beg, but can be stubborn at first when you try to same tactics on him. He knows how to press all the right buttons when teasing. He rightfully deserves to be treated back, but also a little more harsher for being such a little shit
V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds they make? etc.):
I'd say Dude isn't the loudest, he prefers to hear you rather then himself. But that can easily be changed with a little pegging. Remeber, he's a hoe, so he is fun to make a moaning, whiny mess, just begging for more
W: Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character):
If it isn't obvious by now, this man is bi/pan. You cannot look at this man and say he's straight. It's just such a bold face lie. Homie likes his men, women, enbys, trans people equally. All he wants is a good time. I'd say he has a slight preference for more feminine people. But now by saying that, I'm thinking of femboy Dude and I'm more than here for that
X: X-Ray (Let's see whats going on under those clothes):
Now please bear with me here, cause I unfortunately don't have male anatomy. I'd say he's about six inches, cut, head's this nice little rosy pink color and SENSITIVE
Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive):
Very high drive, constantly horny. He cannot be contained. Sometimes multiple rounds a day isn't enough for him. He understand that sometimes, you're not gonna be needy as him so he's used to having to take care of himself. Though he'd appreciate some help during these trying times
Z: Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards?):
Almost immediately after doing the do. That's probably why his aftercare sucks cause he's ready to pass the fuck out most of the time. Falls asleep like a man in the Victorian era dying from Influenza. He's practically clonked out like a dead man too. It's ridiculous and deserves to be bullied for it
#postal#postal dude#postal dude x reader#i seem to have a thing for tall lanky men that constantly piss#is that a good thing#probably not#i think this says a lot about me#and i don't think that's a good thing#oh well
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I’ve gotta work on the last pages of that Guy Vs Guy comic, but I’ve been lacking motivation! It’s been a lot of work ( I’ve…read so many GL comics to get stuff that’s not even on page yet, right ) and so much drawing OTL
#text post#I will not lie I also spend much time on each page and that probably makes me feel like…frustrated#This is the one thing I've been posting for folks to see and working hardest on to the least returns nd I KNOW TO DRAW TO SATISFIY MYSELF#But I'd like attention like any man would#A little bit of it.
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going over old fic notes and outlines and character talks with friends and it's always really funny when i get to the stuff i was developing early-mid 2019 where bill just literally kept kryptos around to rag on, and he genuinely just. did not like the man. like was just completely annoyed with his general existence. boy have things changed
#for anyone curious: i came to the conclusion that no amount of 'this guy sucks but he's fun to bully' would get bill to keep someone around#for like literal eons. bill gets bored of his toys too quickly. he'd break 'em. plus the fact that bill decided he was worth saving to begi#with. there was at first an element of 'i owe the guy' because [FIC SPOILERS] and a grudging 'if i had a gun to my head i'd say he was my#best friend i GUESS but do not tell him that' but no real genuine friendship or anything more#before realizing that with the specific story i was going to tell it just made the most sense to have these assholes still be like.#bad people for sure but to actually care about each other. it also just felt too easy to write bill off as someone whose cruelty is just#a lack of certain emotions. like that doesn't automatically make a bad person and a bad person doesn't automatically lack emotion#(there's a character that'll be introduced sometime soon who is aroace and doesn't make friends easily and she's lovely because...)#(idk man. i'm aroace and why shouldn't she be. a lack of affection doesn't make you bad and the ability to feel it doens't make you good)#so bill can and does love people-- even if actual vulnerability is near impossible to get from him-- and kryptos is included in that#it's just that he still sucks really bad and hurts and even kills people that he loves because again. bad person who has no idea how to#navigate relationships healthily because of his own baggage and the environment he grew up in#(also in canon he usually does not want to navigate relationships healthily because. again. he sucks!)#so the only lasting relationship he's ever had where he isn't trying to hurt someone is still just... messy as hell#(and to be fair kryptos is also a p. bad person by adulthood it's just that they're pretty young at this point in the fic)#(so there's less avenues to show that)#kryptos being desperate for any scrap of attention and bill providing the only attention he's ever gotten was always the vibe#but it really was much more of a 'bully and bulling victim who he lets hang around him because said victim'#'is like the only one willing to talk to him' dynamic which is... very much not the case anymore#as said in the tags of my fic. these awful shapes care about each other as best they can care about anyone#anyway sorry idk how much anyone really cares about these tag essays but theyre helpful for me to get my thought process like... down#and track how different the story used to be
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harry styles can be glad i bought tickets to his concert years ago and have not gotten a refund when i had the chance because this new album is truly not it
#fio.txt#the first one was nice hence the tickets#the second one was okay too#and this one? nah man i'm not a fan#tagging more as i listen to more things lmao i need to rant i my sister who i'm going with will probably like it#so ranting into the void it is until my friend has listened to it in like 3 days#literally every song sounds the same#i can't remember how many i've listened to#also the lyrics are bad when i pay attention to them#bro where's the energetic songs#i would listen to this when trying to fall asleep#thank fuck i'm not in any way invested in him lmao if i were more than a real casual fan i'd be so disappointed#nah man i'm gonna listen to rocky before the final 4 songs this is making me fall asleep fr#me as that gordon ramsay 'finally some good fucking food meme' as soon as rocky started ashjgdaksj#not to be me but omg seonghwa#so hawt#honestly though no matter how that concert will go in the end harry just does NOT have ateez stage presence#in no way ever#ok on we go#wow the first song that is kind of not slow but it only goes bayaba bayaba#at least it's a vibe?#bruh i swear this all sounds the same otherwise#oh some bass how nice#what the fuck kind of lyric even is 'side boob' ???????#nah he won't be able to sing those high notes live he's not that good of a singer i'm sorry#final thoughts: i'm very glad i for some reason ended up in this ateez rabbithole instead of ulting some basic hollywood dude#that keeps disappointing me with every new release#literally every song at eurovision this year with the exception of switzerland was more interesting to me than this#and as we all know quality is optional at eurovision#and there were so many fucking ballads this year ugh
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Try Me
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: suggestive
"Lan, c'mon..please don't go." You whined tightening your grip on Lando's shirt. "Stay with me"
"Baby, I want to, believe me, I do, but I told you I promised your brother to go out with him tonight. Why don't you come along with us?" He asked holding your cheeks between his hands and leaving a kiss on the tip of your nose.
"Because I want to spend some time alone with you. Why can't he go out with Charles or anyone else?"
"Charles is not feeling well, and besides, it will be suspicious if I turn him down for the second time today." He explained trying to get some sense into you, but you just decided to be a brat today because, well, you just felt like it. You wanted his attention. You needed his attention.
"Fine. Go with him then. I don't care." You pouted crossing your arms and turning your gaze away from him.
"Y/n.." He sighed turning your chin with his finger making you look at him. "I'm trying my best to spend as much time as possible with you here. If Carlos knew I spent the whole day with his sister in her hotel room I'd probably be a dead man right now. So if you want me alive, you gotta let me go now okay?"
Everything Lando said made sense. It's true that Carlos would haunt Lando for the rest of his life if he knew that he had been seeing his 5 years younger sister for over 6 months now. It's also true that Lando is a bit torn between the two of you. He doesn't want any trouble with his best friend, but he also doesn't want to even think about having to stop seeing you.
Lando and you were not in a relationship, well, not officially, you didn't call it a relationship because you were forbidden to him. You had been seeing each other for half a year and both of you knew that there was something more between you, more than just sex although you never put a label on it. The more time passed the more you liked each other and wanted to spend more time together so it got harder to keep it a secret.
"Give me a kiss" He said leaning down to your lips. You hesitate for a second, but give in rolling your eyes which Lando doesn't take very well. "No, no, don't do that."
You ignore him and head towards the bathroom not wanting to wait until he leaves your room. You just wanted to show your dissatisfaction with all your might.
"I'll talk to you later okay?"
"Whatever" You muttered before slamming the bathroom door shut.
Later that night, Lando was texting you just to check up on you, to see what you're doing, to see how you're spending your time without him and you decided to continue being a brat for the rest of the night. Because you just felt like it today.
'Just took a shower. Think I'm gonna go check up on Charles since he's not feeling well'
You replied smirking knowing that you mentioning Charles would completely push his buttons with you tonight. Ever since Carlos introduced you to them, both Charles and Lando have been trying to flirt with you. Only Charles has been doing it directly and Lando was more subtle with it. Lando was always more mysterious about it, that's probably the reason why you were attracted to him and not Charles.
So ever since he got his eyes on you, he hated that Charles was trying to get your attention. He hated that he was still doing it and yet he couldn't do anything about it because you two were a well kept secret.
'Oh really? Carlos and I saw him. He's just fine so you don't have to do that.'
He was replying back to your messages within seconds. You knew he was going crazy about it.
'Well, I'm gonna go check anyway'
Of course you weren't gonna go. You were all ready for bed, but since you didn't get what you wanted tonight, you decided to play with his head a little.
'Y/n..You have nothing to look for in his room'
'I mean it's not like I have a boyfriend if you really think about it. So..I don't think it would be inappropriate, no? '
'I can hear the attitude through the text. Fix it, before I fuck it out of you.'
His text sent shivers through your body. You threw your head back against your pillow sighing and reminiscing the way this morning the bed was squeaking beneath you two.
'I don't think you're gonna do anything about it'
'Oh, try me then'
#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic
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Sometimes the name doesn't matter
synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2
pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)
word count: 6.9k+ words
a/n: part 1 can be read here!
Capitano
Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.
The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.
Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?
Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.
"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."
"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."
"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."
"What do you imply?"
"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"
"You are right… Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"
Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.
"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"
"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."
"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."
"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.
"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.
"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."
The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..
"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."
The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.
Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.
"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.
The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.
Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.
Everyone gasps.
The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.
Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.
Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.
“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”
“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”
“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”
And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.
And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.
“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”
“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”
“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”
“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”
“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.
“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”
“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.
“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”
Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.
“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.
“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.
“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”
“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”
Kaveh
With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.
Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.
Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.
When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.
Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.
“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.
“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”
“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.
“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”
At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.
“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”
The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.
“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”
“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”
“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”
“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.
“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”
Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.
“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response.
“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”
Oh Archons, again?
There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…
But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.
“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”
“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”
“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”
The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.
“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.
Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.
"Kaveh's wife"
With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them.
“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”
The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.
Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions.
When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.
“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?
“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”
“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.
And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.
Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.
And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.
Tighnari
With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.
Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.
Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?
Well…
“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”
Ah yes, him.
Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea.
“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”
No, it absolutely would not!
Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.
And from day one it was a pain in the butt.
One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.
Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.
You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.
The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.
“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”
You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.
“...and?”
“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”
“Well, you don’t have a mate?”
It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.
“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”
You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.
“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”
You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.
“Get away from me!”
You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.
“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”
But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones.
Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.
Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.
However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.
Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?
“Herbad Y/n!”
…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.
“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.
“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”
Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.
“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”
All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.
“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.
“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.
The key word - almost.
Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.
“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.
“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”
“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”
“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”
“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”
“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”
The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.
“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”
With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.
“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”
Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.
“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.”
”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”
With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.
“As you wish, wife.”
Zhongli
"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."
To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.
It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.
Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.
In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.
You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.
Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.
When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.
“Does it bother you that much, my love?”
Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.
“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”
Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.
When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.
Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.
"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."
You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.
"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."
The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.
"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.
"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.
And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).
They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.
They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).
Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.
“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”
“But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.
“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”
“But how can you be so sure?”
“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#il capitano x reader#capitano x reader#capitano x fem!reader#kaveh x reader#kaveh x fem!reader#tighnari x reader#tighnari x fem!reader#zhongli x reader#zhongli x fem!reader#il capitano#capitano#kaveh#tighnari#zhongli#genshin impact fluff
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I can’t stop thinking about being a suspect in a case and being interviewed by Hotch 😭 like being so nervous and him taking it as like “??? are you even gonna try hiding it??” and you’re not gonna be honest and be like “i’m not nervous because i’m guilty i’m nervous BC YOURE A HOT OLD MAN” because this is a serious case and serious situation so it’s just Hotch trying to coax it out of you, you being all flustered looking suspicious but actually like needy for this man, and the team who caught on like “oh wait no. shes just attracted to him. why do we have hot people on the team?”
SSA Hotchner's scrutinizing gaze studies your weak posture, your fidgeting fingers, your spotty eye contact, and he muses, "You're not very good at controlling your body language."
"What?" You look at him, eyes wide and round and full of nerves. You've never been questioned before, not even by a low level security officer, much less an FBI Agent. You suppose that's making you nervous, yes, but what's really wringing you out is the fact that the one they sent to your interrogation room is just plain hot.
He's gorgeous, all sharp features that are always angled towards you, and dark eyes you'd expect of a criminal, not its captor. His suit is crisp and his voice is low; he's the pinnacle of professionalism and he's making you squirm with his undivided, discerning attention.
"You're nervous," He accuses, and you let out a soft huff in the back of your throat.
Who wouldn't be?
"You're fidgeting, you can't look me in the eyes, you lean away from me," He lists, leaning forwards in his chair to watch you repel like a magnet, your back pressing into the metal bars behind you as he proves his point.
"I'd think someone with the criminal expertise to commit six murders without witnesses would have a better handle on their outward appearance."
"I'd think so, too," You manage, not without stammering, "Agent- Agent Hotchner, I- I'm not-"
"You're not guilty? You're the closest thing we have to a suspect," He doesn't let your stuttering deter him, leaning ever-closer until you're flattened against the back of your chair and he's still advancing. He rises from his seat, inching closer and closer as he continues, "You miraculously discovered the body at an odd hour of the night when you had no business being at the scene of the crime, you called it in, you told the police you knew nothing, you're telling me you know nothing, but still," He's inches away from you now, and every nerve in your body is aflame with mortification at the very unhelpful fantasies rushing through your head as he pins you to the chair.
"-You insist on your innocence, but I don't think you're innocent at all. I think you're trying to toy with us, but we don't play games, you won't win. Understand?" His dark eyes bore into your own and you're painfully attracted to them, biting the inside of your cheek to stop from begging him to back away before you lose control and surge forward to kiss him. He refuses to blink, but you're doing it enough for the both of you, lashes rapidly fluttering as you try calming your pounding heart. He watches you for one, two, three, four, five seconds, expecting a hurried confession at any moment, but the door clicks open before you can stammer something humiliating.
"Hotch," It's a dark-haired woman, and god, does the FBI recruit people based on attractiveness? She's stunning and she turns her beautiful eyes on you in sympathy, "Back off, Hotch. She's innocent."
He narrows his eyes at her almost imperceptibly, turning away from you, "You found the unsub?"
"No," She admits, "But it's not her. Okay? I just know."
"You just- Agent Prentiss," Agent Hotchner stands straight, "That's not protocol."
"I know," She gushes, but she strides confidently through the room to ease you upright and out of your chair, "Just- let me handle this, okay? Come on, honey, we'll talk somewhere private."
Agent Hotchner lets her take you away, and he must trust her, even if he's watching her with narrowed eyes. Maybe this is some interrogation tactic, maybe the woman leading you by the shoulder through the precinct is the good cop, and he was the bad one.
She leads you past a cluster of people all leaning against desks or hunching over files, and a slim blonde woman shoots you a knowing smile. What she knows, you're not sure, but you wish so badly that it were comforting.
The woman walking with you leads you straight to the front door, taking your purse from where they'd confiscated it earlier and handing it back to you.
"You're free to go," She smiles at you, eyes nothing but kind, "I'll tell him you proved your innocence."
"But- what," Your fingers are almost too limp to keep your bag in their grip, "I don't understand-"
"I do," She grins, "He's handsome, I get it. He tends to forget that."
Your cheeks sear with flames that you wish would turn you to ash right then and there, so that you could be carried away on the breeze and not have to answer for your embarrassing instincts.
"Don't worry about it," She laughs, clearly sympathetic to your panic, "Trust me, you're not the first person that's squirmed in their seat under the intense gaze of Aaron Hotchner. He's a smart man, but never smart enough to figure out when someone likes him. You're free to go, honey," She repeats, reaching out to squeeze your arm, "And if you ever get dragged into an investigation again - which I hope you don't," She grins, "I wish you a very ugly investigator."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction
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it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.
the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.
it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."
then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."
then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."
that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.
"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."
but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.
'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.
if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.
if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.
"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.
for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-
the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."
eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.
"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.
three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.
it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.
he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.
"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"
there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.
"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"
eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.
"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."
eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.
he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.
"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."
"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.
"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."
eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?
but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.
and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.
eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.
"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.
it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.
there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."
"holy shit."
it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.
"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"
choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-
"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."
he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.
"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"
and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.
"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.
"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."
eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."
steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.
"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."
"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."
he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."
eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.
"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.
"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.
"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.
"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"
the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.
and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.
"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."
it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.
"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."
"...are you bribing me, harrington?"
"is it working?"
eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.
"of course it is."
the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.
"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"
it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.
he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.
"lucky indeed."
#wow this got SO much longer than intended why does this always happen why can i not just shut up#anyway i've been trying to figure out how to write this for a week so enjoy#steddie#steddie drabble#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#my writing#steddie headcanon#popstar steve harrington#rockstar eddie munson#modern au
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Text
*slams alarm clock against the wall*
Hissy Kitty
Part 4
Part 3
Alastor X Reader
Warnings ⚠
⚠ mentions of alcohol, all caps for shouting/yelling, our deer man in denial, cussing ⚠
"What just happened?", Alastor asked.
He looked around with furrowed eyebrows, confused.
"Are you ok? What was that?", you got his attention with your questions. "Why did you threaten Sir Pentious?"
Then he noticed how close you were, and the hold he had on you.
"Alastor?"
Ripping himself away, he took a large step back. Looking you up and down in a panic before taking a step into the shadows, disappearing from your sight.
You stood alone in the hallway, wondering what had caused such a reaction, both the anger and the panic. Then you walked to the lobby, seeing your brother working at the bar and you took a seat on a bar stool with a sigh.
"Never thought I'd see you come up to the bar like that.", Husk quirked a brow. "Need to talk to the bartender?", he asked, getting a cup ready.
"No.", you sighed and crossed your arms on the counter, resting your chin on them. "I need to talk to my older brother."
A drink was placed in front of you before there was another one next to it, then your brother walked out from behind the bar and sat on the bar stool on your right side.
"Alright kit, lay it on me.", he said and got his drink to take a sip.
"It's just been weird.", you started off. "I know Alastor is around me to bug you, we've established that.", you gestured to each other. "But the others think that he's trying to court me?"
"Pffffft-!", Husk sprayed out some of his drink.
"Which I know is not true, because that isn't what's been happening but Charlie and Pentious think that. And the weirdest part just happened a few minutes ago.", you continued.
Your brother coughed before wiping his mouth.
"What happened?"
"I was talking to Pentious and then all of a sudden Alastor appeared behind me.", you gestured as if someone was behind you now. "Pulled me away from my conversation with Sir Pentious and threatened to cook him."
Your brother was quiet, holding his cup as he thought before placing it down on the counter. He turned his body to face you and placed a hand on your shoulder.
"I need to know every detail of what happened, this doesn't sound normal but I can't be too sure.", he says. "That smiling fuck is not normal in general."
"Ok.", you nod and start over. "Sir Pentious had stopped me in the hallway.."
.
Alastor teleported somewhere far away from you within the hotel.
He couldn't go back to his tower, you were too close by and he needed a moment to think, to not worry about being found by you. Then he remembered that you held his face, the lingering feeling of your touch on his cheek made his chest tighten.
"Alastor? Is everything ok?", he heard the familiar voice of the Princess.
Somewhat surprised, the deer demon takes a good look around of where he is. He had teleported himself into Charlie and Vaggie's room.
"Apologies dear, I was in a bit of a rush to notice where I was going.", he says with a tight smile and fixes his coat. "I shall be off.", he turns to face the exit.
"Oh wait!", the Princess gets up from her seat and walks over. "Let them know that their clothes are finished. Niffty sure works fast."
Not paying any mind to it, he glances at the blonde.
"Who exactly?", he asks.
Then she says your name.
He stands still like a deer in headlights.
"Why would I let them know?", he turns to face her with brows furrowed slightly.
"Because you're always around them, I assumed that you were going to see them again.", Charlie explains.
"HA!", the Radio Demon laughs. "Do you think me a lovesick fool? Following them around like some dizzy-"
"Love?", she says confused. "I never said anything about love.."
He stares at the Princess for a moment, seeing her make the realization before quickly making his way towards the door.
"¡'m |€@v¡n& Ω¤￦."
"Al! What's so wrong with being-?", Charlie followed behind him.
"Being in love?", Alastor stopped walking to finished her question, turning around to face the Princess.
"Yes! Why is that a bad thing?", she continued.
So many reasons. He thought.
"It makes a person ￦€aK.", he replied instead. "It clouds one's thoughts, blinds, consumes, ruins.", he shook his head. "I could never allow myself to fall so low."
The Princess looked at him with a sad glare.
"I don't know if my word on love means anything but to me love gives strength, it inspires, encourages, protects-"
"IT DOES NOTHING TO HELP PROTECT SOMEONE!"
Feeling the ends of his smile start to turn down, he looked away and made his way to the door.
"I'm leaving.", he said, voice void of static, deciding to use the shadows to escape from the conversation quicker.
Teleporting to his Radio Tower, he sees the mess of glass was cleaned up.
"Good, now I can get to work and forget about this whole th-"
The trap door slammed open, causing Alastor to snap his head around to see who had dared to enter his tower uninvited.
"You've got five fucking seconds to explain yourself.", Husk growled as he stood in the room.
"What are you going on about?"
"You touched my sibling again but this time you were pissed off.", the cat demon stomped his way over to the deer demon. "Why would some other demon touching them piss you off so much, huh? I told you countless fucking times that they aren't yours."
Husk jabbed at his boss's chest with his claw.
Alastor grew taller, letting his anger show. "D¤ Ωo+ toμ©h m€ aΩd ¡ wiL| dθ a$ I pL€a$e."
The two glared at each other until the cat's eyes widened.
"Holy shit.", Husk lowered his hand.
"￦hAt?", the Radio Demon hissed, ready to teach the ex Overlord a lesson.
"You're in love with them.."
*glares at the morning sun* No.
~Seline, the person.
Part 5
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#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#x reader#the radio demon#gn reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#protective older brother Husk#hazbin hotel husk#fanfiction#hazbin fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin husk#hazbin charlie#charlie morningstar#mentions of sir pentious
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