#but i like this too much to make it a joke
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CRUEL BEYOND MY YEARS . . . you do the impossibleーyou make dazai feel. that’s why you’re his, you just don’t know it yet.
ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, chuuya is there too, so are oda and ango, jealousy & possessive behavior, some descriptions of depression & violence, 2.4k w.c.
EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING SERIES MASTERLIST
dazai knows he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.
he yawns, hands behind his head in a makeshift pillow, overgrown legs hanging off the arm of the couch as he stretches out. the heels of his shoes graze his jacket, haphazardly tossed aside when he first came into his office and laid down.
even with the sleep mask covering his face, blocking out the sun that pools into the top floors of port mafia’s headquarters, he knows it’s you who’s approaching his door.
he fights back a smile, something he rarely has the opportunity to do. he keeps his breathing steady and deep as he hears the familiar rhythm of your knuckles against his office door, knocking in a code. you both came up with it when you were younger, freshly sixteen against the hallow walls of his shipping container; your own shared secret. he hears the gentle creak of the old wood as you peek inside.
“dazai?” he hears the soft sound of your footsteps as you come closer, then a sigh he’d recognize anywhere. “dazai. take that thing off. it’s creepy.”
he remains still. he’s supposed to be asleep, after all.
“i see mr. executive is as busy as always,” you say sarcastically, but he can still hear the smile in your voice. you slip your thumb under the soft cotton padding of the sleep mask and slide it up his face, pushing his bangs back. the soft glide of your skin against his forehead leaves tingles in its wake, and it’s easy enough to ignore the burn of his one visible eye adjusting to the bright afternoon light when you’re hovering over him like an angel. “don’t you want to say goodbye to me?”
a new mission. he sighs exhaustedly, as if was the one who was assigned. “how long will you be gone this time?”
“not long, probably,” your hip presses against his as you sit on the edge of the couch. you rest your cheek on your hand, arm bridged over his stomach as your elbow props on the backrest. “chuuya got assigned to it with me. him and i make a good team.”
“you shouldn’t hang around him so much,” he tilts his head back. “you should be careful. he eats dog food, you know. he really is a dog, isn’t he?”
“shut up,” you laugh, and the sound makes his heartbeat quicken without his permission. “i know that isn’t true.”
“it is!” he sits up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes, his own shimmering with mirth. “i even saw him do it. you trust me, don’t you?”
you flick his forehead, giggling as you stand back up and straighten your skirt. “you’re just jealous you don’t get to come on this mission with us.”
with us? dazai swears he could be sick and die right there on the couch, as if there even was a ‘you and chuuya’. the thought alone makes him nearly double over in pain. if anything, it should be him you were paired up with, and if you asked for his opinion, it was a joke that you weren’t by defaultー even if little assignments like this were below him now that he’s an executive. no one else knew you as well as he did, and no one else ever would; besides, he’d known you longer than that stupid slug. mori’s negligence on the matter makes his stomach churn and his skin prickle uncomfortably.
“hey,” he grabs onto your jacket sleeve, where the cuffs are still a little too long and the fabric hangs over your wrists, before you can walk away. “be careful.”
you smile at him brightly, giving him a thumbs up, but it barely fazes him. he watches you leave, gaze dark and mouth firm. something bitter starts to crawl up his stomach, growing in his chest like thorned vines intertwining and tightening around his ribs.
when mori first introduced you and dazai to one another, you were both fourteen years old. the first thing he noticed when he saw you was that your clothing was too big, hanging awkwardly off your body. you’ve both grown since then, nearly identical black jackets and ties over white button-downs adorning your frames. the second thing he noticed was that you were different from him; he could tell from your eyes, bright and glistening.
he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t burdened by the feeling of looking through a window, always a spectator. you were different; you had a seat at the table. every bomb placed, every trigger pulledー you were there with him through it all, with the same fucked up feeling of adrenaline pounding through your veins, except you were attached to the world around you. you saw meaning in it somehow.
he wants to pick you apart piece by piece and study you under a microscope. he wants to understand just what it is about you that makes you so intriguing. what do you know that he doesn’t?
how are you making him feel this way?
he thinks about you on your mission, even when he tries not to. he flips through his paperwork lazily, pulling sheets from their stapled packets and folding them into origami shapes. he stares at his finger when he gets a paper cut on the edge of a report about some dispute in kyoto, watching the blood dribble down his skin in small beads. he raids the infirmary for chemicals, slipping past the nurses and picking the lock to the medicine cabinet, pocketing bottles and extra rolls of bandages. he plays on his handheld console, sighing in frustration when his character dies again; if only it was so easy.
it’s nearing the latest hours of the night when he decides to sneak into your office that he finds you again, back from your mission and chatting with chuuya, who’s arms are crossed as he leans against the edge of your desk. dazai skims his eyes over you, noting with satisfaction that there seem to be no new visible injuries on you. he relishes in how chuuya’s brows furrow when he sees him, and how yours rise in delight, cheeks rounding in a smile. he throws his arms around your shoulders, your faces close enough for him to count your eyelashes as you tilt your head back to look at him.
“i hope you didn’t have too much fun without me,” he pouts, squeezing you against his chest. “did you keep chuuya on his leash during your mission?”
“don’t talk about me like i’m not here, idiot.”
“oh, there you are,” he eyes the aforementioned man lazily, as if he were a bug that landed near him. “i almost missed you because you’re so small.”
“i fell asleep right after we were done,” you giggle. “chuuya had to carry me back.”
“oh?” he tightens his arms. dazai always thought you were the cutest post-mission, all sleepy and touchy; he always made sure he was around for those moments. “did he?”
you’re talking, something else about the mission, but he doesn’t listen. chuuya looks from you to him when he feels his gaze, eyebrow raising in a silent question. they screw up in irritation when dazai’s eyes narrow as his lips curl up into a cruel grin. he cranes his neck down, nose grazing your temple before he drags his tongue across your cheek.
“ew, dazai!” you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t go far, still clinging to you tightly. “what the hell? you’re so gross!”
he laughs in your ear, even as you try to pry his hands off his shoulders. you twist your hand around his wrist, tugging on it and glaring at him over your shoulder.
“let go, dazai.”
you’ve only ever looked at him like this when he woke you up in the middle of the night, knocking over one of your chairs after he broke into your apartment; you weren’t able to fall back asleep for hours, and when you finally woke up the next day, you realized he ate the last of the mapo tofu in your fridge.
he loosens his arms, stumbling when you shove him. the feeling of your hands pushing him away is nowhere near as warm as when you brushed his hair back earlier that day. there’s no pretty, warm smile dimpling your cheeks either; just your back retreating from your office, the sound of your door slamming shut, and chuuya’s annoyed glare prickling his skin. his chest tightens.
the flickering light of bar lupin’s sign penetrates the foggy night air, like a lighthouse calling lost ships home. ango and oda are already inside when dazai arrives. a cigarette dribbles loose curls of smoke into the air as ango cradles his glass between his palms and oda tilts his head back to sip his whiskey. the bar’s most devoted patron hops from dazai’s seat knowingly, landing on his little white paws as dazai sits down on the stool with a huff.
he rests his chin against his forearm, sighing into his elbow as the bartender places his usual in front of him wordlessly. the two older men look at the pouty pile of messy hair between them. oda knows he’s waiting for one of them to ask, so he does. “did something happen today, dazai?”
“yes,” he bounces the sphere of ice against the bottom of the glass, feeling his fingertip go numb. “she’s mad at me.”
“what did you do now?” ango eyes him wearily from behind his glasses.
“how rude,” he says flatly, his voice sounding hollow without his usual playfulness. “immediately assuming i’m at fault.”
“aren’t you always?” he sighs into the rim of his glass, taking a long sip.
they both wait in silence before dazai shoots up in his seat, his stool spinning slightly.
“how can that stupid slug touch what’s mine?”
“‘yours’?” ango asks, a thin eyebrow raised. “people don’t own other people.”
“i didn’t know you two were dating,” oda says.
“we’re not,” dazai sags back down, folding his arms and laying his head down so his eyes are level with his glass again. “that’s gross.”
“you’re not?” oda repeats. “…then why are you upset?”
he feels the bandages around his eyes loosen as he turns his head away, squishing his cheek into his elbow. the cat licks his paws across the bar, before reaching up and rubbing his little face. he catches dazai’s gaze, looking at him with big, round, unblinking eyes. his chest tightens again.
the sun is rising, melting the black of the night sky to gold when dazai arrives at your apartment. his hand freezes inside his pocket, fingers wrapped around his lock pick, glancing back to your door. he lets it go and knocks instead, beating his knuckles against the wood in your secret code.
you’re in your pajamas when you open the door, and he notes the bruise on your leg that was hidden under your work uniform. he looks at you like a lost puppy; ears down, eyes big, with his tail between his legs.
“hey,” your eyes dart along his body, and he knows you’re scanning him for injuries too. “you okay?”
he doesn’t reply, and you let him meekly slip past you into your apartment. your blanket is pooled on the floor from where you were sitting at your coffee table, chopsticks and a bowl of stir fry waiting for you; the schedule of a mafiosa has your circadian rhythm flipped, eating dinner as the sun rises.
“did you eat anything yet?” you ask him, sitting back on the ground.
his big brown eyes blink down at you emptily.
you open the side of your blanket expectantly, scooting over to make space for him. you nudge your food between the two of you when he sits beside you. his stomach flutters as he thinks about you feeding him from your chopsticks, a hand cupped under his chin, your soft thumb brushing his lips as you wipe them clean. he ignores it, plucking a shrimp out of your bowl with his fingers instead.
“you can have the rest,” you bundle the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, sighing softly as you lay your head down on his shoulder. “i made extra. i knew you’d come over.”
“you did?”
“mhm,” you rub your thumb along the edge of his bandages where his palm and wrist meet absentmindedly. “i know you.”
you do, scarily so. you like your stir fry spicy, but you kept it mild for him. because you knew he’d come over. because you knew he wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. because he only ever gets a home cooked meal when you make one for him.
“‘m sorry.” he mumbles, voice barely audible.
you tilt your head up and look at him, eyes heavy. he holds his breath as you lift your hand and cup his cheek, tracing the dark circle under his one visible eye with the pad of your thumb.
“let’s go to bed,” your voice is soft in the way it always is when you’re tired. “we can still sleep a little before we have to go back to headquarters.”
he knows every inch of your apartment, but he still lets you guide him into the dark of your room, and he’s suddenly surrounded by everything that is so quintessentially you. he has it all committed to memory: the title of the book on your nightstand you swear you’ll finish, the delicate splay of jewelry on your dresser, the pajama shorts hanging over the side of your hamper in the corner.
you practically collapse, falling into your bed and splaying your limbs with a happy sigh while he carefully lies down, staring at the ceiling and keeping his hands to himself. it’s after a few quiet moments when he feels something warm against him, and when he turns to look at you, his breath catches in his throat.
you’re so much closer to him than anyone else would ever dare to be. you curl towards him even in your sleep, like a sunflower growing towards the sun. your arm reaches towards his, fingers loosely clinging to his sleeve, as if you wanted to keep him anchored to the bed with you. he could almost make himself believe you really wanted him there.
he watches the daylight fall over your face, just as delicate as the sheet you draped over your body, still thin enough to show off the contour of your legs. you look so relaxed, cheeks full of color with the shadow of your lashes resting against them.
you looked so alive. so human.
his chest tightens.
BSD MASTERLIST
taglist . . . @little-miss-chaoss @almond-t0fu @yaeeko @annoyingpainterprincess @callm3-tash1 @janbannan @snowsilver2000
#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader#bsd x reader#dazai x you#bsd x you#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd imagines#dazai imagines#dazai fluff#bsd fluff
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The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.
"So," he says, finally.
"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–
"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.
"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.
"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.
"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.
"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.
"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.
"It was real," Xisuma says.
The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!
"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"
"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"
"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"
"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.
"No?" Xisuma says.
"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"
"Yes," Zedaph says.
"No," Xisuma says.
"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"
"Please don't," Zedaph says.
"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.
"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."
"That was ominous?" Joe says.
"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."
"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.
"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.
"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.
"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.
"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.
"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.
Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.
Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.
Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!
"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"
"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."
"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.
"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.
"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"
"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."
"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.
"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.
"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.
#hermitcraft#hermitfic#xisuma#joe hills#zedaph#stressmonster101#a bee fic#me vibrating at high speeds: WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES#the fact today is hermit-a-day-may xisuma day is coincidence i'm not doing it (although everyone should!)#but i figure it decent timing anyway
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can you do paige being jelly of you and kks rls (you and kk are just friends but paige claims “yall r too close”)
⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡.｡.:*✧ focus on me,,
paige bueckers x fem!reader
2 WEEKS AGO:
paige was just getting back from personal training, walking through the team’s dorm door and letting her shoes slide off her feet. she didn’t see anyone, but she heard the sound of kk’s screaming laughter. paige figured she needed to relax a bit, so she went to drop her bags off in her room and then go see what kk was up to.
as she walked closer to her teammates door, she heard the sweet sound of your voice. in any other situation it would’ve soothed paige, but here—coming from kk’s room, it didn’t.
your girlfriend pushed the door open gently, a light frown on her face upon observing you and kk. the two of you were laying on kk’s bed, phone screen in front of you both.
“hey guys.” your giggles ceased and your head turned, only to be greeted with paige’s unamused expression.
“oh! hi baby,”
“i thought you said you were working today?” you’re sitting straight now, looking up at paige from your position next to kk. your friend stays silent, pushing her hand over the phone’s microphone to muffle your conversation. she could sense the tension coming from paige and wasn’t really sure where this was going.
“they let me off early, really slow day.” you explain to your girlfriend, slightly shocked at the way she’s acting. you didn’t think on it too much though, assuming she was just fatigued.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“you were busy paige.”
it aggravates paige that you didn’t tell her, instead opting to spend your rare free time with kk. and paige wouldn’t say it out loud, but she was also jealous that you and kk went live without her. everyone said that the three of you were a trio.
“you guys went live without me?”
“it’s not a big deal, babe. we do all the time.”
6 DAYS AGO:
the team was on a ‘recreational team bonding field trip’ and everyone insisted you join, especially kk. you and the freshman had grown quite fond of each other, feeding off the other’s energy and enthusiasm. you were definitely the lives of the party.
you had been spending a lot of time with kk actually, which was starting to get to paige. she’d suggest a fun activity for the two of you to do, and you were always saying “kk should come too!”
paige really enjoyed having you here today, loving and admiring the way you fit in so perfectly with all her friends. even on the way here you were cracking jokes and making everyone laugh. she was thankful to have you, grateful for how receptive everyone is to having you around.
everyone had been hiking up the mountain for about an hour and a half, finally making it to the top. you rejoiced, high-fiving everyone around you. you motivated everyone undoubtedly. it made paige want to kiss you and she was about to— until kk jogged up to the two of you and pulled you away.
it was time to take the zip line down to the bottom of the mountain, something everyone was excited about (really their only good reason to come). everyone needed to pick a partner and paige didn’t even think twice about knowing you were hers. you were her girlfriend for christsake, she didn’t need to call dibs on you.
apparently she did though, cause kk claimed you as her partner instead. what upset paige the most was that you didn’t even say no. never saying “i want to be paige’s partner.”
that’s how paige ended up with nika, the two of them going last.
“if looks could kill..”
“what?” nika’s words drew paige out of her daydream, grounding her back in this moment she wishes wasn’t even happening.
“i saw the look you gave kk. why didn’t you say something?”
it was a good question really. why didn’t she?
suddenly paige remembers your and kk’s shared screams of joy going down the zip line. she remembers the way kk interlocked your hands and threw them up in the air like she was on a rollercoaster. like kk was your girlfriend.
“doesn’t matter. my girlfriend seemed to enjoy herself with another girl.”
“oh paige, don’t be like that. that’s just how kk is.”
when nika and paige made it to the bottom of the zip line it felt like five years had passed. you and kk had been the first to go, and paige had to wait ten minutes for everyone else to be done. upon making it back to ground, paige noticed ashlynn taking a picture of you and kk.
kk’s arm was around your shoulders as she leaned into you, a big stupid grin on her face. you were smiling too, not minding kk’s close proximity.
after being unclipped from the line paige walked towards you, trying to let her frustrations drain away so she could just enjoy the day.
“baby,”
“hold on- what kk?”
2 DAYS AGO:
the team had been back from practice for a few hours now, everyone just relaxing and doing their own thing. paige really wanted to take this reprieve to spend alone time with you, becoming increasingly aware that you hardly ever got a moment to yourselves.
but of course, her plans changed when kk asked to play video games with you at your apartment. you said yes, now sitting on your couch with kk playing COD while paige sulked in another room. you hadn’t realized she was sulking, just thinking she was tired and went to take a nap.
about an hour into playing, your girlfriend came padding out of your bedroom and into the living area. you were too distracted and paige was too childish, quickly unplugging the power cord to the TV without either you or kk noticing.
“NOOOO!”
“WHAT HAPPENED??”
“bro your tv is broken,”
“you probably broke it-“
paige’s voice cut through the air like a knife, bringing both you and kk back into reality. you’re both staring at her wide-eyed with mouths agape.
“well, looks like you gotta go home kk, playing video games there.” paige is fake shrugging like she too is disappointed in the circumstances. you’re squinting and suspecting of her tone but it quickly vanishes.
“TRUE, we can go to the dorms and play girl boo!”
paige’s shoulders shrink, watching as you gather your shoes and keys. her plan backfired on her almost instantly.
“maybe we can just stay here babe? i can help you fix the tv,”
“i’ll fix it later p. you comin?”
CURRENT DAY:
paige was beyond excited. was.
she had gone out of her way to plan a nice dinner for you, trying to cook up something nice. she had even printed out a recipe and followed it step-by-step. she went to the store to get you flowers, bought a new dvd to add to your collection, and even wrote you a little love letter.
you told her you’d be getting off by 5:30. it was now 6:43. she was certain the food was cold and stale by now, not worth eating. she had to blow out the candles she lit at the table because the wax started dripping onto the wooden surface. paige was almost finished with her homemade cocktails she learned how to make just for tonight when you walked through the door. finally.
“hey baby!” you hadn’t looked up yet, kicking off your shoes and shrugging your jacket down your shoulders.
“where’ve you been?”
you finally looked up, letting your surroundings sink in along with the instant guilt. you had no idea she was planning anything.
“i was doing this thing with kk-“
at the mention of her friend’s name again paige aggressively pushed her drink away and stormed off. you stood there dumbfounded for a second before quickly following behind her, having to jog to keep up with her pace.
“paige? what’s wrong?”
“what’s wrong?! i think if you mention kk one more time im going to lose my mind. all you do is hang out with her. like i’m not even here. y’know, i planned this whole night because i wanted to spend quality time with you. but instead of wanting to come home to me, you go to kk?!”
“paige i didn’t know you-“
“and y’know what?! i’m tired of you prioritizing her. i’m your girlfriend. not kk. me! you’re too close with her..” she’s silent for a moment and you let her words linger in the air. “jus want you to focus on me.”
her head is hung low and saying it out loud almost makes her feel selfish. but you understand her, you consider her words and realize she’s right.
you have been spending a lot of time with kk. and in turn, you sacrificed precious time with paige to do so. it crushes you now that you know, and you suddenly wish you could go back and time. a few stray tears roll down your girlfriend’s face, landing on her favorite button up. she picked it for this special occasion. just for you.
you peak your head out to the kitchen, soaking in the decorations and the ghost of paige’s effort to make this night amazing for you. a frown settles deep on your features when you realize you’re ruining this night for her.
“paige, i love you so much. unbelievably so. i’m so sorry, please let me make it up to you while we enjoy the meal you made.” you’re almost pleading with her, wiping her few tears away and cradling her fragility. she nods, a weak smile adorning her face as she looks at you.
the dinner had been amazing and paige swears you told her that about a million different times. she liked it though. your reassurance and affirmations let her know that you cared about her more than anything else.
“i love you paigey.”
“not kk?”
“not kk.”
“good, i love you too”
“wait- you were just jealous-“
“shut up.”
┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄
YALLLLLLL
idk 😋
#paige buckets#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x reader#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball
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The villains are utterly confused.
They remember the first robin. They remember how bloodthirsty the little gremlin was, how he appeared out of the darkness with a “HIYA FOLKS” that gave people near heart attacks with PTSD so bad they flinched everytime they walked into a dark corner. They remember his grin, baring few too many teeth with a glint in his eyes whenever the bat wasn’t around to curb him. They remember the death stare, the brooding that made no one doubt this was the Bat’s son. They remember how a punch would land a lot harder than it was supposed to, or the screaming that followed. Oh they remembered him alright.
The second one thank the stars was better. The second robin was giggly. He would hop around town, offering his help to everyone who needed it. Sure he was rough with abusers but hell no one cared about them. Matter of fact, the villains were glad because those assholes deserved no sympathy. They remember his puns, his wonder, his innocence and his spark. They remembered his laughter, his concern - the kind that only comes from one who’s been on the streets. This one was better, and the villains thanked their lucky stars. They remembered him alright.
But now, as the years passed and new characters emerged, the crime city saw the rise of two characters - a sunshine happy nightwing and a ready to kill red hood. And naturally, from their experiences in the past, the villains ended up making an honest mistake that ruined the two vigilantes’ reputation:
The villains assumed the first robin was Red Hood and the other was Nightwing. And BY GOD Gotham has not seen unhinged chaos like this.
SCENE 1
Red Hood *drawing his pistol* : Please, reach for your weapon. I’m itching for an excuse for my intrusive thoughts to become extrusive.
Two-Face: You dare mock me little bird?! Well.. I may not have my weapon.. but I have something I know you’d like..
Red Hood: Oh yeah?What’s that?
Two-Face: TAKE THIS! *slams button and coconuts start falling from the sky, all cracking and spilling as they hit the ground*
Red Hood:
Two-Face:
Red Hood: .. the fuck was that supposed to do?
Two-Face: .. HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?! YOU HATE COCONUTS ROBIN!!
Red Hood: The fuck- .. wait did you call me robin?
Two-Face *grins* : Yea.. robin. The first one. Thought I didn’t notice?
Red Hood: The first one? Does this *gestures vaguely to himself and his weapons* seem like something the first robin would do?
Two-Face:
Goon 1: I mean.. yeah
Red Hood: What! The first robin was nice!
Goon 2 *guffawing*: I beg your fucking pardon??
Two-Face: .. you took my coin and attached a magnet beneath it so everytime I flipped it it wouldn’t stop spinning. Do you know how long that took me to figure out?? Do you know how insane it drove me?? Joker had to help me out of pity. OUT. OF. PITY.
Red Hood:
Goon 1: ..Also you did steal some of our bones
Red Hood: hedidfuckingwhatnow-
SCENE 2
Nightwing: Hey there buddy! You look frostyl!
Dr. Freeze: Aha! You are too late to stop me robin!
Nightwing: .. robin?
Dr. Freeze: why yes! Don’t act coy, I know it’s you there. Now that we’ve got that clear.. I was wondering if you remembered all those years ago when you gave me a source for electricity to power a hospital keeping my Nora?
Nightwing:
Dr. Freeze: well you weren’t careful enough and never told me how much I could take from it.. so I used it to power so many of my inventions that came after
Nightwing *remembering when Jason was robin and every damn time he came to visit Wayne Manor his room would always run out power and the countless cold showers in freezing winters he had to take because of it*: .. oh? Well, sorry to break your bubble, but that wasn’t me Elsa.
Dr. Freeze: no? You joke around, make puns and I’m supposed to believe it’s NOT you?. The first one brooded like there was no tomorrow. He pissed me off so bad once I overheard him saying his favourite ice cream flavour and I made sure it wouldn’t be available in Gotham for YEARS. You’re not as bad as the first one. I’d remember if you were him.
Nightwing:
Nightwing *firing up his escrima sticks to maximum voltage*: Oh let me jog your memory then :)
#batman#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#tim drake#batfam#bruce wayne#damian wayne#headcanons#dr freeze#robin!dick grayson#robin!dick#robin!jason todd#robin!jason#joker#batbrothers#batfam headcanons#two face#Harvey sent
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So, I’m going to reblog my heteronormativity post with some more stuff when I get the energy to compile it all (thank you to everyone who has shared thoughts!!!)
But in the meantime I am just kind of putting together how. Unfortunately kind of funny and terrible it is that the ancient magic that Lycion uses to be a transgender werewolf doesn’t seem to be related to demons literally at all, but is still illegal?? Like imagine if 2000 years from now it was against the law to take T bc it was used in the same time period as nukes.
#elves accidentally transphobic by way of casting too wide of a net w their info suppression#joking aside it does genuinely suck and also make me wonder how much of the info they suppress is like. ancient health care practices.#of all the canaries I feel like Fleki and Lycion are the most shit on by the system.#drug addict who probably got addicted from her work & werewolf guy who used ancient magic - completely unrelated to demons - to treat#to treat his dysphoria#the system sucks!!! it sucks!
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~ Thoughtless ~
Somehow you feel it. Maybe you're just letting things get to your head, but maybe. Just maybe.
Malleus is in love with you.
How can you not think that, when he comes by to see you almost everyday, or when he sometimes finds himself thoughtlessly tucking a stray hair away from your face. When his hands would naturally find their way to rest on your hip while you're busy baking something, and he would curiously watch from behind?
So when he carelessly lays his head on your lap one lazy afternoon, you find yourself blurting out "I think I'm in love with you." Just as naturally as is his intimacy is towards you.
He doesn't speak. Doesn't even laugh. He just thoughtlessly pulls you down and, clumsy and mismatched as they are, lets your lips wordlessly do the talking.
You're over the moon. How could you not be, when a person you thought was beyond your reach is hopelessly in love with you just as you are with him? You'll be spending your time as a couple from now on. Going on romantic dates together, greeting each other first thing in the morning, getting to know each other in a much, much more familiar depth. Maybe even considering... marriage.
There's an infinite things that you want to do with him. So many things that make you happy. You're happy.
... Until...
"I wonder what bouquet my betrothed prefers for our coming wedding?"
You overhear him as he strolls with Lilia.
Betrothed? As in, someone you promised to marry? He did say wedding.
What the hell.
He's already engaged to someone? And he still kissed you so passionately like that? All along, he was already meant to marry somebody else while he's fooling around touching you here and there, kissing you and pecking you and hugging you and... Is that why he didn't say he loved you when you confessed? He's just leading you on because he's bored?
That son of a--
Tears. Ugly tears. You scream furiously and cry miserably as you strangle and punt and wrangle your poor pillow at Ramshackle. Your best friends watch silently while they try to coax you with your favorite food and your favorite zero-substance comedy film. It works. Your mood lightens.
Until they go home, and he barges into your home with grin you wanted to sucker-punch off his ugly, cheating, demonic, monstrosity of a lying face.
"Why are you here?" You spit out.
His thick, slimy skin couldn't taste the venom in your words.
"Good evening," he giddily greets as he walks over to you-- almost prancing for god's sake, "I was wondering. What type of flowers do you like?"
"The hell are you on about? You think you can keep stringing me around? I'll fuck you up."
"Careful. I am exercising a deep self-restraint out of respect for you. But if you keep playing with me like this, telling jokes about 'fucking me'-- as people say nowadays-- I might truly end up debauching the sanctity of marriage."
You leer at him. What the hell is he yapping about?
"Fuck?"
He sits on the sofa beside you; as graceful as he always seems to be. No, actually. He sits as ugly as a bridge troll. "I see you are impatient. Truth be told, I am too. But we best wait until after graduation, at least. So before then, I would like to ask: what flowers would you prefer for our wedding? I rather wish to grow them myself."
"Our wed--"
And it clicks in your head.
'My betrothed.'
'What flowers would you like?'
'Our wedding.'
It's you. The betrothed is you.
You almost laugh out loud. Out of the silliness of it all, out of embarrassment perhaps, even out of relief. This guy. God, this guy. What a careless, thoughtless, whimsical, nonsensical, brainless guy. But somehow,
"I like wisteria."
It's just, so naturally, him.
"The flowers in full bloom when we first met."
#wrote a one shot short shot while on break#twisted wonderland#ventique rambles#malleus draconia#malleus x reader
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so american | rutger mcgroarty
word count: 1.35k
summary: on your way to the spend a weekend at the lake house with his teammates, you think about your future with rutger
warnings: british reader!, mentions of some other umich players (nick, duke brothers), brief sad thoughts
notes: based on 'so american' by olivia rodrigo. who am i if not writing fics based on songs.
The morning sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue on Rutger’s jeep that rumbled down the highway, its tires humming against the asphalt. Rutger sat in the driver's seat, his left hand holding a loose grip on the wheel, while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat, your feet were propped up on the dashboard. Rutger insisted you hit the road early to get to Jacob’s lake house around mid-morning. You felt that was a little too early, but he was excited to spend some spare time at the end of the semester with his friends and girlfriend, relaxing on the water. To make up for the early start time, Rutger bought you an iced coffee and promised that you could sleep in the car on the way over.
However, you couldn’t find yourself able to fall back asleep, instead taking over aux, the early morning air that flowed through the cracked windows helping to rejuvenate you. You tapped your fingers against the door handle, matching the beat of the song you’d selected. Dirt On My Boots by Jon Pardi filled the space, a contented smile gracing your lips.
“You’ve turned so American.” Rutger says, pulling your brain out of its brief daze.
“What?” You ask, your brows furrowing.
“I mean… look at you,” Rutger says with a chuckle. “You’re sitting there with your feet on the dash, you’re listening to country music, and you’re repping USA merch.”
Rutger motions to one of his hoodies that you’d thrown on as you were leaving. It was one given to him by the world juniors team he’d just played on, the letters U-S-A largely displayed on the chest.
You turned to him, adjusting your position in the seat. "Oh, please, don't say that. I'm still very much British, thank you very much." You retort, rejecting the idea that you’d become American in any way.
When you applied for an exchange to the University of Michigan, nothing could’ve prepared you for what would’ve come. On your first day of classes in the new country, you met Rutger. When a pretty girl sat next to him in one of his classes, he knew he had to talk to her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to develop feelings, Rutger soon being the ‘dreamy American’ that your friends had jokingly told you you’d fall for. And fall for him you did.
It was unfair of Rutger to make you feel this much when you both knew your future was uncertain.
“Hey, there is nothing wrong with being American.” Rutger points out.
“Yeah says the American.” You tease, rolling your eyes. “Thank god I’m going home soon. I need to reconnect with my roots if you think I’ve become American.”
Despite that being a joke, you couldn't shake the underlying sadness that gnawed at you. In just one week, you were leaving Michigan and returning to the UK. The thought of leaving Rutger and the life you’d established in Michigan weighed heavily on your heart. You knew that the bond you’d established with Rutger would withstand the miles and borders, however the prospect of being separated from him felt like tearing away a piece of you.
Rutger, sensing the shift in your demeanour as well as knowing that the inevitable move was weighing on you, reached over, taking your hand in his. His cold fingers lacing between yours quickly drew you back to reality.
“Hey,” He said softly. “Try not to think about it for now. Enjoy this weekend. We’ve got ages to figure it all out.”
You squeezed Rutger’s hand drawing comfort from his touch. With a gentle smile, you met his gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Rut.” You said softly.
Rutger returned your smile, turning his attention back to the road while keeping your hand in his. You continued the drive, doing your best to expel the thoughts of leaving from your mind.
Three hours later, Rutger pulled down a laneway that ultimately led to a large house on the water. Rutger’s teammates were already outside, eagerly awaiting your arrival.
“Hey guys!” Rutger called out as they stepped out of the car. Rutger’s teammates come over, greeting the two of them.
“This place is beautiful.” You comment, admiring the glimpse of the water you could see past the house.
“God, I will never get over the accent.” Nick said. Rutger shoved his shoulder while you playfully rolled your eyes.
You considered yourself lucky that you’d become friends with Rutger’s teammates. From the moment Rutger introduced you to them, they’d welcomed you with open arms. And as you spent more time with them, they weren’t just Rutger’s teammates, they were your friends as well.
“Alright, now go get changed, we’re hitting the water.” Luca said, ushering the two of you inside.
You headed up to your room, changed into the swimsuits you’d brought, and then headed downstairs to meet the rest of the group. The rest of the afternoon, you guys remained on the water. You all took turns on the tube, as well as some of the boys deciding to test their water skiing skills. When the sun began to descend towards the horizon, a golden hue being cast on the water, you headed back to the house to start dinner, which was a full team activity in which everyone was put to work doing something. You and Rutger were put in charge of the barbecue on the back patio, teaming up with Dylan and Tyler to grill the burgers and corn.
After dinner was demolished, you headed down to the fire pit, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, talking about whatever came to mind. The flames cast flickering glows on everyone's faces as you discussed sports, your exams, and random childhood anecdotes whether relevant or not. After a while of drinking and chatting, both you and Rutger hit your limits and decide to call it a night.
The second that Rutger’s head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light, the day’s activities catching up with him. After a full day of tubing and waterskiing, combined with the drinks they’d consumed throughout the day, everyone was wiped. You, however, lay awake, the moonlight reflecting off the water and into the open window.
You traced your fingers through Rutger's hair, watching his bare chest rise and fall with steady breaths. With the tranquillity of the room enveloping you, you find yourself lost in a maze of thoughts, your mind swirling with visions of Rutger and the future they could share.
England was home. England was where you grew up, where your family and friends still resided. The thought of leaving them to be in North America made your heart tense. However, lying in the sheets and staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but imagine moving to North America to be with Rutger. As you look over at him, still peacefully asleep, you imagine the prospect of uprooting your life for the American boy you fell in love with, of bridging the distance to be with Rutger.
Your thoughts continue to wander, picturing what could come of life in America with Rutger. Your mind entertains the notion of marriage, a distant yet possible milestone. That might be a little presumptuous of you, with your relationship still being in its infancy, but you practically couldn’t help it. The way he’d made you feel in the past 8 months was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Every moment with him felt like a moment torn from a romance book. Every moment with him was filled with laughter and stolen glances, creating an undeniable intimacy and connection.
You had to eventually force those thoughts out of your mind or else they would’ve kept you up all night. You rolled over, curling into Rutger’s side, and placing a delicate hand on his abs. Rutger stirred momentarily, instinctively wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer. For now, you were content to simply be in this moment with him, cherishing the time you had left before you had to return home.
#rutger mcgroarty#rutger mcgroarty imagine#rutger mcgroarty x reader#nhl#nhl imagine#hockey#hockey imagine#umich hockey#umich#university of michigan
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I want you back... | L. Nr
pairing : lando norris x f!reader
summary : you and lando had broke up a few months ago and you're just now moving on. Or so you thought... 'Cause that was before he decide to text you.
genre : fluff, slightly angst ?
warning : cursing, pretty sure that's all
a/n : I just loooove writting about lando. This is kinda shitty but it was fun to write hope you'll enjoy it ! Anyways taking request if you want.
You were fine, of course the break up has been really tough for you but now you could say it loud and proud : you were over it.
What a lie...
All it took was a damn text for your world to fall into piece again.
"Hey"
It was 3 AM when you screen lit up, and now that single word was making you completly crazy.
What the hell ? Why would he be texting you ? Maybe a wrong number ? Was he drunk ?
Your head was just a huge mess at the moment, that's probably because of that that you decided to answer. You clearly wouldn't have if you were in your plain consciousness.
At least that's what you were trying to convinced you.
"Hey" You text back.
"It's been a while" He answered in less than a minute.
"WTF lando ?" You couldn't help but send, this wasn't making any sense.
He was the one to broke up with you, and he hadn't even try to contact you the past months. Why would he texts you ? And why now when you were finally moving on ?
"I miss you"
You had turn off your phone after this text.
Like what were you supposed to say ? That you too you were missing him ? That in fact you were missing him so damn much it was hurting you ? That you were missing him so bad that sometimes you were calling your male friends by his name ?
You just couldn't answered that.
You were having lunch with your a few friends, yet the text just wouldn't leave your mind.
You had basically stared at it the whole morning.
"Hey, you're okay y/n ?" One of your friend asked.
"Oh yeah sorry I was just lost in my thoughts" You tried to brush it off, chuckling a little.
"You seem a bit off today, no offense but we've barely heard you" Another one of your friend spoke with a concern look on her face.
They were all nodding, as you sighed.
You should probably just told them, theywere your closest friends and it's not like you could keep that to yourself anyway.
"Lando texted me" You blurted out looking down.
A loud silence followed your confession as you saw all their eyes widened in shock.
"I'm sorry WHAT ?" One of them finally spoke.
"Lando in like LANDO ?" Another continued.
And they all followed, throwing questions at you.
You showed them the conversation, way easier and they all gasped at the last text.
"What are you gonna do ? You should probably block him" Your friend said, they seemed tp all agree.
"Yeah I should do that" You nodded.
They were probably right, that was the best things to do. They were the one who had picked you up piece by piece when Lando broke up with you.
You were gonna do just that, blocked him and he would be out of your life forever.
God you were so weak.
When you went home and were about to block him another text illuminated your screen.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, you're not mad are you ?"
You swear your fingers had just moved on their own.
"I'm not mad, I was just busy sorry" You replied, and you knew you had fucked up, that needed to stop and yet you were encouraging him.
"I'm so relieved to hear that ! How you're doing ?"
Damn why was he answering so fast.
"Just casual life nothing too entertaining, you ?"
"Pretty much the same"
It was gonna be fine, it was a simple discussion between two young adults. Nothing to worry about.
"The paddock feels empty without you" He added.
Shit. This wasn't fine at all.
"Is that so ?" You were kicking your feet like a damn teenager.
"Yeah, can't win a race without you" You knew, and he knew this was border, but to be honest you weren't caring at all.
"Can't win a race at all" You joked, you were giggling. God you've missed talking to him, even for simple discussion like that.
You shouldn't felt that way, or you were gonna end up sad again, but you couldn't help it.
"OFFENSIVE" He texted back, but you knew he was laughing.
You and Lando kept talking for hours, you were smiling at your phone like a maniac.
He was such a good talker, smooth, funny, full of charm.
He knew how to annoy you and how to make you laugh the most. He also knew how to hurt you the most.
You were currently laying in bed, watching 'pretty woman' when you got another text from your ex boyfriend.
"I really do miss you tho"
Here you were again, staring at the screen like it contained the answer to the greatest mystery on earth.
"Lando, stop that please" You eventually texted back after a few minutes.
"That what ?"
"That thing that you're currently doing, trying to make me pity you"
"Is it working ?"
"Lando..."
"Cmon y/n I'm serious, I fucking miss you, every minute of every day"
You were no longer paying any attention to the movie that was still playing on the screen of your laptop.
"YOU chosed to broke up" You remembered him.
"I know I made a damn mistake, and I'm sorry"
"You know what I don't even want to talk you anymore"
"Y/n don't do that"
"I should have blocked you already"
"But you didn't"
You were infuriating, completly messed up by too many emotions at the same time, you were sad, and angry against him, and against you too cause you were so weak for this man.
He was right, you didn't.
"Babe please, I just want you back" He sent you a few minutes later since you weren't answering.
"Should have thought about that sooner, and don't call me that"
"I'd do anything" He insisted.
"Claim me on TV and I'll think about it" You texted saracstically before turning off your phone.
You and lando had never been public, because fans could be crazy at some times and you were finding it absolutly ridiculous to brag on social media that you were in a relationship.
That's why you had said that, that wasn't making anysense. Maybe now he'll understand that this was definitly over.
Or so you thought.
When you woke up your phone was blowing up with notification.
A lot of demands on instagram and hundreds of texts from your friends.
You were so confused until you clicked on the link your friend had sent you.
It was an interview of Lando that he hade just done but the views were already so high. Why would she send you that ?
Everything become clear when right before ending the interview Lando spoke :
"Actually I want to say something before leaving, I used to date a girl Y/n Y/l/n, she was amazing but I messed up with her cause I was a complete idiot... So if you're ever seeing this please come back, I know I've been an asshole. But I really want you back"
What.
In.
The.
World.
Was.
Happenning.
You grabbed your phone and dialed his number immediatly... No answer.
"What have you done ???" You tyepd agressively on your keyboard completly freacked out.
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u said 2 do ur worst for shy!r so…. steve and reader go to the hawkins snowball dance and a slow song comes on and its a uber romantic song (i’m talking taylor swift type romance) and steve ofc asks r to dance… she’s super shy so she keeps looking at the floor but then steve does the thing where you lift the other persons chin up so they’re looking into ur eyes… if u wanna elaborate on this :)
i changed this up a wee bit, but i hope u like it! — when steve is finally crowned prom king, all he can think about is getting a dance with his (sorta) secret girlfriend (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.2k)
Steve abandons his crown and scepter somewhere between the bleachers and the snack table. The thought of finding you is far more important than the chunks of plastic they give him.
The cold breeze of the early evening cools his warm cheeks, flushed red from the adrenaline and the alcohol. He finds you sitting on the wooden bench outside the gymnasium, pretty and all alone. The skirt of your fairy-tale dress billows around your calves. Elbows digging into your thighs, you prop your chin on your fists and pout softly beneath the pale moonlight.
You’re the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. The saddest, too, maybe.
“Been looking for you,” he says to announce his presence. The lopsided smile on his face is audible. You know it’s dancing on his pink mouth before you ever turn around to face him.
He’s a pretty thing in a sleek tux. Boyishly handsome. Sort of like he’s playing dress-up. The thought almost makes you smile.
“Sorry,” you apologize in a mousy voice, blinking up at him with sparkly, made-up eyes when he looms over you. “It got… really loud in there…”
“Well, Tommy spiked the punch, so… It was kinda inevitable,” Steve jokes with a lazy shrug, even though he isn’t really joking.
He watched the idiot steal his dad’s best liquor from the high-up cabinet two hours ago. The Hawkins High class of ’85 got drunk on it in record time. The school pulses with life accordingly. The brick behind you threatens to shake with it.
Your nose scrunches. “Is that why it tasted like gasoline?”
“Probably,” Steve grins.
He huffs and sits at the spare spot next to you. The old bench creaks in protest. He takes his first good breath all night when he’s finally alone with you. The fresh air and your perfume fill his lungs, smoother than silk. There’s a subtle euphoria and a distant nostalgia between it all.
He’s spent years chasing this feeling. He thought maybe being crowned prom king would solve all his problems. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. ‘Cause you did.
“You coming back inside?”
Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you ponder the question. “I don’t know… Probably not.”
Steve’s freshly shaven face swirls with visible confusion. He loves a party — especially when he’s the life of it — so it’s hard for him to comprehend how other people don’t. Even though he knows, more than anyone else, that you’re made of something much more delicate than that.
“Why not?”
“Prom’s not really my scene, Steve,” you answer with a scoffed-out laugh.
He flashes you a crooked smile in return, painted silver in the moonlight. His cologne swaddles you in its musk when he leans over to nudge your shoulder. “You promised me a dance, remember?”
Your soft features harden into a frown. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, c’mon! You know you wanna dance with me,” he protests through a poorly bitten-back laugh.
“Why?” you press, meeting his beam with a lighthearted scowl. “So all your friends can laugh at me?”
“Screw ‘em! They’re assholes— who cares?”
“I care. ‘Cause you’re not the one they’re laughing at, King Steve.”
You spit the stupid nickname with playful venom in your tone, but Steve can’t help but smile at it, anyway. He’s a week away from graduating, halfway employed, and Hawkins High’s reigning prom king. It’s all slightly maddening — especially now that he’s got you.
He wonders if you applauded when he won that stupid crown. If you laughed at him about it, or if you were strangely proud. He’ll ask you about it later. After he gets that dance.
“Let ‘em laugh,” he shrugs.
You shake your head, averting your gaze with a sad smile. You wish it were that easy.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” you tell him as the heavy bass inside the school starts to slow. Through the high-up frosted windows, you hear Girls on Film fade into Never Tear Us Apart.
“Sorry for wanting to dance with my girlfriend,” he teases to ease the tension. It comes out more serious than he intended, though, ‘cause he is sort of sorry. Nothing about your two worlds exactly meshes — yet here he is, still hopelessly trying to tangle them together.
You know this, so you sigh. “Sorry for not being prom queen,” you joke back, only partly serious. You blink at him with a pair of twinkling eyes — slightly smudged with mascara. The sparkles of your eyeshadow glint when they catch the moonlight.
“Don’t want you to be prom queen,” Steve confesses softly, smiling at you somehow softer. “I like you the way you are right now.”
You get a warm, tingly feeling in your stomach. It wells up your chest and into your throat until you feel like you might cry.
You roll your eyes at him when they start to burn, laughing softly to distract from the overwhelming feeling. Your gaze flits to the velvet night sky, speckled with twinkling stars, until you get the courage to look back at the boy beside you. His face glitters with something hopeful.
You swallow hard and ask, “You still want that dance or what?”
Steve glows with a boyish excitement. “Yeah! Are you kidding? Of course, I do.”
“Out here, though,” you tell him when he rises from the bench.
He smiles at the stern look in your delicate eyes. “Why? You ashamed of me or somthin’?” he jokes, as if he wasn’t named just prom king.
You stand before him with your arms crossed over the pretty corset of your dress. You bite back a smile. “I just wanna spend time with my boyfriend without it being on the cover of The Weekly Streak tomorrow,” you confess.
“Fair enough,” Steve nods, smoothing his wide hands over your sides.
Yours are much less confident. They tremble with a misplaced worry as they spread over his shoulders. Your fingers fidget on the satin lapels of his expensive suit. His longer ones guide you back and forth, swaying you gently to the slow beat of the muffled song.
—Don’t ask me, what you know is true…
Don’t have to tell you, I love your precious heart—
You get lost in it all before you mean to. The warmth of having him so close, swaddled in his big hands and deep cologne.
His honeyed gaze hasn’t yet wavered from you, but you don’t have the heart to meet it. He’s looking at you like he loves you. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re the fucking prom queen.
You don’t feel particularly deserving of any of it.
“Are you still having fun?” you ask with a scrunched nose, visibly riddled with feelings of inadequacy. You still haven’t quite figured out why he’d rather be out here with you than inside with everyone else — with Vicki Carmichael, the actual prom queen.
“Loads,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His hands squeeze reassuringly at your hips as he flashes you a crooked grin. “It’s not even a question, honestly. I’d choose you over those schmucks in there any day of the week.”
He nods his slicked-back hair to the pulsing brick a few feet away. A few gelled chestnut strands drape over his forehead. You fight the urge to push them back.
“Really?” you squeak with your pretty face, all dolled up, twisted with an innocent look of confusion.
You have no idea how beautiful you are, Steve thinks to himself.
“Yeah,” he nods, grinning wide and wearing all his adoration on his chiseled, golden face. He could hide it if he tried. “Tommy Hagan isn’t nearly as pretty to look at.”
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader#steve harrington imagine#stranger things imagine#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble
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ONLY BOUGHT THIS DRESS SO YOU COULD TAKE IT OFF
— alastor + vox + adam’s fashion preferences on their significant other. gn!
— alastor
alastor finds anything that compliments your figure to be gorgeous. he can’t be upset when you’re confident in yourself.
though, if you’re really asking, he can’t be dishonest, can he? he adores formal wear. cocktail dresses, suits, waistcoats, gowns, the way they hold a certain elegance is something that just can’t be matched.
the way they hug your waist is simply too attractive, all he wants to do is eat you up. a beautiful sight like you would most definitely be a feast. not that he was thinking of eating you!
true, it’s not the most practical of clothes to be worn on the daily— but, it’s still a delectable treat once in a while.
“sweetheart, are you ready?” alastor asks, knocking on the door. “we must hurry, the opera waits for no one!” he laughs as he opens the door. and when he does, he is pleasantly surprised to see the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight.
the way formal wear compels you to carry yourself with poise and confidence is something that simply makes you all the more attractive to him.
“my, my! look what the cat dragged in!” alastor joked. “you look ravishing, dear. are you ready?” he asked. he walked over to you as he took hold of your hips, running his claws up and down the fabric and silently admiring your figure.
“mhm!” you nodded. “lovely.” he grins, holding his cane in one hand, and wrapping his arm tightly around your waist in the other.
as you walked, there was something off about alastor. he truly did hide it well, but there was definitely something bothering him.
his breath, quiet as ever, was heavy and reeking of desire. and, his body temperature was off the charts, as if he had been running a fever.
“alastor, are you alright?” you looked to your side. “of course, i am! simply excited for the show, that’s all!” alastor said, clearing his throat. “really? you’re kind of burning up, and you’re breathing heavily…” you noted.
alastor fell silent, choosing the best way to respond. “i’d suggest you not ask that, love.” he warned. “any further, and i may just eat you up!” he grinned as he left a kiss on your cheek, tightening his grip on you.
“oh? should i hold you to that promise?” you teased back at him. “hmph, don’t test your luck.” he shook his head in perplexity. “tell me, would you like to be cooked slow-roasted or braised?” alastor asked, to your shock.
alastor clearly enjoyed your reaction, laughing quite loudly. “wh— i’d like to not be cooked at all!” you frowned. “hmm… fine. only because you’re so sweet.” he shrugged in surrender.
— vox
vox loves everything elegant. whether it be a flowing dress, or a well-fitted suit, it gets him hungry. hungry for you, that is.
the way they accentuate every little curve and muscle is just so appealing to him, he just can’t help his hands to himself!
elegance simply compliments your body so sweetly, he wants to show off his little treat from heaven to everyone who’ll listen. this may or may not be the reason he brings you to every event.
“do i really have to go to this?” you frown as you lounge on your bed, waiting for vox to get ready. “‘course you do. you’re mine, and i have to show you off.” he grinned, straightening his bowtie as the finishing touch.
“come on. everyone’s awaiting our appearance.” he said, coercing you and pulling you up from bed with both arms. “urgh, fine…” you groaned, finally getting up.
vox rested his hands on your shoulder and hip respectively, taking in the sweet sights. “christ, you look sexy as hell…” vox sighed out, biting the side of his bottom lip.
“you know… i wouldn’t mind so much if we… missed tonight, and had some fun..?” he raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down. “pssh, after i already got ready? no thanks.” you teased “maybe tonight instead if you want me so bad.” you rolled your eyes at him.
vox frowned at your rejection. “fine, that might just bite you in the ass later.” he threatened, playfully slapping your behind, and pulling you along by the waist.
— adam
adam loves anything that shows your skin. short skirts, crop tops, tight denim jeans, no sleeves. anything that brings attention to your assets, it’s all super sexy to him.
the fact that you’re confident enough in yourself to wear such tight-fitting clothes is so downright hot, it might just encourage him to do some… sinful acts, to say the least.
still, adam is quite possessive when it comes to you. as much as he loves you in revealing outfits, these are for his eyes only. no one else gets to see this but him.
that still doesn’t stop him from having you perform a little show for him. for his eyes exclusively.
“holy shit… you look so fuckin’ hot, babe!” adam let out, sucking in his breath as he pulls you into his lap. “do i really have to wear this..? it’s kind of uncomfortable, adam…” you pouted.
“oh, don’t worry, baby.” he comforted you, petting your hair gently. “soon enough you’ll be taking it off anyway.” he said with a cocky grin, proud of such a dirty line.
“pssh, don’t say something like that. that’s just inappropriate.” you rolled your eyes at him. “heyy… but, don’t you like it? you can’t deny that, can you, angel?” he grinned.
and, as you glared incredulously at him, he started moving his hands. his grabby hands began moving anywhere that was left exposed— your arms, thighs, and waist. his fingers traced every vein, curve, and muscle, giving you a sneak peak of what he could do.
“come on, babe…” he said, coercing you further. “you know i could show you a good time.” he grinned.
adam could feel you growing weak under his touch, encouraging him further. he started to leave open-mouthed kisses all over your collarbones.
“just let me show you a good time…” he said, running a hand over your thighs.
“…fine.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hasbin alastor#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor hc#alastor headcanons#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel smut#vox hazbin x reader#vox#vox headcanons#vox x reader#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel adam#adam#adam x reader#adam x you
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Transactional
Summary: When you go to ask Captain Levi for a promotion, it's important to remain humble.
Author note: I've had this idea for so long... this had been collecting dust in my computer for SO LONG. Because I wanted it to be hot and dirty like the underground's air but at the same time I was scared that it was a "bit" too much.
That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me.
Pairing: Levi x fem! reader.
Warnings: Top Levi Ackerman, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, MP reader, Levi x MP reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Cigarrettes, Smoking, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Oral sex, DUBCON, Bondage, Breathplay.
Word count: 12k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao HONESTLY, JUST BECAUSE I MANAGED TO EDIT this long ass post in the tumblr editor I DESERVE A LIKE AND A REBLOG (jk... but if you want its not a joke)
The agonizing rubatosis, mixed with the upsetting silence, creates a disconcerting atmosphere. Frowned eyebrows, eyes closed, cold feet rubbing over each other, and itchy underwear contribute to the discomfort. A deep breath in, count to 4, hold it for 7, and exhale slowly, counting to 8. Fists tighten, jaw clenches, and breathing becomes agitated.
‘Should I?’
Shea butter and vanilla penetrate her senses, smoothing legs that perfectly align, having been meticulously shaved. Not a single rough patch of skin, not a single hair, not a single cell left unmoistened. The hair conditioner matched the body lotion, nails painted a deep shade of red. Lips glide smoothly over each other thanks to the reddish gloss, creating a subtle plumping effect. The darkness enveloped her; hair spread on the pillow, eyelashes curved and painted a deep shade of black, with mascara perfectly in place. Blushed cheeks, radiant skin, softly glittering eyes, enhanced with brown pencil. Self-performed surgeon work, like an architect drawing up plans.
Reflective, slightly darker lips create the illusion of being kissed. Rosy cheeks mimic arousal. Uncomfortable underwear, but a perfect frame for her body. Subtly enhanced eyes for a pleasing view from the top. Everything is calculated, makeup that doesn’t look like makeup, intentionally tousled hair. She couldn’t recall the last time she put this much effort into her appearance for someone else. Usually, she dressed up for herself or her friends. A guy? Never, as far as she could remember.
All the to-do list’s lines had been checked except for one. The last item on her mental list was ‘Do you dare?’
Did she, though? Did she dare to slide her bare, smooth legs across the sheets, touch the cold floor, sneak through the corridors, slip inside through the creaked door, wait in the gloom with only one candle at the kitchen during late hours, hoping the collected info was real, and perhaps, only perhaps, see him appear through the door?
The place was ridiculously silent; she could hear her own feet against each other, her nervous tapping nails. Scouts followed rules, always doing what they were told, unlike the MPs. Even in the deep of night, you could hear everything—people making deals, cadets sneaking out, higher-ups taking cadets for personal parties. It was as if, the moment curfew started, another world began. Mixing that with the streets of the capital that never slept, the constant babble in the background. However, that wasn’t the scouts’ reality, and maybe that’s why she hated sleeping there so much. Somehow, she had gotten used to the sleepwalker city, and its ceaseless mutter became her lullaby.
After the retake of Wall Maria, after the coronation of the new queen Historia, life inside the walls changed drastically, especially in the military. New uniforms, universally appreciated in black, and the roles within the military became more ambiguous. MPs were still MPs, but they also contributed to the advances of new constructions, the displacement of new citizens to the reclaimed lands, and everyone learned how to use the new anti-person 3DMG.
Life was improving, or so many decided to believe. The scouts, almost eradicated after they took Wall Maria, saw an increase in their ranks. Transfers happened more than ever, and their salaries went from being the worst to the personal favourite military brand of the queen. Promotions were granted based on performance, sacrifice, and meritocracy—a notion she found irritatingly noble. Out of pettiness, boredom, or perhaps jealousy.
Extra-curricular activities? Even before she graduated from the trainee lines, she was in the top ten of her class, with excellent behaviour and military antecedents. Reports from citizens praised her attention and willingness to help. Double-checking almost everything. Therefore, explain why she had been rejected for a promotion so many times in the last years. The simple answer: anything in the MPs was about contacts and money, even as life inside the walls changed.
There was always an excuse—someone else deserved it better, a son of someone else got a spot that was rightfully hers, a green cadet got it simply because he was a man, and she clearly wasn’t. She wouldn’t lie and say that her desire to join the scouts had always been there. As a single daughter of a single mother, her wishes had always been to provide for her, to help her around. The day she could make her old mother stop working with her MP’s salary had been her happiest day.
Discussing it with her friend as they delivered provisions to the lines working on the train’s rails, not seeking help, but rather complaining in confidentiality. Concentrated so deeply in her venting that she didn’t notice how her friend remained quiet for a split second and then interrupted her with a cheerful smirk.
“Captain Levi just checked your ass.”
It caught her off guard, involuntarily making her want to check. “DON’T TURN!” her friend almost screamed. The idea felt bizarre, not because she wasn’t confident in her looks—she was hot as hell, and nobody could tell her otherwise. But… Captain Levi? From the Special Operation Squad? THE Captain Levi who had led the Uprising? Humanity’s Strongest Soldier? … That Captain Levi? Then, she gave it a second thought, slightly shaking her head.
“You must have imagined it,” she said.
“I SWEAR, you bent, and he checked you,”
“But… Captain Levi is?”
“Short?”
“No, you idiot. I mean yes, but not what I’m trying to say,” she corrected herself. “He just… I’ve never even heard about him with any girl, anyone to be more precise.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” her friend said, grabbing a box and starting to walk away, “but I know what I saw.”
Superiors and higher ranks checking her out, catcalling, perhaps even touching without permission? UFF, the military was full of them, even when she was much younger. However, Captain Levi could be an antisocial, stoic little jerk, but it had never struck her as those types of men. Always so uptight, correct, stoic, disinterested. There was a rumour circulating that perhaps… and only perhaps, he wasn’t particularly fond of women. A few female soldiers had tried to show their interest during military hangouts, and none of them had been successful. Considering military men’s pent-up frustration, that was very odd behaviour.
If there’s a rumour that spreads faster than what happens in someone’s sheets, it’s the lack of activity in those sheets. Captain Levi seemed to be on the other spectrum of the rumours. He definitely wasn’t a womanizer, and if he was one, what a smooth criminal he was. Not a single victim had been known.
“You know what would give you that promotion?” The administrative higher-up enlightened her after another unsuccessful raise in her salary. Her resentful eyes admired the boy, easily seven years younger than her, getting a spot because his father was a military member too. Her tired stare moved slowly back to her front, silently waiting for the pointless information to be given to her. A better cover letter? CV? Extra hours? Non-paid internships in other divisions? What?
“A recommendation from someone important.”
The red lips of the administrative staff moved slowly. If Y/N squinted a bit, she would have been able to hear the indirect suggestion. Between women, softly getting closer so the secretary could whisper without being heard. Glasses pushed down the nose bridge, and Y/N drew closer to hear the secret.
“You know, the scouts are making a big impact around here lately. Think about it.”
The words accumulate on her throat; her lips trembled, but nothing aside from indecipherable sounds left her mouth, frowning slightly at the idea.
“Think about it,” the woman repeated. “You won’t be the first girl, dear, and I guarantee you won’t be the last one.”
The wisdom that came with age and serving the military's paperwork for so many years must have given the woman enough knowledge to suggest it so plainly. What she hated the most? She had been considering it badly; she needed the money; she wanted the promotion. What was the difference between some stupid daddy's boy licking the boots of his higher-up for the position than this?
The boldest side of her mind insisted that she had slept with ex-boyfriends who were less attractive, less influential, and definitely less clean than Captain Levi. Yes, Captain Levi, because if she was doing this, she was going big or going home. Not some random newly promoted squad leader or anything. Those were the other options at the scout after they got almost eradicated—purely freshly adults. Her mind tried to convince herself of an easier target, like Jean perhaps, but she gagged at the idea. ‘He’s a baby, barely 18.’
For a split second, she wished Commander Erwin was alive. Never met him; she hadn’t even talked to him, but the blond seemed like an easier target somehow. Was it because people had talked about a chick or two that he took to his hotel’s room after parties? Maybe.
‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ pondering around the idea, like a friend encouraging you to confess to the boy you have a crush on. “You already got the no, go for the yes!” they would say, but this wasn’t silly girlish crushes.
‘That he says no and thinks of you as some cheap-ass whore.’
No, this wasn’t a crush. It was plain transactional.
‘Well… not like Captain Levi had ever looked over to me as if he had me in any sort of high esteem to begin with.’
Back to the beginning. They had ordered her to help around the Scout’s facilities as they developed the new train station around Paradise, and as soon as those orders had reached her ears, the plan was rolling. ‘Now… or never.’
Battle dress on: short loose shorts, a loose shirt that barely covered her belly, and her fanciest lingerie underneath. Captain Levi always made himself a cup of tea late at night to carry on with paperwork. Her military’s trajectory to secure the objective was: leave her bed, go there, and hope that her glossy lips and glittery eyes would do the trick. This was far from what she was used to, and what had boosted her confidence earlier that day to get ready had easily dripped away. Leaving her tied up to her bed as an external force that incapacitated her from doing it.
‘He’s not your higher-up; he can’t fire you directly.’
‘But what if he does?’
‘He’s probably small and will last a couple of minutes with luck; it’s easy as cake.’
‘What if he tells someone?’
‘You got nothing to lose and a lot to win.’
‘Everybody does something to scale in the MPs; no amount of extra work and good behaviours would get you anywhere. Think about what you could buy with that promotion.’
Tiptoes on the ground, a deep sigh, hands on the edge of the mattress pushing her up, calculated steps on the wood planks that didn’t squeak, palm against the edge of the door to close it without making a sound, single candle in her grip waiting for her to reach the kitchen to turn it on, non-existing hairs raising on her legs due to the coldness of the halls, curious eyes checking over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, candle on, kettle on the fire, speech ready.
‘Now… are you going to show up, Captain?’
The flame of the candle flickered in the night air. She had heated the water multiple times, taking the kettle off the stove before it boiled, resting it on the countertop, and once it cooled, returning it to the fire. The script had been prepared, written, and practiced in her mind. However, the main participant in this story, her co-star, had not made his triumphant appearance.
First, she waited in a poised position, then faced the door while resting her weight on the countertops. After an hour and a half, the cold had crept up on her, fighting and winning against the burning heat of the nerves, leaving her shivering. Bent over the countertops with her eyes fixed on the kettle, she seemed disinterested, disappointed, and tired.
Her hand covered her mouth in a loud yawn. Once the anxiety had subsided, tiredness set in—slow blinks, head buried between her arms on the table, eyes still fixed on the kettle. It was right there, on the fire, still with time to boil. "You're going to burn the whole place down," a voice interrupted her thoughts.
That snapped her back from her reverie. It was evident that her mind had conjured a realistic dream because the kettle she was supposed to be watching had been removed from the fire, with a cloth covering the handle, and placed on the countertop, far from her reach to prevent burns. Steam billowed loudly from it, whistling in the stillness of the night.
Standing up, she froze in place, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to process what she was witnessing. The first few buttons of his grey shirt were undone, and he wore black trousers of the uniform, but no boots. Although his slippers didn't match the scene, his exhaustion was unmistakable. There he stood, as stoic and unfriendly as ever: Captain Levi, with rolled-up sleeves, removing the kettle from the fire and clicking his tongue as he turned off the gas.
Facing away from her, he seemed as indifferent as if she were just another countertop in the kitchen. Her nails softly scraped her arms as she pondered whether to press further, take the hint, or if she was simply cold, hence why she ran her hands up and down her arms. The muscles of his back contracted and moved, the V-shaped shadow down his spine emphasized his broad shoulders and defined waist. His rolled-up sleeves made her admire his porcelain skin, catching the light in particular shapes as some of his forearm hair shimmered under the candlelight.
While the slippers detracted slightly from the uniform, diminishing the powerful feeling, she had to admit, upon deeper thought, that the tight black trousers of his new uniform were incredibly appealing. Despite his short stature, Captain Levi was a fine specimen of a man. The subtle notion that perhaps scouts, with their heavy training, gather a couple of points from the MPs in that department. After all, MPs hardly bothered to train beyond the obligatory, which was very little.
Slightly turning to his right, locking eyes with her with an unapproachable demeanour, hand on hip, he questioned, "Dare to explain what you're doing breaking curfew, cadet? Do you want to jeopardize us all with your incompetence"
The first part of her plan was to improvise. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she thought about saying, but how could she claim that after sleeping over the countertop? His grey eyes, almost cat-like, hunted her in the dark, and suddenly, she felt her legs tremble. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him now that she had him up close, alone, in the middle of the night.
Her lips, still glossy, parted in doubt as she mumbled uneasily, "I…" She wanted to come up with a new excuse, but quickly realized she wasn’t cut out for this, for the whole charade. "I have a headache," she finally managed.
His face remained unreadable, uninterested eyes glued to her, judging her, waiting for her to break under his scrutiny, like a mother who knows you’re lying, allowing a brief moment of silence for a confession before taking matters into her own hands. But Y/N stayed resolute, gathering ambition from unknown sources.
Hand on hips, weight shifting from one leg to another, eyes quickly moving from her face to the countertop. "That won’t help," the words crossed the kitchen as if it were an open field of a hunting sport, piercing her heart but leaving her to crawl an agonizing death until her dying breath.
"Sorry?"
Eyes focusing again on the countertop. "Black tea," he said monosyllabically, as if each word cost him money. "That doesn’t help with headaches; you should get chamomile or peppermint."
"Ah," she replied, confused. Why was he clarifying that? What was the point of this conversation? Crossing legs as the cold crept in, but it quickly vanished as blood rushed to her cheeks.
Turning back around, facing the counter and gripping her own teacup. The recommendation was blatantly ignored; it seemed like a random fact thrown at her rather than something to take seriously, at least for her. About to carry on, she considered just faking preparing the tea and getting away from there.
Frozen in place, each hair on her body raised involuntarily. Not even his steps against the wood planks had been heard. ‘Oh.. Uhm-’ the natural process of breathing was totally forgotten. A strong, patronizing hand sneaking, almost creeping with confidence on her lower back, guiding her toward another cupboard.
He moved closer, getting an involuntary reaction out of her. Straightening up, chest pushing forward, lips parting, breath accelerating. He was so close, looking into her. Eyes locked onto hers over her shoulder, transparent pearls penetrating her soul. Nails sank into her palms as her teeth clenched. If he was so short, why did it feel so towering? Suddenly, the thought of owing him an apology for simply sharing the same air crossed her mind. Her nipples were noticeable through her loose shirt; he must be able to see it. As he grew closer, her idea was that all the subtle little hints must have worked.
Eyes closed, holding her breath, the air moving around her gave her the idea of movement. Holding out for nothing. Waiting for him to steal a kiss from her, perhaps grip her hips, pushing aside her loose short, turning her around, and fuck her roughly and mindlessly over the countertop. Getting what he wanted as if it were rightfully his.
“Here,” she opened her eyes. He was handing her a tea box where it read the same ingredients he had suggested.
“Thank you, sir,” her subtle smile tried to make up for her disappointment. Expectations were different; somehow, her best hopes were on him ogling at her, making it more impersonal and disinterested. Therefore, she could say that she walked up there, perhaps pleased him, and got what she came looking for. It was easier; easier it is to repeat like a broken record some silly washed-up quotes and nicknames that guys allegedly liked. ‘Yes, daddy’, ‘I’ll be a good girl Captain, I just do bad things with you,’ ‘Please, sir. I’m a good girl,’ or something in the department of ‘Ah- its so big, daddy,’ Get used and lose a little bit of dignity in exchange for something else.
Different it is, the tension building in her as she felt him looming over her frame, reminding her of just how insignificant she truly was compared to him. His hand resting lightly on the small of her back, guiding her movements. The coolness of his touch contrasting with the heat radiating off her body. Or the opposite, how cold and exposed she felt with her scant clothes and his cold hand didn’t help. A treacherous finger began to travel upwards, making each vertebra move and curve.
“Sir?” she hated how scared her voice sounded. Suddenly, as if it had escaped her mind, she remembered he was humanity’s strongest soldier. The soldier who went on the expedition to retake Wall Maria and essentially fought the most difficult titan shifter known until now, who led the Uprising. How many MPs did he kill there? How much stronger was he than her? Could she truly still walk away from this, or was her fate sealed?
“You’re stiff as a board; that’s giving you the headaches,” he commented casually as his right hand reached her shoulder and kneaded.
The action was absurdly overwhelming; she didn’t know her traps hurt this much until now but also how to react. Self-preservation mechanisms were out of the window; her lips pronounced what they had been dying to say since she left her bed. “It’s because of the promotion; it’s stressing me out.”
“I can help with that,”
Her worst fears and wildest dreams, all together in a sentence. Confirming what she came looking for but also the end of the speculations. Translucent eyes looked at him over her shoulder, expecting him to make the bolder move. She hated to admit how her heart skipped a beat, how his controlling hand on her neck made her want to arch her spine and gasp softly.
“With the headaches, I mean,” adrenaline had reached a peak and now tumbled down, leaving her devoid of thought other than disappointment mixed with relief. However, his tone, covered in a thin layer of entertainment, passed unaware to her at first.
Both hands on each trap, fingers sank in and then moved. Tearing her muscles apart from her bones, that’s how it felt. Handling, strong, overwhelming. Her breath stuck in her chest, and no matter how much she tried, she wobbled in her place. No amount of strength could help her remain still. Each tug that forced her to press slightly back against his chest, feeling the straps of the uniforms, made her sense weak, nervous. How his strong, calloused fingers felt divine, slightly too rough with the perfect amount of pain to make her forget for a minute but not entirely. Despite their roughness, his nails were perfectly short, making it impossible to experience any scratches.
The thought that perhaps there was another motive behind all this, beyond just getting a promotion, crossed her mind. It was the opportunity to experience how it would feel to be man-handled by the strongest soldier out there until she was left foolish. Her walls pressed together as excitement crept in, reminding her of how lonely and empty she felt. Wouldn’t a little love and something significant big feel extraordinary? The realization of how thin her shorts were and how much her body reacted to his touch filled her with shame.
Allowing him to treat her like some bitch in heat, shooting a load or two for a mere letter that said, "she’s good at what she does," as some cruel inner joke. It left her feeling worthless yet needy, a bad combination.
“Breathe, you’re tensing even more,” he murmured, and she could almost swear the smirk could be felt in his tone. The intentions were to breathe, to remain unaffected, but his movements felt powerfully triggering, and he seemed so unbothered by it. Any force he applied to almost tear her muscles into the correct position didn’t signify any real strength for him.
Each tug began to win little chopped breaths out of her as it was painful but also relaxing. She couldn't help but obey his command, forcing herself to take deep breaths to try and relax. But his touch, his presence, it was all so intense. Each movement of his hands felt deliberate, calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And she couldn't deny the tingling sensation that spread through her body at his touch, despite her best efforts to remain composed.
She struggled to follow his instructions, her breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps as his hands worked their magic on her tense muscles. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort within her. It was as if he could sense her vulnerability, her longing for something more than just a simple massage. Tug, thumbs pressing against her traps as they moved upwards, dragging her skin with them, chopped out breath as the pressure was too much before it withdrew slowly.
Then all over again, harsh. “Mhh ah-” it left her lips involuntarily as he touched a particular place. She gnawed her lip, holding back. His fingers weren’t particularly soft, not only because of the pressure he delivered but also rough with days and days of working, slightly calloused, rubbing in all the right places. Not again, she swore she was trying to remain composed, how he hadn’t heard her. “AH-” wincing as he moved up and contracted her neck, she feared for a second he would choke her.
His grip tightened, nails digging deeper into her flesh, pulling her downward. Thighs shaking, knees buckled, she fought to keep standing as her world spun. He knew her weakness; he exploited it without remorse. Every touch was a reminder of his dominance, every pull a testament to his power. She was helpless beneath him, unable to escape his grasp. Levi’s hands, humanity’s strongest hands—strong, angled, harsh, broad.
He chuckled.
He chuckled between pulls, his thumb rubbing circles on her sore spots, while his palm pressed harder against her neck.
Y/N froze in place as she felt him chuckle entertained behind her, almost mischievously. “Somebody is excited,” he calmly commented, but the smirk on his face was subtly evident in his tone. His voice was steady, despite the few sassy remarks, and it annoyed her to death. Like a cat playing with a moth until it's dead, they know they've won the game, so why rush it? Let's enjoy the hunt while she’s stripped of her dignity. “Nobody's given it to you in a while?”
Lips parted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and offense, she looked over her shoulder at Levi’s bleary eyes. “Excuse me?” she frowned deeply as she turned. She hadn't realized until then how close he was to her, practically breathing the same air. His stare penetrated her iris and seemed to read her soul, making her swallow uneasily. Her demanding tone quickly withdrew not only from her voice but also from her features. His silence subtly implied, but his presence demanded, ‘Come on, girl. You don’t reply to me like that if you know what's good for you.’ That’s what she got.
“A massage,” he said quietly, “nobody's given you a massage in a while?”
At this rate, she knew he knew. He was playing, dancing around the edge of pretending ignorance and seeing how far she would go. Standing, either summoning the courage to bring up the offer herself or walk out empty-handed. Waiting, like a mafia boss to see how much she would beg before setting her free, or crawling back to him, hoping for an opportunity.
There was an inner battle: either snap at him, reply, or descend all levels of self-love.
“It’s because you’re going too rough,” she said, mainly because she refused to be so quickly humiliated by a guy that short. Both looked at each other; her gaze moved slightly over his eyes, expecting any shift, something, but it was obvious that in a stare fight, he was going to win.
"Rough?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You’ve no idea what rough means.”
Her cockiness quickly withdrew. She wished she had some sassy comeback prepared or ready, but it wasn’t the case. Her teeth rolled along the edge of her bottom lip. It made her curious; either he liked to pretend he had more sexual history than was known, or she had bitten off more than she could chew. It stirred up a mix of curiosity, excitement, nervousness, and fear all at once. Imagining him fucking some unknown soldier rough, mindlessly, just for the sake of it. Scouts were so stressed, living quick, short lives.
Her eyes couldn’t help themselves, quickly dropping down to check. His thick, muscular legs, almost as if they had been forced to fit into the tight black trousers of the uniform. Losing its subtleness, the outline of his dick on one side of his left leg forced her to look back up. She finally turned around to face him again, but his stoic expression gave away little information, almost none.
“Perhaps you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, brat,” his voice began to sound like a distorted dream. She was waiting for some smooth approach or perhaps a fully humiliating one. The expectations were simpler: either he would like to pretend some love he endeared from her or behave like any disgusting dude at a bar, asking for a quickie in a bathroom cabinet. Neither of the two options was less humiliating. But this was different.
At this rate, the humiliation and initial thoughts were replaced by overwhelming curiosity. “How rough?” She felt her glossed lips stick together slightly as she murmured timidly, feeling her head heat up and her stomach tighten. Something intrinsically wrong must be with her, she believed.
With a second thought, she was sure that this would make her extremely ashamed.
“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” he warned, not a single centimetre of his features giving away any sort of intentions. Excitement or expectation, arousal or boredom, sweetness or creepiness. Grey gems looking back at her deadly, daring her to make deals with the devil or walk back home.
‘Go big or go home, didn’t I say that?’
“I want a recommendation,” she finally said it, thrilling anticipation coursing through her veins. This man, this beast, was about to unleash hell upon her body. Yet, she found herself oddly eager for it. Was it fear or excitement? Perhaps both. “and… in exchange, you can go as rough as you want.”
It felt absurdly dirty. Giving it a thought in the hole of self-hate, she concluded that perhaps she should have done this when she was younger, like her friends as cadets. When hormones and lack of experience made it hard to think it through, that receiving a good salary and free days to go out and party was worth letting any squad leader get a chance.
"Recommendation," he echoed, repeating her words as if testing them on his tongue. There was a moment of silence, as if weighing the pros and cons of such a proposition.
Finally, he nodded. "Very well."
Those two words held such weight, sending another wave of nerves through her. What had she gotten herself into? The room suddenly became hotter, thicker, suffocating. Her heart raced faster, pounding heavily in her ears.
Half-lidded, she moved closer, not entirely sure how this was done, if it was meant to start slow and soft for it to escalate. But she tried; she could take the lead in the kiss. But his hand stopped her face as he tilted backwards, completely breaking the moment.
“Who do you think I am?” Levi said, offended. And she feared for her life. Perhaps he just wanted to ascertain how much of an easy, cock-drunk slut she was to give him more reasons to find her worthless. But then, “Some green cadet who, for the sake of getting my cock wet, I would fuck you behind a horse at the stables? Or at the common kitchen?”
She didn’t know how to answer, but thankfully, Levi didn’t give her much time to talk. “My chambers.”
Feeling closer to a military order than a booty appointment, she slowly made her way to the door while he retreated to the counters, tidying up. Her feet dragged across the hall as she pushed open the door, her eyes constantly checking behind her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this might all be a joke.
Before she knew it, his hand urged her forward, pushing at the small of her back to guide her upstairs. "Come on, girly, we don’t have all night," he muttered.
It felt like a shameful march. They ascended the stairs in silence, each step echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The stillness of the night only intensified her discomfort; she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might overhear them. Perhaps some night owl among the scouts would peek through a door, or worse, they might already know who slept where. The thought of having to make the same trip downstairs the next morning filled her with dread. As if she would walk out of that room with a paper stuck to her forehead that said, "I was Captain Levi’s slut for a night."
Led through the dim corridors of the base, they passed several closed doors marked 'Officer Quarters,' indicating where higher-ranking personnel resided. Finally, they reached what seemed to be his room. With a swift motion, he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first. ‘What a gentleman,’ she thought sarcastically.
As she stepped inside and took in her surroundings, she noticed the simplicity of his chamber. It lacked extravagance, with only functional furniture and tools of his trade. The room felt impersonal, as if he had never bothered to make it feel like home. His office area featured a desk cluttered with paperwork and a bookshelf filled with texts on military strategy and tactics.
To the left were two doors, presumably leading to his bedroom and an attached bathroom. Levi moved past her to search through the cabinets while she observed. Two glasses were already filled by the time he turned to her.
"A drink?" he offered.
She accepted, unable to suppress a subtle smile. Whatever she had anticipated for the night, this wasn't it. Chuckling, she teased, "Do you offer drinks to all the girls you bring over?"
Levi downed his drink and poured another. "No. But you seem nervous as fuck, and it’s making me uncomfortable."
She laughed softly, acknowledging the truth in his statement. "Thank you, then." The burn of alcohol sliding down her throat helped steady her nerves somewhat.
As they stood there, glasses in hand, tension hung thick between them. Hoping the alcohol would ease the tension, she shifted her attention elsewhere, but she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Swallowing, Addam's apple moving before he spoke, "Are you clean, right?"
His question caught her off guard, and she almost choked on her drink. "What?" she hummed, not fully comprehending.
Then, fear crept in quickly. "I am… I’m not doing it without protection," she clarified confidently.
His chuckle did little to ease her worry. "No shit, girly. I wasn’t stupid enough as a teen to not wrap it up. I'm not starting now," he replied. "The last thing I need in my life right now is getting a chick knocked up."
His words, despite their lack of warmth, reassured her. "I meant, is it safe for me to eat you out,"
Relief washed over her as she realized her misunderstanding. "Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Yes, you can." As his words sank in, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, lips pressing together before she took another sip and crossed her legs. 'Doesn’t he want a blowjob?' How many superiors offer you promotions in exchange for making you cum?
He nodded, finishing his drink in one gulp. His intense gaze never wavered from hers. "Good."
Slowly, he approached her, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. She could smell the liquor on his breath, taste it on his lips. For a brief moment, she wondered if he expected her to initiate something, but before she could gather her thoughts, their lips met in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, asserting dominance as his hands gripped her hips, pressing her against the door.
Pulling away slightly, he pinned her against the door, his hands roaming her body as he kissed her jawline. "Wait… let’s go to the room," she suggested, realizing he meant to fulfil his earlier request.
"No, you're too timid for riding my face. I want to be buried in your pussy right now," he insisted. The impact against the harsh wood surface and his lips reconnecting with her with necessity almost knocked her completely off her breath. Hands that had been kneading her shoulders only a few minutes ago were now digging into her hips, pushing them into his, possessive and demanding.
"Levi," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible. The kiss was broken again, and her agitated breathing filled the gap between their faces. Surprised by his sudden aggression, she struggled to form coherent thoughts as he continued to devour her neck and shoulders. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing along her curves and dipping beneath her top to cup her breasts roughly.
“It’s Captain Levi, for you,”
All her attempts to appear seductive were now the natural flush of her face, pumped lips of how they tried to suck each other’s air, the blood in her cheeks, the tossed hair. His hands grabbed the edge of her shorts and played with it. His words crossed the little space between their features with cockiness. “What are you wearing under this for me? Huh? What slutty little shit did you put on to wrap yourself up as if you’re my birthday present?”
A cheeky index finger ghostly touched her belly with its knuckle, making the fine hairs raise involuntarily before tugging on the fabric to sneak a peek. ‘Why doesn’t he just tell me to strip?’ But Captain Levi seemed to be like a cat; he liked to play with his prey until eating them completely, a cruel game. Eyes checked down and hummed in approval. “Black, classic. Not bad,” he said, but a part of his speech didn’t seem impressed. “But I prefer pink.”
Her mind insisted on giving it a second thought, that he didn’t strike her as those types of guys, but anything happening until then had proved to her that she had no idea who he was, what he liked, what type of man Captain Levi was.
Without further prompting, Levi dropped to his knees, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers trailed along the hem of her shorts, pausing briefly before dropping it. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before diving in, his nose brushing against the fabric.
Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as his warm breath tickled her sensitive flesh. Anticipation built within her, mixing with apprehension. It was unavoidable. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to focus solely on the sensations washing over her. A gasp left her lips as he grabbed her right leg and lifted it as if it was nothing and placed it over his shoulder. His calloused hand still lingering on it, gripping her thighs with strength and pleasure, enjoying gripping them as his nose pressed softly against her folds.
Levi's skilled fingers hooked beneath the elastic band of her panties, tugging them aside just enough. Once removed, he ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her swollen core. An involuntary moan escaped her lips. She trembled in a different kind of anxiousness; it was now plainly obvious. With a smirk, Levi leaned in closer, his nose barely grazing her sensitive flesh. "Do you like that, girly?" he whispered, his tone thick with lust. Her answer was evident in the way she trembled under his touch.
Gently, he blew cold air across her wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She couldn't help but arch her back, moaning softly as her grip tightened on the door behind her. Nails digging into the wood as terror set in. Slowly, he lowered his head, his tongue darting out to trace the outline of her folds.
Fear. No, he didn’t want a quickie at some public facility. No, he didn’t want some quick blowjob under his desk. No, he didn’t want any fast, easy solution. He wanted to savour each single centimetre of skin, torture all the cells, squeeze each second that he got to play with her as his little possession.
Each flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of sensation throughout her body, making her squirm. His expert hands found purchase on her thighs, holding her firmly in place. His tongue flicked out, teasing her entrance as his thumb kept doing slow little circles on top of her clit. Gripping his shoulders for balance and support. He slid his middle finger across her entrance, coating it with her arousal before dipping it inside. His thumb continued to tease her clit, stroking gently yet firmly.
Her moans grew louder, punctuated by soft whimpers as her head thumped against the door. Her breath agitated as his tongue slipped inside her. “Mh- Ah!” she felt her climax nearing, wondering with half-lidded eyes why he was being so pleasing. It was torture how he moved with perfect sync, but yet it was subtle. As if she let herself be dragged by the course, her body relaxing and twitching unintentionally as he held her in place.
Her back arched unintentionally, trying to follow him as he suddenly pulled back when she was about to reach her peak. “Captain-”
“That’s it, get all soft for me,” He murmured as he casually kissed the bottom of her belly. Before he went back, determined. It only took one, two, three flicks of his thumb directly over her bud to make her gasp loudly, press her raised leg against his head and feel how the other tensed and then struggle to keep her up. Her breath struggled to find a rhythm when all of a sudden, he took all of her in. Unapologetic tongue ran flat all over her fold before closing over the top so he started to suck and lick directly her clit as two unceremonious fingers were playing with her entrance before sinking in all the way.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as her nails scratched the door and she began to twist in position as if it was too much after her release.
“MH- Ah, no wait- AH!” a loud moan cut her complaints as his fingertips found a particular place and decided to assault it with no mercy, as his mouth kept playing directly over her clit. It was too much; she felt her leg shaking as much as she felt his fingers getting impossibly wet and slippery inside with no remorse anymore. They pushed against her walls, making her feel the tug of her own body before returning to press against that spot.
“No. No-hah!” She began convulsing against the wall, her head moving hectically to the side as she felt herself getting impossibly wet and electric waves coursing through her. “Please- No! Wait ah! No."
Palms pressed against the door, trying to push herself upwards, but he grabbed her shaking leg that was struggling to keep her up and positioned it over his shoulder with the other. The movement was so smoothly done; to him, it felt natural, but for her, it felt like a completely different situation. The strength with which he moved left her absurdly powerless; the tug felt so powerful as if she didn’t even notice the resistance she was exerting compared to his.
Then, he completely sat on his face. She felt everything—the contour of his face as her body rocked involuntarily, his fingers slipping in and out as his nose rubbed against her folds while his tongue licked clean her abused hole. “HM!” she gasped loudly, jerking upwards before falling completely over his head when the hand that was kneaded the meat of her thigh slapped her loudly.
She wanted to move, to slip away as she felt as if her bones were being drained, uncontrollable pleasure overtaking her. Her thighs pressed against his head as one of her hands moved downwards to tug his soft dark locks, obsessed, shivering as her mind kept shutting down.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she struggled against him, fighting against his strong grasp. "Please, Captain, I can't take it anymore!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m fucking going to piss myself.”
With a smirk hidden from view, Levi held her in place, refusing to let her go. He knew exactly where she stood, only groaning pleasingly as he intensified his actions. His fingers thrust into her relentlessly, matching his rhythm with the flicks of his tongue. Levi could feel her hips buck violently, trying to escape his relentless assault, how she squirmed helplessly in his grasp. He was feasting on her with no remorse.
She cried out his name, unable to bear the intensity any longer. Her orgasm hit like a freight train, her body convulsing as she tried to pull away. But he wouldn't allow it, keeping her anchored to his mouth, shaking as he kept driving his tongue all over her. The feeling of being dripping was overshadowed by him drinking her in as if he was the thirstiest man alive, moaning against her folds as she could almost bet she felt his pleased smirk.
At some point, she couldn’t even hold her form against the door, twitching involuntarily. Levi reluctantly released her, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He stood up and picked her up, no buckling knees, no groan or scoff as he did; it was as if he was picking up a paper sheet from the desk. Weightless, powerless against his pull. Unceremoniously, he dropped her on the bed.
Jacket off shoulders, left at the back of a chair inside his room. Arness's upper part was pushed down so his hands could grip the edge of his grey shirt and push it over his head. Then, before she could process it, enjoying the soft cotton of the fabric against her body, marking a huge difference from the rough door, one of his knees sank on the mattress before he crawled to be between her legs.
Elbows on the bed, heels pushing upwards, her broken voice pleaded, “no, please. It’s enough,” as he kissed and nibbled the sweet part of her inner thighs before moving to her core again. “Ah!” she jerked again as he snapped the side of her leg again.
The tingling heat after the hit lingered on her as Levi rearranged her on the bed to his pleasure. “I think you’re not understanding your position,” he groaned, “I’ll say when it's enough; you just have to spread your legs for me to do what I please. That’s your fucking job now if you want your stupid letter, lay there and be a good pliant hole for me to fuck.”
Uncomfortable groans echoed in the room, interrupted by his own voice once again, “Did I make myself clear?”
“Yes…” she murmured but his haunting glance between his legs made her thought he heard her backwards softly. Passing down saliva, “Yes, sir.”
“This is your last warning,” he informed her, while his hands ran up and down her body, palm flat against the valley of her breasts, the touch was so soft but it felt subtly rough from the callouses of his hands, a permanent reminder this wasn’t supposed to feel as lovely as it momentarily did. “Did you hear me, girly? Or have I already fucked you dumb?”
“Yes, sir.”
Contorting uneasily as little whimpers left her lips between a mix of discomfort, pleasure, exhaustion, and pain. Pain because she could already feel his fingers sneaking in, three of them patiently spreading her for him and his restless mouth once again on work. It was too much, involuntarily her legs pushed against the mattress when he hit a particular place. Twisting as if she was possessed, fingers tugging from the sheets and her back arching as a natural reflex.
It was embarrassing how much she felt the wetness of her own mixed with his saliva sneaking through her ass cheeks down to the bed. Her legs felt weak but got a sudden burst of strength as he kept playing with a place that made her eyes roll back and tried to push her up. Levi held her in place, arm surrounding her thighs and arching her core to his face. Despite it all, her hole twitched with the necessity of more, demanding something even bigger as she felt her pinkie fingers going numb from the overpressure.
Knees buckled as he parted momentarily. “What a cute little slutty hole. You’re so tight; I will enjoy fucking it raw,” while she trembled in anticipation, Levi smirked as if he could already see everything he had planned in his mind. He softly pressed a finger on it only to see it clamp down onto it. “So fucking needy; when was the last time you got a good cock to fuck you back into your place?”
With a smirk, Levi withdrew his finger, replaced it with his mouth, and plunged inside, sucking her into his mouth. His finger teased against the back wall, exploring her depths before finding the spot that made her buck wildly. She mewled, her voice hoarse and filled with a hint of desperation. Her head thrashed from side to side, her nails digging into the sheets as she begged for mercy.
The following two orgasms were quick; Levi was getting eager to plow into her pussy with his dick now. His finger pried her open, and his tongue easily got in and swirled around. At this rate, she was just spread on the bed, twitching miserably, whimpering out of pleasure and the sweet pain it provided. “It’s so pretty when you cry,” he joked as little mewling sounds left her rose lips, and her eyes looked translucent with clamped-out eyelashes by the moisture. “Beg me more.”
Her eyes fluttered open, desperate and pleading. "Please, sir… just fuck me already," she begged. The intensity of her arousal was overwhelming; her body begged for release.
Levi got up to his knees, looking down at her and then between her legs, admiring his own creation with a smirk on his face. Fingers casually unbuckling his belt, letting it hang loosely around his hips as he undid the front button of his black uniform trousers and shamelessly patted the front of his engorged dick, feeling the outline of his erection through the fabric and hissing slightly as he finally got some relief from the pressure. As if he enjoyed forcing himself to enjoy every little bite from his meal, saving the best for last, testing his endurance of resisting to the last limit so each little inch that he plugged in of his dick finally in that slippery hot heaven felt like pure blessing. His left hand, which wasn’t touching himself, caressed her leg that forced to be up because she could no longer do it on his own.
“Ass up, girly,” he said. The command had been processed, but it was as if her body wasn’t replying to her mind. The only thing she could fully process was the movement of the mattress and how cold the bed felt as Levi abandoned it. Lazy steps against the wood planks that gave up little cracking sounds. Striding in front of his dresser, slightly bending, allowing her to have a good view of his ass as he dropped the trousers with the underwear all together and then quickly folded them and threw them over the surface, but he upheld something with his left hand from his clothes that she couldn’t perceive from the perspective of spying on him from her lazily open legs and half-lidded eyes. Fingers rummaged through a couple of things before he got what he had been looking for.
“It seems like I’ve to do fucking everything,” he complained, but there was no hint of actual anger in his voice, stoic as ever as he walked back to the bed with his hard dick on full display. Impossible erect and slightly dripping pre-cum from the tip that was a deep shade of red compared to the rest of his pale body, it involuntarily twitched as if it was happy of being finally free. She bit her bottom lip as she delighted herself with the view before doing a little eye contact; it was a good size, way more than she anticipated. Underneath it his heavy balls and on top a nice happy trail that resembled a signal that indicated anything under his belly button and chiseled abs was also a happy surprise.
Her eyes quickly fell to his left hand, and she noticed the belt from the 3DMG gear. While the reason why he may have kept that was rather obvious, the possibility escaped her rationality. “Wait- You’re not using that-“
“I said.” He just gripped the sides of her hips and flipped her over, “Ass up.”
Knees sank on the bed, “MHMP-“ her complaints were muffled by the bed as avoiding her full upper body falling completely into the mattress was difficult as he gripped her arms.
“I told you, it was your last warning,” Levi said as the belt tied up against her wrists, knotting up safely. Her face buried in the sheets by the pressure of her own weight, “I’ll teach you discipline, little shit.”
Hands massaging her ass cheeks, fingers sinking in the meat as his own knees against her legs forced more space. “HMP!” muffled complaint as swiftly one hand impacted on her ass, heat spreading through the skin and turning it red as the sound echoed in the dead of night. His hand followed, leaving a mark on her ass. The heat traveled through her skin, and she could feel her pussy drenching with need. She whimpered, trying to squirm against the belt, but he held her in place. Another and another, each time made her jerk forward slightly as her breath held in her chest and then puffed out.
“Please…” she whispered as her head turned to a side, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I’ll behave, please.”
Levi hummed, but his hand didn’t leave her ass, caressing the hurt zone softly. “Don’t you think we should make it even?”
The next swat landed on her other cheek, making her eyes water and her body jerk. "Please!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her whole body tensed, every nerve ending screaming in anticipation and desire.
Levi grunted, "Ah. You’re such a crying baby. As all MPs," he growled, rubbing the red splotches with his calloused hand. "You're so wet, begging for my dick. You better be grateful you're getting it."
“Ah-!” she gasped loudly as he slapped her ass again. The grip on her hair pushed her head up, and despite the tug and the strength of the grip, the relief of fresh air filling her lungs finally clouded her mind. His breath impacted on her face from the side as he held her, watching how her mouth hung open, panting softly.
“Thank me for showing you your place,” Levi demanded.
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, forcing herself to look at him from the side. Locking her pleading eyes with his demanding stare. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, sir.”
Levi hummed satisfied, his fingers weaving into her hair again. "That's my girl," he growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Good girl,” he repeated before placing a kiss on her shoulder blades that were working extra hard by having her hands tied back. He released her hair, gave her ass one last swat, and then positioned himself behind her. She whimpered one last time, face resting on the side as she observed him opening up the foil of the condom carefully and then the subtle hiss as he rolled it down his dick. One hand lazily jerked himself as another reached for her folds and casually ran up and down his thumb through them, spreading the slick evenly.
“You should be riding my cock until I got tired of keeping it wet and warm, yet here I am,” Levi complained as if he wasn’t the one taking each and every decision while shamelessly gripping her tied-up hands from the back to position himself. “Fucking you silly and doing all the shitty job; maybe I should get that promotion,”
‘As if this wasn’t what you wanted.’
But she decided to carry on with the performance, either out of self-preservation, arousal, or the feeling of the cold-wrapped head of his cock running up and down her folds, applying soft pressure at her entrance before withdrawing, had already made her mad. “Thank you, sir.”
The angle of her body, the arch of her back, his hand on her hip, and his subtle hum of approval. Her mouth hung open, and the gasp was fully cushioned by the bed, struggling against her binds. Despite her assumptions, Levi sank in slowly and patiently, despite slipping inside effortlessly.
“Ah- Fuck,” he scoffed out, gritting his teeth as his head fell backward slightly, forcing himself to savor the moment but not completely lose it, gasping slightly. Withdrawing only a bit before thrusting back in, testing the waters. He took a moment to adjust, breathing heavily through his nose, and then began to thrust slowly. Each movement was met with a soft whine from the girl. But the soft, almost loving pace lasted the split of a second, a brief moment of calmness before the storm.
She should have known, at this rate, the second one of his hands abandoned her hip to grip the belt around her tied-back hands and used it as leverage. The tug from the resistance, the forced into place, and one deep thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. Withdrawing almost all the way, almost only the tip left in before he used her own hands as a grip to push all the way in.
"God damn," he cursed under his breath, pushing in deeper. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, a pleased growl escaping his throat. Meanwhile, she would swear she was trying to breathe more, but the sheets stuck to her face and covered her nose. She tried to cry a little bit less loud because despite her features being buried down, the loud muffled moans each time he plunged all the way in mixed with the loud slapping of the bed frame against the wall must have woken up someone somehow.
“MH-HMP!” Her dignity told her not to sob of how good it feels, how deep it hits, how it felt as if he was trying to break her in half, conserve some dignity, but tears ran down her face of how perfectly synced he set the rhythm, how the friction of her parted knees against the sheets was starting to burn, but it was the perfect mix of how his cock’s head hit that place so brutally sweet.
“Fucking shit, what a pretty view on all fours,” he grunted, his voice sounding less controlled. The lust creeping in as his free thumb pushed his ass cheeks apart, locking his eyes on the way his cock disappeared into the slippery mess of her abused hole at that rate. “Ah-“ Levi let out a subtle moan as if the view was too much to handle, as the sweat glistened on her skin. The only way to not get completely lost in it was to spark it again.
“NH-AH!” she cried out as her legs trembled and her lips gasped for air.
“Best ass inside the walls,” Levi groaned. “And it’s all mine to fuck raw.”
Each thrust, each pull out, and then the deep push - Levi grunted, his own breathing ragged. He gripped the belt, pulling her hands slightly, making her hiss as the pressure against her skin was starting to leave obvious marks. Marks that joined all the rest of them, the still fresh, almost pulsating red handprints on each of her ass cheeks, the shameless bites he left on her shoulder blades each time he bent over to it.
His pace quickened, and so did her tears. She was soaked, her toes curled, and her body shook with each hit. She was a mess, a crying, whiny mess, and yet she was enjoying it, her core clenching around his cock with every movement. Levi growled, and his thrusts became harder, faster, more forceful. A relentless groan escaped him as he slammed into her harder, the friction of her wet core against his shaft nearly driving him insane. His grip on the belt tightened, and he pulled her hands back even further, making her body arch even more. The sound of leather against her skin echoed through the room, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smell of the clean room.
She was close, so close, but Levi stopped suddenly, and she wanted to scream out in frustration, to put an end to this sweet torture. Her knees hurt, her arms hurt, her pussy throbbed with need and abuse when he pulled out of her. No time to think as his pale, sweaty hand appeared from the top, grabbing the pillow and then turning her around forcefully from her shoulder.
“I want to see that fucking pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” Despite the darkness of the night, the room felt like it lighted up for her now with her face finally on display. Pillow under her hips, both legs over his shoulders, and without a minute to spare, he thrust all the way in.
“AH!” her moan echoed in the room as the angle felt too much, her toes curled impossibly, and her legs shook. “Ah- Ah- MHA! Captain-“ Top of her body twisted as her head rolled to the side, tears running down her cheeks, and the restless attention of him on her face was humbling.
“SHHH, quiet, little shit ah-“ He whispered. Sweat dripped from his forehead and from the tips of his dark locks, but he ignored it. “You want the entire fucking scouts to hear you?”
The bed creaked loudly, their bodies merging into one, like an animalistic dance. He gripped her legs more tightly, pushing in and out, setting up a pace that seemed to put both of them into a trance. Few messy soppy kisses to her legs as he had them within reach. Y/N bit her bottom lip trying to suppress her moans, leaving restless whimpers and cries of pleasure “Ah ah ah- hmmm,”. She tried but couldn't contain the sounds, but his dick was hitting her cervix as if that was his glorious duty; he folded her as if squeezing her legs against her bouncing tits was somehow helping her not to feel how his dick filled each corner of her. No, it did not help.
“Stop, stop, stop, almost, fuck-” she begged, pressing her legs against his head and trying to control her body from shaking.
Levi laughed roughly, a sound filled with victory and lust. “Want more? Want me to ruin you completely?”
“AH! YES-!” a loud moan as her back arched, head thrown backwards, and eyelids flickering of how good it felt. Nothing that felt like this, as someone pushed her down on the bed, slamming his cock into her, should be healthy, she concluded. “Quiet,” Levi warned, his voice hoarse. He loved how she clenched around his cock, how her pussy milked him with her orgasm. Frowning deeply as the feeling of her clamping down on his dick was too much to handle, a soft, quiet little moan left his gritted teeth. His abs contorted and his white knuckle grip on the sheets made his arm veins pop up.
“Please, Captain, Ah!” Why bother, the sound of the bed should be enough of a clue for the rest. And what if someone thought she was Captain Levi’s slut? What if she opened her legs wide and steady for him to fuck her restlessly? Who cared? Not her, definitely not her, as the only remaining feeling aside from the scorching heat of the pleasure waves around her body was the tingling sensation of her numbed arms and feet.
“Shut the fuck up,” he insisted, looking down at her. His hand around her neck, two fingers pushed down her parted lips. “I fucking told you to keep quiet.”
“NHG!” She choked on them as Levi kept them there while he lost his rhythm, thrusting into her restlessly and messily.
Her eyes watered up, staring into his as she struggled to breathe. The sweaty, panting man fucking her hard and fast, with an unapologetic expression on his face. She attempted to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her go.
"Shhh," he muttered, panting mouth as sweat ran down his face. "Just let me finish this."
Each thrust seemed to drive him closer to the edge. The friction between his dick and her pussy grew more intense, sending waves of pleasure through him. He couldn't care less about being quiet anymore - he just wanted to come, and he wanted her to see him do it.
"You're gonna cum with me," Levi growled, his voice ragged. "Look at me."
Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of fear and desire. Levi's eyes bore into hers, making her shiver with each thrust. She let out a soft whimper, unable to deny him anything anymore. The pleasure was too overwhelming to resist.
"That's right," he praised, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. "Cum with me, you little slut." His thrusts grew more desperate, each one driving him closer to the edge. He needed to come, needed to release the tension building up inside him, and she was his outlet. Her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every twitch, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Tears ran down her eyes into her ears as so did the saliva around his digits drool down her chin, pleading eyes looking into his begging for him to put this to an end.
“MHM-Hmp,” soft humming whimpers that were wordless pleadings of him letting her finally cum.
"You want it?" Levi snarled, thrusting into her harder. "Fuck, you're so damn tight. You love this, don't you?"
Levi couldn't resist anymore, the sight of her tear-filled eyes and pleading look pushed him over the edge. He growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he felt his orgasm approaching. He grinned down at her, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. “Fuck- Aren’t you pretty?” he murmured against her face, almost smiling out of satisfaction.
Both panting in the microspace of the closeness of their faces, breathing each other's ragged puffs of air. Their noses thrusting into each other sometimes as he slammed into her the final times, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over him. Frowned closed eyes, as mewled moans mixed together. Her pussy gripped him tightly, milking him like a vice, and he knew she was cumming too. His eyes met hers, her face a mask of pleasure and pain, and he couldn't help but smirk.
"Not bad," he breathed out, collapsing on top of her. He tried to catch his breath once, twice before he rolled to his side. Finally withdrawing from her slowly and laying flat on his bed next to her. One knee up, arm over his chest, and the other behind his head as a makeshift pillow as his lost eyes glued to the ceiling.
The room was silent except for their heavy breaths, the sweat dripping off their bodies mixing together. His chest raised up and down still erratic as both of them slowly blinked. Y/N lay there, panting heavily, her hands still bound behind her back. She could feel the sweat from Levi's body on her, where their skin touched. Her legs were shaking, and her pussy was still throbbing from the intense experience they just had. Her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but smile weakly.
His body twitched from time to time from the stimulation; her body felt like jelly. Completely boneless. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. But as the cold began to creep in, she contorted uneasily and cleared her throat timidly. “Could you…ehm-“
Levi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, still catching his breath. After a few moments, as he came out of his lethargic state, he finally spoke. “Oh yeah.” His fingers began to undo the knot around her wrists. “There.” Y/N rubbed her hands, feeling the blood returning to them. Her eyes focused on the deep red lines and bruises around them, and she grimaced uneasily. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't help but glance at Levi. He shifted, sitting up and rolling off the used condom before tossing it into the bin close to the nightstand.
He stood up slightly to pick something up from his nightstand and also to push the blanket closer that was at the bottom of the bed. She tugged a bit from the sheets to cover her body as the moment slightly washed away, and nudity felt obscene and unnecessary. Levi let the blanket crumple around his hips as he turned on a cigarette.
"You good?" Levi asked, taking a puff from it and leaving the cage back on the nightstand. He looked at her, examining her bruised hands and the red marks from the ropes. A small frown appeared on his face, but he quickly hid it.
Y/N nodded, biting her lip. The marks on her wrists stung, but she didn't want to complain. She slowly sat up, trying to regulate her breathing. The room was still filled with a mix of their sweat and the scent of their passion. Her eyes caught on his lips, more precisely the cigarette. They were rather new now that they discovered the world outside the walls.
Levi looked back at her, at her silence, and casually took a last puff from it before placing it in her lips. “There, have it,” he offered. “You know how it works, right?”
She placed both fingers around it and smoked patiently as she hummed and nodded in approval. Somehow, that made him scoff entertained. “Of course you do, MPs always get used to luxuries rather quickly.”
As the smoke left her lips, she returned it. Y/N hesitated, still rubbing her wrists. She couldn't help but wonder if she should be honest. "Ehm—" she pondered around how to approach the topic, her voice shaky. "Was that… good enough? For the promotion?”
Levi glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she smoked the cigarette. The smoke swirled around them, marking the end of their intimate moment. He took the cigarette back and flicked the ash away, taking another drag.
"Good enough?" he repeated, a smirk forming on his lips. "Was it?"
She grew nervous as he asked back, not sure what to reply. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at him. "I gave you what you wanted?" She asked, her voice soft but curious. She couldn't help but feel a bit vulnerable, lying there with him after their intimate encounter.
He chuckled softly, his gaze returning to the ceiling.
Levi sighed, extinguishing the cigarette in an ashtray. He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “You want advice for next time?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Let the other person make an offer first, girly. I asked for your support at the camp so I had an excuse to give you a recommendation; I’ve already heard about your struggle from one of your friends. I had the stupid letter written before you even set foot inside this building."
He paused for a moment, turning his head to look at her. The smirk never left his face.
"But since you offered yourself, I wasn’t going to say no.”
Y/N's face flushed red, feeling embarrassed and a bit betrayed. She bit her lip as she looked at Levi, trying to process what he had just said. Then she scoffed offended, pushing him by the shoulder a bit playfully but also with anger.
"So it was all for nothing," she exclaimed, disappointment evident in her voice and obviously irritated. Holding the crumpled sheets against her chest, “You’re an asshole!”
Her eyes closed in reflex as she noticed his hand moving closer to her face, wrinkling her nose and pushing backward in self-defense. But Levi’s index fingers only softly pushed her frown playfully, and he said, “And you’re too naïve for being an MP,” Levi snorted, rolling his eyes.
Levi watched her move, a small smile on his lips. He slid his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge; his body still feeling sore. To her surprise, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over her head playfully.
"You shouldn't have done that," Y/N muttered, her cheeks still flushed. She took the blanket off her head, which only made her hair even more tangled, glaring at him. "I thought you actually meant it."
Levi smirked, standing up and pulling on his pants. "You really thought I'd turn down an offer like that?" he asked, clearly amused. He reached for his shirt, still smirking at her.
"Get some sleep, I don’t use the bed anyways," he said, zipping up his pants. "But don’t get used to, this isn’t a hotel."
He crossed the door of his bedroom and closed it behind him as she mocked his reply and cursed under her breath.
Walking down the corridors, everybody running to be somewhere else. That’s what the capital is like, always a new pub to discover, always a better party to attend than the previous weekend. Hot and dirty like the vicious air of the underground that laid underneath their boots. Her friends made plans as they called out for the week, writing their names and working hours down on the cards at the front desk. Yellow paper flowed under the conflicted air of the reception office, names written down with different calligraphies and a restless pen swinging as it hung from a cord to the forms.
‘Volunteers,’ it read at the top. The last row was empty, but it was quickly filled out.
‘Squad leader: Y/N L/N’
One of her friends who was eagerly talking to the rest turned around and frowned, confused. “Why are you wasting your weekend volunteering for the Scouts,” she asked, frowning in disgust, “You’re already a squad leader, Y/N, don’t sell yourself short.”
Her fingers gracefully placed the pen back on the table as a smile raised on her features. Adjusting her purse around her shoulders, she casually said, “You know, it’s important to remain humble.”
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— IT’S SO SWEET
pairing: jason todd x best friend!reader
summary: the 3 times jason takes care of you and the 1 time he lets you do the same. alternatively, jason thinks he's invincible, but his best friend needs to be protected at all costs.
warnings: unedited. again. pls don't kill me. swearing, kissing, mentions of blood/weapons/injuries, mentions of periods, reader is a nursing student, best friends to lovers!!! <3
author’s note: *shoves it at you* another one of these fics with the same format, this time with jason :) listen to 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex while reading this btw. and let me know what you think!! drop an ask or a message, don’t be shy!💌
1. when finals are going to kill you.
Sometimes you think being a vigilante like your best friend is worth the constant risk of dying if it means you never have to open another textbook again. When you voice this to Jason, he scowls like you've just threatened to kill a kitten in front of him.
"That's not funny. Don't even joke about that," he scolds, still frowning at you from the opposite end of your kitchen island. His Red Hood suit is sprawled out in front of him as he stitches up a loose hem, compliments of the last goon he most likely beat to a pulp. You make a face at the fact that his sleeve is covering your anatomy notes, ignoring the way he leans down in attempt to catch your eye. He resorts to snapping his fingers in your face. "Hey. Hey, I'm serious."
"Jason," you sigh, setting down your pen and resting your chin on your hand as you talk to him. "I'm studying for nursing school finals in my kitchen, because I didn't want to walk the five more steps it takes to get to my bedroom after making instant ramen. Do you really need me to tell you I'm not being serious about becoming a vigilante?"
His shoulders relax very slightly, but his expression stays annoyed. "You're going to give me an entire head of grey hair before I'm even thirty."
"Well, at least we know it'll suit you," you say through a yawn as you point to the white streak running through his hair. "So, if anything, you're welcome."
He gives you another withering glare, going back to his stitching. The tiny needle in his large hand distracts you for a minute until you realise that Jason has stopped sewing and you're actually staring into nothing now. He notices your eyes that have glossed over and immediately reaches over to slam your textbook shut, startling you back to attention. It isn't until he does this that you feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, emphasised by the knot in your neck and the cramp in your writing hand.
Jason drags your textbook away from you, along with your notes. You take a second to appreciate how careful he is not to crease the pages, knowing you'd lose your mind. "Okay, you're done for today."
"Huh?" you mumble stupidly, his words registering in your mind too late and you realise he's just hijacked your study material. "Wh- Hey! Give it back, Jay, I have-"
"Finals, I know. Last I checked, you need to be alive to take finals and I don't see that happening unless you take a nap," he says, voice a little too calm for someone who you're about to pounce on and claw at until you get your textbook back. You sluggishly clamber off your stool and step in front of Jason, who immediately raises his arm to hold your textbook out of reach.
You look up at him and attempt an intimidating glare. "Hand over the textbook, Todd."
Jason raises his eyebrows, huffing out an exasperated laugh. "Lift one of your arms to get the book and its yours."
Your finger doesn't so much as twitch, but you sway a little until you reluctantly accept that maybe he's won this one. And maybe a nap does sound pretty good right now, you think with a groan, dropping your head so it rests on Jason's chest. Your arms hang floppily at your sides. "I'll kick your ass after my nap," you mumble into his shirt.
"I'm terrified," he deadpans, and you hear the thud of the textbook on the counter before his large hands come up to grip your waist so he can walk you backwards to your couch, knowing you well enough to anticipate your grumbles if he were to attempt to take you all the way to your bedroom. You smile into his chest.
"You've met your match, Red," you say as dramatically as you can for someone who's practically the equivalent to a sack of potatoes against Jason right now. When you feel the back of your legs hit the couch, you grip onto the bottom of Jason's shirt and tug at the fabric before he can let you go. "You're my human pillow, where do you think you're going?"
Before he can answer, you nudge him onto the couch and he obediently lies down so you can nestle in next to him and plop your head back onto his warm, muscled chest. You blame your exhaustion for your shameless behaviour.
Despite the tiredness, you can't help irritating Jason just a little bit more. "Hey, Jay. What would my vigilante name be?"
"Shut up," he says without any bite, resting his chin on top of your head. You snicker into his shirt, half delirious with fatigue but awake enough to feel his face moving as he smiles when he thinks you're not looking.
"Something cool. Like Nightwing," you mutter sleepily, poking the bear.
"What? Nightwing is not as cool as-" Jason starts incredulously, but cuts himself off. "Whatever. Go to sleep."
You hum, eyelids feeling heavy and you start drifting off, the last thing you register being Jason's fingertip tracing circles on your back.
When you wake up, Jason and his suit are gone, but you have a blanket tucked around you and a box of your favourite cookies on the coffee table.
2. when, apparently, you aren't immune to the streets of gotham.
Considering you live in the most corrupt city in the world, you probably should be a little more cautious about going out at night. It's not like you don't take precautions, though. Like every woman in Gotham, you're loaded with pepper spray every time you leave the house. Unlike every woman in Gotham, you also have multiple vigilantes in your phone with whom you share your location with.
Even then, you aren't stupid enough to step into any alleyways. You wish that were enough to stay out of trouble, but as soon as you realise the streets have completely emptied while you've been distracted with your thoughts, you start panicking a little.
You're fine, you reassure yourself as you slide your phone out your pocket to pull up your recent texts. You keep your screen open just for some reassurance, gripping the sides of your phone tightly when you hear some distant footsteps.
It's only ten more minutes to the convenience store, so you're more irritated than scared when you hear the footsteps quicken behind you, catching up. Your fingers fumble to text an SOS to Jason, but you accidentally tap send on your chat with Dick instead. With slightly shaky hands, you try and send one to Jason as well, hoping it's gone through when your phone is suddenly knocked out of your hand.
"Oh, for the love of-" you hiss, when you hear the cracking noise of your screen against the pavement and you don't risk reaching down to grab it. Instead, you turn around slowly to face a dark figure, clad in a cliche, all-black outfit and stood in a threatening stance. God, you hate Gotham.
"Hand over your-"
"Wallet, money, most prized possession," you cut the man off, probably very stupidly. "I know the drill, hang on."
He falters for a moment before anger clouds his expression and he pulls out a knife before you can get your wallet out. You try not to sigh in relief. For anyone else that might sound crazy, but knives you could manage. Being best friends with Jason Todd means of course you've been made to learn self-defence. Disarming someone with knives was doable enough to learn as a nursing student. Guns, on the other hand, are out of your league.
The fact that you know how to defend yourself doesn't make the knife look any less threatening and sharp, though.
"Hey, look, I'm not gonna be difficult," you say, dropping your voice to a low murmur as though you're trying to coax a cat out of a tree. "I'll give you my money."
"Yeah. Yeah, you do that," he rushes out, sounding confused. You kind of feel bad for him. Most people confronted with a mugger would probably be a lot more scared than you're acting and it's clearly throwing him off his game. You almost regret bothering to send your SOS and as you're thinking about how you're going to apologise to Dick for wasting his time, you go to grab your wallet to try and stall before the mugger becomes violent. "Stop! Put your hands up. I'll grab it myself."
You furrow your brows, about to argue that no, he fucking won't. But you see that the man's face suddenly becomes ten times paler than before and he's looking behind you instead. Your shoulders sag with relief as you spin around to see Nightwing in all his black and blue glory.
"Is there a problem, ma'am?" he lowers his voice an octave and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He seems to be focusing hard on acting like strangers, because anyone with eyes would see the problem very clearly in the form of a man wielding a knife.
"Please, help me," you respond, drily. Dick raises a brow at your flippant attitude, so you clear your throat, kicking it up a notch. You glance at the man behind you and try to look more terrified than you feel. "Please help me, Mr Nightwing. This guy's got a knife, and he's going to stab me with it."
The man frantically shakes his head, dropping the knife immediately and backing up. "I wasn't! I swear, man, I was just trying to scare her. Look, I'll just-"
"Hey." You hear another familiar voice boom, this time through a modulator. You sigh, lifting your head to see Jason, all the more threatening as Red Hood. His guns are already in either hand by his side and you have to respect the mugger for not passing out where he stands. If you didn't know it was Jason behind that mask, you'd be terrified to death. He tilts his head, evaluating the man. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Nowhere, I-"
"Exactly," Jason's warped voice comes out tight, and you hear the cocking of his gun, making you whip around to send a panicked look to Dick. He runs closer to you and you drop your voice to a whisper.
"I've got Hood, you take care of the guy."
"Don't do anything stupid," he says, not unkindly and the two of you snap into action.
You run back over to the mugger and step in front of him, making Jason falter in his movements and lower his gun. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths like he's exercising real control. "Move."
You stay as still as possible, arms splayed out in an attempt to cover the man behind you, despite the fact that Jason definitely possesses the skill to take him out even with you in the way.
"Put your guns away," you hiss when Dick has successfully restrained the man out of earshot and is dragging him away with ease. Jason steps towards them, but you stay in his way, using both hands against his chest to stop him. It's more of a symbolic gesture than anything, since you know you wouldn't be able to budge him an inch even if you threw yourself at him with full force. He stops anyway, looking down at you with his hands gripping his firearms tightly. "He was practically harmless. Let Nightwing deal with him. Please."
You're talking him down, trying to waste time so Dick can leave before Jason is able to do anything. You know you've succeeded when he tucks away his weapons, albeit reluctantly. Dick is too far away with the man now, anyway.
"What the hell were you doing out at this time?" he says, raising his voice instead of the usual quiet, deadly anger he reserves for the people who deserve it. It's how you know he's worried, when he doesn't try and control his temper. "And without dropping me a text first, so I could check on you? You do understand where you live, right?"
"Don't yell at me!" Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence and you feel your lower lip tremble slightly. Jason stills. You refuse to cry, cursing your damn hormones and the fact you're a woman and the fact that you're cramping again. You aren't in the mood to talk to Red Hood right now. You want Jason. "And turn off your stupid voice thing!"
He obliges quickly, stepping closer to you. You're angry at one less thing now that his voice is back to normal. "I'm sorry for yelling. Please don't be upset with me, I was just worried-"
"You were going to kill that guy."
"Damn straight," he fires back, defensive again.
You glare at him and he has enough sense not to speak further. Shaking your head, you let out a frustrated groan. "He was a lousy mugger. That hardly deserves a bullet through the head."
"Are you forgetting that he had a knife?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up. Suddenly, as though he's remembering something, Jason folds his arms across his chest. "Why'd you call D- Nightwing for help first?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. How about next time, I'll ask the guy with the a knife if he can hold off for a second while I select the right contact number!" you grit out, hit with another wave of cramps, extremely tired of this conversation. "It was an accident, you idiot. I meant to text you first."
You can't see Jason's expression beneath his Red Hood mask and you aren't going to ask him to remove it in the middle of the streets, but you imagine he's mollified with the way his shoulders relax a bit.
Huffing, you walk away to get your phone, gingerly picking it up to inspect the newly made cracks all over. You vaguely register Jason standing over your shoulder before you shove your phone in your pocket, a problem for tomorrow. You turn around to face him and clutch at your lower stomach, breathing turning shallow.
"I was on my way to the convenience store," you explain, gritting your teeth. "I assume you're coming with me now?"
"Why did you need to go so late?" he questions, typically not letting it go. Instead of responding, you screw your eyes shut and puff out a few pained breaths. He immediately grips your shoulders and begins inspecting you. "What? Are you hurt? What happened, did he get you?"
"I have cramps, you ass," you groan, shoving his hands away. He ceases looking for an injury, and you don't need to ask him to remove his mask to know that he's relieved. "I was going to the store so late because I'm out of my sanitary products."
"Oh," Jason says gruffly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice due to his excessive worry. "Well, I kept a whole box of pads and stuff from the other month in my apartment. It's closer, come on."
You sag with relief, dragging your feet to follow him as the two of you walk to his place. You're in his apartment so often that you're not surprised it's stocked up with period products as well as your usual things for when you stay the night. You feel a funny little flip that has nothing to do with cramps when you consider how he kept everything.
"Do you need me to carry you?" Jason asks, completely serious, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I know how bad the cramps can get."
"I took some meds a couple hours ago, they're not the worst yet," you explain, shaking him off and trying not to think about him offering to carry you all the way to his apartment just because you have cramps.
You reach his complex quickly and he sends you up while he enters through the fire escape from a back alley as not to expose Red Hood's living quarters. By the time you've entered through his door, Jason is already there, judging by his helmet sitting on his kitchen counter.
"Be out in a second," he calls from his bedroom and so you flop down on his couch, face down in one of the cushions as you try to think about something other than the sharp needles stabbing your lower belly. He walks out while you're writhing in pain and sets down some pads, two painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table. "Here, take them now and go sleep in the bed. There's some snacks in my nightstand if you get hungry. Do you need me to stay home?"
You reluctantly turn over onto your back and see that he's also holding your fluffy panda hot water bottle. You might combust, there and then. Pouting, you reach out for the panda, grabbing it to hold it close to your body and sighing at the slight pain relief. "I'm okay, you can go back to patrol. Thanks for looking after me, Jaybird."
"It's nothing," he shrugs, turning away to hide the pink flush appearing on his cheeks and grabbing his helmet. He shoves it on quickly and you try not to let out an unattractive snort of laughter. He turns on his voice modulator. "Text me if you need anything."
With that, he slips out of his window, making sure to shut it tightly behind him. You stay on the couch after knocking down a couple of painkillers and try to entertain yourself with some TV while you wait for Jason to come back.
You mournfully scroll through your phone, trying not to cut your fingers on the broken glass. The actual phone seems to be giving up on you as it takes forever to click on one thing to the next. Giving up, you toss it on the table and close your eyes. Making make a mental list in your head of things to do tomorrow, you add buying a new phone to it and prepare to say goodbye to a healthy chunk out of your bank account.
You don't remember dozing off, but your alarm startles you awake and you grab around for it on the nightstand next to you. Turning it off, you decide to brave the world outside the comfy sheets and realise you're in Jason's bed. He must have gotten back late and put you there, you think with a smile, suddenly happier than you were when first waking up. This happy attitude sours a bit when you nick ur finger on the broken glass of your phone screen trying to turn off the rest of your alarms.
Making your way out of his room and following the smell of toaster waffles, you see Jason plating up some breakfast for you. "Morning," you yawn, plopping down on a kitchen stool. "How was patrol?"
"Same old," he says, giving you the usual, non-descriptive answer. For all you know, he could have taken down an entire drug ring single-handedly and you'd be none the wiser. He sets down a plate in front of you, as well as a rectangular box. "Here."
You inspect the box, confused and wanting to focus more on the food before you process what it is and your jaw drops. "Jason Peter Todd. What the hell did you do!"
"Your phone broke," he says, gruffly, clearly trying to downplay the fact that he bought you a brand new smartphone, a later model than the one you already have. "Don't make a big deal out of it."
"Of course I'm going to make a big deal, Jay," you say, frowning. "I was going to get one myself today. Why did you waste your money on me? How much was it?"
"Don't worry about it," he says flippantly, plating up his own waffles. You should have known better than to ask. There's no way he's taking money from you.
You sigh, shoving your waffles and the phone out of the way to make your way over to him. "Jay," you say softly, grabbing his face in your hands. His eyes widen slightly and you fight the urge to smile. "I can't accept it."
"I said it was nothing," he replies, furrowing his brows and you release his face in favour of hugging him instead. "And it's not a waste if it's on you. You're taking the phone."
"It's everything," your voice comes out muffled by his hoodie. The cost of a phone really is nothing to Jason. It wouldn't have made even the slightest dent to his bank account, but that's not the point. "You need to let me take care of you for once. Oh, one more thing."
He hums in question, resting his chin on your head and wrapping his hands around you.
"If you buy anything for me again, I'm cutting a heart shaped hole in your suit."
Jason huffs out a laugh and you feel the vibration through his chest. "What about the coffee I get you after class every Friday?"
You stay silent.
He snorts, knowing he's got you. He drops a kiss on your head and grins when you look up to frown at him. "That's what I thought."
3. when this guy just won't take a hint.
Jason owes you big time. You've had the longest week of your life and yet here you are, in a floor length, dark red dress and heels, for crying out loud.
Realistically, this is the least you could do for him, showing up to a gala thrown by his father to keep him company. You're more than happy to do this as a favour to him, but that fact doesn't make the heels pinch at your toes any less.
"I haven't worn this dress since high school," you grumble, twisting it around your waist where it fits snugly. You're thankful for the fact that it falls loosely past your waist, or you'd have ripped it from your body by now. "If I eat one thing, it might actually tear."
"I'll give you my jacket when you spot the appetisers," Jason says, absentmindedly. You squeeze his bicep gently in thanks from where your arm is looped in his as he leads you into the venue. "Anyway, we'll be in and out, as always. Just making an appearance for Bruce."
"In and out," you repeat, lowering your voice as the two of you enter a more populated area. You know even though Jason moans about these events, he wouldn't be here if he really didn't want to be. He cares, even though he'd never admit it.
Groups of businessmen, celebrities, entrepreneurs; basically a bunch of rich people who are dressed in clothes that are definitely more expensive than your rent are milling about, every one of them with a drink in their hand. Their unwavering smiles and the constant trips to the bar are nothing new and you wrinkle your nose at the atmosphere of the place. "Do they even know what charity Bruce is throwing this for?"
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Bruce could be throwing this thing for homeless badgers and they'd be none the wiser," he mutters, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. Rolling his neck, he takes a deep breath. "I should go say 'hi' to him, while he's talking to a bunch of people. Prove that I actually showed up. You wanna come?"
You almost agree, not wanting to be left alone, but just before you reluctantly trudge over to a group of Bruce's boring business associates, you thankfully spot Jason's brothers by the bar. "I'll just go hang out with Dick and Tim, is that okay? I can come with though, if you want."
"Nah, go ahead," he says, detangling his arm from yours and giving you a reassuring smile. "Come grab me when they start getting annoying."
"Be nice," you warn, gently shoving him towards the group of men as you make your way to Dick and Tim.
"Hey," Tim greets you with a smile, glancing up quickly before returning to his phone. He does a little double take, eyes snagging on your dress and his smile turns devious. "Well, you look nice. You're wearing a very... nice colour..."
"Tim," you heave a deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes, but he can't help the corners of his lips quirking up. "You can't keep doing this every time I wear red."
"I'm not doing anything, just making an observation," he shrugs, rocking back and forth on his heels in an attempt to look casual. Tim glances around to see make sure no one is in earshot before lowering his voice. "Hey, totally unrelated, but I heard Jaybird nearly shot a guy for almost mugging you."
"Tim."
"Leave her alone," Dick intervenes before Tim can needle you further. He definitely enjoys it too, but ever the golden boy, he seemingly wants to keep the peace. "How are you doing after that, anyway?"
"Fine," you nod reassuringly. "Thank you, again for showing up, Dick. I really appreciate it."
"Don't be silly, it's-"
"I heard he got you a brand new phone, too," Tim pipes up, cutting his brother off.
"Tim," you groan, thwacking him in the arm with your clutch. He barely flinches. "For the last time, Jason and I are just friends."
Tim opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes dart behind you and he thinks better of it, choosing to just smirk like the troublemaker he is.
"That's good news." You whip around to locate the source of the voice, finding yourself looking at a guy you've never met before. He seems to be around your age, dressed smart and very rich looking. You stand there stupidly.
"For who?" you ask, chuckling nervously.
He shrugs, giving you a charming smile. "Anyone who wants to buy you a drink. May I?"
Understanding dawns on you and you glance at Dick and Tim with wide eyes, feeling a little awkward that they're here for this interaction. Dick keeps his expression carefully neutral as he considers the man, whereas Tim frowns when he meets your eyes, jerking his head as subtly as possible in Jason's direction.
This has you glaring at him and just to prove a point, you plaster on a wide smile of your own and return your attentions to the stranger. "Yes. You may."
The two of you walk closer to the end of the bar and away from the others. You pointedly don't look at them. "What was your name?" you ask the stranger, mostly for the sake of being polite.
"George." A rich guy name, you think to yourself. If Jason were here, you know he'd have a million things to say.
He asks your name and you give it to him as he orders you a drink without actually asking what you want.
"Pretty name," George remarks, handing you a glass of something you've never had before. You pretend to take a sip, smiling in thanks. "So, what's your story?"
You try not to outwardly cringe at the question, sorely regretting tonight's decisions despite the fact you've been here less than half an hour. "I'm just here to keep my friend company." You keep the story short, not bothering to explain how you know the Wayne family.
"Ah, well. I dont blame you for looking so bored. I'm just here because I have to be as well," he mutters, swirling the contents of his glass. "Business connections and such."
"Oh." You find yourself being less and less interested in this conversation. "Do you know what the fundraiser tonight is for?"
"God, no," George laughs, taking a sip of his drink. You try your hardest not to grimace, mentally checked out of the conversation already. "It's always the same shit, anyway. Forget all that. Drink up and we can get out of here."
You nearly choke on your own saliva at his sheer confidence and set down your drink. "I really shouldn't. I'm, uh, I'm okay staying here."
"Aw, come on," he leans in a little closer than you'd like and you try to look as imperceptibly as you can for Dick or Tim, but it seems they've left you to face the consequences of your own actions. Traitors. "You don't look like you're enjoying yourself. What, you don't like me-?"
"Hey." You feel Jason's presence at the same time as hearing his voice. You almost laugh at how relieved you suddenly feel and you and relax into his hold when he places both hands on your waist. Jason drops his voice to a murmur that only you can hear. "Ready to go home?"
You nod, turning to leave. About to bid a quick goodbye to George as not to be rude, you open your mouth but get stopped in your tracks.
"She's fine right here, man," George says, voice as smooth as glass. If the glass is shattered into sharp, pointy spikes that are as uncomfortable as this conversation, that is.
Jason's previously polite smile hardens as his front is now practically plastered against your back. "She can talk for herself."
"She was actually just-"
"She's right here," you interrupt, squirming out of Jason's arms to step back. He drops his hands immediately, but doesn't look at you. Instead, he assesses George through a narrow eyed gaze. You can't decide if George is being brave, or stupid for not cracking under the weight of Jason's intense glare as he stands there, all six foot two of him posing a threatening picture. "Right, well. I'm just going to-"
"Hey, hold on," George says, averting his all-too arrogant gaze back to you and gripping your upper arm, jerking you slightly. You flinch a little when he moves into your personal space. "You aren't going to give me your number?"
His grip doesn't hurt, but it's a world away from gentle and you almost gape at the fact he doesn't seem to be aware of how uninterested you are.
Jason immediately clocks this, stepping forward. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so," he says darkly and then he shoves at George. Hard.
The people nearest to you gasp and titter when they see George careening into the stools at the bar and you slap a hand over your mouth, shocked. Shocked that Jason had actually gotten violent as Jason and not as Red Hood. All over a random creep, no less.
Before George even has the chance to recover from the surprise of Jason's brute force, you pull harshly on Jason's suit jacket, steering him out of the venue and into the hall. He follows you without protest, still breathing heavily.
"What the hell was that?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, despite being alone out in the entrance hall.
"He grabbed you," Jason says slowly, as if he's confused as to why you're upset. His expression is tight, like he's being careful to control his anger even now that you're away from George. "I would have done a lot fucking worse to him if you hadn't dragged me out of there."
"You cannot go all Red Hood when you're Jason! It's suspicious as hell. Not to mention how you were practically back-hugging me like some sort of reverse bulletproof vest."
"I always do that," Jason says, calmly. The fact that he isn't raising his voice just spurs you on to raise yours higher. The multitude of emotions swirling around in a confused whirl around your stomach makes you nauseous.
"You hate being touchy in public," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Last month, you punched Tim in the stomach for putting his arm around your shoulder. Anyway, that's not the point! You're so occupied with trying to take care of everyone that you never consider yourself. Or let anyone else do so. Yeah, that guy was an asshole. But he was just an asshole trying to talk to a single girl. He wasn't some... some crime boss or villain or evil freaking mastermind for you to take down!"
"I don't need looking after. And he didn't know you were single," Jason scoffs, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, mussing it up. If you weren't so irritated, you'd take a moment to appreciate how much you prefer it when he looks like this. Real and raw, like the current expression on his face rather than closed off and emotionless. "You came here on my arm, wearing my colour, like Tim's always fucking going on about. You... you're my..."
"Your what, Jason?" you ask, hysterically. You're almost yelling now, finally ready to snap at Jason's inability to share his thoughts with you. He stays silent, face going blank again, an indication that he's closing himself off to you. Your shoulders sag from exhaustion. "Come talk to me when you can give me an answer. I'm going home, I'll get Dick to give me a ride."
You don't wait for a response as you walk back into the venue. Thankfully, Dick is near the entrance and you don't have to subject yourself to too many stares before he takes you home. You don't glance at Jason on your way out.
4. when he asks for your help.
You're moping. You don't bother trying to deny it, but you're definitely moping around your apartment since your fight with Jason. You wake early every day and get dressed and study, but your movements are almost robotic in nature.
Dick has tried texting you a few times, but you've decided to just avoid looking at your phone, because it's the one Jason bought and it just makes you feel even worse. You aren't sure if Jason's tried contacting you, but your phone stops going off around the same time as Dick's evening patrol and you don't let yourself dwell on it further.
The two of you have never gone this long without speaking and aside from the pit of unease in your stomach as well as the sadness hanging over you like a dark cloud, you're also just bored. You have acquaintances from your nursing course, but no one close enough to do anything with this late at night.
Oh, well, you think to yourself, Chinese food and Grey's Anatomy for the second night in a row it is.
You take a quick shower, standing under the hot water for longer than necessary to let the time pass. Getting out, you change into your second pyjama set of the day, opting for a hoodie when you feel a chill in your room that wasn't there before.
You go to shut your bedroom window with a frown, not remembering why you opened it. The handle is stiff and you internally curse your landlord for still not fixing it as you finally succeed in shutting the damn thing after a particularly hard tug.
It shouldn't have taken that much energy out of you, but you're panting when you walk out of your bedroom to enter the living room so you can sit in front of the TV and order the takeout that you probably shouldn't be eating.
Before you can even attempt to regulate your breathing, you look up in the direction of your couch to find Jason sitting there in his Red Hood suit and slap a hand over your mouth to smother your shriek.
"Oh my God," you gasp, your free hand flailing out frantically to grasp the door frame in an attempt to steady yourself. The minute it takes for you to catch your breath is enough time to take in the state of the vigilante sitting in the dark of your living room.
You switch the light on and Jason winces at the sudden brightness, but you take the opportunity to give him a thorough once over. His dark hair is disheveled and falling into his eyes from hours of confinement in his helmet and he has a fresh bruise blossoming across his cheekbone.
You hardly ever use the main light, usually opting for a warm-toned lamp instead, so when the main light casts the cuts and scrapes on Jason's body in a harsher light, you want to turn it off even more.
Jason's eyes flutter shut for a second and you immediately rush forward to assess him for any injuries causing major blood loss. "Did you get stabbed?" you ask clinically, your voice void of any emotion. "Are you bleeding under your suit? You need to stay awake-"
"I'm fine," Jason mutters, opening his eyes to peer up at you through tired eyes. "I'm not bleeding or anything. Just wiped out from patrol."
You relax slightly, taking a step back to create some distance between the two of you. "Oh. You snuck through my window to tell me that you're tired?"
"Anyone could have snuck through that damn window," he says, brows furrowing in disapproval. He's been hassling you about the security of your apartment since you can remember and you usually wave him off, but in this moment you bristle.
"You don't get to be annoyed at me right now," you say, crossing your arms and glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you here, Jason?"
He grimaces at the use of his government name coming from you and takes a deep breath. "I haven't slept."
"So, go home and take a nap," you say, exasperated, letting your hands fall to your side as you're about to turn around and walk back into your room. Before you leave, you hear your Nursing teachers' voices in your head, reprimanding you and you sigh. "And you want to clean those cuts before they get infected."
"Could you do it for me?" Jason asks quietly, barely audible. His jaw clenches with the effort of asking you the question. "Please?"
You blink at him. "But, I- You've never..." you trail off, not knowing what to say. Jason has always refused to let anyone else patch him up after patrol. Hell, he's even learned how to do stitches on himself when you're the one learning how to do them for a living.
"I want... to let you look after me," he whispers, looking at you imploringly like you're going to refuse. Your irritation immediately melts into something else that you don't want to analyse any time soon.
"Oh," you exhale softly, heart twisting unwillingly. You nod slowly, words escaping you again. "Okay."
Jason's head flops back onto the couch cushion and he sighs like all of the tension is leaving his body. His hair covers his eyes, but you don't miss the dark circles under them, contrasting starkly with his skin, pale from exhaustion.
You consider letting him stay there, but you know it'll be easier in the bathroom where you keep all of your first aid supplies and the lighting is better for when you're practicing your techniques. "Come on. Up," you say, gesturing to the bathroom with a jerk of your head and you walk away, allowing him to come in his own time.
While you're digging through your bathroom cabinet for all the supplies you've haphazardly thrown in after using them, Jason slips in and you glance over at him quickly. "Sit down," you mutter, reaching up for the disinfectant. It sits on one of the higher shelves and you have to get on your tiptoes to reach it. Jason instinctively moves to help you but you shoo him away, managing to grasp it yourself. "Sit down."
"Yes, nurse," he huffs out a quiet laugh and you bite back a smile, opting to roll your eyes at him instead. Setting your supplies down behind Jason, you focus your attentions on unzipping his suit. The way his arms are resting limp in his lap tells you that he's not wanting to move anytime soon. You bring the zipper down yourself and pull off each sleeve cautiously, not wanting to rip the suit further where the torn fabric is clinging to the bloody cuts in his skin.
Once the suit is hanging loosely around his waist, you see from the black tank he's wearing that the cuts are localised to his now bare arms from where he's been defensive, whereas the fabric on his chest and abdomen are intact.
Jason's eyes track your face as you assess the extent of his injuries and when you lift your face to look at him, he's unabashed, continuing to look directly into your eyes. Your cheeks warm and you stutter out a sentence "I-I'll be right back, one sec."
You rush out of the bathroom and into your kitchen to pull open the freezer and scramble around for a bag of frozen anything. Settling on a bag of peas that you have no intention of cooking anytime soon, you hurry straight back to the bathroom.
Jason eyes the peas warily and you raise a brow, daring him to challenge you. When he stays silent, you move forward to shove the peas onto his cheek where the bruise is a darker red mark than before. He hisses when the icy bag makes contact with his face, flinching away from it.
"Ouch," he mumbles belatedly, giving you a sheepish smile when your mouth sets in a line. You should probably be gentler with him considering it's the first time he's allowing someone to physically care for him and it's you he's choosing to cross that boundary with. It's not like you want to scare him off so he never asks you again, but you can't help still being annoyed with him after your fight.
You sigh, trying to relax your face into a non-threatening expression. "Sorry. Keep it on your face to stop the swelling."
Jason grasps the bag slowly as you let go, letting his fingers brush over your own. You clear your throat and focus your attentions on the cotton pads, dousing them with disinfectant. Jason looks at you through one open eye, the other obscured by the bag of peas. "You shouldn't be the one apologising," he says, after a beat.
You purse your lips, bringing a cotton pad up to Jason's shoulder. "I know," you say simply before you press the disinfectant into one of the larger cuts, harder than probably necessary. Jason screws his eyes shut and works his jaw, but stays quiet. "Did that hurt?"
Jason shakes his head immediately, letting out a short breath he was holding. "Nope. Felt good actually. Kinda like a cooling effe- Shit," he hisses, tensing his arm. You think that's enough torture for now, instead continuing to gently wipe away the blood and dirt.
"I won't apologise about that one," you say, shrugging. Jason cracks a smile and you find yourself hiding one of your own as you clean off the other, smaller cuts and scrapes that don't need bandaging. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Promise I'll be nicer about it this time."
Jason shakes his head again, so you dispose of the cotton pads and get the band-aids, the only noise in the bathroom being the sound of you rummaging through your supplies. When you spot the choice of band-aids, you grin. "Pick one."
Surveying the two that you hold in your hand, Jason's gaze lingers on the dinosaur patterned band-aid, before flicking his eyes up to yours and raising an eyebrow. He points to the other one. "I'll take the Hello Kitty."
Your grin widens, knowing he's only choosing the pink Hello Kitty band-aid to appease you. You're certainly not going to challenge him about it as you carefully peel off the backing to stick it over his shoulder. Stepping back, you tilt your head to evaluate him and nod. "You look very pretty."
Jason smirks, but the slight blush creeping across the cheek that isn't covered by the frozen peas doesn't fool you. "Pretty enough for you to forgive me for being such an ass?"
"That depends." You take a tentative step towards him, crossing your arms. "Are you going to stop being stupid?"
Jason lowers his arm holding the bag of peas and places it behind him. With both hands, he reaches over to your arms, uncrossing them to bring you forward until you're standing close. He's so impossibly tall in your tiny bathroom that even standing up, you're only eye level with him as he sits on the closed toilet seat.
"I can't promise that I'll never be stupid in front of you again. You kind of have that effect on me," he says, sighing like it's some curse inflicted on him. You thwack his rock-solid arm and he grins. "I can promise I'll let you take care of me from now on, though. And that I'm going to stop lying to you."
"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. You're even more confused when Jason places his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap, both your legs hanging off one side of him. You raise both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his answer, but he merely stares at you, smiling. "Jason. When have you lied to- mmph-"
He cuts you off by pressing your lips together in a kiss, one hand still holding yours, intertwining your fingers while the other tilts your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. You're a little slow on the uptake, frozen from shock for a second, but it isn't long until you're kissing him back just as eagerly. You shift in his lap, lifting one of your legs to swing over to his other side until you're straddling him and Jason takes a sharp inhale, sitting up straighter and pulling your body closer to his.
He pulls away for a millisecond, before his lips reattach to your jaw, travelling down to pepper soft kisses down your neck and you let out a noise halfway between a sigh and an embarrassing whimper. Jason groans at the sound, nipping at your neck and you feel like you can't breathe enough air.
He pulls away again to catch his own breath and you take the opportunity to come to your senses and lean back, gently pushing at Jason's chest. You breathe hard, trying to lift your gaze from Jason's swollen lips and he seems to be having a hard time looking away from your own.
"Jason," you say, voice shaky and uneven.
"Mhm?" he hums distractedly, pressing a soft kiss on your jaw before looking at you again.
"You kissed me," you point out, stupidly. "You really, really kissed me."
"I did," Jason murmurs, both hands cupping your face. He swallows, expression going from dazed to nervous before he speaks. "You asked me what you are to me before you left the other night."
You nod slowly, head still reeling from the kiss. Truthfully, you were willing to pretend the conversation never happened if you could go back to being friends again. You missed Jason.
"You're everything to me." Jason's shoulders are relaxed, his face free of tension as he says this. You're so shocked by the fact that he doesn't seem to be in pain as he opens himself up to you, that it takes a minute to process the actual meaning of his words. Your lips part but he shakes his head, continuing to speak. "You're everything. And sometimes I can't even think about that too much, let alone speak it, because I'm scared it'll consume me. I'm scared you'll consume me. The idea of compromising your safety, the idea of you loving me back, all of it. I'm... I was scared."
You lift your hand to place it over Jason's, still resting on your cheek. "That's okay. I can think and speak enough for the both of us," you tease and Jason laughs quietly, his breath tickling the inside of your wrist and sending a shiver down your spine. "You're everything to me as well, by the way. And sometimes all I can think about is loving you. I was just waiting for you to say it first."
Jason smiles and you think the corners of his lips lifting up and his eyes lighting up is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, each time blowing you away like it's the first time you've witnessed it. "Does that mean I lose? Kinda feels like I've won," he tilts his head, pretending to think about it.
"Oh, you've so lost," you furrow your brows in a mockingly serious frown. "And I'll be telling Tim as much."
Jason stills. "Please do not tell me that he bet you fifty dollars I'd confess first as well."
Your jaw drops. "That little bastard was playing both of us?"
You start laughing when Jason lets out an irritated groan, dropping his head onto your shoulder to bury his face in your shirt. You thread your hands in his hair and wrap an arm around his neck. He sighs, half content and half resigned. "I say we don't tell him for as long as we can get away with it. Live in peace for a while."
"We're talking about Tim here," you remind Jason, leaning back to lift his head and look at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. And he'd literally never talk to you again if he knew we were hiding it after he finds out."
"I don't care," Jason says, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles. He leans back to run his eyes over your face, drinking you in like looking at you is a rare occurrence that he doesn't get the opportunity to do much. "You're all I need, anyway."
© angelfic 2024.
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#jason todd scenarios#jason todd smut#jason todd imagine#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fluff#jason todd fic#red hood imagine#jason todd imagines#red hood x reader#red hood x you
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TWTWTWTWTWTW: GORE TWTWTWTWTW
Hi, I love the Yandere Gojo series! I'd like to make a request. My request: Yandere Gojo gives his non-sorcerer lover the worst punishment he's ever seen in his life because she keeps trying to run away… he makes her unable to move or run again. either amputation or broken bones. But in the end, he regrets it very much.
𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓
“𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌”
╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Satoru loves Suguru deeply and he misses the latter so much, so how could he let go off you? How could he let a pretty little thing like you slip through his fingers when you’re literally just like suguru?
╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere (duh) bone breaking, Surgery stuff, Satoru himself is already a warning, Satoru has Capgras delusion disorder, Both Reader and Satoru ended up having shared psychosis disorder. Satosugu.
╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Non-sorcerer reader. Satosugu.
╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: okokok, i know that you didn’t requested satosugu anon, but there’s a reason why there’s satosugu in here, and it’s important in the plot. Hope you understand<3. Broken bones is already a bad punishment, but i’ll add a twist on it;) Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3. Please do support me in wattpad and quotev too<3 i suck at doing angst, sooo.... Idk.. might make a part 2 though.
╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
HE WASN’T THE MAN that you once knew, no longer the gentle soul who showered you with affection. The bond you shared over four years had been pure, filled with love and warmth, until that cursed night , Twenty fourth of December in 2017.
Satoru’s mental state appeared to deteriorate drastically ever since that day. The once warm and affectionate gaze he used to cast on you had now transformed into a cold and distant stare, devoid of any tender emotions.
Sometimes he would blame non-sorcerers like yourself too, grumbling things under his breath like
“You non-sorcerers are the reason why suguru went spiraling”
You didn’t grasp the true meaning of this statement until you did a little digging into Satoru’s past. It was then that you realized you had been living in a state of blissful ignorance.
And after learning about his troubles, instead of scolding him for his erratic behavior and pushing him away, you chose to approach him with kindness and understanding—You felt bad, for you would mostly just yell at him for acting like that, when you didn’t knew the reason why he was like that.
You made every effort to comfort him and show him that you cared deeply for him, to show him how apologetic you are for being so ignorant. However, at times, you also confronted him with harsh truths in order to bring him back to reality.
In these moments of brutal honesty, Satoru took notice of the uncanny similarities between you and Suguru. From the way you conducted yourself to the gestures you made, tie your hair up, everything seemed to echo Suguru’s presence.
The way you spoke, moved, the way your lips would curl up into a smile, the way you would laugh and interacted with others all carried a trace of Suguru’s aura.
And your voice, fuck, the softness of your voice was reminiscent of the way suguru’s voice would soften whenever he talks to satoru.
Despite lacking a clear physical resemblance, the essence of Suguru seemed to radiate from you in all aspects of your actions.
And perhaps, it’s the way that you managed to make him see suguru in you was what made him so obsessed with you. He saw echoes of his beloved friend in your every gesture, your every word. Sometimes, in a strange mixture of jest and earnestness, he would playfully dub you and Suguru, as if to merge the two of you into one entity. Sometimes he would joke about you being suguru’s genderbend.
You found it peculiar yet endearing at first, dismissing it as a harmless quirk borne from grief, as you had always seen it as his coping mechanism. Little did you know, this oversight would prove to be your gravest mistake.
Despite the warning signs he showed, his redflags, you somehow chose to endure it all.
And that was your biggest mistake.
His once-charming gestures now morphed into suffocating constraints, possessiveness, obsessiveness. Slowly but surely, he isolated you from the outside world, severing even the most basic ties of communication with your own family.
Your past talking stage and lovers would be either found dead or missing without any trace. The friends who once stood by your side now regarded you with wary glances, distancing themselves.
Of course, you felt a deep sense of sadness, believing there was a flaw within yourself. And seeking solace and understanding, you opened up to Satoru, shedding tears as you shared the studf that you were facing in your life. In your moments of vulnerability, he offered you comfort, reassuring you that he was all you needed and that you should distance yourself from other individuals. He warned you that these individuals posed a threat to your well-being, emphasizing that their intentions were harmful—and insisting that he was the only one that you need.
As much as you wanted to believe Satoru and trust him completely, your innate intuition stopped you from fully buying into his facade. Because despite his convincing demeanor, a lingering sense of unease tugged at the back of your mind, suggesting that something wasn’t quite right.
Moreover, Satoru showed a tendency to involve himself in even the most mundane of tasks, such as brushing your hair, typically tasks you would manage alone. It seemed as though he viewed you as some kind of doll, someone he could manipulate and control at his own whim. He made sure to always be in close proximity to you, refusing to give you any moments of solitude. The only instances where he allowed you some privacy were during bathing or changing, and even then, he seemed reluctant to leave your side.
His obsession became so intense that he became insistent on your constant presence by his side, whether he was on a mission, teaching, or interacting with colleagues. His students and coworkers all recognized the unhealthy attachment, with Shoko and even Megumi expressing pity towards you for being caught in Satoru’s suffocating love. Despite the visible discomfort from all parties involved, Satoru remained unmoved, justifying his actions to keep you close at all times.
Even when Shoko attempted to reason with him and knock some sense into his fucked up mind, Satoru would manipulate the situation to shift blame onto them, for separating him with suguru—and that they’re the reason why he only has you now.
Nanami also tried to intervene by trying to convince the higher ups to arrange dangerous solo missions for Satoru in hopes of separating you two, but his stubbornness prevailed.
Maki and Nobara also attempted to intervene, even organizing girls’ nights as a means of providing you with a break from Satoru, yet their efforts were futile.
Ultimately, the support from those aware of the situation—Nanami, Megumi, Nobara, Shoko, Maki, and others—proved futile in alleviating the troubling dynamic with Satoru. Despite their best intentions and efforts, your circumstances remained unchanged due to Satoru's unyielding obsession on keeping you with him.
Everyone knew how fucked up he was, but what can they do?
Satoru is the strongest after all.
Your parents weren’t even aware of your situation, as you were not allowed to talk or visit them.
One instance stands out in your memory, when you attempted to say that you want to speak with your parents, and he adamantly refused, claiming it was too perilous. Despite feeling frustrated at the time, you ultimately acquiesced to his wishes. The following day though, a horrifying discovery awaited you— the lifeless bodies of your parents. It was at this moment that you began connecting the dots, reflecting on the untimely death and murder of your previous partners, the gradual alienation of your friends, the look of pity his students and colleagues gives you, the persistent reasoning of people trying to separate you from satoru, his increasing control over your actions, and the coincidental deaths of those you sought to interact with.
The realization dawned on you that all of these events were orchestrated by Satoru himself, with the sole intention of keeping you entirely under his influence. And an overwhelming sense of fear crept into your chest, prompting you to devise a plan to escape while he was on a mission.
🔪🔪🔪
Your entire body was engulfed in pain and weariness, each muscles contracting in pain, your breaths labored and shallow as if your lungs were about to give out—About to rupture, and a searing sensation in your chest as it tightens, heaving with each labored breath you took.
Your feet were raw and bloody, multiple cuts on it from the jagged edges of rocks you have stepped on, perspiration was all over your body in rivulets, and a dry, scratchy feeling in your throat due to lack of moisture and oxygen.
Everything burned, yet you persisted in moving forward, walking a fine line between imminent collapse and the urgent need to evade getting caught by Satoru—your boyfriend.
Rather than face capture, you were willing to risk death in your desperate attempt to escape.
You’d rather die trying to escape than live without trying to fight for your freedom.
The exhaustion consuming you mattered little, all that occupied your mind was the need to break free from his grasp and his control over you.
The passage of time was a blur, perhaps an hour had passed since you began running, your energy waning as your vision blurred with fatigue.
Lost in the vast unknown surroundings, it seemed as though you were trapped in a never-ending loop. Uncertain of your location in Japan, the isolated landscape consisted only of a sprawling mansion, trees, and barren land devoid of any signs of human life. It felt as though you had been completely cut off from civilization.
As you continued running, tears streaming down your face, your mind were spinning and every hair on your body stood on end at the sound of his voice suddenly booming.
“Hm? Is that you that i see there, [Name]?”
You froze.
“What have I told you about leaving without my permission?”
The sound of Satoru's voice sent a shiver down your spine, freezing you in your tracks. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to keep moving, to escape his reach, but the fear of his wrath paralyzed you in place.
“S-satoru.. what are you doing here...?”
You couldn’t comprehend how he had managed to be here when he was supposed to be on a mission. Your mind raced with confusion and disbelief.
“No, what are you doing here?” He asks, staring down at you coldly.
“Are you.. trying to run away?” He questioned you as he stepped closer to you.
Your breath hitched, throat constricting as you looked up at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to say.
“I-i..”
“I-i wasn’t i swear—”
You were left speechless as you were suddenly shoved you down, causing your head to hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood trickled down your forehead as a cry of pain escaped your throat.
His gaze bore down on you with a chilling intensity, sending shivers down your spine.
“You’re trying to leave me..”
“I trusted you,” he whispered shakily.
“How could you? I made sure to go back as soon as possible after my mission was finished so that you won’t be in danger... And now you’re running away and putting yourself in danger?”
Out of nowhere, his hand tightly gripped your throat, squeezing with such force that it became difficult to breathe, leading to a sensation of suffocation and a blurred vision.
“S-satoru n-nnh! L-let go!”
Struggling to break free, you frantically attempted to pry his fingers off your neck, letting out choked screams in the process. Your body thrashed around violently, desperately trying to fend him off by kicking in all directions.
“You’re really just like suguru... always trying to resist..”
“I trusted you,” he whispered unsteadily, his voice cracking.
“But what have you done?” he asked shakily.
His pupils trembled like leaves in a fierce wind, his entire frame quivering with an unsettling intensity. Those piercing sapphire eyes bore into you, sending shivers down your spine in the dim, eerie stillness of the forest.
“L-let go p-please satoru!” You begged.
“P-please. A-ahn.. let g-go, ‘Toru, please,”
“T-toru, haaah, i-i c-can’t breathe”
He seemed to pause at that when you called him “Toru.”
And slowly, his grasp slackened, leaving you gasping for precious breath as your lungs desperately clawed for every molecule of air.
You coughed, again and again and again, and he just watched you.
When you finally managed to catch your breath, you turned to look at him, your face contorted in anger abd fear.
“Y-you’re crazy satoru,” Your voice emerged hoarse and jagged.
“You’re crazy, i swear” You rasped as you dragged yourself away from him, only for him to close the distance.
“Crazy?” he repeated.
“Yes, crazy for love.” His fervor seemed to border on mania.
“Yes I’m Enamored, Suguru.” he professed with an almost unsettling zeal, his voice now carrying a hauntingly romantic lilt as though the torment he inflicted on you was an act of devotion.
Your breath hitched.
“What...?” your eyes widened.
“I’m not... Suguru...” Your voice faltered, delicate lips quivering. Pain pulsed through every fiber of your being, urging you to run away, yet how could you escape from one so consumed by his own distorted reality? Satoru appeared to be in a haze, his eyes vacant and unseeing—He was in his delusional state.
“Suguru, let’s go home..” Satoru mumbled.
You swallowed thickly. You were about to make a dumb move, but fuck, he really needed to snap out of it.
Gently, you cupped his face between trembling hands, hoping your tender touch might pierce the delirium and make him snap out of it.
“Please, ‘Toru, focus on the sound of my voice. It’s not suguru, it’s me”
But he remained ensnared in his twisted visions, oblivious to reality.
“...Satoru... ‘Toru, listen to me. I’m not suguru.”
“I’m not him. I’m [Name], your girlfriend...”
Again, and again and again, you tried to convince him that you’re not suguru.
“I’m [Name], the one that you met at the bakery that you liked so much... And i’m not suguru ”
You phrased it in different words.
And yet...
He was still lost in it.
“What are you saying suguru?”
Dread constricted your heart, each moment bringing you closer to the brink. To flee would surely send him into a frenzy but to stay would probably result in suffering.
“Don’t say things like that... Suguru”
he whispered.
“I still haven’t forgave you for running away.” He uttered, and a pit formed on your stomach.
“I’m [Name], not suguru—Toru... Please, fuck, snap out of it”
He ignored you as he gently caressed your cheek before guiding your head towards his for a kiss. Your heart pounded as your lips met, the sharp sting of his teeth on yours making you whimper.
“S’toru... Stop...”
When he didn’t stop, you reacted by biting his tongue hard, making it bleed. Surprisingly, this did not deter him; instead, he released a soft moan of pleasure.
“Oh fuck... You’re still the same as always, suguru.”
You gasped as he finally pulled away from the kiss.
“Sa-Satoru... What the fuck..?” You shrieked. Why the hell did he said that? Does this meant that... He was in a previous relationship with Suguru? Did he used you as a rebound? No, fuck, he sees suguru in you.
You understand it now.
“I’ll make sure you don’t do it again,” He whispered.
“Huh?”
“Make sure that you don’t massacre a whole ass village again so that they won’t separate you from me...”
Slowly, deliberately, his other hand drifted downward toward your ankle. Your heart drops as you felt him do that.
Oh fuck, he’s not planning on snapping your ankles, is he?
“Satoru, no, no, no, no, no!”
You strained against his crushing hold, but could only witness in horror as his fist closed around the delicate bones.
“If you do that, i’ll never forgive you— AHHH!”
A strangled scream caught in your throat as you felt the unmistakable snap of your ankle splintering beneath his strength.
White-hot pain lanced up your leg and your vision blurred with tears of misery. Before you could process the pain of the first break, his hand was upon your other ankle. You knew what was coming yet were powerless to prevent it. Another sickening crack reverberated through your shattered nerves as satoru callously contorted the joint beyond its limits. Bone fragmented, muscle tore, and ligaments ripped apart, leaving your legs crippled and limp.
🔪🔪🔪
His fingers pressed insistently beneath your chin, a mixture of gentle caress and firm control as he meticulously groomed your hair, each stroke designed to emulate the exact style of Suguru’s locks.
Tying it back partially, he sought to replicate every minute detail, ensuring you bore an eerie resemblance to his obsession—Suguru. But the true horror lay in his pervasive fixation upon you as Suguru incarnate. He paid face surgeons to sculpt and mold your face until the reflection in the mirror bore a warped semblance to Suguru’s features, he would drape you in Suguru’s attire and bestowing upon you the very essence of his fucking bestfriend.
And the worst of it all? he managed to find suguru’s daughters and practically forced you to take care of them—like the way suguru would take care of them. Even suguru’s daughters were horrified — yet they were too scared to even refuse.
All of the horrors that he had made you go through broke you completely.
“Perfect,” he murmured with a self-satisfied hum, stepping back to survey his handiwork.
You just sat there, disoriented, and feeling hollow as an empty shell.
Stripped of your true identity and coerced into being someone else you weren’t. The drugs he administered clouded your mind, the brainwashing eroding your sense of self until you could no longer discern who you are. The only thing you knew is that you’re suguru.
It was a bad punishment, real, real bad punishment.
Your identity was snatched, and you were no longer yourself.
He furrows his brow, observing the silence that hangs between you.
“C’mon speak, suguru.” he urges, his gaze piercing into yours.
“Isn’t it perfect?”
Suddenly, a flicker of realization dances in his eyes as they narrow, scrutinizing the subtle yet noticable difference between your eyes and suguru. The shift is imperceptible to most, but to him, it is a glaring anomaly that demands attention.
A smirk curls onto his lips
“Seems like we need to adjust those eyes of yours as well, huh? Don’t you agree, suguru ?”
Satoru sighed as his calloused fingers tangled themselves in thick ebony locks, pulling your motionless form taut against his chest. An ichor-cold sense of wrongness had settled itself deep in his marrow, its barbs tearing at his insides.
His beloved Suguru was already here... But... Where is his [Name]?
“Nanako and Mimiko would be upset to see you like this suguru...”
RING
RING
Satoru blinked at the sudden shrill clamor emanating from his phone—and he realized that someone was calling him, still cradling your form against his chest with a singular hand. He took the device from his trousers one-handed, calloused fingers opening his phone.
When at last the lock screen dissolved into view, an icy shiver seized his marrowed bones.
It was you—in your normal self, kissing him in the cheek, and you two looked very happy.
Why did suddenly felt wrong?
...
... It felt wrong...
So, so wrong.
Why did nostalgia for your genuine self now claw so vehemently at the fissures in his heart, when only Suguru had the right to reside there?
#𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐇’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere satoru gojo#yandere gojo#yandere satosugu#satosugu#yandere gojo satoru#yandere satoru x reader#yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk gojo#gojo is already a warning#cw: gore#yandere#dark themes#yandere gojo x reader#jjk gojo satoru#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#jjk satoru#satorugojo
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Tf141 x Introducing your Boyfriend after they fucked up.
So I was thinking about a reader who kinda fell in love with her whole squad. You didn't want to.
At first, you fell in love with Johnny, the obvious choice. He was always flirting with you, calling you all these cute Scottish pet names like "hen" and "bonnie", and taking you on dates.
It was perfect until your feelings grew for the stoic, fatherly captain. He was mature, so much more mature than Johnny. He fixed your half-house when you were on leave, always checking if you were safe and making sure you drank enough. It was the perfect combination between Johnny's golden retriever behavior and his strong personality. It was okay in your books to fall in love with two men. It wasn't the first time it happened to someone, right?
You thought you were crazy when the scary lieutenant found his way into your overcrowded heart. He was like a guard dog for you, protecting you from all the creeps on base. And how couldn't you fall in love after he protected you from two men at the bar? Many men said, "I'd burn the world down for you", but the fact about Simon was he really would.
You thought you finally lost it when you were cuddling with your best friend Kyle again, like always. He grew up to be your safe space after a while. You never thought there would be more than platonic love. He was your platonic soulmate until you were pinned under him, getting fucked, with slow thrusts while he repeated over and over again how he loved you since day one. Yes, you're in a fucked up situation.
How could you approach this? After overthinking for straight months, you finally managed to tell them. "You can't love us all, that's batshit crazy," they mumbled, and god, it broke your heart as much as theirs. They never thought about a poly relationship before, but they all loved you and none of them wanted to give up their spot in your heart.
it took you several months to get over this embarrassment. The feelings never left, but you found a new boyfriend who was completely different from all of them. That was good, right? After a while, they got you to introduce your boyfriend to them after a deployment in an overpriced bar your lawyer boyfriend picked in Canary Wharf - The first mistake in their books. Of course, John fit in there with his neat whiskey but come on, this wasn't the place for you guys.
Johnny was the nicest of all of them; he at least had the courtesy to greet your boyfriend and be nice to him. You just didn't realize how he pulled as many jokes as possible, making you laugh for hours, how James couldn't. He was just nice, nothing to worry about, James, you said to him all over again.
Simon took his hand and almost broke it while shaking it, his 6'4" frame towering against your 5'6" boyfriend. He always had a grip on James, whispering in his ears, "And how is a twig like you able to protect my girl?"
By accident, your tires were slashed. "No, James, why should John have done this?" you rolled your eyes. Even worse, your boyfriend didn't know how to change a tire, so you stood there in the rain changing that damn tire while James stood under the umbrella until John came up, "Lovely, go sit in the car, I'll change it." He pulled his sleeves up, flexing his muscular arms while he fixed your problems like always. He was your husband after all, at least in his books.
Kyle hit it off when he walked towards James and whispered in his ear, "I bet you don't satisfy her, does she still taste sweeter than cinnamon there? Does she still get the whole bed soaked in squirt? Does she beg for you?" You didn't believe James when he told you Kyle said that, your Kyle, your best friend? The nicest man on earth ever.
"You're paranoid, James. I think it's better if we call it off," he accused all of your friends of things they never would even do. How could you be with someone so jealous?
"Mhm, broke up with James," you said.
"Was too boring for you, Bonnie",
"was too short for you and couldn't even throw a proper punch",
"couldn't fix a damn tire",
"you deserve someone better, not some jealous loser, what do you even want from a lawyer?"
#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#call of duty#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#captain john price#john price#simon riley#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#johnny mactavish#john my beloved#john mactavish x reader#soap x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle garrick#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#soap mw2#soap cod#john soap mactavish#captain price#captain price mw2#price x reader#price
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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Royal Rivalries !! ´ˎ˗
Luke Castellan x Fem!Zeus!reader
Synopsis: It was the day of your 'contest for suitors' but a recurring man, one you detest, wins the contest
Tags: Royalty AU, cursing, a suicide joke but nothing to crazy
Word Count: 2592
"Ouch," you cried out. "I can barely breathe here!!"
"I'm so sorry princess, but we need to tighten your corset just a bit further" your maid, Margaret, apologized. You rolled your eyes and inhaled as much as you could, finally allowing her to finish tightening your godforsaken corset.
"Never been happier to give up the life that was completely laid out from me," your older sister Thalia laughed from your bed. "Fighting is so much cooler than being a baby factory."
"Hey! I'm not becoming a baby factory, just one for the kingdom to continue. And be glad I so graciously stepped up on your behalf," you crossed your arms.
"Yeah, yeah, love you too," she smiled as she stood to stand next to you in the mirror. "But you know you don't mind being married."
"I want to marry someone for love, not from some 'contest of suitors,'" you groaned. "Doubt I'm gonna fall in love by the end of the night, probably gonna start hating more people if anything."
"Stop acting like you hate so many people, you so cute and loving!!"
"Oh my gods stop. You know I hold my grudges, like Leo and Jason stealing all the lamb puffs!! Let's remember I only forgave Jason because he's our brother," you exclaimed. "And don't you laugh at me you know those are my favorites."
"Hey," she raised her hands. "No laughing here, I love those too."
You both stood in the mirror admiring yourselves. Thalia didn't like wearing dresses, but she still dressed nicely for your big day. You on the other hand were absolutely dressed to the nines. You had a long and poofy dress, it white and covered with Greek inspired gold accents. Despite how cute the dress was, the corset was stopping your circulation while simultaneously making your boobs look amazing, yet still classy. It was the pure definition of give a little - get a little.
"My gorgeous sister, anyone of those bogus princes will be lucky to have you."
"I mean isn't this just a formality? I don't actually have to marry any of them, right?"
Thalia gave you one of her looks, and you already knew the answer. You sighed as you hear a knock at the door, "Come in!"
The door creaked open, revealing your younger brother Jason. "C'mon Y/N, its time."
Thalia squeezed your shoulder before you both walked towards Jason. The three of you made your way to the entrance of the ballroom. Jason stood to your right as Thalia was on your left, the three of you had your arms interlocked as you listened to your father, Zeus, announced you to the suitors below while you walked down the stairs.
As you made it to the bottom, they left your side as the room clapped and you curtsied. Everyone went to their conversations and princes would slowly approach, one you recognized, Leo Valdez!
"Aw, are you and my little brother here to steal more lamb puffs," you joked, though were you really joking?
"C'mon, we were just kids, can we be excused," he laughed.
"Maybe one day, but do it at this party and all bets are off," you pointed your finger in his face. "Anyways, you too young to marry me, what're you doing here."
"I'll take any chance to hang out with my boy Jason, you know how it is. And we'll try not to eat all your food, princess fa-"
"Watch yourself," you playfully glared as you fluffed around his hair and walked off. The rest of the night consisted of many different men coming up to you trying to flirt and claim your hand in marriage, and it was tiring. They come up to you as if they were entitled to, for your time and effort, but not once did they ever ask you about yourself!! It was all me, me, me. YAWN!!
You saw Thalia standing off to the side with her friend Reyna, as you approached them you called out, "Thalia, Reyna."
"Whats up," you sister asked as they both turned to you.
"Please cover me, I need some fresh air without some 'bogus prince' up my ass for three seconds," you pleaded as the two girls laughed.
"We got you," Reyna smiled.
"Yeah go away sis," Thalia shooed and you silently thanked her. You slightly lifted the front of your dress, allowing you to scurry off a little faster. You tried being secretive about your dismissal, but being dressed like a giant snowball (if the gold was yellow snow, that sounds gross), made it quite difficult. Though of course you managed.
You dashed down an unreasonably long hallway till you made it to the balcony that overlooked the massive garden behind the palace. The greenery was absolutely serene, what would you would give to be down there right not, not looking from above on a terrace.
As you stood leaning over the edge, you felt the cool air running through your hair as the moonlight glinted off your tiara. Being a princess was cool, but you didn't know if you were ready for marriage, you were freshly 18. You were knocked out of your thoughts as you heard the door open from behind you.
You dropped your head, "Sorry dad, I just wanted some fresh air."
"Dad? Don't think I'm old enough for an 18 year old daughter," you recognized that voice as you internally groaned. You slowly turned your head and saw a figure standing just behind you. He was tall, with dark curly hair and big brown eyes, but oh my did you wish it was your dad.
"Luke," you said firmly as you turned back around.
"Princess Y/N," he stood next to you, staring off at the garden just as you were. "Now why are you out here and not with your suitors?"
"I wanted a breathe of fresh air away from all the heinous flirting, but as it seems," you looked at him up and down, distastefully, "it follows me everywhere."
"Oh, so you think I'm here for your hand in marriage, that's quite an audacious take is it not?"
"Your in my territory Castellan, one wrong move and I push you off this balcony and claim suicide," he let out an elegant laugh that made an imaginary irk mark appear above your forehead.
"Wow, you really still don't like me?"
"Nope."
"C'mon, we were just kids, you know that."
"And you humiliated me, you know that," you spat out.
Why did you not like Luke? While the two of you were younger, around 14, the both of you were betrothed by your parents. Luke was one of your closest friends, but when it came to the topic of marriage, he was cold and distant, and you couldn't help your adolescent self. You had a minor crush on the boy, 'nothing too serious,' at least that's what you told yourself. Except when a princess of Aphrodite played a foolish tricked, and got him to kiss her, the two were deemed to have more chemistry and better potential for the future of the kingdoms, whatever that meant, and your engagement was nulled.
Most people knew of your crush on Luke, and everyone who did also watched as he completely ditched you for a princess of Aphrodite. You were the talk among kingdoms, and pitied for months. 'Oh poor, princess Y/N, how that Hermes prince completely broke her heart.' It was enraging, that day you decided you didn't want another arranged marriage for convenience, but a marriage for love, thought at this point life didn't seem to be going in your favor.
"Why are you even here," you asked coldly. "You know I don't want to see you."
"Maybe I just wanted to stop by, say hello," you looked at him, you face contorted in a manner that showed him that this was a confusing thing for him to do, considering the history.
"I meant why are you here at all, as in you're already engaged. Isn't you wedding coming up soon?"
"The engagement was broken off," he said. You looked at him and smirked. "Well don't look too excited about it."
"Karma is truly a bitch, is it not?"
"She fell in love with a Hephaestus prince. Sucks, she was gorgeous was she not," it was now his turn to smirk, causing your anger to bubble to the surface as you glared at him.
"You haven't answered me," you shoved his chest. "Why. Are. You. Here."
"Hey no pushing," he looked down at you. "I was just wondering if we could give this whole engagement and marriage thing another shot?"
"You're unbelievable, you cheat on me and manage to get my name dragged through the 12 major kingdoms, and still have the audacity to come back when things don't work out the way you planned??"
"C'mon, we both know you had a crush me back then, why bother going through more insufferable trial and errors with other princes when you've already gotten to know and fallen for this prince right here once before," he question as he raised his hand, rubbing his thumb on your bottom lip in a kindly and romantic manner. "You know, you've grown into a beautiful woman, in many different ways if I may add."
You stared as him through your eyelashes as your boobs were threatening to spill from your corset, which was what he was referring to in his 'many different ways.' The nerve of this man.
"The past is the past," you swatted his hand away. "Screw you, you royal courtesan."
You heard him whistle as you threw the doors open and left him behind. You suddenly felt that the party was better than being stuck alone with the insufferable Castellan boy. Except he ran up to catch up to you.
"My dear princess, why can't you just forgive me," he cooed as you tried rushing off, finding great difficulty in your dress and heels.
"I will not be seen as an easy woman with no backbone, just because you may think you have a way with your words, I have no issue throwing you down those stairs," you said as you pointed toward the stairs, then you realized, you were pointing at the stairs. You were now back in front of the party, but your anger could no longer be contained, no matter how many eyes were beginning to dart your way.
"Calm down princess, you're supposed to stay contained in front of your suitors, you may scare them aware," his words were dripping with arrogance, the bastard. You couldn't help yourself, you slapped him, leaving a red hand mark on his cheek. Gasps erupted from the crowd, some small chuckles here and there, though they quickly died.
"I don't care whom I scare aware, I don't know who you think you are, but this is my Kingdom, you conceited harlot."
You then threw off your heals and picked up as much of your dress as possible and ran up the stairs, no longer caring about the party. You knew you were gonna catch hell from your father, but you didn't care if he struck you down with his lightning, you could no longer stand to stay in the room with all these thickheaded princes, especially one in specific. Thalia ran up behind you, helping drag your dress as you rushed to your room.
You slammed the door behind you as she started, "What the hell happened?"
"That stupid Hermes prince, thinking he could just waltz back into my home and act like he can "reclaim" me. After what I was put through??" You were pacing the room as you grabbed a pillow to shove your face into, and yelled.
"That little dick," Thalia shook her head. 15 minuted passed when the door slammed open, it was your father, Zeus.
"Now what made you thinking slapping prince Castellan in front of all those people was appropriate in any way, shape, or form," he bellowed, but you couldn't be bother to bring yourself in, or to speak with respect.
"I did what I felt was right, its not my problem he's an absolute bitch!"
"That language is unbecoming of a princess! And I will not stand by as you disrespect your now fiancé."
"Excuse me? What the fuck, are you talking about?"
"It was the only way we could fix your outburst," he reasoned, though he didn't sound like he cared about reasoning. You knew he wanted to marry you off, and how upset he was about the engagement first being nulled.
"Yeah, the only way without paying, you're just greedy and you use your kids to take the easy way out," you argued. Thalia just sat back, mouth agape at the scene in front of her.
"Who gave you the right to speak to me this way, I give you everything, and I can take it away at the snap of my fingers if you even dare to try and back out of this marriage. Be. Careful."
You both stared at one another in anger, you hands were balled into tight fists as you knew what your father was capable offend you knew you had to back down. You didn't want to seem like a woman with no backbone? Pathetic, if the crowd could see you now. "Fine."
You felt weak, that's how your fathers presence always made you feel. "Now," he started. "Your going to go back down and apologize."
You softly nodded, with the feeling of defeat washing over you, as you walked back toward the party. People seemed to be going back to talking, but quickly shushed as they noticed you making your way right back down the stairs. You scanned the room, and saw Luke standing by his father, Hermes, with a shit eating grin on his face.
You were tempted to not be bothered to apologize, but you had no choice. Time to go apologize to your new fiancé!!
"Hello to my new fiancé," he said in such an egotistical manner. "Anything you'd like to say to me?"
Gasps were heard among the crowd upon hear the word, 'fiancé.' "I'd like to apologize for my earlier actions, they were unbecoming for a princess, and disrespectful to do against my future husband."
You didn't meet his eyes once, keeping your eyes to the side or the floor. You knew if you looked at his face, no matter how hot, you'd try to leave behind a black eye. He then took your hand, and planted a light kiss on it, "Why thank you, princess."
You took the moment to pull him into a hug and whispered in his ear, "Disrespect me, and you'll be sorry. I'll strike you down with my lightning till there's absolutely nothing left and no one remembers you."
You separated and he looked at you with his classic, mischievous smirk. "Noted."
"Now if you all excuse me," you addressed the room. "I will now be calling it a night. Goodnight and thank you for coming."
You curtsied and walked off as you noticed Jason walking with you, with your discarded heels in his hand and he helped you back to your room. You were truly getting tired of these ungodly amount of stairs.
"Congratulations on the not-so-new engagement," Jason tried to sound upbeat, but it wasn't working. "No more boring parties I guess."
"I think I'd rather suffer through the parties at this point," you smiled as you leaned on his shoulder.
#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#percy jackson pjo#percy pjo#luke pjo#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n
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a/n- thinking about being out with the team when ur relationship w hotch is still fresh and nobody knows but you’re just too happy to see him u can’t contain it
warnings- alcohol consumption, secret office relationship, reader wears lipgloss, lowkey a little angsty? not for long tho, reader tells aaron everything they love about him,
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
it’s late, the room is spinning, lights are flashing, but aaron hotchner has a hand on the small of your back. you’ll be okay.
“aaron! i’m so happy you’re here!” you gush, throwing your arms around his neck on the crowded dance floor. “hi, beautiful,” he mumbles for only you two, “i think it’s time to head out, yeah?” he encases his arms tighter around you, his natural protective instinct peeking through in the foreign environment.
you freeze in his arms for a moment, his pointed gaze piercing into yours. the alcohol you’ve consumed allows aaron to infiltrate your senses that much quicker, as the woodsy musk of his aftershave mixed with the spice of his cologne floats through your nostrils. the smell is more intoxicating than the alcohol, and you’re certain if he wasn’t holding you, your jelly legs would not have been enough to support you. you completely forget that your intoxicated coworkers stood behind you, watching you cuddle your unit chief with no reserve.
“nooo!” you whine as he gives you a pointed look, lips jutting out in a pout. you watch as his eyes trail down to your glossy lips, sparkling and pink from a gloss that you both know tastes like strawberry.
“come on, sweetheart, you know you have an early morning tomorrow,” he gently guides you to walk in front of him, a protective hand firmly at the small of your back to steer you through the crowd.
“oh, okay!” you teasingly roll your eyes and swat at his chest behind you, “only because you called me sweetheart!”
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
aaron ignores the accusatory stares of his more sober coworkers as the two of you make your way back to the team’s table. you fumble for your purse, which aaron had placed under his jacket 10 minutes ago.
it scares the shit out of him, the way his heart picks up when you smile at him, thank him, like he’s the patron saint of your universe. whenever you look at him with your big, wild eyes, sparkling just for him, a reddish hue rises to his cheeks that hasn’t appeared in years.
“are you ready, sweetheart?” he asks against your temple, steady hand still resting behind you.
“you bet!” you chirp, and he can’t wait to tease you in the morning, “bye everybody!!!!!” you wave enthusiastically, obliviously, to the accusing eyes behind you, “see you all monday!!!!”
“for everyone’s sake, have a restful weekend,” rossi quips. aaron catches his eye for the briefest moment, and he salutes him with his drink. his cheeks flush once more.
once he’s settled you safely in the back of the cab, he allows himself to enjoy the few minutes of peace and quiet with you. your arms are wrapped around his neck as you sit practically on top of him in your seat, and he cherishes the way his temple nestles perfectly under your chin.
“really like you, aaron,” you say in a soft voice, fingers absentmindedly stroking his hair.
he lifts his head from the crook of your neck and meets your eyes, vulnerable and raw, “yeah? y’like an old geezer like me?” he jokes, desperate to slice through the achy longing that’s suffocating the car.
you roll your pretty eyes and shove his shoulder lightly, “you’re not a geezer. you’re just a gentleman. a really perfect gentleman,” it’s your turn to cuddle back into him now, hiding your face as he strokes your back.
“you’re a great leader, great father,” you murmur, lips grazing the lobe of his ear.
“now you’re really just trying to butter me up,” he teasingly deflects once more, fingertips trailing up your forearm.
“never,” he feels your head shake against him as you press a kiss behind his ear. a shiver unzips down his spine as he holds you tighter. “i see how much you care, so does the team, so does jack. you’re so good, aaron.” he shuts his eyes, holds you even tighter, if that’s possible. you keep going.
“you’re so smart, so kind, so gentle. truly an incredible man. i don’t think you’re told that enough,” you pull back, piercing him with a gaze he’ll never forget.
“i don’t think i am either,” is all he can say before he plants a sweet kiss to your awaiting, glossy lips. this moment is worth any teasing that might come from rossi and morgan on monday. he’d go through it a thousand times over if it meant he could share more moments like this.
#once again this wasn’t proofread#and also he’s my husband#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#belle’s blurbs a.h.#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron x reader#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner criminal minds#aaron hotch#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch fic#aaron hotch fluff#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner blurb
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