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star-girl69 · 4 months

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So It Goes…

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: the one day chiron decides to switch up the capture the flag teams, and everyone knows you’re clarisse’s weakness, In A Good Way sequel!!

i changed my theme it’s me tho promise

a/n: protective clarisse the love of my life i love you i do i think we should get married actually anyways this one is sooooooo i got to explore a more casual side of clar’s and reader’s relationship in this (for like a min) i hope you all enjoy!!

So It Goes… - Taylor Swift

warnings: soft clarisse my love, protective clarisse we KNOW how i feel abt her…., also slightly possessive clarisse i think i love you too, again clarisse gets a bit too into capture the flag, clarisse picks reader up which i KNOW is not inclusive (im literally plus-sized idk what the hell am i doing) but it was so good i couldn’t resist, she has like super strength probs so i’ll just believe (she literally could not pick me up i need to stop being delusional), swearing, violence, kissing, a bit suggestive but nothing crazy, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse’s bed is one of your favorite places. You’ve spent so many nights here, wrapped up in her arms, feeling like no one could touch you. And you’ve spent secret days with her hands on your waist, yours in her hair, lips pressed together so tight it’s like you were each other’s oxygen.

You love Clarisse’s bed. And you know Clarisse loves her bed too, seeing as it’s a huge source of pride for her- it’s the best bunk in the cabin, and she gets a major kick over the fact that you sleep here just as much as you sleep in your own cabin.

You’re sitting down, watching Clarisse pace back and forth, her spear in her hand.

“Clarisse,” you say. She brought you here just fo freak out. Now she won’t sit down and let you help her, and she wont just freaking listen. “Clarisse, baby, what’s wrong? Can you at least put your spear down so you don’t accidentally kill somebody? If you kill me with that I’m gonna come back and kill you.”

She stops for a moment and leans her spear up against the wall. You let out a sigh.

“Now just sit down-”

She resumes her pacing.

As much as you love just being in Clarisse’s presence, as much as you know you’re her rock, the only thing that keeps her tethered in the storm she constantly fights through, you need her to let you help her.

“Clarisse!” you stand up, placing your hands on her shoulders. “You’re freaking me out, okay? What happened? I-I’m sure we can fix it, I mean…” you rub your hands up and down your arms, which you know she likes, her muscles are one of her biggest sources of pride.

She sits down, letting you stand in between her legs, her hands moving to hold your hips.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. She’s not very good at handling her emotions, but she’s getting better, and at least she’s able to recognize and apologize when her emotions are hurting other people. Well, you, at least. She breathes out. “Chiron decided to switch the teams.”

And now she had to work with the Athena cabin? The Gods know after the Ares and Athena cabins have captained opposing teams for years, Chiron pretends there’s not, but everyone knows there’s a deep rivalry. More than just friendly competition.

“The Demeter cabin will be on the red team.”

“Okay,” you say, squeezing her shoulders. You aren’t really close with anyone from the Demeter cabin, it doesn’t really bother you much.

“And… the Aphrodite cabin will be on the blue team.”

“Oh.”

You’ve never not been on Clarisse’s team for capture the flag. Not only does the entire red team’s tactic rest on you using your charmspeak to protect the flag, but what the hell are you supposed to do fighting against Clarisse?

She wraps her arms around your waist, flopping back onto her bed and bringing you down on top of her.

“I know it’s all Annabeth and Luke behind this. I’m sure that little smartass has made up some sick plan to make me go insane.”

You scoff, planting your hands behind her head on the bed. “You’re the one who can actually fight. I’m, like, so bad it’s not even funny, Clar.”

“You beat me all the time,” she frowns.

And it’s true, you spar with her at least 3 or 4 times a week, and you win most of the those times. But Clarisse moves slower, she doesn’t hit as hard, she anticipates your next move and doesn’t block it so you can land a hit.

“We both know you let me win.”

“I like seeing you smile,” she says, her own matching smile on her face.

“Okay, you big romantic.” You let your hands slip, laying your head against her chest and your arms flat around her head. “It’s not that big of a deal, Clar. I’m sure it’ll be fine, then Chiron’ll probably switch them back.”

“Annabeth convinced him to do it. She has some sort of plan, Y/N, she does.”

“You’ve mentioned,” you hum. “Stop stressing. Nothing we can do about it.”

“Fine,” she hisses.

She wraps her arms around your waist and throws you to the side so you yelp, now she’s climbing on top of you, laying her head on your chest.

“It’s going to be the worst game of capture the flag in history, you know. I hope you’re happy, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do without you. I mean, I guess I could move that group in the west side to just south of the flag, so that’ll be a bit more for them to get through. Oh, I’ll stick that one good archer on the ground- no, no that wouldn’t work, I need him in the trees. But I’ll move his position-”

—-

You walk to the woods together. When it’s time to split up, Clarisse grabs you by your armor and points her finger into your chest.

“Clar, what the hell are you doing-”

“Don’t do anything I would do.”

“Okay, Clarisse,” you smile, blinking once to avoid rolling your eyes at her ridiculousness.

She smirks, her arm squeezing your waist. She pecks you on the lips before pulling away completely.

“Done making out?” Jackie asks, her and Tyla suddenly appearing next to you.

“It was one kiss, Jacks. Are you sure we have the same Mom?”

“No, honestly.”

You fall into step with the two of them, laughing as you make your way through the woods and to the edge of the river.

Chiron makes his usual speech, the conch sounds, and everyone starts moving around.

Annabeth finds the three of you soon after. Tyla and Jackie fall away, following your other siblings. Annabeth always has this calculating look on her face, like she knows something you don’t, a true child of Athena. You have to admit, she really is one of the smartest people you know.

“Annabeth,” you smile. “I guess you want me by the flag?”

“No, I debated that, but I decided against it.”

She smirks and looks at you before spinning around, pointing to Luke and his team members who are always in charge of getting the flag.

“You’ll be with Luke.”

You frown. “You do realize I have absolutely no skill in battle, right, Annabeth?”

“Yeah, but skill doesn’t matter when you have power. Power over someone.”

“Oh, okay. Who do you want me to charmspeak-”

“Charmspeak whoever you come across, but that’s not what I’m talking about. You have power over Clarisse. I know she’s defending the flag today, right?”

She looks at you sharply.

You smile. “Oh, I really don’t know. But if you say so, sure.”

She starts walking, you follow her.

“Clarisse doesn’t talk strategy to you? I mean, I talk Luke’s ear off.”

“Oh, no, she does, I just don’t really retain any of it.”

She huffs a small sound of laughter.

“I know she’ll be there,” she affirms.

“If you say so!” you say, all sing song, Luke smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Y/N! How’s it feel to finally be on the winning team?”

“I love being on the red team, thanks for asking.”

“Ha. You’re so funny, are you sure you’re not a child of Apollo?”

“Too beautiful,” you glide your hands down your face. “I get it from my godly mother.”

“Luke, do you know what you’re doing?” Annabeth asks.

“Yes ma’am.”

She smiles and walks away, talking to more people while you can faintly hear Clarisse shouting at people. With the change in tactic, you know she’s been slightly stressed, but she won’t allow herself to feel anything other than confidence, outwardly.

She still walks tall. She still grips her spear in her hand a little to tight. She’s a bit too greedy with the things that are hers, she grabs on a bit too tight, but you know it’s just because she’s scared. You like it.

If this were a regular game, you would probably be walking next to Clarisse right now, or kissing her goodbye while you follow Matty and everyone else to go protect the flag.

When you and Clarisse first started dating, she was slow to be so affectionate, but the more of her walls you started breaking down the more you found a complicated teenage girl who felt unloved, and had a lot of love to give too.

The more confident she became in your private relationship, the more she wanted everyone to know. It was her fatal flaw, pride, hubris. She wanted everyone to know she was yours and your were hers. She wanted everyone to be jealous.

“I’m so glad we don’t have to wear those horrible earplugs today. They always make me worried. Someone could be shouting a few feet away and none of us would hear.”

“Stop gloating, Luke.”

“I’m just expressing my gratitude, Y/N, is that not allowed?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Oh, oh, I know. You’re sad, aren’t you?”

“Sad?” you snort.

“Yeah, sad. Sad you aren’t with Clarisse. You’re devastated, destroyed, wrecked.”

You put your hand on your sword. “Who are you… and what have you done with Luke Castellan? Luke doesn’t know that many words…”

He hits your shoulder. “Shut up, Y/N.”

—-

You’re walking through the woods.

Not sneaking around in stealth, not running, but walking.

You’ve come across a few of your former team members, but one of the blue team just tackles them and you tell them to turn around and count to 5,000.

For some reason, it’s worse than sitting by the rock, waiting for someone to make a play for the flag. At least at the rock you’re surrounded by all these people you know. You and Matty are usually talking, Marjorie sometimes joins, and you all have fun bullying Corey for that one time he didn’t see the blue team coming.

Luke’s voice drops to a whisper.

“Here’s your job. You can either, one, go make out with Clarisse in a corner, which shouldn’t be too hard-”

“Luke,” you hit his shoulder. He hisses.

“I’m joking, joking. Just keep her distracted, fight her, maybe pull your shirt down a bit? Oh, or I can just cut it so it’s a bit more revealing-”

“Luke, shut up or else I will make you.”

“It’s not a bad idea-”

“Luke!”

“Sh, sh,” he whispers. “Don’t be so loud, we’re almost to the flag. We’re going for stealth, okay?”

“Oh, really, I didn’t notice,” you deadpan. He looks around.

“Blue team, stealth mode, alright?”

Everyone nods. You roll your eyes. You miss the red team.

—-

After Luke gives you the ok, meaning the blue team has successfully surrounded the red team and the clearing, you take a step forward.

Annabeth was right. Clarisse is there.

It’s fitting. If you can’t be there, she would.

You look up at Corey, but he hasn’t noticed any of you yet. You frown, thinking about how he’s probably going to get beat up.

“Clarisse!” you shout. You watch everyone jump into defensive positions. She can’t see you yet, but she stares in the direction of your voice, her eyes squinting, smiling softly.

“Luke?” she shouts. “That you?”

You frown.

“What the hell?” you say, stepping forward. “You don’t recognize my voice? I thought that was really smart. Like, a cool way to reveal myself, I don’t know.”

You come into the clearing, sword by your side.

Clarisse’s smile drops.

“I-I- no, baby, I just wasn’t expecting Annabeth to send you here-”

“Do I really sound like Luke?”

“No,” she says, immediately. “You sound like an angel.

Matty laughs. Clarisse stabs his foot with the end of her spear. She smiles at you.

“Is Luke here though?” Marjorie asks, subtly trying to look through the trees.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you do,” Matty snorts.

“You’re going to tell me though right, baby?” Clar smiles, stepping closer until she’s right in front of you.

“Obviously not, you didn’t recognize me. I’m, like, really hurt by that Clarisse-”

“Gods, Clarisse,” Matty shouts at the sky, laughing. You didn’t recognize her, and now we’re all fucked!”

“Shut the fuck up, Matty,” she says over her shoulder. She looks at you, smiling again, her hand reaching out to touch your face. “I’ll let you do that thing you’ve always wanted to do.”

You smile, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll let me give you a makeover? Really?”

“Yes.” Her teeth grit, but she keeps smiling, her thumb rubbing your cheek.

“Hm, I don’t know,” you mutter, your eyes fixing on her spear when you suddenly reach forward, grabbing it from her hands and turning to run away.

The blue team emerges from the woods with war cries, swords start clashing, and it all happens so fast.

The plan was for you to grab her spear, make her chase you around the woods, and hopefully the blue team would be able to overpower the red team without her.

Instead, Clarisse kicks out her foot, tripping you. Then, she catches you and the spear in what you swear has to be a milisecond.

“Clarisse!” you shout, genuinely offended. She beat you so easily. It wasn’t even a fight. You didn’t even get the chance to run.

“Sorry, baby, it’s capture the flag!”

You about to start kicking like a wild animal when she suddenly lets you go. Luke is there, fighting her while you pick your sword up from the ground that fell in the commotion.

One of your team members dropped their helmet and you pick that up too.

You’re not that bad of a fighter, Clarisse just knows everything about you, you tell yourself. But your pride is slightly wounded and you want to prove to her, yourself, and everyone that you’re not just a weak Aphrodite kid or some poor thing that hangs off Clar’s arm.

You can hold your own.

You stick the helmet on and step into the fight. Someone groans and a sword comes wishing through the air, but you block it.

They swing again.

You block it.

You picked up things from Clarisse, and, besides, you weren’t just sparring for fun. She actually teaches you, better than the actual sword practice teacher if your biased opinion is to be trusted.

But you probably just feel that way because she rewards you with kisses.

It seems like you’re actually winning for a second, about to disarm him, when he seems to get fed up with fighting you and suddenly arcs hard over your head, making you lose your footing and letting him kick you.

You land on your back, groaning and trying to catch your breath.

“That was such a bitchy move,” you mumble. He leans over you, about to kick the sword out of your hand-

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Samuel.”

She holds her spear right under his throat, and he finally seems to look at your face instead of just your blue helmet.

“Shit. Sorry. Sorry, Clarisse, I’m sorry.”

She looks like she’s about to kill him but she just pushes him away.

“I was winning,” you groan. “But then he kicked me.”

She kicks him as he walks away.

You expect her to tug you up and start lecturing you but instead she leans down and throws you over her shoulder.

“Wha- Clarisse!”

“That’s enough for you today,” she says, patting the back of your thigh.

“Clarisse, I swear to Hades, let me down!”

“One second,” she mumbles.

When she places you down on the ground again, you’re leaning against a tree. She grabs your hand, frowning at something.

It’s the smallest cut, barely there, but Clarisse of course acts like it’s the end of the world.

“Does it hurt?”

Your eyes fix on Luke behind her, stalking slowly towards her turned back.

“No, Clar, it’s fine. Now I-”

“I think you should go the nurse.”

Your mouth drops open. “Clarisse, it’s a paper cut!”

“And if it gets infected? Go away, Luke, I can hear you.”

He locks eyes with you but ultimately turns around with a very scared and annoyed look on his face.

“Now do you see why I was all messed up? I knew this was going to happen. You were gonna get hurt, and it was going to be my fault.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not your fault, Clarisse-”

“But isn’t it? You would have been at the flag if Annabeth hadn’t known how much you mean to me. Instead, you were here. Instead, you were rushing off to go fight someone-”

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Clar!”

She presses her lips together.

“I can fight too. Not as good as you, but I can. I-I don’t want to be weak, I don’t want to rely on you for everything, it’s- it’s embarrassing.”

You didn’t even know you were feeling this way until you felt it. But it’s always been there, you guess. You always watch Clarisse spar and know she could never do anything like that with you. And you thought you were fine with it, and you are fine with having things that you like and things that she likes- but you don’t want to be so useless anymore.

She’s silent for a second.

“I- I get that. I do. But I just don’t know how to tell you I… I love you without showing it. I’m not good at saying it, you know that.”

“Clarisse,” you frown.

She puts her hands on your face.

“You are… the most precious thing in the world to me, Y/N. I really hope you know that.”

You wrap your arms around her neck, you can feel her heart thump from the fight.

“I know that, Clarisse. Of course I know that. You show me every day, I just- I just want to feel like my own person.”

She grips you tighter. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll teach you to fight. But you have to do it how I say, and you can’t go off and do this-”

You pull back so you can make sure this is real.

“Really?” you smile.

“You have to listen to me, Y/N, and do it slowly, okay-”

“Yes, yes, yes, okay, yes,” you breathe, planting your hands on your face before kissing her. It’s slow, it’s sweet, it’s exactly what you think of when you think of her. You think of the side that’s yours, the side that only you can see.

You break it, leaning down to pick up her spear.

The red team is losing the fight behind you.

“Ok, go win capture the flag. And I’ll stay here. My hand does kinda hurt,” you mumble.

She smiles and kisses your cheek. “Not just a paper cut, huh?”

“Can I still give you a makeover?” you ask as she turns away.

“Maybe!”

—-

y/n: what why did you not recognize me ☹️☹️

clarisse, genuinely terrified: i have no idea what the hell you are talking about please please please don’t take away kissing privileges please please please

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008

(pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you!!)

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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theeblackmedusa · 9 months

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he's cute

summary: "he cute. ain't right for you, though."

pairing: fontaine x black!fem!reader

warnings: 18+, language, smut, bit of a breeding kink, fontaine's kind of toxic if you squint, needles/sutures, descriptions of blood/violence, use of n word (idk why i'm warning about this but yuh), also there's a lot of AAVE in this so if you "correct" my grammar in some of the dialogue pls don't 💀

He knew he shouldn't be here, but he had nowhere else to go. He was hurt and tired and wanted you to fix him up because he always seemed to heal quicker when you did it.

Fontaine swallowed the lump in his throat as he raised his hand to knock on your green door. You were the only person in the world that made him nervous and he fucking hated it. It had been that way since you were kids. He could face any bully, stand up to any unfair teacher, but his mind went blank when it came to you.

He inhaled as deep as he could manage without sending a stabbing pain through his body before tapping his knuckles against the wood and then returned his hand to his stomach to hold his bleeding wound. A few long seconds passed before your voice came from inside.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," he grunted out weakly.

The locks clicked and Fontaine prepared himself for the wrath you would unleash when you opened the door and let your eyes fall on him. He did his best to stand up tall when the door began to creak open, but it was no use. He looked like shit either way.

"What the fuck, Fontaine?!"

Usually, you'd be concerned when Fontaine showed up on your doorstep bloody and bruised, but all you could feel at the moment was frustration. He'd told, no, promised you that the fighting would stop and that you wouldn't have to see him at his lowest anymore, but it was like he couldn't stay away.

"Got in a fight-"

"Really? I hadn't fucking noticed!"

Fontaine ignored you as you ranted about how he wasn't keeping his word when he was supposed to always keep his word to you. He couldn't focus on how upset you were because it would only get him upset with himself for making you that way.

He pushed past you as you cursed at him for going out and "being stupid" again.

"Isaac still ain't learned to keep his lil punks away from-"

"Always Isaac. Always Isaac! The way y'all fight, I'm surprised it ain't turned to fucking yet!" you laughed bitterly as he carefully lowered himself onto your couch, groaning all the way down.

"Why you all dressed up?" he questioned, switching the subject in hopes that it would make you stop fussing.

You looked good. Really good.

"I got a date, who should be here any second now, so you need to get out before he comes."

Fontaine scoffed at the fact that your pretty black dress and sexy red lips were for someone else. You should be his, but you can't be. Not with all the shit he gets himself into. As bad as he wants you, he can't put you in a position to be hurt just for being important to him.

"Date?"

"The fuck are you, a parrot? Yes, Taine! I have a date!"

You shut your door and stood in front of him, taking in the sight of him.

He looked truly pitiful, cuts and bruises forming on his dark skin. His shirt was soaked from the blood coming from his gash and he looked exhausted overall.

"What happened?" you sighed.

"Just a lil stabbin'. Nothin' I couldn't walk off-"

"Taine-"

"That's all it was," he told you.

"Did anybody-"

"Nah. Ain't nobody got killed," he assured, knowing your concerns.

It had always been a fear of yours. You hated all the violence and death, but more specifically, you hated the thought of that violence and death coming back to bite Fontaine in the ass one day. This neighborhood was full of hotheads and you'd hate for one of them to make Taine a target because somebody died at the hands of him or somebody he was associated with.

"You can't keep doing this, Taine,"

"I won't."

"Promise me."

He shook his head, pushing his hand deeper into his wound for pressure.

"You know I can't do that no more. I hate breakin' my promises to you."

Before you could respond, there was a knocking at your door and you rolled your eyes.

"That the date?" he asked, turning his head to the door.

"Probably," you huffed. "You and your bad fucking timing, Taine. Go hide in the back bedroom or something."

His eyebrows raised in amusement. This was becoming a game for him.

"Oh, you hidin' me and shit? Fuck nah, I been around the longest he gon' have to accept that," he argued. "Matter fact...come in!"

Your eyes widened at his antics and you searched for the closest object to throw at him, but your door was already opening to reveal your very confused date for the night.

"Fuck you," you mouthed to Fontaine before turning to the door.

Your date wasn't even looking at you. Instead, his eyes were planted on Fontaine, who, despite his battered and bruised state, had his grillz on full display as he smirked up at the other man.

"Kalen, hey," you finally greeted, an awkward attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

"This how you roll?" he asked, using a hand to gesture to the bloody man on your couch.

You shook your head, hoping to defend yourself.

"I know how this looks, but I promise to explain later! I-"

"You got other niggas on ya couch and you tryna explain shit? I'm done with yo ass. Thought you was tryna start somethin' for real, but you out here with other dudes."

Kalen was one of the resident hotheads, and arguing with him was pointless.

Fontaine quietly grumbled something that you refused to pay any mind to as you watched Kalen turn right back around and leave, slamming your front door behind him.

You inhaled deeply, Fontaine still mumbling under his breath about how you need to leave "bitch ass dudes like Kalen" alone.

If he wasn't one of the closest friends you had, you would have shut his ass up with a punch to the mouth by now. All you wanted was a night out with someone who could potentially get your mind off of a plain and simple fact: You and Fontaine were not and would never be together.

Every time you thought about it, your heart cracked, but it was something you had to accept. He didn't see you in the way he saw other women, so you'd have to settle for men that couldn't hold a candle to him.

"Could you shut the fuck up, Taine?" you snapped, walking to your bathroom to get the first aid kit.

The faster you patched him up, the faster he would get the fuck out of your house. Next time, you just wouldn't open the door for him. That would save you a hell of a lot of trouble.

"You always get with these bum niggas and get mad when they show that they crazy!" he yelled from the living room.

"He only got that way 'cuz you brought your bullshit to my house!" you shot back, pulling the bathroom drawer open with so much force that you were surprised you hadn't ripped it straight off. "I could have been having a peaceful night with him, but no! I'm here with no man babysitting your ass!"

He rolled his eyes at your sass and began struggling to shrug his jacket off as he awaited your return with the first aid kit. After his jacket, his bloodstained shirt followed. Now, he was shirtless and trying not to let his blood spill all over your couch, knowing that you'd stab him again if he messed it up.

Finally, you returned with a warm towel, a sewing kit, matches, and first aid. You had half the nerve to put it all away and kick his ass out on the street and let him fend for himself, but you cared too much. You always did and sometimes you hated it.

"Hold this," you ordered, shoving the matches and sewing kit into his lap before you took a seat next to him, making sure to plop down and make him jerk slightly.

"The fuck is wrong with you?! Be careful!" he gritted out, glaring at you sharply.

A sarcastic laugh escaped you.

"You aren't careful out there in the streets getting stabbed and shit. Why should I be careful with you now?"

He didn't respond, too exasperated with the night he'd had to entertain any of your taunting about it. He simply turned to you to allow a better angle for you to start cleaning him up.

You pulled out the towel and started dabbing the large, deep cut that spanned across his stomach. It almost made you feel sick. If it had been too deep, he wouldn't be here with you right now.

As you cleaned him, it was as if he could read your thoughts. He sensed your mind racing one hundred miles per second as you went through the "what ifs" of the night. He knew it was impossible to erase those thoughts for you. He was a drug dealer, after all. There was danger in the job, but he could help pull you out of them briefly.

"So, why the fuck you goin' on dates with these lames?" he questioned, exhaling in a vain attempt to fight the stinging of the towel on his injury.

You shrugged.

"Need someone to talk to, I guess," you responded shortly, not keen on telling him that these "lames" were unworthy attempts to make up for the fact that you didn't have him.

"You got me, Yo-Yo...Slick," he replied.

You shook your head. You and Yo-Yo were close, yes, but you and Slick? Not so much. It was like talking to a crazy uncle that should have been put in a retirement home a long time ago.

"I need...something else, Taine."

Dick, you thought.

You were starved of touch and you were getting desperate. You needed intimacy and you were searching for it in men that weren't even the one you wanted it from.

"Like?" he pressed as you put the towel down and began to burn the end of the sewing needle, preparing to stitch him up.

Fontaine was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what you were getting on about, but he liked to hear you say things. Sometimes you wondered if your embarrassment amused him.

You huffed, knowing that he wasn't going to drop it.

"I don't know, Taine. I just need something new. The vibrators ain't cutting it anymore...I need a man, sex," you admitted in frustration, warmth in your face as you tried to fight the embarrassment of your confession.

"You was finna fuck Kalen tonight?" he laughed, attempting to cover up the panic he felt inside at that revelation.

"Maybe not tonight, this time was just gon' be a date!"

Lord knows you won't take me on one, you thought, pushing the needle into his skin to start the sutures and making him hiss.

Fontaine's fingers curled into the arm of the couch as you stitched him up, eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to steady his breathing.

If he hadn't pissed you off so bad, you'd imagine if this is how he'd look if you were on your knees for him, taking him deep into your throat and making him lose his breath.

"He cute, but he ain't good for you," Fontaine rasped through gritted teeth, finally breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

"But you are?" you snapped.

"I ain't say all that," he defended.

"But that's what you meant."

Silence took over the room once more as you finished the stitches and examined your work. Once you assured that you'd fixed him up properly, you grabbed an alcohol wipe, ready to clean up the more minors scars.

"I just...Ion like him, (Y/N)."

You shook your head, gently wiping a scrape on his shoulder and sighing.

"Taine, if you didn't have every bitch in this damn neighborhood begging to sit on your dick, maybe I'd listen to what you have to say on this," you started. "But, I just wanna have fun and fuck around. Not worry about if somebody's good for me or not."

He couldn't fight it this time. Usually he could hold his tongue, keep back that confession that was constantly trying to rip through his body, but this time he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of you in somebody else's bed or kissing on someone that wasn't him. He wanted you, and he needed you to want him.

"We can't have fun and fuck around?" he asked you, grabbing your wrist and stopping your movements.

Your heart was beating in your chest rapidly. It was as if it was banging its fists against you in an aggressive plea for you to free it from your body.

You averted your eyes to anything else but him. They settled on the floral print in the curtains until he used his other hand to grip your chin and make you look at him.

"We can have a lotta fun, baby. What you say?" he suggested lowly, leaning into you so close that his lips were just barely touching yours.

You could have all of him if you wanted. You could've had him a very long time ago, but there was always that unspoken thing between the two of you. The elephant in the room that you two mutually decided was invisible.

"Taine," you breathed out.

"Let me show you how much fun we can have."

You weren't in control of yourself. It was as if his eyes had paralyzed you. Now, you were just his little rag doll as he lifted you in his lap and turned you so that your back was to him. You couldn't recall the exact moment it happened, but all you knew was that his hands were now groping your breasts over your dress as he attacked your neck with hot kisses.

"Them niggas out there can't make you feel the way I can, mama."

You shuddered at the nickname. "Baby" had been something he'd called you casually for as long as you could remember, but "mama"...that was new. And it made your stomach do a somersault as you imagined it.

You could picture yourself as a mama for his children. Waddling around plump and being pampered by him for carrying his baby. A soft moan escaped you at just the thought and he grinned into your neck.

"You like that? You wanna be a mama?" he asked, running his thumbs over your nipples until they hardened.

You almost broke your neck nodding in response.

"I can make that happen," he told you. "Fuck my kids into you. Make you mine for real."

An aching grew between your legs at that. You'd be trapped with him forever. No matter what went down between the two of you, you'd always be his, always have a piece of him. The thought shouldn't turn you on as much as it did, but you could feel your panties soaking from it.

"Take this off for me," he instructed softly.

You obeyed without question, standing up to slip out of the black dress. Seconds later, you were in nothing but the lacy black underwear you'd put on "just in case" you decided to let Kalen get somewhere.

Fontaine frowned at the panties and reached forward gripping them at the band before tearing the fabric. If he hadn't been spewing that shit about making you a mommy, you would have been pissed. Those were expensive.

You were completely bare in front of him and a little self conscious, but Fontaine was staring at you like you were the lottery and he'd just won. You were perfect, dark skin glowing in the moonlight that shone through the curtains, thighs that he couldn't wait to get between. How on Earth could he have resisted you for so long?

"Shit, mama. Don't think I can wait to get inside you."

You couldn't wait either. You'd been needing him.

"Then take that shit off," you told him with a sickeningly sweet smile, nodding to his pants and belt.

He only chuckled low in response and did as told, unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side somewhere. Next, he lifted his hips, wincing as he lowered his pants down to his ankles.

Before he could start on his underwear, you were lowering yourself to your knees in front of him and pressing your cheek against his thigh. He shivered at the feeling of your warm breath.

After what felt like forever, you lifted your head, pressing a kiss to each of his thighs before pressing one to his hard cock over his underwear.

Fontaine sighed as you brushed your lips against him, teasing him mercilessly.

"Cut that shit out," he warned, eyeing you dangerously.

You smiled before pressing another kiss to the tip and bringing your hands up to the waistband before curling your fingers underneath.

"So bossy," you sighed, pulling his underwear down and letting them fall with his pants.

"Yeah, the boss say get ya pretty ass up here and take a seat."

Your core throbbed at the demand and you raised yourself up to straddle him, fingers gripping his cock and aligning him with your entrance.

Fontaine captured your lips in his, getting a taste of you before he took you. There was no going back. You both knew it.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him, both of you groaning from the sensation. The stretch stung in the best way as you tried to accommodate his size. You had to sit still to adjust, forehead resting against his until you got the courage to move.

Your pace was slow at first, still adjusting to the fullness of him inside of you, but soon, your speed increased, hips rolling against his as you rode him.

Fontaine wasted no time getting his hands back on your tits, massaging one while he worked his mouth on the other. He was addicted to them, watching them bounce as you skillfully worked his cock.

Eventually, your arms found their way around his neck as you leaned on him for support, ass bouncing as you fucked him. Fontaine cursed, letting his hands fall to your bottom to spread your cheeks more.

If the stab wound didn't kill him, you sure fucking would. He raised his hand and brought it back down, striking your ass and revving you on. He'd keep the desperate whimper you let out at the blow in mind.

"Yeah, that's it. Twerk that pretty ass on my dick, baby."

Your ass slapped against his thighs as you rode him, desperate to reach your high. You were so close. You began to feel weak, and he could tell as your pace slowed down.

"I got it, baby. I got it."

He wrapped his arms around you, stilling you against his chest as he began thrusting his hips into you, the tip of his cock hitting a delicious spot inside you that made you want to scream.

You could feel your orgasm coming like a tsunami ready to crash into you. All that was escaping you were incoherent noises as Fontaine fucked you stupid.

"Tight pussy squeezin' me," he grunted, words becoming slurred as he approached his own climax. "Let that shit out for me, mama."

As if you were hypnotized, your body responded, orgasm washing over you as your walls contracted around him, bringing him to his release as well.

Fontaine spilled into you, warm cum coating your walls as you went limp against him. His hips slowed before stopping completely and he let out a long exhale as he tried to recollect his thought.

"You have fun, baby?" he finally asked when he caught his breath.

If you had the energy, you'd slap the hell out of his cocky ass, but he'd just fucked you into exhaustion and his cum was steady leaking out of you, making a mess all over your inner thighs, so you went with the next best alternative.

"Shut the fuck up or I'm taking them damn stitches out."

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

let me know if you'd like to be added to either a john boyega or teyonah parris taglist bc i'm about to go crazy with them

tags: @wakandas-vibranium

#fontaine #fontaine x reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine x black reader #they cloned tyrone #john boyega #fanfiction #fanfic #black writer #theeblackmedusa🐍🐍

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scarletta-ruan · 1 year

Note

helloo, how are you? hope you're doing good! could you do a scenario with sigma, nikolai, fyodor and jouno where reader haves a mental breakdown in front of them??? you can choose the motive!

anyways, take care! i love requesting here, you're so kind and your writing is perfect 😭😭😭

SIGMA, NIKOLAI, FYODOR AND JOUNO WITH HIS SOMEONE HAS MENTAL BREAKDOWN

WARNING: OOC, mention of suicidal thought, reader is trying to against the mental breakdown, character is going to comfort them, soft!character

TYPE: Scenario

PAIRING: Sigma || Nikolai Gogol || Fyodor Dostoevsky || Saigiku Jouno x fem!reader

WORDCOUNTS: 0.9+ words

NOTES: Oh, and you too are also precious since you love putting request here. I hope that I would have more and more works for you to enjoy in the future. And your request is finally here.

1. Sigma

Sigma paid his attention to you when he heard you let out a long sigh again, just a few hours had passed and you gave him some signs that you weren’t in a good mood. This did hurt his heart for a bit, because he couldn’t stand your sadness. That was when Sigma approached the couch where you were sitting. Like normal, you just leaned on his shoulder and let out another sigh. Sigma wasn’t feeling good now, his mind came up with lots of questions when you showed off this side of yours.

“Is there anything… okay to you?”

“I’m just… not feeling good, you know.”

You chuckled bitterly, and when your eyes faced him Sigma saw a gleam of darkness was hiding deep in your eyes. So dark, so alone, even so… empty. Then again, you buried your face into your palms and groaned.

“Everythings is just too much for me. And I… am too tired for everything. I think I should-”

I think I should die. You couldn’t say those words out loud even if you wanted to, but when somebody faced their loved one they wouldn’t have any courage to show that person the weakness they had been carrying in their heart. Suddenly, you felt someone’s warmth surrounding your body. When you lifted your head up, Sigma slowly pulled you closer to him, he let your ear close to his heart.

So gentle, so warm, so precious, you thought all of this was too much, Sigma was always there when you needed some help. His arms around you felt more tight, then he whispered.

“Don’t… Don’t say that. It is too much for you, right? Then, will you take a breath in my arms?”

The heartbeat resounded in your ears just like a song, gentle and full of worry. You felt like yourself just like a small child weaving for their parents' love. He just soothed you down by letting you lean on him like this, he was too precious for you now.

2. Nikolai Gogol

You were sitting alone in the empty room. How many times did you lift your head up, looked around then buried it again? You didn’t get it at all, being mental breakdown stole away almost all the happiness in your life. You heard a rustling sound resounding near you, and as you lifted your head one more time, you saw a hand appear from the portal.

It was waving at you like it wanted to say hello. A moment later it pulled out a bunch of flowers and you heard someone was giggling at the door. There stood a young man with white hair, his mismatched beautiful eyes looked at you while still giggling.

He then approached you who were sitting alone in the corner of the room a moment ago. He picked you up with his arms, when you were surprised he put a lot of kisses on your face. You shyly asked.

“W-What’s wrong, Kolya?”

“Huh, nothing. I just saw you were sad a moment ago when I entered the house, so… I thought you might be happy again when I kiss you.”

Nikolai replied without any hesitation. When you were lost in his mismatched eyes, Nikolai’s chuckles pulled you back to reality. And he quickly escaped the room with you in his arms, it seemed like he was going to pull you in another surprise just to cheer you up.

3. Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor had been paying attention to the figure which was sitting on the couch an hour ago, he had no idea what you were doing now. But through the way you acted, he might guess you were having a bad time. He slowly put the tea pot and some cups of tea on the tray, by that way he could easily bring it up to you.

By the time Fyodor put the tray on the table in front of the couch, he finally saw your face. Eyes were full of tears and your hands were trying to wipe it all away but when you saw a pair of violet eyes were looking at you. You hid your face away from him, Fyodor let out a long sigh when he saw this.

A moment later, you felt his cold slender arms wrapped around your body. Fyodor was trying to hug you tightly in his arms.

“Wh-What-”

“Sh, just keep quiet. Rest, my dear. Just rest.”

He said, his other hand gently patted your back like he was comforting a child. You then naturally leaned on his touch, when you closed your eyes, Fyodor was humming a song beside your ears.

4. Saigiku Jouno

“There, do you want something else?”

Jouno said as he put the cup down on the table in front of your eyes. He was always gentle like this, though his eyes weren't able to see your face, but still himself was sharp enough to know what you were needing.

And since he was sharp enough to know about others' feelings through their heartbeat, Jouno always got his way to know that you were alright or not. He already knew that you were too tired and in a bad mood.

“I had just made you some hot cocoa, it may help you to feel better.”

You slowly picked up the cup on the table and took a sip. The sweetness of the drink went through your throat, the warmth made you feel better than just an hour ago.

“Is it good to help you feel better?”

Jouno asked again, this man he knew it clear like the back of his hand but still he always asked. You smiled at him and replied.

“Much better than now, Sai.”

He also gave you a familiar smile as he put a kiss on your forehead then hugged you tightly and said.

“Yeah, just don't push yourself too much next time. Remember that I still got you, okay?”

#bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #bsd x you #sigma x you #sigma x reader #nikolai gogol x you #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #jouno x you #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x reader

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cultofdixon · 11 months

Text

It Should’ve Been Me

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • They/Them Pronouns • You have always seen the archer as the father you’ve always wanted, and got eventually. But you didn’t know he saw you as his kid until both of you thought your time has run out • ANGST/SFW • TW: Gun Violence / Canon Violence [Saviors Arc]

Requested by: Anon

One thing for certain

You can mess with Daryl Dixon all you want. But the second you lay hands on his kid?

Better start digging your grave, baby.

Daryl was taken by the Saviors after the line up. He had lost some parts of his family that night and every fiber of his being thought it was his fault. But no one could’ve seen that coming…no one could’ve stopped a terrible man like that in their situation.

At least they’re safe Daryl thought on the drive to this place called the Sanctuary.

But when Rick returned to Alexandria without Daryl, how was he going to tell Y/N that someone important to them was just taken by this monster asking for half of their supplies? Carl knew his dad was going to sugarcoat it so he did what he thought was right.

“You’re lying”

“I’m not Y/N. They took Daryl. This bastard killed Glenn and Abraham right in front of us…”

The tears threatened to spill from the teenager’s eyes as they took a step back from Carl when he tried to hug them.

“Is Maggie—-“

“She’s okay…she’s at the hilltop. But Y/N I-I’m sorry”

“Nah…” Y/N continued to step away from the young grimes as they clenched their fists. “I’m not letting this fucking bastard hurt my da—-“ they cut themselves off shutting their eyes tight causing the tears to spill and Carl to grow more worried. “I’m done running Carl”

I’m done running from these fucking bastards.

________

The group settled in the prison and we’re going to defend their home from this asshole threatening to take it from them. Daryl started his return to the prison after having to put down his walker brother…guess he did some good in his life, but at what cost?

He heard sobbing on the walk back and didn’t think much of it at first until he heard struggle.

“Let me go!”

“You can’t run away from the community that gave a spoiled brat like yourself shelter!”

“You’re hurting me!” They shouted and that was enough for the archer to make himself present taking down the Woodbury guard that was familiar to him from his time in the ring days back.

Daryl didn’t hesitate to kill the guy and that action brought a bit of fear to the teen he saved.

“Sorry. Just.” Daryl didn’t know how to sugarcoat what just happened as he kept a respectable distance from them. “Yer safe now…But I ain’t letting yea stay out here”

“Y-You…you were the guy from…f-from that night in the ring”

“Right…and you are?”

“Nobody…”

“Yer somebody. But given the situation I ended for yea, you’re not really apart of them” Daryl states watching them nod confirming that they aren’t a threat. Hell. Given by the fear and injures on their person, they weren’t going to hurt Daryl or anybody. “I have a community. Or starting to become one…we can keep yea safe. As long as you don’t turn on us”

“H-H-How do I know you’re not g-gonna hurt me”

“I just killed a guy that was hurting you. I think that’s proof enough…for now” Daryl extends his hand toward them as they hesitantly accepted it. “The name is Daryl”

“Y/N…”

________

The two devised a plan for when Negan, the big boss man, came to collect half of Alexandria’s sources…that they would sneak on his truck and not only take out Negan in his place called the Sanctuary but also retrieve Daryl in the process.

But this was a new threat

with unpredictable actions.

“We stopped moving”

“One of us should check it out”

“You two are kids” Jesus scoffs. “You shouldn’t have done this because what would your dads think?”

Y/N wanted to say their parents were dead but deep down the reality of it was Daryl is their dad now. He stepped up when Y/N really needed it and life continued on. But the anxious look that glued to their expression thinking that they will be losing another parent to this madman with a bat, didn’t go unnoticed by Carl.

“Their fucking dad is who we are saving, besides if we go at it at the source? We’ll get shit done sooner rather than later” Carl whisper snaps at Jesus watching him hold his hands up in surrender.

When the three reached the sanctuary, Jesus planned to get off at the right window—-said window closed shut on both him and Y/N when Carl picked up the gun he brought, stepping out and making himself known to the Saviors that met the other end of his automatic.

“You stay here” Jesus tells Y/N watching them nod as he covers them in case someone decided to enter the truck and investigate further. But that never happened. Carl was detained by those still standing.

Once the coast was actually clear, Jesus gestured for Y/N to come out and decided to help them get Daryl out of the prison when his original plan was to find the Sanctuary.

“What if he’s de—-“

“What we don’t know is what we know. We don’t know if he’s alive or dead, so we can still be hopefully.”

“Jesus fucking Christ everybody” Y/N scoffs slightly annoyed by that as they started to approach the back door before quickly hiding behind the rack of bikes. “I just want…my dad.” they told themselves waiting for anyone to come out.

And it felt as if that was a cue for Daryl to step out of the Sanctuary. He quickly sprinted toward the bikes and flinched when he heard the rapid movements of their feet.

Y/N quickly made their presence known to Daryl and that’s what startled them most.

“Y/N” He breathed out a breath of relief watching their smile shine out. Something that kept him going while imprisoned.

“Da—-“

BANG

His relieved expression fallen when Y/N felt their side after the sound rang through to notice the blood dripping from their finger tips.

“Shit hurts…dad” and then they passed out.

Daryl felt frozen in place and the Savior noticed his presence and the pipe he had in his grasp. The grip the archer had on his weapon of choice, his rage could’ve made him snap it in half.

But something else snapped.

The archer didn’t let the Savior live and his actions is what lead to Jesus coming out of his position but instead of stopping Daryl…he ran straight to Y/N and addressed their injury the best he could in the moment. Before his words finally got through to Daryl.

“Y/N’s bleeding pretty bad but there’s a pulse. We need to go now!”

“I’ll Hotwire a car” He states lifting from his knelt position and following Jesus to a nearby vehicle that wouldn’t be missed—entirely—to get them out of there and back to the Hilltop.

________

“Hold it steady” Daryl whispers to Y/N as they held his crossbow securely.

They took aim and a deep breath…before finally pulling the trigger and landing the bullseye on the target he made for them.

“Great job kid”

“Yes!” Y/N yells happily aiming and shooting the cross bow up.

Both of them quickly looked at each other and Daryl didn’t hesitate to grab them quickly moving out of the radius the arrow could fall to.

________

The small group from Alexandria after Negan paid a visit to return what was there, Carl, had arrived to Hilltop and Maggie let them in with open arms hugging the retired sheriff immediately.

Carl quickly took notice of Daryl and his stressed expression accompanied with dried tears. His anxiety quickly made him run past the archer and toward the medical trailer.

The young grimes’ action didn’t go unnoticed as Rick approaches Daryl relieved that he was okay and now gaining them same sense of worry when his kid didn’t make their presence known along side him.

“How are they doing?” Rick asks after pulling away from the hug with Daryl.

“They lost a lot of blood. But that’s not a big issue” Daryl crosses his arms adjusting a bit given he had a bandage on the part where he gave blood. Dr. Carson took a pint from the archer when he told him he’s o negative and gave it to his kid. “They haven’t woken up”

“They will. They’ll pull through” Rick reassures his brother even if his mind was running a 5k about the incident.

After discussing more of a plan against the Saviors with Maggie and Jesus, Daryl entered the infirmary trailer finding Carl and Enid on either side of Y/N’s unconscious form.

“Your dad is goin’ to this Kingdom place. See if they are willing to join the fight”

“I should probably go with him…” Carl frowns turning to Y/N once more before getting up and leaving.

Enid watches him go before turning to Daryl and seriously, the man radiates his stress that it makes others stress and bring up their own suspicions of what might happen.

“They’ll pay, Daryl”

“They fucking will” He hissed slightly as Enid left on that note to check on Maggie.

Daryl returned to his spot right beside Y/N carefully taking their hand into his, feeling how cold they were…making him anxiously check their pulse before coming to the conclusion it’s just that they were cold.

“This world keeps takin’ from us, kiddo. You can’t let it take yea too…please don’t let it”

________

“You doing alright?” Daryl frowns sitting on the porch steps beside Y/N who hadn’t turned in for the night and it was dangerously close to becoming morning.

“Yeah. Or I don’t know…best that I could” They frown bringing their attention back to their hands. “I don’t trust it here…”

“Neither do I”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…But I promise to keep yea safe” Daryl reassures wrapping his arm around his kid’s shoulders as they instinctively leaned against him.

“You really promise?”

“I do”

________

You know I do

“Daryl!” Enid barges into the infirmary. “You need to hide. The saviors are here and they can’t find you”

Daryl nods quickly rising to his feet and trying to think fast enough to bring Y/N with him or to cover them up like they were dead. But maybe they’d think they were hiding under the blanket—or that he’ll aggravate the pain if he moved them.

Then Enid’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Go! Go to the pantry and I’ll take care of this” Enid states carrying bloodied sheets. The same sheets were Y/N’s when they first arrived to hilltop. So they were dried but it was enough for Enid to flip it so the main blood patch would be by their head. To show they finished the job before they could shift.

Maggie and Daryl hid in the pantry underneath the main house of Hilltop until the Saviors left. The time alone lead to Daryl stating how it was his fault for Glenn’s death and even if Maggie did her best to tell him it wasn’t, anything could’ve happened. He started to sob even harder.

“It’s my fault if they die”

“Daryl…”

“I shouldn’t…shouldn’t have tried to take the guy out…then Glenn will be here, and Y/N wouldn’t have had the thought of coming to get me…” he kept his gaze toward the ground trying to calm himself and not thrash when Maggie brought her arms around him. “They’re not gonna make it…”

“They will Daryl, and the saviors will pay for that they did. They’ll fucking pay”

Once the Saviors left, Daryl went back to the infirmary trailer to make sure they didn’t mess with Y/N in any way. But his anxiety skyrocketed when their body wasn’t there.

“Fuck. They took them. They took my kid. THOSE FUCKERS” He snaps right before he heard the sobbing. But it wasn’t coming from inside the trailer.

The archer stepped out and it was a bit louder compared to inside. He slowly approaches the crying until he found the source.

Y/N…oh god. Oh my god. Daryl frowns feeling the tears return on himself as he approaches their curled up form kneeling before them. “Y/N…you’re okay”

“You’re not real…I’m dead. This isn’t real” They continued to sob as their body started to shake.

“Y/N, I’m here…I’m actually here” Daryl frowns resting his hands on their face as they immediately wrapped their arms around him just from the touch to snap them back. “See I would’ve pinched yea but you just got shot”

“I thought I lost you dad…”

“‘M right here kiddo”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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criminalskies · 8 months

Note

Rome ugh helpppp! I’m dying over seeing these young TG pics and they’re making me think of fratboy!Hotch but also I’m in the mood for hotch angst 😅

Like imagine Aaron and reader going to the same boarding school and they def had a thing with each other but he started dating someone else because he chickened out/didn’t think he had a shot with reader? But what really sucked is that he and reader had a falling out bc of a rumor Hotch’s gf at the time started since she was jealous of reader? And they never talk the rest of boarding school 🥺

Thennnnn they start college at GWU and reader’s friend takes them to a frat party since friend’s significant other is a member of said frat where they see Aaron as frat pres! And all the memories come flooding back of the man they loved 😭 but then reader tries to escape and oh no, they’re spotted by AARON who stops them from leaving?

Then they have a brief convo but reader ends up crying and running away and our poor boy is🥲

So then since the incident, reader’s friend and Hotch are in cahoots to try to get reader and Aaron to FINALLY get together and everything’s not working!! But one day reader and friend walk to a spot special to reader and surprise surprise AARON is there all nervous and shy with a cute picnic with all the fancy fairy lights and readers food! And reader tries to stay mad at him but then our boy starts crying and says how sorry he is and how much he never stopped loving reader. Then they have a mature adult conversation, kiss and FNALLY get together 😊

Sorry if that was long, my Hotch brain goes wild sometimes lol

fratboy!hotch honestly runs my mind 24/7 tbh because when hotch was even a little bit young and wild and free there would be nothing and i mean nothing stopping me from falling head over heels for him.

I headcanon hotch as having had a fling or two at boarding school, in my mind this was when he explored his more bicurious side but I can basically just see him falling for somebody at boarding school because what the hell else is there to do once your homework is all done?? But omg poor reader :(((((( having him be too much of a baby to pursue you, so you two stay friends but then he lets some stupid girlfriend ruin his connection with his favourite person bc he wasn't brave enough to stand up for you the way you deserved!

So then, like all high school crushes and squashed friendships, the two of you drift apart, finding your own circles with whom you feel involved, but not seen the way your person used to see you. Reader knows no one will ever understand them like Aaron did, when he was theirs. :( and vice versa. I just know that as Aaron grows as a person and matures socially he realises he should have defended you with every bone in his body. He should never have let old girlfriends he didn't even really love ruin his relationship with you, the one real person he ever met in high school. He misses you now but he knows he ruined his chances and now you don't really want to hear from him, he doesn't even think he deserves your forgiveness. Deep down he knew you had feelings for him, and he knew how badly it would have hurt you when he didn't defend you against those kids. He knew they saw him as one of them so he could have made a real difference but now he knows how badly he blew it. How badly he hurt you.

So when your friend drags you to his frat party, he takes it as a sign, a sign that the universe is trying awfully hard to give him another shot. He sees you before you see him and he puts his drink down, abandoning his game of beer pong in favour of trying to make amends with you. But when you look up and see his tall frame crossing the room to come find you, you panic. All you can remember is the teasing and the painful words his ‘friends’ spoke to you and how he stood by letting them just have at you. Even when the rumour spread across the entire school, it was all too late for him to stop it, but he could have defended you. He could have told the truth. He *should* have told the truth.

So you feel your fingers and toes getting cold, your face getting hot at the memory as you tap your friend on the shoulder, waving a goodbye and you bolt. But moving through crowds at your height is never easy, and guys take your persistent pushing as a sign you want to grind on them on the dance floor, one of them grabbing you by the waist and bringing himself towards you, but you shove him off. You eventually make it to the open front door, Greek lettering marking the entrance but it’s guarded by a familiar face. Aaron.

You tell him you have to go, that you shouldn’t be here, and he says he’ll walk you back to your dorm then. Ever the gentlemen (only when it least seems to matter). But then he says it. He calls you ‘red’. Only Aaron ever got to call you red because only Aaron knew the way your ears grew red whenever you were about to swing your fist at someone. When your anger bubbled up so high you’d just explode. Funnily enough, it’s him saying that this time that makes your ears grow red, as tears gather in your eyes. Your jaw is clenched tight as you tell him he lost EVERY right to call you that after what he put you through. After he left you to fend for yourself with those, those snakes. You don’t quite have it in you to punch him, a piece of you forever loving the shy, bright little boy who had changed your whole perspective on life. You settle for smacking your hands against his chest, unable to contain the hurt you still feel for how he left you.

He looks confused, trying to grab your hands and stop you from pounding against his chest and you realise, then that he never knew. No one ever told him you could hear him backstage at your school play, when his mic was still on. The whole school heard him spinning a web of lies about how you were head over heels for him and he’d had to fight you off with a chair and a whip. He never knew you stormed out of the school auditorium and had to lock yourself in your room for the last week of school term. He never knew how much you cried over what he did. How he lied to his friends to make himself seem cooler. He never told them how HE had been the one to admit he had feelings. How HE had pulled you in for a kiss, then pushed you off when the closet door opened and his girlfriend started telling everyone there that night what a slut you were. How you pined for him.

He really is that stupid. You push yourself away from him, stomping off towards your dorm, telling him that if he wants to talk to you ever again, you’ll be the one operating the chair and the whip. He stands crestfallen on the path, mind reeling with memories of when he’d used those words against you. He feels the air sucked from his lungs by the cold night air and he’s frozen there. He realises now why you’d made such an effort never to see him again. He realises now how he’d sunk his knife into your back that night.

You go about your life on campus, getting to know your professors, your classmates, and trying desperately hard not to think about a certain raven haired boy who you really wanted to forget even existed right now. Until one day, your friend called you, telling you to meet them under the secluded trees, behind the southern field of campus for a smoke so you could finally spill to her what had happened that night at the party to make you run away so fast.

Only when you arrive, your friend is nowhere to be seen. Instead, Aaron is there. Wearing his high school letterman jacket, with the most hopeful, sad look on his face. He has a bouquet of flowers and jars of fairy lights decorate the big blanket. There’s handmade pastries and your all time favourite, red velvet cupcakes waiting for you. You cross your arms, excited to hear just what he has to say for himself. And then a tear slides down his beautiful cheek, as he tells you how sorry he is for being a lovestruck idiot. He tells you he was infected with cooties and he was letting his dick think for him instead of his brain and that he should have defended you, and there is no excuse for what he did. He tells you more importantly how terrified he was when he couldn’t find you at school that next week. He tells you how he drove by your house on his way to school every morning hoping he’d see you walking out towards the bus stop, or that he’d see your light on in your room, but he never did.

Your mom came out one morning, heading to work and told him you’d gone to live with your dad in Washington. And his heart shattered. He felt so helpless and sick he thought it might have stopped. He never knew you’d heard him that night, but that’s no excuse for him ever even saying those things. What he should have said; was how much he loved you. He should have told his buddies in the play about how you’re the only reason he ever even made the football team, because you were there to push him harder each time he wanted to quit. You got him his scholarship to GWU. He owes his life to the little girl whose braces got caught on her bracelet. He would give anything to be able to go back and tell her how much he loved her beautiful hair and her buttercup lunchbox. But most importantly, how much he loved her spirit. Her smile that could pull his head out of his father’s revolving stormcloud around Aaron’s home. Her laugh that could cut through the thrumming in his ears when he couldn’t answer the teacher’s question because he had copied Red’s homework the night before.

He tells you he will spend his lifetime making it up to you if you’ll let him, because for better or for worse, Miss Grogan had announced the two of you husband and wife in the playground in the first grade. And he made his vows. Your Aaron, promises you that he will uphold them, even if you punch him in the teeth each time you see him. Because he deserves it. After all, he made you Red.

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thosehallowedhalls · 3 months

Text

Progression

Book: Crimes of Passion 2

Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Emma Rose)

Rating: General

Summary: Trystan reflects on his past and looks to the future.

A/N: I got whiplash when Trystan went from being obviously hurt by, and jealous of, Juliana's relationship with his/her sibling to literally laughing off the very idea of being jealous in the bonus scene. The transition felt off to me. This is an exploration of how s/he may have gotten to that point.

Also, the CoP2 timeline is a mess. But I think that by the time they went to Juliana's house and the yacht, Trystan and MC had known each other for around 2-3 months.

@choicesjanuary2024, Day 17, A period of deep reflection. @lilyoffandoms

Progression

Trystan stands up on wobbly legs. Walking Emma through his last memories of Juliana was excruciating, but he is glad he did so. If only because he needed to talk to somebody about Juli’s death, truly let himself feel the grief, without having to be on his guard lest the other person find something incriminating in his words. With Emma, he doesn’t have to watch out for verbal traps. Her only goal is to support him.

It makes all the difference.

They’re quiet on the way back to the palace. He glances at her. She’s looking out the window in a way that makes it clear she’s not seeing anything but her own thoughts. Her chin is set, her brow furrowed in concentration and sorrow for somebody she's never met. He knows she’s still thinking about Juliana.

He takes her hand and holds on tight, grounding himself in her presence.

After parting ways with Luke and Ruby, he waits five minutes before making his way to Emma’s room. Judging from how long it takes her to open the door, she isn’t expecting him tonight.

“Trystan? Is something wrong?”

He simply wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. She runs a hand down his back.

“You don’t want to be alone?” There’s understanding in her tone.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be without you. Can I stay tonight?”

She steps back and opens the door wider.

By tacit agreement, they don’t talk about the case. Today has been one emotional hit after another, and he desperately needs this moment of peace with someone he cares about. But no, he thinks when Emma gets into bed and turns on her side, facing away from him. Just someone won’t do. He needs a moment of peace with her.

He drapes an arm across her waist and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of Emma and feeling, more than usual, the absolute rightness of being with her.

Trystan wakes early the next morning, a comforting weight on his chest.

Emma.

He looks at her with a soft smile, enjoying the rare opportunity to watch her when she’s unaware. She’s such a vibrant person that it’s hard to think of her in anything but constant motion: even when she’s quiet, she’s gesturing with her hands or rolling her eyes or biting her lip. But when she sleeps, there’s nothing on her face but peace. He nuzzles her neck, enjoying the warmth of her skin and feeling something deep inside unlock.

He loves her.

Everything that’s been building up in him over the last couple of months finally breaks free, and love washes over him in a wave so intense it takes his breath away.

He didn’t remember it could be like this. Maybe it wasn’t like this. If the feeling in his heart, that sense of almost bursting apart at the seams, is any indication, this time he has more to give.

He hasn’t been giving her as much as he should, he thinks with a pang of regret. Between the pressures of preparing to rule, and the stressors of the investigation, he has been putting her second and third on his list of priorities.

No more.

He carefully eases out from under her, holding his breath as he reaches for his phone. He needn’t have worried, Emma doesn’t so much as stir. He emails his father, asking him to cover for him during the parliamentary session. Come hell or high water, today he’s taking Emma out on a date.

That is, if he can talk her into dropping the investigation for an hour or two, which admittedly might prove to be a problem.

The quiet reflection of the moment comes to a screeching halt when her phone chimes and she shoots out of bed like she’s on strings.

Still riding the high of new love, he grins at her. “Good morning to you too.”

Trystan sits on his bed, examining the locket they found earlier. There’s no more denying it; Juli and Sebastyan obviously had a romantic relationship at some point. He waits for the pang of hurt and jealousy that’s been stabbing him at irregular intervals since he found out about Juliana’s relationship with one of his siblings.

It doesn’t come.

Confused, he waits. Still nothing.

Well, no. Not nothing. He’s getting better at parsing out his emotions, so he takes stock. Anger, sorrow, regret. Not an ounce of jealousy in sight.

What changed?

It can’t be his love for Emma. He may have completed the fall this morning, but his feelings for her far preceded the crossing line. She’s been the only one he wants to be with since the moment he met her.

So maybe… Maybe it was never about jealousy. Maybe it was feeling like one of the few good memories of his past was now tainted. Like he could no longer cherish his memories of Juliana because he didn’t actually know her.

And that’s nonsense.

The love that he and Juliana shared can’t be undone. It happened, and it helped shape him into who he is. Even if she loved Bas at some point, he knows she loved him, too. She chose him. Just like he chose her eight years ago, and he’s choosing Emma now.

He still loves Juliana, of course. He always will. But he’s not in love with her anymore.

He’s in love with Emma. He will always be in love with Emma.

Acknowledging it is both freeing and bittersweet. He doesn’t know how their future will play out. They’ve both done an excellent job of dancing around the topic but remaining together after the coronation is going to be hard.

They will find a way, he assures himself. He loves her too much to accept anything less.

Emma is a rock during the aftermath of Sebastyan’s murder. He comes to depend on her so much that he can’t see himself ever letting her go.

Grief can bring bright flashes of clarity. In the midst of his sorrow and guilt, Trystan realizes one thing: she’s become the single most important part of his life.

He won’t lose her. He can’t lose her.

He’s furious when Astrid says he and Emma are doomed to break up – all the more so because it brings up all the fears and worries he’s been working hard to bury. He’s been studiously ignoring that little voice in his head that tells him he won’t only be losing his freedom when his father places the crown on his head: he’ll be losing the woman he loves along with it. It feels like he and Emma are standing on a ticking time bomb, and the timer is seconds from going off.

So he stops second-guessing every look and touch. He stops worrying about whether his affection is too forward, too public, too much. Instead, he focuses on enjoying every moment he has with her. He no longer knows if he’ll get many more.

He stands on the dais, the crown weighing heavily in his trembling hands. Dread presses down on his heart, making it hard to breathe. This is it. This is the moment that changes his life. The moment when he loses Emma for good.

He can’t do it.

He’s accepted everything else that life has thrown at him thus far. Tried to make the most of all of it. But he can’t, he won’t, accept losing her. So he makes his choice.

He puts the crown on Lydea’s head, briefly relishing the unfamiliar sense of absolute freedom in his heart, before turning to the assembled guests with a radiant smile.

“Long live the queen!”

He’s lying on the bench with Emma in his arms. She fell asleep minutes ago, her head on his chest and her hair tickling his jaw.

No regrets, she asked. He supposes it’s a reasonable question from Emma’s point of view, but it's almost comically absurd from his own. He’s never had fewer regrets in his life.

She’s the best choice he’s ever made.

@choicesficwriterscreations

#trystan x mc #trystan x emma #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #detective rose #emma rose #playchoices

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slashingdisneypasta · 8 months

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Hm... You know, you often compare yandere Wheezy to Mother Gothel. What if the situation between him and Y/N was something similarly to Mother Gothel and Rapunzel too?

Like maybe you two have known each other your whole lives. Or at least it feels like it (depending on when you guys met. Like high school or childhood or something). So it just felt natural to you when eventually you guys moved in together. It felt like a normal relationship had blossomed between you two. Granted, it was pretty lonely since everyone you get to know seems to leave one way or another... But you got your Wheezy. And he's got you. People say that as long as you have each other, it should be enough.

(And perhaps your Flynn Rider- perhaps a certain green weasel 👀- comes along when Wheezy isn't around for some reason. You get to hang out with somebody that isn't your boyfriend. And you realize how much of this you missed... And a lot more about your relationship.)

!! I cant believe this has taken me so long to respond to 😅😅 Especially since I am minorly obsessed with Gothel-YanWheezy semblance! XD I think I probably saw it during Placement but cuz of everything that was going on I just kindof... flew over it. I'm sorry, here have waffle 🧇

I- love- this! Wheezy keeping you for himself?? Wheezy manipulating his childhood friend into being his girlfriend- live-in fiancé- then wife?!! And Greasy being Y/N's secret flirty friend!???? So terrible and wholesome !

I know this isn't what you were talking about, but I couldn't help myself. Here's basically that scene at the end of Tangled when Rapunzel/Y/N tells Gothel/Wheezy that she'll stay, and be good, and never ever try to escape... so long as she's allowed to save Flynn/Greasy.

Yandere!Wheezy Weasel x Reader x Greasy Weasel || Drabble

*this Wheezy kinda gives off the same vibes as Otis in this specific gif, so... 😅

Plot: ->

"No! I wont stop. For every minute of the rest of my life, I will fight! I will never stop trying to get away from you! ... But if you let me save him,.. I will go with you. I'll never run, I'll never try to escape. Just let me heal him, and you and I will be together. Forever, just like you want."

Warnings: Greasy has gunshot wounds in his abdomen, gets his fingers crushed, and gets ash in his eyes. Wheezy puts you down and is, yaknow, a monster- Also it's unedited right now.

"Y/N, c'mon." The tone in Wheezy's voice is calm as ever, relaxed, even bored; But the way his teeth are grit despite not having a smoke in his mouth right now and how his knuckles are white gripping the rope wrapped tightly around his strong fist gives him clean away. His eyes flash behind a wall of smoke, down at you- and Greasy. On the ground. "Time to finish up, here. Timeta go. He's not goin' anywhere."

Tears are overflowing in your eyes, on the ground by Greasy- He's still sitting up but he's bleeding out fast, the bullet holes in his stomach turning his green suit a deep red. Almost black. He clutches the wound and glares up at Wheezy, but his eyes soften when they turn down to you again; Noticing you crying over him. "Mi amore... wipe yo- " As soon as Greasy attempts to reach over and comfort you, Wheezy steps lazily on his hand creeping along the ground. Not only does he step down but he slowly crushes the bones before your wide, horrified eyes. Its a small sign of uncharacteristic spitefulness, viciousness that is so unlike him, a side of him you swear you swear you swear you didn't know about. You swear. You want Greasy to know that! You desperately try to tell him that, with your eyes, because Wheezy would surely hurt him worse if you said them outload. "... its okay." He continues, voice cracking through the unimaginable pain. He's somehow still as off-puttingly charming as ever and it makes you wish you weren't so hopelessly blind about Wheezy even harder. God!-

If you had been aware, caught the red flags, noticed everything that Wheezy must have been doing all this time- even just one thing- then you never would have brought Greasy into this, never would have befriended him, never would've ever responded to his dumb cheap flattery. You would have pushed right by him that day you met and he would've felt the sting of rejection but that would have been it. Neither of you would have fallen in as ill-fated love as you have, he wouldn't be bleeding now, he wouldn't die- "Y/N, get up."

... Sniffling, you shake your head. "No, I- Ah!" As soon as you shook your head, Wheezy had rolled his eyes up and yanked at the rope- which is tied to your wrists behind your back.

"Gettin' on my nerves, doll... move your ass."

"No, Wheezy, he'll- " Finally turning and looking at your- at Wheezy, you flash a defiant glare. Theirs a desperate tone in your voice and you wonder why you still think he'll listen. He's not your Wheezy anymore. He's someone else entirely. Why are you still begging him?? "He'll die!" Because you dont have a choice. Greasy will die here.

"Yeah... kinda the point." After heaving a smoky sigh, and not even seeming to notice Greasy's glower up at him (Or not caring), Wheezy flicks the flat of his cap up his forehead and picks a loose smoke out from behind his ear; sticking it between his teeth and searching for his lighter in his pockets. "Sweetheart I think maybe you're not gettin' this." Finding the lighter, Wheezy carefully lights his cigarette; the end glowing, now. "That's alright, I guess," He thinks outloud, giving a tiny and half asses shrug as he folds the smoke and his hand back into his pant pocket. "'ts better if yer dumb."

"I- I'm no- "

"Yeah, y'kinda are." He huffs out a sigh, and dirty, stinky smoke flies out the corners of his mouth. You know he's referring to all those years he played you, and it shuts you up. Maye he's right...

God-

"No. No no no, Y/N, you are no- you are not dumb. Listen to me- ah," Struggling and grimacing, Greasy drags himself with his good hand a few inches closer to you. Then he uses that hand to squeeze his bullet wounds - which, now that you're looking at him again through the tears, have really done a number on him. The bags under his eyes are disgustingly deep... its makes your guts ache. He's going to die here and its all your fault, - and his useless, broken hand to reach for you once again. He never learns!- "You're very intelligent. Don't listen to him, listen to me. Its going to be o- " You're just wondering, wide eyed, how he can still be comforting you right now when Wheezy kicks his hand away, causing Greasy to growl and squeeze his eyes shut, forcing the pain away.

"... Damn. Grease, you really are fucken something. How many times have I toldya over the years just ta keep your hands ta yerself?? If you'd listened to me, we wouldn't be here."

Breathing through the pain, making his voice steady somehow, Greasy cracks his eyes open; Glancing upwards to Wheezy with a disgusting feral look in his eyes. "Mark my words, fumador... I am going to ruin you, for this."

Looking immeasurably bored, shoulders dropped and eyes half-hooded as he takes his smoke out between two of his fingers and blows out a cloud of grey, Wheezy shakes his head. "Ehhh, somehow I doubt it... "

Wheezy looks thoughtful for a moment at his cig, before shrugging like why not? and - without looking at either of you, - taps some hot, dusty ash directly into Greasy's eyes off the end before flicking the rest away to the ground. Greasy hisses and lets go of his abdomen in order to wipe the bloody heels of his hands into eyes to get the burning hot ash out of his eyes as hurriedly get a tissue from your pocket and go to help him, but-

"Uh uh uh," Wheezy wraps the rope a few more times around his hand and his wrist and forces you up onto your feet, digging his fingers into the back of waist band and holding you still. "Come on, lets go."

"No!" The rope around your waist digs through your shirt into your skin and the rope winding up your forearms rub but you fight- try not to move- not to leave- but now that you're on your legs its harder to stay still. Wheezy's tall, and his limbs are long and sinewy and like rock, and so far he hasn't even tried to use that against you.

"Fightin' it's just gonna make it worse, (Nickname). And whether ya believe it or not, I do not get my kicks outta this." Just behind you, you feel him shrug again; against your back. "Jus' not my idea of a Saturday night, I guess. I will hurt ya if y'make me, though."

"Let me- "

"Are you gonna ask me to let ya go??" He sounds genuinely disappointed, groaning, like he's watching a soap and his favourite character did something ill-advised that he disapproves of. He's acting like he's on a job Smartass forced him into! Like he's only half here- have on the back porch smoking a couple packs. Like ruining your life and killing his best friend is just shit that he's 'gotta do'. "C'mon, doll, you're better then tha- "

"Let me save him."

This gives Wheezy pause. You're not facing him so you turn, wanting to see how he's taking that and why he's so silent, catching him looking cold and vicious again. Those blue eyes have never looked icier, and his jaw is set tight, and he has never seemed taller. Right now he's like 30 story skyscraper. You feel so small... until- "Nope."

He tries again to walk off with you but you glance at Greasy, head bowed against the ground and the puddle of his own blood around him, just trying to focus on breathing slowly, and your heart sinks. You know you can't leave him like that. You absolutely can't. You love hi-

Mm. Setting a determined look on your face, you grab Wheezy- yanking back to you by his vest and holding on tight. You need him to look at you, you need him to pay attention. You need him to listen to you.

Once last time. One last time, Wheezy... please, please...

Once, at some point, he must have really loved you in that soft way that you're supposed to love people- where you want them to be happy and want you back- and he has to have a little bit of that left. You have to believe that he does, at least. Because that is the part you need to hear you, right now.

"If you don't let me save him I will be trying to get away from you for the rest of our lives. You will never catch a break. You will never rest. Because the moment you do, I will be out the window trying to get back... to him... " Tightening your grip even more on his vest as Wheezy looks unimpressed, you go on; vanquished and gone of all your fight, all but a little bit. Enough to save Greasy. "... But if you do let me... "

"Nn... Y/N, no- "

When you don't go on, scared of what you're about to say and horrified at Greasy's state, Wheezy narrows his eyes at you to spur you to go on again. Taking a deep breath, you look away from Greasy and give Wheezy a quiet, sincere nod; brushing your foreheads together you're so close. "-If you let me heal him, then we can go together, and I will not try to escape. I will never, ever, leave you... We can fall in love again. I can do that! I will do it." You nod again, assuring you and him. Tears gather in your eyes but they just prove you're telling the truth, so you let them go. "You can have everything you want, we can go wherever you want, I'll be whoever you me to be...

Just let me heal him."

You search his eyes for a full minute, waiting for him to respond. Your tears fall down your cheeks and he watches them go and drip down off your chin onto the collar of your shirt, thinking... until his gaze nudges upwards to your eyes again; chewing something in the back of his mouth. "Fall back in love with me, huh? Y'can do that?"

Sniffling, you carefully nod. "Yes." Or something like love. Something disgusting, but similar. He wont be able to tell the difference.

Wheezy's icy, slate-grey eyes scrutinise you up so close, and you hold your breath- and you hold him, because he's holding all the cards and that's all you can do.

#you'll notice that wheezy chucks out a cigerette he only just started in this 😂😂#there is your true sign that he is 'different' here XD #Wheezy Weasel #Wheezy Weasel x Reader #Greasy Weasel #Greasy Weasel x Reader #Disney Villains #Drabble #Disney Villains x Reader #Yandere

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troius · 1 year

Text

Six Hearts vs. Fullbringers: Chad vs. Jackie

So, one of these fights should probably address that there were more than just one perpetrator and victim to this whole scheme, right?

Something that gets lost when the Soul Reapers show up is the idea that the core betrayal here involved anybody besides Ichigo and Ginjo. Sure, Jackie’s fight with Renji winds up having some slightly redemptive aspects to it, but they get swallowed by Renji’s unfortunate attitude during that fight, as well as the fact that Jackie hasn’t actually done anything to him.

But Chad’s a different story! He was the first person Xcution targeted in their scheme to entrap Ichigo, a scheme that worked, which had to make him feel very used, even before Tsukishima stuck fake memories in his head and made him fight Ichigo. So if Chad gets to throw down here instead of being hastily written off, he’s going to have some deep feelings of betrayal towards the Fullbringers. And nobody, I think, will provoke these strong feelings like Jackie.

Because she doesn’t really have any excuses! She’s not a child like Yukio, or a teenager like Riruka, she’s a grown woman. She’s also not a sick, evil person like Giriko who just enjoys hurting others. And she doesn’t have Ginjo’s personal grudge against Soul Society twisting logic to justify her actions. She was the sane one of Xcution, and yet she still went along with their scheme, seemingly out of loyalty to Ginjo for picking her out of a rough place in her life.

And the funny thing is...that’s how Chad feels about Ichigo. They were that person for one another, back in middle school. But theirs was a relationship of equals, and together they developed strong, independent centers of morality that Jackie doesn’t seem to have. It’s easy to miss in all the Tsukishima nonsense, but Chad fights his best friend, for what he believes is moral principle!

So this fight becomes about Chad conveying that principle to somebody who he feels greatly hurt him, but who he also still has some positive emotions towards-- Jackie was easily the most welcoming member of Xcution to him and Ichigo, and I imagine Chad probably feels a connection with her foreign background as well. Chad’s not going to be shy about defending himself, but he’s not going to want to kill her.

Which is where the drama in the fight comes in, because the offensive half of Chad’s powers is “La Muerte”, which would probably be literal if he used it on Jackie-- I doubt she has Arrancar-level durability. The fight would revolve around him trying to win without using it, which would put them on a more even playing field.

I’m torn on how Chad wins-- using La Muerte on just Jackie’s fullbring would put her in the same place as canon, without her powers, but sort of seems to send the wrong message for me. He might just have to win with a straight, non-powered left hook, set up by a switch to using his right arm defensively instead of offensively. But where the fight as a whole ends would be right after that, where Chad extends that same hand with an open palm, giving Jackie a chance for redemption that actually feels earned, because she’s had to confront the things she did and the person she did them to.

#Bleach #Troius fantasy books Bleach

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 9 months

Text

Corrupted, Chapter Two: Devil in the Details - a Malevolent x TMA crossover

Tim opened a book he shouldn't have.

When he wakes, he is no longer alone.

AO3

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

Tim wakes in the dark.

It’s not the first time he’s woken in the dark. The first, he was fifteen, indulging in illegal alcohol to deal with his father’s premature death, and he’d come to in a sort of… culvert. It was dark, and echoey, and scary, but he’d found his way back out.

That’s a weird thing to recall right now, but his mind feels weird—memories sifted, out of place, like somebody took the books of his brain and dumped them all on the floor.

Well, it’s dark here, wherever he is.

There’s carpet under him. He feels it with his fingers, half sits up, and groans. His head feels heavy. “Ugh,” he says, and pulls out his phone.

The screen isn’t working.

Great. He must have broken it when he fell. So much for the military grade protection promised with this case.

At least the carpet means he’s not outside someplace, so he probably wasn’t robbed. It probably wasn’t a stroke, or something medical. Where the hell was this, anyway? He starts feeling around himself, trying to locate a wall, furniture, maybe a lamp.

Hello, friend.

Okay, so that’s… a big voice, and totally unfamiliar. Tim goes very still. “Hello?”

Take it easy. You’ve had an accident, but you’re going to be okay.

“Shit,” says Tim. “Shit. Hey, do you have a light? I can’t see anything.”

Yes, I know.

“What? What do you mean, you know?”

What’s your name, friend?

Such a voice. Resonant. Deep. One in a million deep. It’s sexy, if he’s honest—crazy smooth, and probably sounded great with an ear to its owners’ chest.

Shame its owner is being so fucking weird. “Come on, man. I need a light.”

In time. Friend, tell me your name.

Funny thing about that voice, though. Tim knows he can’t be hearing it right.

At first, he thought he’d just misheard. Then, he’d thought he was dazed. He must have head trauma, because the voice is not in front of him, or behind, or to the side. It’s not looming above. It’s not piping in from a speaker tucked into some corner. This voice—

Tim shakes his head, smacks the side of it. “What? I’m… wait.”

It’s all right. You can give me your name when you feel safer. Now, I’m going to need you to stand up very slowly. There’s a table right in front of you that you can use to get your balance.

This voice isn’t in his ears. It’s between them.

Tim starts breathing too fast.

There’s a book in front of you, where you dropped it on the table. I need you to open it for me.

“Wait. Wait, you…” This table. This carpet. Tim knows where he is. He fucking grew up here—but his parents’ house could never get this dark. “Wait, what’s happening?” he says, panic rising.

Take it easy, friend. I need you to pick up the book.

“Where are you?” Tim demands. “Where the fuck are you, because I can’t…” He reaches up over the small table to the wall, because he knows what this old wallpaper feels like, and yes, it’s there, and if he reaches higher, he can find the nail where one of the packed paintings was hung, and yes, it’s there, and—

This house cannot get this dark.

Friend, says the voice, just a pinch less patient.

This voice is in his head , he has gone fucking blind, and also fucking crazy.

Tim takes out his phone. “Hey, Siri,” he says.

“Mm-hm?” Siri says, because his phone is not broken—he just can’t see it.

I need police, he thinks. An ambulance.

A priest.

Tim starts laughing unsteadily and sinks back down to the floor.

There is a sigh in his head. Friend. I’m not going to hurt you.

“Sure! I’m just blind, and hearing voices! It’s great! This is all great.”

I need you to pick up the book. Do you remember opening it? The book is what put us both in this situation.

“Us both. In this situation. What, are you hearing voices, too?” Tim laughs again.

Well, friend... maybe I should be more clear. I’m trapped in your body. And I do mean trapped. This is not what was supposed to happen. I need to see the book and verify what occurred.

Like the voice was diagnosing a noise in an engine.

“Verify what occurred. Why? What was supposed to happen?”

Not this.

“Well, bad news for you, buddy, because if you are in this body, it’s fucking broken. I can’t see.”

I can.

Finally, that creepy little I know catches up to him, and Tim goes very still. “You’re using my eyes?”

In a sense.

“What kind of cheesy sci-fi bullshit is this? You stole my fucking eyes?”

Not precisely. I seem to have landed in them. You did use them to look at the book, after all.

“Glad you find this funny!” Tim snaps, because he damn well knows this voice finds it funny, and that is the worst, most inhuman, most weirdly cruel response to a situation of this kind that he can imagine—and it is a response that completely lacks surprise. Tim gasps. “You knew this would happen.”

Not for this to happen, no.

“This. Isn’t. Funny,” Tim says, low.

A pause. Friend. In what way have I indicated amusement? And in truth, he hasn’t, in truth, he sounds smooth and calming and warm, so why does Tim know he finds it funny? Why can he tell how this being feels?

Because it’s a fucking demon, thinks Tim, who does not believe in demons, or aliens (though he thinks they’re more probable), but a demon seems more likely to be trapped in a book than an alien would.

A whole series of thoughts land in Tim’s head like an itemized list.

One: Danny had told him not to open it.

Two: Some of Danny’s contacts had looked around Danny’s apartment and not found whatever they wanted. Maybe they were looking for the book.

Three: They’d killed Danny over it, so they probably still want it back.

Four: Now that Tim is possessed, or whatever is going on, it’s likely he’s become of great interest to the cultists, too.

He is even more afraid. “This is really happening, huh?” he whispers, sick to his stomach.

It is. I know it’s a lot, friend, but I am not your enemy. Please pick up the book.

“How were you in a book?” Tim stands again, though his legs are shaking, and feels along the table. “How does that happen to a person?”

Certainly not through any ordinary means. Open it and turn the pages for me.

“Sure. Sure.” Only as Tim opens the book does he realize he’s probably being foolish.

One (because there go the lists again): He doesn’t know what repeatedly opening the book will do.

Two: He can’t imagine any good reason why someone would be put in a book.

Three: He thinks he might be going into shock.

Please turn the pages for me. There we go. Just like that, the voice soothes, and then begins murmuring in a language Tim has never encountered, presumably reading.

Tim can’t stop breathing too fast.

This can’t be happening. It can’t. Things like this don’t happen, so therefore, it can’t.

The voice sighs. Hm. Well, friend, I have good news and bad news for you. Are you ready?

“I n… I need to sit down,” says Tim, and does, right on the floor. He puts his head in his hands. “This is happening?”

Yes.

He tells himself there wasn’t dark eagerness in that voice, in that word. He swallows. “What’s the good news and bad news?”

The good news is, you are not going to die.

“Oh.” Tim is surprised. He doesn’t find relief in that, not like he thinks he should; it’s just a dull echo (I’m all that’s left, you know?) of how he’s felt over the past month, and it isn’t very fun.

The bad news is the book did not do what it was supposed to do; that is why you’re suffering now. That is why you are blind.

“What was it supposed to do?”

We’ll get to that.

And the voice says it patiently, but Tim knows—knows—it is not being patient at all. It’s being cagey.

Maybe it’s not a demon, after all, he thinks with rising hysteria. Maybe it’s the Devil. Don’t believe in that, either, but foxholes, or something… “Who are you, anyway?” he says, just to prove it isn’t Satan.

I think the more important question may be, who are you?

Tim has no idea what to say to that. “I’m not… anybody.” He laughs weakly. “I’m not even employed right now.”

How did you get this book, friend?

“I don’t even know what the book is,” says Tim, avoiding the question. “Or who you are. Or… fuck, what you are.”

Silence.

“Hello?” says Tim.

I’m here. Friend, take a breath. You’re safe.

“Safe! I’m blind!”

I’m not. This isn’t going to be permanent.

“Explain.”

I’d like your name, first.

“Why? Dark deeds?" says Tim, recalling the few DND campaigns he'd enjoyed while dating Oscar, and later Elizabeth. "Does it give you power, getting my name?”

Oh, this being's chuckle is wicked, absolutely wicked, and Tim would have loved to hear it in intimate, other circumstances because it would be thrilling and sexy and great—but hearing it now, blind, trapped, stuck with some cagey-ass voice in his head, it is not sexy. It is not great.

No, friend. It’s polite. We’re about to be very close for what is hopefully a short time, and it seems to me that names will make this… easier.

“Fuck it,” Tim says. “This might as well happen. Tim. All right? I'm Tim. And who the hell are you? Eldritch Barry White?”

The being chuckles, a darkly hedonist sound. You can call me John. The delivery was plain, calm, the way one says a name. The feeling is mocking, and amused, and sort of weirdly bitter.

“That's not your name at all, is it?” says Tim.

There’s a pause. Tim thinks he may have surprised this John. It’s not. It is, however, the one I choose to use, for… personal reasons.

The voice sounds way too entertained, and weirdly enough, this is the moment Tim finally believes he is not imagining what’s happening.

He would not have imagined someone giving him a fake name that stupid and thinking it funny in this situation. Beelzebub, maybe, or something wild like Radagascar.

Tim goes quiet.

Tim, says the voice, too smooth, too innocent: Why do you have this book?

Tell him, or no? Is there a point to lying?

Blind. Tim is blind. That is honestly so frightening that he can’t fully think past it. “My brother stole it from some cultists. He told me that, anyway. Asked me to hide the book. Then he was murdered.”

Silence for a moment. Ah. I’m sorry for your loss, Tim. This is important information; I wasn’t entirely sure of your innocence, given that instead of releasing me from the book, I seem to be stuck inside you. But I believe you. You mean what you say.

Oh, that feels bad. It feels like some general or judge or ruler, used to proclaiming reality, has decided to call Tim innocent—and if he had not, some unseen axe would have fallen.

“What are you?” says Tim, voice cracking.

Tim, is there a mirror? I’d like to see you.

“You think if we… you… can I get my sight back?”

I don’t see why not, in time.

Tim thinks it’s a lie.

Tim does not care if it’s a lie. He needs it right now, so he walks.

He knows where a mirror is, of course. He knows how many steps to the bathroom in this house he’s lived in most of his life. Knows how to turn on the light he cannot see, and where to stand.

Oh, Tim, says John, warm and rich and genuinely pleased now. You’re a very handsome man.

“Sure,” Tim mutters.

This is good. We can use this.

Tim can’t help blurting. “Why? Did I stumble into Whore of the Rings, or something?”

He’s definitely surprised the being this time, and surprised it into laughing. Just as evil a sound, just as deep, more toe-tingling powerful than that chuckle, but… genuine. That’s clever, Tim. And no. I do not think whoring, per se, will get us out of this. However, humans do respond well to attractiveness—and you are very attractive. We can use this to find out what we need about our situation. To find help.

“Help? How? With who? I’m not going to go to the people who killed my brother. Fuck no, I��m not doing that.”

No, I wouldn’t suggest that. Whatever human nonsense they intended here has been compromised, and you would not be safe. I do not want you to be killed in some mistaken effort to free me. No. We will find another way.

Tim swallows. “Okay, first: human? Like you’re not one. And second, which should probably be first, kill me to free you?”

There are misguided people who would do that, yes.

“Oh, but you’re on my side now, is that it what I’m supposed to believe?”

Simply put, I like you; your death would be a sad and unnecessary end, and I wish to prevent it. So, Tim: is there a wizard in your life?

Is there a—

Tim needs a moment.

The large furniture is already gone from this place, so there is nothing to sit down on beyond the floor. He leaves the bathroom, leans against the wall and slides down, knees to his chest.

At least the being isn’t pretending not to be dangerous.There has to be some security in that. Some reassurance. Tim rubs his face. “Wizard. Are you serious?”

Your brother clearly knew some.

“Well, we… we didn’t run in the same circles.”

It hardly has to be the same. Sorcerers. Worshipers. Something.

Tim laughs. “No. I worked in publishing. I don’t know anybody like that. And maybe Danny did, but he didn’t label his contacts, so fuck if I know who they were.”

A pause.

All right. We’re going to need someone versed in the esoteric, Tim. Since deciding (apparently) not to kill him, John has changed how he says Tim’s name. It’s warm. Mildly affectionate, the way one might talk to a favorite plant.

Tim takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know anybody like that.”

There must be someone.

Tim tries to think. Gods, he wishes Danny were alive. He could ask. Danny would know. Danny would have friends. “I’m thinking,” he says.

Take your time, Tim. It’s all right.

Fuck this voice. Fuck this voice’s owner. Fuck whoever had the book, and then put the voice in it, and then made it so damn easy to undo.

(What had been the intended effect, anyway? Just freeing this thing? Worse? Maybe taking more than his eyes?)

For no reason, eyes makes Tim think of a news item from a few years ago that had everybody laughing. Files had been leaked, and an academic institution found itself raked through the coals for hoarding nonsense.

Supposedly.

He'd paid no attention at the time because it obviously was nonsense. Except now, nothing is obvious, at all.

“There may be someplace we can go,” he says, softly. “I…” His voice cracks. “I’m going to do a search on my phone, but you’ll need to read the results.”

Clever boy. Go on.

It helps, that praise. Which is stupid. It shouldn’t help. But it does. Why?

Well, Tim knows why (he knows his proclivities), but this is not the time to enjoy praise from someone in control because Tim did not give that someone control, and that matters.

Also, that someone is an inhuman monster. So.

Moving right along: “Hey, Siri.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Search 'The Magnus Institute, London.'”

#tma #malevolent #tma fic #malevolent fic #tma crossover #malevolent crossover #tma x malevolent #malevolent x tma #tim stoker #timother stoker #the king in yellow #kiy malevolent #hastur malevolent

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acestear · 11 months

Text

Inside part 1

finally taking some time to post something longer.

inside really destroyed me, I’m just gonna talk pretty short about the movie, the songs and some quotes so this post doesn’t end up being a 500 page book. starting the parallels between it and "make happy"

in the ending of make happy you see Bo enter a small room after preforming, he sings one last song "are you happy?". he leaves the room after finishing and doesn't preform anything for the next 5 years. at the start of inside, he's back in that same room. he leaves only to later on find an excuse to come back

the movie starts off with the song "content" where Bo sings that he has been depressed but will still try to make content, seeing if it could help with his mental state.

‘Robert's been a little depressed (no) And so today I'm gonna try just. Getting up, sitting down. Going back to work. Might not help, but still, it couldn't hurt’

The next song is “comedy”

in this song Bo sings that he wants to help people, but that the only thing he can do is comedy, and try to make people feel better with jokes. but he’s unsure if it’s okay for him to joke when literally the whole world is ending (it didn’t actually end but like that’s what people thought yk)

‘Should I be joking at a time like this? Somebody help me out, 'cause I don't know. And I want to help to leave this world better than I found it And I fear that comedy won't help, and the fear is not unfounded Should I stop trying to be funny?’

then we have FaceTime with my mom

honestly I’m kinda struggling with this one, except for the obvious fact that the song is about Bo FaceTiming with his mom to me I just seems like he doesn’t have anything better to do so he just talks to his mom. “My mother's covering her camera with her thumb I'll waste my time FaceTiming with my mom” I’m really unsure about this one, so I’d love to hear other people’s opinions on this one.

moving on to how the world works

ok this one I actually have something to say about, so the song starts of with Bo explaining how the world “works” in the kind of way you’d explain it in a kids show. Then socko comes out and explains it in a way that focuses a lot on social criticism, he talks about the world in a very pessimistic but real way. The song also talks about how Bo wants to help but he feels unsure about what to because he has a lot of privileges and the bad things that are happening in the world doesn’t really have anything to do with him. So after socko is done with his part Bo says this:

“That's pretty intense No shit What can I do to help? Read a book or something, I don't know Just don't burden me with the responsibility of educating you It's incredibly exhausting. I'm sorry, Socko I was just trying to become a better person Why do you rich fucking white people Insist on seeing every socio-political conflict Through the myopic lens of your own self-actualization? This isn't about you So either get with it, or get out of the fucking way”

White Woman's Instagram

again, one I’m struggling with.

the way I interpreted it was that he was talking about how people tend to copy each other to fit in. Like he sings a lot of different thing that “every” white woman posts on insta. Still I’m very unsure about this one.

the next one is unpaid intern but this one is so short and the lyrics are so hard to read deep meanings into so I’m just gonna say this, it’s about unpaid interns.

bezos I is probably the most unserious song in this movie( I know it seems like I’m just skipping so many songs but Bo just had to put all of those song right after each other T^T, pretty much done with the songs that I struggle with so part 2 is probably gonna be a lot better)

#bo burnam inside #bo burhnam #Inside #depression movie #I will definitely edit this later

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grahamobrien13 · 11 months

Note

hotchreid hatesex.... or any kind of angsty smut lol... daddy hotch is always a plus...

I hope this is good. It got longer than I wanted it to be, but I think its okay.

1,748 words

Warnings: Rough sex, light bondage, daddy kink, name calling/degradation, story is NSFW, minors dni!

Full story below the cut

Read on AO3

Spencer was panting, sweat was dripping down his forehead. He had a fleeting thought to wipe it away but he knew he needed to keep both of his hands on his gun, so he let the sweat continue on its path. He was currently running after a suspect, JJ was about 20 feet to his left also chasing after the suspect.

“Suspect turned East. He’s heading for a warehouse.” He heard JJ’s voice in his earpiece. He took a deep breath and forced his legs to move faster. He saw the warehouse ahead and watched as the suspect entered. He and JJ made eye contact. If this was where the Unsub had been hiding out, then they knew he would have plenty of defenses.

“He entered the warehouse.” Spencer said into his mic, “We should go in after him-”

“No.” Came Aaron’s strict voice, “Wait for backup. SWAT will be there in 2 minutes.”

“There’s no time, he could kill the hostage… This has to be where he is keeping her.” Spencer said. He gave JJ another glance before running into the warehouse. JJ was quick to follow him. She wasn’t about to let him go in with nothing. Spencer held his gun, turning corners and clearing each different area. Finally, he found the suspect in a closet. The man was holding a gun to to hostage.

“Come any closer and I’ll shoot. I swear!” The man shouted. Spencer glanced down the hall to see JJ coming up on his right.

“You don’t want to do this, Chris, I know that your sister is worried about you and she wants you to come back to her unharmed.” Spencer said. He knew the only person that really mattered to this man was his sister, so he hoped it would be a good way to get him to surrender.

“You don’t know anything about my sister! She-She’s not going to want to see me when you tell her what I’ve done.” The man shouted. The woman that he was holding cried, looking at Spencer with fear in her eyes.

“Listen, she already knows. She knows that you need help and she is going to be there for you every step of the way, but you have to put the gun down.” Spencer said. The man glanced over to JJ.

“He’s right, Chris, just put the gun down and we can take you to see your sister.” JJ said, “Look, I’m putting mine away.” She said, putting it back into her holster and holding her hands up. After a couple seconds, the man dropped his gun on the floor and let go of the woman he was holding. Spencer was quick to apprehend the man and JJ went to the woman, calling for medics. Spencer escorted the man outside and into a police car before heading over to his awaiting boss.

“You should have waited for backup, he could’ve shot JJ, or the hostage… Or you.” Aaron said.

“And if we had waited he could have shot her.” Spencer said, “We got him and no one got hurt. That’s a win in my book.” He shrugged off his vest and got into the SUV.

♡♡♡

As soon as they landed back in Quantico the next morning, Aaron looked directly at Spencer.

“Reid, I’ll be your ride home. We need to discuss what happened yesterday.” He said. Spencer gave him a nod and began gathering his stuff.

“Oooh, sounds like somebody’s in trouble.” JJ teased him. Spencer blushed a bit and rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the looks and giggles the others were giving him. Spencer followed Aaron to his car, head down.

The car ride was silent and Spencer was finally starting to get a little nervous. He had an idea of what Aaron had in store for him, but he’d never really disobeyed in order like that. Not since he and Aaron had started this relationship.

“Could you at least yell at me a little. The silence is killing me.” Spencer finally said as they were pulling up to Aaron’s home. Aaron ignored him. The two made their way into Aaron’s apartment and dropped their bags. Luckily, Jack was still with Jessica so they had the apartment to themselves. As soon as the bags were on the floor, Aaron was pushing Spencer against the door they had just entered.

“You’ve been a bad boy.” He growled into Spencer’s ear, “And I think it’s time for you to be punished.” Aaron gripped Spencer’s wrists and held them above his head. Spencer let out a soft whimper and looked at the older man.

“Mm, yeah, Aaron. I’ve been so, so bad this week.” He murmured, trying to push his hips against Aaron’s, but Aaron was quick to pin them with his own waist. Aaron kissed him roughly, biting into the younger man’s bottom lip. Spencer let out a moan and pushed against Aaron’s hips again. Aaron began biting and sucking his way down Spencer’s neck, leaving red marks in a path. He pulled Spencer’s sweater vest off and ripped the shirt open, buttons went flying. Spencer whined a bit, “That was my favorite shirt.” He said, but he was quickly silenced by Aaron’s lips on his again. After a few moments, Spencer was guided into Aaron’s bedroom and pushed into the bed.

“You’re such a mouthy little slut.” Aaron said, his voice deep. Spencer loved when he got like this. Aaron was quick to unbuckle his belt, followed by unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Spencer watched with a lustful look in his eyes, until he was being pulled back up to his feet, then immediately pushed into his knees. The hardwood floor hurt a bit, but he couldn’t be bothered to think of that when Aaron’s cock was suddenly in his face. “Let's see if you can use that mouth for a better cause.” Aaron said before gripping Spencer’s hair and pushing himself into the younger man’s mouth. Spencer gagged a bit, but moaned around the sudden intrusion to his mouth. He relaxed his jaw and started to circle his tongue around Aaron’s tip as the older man thrust his hips. Spencer reached his hand down to toy with his own hard member in his pants.

“Tsk, tsk, who told you that you could touch yourself? Because it certainly wasn’t me.” Aaron growled, pushing his cock deeper into Spencer’s throat. Spence whined and moved his hands to rest behind his back, “That’s better.” Aaron said, leeting his head fall back in pleasure as he fucked the doctor’s mouth.

Soon enough, Aaron was dragging Spencer up and back into the bed. Spencer looked at the older man, who was already squirting lube on his fingers. Spencer decided to take it upon himself to pull his pants and boxers off, not wanting any more of his clothes ruined. The ripped shirt still hung on his shoulders.

“Please, Aaron-”

“Ah, whats my name?” Aaron asked, raising one eyebrow. Spencer licked his reddened lips.

“Daddy… Please Daddy.” Spencer moaned, “I-I need you so bad… Please.” Aaron narrowed his eyes for a second, as if trying to figure out if Reid really needed it. Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes and a pouty lip.

“Mm, you may want it, but do you deserve it?” Aaron said, circling one finger around Spencer’s rim. A whine left the younger man, “I mean, you did directly disobey the order that I gave you.” Aaron said, prodding a bit at his hole.

“M’sorry, daddy, I’ll listen better. I promise. I just need you so bad.” He cried out. Aaron was finally satisfied with that, so he pushed two fingers into Spencer. The young doctor let out a series of profanities followed by a loud moan as Aaron scissored his fingers.

“You like that, baby?” Aaron growled, watched Spencer practically lose all control, “I bet you love it, you little slut. My fingers slipped right in. You practically ate them up.” He teased the younger man. Spencer tried to push himself down, but Aaron held him in place and added a third finger. He was quick to prep Spencer, wanting to get in him as soon as he could. Once he felt the younger man was ready, he pulled his fingers out and flipped him over to lay on his stomach. Aaron pulled his hips up so that Spencer’s ass was in the air. He then used his own discarded tie to secure Spencer’s wrist above his head.

“Fuck, fuck, please Daddy- Ah” Spencer moaned as Aaron’s slicked up cock pushed past his rim. Aaron wasn’t slow like he typically would be, but he wasn’t too fast either. Spencer thought he was going to lose his mind if Aaron didn’t start pounding him right then, “Please!” He whined again.

“Oh, you want me to go fast? And Hard?” Aaron growled, close to Spencer’s ear. Spencer nodded quickly.

“Yes, yes, please!” He moaned, feeling Aaron barely thrust his hips. Aaron’s fingers dug into Spencer’s hips and he suddenly set a brutal pace, slamming against Spencer fast and hard. Spencer cried out in pleasure, gripping the top of the sheets.

“Fucking hell, Spencer.” Aaron moaned, his head thrown back in pleasure. He reached up and gripped Spencer’s hair, causing the younger to let out a whimper. “Fuck, you’re such a bad boy.” Aaron said, voice wavering a bit from the intense pleasure that he was feeling. Spencer let out a pleasure filled sob and came on the bed sheets, untouched. Aaron moaned as the younger man clenched around him. He pushed deep and began filling Spencer up with his own cum.

As the two came down from their orgasms, Aaron grabbed some towels and began cleaning them both up. He handed Spencer a water bottle and some crackers.

“Here, you need to drink this.” Aaron said, helping Spencer to sit up.

“Thanks, Aaron.” He said, beginning to take small sips of the water. Aaron smiled and sipped his own.

“Are you feeling okay?” Aaron asked, “Do you need anything else?”

“No, no I’m good. A little sore, but in a good way.” Spencer said, “Ya know… I might be inclined to disobey more orders if this is how you react.” Spencer teased his boss/boyfriend.

“You better not.” Aaron said, raising an eyebrow. He couldn’t keep the serious face, though, and he broke out in a smile.

“I love you.” Spencer said, leaning forward to kiss Aaron.

“I love you too, Spencer.”

#hotchreid #heid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotchreid oneshot #aaron hotchner #spencer reid

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jon-astronaut · 2 years

Text

Stranger Things Social Media AU - But I Knew You - (Ronance & Stonathan) - Chapter 10

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Jonathan’s POV

Jonathan knocked on Eddie’s dorm’s door hesitantly, hoping that Robin gave him the right room number and he was at the right one. It took a while until he heard some shuffling inside and he heard the footsteps make their way to the front which only increased his nervousness. He never had to buy any stuff, Argyle, his best friend from California knew where to buy all the best and Jonathan just gave him the money or Argyle just shared. Finally the door opened, and a boy with curly hair about the same height as him appeared with a t-shirt that he was still pulling over his head.

“Uh, hi.” Jonathan said shifting between his feet. “I took your name from Robin.” He quickly added.

“Right, she told me a friend was coming.” Eddie said and opened the door wide. “Steve put on a shirt, we have company.” He called inside as he ushered Jonathan in.

Jonathan’s heart jumped a beat at the mention the name Steve’s, but Steve Harrington couldn’t be the only Steve in the whole school. Even if it was his Steve, so what, Jonathan thought. Steve and him were slowly becoming more friend-like in the sense that they were no longer running from each other and hanging together with Robin and Nancy, they were also occasionally sending snaps and texting. It wouldn’t be that awkward to see him. Also, Robin sounded like he was friends with Eddie and Steve could be too and maybe they were smoking together and maybe Steve just wanted to take his shirt off. That all made sense. Probably it wasn’t Steve Harrington though.

Eddie almost crushed into him when Jonathan stopped dead in his tracks seeing Steve Harrington sprawled onto what Jonathan assumed to be Eddie’s bed, with a t-shirt worn inside-out. Eddie went around him and laughed at the way Steve was wearing his t-shirt as Steve looked at Jonathan with a sort of horrified expression.

“So how much do you want?” Eddie asked sitting on his chair.

Jonathan couldn’t speak. It turned out to be the Steve he knew, and it turned out that they weren’t just friends. He wasn’t stupid, it was as clear as day. A really hurtful thought passed his mind, where he wanted to take a jab at Steve saying how he was still living everything behind close doors but, he held his tongue because he knew it was unfair. He never demanded for them to become really official and out but somehow Steve thought it could be one way or the other and broke Jonathan’s heart in the worst way possible. Now, Steve had found somebody new right when Jonathan was warming up to him. Great.

“Jonathan.” Steve finally let out breaking the silence and earning him a scowl from Eddie. “Jonathan, hi. We were just hanging you know.” Steve added running one hand through his hair and raising the other hand that was holding the joint.

Eddie looked at Steve and Steve averted his eyes, then at Jonathan and finally back at Steve. He turned around in his chair and grabbed a little plastic bag and tossed it to Jonathan who was so caught up in surprise that he almost dropped it down.

“The first one’s on the house. You have good connections after all.” Eddie said to him with a smirk before his eyes landed on Steve who was now sitting up on the bed and trying to catch Jonathan’s eyes.

“Thanks, man.” Jonathan mumbled, trying not to look at Steve and trying not to think why he was suddenly losing it.

“Jonath-“ Steve started but Jonathan was already turning back on his heel.

“I should go.” Jonathan mumbled again, his back already turned to Steve and Eddie. “And, sorry for interrupting.” He added so quietly and bolted out of the room.

Once he was back to his floor, he leaned against the wall and took in a few deep breaths and let them out. He shoved the little plastic packet to his pocket and ran a hand through his hair, grabbing onto them and exhaling again. Fuck, he thought, he was never going to get his hopes up again. Maybe he shouldn’t have warmed up to Steve so quickly. He shook his head to himself. No, it was okay that he did that but he expected too much. They were barely becoming friends, and would never be anything more. Never. Steve clearly had somebody else.

Robin’s POV

Robin’s POV (continued)

Robin’s Snap

*some notes: anddddd we finally have eddie!! he won’t stir up drama i promise but he will show up and be a good friend like a +1 to these four.

also Steve is obviously lying to Robin, Jonathan does know that he is bi being Steve’s first and all.

and, i wanted to have Max be close to Robin through Steve and also know Nancy through Mike so she could kinda play the role of pushing the two together. I find it cute. Robin did came out to her before the summer of her freshman year.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy harrington #jonathan byers #stonathan #ronance #steve x jonathan #robin x nancy #butiknewyou

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andywinter16 · 11 months

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Disguised glaives saving their SO + Noctis retinue part. 1

“Glaives! We have a hostage situation that´s posing as diplomatical visit .” All the glaives quickly assembled in the main hall. “ Our targets are Prince Noctis and his whole retinue with Y/N Y/S.” Your glaive eyes were wide with a shock. “ Squadrons Delta and Omega, at 6 pm we´re rolling out with the Crownguard.” Titus turned to our glaives team. “ Squadron Alpha, you will infiltrate the banquet disguised as dancers. At my signal, we will make distraction for you to take them to the safety. Nelly, show them their disguises and brief them further. That is all.” Nelly signaled glaives to come with her. “ We have one hour to dress you, two and half hour to make you presentable and another three to teach you how to dance.” Nelly nonchalantly pointed on the other side. “ And those are the dresses you will wear.” Somebody behind her cursed. “You´re fucking kidding me ...”

This may be the biggest challenge in their carriers yet.

“ We want you to present Titussinia´s Company which hails from mysterious Galadh as they entertain us with their bewitching dances.” said Olvo Trigolas, one of the higher ups from Niflheim, the slimy man holding our group hostage. The lights were dimmed around them, and on the stage came the dancers. Wait a damn minute, your eyes almost fell off when your gaze lingered on one of the figures.

Nyx Ulric:

And there he was in the revealing black dress. Winking seductively your way when he moved his body in synch with the music. The dress was flowing with his movements, enchanting the audience in the proccess. Those Niff people touched him inaproprietly, when he slowly made his way to your table. Nyx internally cringed behing his veil at that. Just a few more minutes, he thought. He swayed in the crowd, till he finally get to you and occupants of your table. He went in to your lap to give you a dance and gave you little kiss through his veil while he whispered to your ear. “Be ready, in two minutes there will be hell raised.” He then flirtaiously winked at Prince´s retinue, yet his eyes were serious. No one would hurt them under his watch. He then turned to the Olvo Trigolas. Nyx put on more seductive moves, when he got closer to the man. The man in question was unsuspecting it will be his last breath. Nyx pulled our his scarf and wrapped it around the man´s neck in flirting manner. Until Nyx swiftly tightened the scarf and choked the man. Meanwhile around them started chaos. Someone threw smoke screens inside and other disguised glaives draw their weapons. He rolled his eyes at the retinue who was looking at him with awe. He also saw how you were checking him out in the drag, he would have teased you about it if the situation wasn´t dire. “I know, I slayed it in the outfit. Now, let´s go or you get killed!”

Luche Lazarus:

Grace. Beauty. Dignity, which was Luche lacking. His dress was pretty revealing and wasn´t much cooperating to his dismay. Every time he spinned or bended the dress showed more of the skin. And the catchcalling started, Luche wanted punch someone pretty hard. But he had to soldier on, he had mission for fuck´s sake. So he focused on you, his target. Even though he felt embarassed deep down to his core. Getting you and Highness out of there safely was still his number one priority. He could see Libertus and Axis creating distraction with their musical number. (Luche didn´t know that Libertus could sing opera that well. He noted for himself that he should tease the big man about it a little ... just a little) He quickly sticked to the shadows and went to the closer balcony. There were no guards, their comrades already disposed of them. Luche notices the black case which was tied with pink ribbon. Luche shaked his head, he knew exactly who did it and he would have a word with them. He fastly opened it and there was a new model of sniper rifle. Okay, maybe he can forgive them ... this time. “Aren´t you a beauty?” Luche cooed at the gun. He prepared the weapon almost giddily and went in the position. In the viewfinder he saw the ugly official Trigola drinking his wine. Luche pulled the trigger, and the gun silently fired. After that It was a utter chaos in which Crowe and Sonitus had to escort you out. Luche then shadowed your group and made sure no one tried to ambush you.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv kingsglaive #Disguised glaives saving their SO + Noctis retinue #part 1 #nyx ulric #luche lazarus #basically glaives doing drag show #warning #mentioned choking #dead #use of a gun to kill #Also I may rewrite it later

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eleni-cherie · 2 years

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lonely hearts club ✨ || kth au - chapter 0.3

“lonely hearts club // do you want to be with somebody like me?”

maybe single parents are meant to be members of the lonely hearts club.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: single parents au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

»»»

A sudden cry in the silent night made Taehyung sit up straight. Rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes, he threw the covers away and headed to Ari's crib. Seeing her sitting at the banisters, her binky laying on the ground as her little hands reached out to it. Tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. Sighing, he bent down to pick it up.

"Poor babygirl, did you bite it in two again?"

Now that she started getting little teeth, her binkies didn't last long. So he let it drop into the trashbin and got a new one from the drawer. Giving it to her. Ari instantly calming down. Looking at him with round eyes while sucking on it.

"What am I gonna do with you?" he tiredly smiled and picked the baby up. Wiping away her tears with his thumb as he carried her to his bed.

Usually she was a calm kid who let him sleep all night long the older she got. However, now that she was teething, it either hurt her or she bit through her binkies, making her cry either way. No matter if it was day or night. And it broke his heart seeing her suffer like this and being unable to do anything to ease the pain.

Thankfully, tonight it seemed like her binky had been the only problem though. So he sat down on the edge of his bed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. Browsing through his playlists until finding the right one. It was a collection of songs he had noticed were making her drawsy and sleepy. They weren't all exactly 'calm' songs, but he never put the volume too high, so they still worked.

As the first notes started playing, he began to rock her gently in his arms, from one side to another. Her chubby fingers were resting on his chest and he could feel the warmth radiating from her cheek. He caressed it with his finger. It was soft. As soft as velvet. And he watched her eyes slowly blinking shut when the second song started playing. Eventually staying closed.

He smiled proudly to himself. Continuing rocking her softly a little bit longer. Making sure she was indeed in deep slumber before even daring moving her to her bed.

When the third song ended, he slowly raised from the matrass. And with careful steps, returned her to her crip. Pulling the covers over her purple jumper. She looked so peaceful and content. He wanted her to stay like this forever.

Dragging a breath, he went back to his own bed and laid down. Not ready to switch off the lamp on the nightstand.

Sometimes it was hard. It was always hard to be honest, but sometimes it was harder than other times. He wondered if it was easier with a partner. It probably was. Or at least it should be. Having someone else to share the work with when they started crying and yelling or didn't want to eat their food or fall asleep.

But also to share the many nice moments with. Like when they smiled and laughed about seemingly nothing. Or when they discovered a new thing and looked at it with excitement. And when they clapped their little hands out of pure joy.

He was never supposed to be a single dad. He just somehow found himself in that situation and he wanted to believe that he was doing a pretty decent job. But he still lacked, he still learned. And it would have been nice if there was someone else with him on this.

»»»

Taehyung was running late. Very late. It was friday afternoon, he had just finished a marathon of classes, trying his best to keep his students focused despite it being friday afternoon and everyone only thinking about the weekend. Including himself.

He pushed open the familiar glass door, entering the daycare with a surprisingly calm expression. No one being able sensing his distress.

"Hey, is Ari ready?" he asked when seeing one of the nursery teachers who had just bid goodbye to another parent. "Well, hello. Yes, she's ready for you, Mr. Kim," the teacher, Rachel was her name as far as he remembered, said amused, "Wait a moment." She went back inside to go get her.

With a shaky breath, he looked at the colourful garlands out of paper stuck on the wall to pass his time. He heard the entrance door behind him opening, not paying much attention until a quiet laugh followed. "If I didn't know better I'd say you stalk me."

He turned around, seeing no other than Cassandra standing there. Smiling brightly at him. His lips curling into a smile as well when seeing her. "Since I was the first one here, I'd rather say you're the one stalking me," he countered then with an arched brow.

"Guess that's true. But I swear I am not!" she defended herself with another laugh when Rachel returned with Ari in her arms. Handing her over to him. "Oh hey, Cassie," she greeted when spotting her. Cassandra internally flinching at the nickname. "Give me a moment to get Izzy." And with that she disappeared again.

Adjusting his hold onto Ari, Taehyung glanced at his watch. "Well, we're kinda in a hurry so.. see ya!"

"Oh yeah, sure. Some important date?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not really, no.. I'm just meeting some friends after.." He thought for a moment. Squinting his eyes. "I can't even remember. Three weeks?"

"Three weeks is a long time," Cassandra agreed, "Have fun then."

As soon as he was gone from her eyesight, she exhaled deeply. Disappointment washing over her.

She had promised herself to muster up the courage this time and ask if he and Ari wanted to join them at the park. She had already laid everything out in her head. It had been the perfect plan, but of course the timing simply wasn't meant to be right that day. Like any other day as well. Maybe the universe was trying telling her to forget about whatever tiny hope she had for anything more than just an acquaintanceship to develop between her and him.

Having a teeny little crush on the friendly guy with the beautiful smile didn't mean she could befriend him after all. He most likely wasn't interested in befriending some random girl from daycare anyway. He looked like the type of guy who had enough friends anyway.

Rachel came back from inside with Isavella in her arms. Interrupting her self-pitying train of thoughts. "Here ya go," the brunette said and put the girl in her arms. "No stroller today?"

"I left it outside at the corridor, don't worry." No way in hell she would carry Isavella all the way to the park. She was getting heavier and heavier by the day after all.

"Ah, I see. By the way, may I ask you something?"

"Sure," Cassandra shrugged while brushing off a fuzz from Isavella's shirt. The baby shifting at that.

"You seem kinda close to that dad. You know, Ari's dad."

Cassandra frowned confused. When did they ever look close? "No, not really. We just greet each other. That's all.. Why?"

"Nothing. I was just curious. He's quite attractive and all."

Rachel was into him. Not that Cassandra was surprised. But still, she couldn't deny it was annoying her a little. She knew she wasn't exactly the common type of pretty, still had 1-2 kg over her normal weight left from the pregnancy - which would hopefully disappear soon with that workout she was forcing herself to go through - and her overall luck with men was non-existent.

And still, having another woman being interested in her crush, made her feel irrational. She coughed.

"Ah yeah, he's kinda cute I guess." Subconsciously pressing Isavella closer against her chest. "Anyway, we gotta go now," she said as she gave Rachel a polite smile.

She didn't leave her space to ask any further questions. After all, there wasn't as much behind their acquaintanceship as Rachel had assumed.

A sad smile ghosting over her lips as she put her daughter into the stroller. Perhaps she was simply meant to always have crushes on guys she couldn't have. Like her everlasting crush on the singer of her favourite band. Like a teenie. Some things apparently never changing. Or at least for her they never seemed to do so.

"At least I have you, right?"

The baby kicked her feet before sticking out her tongue. Cassandra taking that as a 'yes'. Contently pushing the stroller towards the exit.

Yeah, at least she had her.

»»»

next chapter: 0.4 here

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shelleysmary · 2 years

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the end of 8x02, morse and thursday having that chat on a bench, is so much because what thursday says about human nature and “you are what you are, whether you like it or not” seems kind of out of place within the context of their conversation about the girls in the blue films, how they’re somebody’s daughter and how they do and should matter. but then again, morse and thursday have conversations like these all the time. they don’t have regular heart-to-hearts - they run on subtext and tough love and small acts of service, but they don’t say what they mean exactly, and hardly ever at the right time.

it’s morse who can’t accept that he is what he is. he’s drinking more after violetta, but it isn’t about violetta at all. morse has always struggled with his own compassion, his sensitivity, and the feeling that he doesn’t quite fit in. and, as a result of not fitting in, morse believes himself to be barred from all those things that make everyone else happy. it’s self-sabotage, but it’s also the result of his upbringing, his experiences, and having this high-stress job where he is exposed to the worst of humanity on a regular basis. i remember him feeling so deeply for the people he encountered over the course of his investigations. and now he can sit on that bench and say he doesn’t care about girls like lynn parry (he’s lying). that people make bad choices and have to suffer the consequences (self-flagellation-by-proxy). and that it isn’t his job to feel for the victims, only to bring them justice. by saying “you are what you are” thursday is subtly calling his bluff. morse doesn’t need to shut down his compassion by drinking - he needs to find a way to cope with being morse.

which reminds me of s1 and thursday’s advice that he find something worth defending. morse says “music,” but what he really mean by that is beauty. in earlier seasons, even in the way the episodes were shot and the prevalence of music and his love of opera especially, there was so much more beauty to be found in morse’s world. he sought it, he found it in the subtlest of places, and it’s what carried him through even as he carried the painful baggage of his past - his mother, his father, his stepmother, his failed relationships with susan and joan, the feeling of never getting the good he deserves. but by s8, the presence of those things is all but gone. even when we see him listening to music now (rarely), it’s more in the background, either when he’s sloshed or running late or in a terrible mood - it is no longer something worth defending because morse, at this point, has lost all faith that anything is.

and yet, if we’re going by thursday’s view that you are who you are, whether you like it or not, underneath all that bitterness and disappointment and put-on nihilism is our same old endeavour morse - the romantic who loves poetry and wants to believe in the ideals of truth and beauty, who still holds them as holy. and in the end, that is morse’s tragedy - we love him. thursday chose him. he has friends who genuinely care about his happiness, but he sees none of it. the world he has created for himself in s8 is so narrow by design - the working and the drinking and the being short with everyone, both as a release valve and a means of keeping them at a distance, thereby confirming his own idea of being fundamentally unlovable... all of it is to keep from getting hurt again, without realizing that what he’s doing is hurting himself. or perhaps not caring that he is hurting himself.

up until now, it was sad seeing morse and knowing where life ends up taking him. catching glimpses of the deep-rooted sadness in a man who tries his best but never lets anyone in. there is something about this series specifically, though, and in the one that came before, that feels so bleak because he is often unrecognizable from the morse we met in the pilot. neither is he fully inspector morse. he’s in a miserable in-between, and i’m curious to see how - as the final series - s9 will choose to tie it all together.

#itv endeavour #endeavour #endeavour morse

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