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adora-but-ginger · 9 days

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Aspersion

aspersion (noun): an attack on the reputation or integrity of someone or something; an accusation.

pairing: eventual spencer reid x gender neutral! reader

synopsis: in which spencer reid pushes a little too far

warnings: both spencer and the reader are assholes to each other a little, but it is justified! swearing (probs), typical cm violence and such, tension thicker than a cement wall

masterlist

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: hello and welcome to my first official criminal minds fic! all of the pieces in this anthology can most likely be read individually, but they will have connected themes throughout! please enjoy the first work in my "psych you out in the end" collection. want to be tagged? Let me know!

also casual reminder that this is glasses reid because i am gnawing at my enclosure over him

not proofread whoops

credit to gif owner!

It had been a long case. Five days in and little to no leads, yet a serial killer was still on the loose. This was your fourth case with the team now, most of which were still pretty apprehensive of your "psychological abilities." Penelope, who you've come to like the most, has been the kindest to you, even asking as far as for you to do her tarot. The rest of the team weren't as easygoing, but that wasn't the point right now.

It was of upmost importance to check out the latest crime scene, and you were paired with the hyper-suspicious Doctor Reid. He out of everyone trusted you the least, but now was the time to hopefully change that. He was a genius and you could read people, after all. You couldn't get a good read on him though, mostly because you two hadn't been around each other long enough to have more than a professional conversation. This was the first time it was the two of you, and you were going to make it count.

You could decipher anyone's aura, yet you were still a people pleaser. Ironic, almost.

"It looks like there was no forced entry, meaning that the unsub was someone they either knew or felt safe with." He darted his tongue between his lips after he spoke.

"Yeah, but aren't people in this neighborhood generally trusting? I think we should focus more on what he took." There was something itching at you about this scene, something that felt off.

You were a professional profiler, but you could just sense people's inner selves and auras--auras helped direct you into a person's mind and feelings. It varied per person and you weren't the best at explaining it, but you could tell a lot about someone if they even walked past you.

"Are you saying that the door might have been unlocked?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility."

Reid without a glance in your direction shook his head. "You know that's a very unlikely scenario, statistically women will secure their home much more than men, especially if they're living alone. Research also shows that when someone is under the impression that they can hold more than average strength either physically or mentally, they act out in irrational ways." He shrugged his eyebrows before murmuring quietly. "Like joining the FBI."

Did he just insult you? "Excuse me? Reid I'm just saying that we should shift our focus. Gideon said you had trust issues, but he didn't explain their severity." Had he really tried to undermine you in a way that he thought you wouldn't notice?

"Gideon makes decisions that could end up hurting the team more than helping them sometimes."

Okay now that was a diss. Wasn't he the one who hired Reid, too? You had dealt with people like this before, and you weren't going to let him get to you. "Let's just finish up and go meet up with everyone else."

The unsub was found and arrested two days later. Ironically, he was entering through unlocked doors, a detail that you were sure Reid was not too happy with when he found out. You were all on the jet ride home now, and would be here for the next few hours. This was the farthest case from Quantico yet, meaning the team finally had time to interrogate and learn more about you. Something that Emily and Derek were jumping at.

"Can you read my mind?"

"Can you tell what I want for dinner?"

"Can you tell when it's going to rain?"

They had both sat down across from you simultaneously, overwhelming you art first.

"Okay hold on." You threw your hands out slightly as a cue for them to stop. "Kind of, no, and yes--I check the weather station."

"Huh." Emily scrunched up her face, another question brewing. "So how does this psychic-ness work?"

You took a deep breath before starting. "I can just read you. Yes, like a profiler reads you, but also more than that. Profilers can only see the outside, but I can see the inside as well."

"Prove it." Derek crossed his arms. "Inside profile me."

Now that was a choice of words.

You held a finger up. "I will only if you promise to never say that phrase to me again."

He looked to Prentiss before a smile broke out. "Looks like they've got jokes, too."

A quiet laugh escaped you before continuing. "That I do. What do you want to know, Morgan?"

"My deepest-darkest secret." He said it in a joking manner, but you shook your head none the same.

"You don't want me to share that."

"I guess I don't. What do you really have for me, though?"

You took a second to really look at him, to see what he was hiding behind that smile--you were going to keep it light of course. You could look farther if you wanted, but the farther back you went the vaguer your readings were. "When were you going to tell everyone that you like Britney Spears?"

And just like that, you knew the two of them believed you now. Because the price on Derek Morgan's face was one that you wish you had a photo of. Emily's jaw dropped, eyes widening. "You refused to listen to her with me last week, traitor!"

Derek's mouth was also agape--he was flabbergasted. Eyebrows raised, he shook his head. "Fine, I believe you. Say no more. Please." His reaction made you chuckle, and it was all fun and games until Reid strode over, taking the seat next to you.

"You know, almost every public claiming psychic is usually a scammer or a fake. In fact--"

A groan escaped you. "Seriously? This again?"

"Yes! It was an incredibly irrational choice on Gideon to--"

The upbeat mood quickly dissipated, your temper going along with it. "Listen Reid, I don't need to explain myself to you. But, out of the kindness of my heart, I'm going to say this once." Emily and Derek''s eyes were bouncing between the two of you. "I don't announce it publicly, hence why "that is"psychic" is not my legal title. Second, I'm good at what I do, that's why I'm here. Believe me or not, but I can see right through you and your defenses."

The air took a tone that you didn't quite appreciate now, but he started this.

"You don't know a thing about me, in-in fact you don't know a thing about anyone, much less who I am." Annoyance was seeping through his words, and you were getting tired of his passive-aggressiveness. "You show up here being a so-called 'psychic'," his fingers went into air quotes at your title. "Yet you haven't done anything besides getting a confession out of one individual? Sounds like someone doesn't know how to handle being around actual profilers."

You wanted to slap the guy. But here you were again, taking the high road. "I'm too tired for this. If you want to doubt what I can do, fine. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before." You clenched your jaw and took a couple deep breaths to control your oncoming frustration. The conversation was over now, there was nothing left for him to say. How dare he insult your profiling skills too? How dare he--

"How have you been able to get this far lying?"

It was the straw on the camel's back, that line. He wouldn't drop it, and now he was going to face the consequences. You inched your head slowly to face his own, steadying your breaths even more, so you could make sure your words wouldn't get you fired this early on.

You looked into his eyes, really looking into him. The emotions he gave off, the way he held himself, his aura. If he was going to bash you for days in hopes of getting a response, he won. He was probably expecting you to give a grandiose speech on how you don't know what you're doing or how you just have really lucky guesses, but if there was one thing that you learned from people like him, it was that if they keep striking low, you strike lower.

Screw the high road, screw him undermining your talent, and screw people like him that thought they could get away with thinking their actions didn't have consequences.

You really saw him then, squinting slightly as you looked him up and down in the seat, the team around you remaining quiet as to remain listening to the rising tif. You could see right through him, see that he had some real parental issues, but had a overshadowing amount of loneliness surrounding his self, his mind, his body. It was vague, but it was there, and there is all you needed.

You leaned back as if to get comfortable, maintaining your eye contact. "When was the last time someone you cared about actually stayed in your life, Spencer?" You spoke nonchalantly, like you were discussing the weather.

You could feel the tangible tension that thrummed through the air from the two across from you at your words, and you knew you hit home. As to solidify your unanswered question, you saw a tiny twitch in his eyelid that responded more than any words could.

"Um Morgan? I think JJ called our names. We should go." Emily nudged the man and nodded to the back of the jet.

"What? No one has said anything. You're losing it, Prentiss."

"Derek, we're going." Her eyes went between you and Spencer to drive the point, and he finally picked it up after a second.

"Oh. Oh. Yeah, yeah I agree. JJ?" He called out. "We're coming!"

It was just the two of you now.

He broke eye contact with you after your words, and you moved in towards him as you lowered your voice to a whisper. "I see you for your inner workings, Reid. There's a reason I am good at what I do, and it is because I see you for how you see yourself. You do not want to make an enemy out of me."

His voice was caught in his throat for a second, mouth dropping slightly. He cleared his throat momentarily. "Are you threatening me?" Clear avoidance of your statement.

"No, Reid, I'm offering an olive branch. I suggest you take it." His silence prompted you further. "Besides your consistent digs at me, you're really good at what you do. Your brain quite literally runs a mile a minute, and my brain can see that. I am trying my best to chalk this all up to me being new, but I am really not appreciating all of this heat, it is extremely frustrating. You have your methods, I have mine. I'll give you some time to decide whether to accept this olive branch or not, but we would offer this team much more if you used those smarts of yours alongside mine, not against." Your chest was heaving slightly as the fire in your eyes blazed, but he finally got the message. "This will be the only time I'm offering this up." You turned away from him, needing a break.

You heard him shuffle and leave the seat next to you as you watched the clouds whiz by in the jet. It really sucked that he was cute too. All the adorable ones had to get you riled up, didn't they?

You felt a brief weight lift off of your shoulders as you heard Gideon speak to everyone on the plane about having the weekend off. Thank goodness.

That Monday you waltzed into the bullpen, a nice pep to your step after a break from everything. Iced drink in your hand, you set down your bag as you prepped yourself for the onslaught of paperwork awaiting you.

You had just gotten comfortable when you felt a tap on your shoulder and a familiar clear of a throat.

You swiveled in your chair, facing the tall man. "'Yes?"

"The oldest olive tree is known to be anywhere between two thousand to four thousand years old, but the specific age is currently being studied."

You took a sip of your drink as you looked up at him in confusion. "Good morning to you as well?"

He clenched his jaw quickly before continuing. "I''m saying yes. I accept the branch. It doesn't make sense to me and you infuriate me a little bit, but I want to work on it."

For the first time, but certainly not the last, you genuinely smiled at him.

And maybe he was losing all touches with reality, because he could feel his heart skip.

taglist: @alllriseabove @kitty-kei

#psych you out in the end #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #bau #criminal minds x reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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szasfuckingwife · 25 days

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DESIRE- pt 1

KING!SATORU X QUEEN READER

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, minor misogyny, dysfunctional family relationship

A/N: I am quite excited for this series, lets just see if I don’t give up on it halfway through, lol

series master list —> part two

It was far late from noon when one of your ladies ran into your room. Just when you thought your duties for the day were done, here comes another. Although it may seem easy living in your estate as princess with a thousand maids at your beck and call, you were also being groomed and moulded to be the best queen for your country.

“Your highness, your father writes to you.” She has a white letter in her hands. Knowing her, you wouldn’t be surprised if she opened the letter and read it herself.

A sigh leaves your lips as you hear it’s from your father, the king. Feigning a healthy father-daughter relationship was harder than it looks. In reality, you hadn’t seen your father regularly since he sent you to live in Seymour Manor when you were four. The only times you recall seeing him is during galas and balls where his attention is caught between the fine port being served or being involved in a dance, not you.

Your thumb grazed over the red Royal seal that your father was known for. Reluctantly, you open the letter, reading the words carefully.

To my darling daughter,

I hope the standards and degree of the manor has provided you with the upmost guidance as you reach this new age of womanhood. I wish to see you again as we approach our new season.

However, I do not write you to discuss your wellbeing, unfortunately. I wish to discuss your betrothal to Sir Satoru Gojo of the Gojo clan. His father, the head of the Gojo clan, wishes to see you and his son marry before the year ends.

I will not hasten you, daughter. But, as princess of our great kingdom, I do wish to see what you will do once you become queen. More importantly, if you will produce an heir that will continue our great monarchy. I rest assured knowing the nannies and ladies at Seymour Manor have groomed you into being the perfect wife to Satoru and the perfect queen for our nation.

May God be with you,

Your father.

This is the 5th letter he’s sent about this Satoru Gojo since some months ago. You crumble it up and throw it behind you, like you’ve done before. Who is he to rush you into marrying a man you’ve never met? You’ve hardly ‘met’ with your father.

“Augusta, remind our mailman that I will not receive any more letters from my father-” “But, your highness..” Your maid interrupts.

You look at her softly, “My father must be having you all nervous. Trust me, Augusta, that man is not to be feared. Oh, are you scared? You shouldn’t be. Tell the mailman it is the princess’ direct orders.”

“Your highness…” She sighs. “A carriage awaits you outside from the palace. Along with your bags…”

She sees your features soften as you come to the realisation. The joints in your body stiffened up as you blinked at her a couple more times, trying to spot dishonesty. But, to no avail.

You were getting sent down to the palace, whether you liked it or not.

“My lady-” “Very well.” You purse your lips as you exit the room.

The manor became smaller and smaller as you begin your journey. Memories of you playing with toys when you were a toddler and running around in the outside fields plague your mind.

It was home. No mother. No father. No worries. Just the maids and nannies raising you into the open minded woman you are. They were the mother(s) you never had. It made you fear how quickly your happiness could be snatched away.

“Excited, my lady?” Your father’s footman asked. God knows why he was selected to chaperone your travel. He saw you glare at him before returning your gaze back yo the window.

“Take this as an opportunity, your highness. Soon, you will be married and produce a surplus amount of heirs for your kingdom.” He says, a little too excitedly.

You sigh. “James?”

He sits up, “Yes, my lady?”

“Stop talking.” You sarcastically smile.

As you arrive to the palace, you see your father stand outside the front stairs of the palace. He looks mighty in his royal clothing, a proud smile adorns his face as your carriage comes to a stop, like he raised you.

It was unnerving seeing your father standing alone. It was just last winter where your mother succumb to a terrible illness and met her maker. If you weren’t in this predicament you’re in now, you’d count that as the most depressive moment in your life.

Your father’s footman offered his hand, helping you step out of the carriage. The king speed walked down the steps, grinning from ear to ear. You curtsey in front of him, almost second nature to you.

“Hello, father,” the words leave your mouth bitterly. “How are you?”

“Better now you are here, darling.” His eyes squinted as he smiled. “Please, tell me, how was your travel?”

Another fake smile plasters your face, “A little home sick. However, I was fine.”

His fave dropped, “Well, this is your home now, dear. You are at rest when you are here.”

You watch him as he takes a deep breath in, “That is good. Well, what are you all waiting for?! Accompany my daughter with her things as she settles into her new home.”

You’re left with your thoughts as you sit on your new bed. The only thing that comes to mind is how your freedom is gone and now in the hands of this Satoru Gojo.

Wonders of his appearance come flooding into your mind. What would he look like? He could be some scrawny adolescent. No, your father couldn’t give the title of ‘King’ to a child. Maybe he was an old man. As old as your father. His belly round and his hair fading.

Goosebumps plague your skin as someone suddenly walks into your room.

“My lady, the garments have arrived.” A maid walks in.

Your brow raises, “Garments? I did not send for garments.”

She smiles, “My apologies, your betrothed sent them.” Some more people walk in, holding beautiful dresses. They contrast your everyday dresses you wear back home, where the thoughts of marriage never crossed your mind and days ended when you passed out in the fields.

“My betrothed..?”

“He sent these for you to wear tonight during dinner. It’ll be you, him, his mother and father and of course, the King.” She says merrily. “He must be enamoured by your beauty.”

Your brow rises, the fabric used is clearly expensive and foreign. Silky satin and the brightest purple that has ever met the eye. It was all too grand. A huge contrast from your country-house dresses you grew to love.

But beautiful nonetheless.

Whoever this Gojo Satoru was, he was playing his cards right.

Everything tells you to run out of the palace gates as you head downstairs for dinner. If you took off your shoes, you could make it to the town hall. Or was it the boutique?

It had been so long you’ve forgotten what surrounds the palace. Soldiers would definitely catch you within seconds.

A sound of laughters interrupts your thoughts. It’s your father’s and someone else’s. Before you could even breathe into the room, you are held back as you remember you are to be announced.

“Her highness, Princess Y/N!” A butler announced.

All murmurs stop as you walk in the room. The Gojo clan stood up upon your arrival. You noticed the smiles of the mother and the father and then your eyes landed on a man no other suitor could compare to.

His hair was snow white, it reminded you of snowy days where you cosied up to the fire place. His eyes were cerulean, bright and blue. But his stare made you feel small. The way he looked at you, like he was analysing your demeanour, how you walked, how you carried yourself.

They all bowed as you took your seat. “Pleasure to meet you, your highness.” The head of the Gojo clan grinned. “Your father has spoken highly of you. He’s assured you will be the perfect fit for our son.”

So, this is the infamous Satoru Gojo. The way they spoke of him, as if he is the prize. It was hard to not be egotistical considering you were, quite frankly, the future queen.

“Yes. This is a momentous occasion. We are currently witnessing the start of the of the next generation. I’m confident that Gojo will be a great king.”

You sit there, waiting for your father to mention you and how great you will take care of your kingdom. But your wishes were never grabted, they moved onto another topic swiftly.

Throughout dinner, Satoru kept locking eyes with you. Even with the jokes and banter your father and his were throwing about, his eyes lured you back in.

“We are to discuss the date of the wedding, and then the coronation. It should be quick and around the same time, we don’t want to string this along any more than we have.” The king spoke with a certain dominance that shook the bones of everyone in the room, but you of course.

Gojo’s father nodded, “Of course, your majesty. And may I thank you again for recognising Satoru as capable of being king.”

You clearly have missed a plethora of conversations and rumours of Satoru becoming king. “Yes, I see Satoru as the son I never had. He’s most capable of carrying this kingdom to glory.”

Satoru smiles for the first time during dinner, “I’m sure I’ll do that with the help of your daughter, your majesty. Every king needs his queen.”

You want to scoff.

“Of course. And then, hopefully, we’ll see Princess Y/N withchild very soon.” His father spoke. It made you sick how they spoke about you as if you weren’t there.

Suddenly, you felt something wet on your lap. As you look down, you notice the burgundy red wine staining your blush pink gown.

Gojo’s mother gasped, “Oh no, your gown..” You wonder if she was even worried about you embarrassing yourself or rather the fact her family spent a pretty dime on was ruined by your carelessness.

You take a deep breath in, already frustrated from the lack of communication regarding your own marriage and your father’s lack of awareness. “Pardon my absence for one moment..”

The party watches as you stand up and leave abruptly. Satoru notices as your father mumbles something about you being dramatic and unladylike. “I shall go check on her.” Satoru suggests.

“Satoru, you shouldn’t-” “I’m only to check on her welfare. She seemed conflicted tonight.”

The Gojo parents turn to look at the king who is now slumped over in his seat, “Very well.”

You seek comfort under the stars on a balcony, the atmosphere downstairs was too suffocating. It seemed you were a pawn in this big crown game.

“My lady.”

You gasp as you turn around to see the very man you grew to despise in a short amount of time. “Must you cut up my peace..?”

Satoru walked towards you slowly, “It’s a shame the dress is stained…This is the one I wanted you to specifically wear.”

His attempts at flirting made you sick. “I would thank you for the dress. But seeing its already ruined, I don’t think my appreciation would go far.”

Satoru nodded, “It is alright. Did you like your dresses? Were they a good fit? If not, I can get my men to-”

You hold up a hand, “Leave the other two. They are sufficient for gardening.”

He breathed out a chuckle, “Your highness, did I do something to offend you? If so, I do apologise. My father raised me to be a gentleman.”

Nothing leaves your lips as he responds. No smart remark, No rolling of your eyes, nothing. He was nicer than he seemed during dinner. However, you didn’t know what to trust. But something inside you told you to build some sort of relationship with him, considering you two will rule a nation together.

You scoffed as you remain your gaze on the environment, “Gentlemen? You…You hardly know me, why do you wish to be wed?”

“You are really magnificent, Y/N.” He whispers. The absence of formalities and honourifics threw you off immensely. He was now very close to you. It was only now you noticed how tall he was. “If I was just a commoner, I’d still want you as my bride.”

You blink up at him, “Satoru, if I am to be your bride, you can leave the theatrics at home. I’m not a child, I will not fall for such…dishonesty!”

“Dishonesty?” He chuckles once more, stroking the side of his face with his gloved hand, “Have you been like this with other suitors or just me?”

You look away. You’ve never had other suitors. Only him.

“Pardon me, Satoru, but I must go to my chambers. The sun is resting, and I shall rest with it. You don’t want to stop the future queen from receiving her sleep.” You begin to walk away from him.

“Trust me your highness, once wed, I plan to.” He mumbled.

Satoru sees you turn around swiftly staring at him with confusion. If it weren’t for his good looks, you would’ve sent the guards to behead him as quickly as possible. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Instead, you walk away.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo saturo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #royal au

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ryry-rebel · 10 months

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Mafia Boss Sukuna

Mafia Boss Sukuna x fem reader

Warnings- Sex, Cussing, Mentions of killing

Word Count- 690

Pronouns- she/her the reader is female

Content- cussing, kissing, fluff, mentions of killing, smut, degration, pet names, penetration, slapping, aftercare, groping

My Masterlist -> Masterlist

Mafia Boss Sukuna who would murder anyone for you. He would burn the entire world down for you if it was you who asked. You say the word and whoever you want is dead. He would kill them however you wanted; your wish is his command. “I will tell my men to get rid of them tonight. You say the word and it’s done.”

Mafia Boss Sukuna who caters and gives into your every need. Nothing is too expensive for him. “Kuna look, that dress is just so beautiful.” “Put it on me.” You jumped up and down with excitement as you ran into the store to try the dress on. His generosity towards you went further than clothes. Jewelry? He’s got it covered. Are you craving a specific dish? He will order it and have it prepared for you.

Mafia Boss Sukuna who is so overprotective of you. He wants to be with you all the time, but with his job, that’s impossible. So, you are forbidden from going out without him or one of his most trusted employees with you. He wants to keep you safe from harm. “Baby, I know you want to go out, but I have enemies and I don’t want their disgusting hands all over what’s mine.”

Mafia Boss Sukuna who tortures anyone who wrongs you. “What did he say to you? I’ll have his head on a spike, and I’ll ship his body back to his family! Nobody hurts my girl.” If someone dared make you cry, other than him, they wouldn’t live to see another day. He would track them down and murder them with his own two hands. Their death would be slow and painful.

Mafia Boss Sukuna who lets you attend his meetings with him. “Master Sukuna, is this woman allowed in here?” “This woman is my lady, and you will treat her with upmost respect. She is to remain at my side.” Sukuna would sit in his big leather chair and pull you onto his lap. He will rub his fingers along your hips as he goes on with business. His hands will squeeze your plump thighs as he watches you wriggle in front of his associates. He will ask for your opinions on his business matters too. Most likely he won’t take your words into consideration, but he wants his underlings to have respect for you.

Mafia Boss Sukuna who claims you in bed. He buries his cock deep inside your cunt and thrusts his hips into yours with extreme force. “Look at you, taking my big cock like a good little slut.” “You are my little slut, aren’t you? Such a pretty little whore for this cock.” He would wipe your tears away as he continued to assault your little pussy. He would slap your ass until you were crying out his name. “That’s right baby, cum on my cock for me.”

Mafia Boss Sukuna who surprisingly gives the best aftercare. He would kiss up and down your body, making sure he tends to all the marks and bruises he left. “I didn’t hurt you too much did I sweetheart? I didn’t mean to be too rough with you.” He would run you a hot bath and use your favorite bath bombs. “I’ll wash you up baby, just relax for me, okay?” He would massage your aching muscles while he brushes your tangled hair. “You did such a good job for me.”

Mafia Boss Sukuna who has a soft spot for you and only you. Everyone knows Sukuna’s cold demeanor and vicious personality, but you get to witness his warmhearted and loving side. When he got you alone, Sukuna would shower you with praise and kisses. “You look so gorgeous today doll.” “You’re such a pretty girl, and you’re all mine.” He would wrap his arms around you tightly and pull you close as he places warm, gentle kisses to your forehead. At night he would cuddle you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you drifted off to sleep. “Sleep tight baby. I love you so much. You mean the absolute fucking world to me.”

#jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #fanfic #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna imagine #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jjk mafia au

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cyjammy · 4 months

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Vox and Valentino: A Display of Trust

VALENTINO AND VOX

Not going to lie, I was the most excited for this dynamic and it just barely beats out Vox and Alastor’s rivalry. For four years they were both the big unknowns only seen for about 30 seconds in the pilot.

There were theories about their dynamic that I hoped to god wouldn’t be true in the show.

Because they didn’t make sense, they looked friendly with each other when they hunkered down for the extermination. And there was no way one sinner (Val) could create an empire alone.

AND I’M SO HAPPY THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

Valentino being hot headed and brash was not on my 2024 bingo card, but I’m here for it.

(Yes, he’s a bad person. So is everyone else in the show. Alastor hangs out with cannibals and most likely participates. It’s a show about Hell.)

I LOVE HIM. I love everything about him down to the voice, the fluctuating emotions, the drama, the possessiveness — ALL. OF. IT.

I love me some fucking drama and I was LIVING for the back and forth between him and Vox.

Valentino is in charge because of the power he has.

He’s not a words guy, he uses action. He refuses to change his ways because that’s what got him to the top. He’s ready to hunt down Angel just for moving out.

Mind you he still goes to work and fulfills his side of the contract, Valentino just can’t handle not having control.

Micromanaging Angel’s life down to the smallest of details. Controlling who he can talk to, what he can wear.

He wants his plaything back in his sight, he doesn’t want him getting defiant. He wants his leash short so he doesn’t get any ideas.

And the way he gaslights the fuck out of Angel hit hard. Getting away from an abuser and then having the distance you finally need to heal, but being forced to be in contact with them is so restricting that it hurts.

Jesus that was fucking with me.

You don’t necessarily have to be smart to manipulate people, and Val knows that. Val plays the part of the fool so people underestimate him.

He feigns impulsiveness.

When asked for strategic advice he plays dumb.

That’s calculated, and it may just be written off as idiotic, but that’s probably what he wants.

He has to be playing dumb, there is no way he has survived this long by pure luck.

Vox makes do with him by his side because Val can gain trust and place sinners under his spell.

That makes him a valuable asset. Vox supplies the equipment and Valentino supplies the merchandise.

Because that’s all he considers those who are under his employ.

They’re things to be sold to an audience.

But Vox might not see the subtle ways Val messes with him.

Val’s a bratty, unsympathetic, monster that will do anything to get his way. With the guidance of someone with a more grounded personality removed from his issues is when he is able to see reason.

And Velvet can’t even do that, only Vox.

That shows respect and trust.

Even when Vox was spelling it out for him slowly it wasn’t a slight against him, it was a reminder and it held no malice.

If it did, Vox would have lost his temper as he did with Alastor. He kept himself measured for Val and reigned himself back in.

He may know that it won’t get him anywhere after dealing with him for so long. If Vox didn’t see Valentino as a worthwhile investment, he wouldn’t even go through the effort.

Vox knows the best way to get Valentino to listen.

Valentino is extremely self centered. Vox speaks in a way that makes Val want to care, while still making sure it benefits him as well.

“OUR brand”

“Any idea what YOU would look like chasing random whores around town”

“OUR image”

Their partnership is of the upmost importance. Vox needs to make sure the empire remains, that the Vs have their power. That they’re on top.

And that’s a goal Valentino can get behind.

Valentino backs off with disappointment, because he enjoys violence. And he wanted there to be a show.

So instead he throws out something that could really get under Vox’s skin.

Alastor.

Val could have used this information to cripple Vox, make him vulnerable during a time where he needed to stay focused.

But instead, he uses it now.

Val was bored, he knew how Vox would react, and he wanted a show.

And a show he received. Pressing all the right buttons to see his partner go mad.

I want to see more of Valentino. So far his actions could be read as surface level — dumb and erratic — or strategic.

As of now, I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing.

Anger clouds your judgement and both Vox and Val were subject to that effect within a few minutes. That doesn’t necessarily mean Val is a fool and that Vox calls ALL of the shots.

Val acts idiotic around his colleagues because he knows they won’t take advantage of him. Until I see how he is around Angel Dust outside of those voicemails or around his other employees is when that can be settled.

I’m hoping this is a strategic play, because that would be an amazing use of misdirection. All the signs are there, and it could be so.

I also love how Vox is never fearful of Val and vice versa. They both would take steps toward each other that would be misconstrued as advancing toward violence.

Neither flinch. They look a bit surprised, sure, but never scared.

The respect is there and I love the relationship Val and Vox have.

#hazbin hotel #posted before episode 4 #on my twitter #@cyjammy #vox #valentino #i love their dynamic so much #The Vs #Overlords #attention wh0r3 #manipulation #playfulness

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finisnihil · 11 days

Text

2.2 Sunday analysis spoilers ahead

I think a scene that perfectly sums up the Dreammaster and his relationship with Sunday is the one where he’s breaking the news to Sunday that Robin was shot.

Sunday has just appointed head of the Oak Family, given a position of upmost power. The Dreammaster leads in by giving Sunday Robin’s letter and then he innocently asks if she mentioned a stray bullet. A stray bullet? Why would she mention a stray bullet? Robin is safe and happy, wherever could she run into a stray bullet?

Well, a war broke out on that planet she sought it out because of it. For the sake of the Harmony and saving lives… she went to the front lines. You know, where stray bullets tend to shoot down innocent birds?

Well, holy shit, is she okay? Of course I mean it only struck her neck directly but I guess because she is doing such glorious deeds Xipe saw fit let her sing a while longer still. You should write to her- oh no, you stupid boy, only after you finish your pressing work now that you're head, hm?

Let's break down the interaction, shall we?

Firstly, this show was meant to sever Sunday's trust in Robin and isolate him. Robin is the person Sunday cares about the most, his life is but a tool to maintain her happiness and he's not quiet about the fact he'd chose Robin over the Family. When Robin didn't want to sing for Ena in the final plan, Sunday betrays the Dreammaster by taking her place as the sacrificial lamb instead. Point being, Robin is Sunday's only real support system and his only access to something that hasn't been rotted by the Family's corruption. The Dreammaster starts the conversation by highlighting how Robin withholds information from Sunday. She didn't mention getting shot, she didn't mention going to a planet because of war, she didn't mention anything. She isn't telling Sunday when she's in danger. Sunday is already terrified of the world around him, of how bleeding hearts like his sister's and his suffer for their kindness. The Dreammaster going about things this way instills a layer of distrust, Sunday can't trust Robin to be honest with him, he can't trust Robin to be safe, he can’t trust her to trust him. Thus, Robin is taken out of the equation and Sunday is alone with only the Dreammaster in his ear.

Next, we drill in a blame of the Harmony. Robin serves the Harmony like a good child of Xipe but it's precisely that which put her in harm's way. Would she have gone into that situation if not for the ideals of the Harmony? The Dreammaster twists this logic in Sunday's head, whispering it was the Harmony that got his sister shot and mockingly noting that maybe the only reason Robin wasn't dead from it was because she served Xipe so well; he implies that if she failed to meet that nonexistent standard next time, maybe Xipe will let Robin die. Sunday can't trust Xipe to protect Robin because it was Xipe's will that almost killed her. Now he's more vulnerable for the ideals of Order to sing their claws in.

Finally, Sunday's lack of control is emphasized. Sunday has just been appointed Oak Family Head but he still has no control over anything. He can't act out of line because those who supported him may stop and if he fails to uphold the pristine image of the Family there will be hell to pay. Still, I think the most sinister thing about his lack of control is seen when the Dreammaster stresses that Sunday can only write back to Robin after he has finished his "outstanding tasks". He was just coldly told the person he cares most about in the world was almost killed without her deigning to inform him, and he can't even talk about it with her and make sure she's okay until he does his paperwork. The position of Family head is nothing but a formality and it isn't enough to save Robin, it isn't enough to save anyone. Sunday has never been in control so maybe... He should create a world where he has it through Order.

In the credits we see the Dreammaster refered to as "Sunday's Servant" but it's obvious the Dreammaster was the one who manipulated and pushed Sunday to this point, intensifying his trauma and pushing Robin out so he could be the only whisper in Sunday's ear, so he could warp Sunday to be the vessel of Order he wants from him.

This entire scene would have gone so much differently if the Dreammaster actually cared about Sunday but we can tell he doesn't. From the start Sunday has been a bleeding heart that bleeds more heavily every time he tries to alleviate suffering. He's trapped in the cage of Penacony and has come to think the buildup of broken dreams and pain he's exposed to is the way of the entire universe. Robin escaped but Sunday can't.

Sunday is ultimately responsible for everything he did but you can't ignore that the path he took to get here reeks of the Dreammaster's malicious influence. Gallagher notes Sunday is just like Misha in a lot of ways and I think that's why the Dreammaster honed in on him so intensely. Sunday had the potential to ruin everything if he took the path Robin and Misha did so he had to have his wings clipped and taught to think a cage means love, that Order is the way, not Harmony.

It's genuinely such a good sequence, the tension of it all makes it work so well. The fact that Sunday is haunted by it and that the Dreammaster so successfully got into his head without him really noticing. He basically did what Aventurine bragged about doing, exploiting Robin's suffering to hit Sunday where he's soft. The Dreammaster functionally set up a bomb and coaxed Sunday into being the one to set it off.

Sunday is a wonderfully written antagonist, but the Dreammaster is a wonderfully written villain.

#honkai star rail #finis analyzes #Sunday HSR #HSR Sunday #He makes me insane #I feel like not enough people are mentioning the Dreammaster and his part in the background #Like that man gave me the ick every single time he was around Sunday and Robin #I wanted so back to chuck that Raven into a wall whenever I saw it #Which is saying something because ravens are my favorite birds #THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU SUNDAY

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lollipop-writes · 1 year

Text

Hunter x Hunter Men as Boyfriends

Characters: Chrollo, Feitan, Hisoka, Illumi, Pariston.

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no pronouns or characteristics used to describe reader. Mentions of some characters being possessive, controlling, and suggestive. Otherwise no content warnings.

Chrollo

He is a gentleman and treats you with the upmost dignity. Whatever you don't want to do, he respects and works around that, finding common activities the two of you can enjoy.

A lot of library dates, early morning coffee dates, and snuggling during rainy weather with the fireplace going. He enjoys small moments of intimacy like this.

He steals and buys for you a lot of expensive things he thinks will look nice on you. Also, he steals anything related to your hobbies.

"This reminded me of you, y/n" he sweetly smiles as he gives you his present.

Feitan

He's surprisingly a very casual dude to date. He takes you to a lot of casual and relaxing venues, unless you guys stay indoors. Theaters, watching horror movies on netflix, and eating a lot of takeout.

But he's a VERY possessive boyfriend. I wouldn't say he gets jealous easily since he trusts you. However, he still sees you as his, and doesn't like it when people encroach on what's his.

Not as considerate as Chrollo when it comes to where you want to go since he kinda just. Has you follow him around wherever he goes, even on his outings with Phinks.

Speaking of Phinks, expect to see him a lot during outings and to have him tag along on a lot of dates.

Hisoka

If you're strong, he'll want to fight you a LOT. He loves testing your limits and abilities.

Expect spicy times after fighting, training, or "playing" since that really riles him up. He figures he's already in action so may as well get some more.

He's pretty goofy and likes to make you laugh. Expect a lot of jokes and inappropriate behavior, even during spicy times.

Hisoka REALLY loves to tease you and make you blush by saying obscene and gross things. If you're not blushing, he'll try harder and up the level of obscenity to get a reaction out of you.

Illumi

Illumi has heard of dating but doesn't really know how it actually works. By this I mean he's never officially dated and doesn't have a clue where to start.

He begins courting you by like, declaring that he wants you as a spouse and just outright stating that you two are dating now.

He buys you a lot of expensive gifts, not always to your tastes since he can be somewhat oblivious in other people's wants and feelings, but it's the thought that counts.

He watches over you like a hawk, making sure nobody lays a finger on you or even looks at you a certain way.

Pariston

Ok so you know how I said in some of the other men's HCs that they will buy you nice things? Pariston does that but up to 11. He loooooves buying you really gaudy, tacky objects and clothing. Extra points if they're revealing or suggestive.

Takes you out to fancy dinners and public functions quite often, and these make up most of your dates together.

Wants you two to appear as a perfect couple, in looks and appearance, in behavior and manner, and in dynamics and relationship. He has to uphold an image so the pressure is on to be absolutely perfect.

Not really very intimate behind closed spaces, unless he's in an uncharacteristically good mood. And even then it's more as a way to taunt you and hold more control over you. He'll be more affectionate out in public for sure, though.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #feitan #feitan x y/n #feitan portor #Hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #hisoka x you #illumi zoldyck #illumi x you #pariston hill #pariston x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh headcanons #; my writing #; headcanons

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vampvvy · 5 months

Note

Could I request Blue Exorcist Rin relationship headcanons with a female half angel half human reader? Please and thank you!

Angelic. | R. Okumura.

warnings: none it’s SFW.

A/N: So polite<3 Ofc you can request so. I don’t know of the specific angelic features you wished for but i’ll imagine the reader to have long wings.

Prologue.

Rin had a hard time trusting most celestials, simply because of the horrible experiences he’s gone through with most, but with you he has become quite awestruck.

At first he would simply watch from afar, not knowing of your secret. While training alongside you in True Cross Academy he couldn’t find himself to resist you, as if you were a delicate temptation sent from his grotesque “father”.

After a while he noticed how you never took off your layers of drapes and robes, how you carried around a plain staff made of a pure metal, stronger than one would believe, and soon he vowed to find out what you were hiding.

Long pearly wings slipped out of the simple bind that wrapped around your chest and wings, pressing them together.

Stretching out and fluffing far behind you, losing some feathers behind you as you prolonged the freedom of your luscious wings. The prominent shock on his face as his pointy ears and cheeks flared up like the color of a cherry wine.

“….?…WHAT?????”

Relationship.

Rin would be extremely proud of who you are. A strong being such as you marveling in his own presence left him stunned.

Very protective. Worries about you constantly as if you weren’t stronger than him with your heavy staff and long stamina. He nearly threw Suguru in the fountain for him simply shoving you a little too hard.

Treats you with the upmost of care, always delicate with you.

Helps you pluck and fluff out your irritated or damaged feathers. Soothing your stretched wings as he massages conditioner on the sensitive follicles. (You do the same with his tail.)

Turns to putty whenever you show complete and utter affection to him. Has no problem with PDA but would rather his enemies not know of your relationship so it’s private for the moment.

Poor baby is a sensitive boy, so many things has happened to him in such a small span of time. His heart aches constantly and he confides in you with his troubles. He can’t ever bear having any arguments with you.

Extreme crybaby behind closed doors. His heart is not nearly as strong as his will, and with the constant betrayal of his friends and his own twin his strong facade always strays.

Loves cooking for you, makes bentos and breakfast for you. Always knows you’ll give him the best commentary and suggestions. Making his meals even better than before.

Argued with Yukio once because he believed that you were a bad influence on Rin, saying that you bring out a bad side in him and that he was clearly unstable with you, but in fact Rin was at his best with you. (Rin believed he was simply jealous because of you being so “amazing”.)

Shiemi constantly tries to advance on him with the help of Izumo not knowing of your relationship with him. You trusted Rin with about every ounce of your human and angelic being, but she was very persistent. Of course Rin was loyal to you, more than you could ever believe.

Rin loved kissing you, hugging you, practically merging with your being while doing so. Very inexperienced and constantly bites your lips and tongue with his fangs, might cause you to bleed slightly.. he had no control.. Oops.

Loves to fall asleep with your angelic voice speaking to him. Whenever he wakes up on your lap after falling asleep, he swears he genuinely goes to heaven. The gorgeous light illuminates the deep color of your hair and bounces off of you. He falls in love over and over with you.

©VAMPVVY 2023

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #rin okumura x reader #relationship headcanons

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quimichi · 4 months

Text

warnings: NSFW - MDI, cock sucking, slight hair pulling, head grabbing

summary: One thing you're used to do, is kissing his wounds after a fight. But that's not the only thing you'll be kissing...

characters: Childe x f!Reader

word count: 2.698

It happened again, while fighting again and just like the usual, you sit in his lap and you kissed his wounds with upmost care and love. "This one hurts too," he fake whined and puted and you gulped when he took your hand over the huge bulge of his gray trousers, dragging it along his waistband, which for a second you hesitated to pull down. But a quick look in his eyes made you forget all the worries and you pulled his waistband down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock popped upright. The sight alone has you drooling.

"Hm, no kiss? But its aching so much it hurts." He whispered under a sleazy grin. He fucking knows what he's doing, of course he is. But what did you expect, this happens every single time you decide to kiss his wounds. At some point you WANT to kiss his wounds so bad because you know what is promised to come next. You.

"Which lips do you want?" You breathed desperately out and you surely saw him get a tad bigger. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it to the side as he stares in your needy eyes. "Are those ready to take me?" He asked while he had the best sight before him, you rubbing your thighs together... "Fuck..." He hissed, seeing how quickly he made you feel aroused. "Just the sight of my cock and you're this needy already?" He couldn't contain his smirk, you could hear it too. "Please..." You begged as you rolled your hips against his thigh.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "Go on, do as you please." He leaned back in his chair and watched as you clumsily go down from his lap, just to kneel down before him. Eagerly you start to lick and suck at his cock, the taste of his all so known pre-cum hits your taste bud's. It didn't take long for Childe to grow impatient with your doings, and so he grabs the back of your head, and with a fistful of your hair, he slowly but surely pushes your head down.

you try to protest at first, eyes wide as his calloused hands grip your hair and head firmly, controlling your every move now. “my sweetest girl,” he coos, “don’t you trust me?” he brushes a stray hair out of your face with his other hand, wiping the tears streamed down furiously, your eyes squeezed shut. He laughs and lovingly rubs his thumb against your upper cheek, “You’ll be a good girl for me, right?” You find the strength to nod as good as you can with his lenght in your mouth. Your small and pathetic "mhm" send shivers down his spine, making him groan. “That’s it baby, you got this. Doin' so good, fuck-" his fat cock inches his way in and out, you feel the stretch, but you want more. You hold onto his thighs and you start to work against his hand. You wanna do this alone. He shushes you, “don't hurt yourself girly”...

A/n: I'm sorry I'm not the best at smut--so I hope this was good-

♡ TAGLIST ♡

@junejunejun

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader smut #childe x reader

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thefanficmonster · 2 months

Text

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

#sam and colby #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam golbach #nate hardy #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating #x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

aemond x reader: the reader reacting to aemond showing his sapphire eye

The subject of Aemond’s eye was ever a sore one, an Achilles heel one might say. There was nothing more unbecoming of a future king or warrior then to loose an eye to their kid nephew. Granted he was no more then a child when it happened. Yet there were certain people within the realm, who no doubt take the upmost pleasure in reminding the young prince of the day he’d rather forget. Making him feel as though he was lesser then a man, then a human being like his brother and nephews did when they heard that he had not claimed a dragon. Aemond could barely look at a pig, alive or dead, ever since without being rudely reminded that despite the amount of victories he’d later claim for his house, he’d still be viewed lesser then a man.

His torment only grew when he became old enough to wield a sword, visualising that the straw stuffed dummies in the courtyard were Lucaerys, Jacaerys and Aegon as he hacked away at them brutally; Refusing to take a break until he was satisfied with the disfigured state they were in. Yet the fire of vengeance burned ever brightly within him as it’s haunting voice called for blood. However those ill demands would have to be forcibly silenced for a time as it was Aegon’s coronation day and Alicent had made it apparent that nothing were to disrupt the usurpation of the throne. Aemond could care less for had his mother took the time to heed Aegon’s desire of not wanting to be king, they wouldn’t be running after his older brother like headless chickens.

“Aemond?” Your voice pierced through the fog that clouded his mind. Even though he claimed that everyone looked down on him for losing his eye, you however were the exception. You didn’t stop him from claiming Vhagar as you knew the importance a dragon of her stature held, you didn’t squirm away when seeing his slashed eye nor looked at him with pity. Instead you held his hand as the maesters stitched his wound close, tended to him when it would become aggravating during the healing process. Not once had you forfeited the facade Aemond believed you had put up in his presence. You didn’t see him less then a whole person but more so for bearing an injury that most would’ve cried at.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Aegon, he’s-“ “missing, I know I’m more then aware, given how his disappearance has sent everyone tits up.” Aemond said, abruptly cutting you off from finishing your sentence as he sheathed his sword. “Is that all you wished to tell me? If so then you may take your leave.” ‘He was doing it again.’ You thought to yourself, Aemond would act like an uncaring, cruel hearted bastard when old wounds were picked away at until they bled once more. Which lead to him lashing out at those he claimed to care the most for merely existing. His attitude had started to chip away at your patience with him overtime that you started to become as prone to anger as he was. “You can pack that attitude up right now Aemond Targaryen, I’ve already proven enough times to you that I am to be trusted, that you can rely on me to keep a secret. However, what I will not be as complacent of being is someone you can take unjust anger out on as you please.” You snapped, uncaring of whoever overheard as it was none of their business to eavesdrop in.

You’ve grown tired of the same old routine you and Aemond has built up until now. At first you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him but after a time it became an scapegoat for him to pass the unbridled anger he felt towards Lucaerys onto someone else. You didn’t have a backbone then but now you’ve forged one out of steel, one that didn’t break or bend as easily as the young prince wished it would. “Have care how you speak to me,” Aemond began, “for I am your prince-“ “a prince is nothing but a title that you could easily be stripped of one day Aemond!” Your cries cut him off, forcing him to be silent as you continued, “all I ask is that you treat me with the same respect that I have treated you with when no one else would but I guess that’s too much of a tall ask, even for someone like you.” You finished, not bothering to stay any longer then you would like to hear his venomous words as you departed back into the red keep. Leaving Aemond on his own in the courtyard to mull over the consequences of his actions today.

Aemond knew deep down that you were right, his actions were uncalled for and his treatment towards you was unsavoury at best, cruel and harmful at worst. Heaving a heavy sigh, he ran a hand over the side of his face that was concealed his eye behind an eyepatch before a thought darted across his head like a pesky fly. You claimed that he hold no respect or trust towards you but if the heated words you spoke were to be true, then what he was planning on doing shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you. Though that would sadly have to wait later tonight as he had the obligation to search the city for Aegon with Ser Criston Cole. Aemond could only hope that you were willing to wait that long.

The coronation was everything Alicent didn’t want to happen. Many innocent civilians died upon Rhaenys’ intrusion before she left, assumably to Dragonstone, with the warning roar of her dragon, Meleys. A declaration of war as many have chose to interpreted it, despite having the advantage of bathing the opposing family in a downpour of Dragonfire whenever she desired. In the end however she chose to spare them, whether or not that was the smartest decision was ultimately left for fate to decide. With that put aside for a later date, Aemond was already in your chambers by the time you gotten there. “What is it Aemond, haven’t finished chewing me up and spitting me back out yet?” You said, wanting nothing more then to rest your psyche for the mayhem that tomorrow would surly bring. Aemond didn’t say anything at first as he moved himself in front of you, holding your hands in his as he rubbed his thumbs back and forth gassing the skin there.

“I wish to apologise for my unsavoury treatment towards you earlier this morning,” he said, his singular eye darting across your face for any signs of repulsion but found fatigue instead, licking his lips, he continued, “I shouldn’t have dared snapped at the one person who had been nothing but of help to me when everyone showed me their backs. If I could spend the rest of my life making up for my wrongdoings, I would but I have high doubts that I’ll be living that long.” Aemond confessed as he pulled away from you, secretly smiling when you hands instinctively went to reach for him. “However in proposition, I wish to bestow upon you the biggest form of trust that I can come up with.” You were confused at first but when Aemond reached behind his head, you realised what he was going to do and without thinking your hands grasped his arms.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You asked, not wanting Aemond to put himself in an uncomfortable situation just to make amends. The prince stared at you with steadfast determination, “I wanted to do this for a long time but wasn’t certain when the best possible time to do it considering the bases of our current situation.” He replied with his hands still poised at his eyepatch. You breathed a heavy sigh before letting go of his arms, “okay, whenever your ready.” Aemond only hummed in acknowledgment as he undid his eye patch, bringing a hand to the front of it as he removed it slowly to reveal that where his eye had once been was replaced by a beautiful blue sapphire. It’s stark contrast to the rest of him was hard to ignore but there was a beauty behind it like no other.

Your brain hadn’t the time to catch up as your hand had reached up to gently run your thumb just beneath it. “It’s beautiful.” You whispered softly, finding it hard to tear your eyes away from how the flames reflected within the sapphire as though to show you Aemond’s soul. “You don’t have to lie to save my feelings y/n.” Aemond muttered, knowing how he looked but as he was about to move away and put the patch back on, you stopped him by hold his face in your hands. “I’m not lying Aemond, I truly think it looks beautiful on you.” Aemond’s gaze softened as he brought his hands to yours, leaning his forehead against yours, closing his one eye whilst the sapphire reminded glued on your face. “Doesn’t that scare you?” He asked, not wanting to ruin this perfect moment. You smiled, rubbing your nose against his, “your beauty never, ever scared me Aemond, not even one bit.”

#hotd fic #hotd x you #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader

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tenderlyrenjun · 1 year

Text

7Dream and bouts of some relationship insecurity

I don't really know how to title this, but yeah ...

includes ... making out, suggestive/implied sexual content, light swearing, references to fist fights, alcohol mentions, food mentions, jealousy/insecurity, vague choking; Juyeon cameo, hey babe ... also, I got carried away with one of these because I originally had it as part of a fic but I just deleted the fic instead so, yeah, sorry, you can ... really tell which one it is ._. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU GET BLOCKED AND REPORTED.

Mark Lee

"Hey, man, come on. That's my girl."

The single sentence took less than a minute, but the conversation ended with Mark's fist through the guy's jaw and with security escorting all five of you - you, Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, and Yeein - out the back door. Everyone else opted to head home, since the entrance fee was, like, ₩50,000 to account for weekend tax.

Mark barely managed a quick good-bye over the driver's door before you slammed your own door shut. You probably should have driven, since his knuckles continuously cracked along the steering wheel, but driving relaxes him, something he needed, especially after that incident. Some guy kept chatting you up, standing way too close, borderline touching your ass, even though you redirected away from him, several times. And Mark knows, and trusts, that you would never leave him, much less cheat on him; he has the upmost faith in you, if his constant words of affirmation are anything to believe, but that does not mean he has to trust everyone else, epsecially when alcohol comes into the mix, heightening emotions too much. And he didn't blame you - doesn't blame you. You look hot, something on which he commented ... very enthusiastically before even going to the bar, with your satin mini-dress, a small (literally) article he bought while thinking about you on a work trip.

But as he sped down to your apartment, you - his passenger princess - pointed your knees at the window, just generally looking away from him. He cramped his fingers on the steering wheel that time, flooring the gas pedal. Then, you, silently, guided him into your apartment, sitting him down in the bathroom, where you, now, wrap his knuckles.

Mark watches you take a salve, applying it via cotton swab over the dried blood, accidentally reopening the would, much to his grimace. Though, he says nothing. The frown embedded between your brows and the heavy breathing in the room prevents him from opening his mouth. So, he lets you paw at his hand, only letting out soft grunts when you overextend his thumb (it got caught on the guy's jaw after Mark went in for a third punch). Eventually, you finish with the salve, wiping away the excess with toilet paper, and you get up, walking out the small half-bathroom.

"I'm sorry," Mark calls softly. He half hopes you don't hear him, over the blaring air vent, because you still have yet to even look at him, in the eye, since you got in his shiny, red car. But, still, you return; eyes trained on the ground though, waving a beige roll of adhesive tape. And he repeats it, even gentler, saying your name this time, "Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"I said I'm sorry."

You stare at him, for awhile. He sees your eyes scan his face, probably lingering at the one or two cuts from when that guy landed a blow, and your fingers slip, accidentally fastening the bandage around his abductor muscle. And Mark resets his jaw, with his prettier hand, just thinking about the bar incident all over again. But then, your face drops, into your lap, and his face drops.

"No, yeah, I heard," you return, sighing, then unwrap his hand to fix your mistake. "I," you swallow thickly, licking your lips, refocusing on his fingers. Gingerly you turn them over in your polished hands, grazing his purpling skin comfortingly. "You don't have to be sorry," you say softly, "I just ... I didn't ..." You pause, dropping his hand back in his thigh, and kneel between his legs. "I didn't know you could be that kind of hot," you confess, smile fighting its way onto your face. You let out a breathless chuckle, cutting it short when you bite your lip. So, Mark pulls it from your teeth, palm brushing into your cheek. "You ... were really ... sexy." You run your hand up and down his inner thigh, and his knee twitches. "Normally, you, um, you use your words." You look up at him through your lases, teetering on your knees, still wearing that short, satin dress he bought, the loose neckline swaying teasingly. "And you're really good with your words."

Mark bites his lip this time, shifting his hips down the toilet seat on where he sits. "Gotta - Gotta defend my girl, yanno?"

You stand on your knees, taller, and Mark gets even closer, the two of you a magazine-width apart. His palm lowers down your cheek, down your jaw, settling above your collarbone. He presses, gently, at first, then squeezes around your neck, entire upper body shuddering. You breathe upward, on his lips, seam of your mouth breaking with each gasp, then move first, straddling his legs, drawing closer - yet so far - to his face.

"Well, you got your girl," you whisper. And his hand squeezes again, holding you at a distance to hear what you say, even though he keeps tilting his head across your pretty collar. "What are you gonna do now?"

Huang Renjun

You take off your couple bracelet, leaving it in the key dish by the door, before heading to work, and Renjun found it, an hour later, when he was running late to the office. He said nothing, that night, collapsing in bed before you even finished your evening skincare routine. Then, you changed your phone case to some new otterbox, replacing his matching universe one, as you both went out to dinner with Juyeon and Jun. Still, Renjun said nothing, holding the elevator door open for you and a few older ladies. The following weekend, he plucked up the courage, before a brunch date, to bring up another couple accessory before you could show him its absence:

"Are you going to wear your ring today?"

You pause, in front of the vanity mirror, steel makeup spatula a hair away from your cheek, and look at him through his reflection. Renjun gnaws inside his bottom lip. He stands at the foot of your shared bed, his coat strewn over the neatly pleated duvet. Oppositely - as oppositely has you have been from him this week - you sit across the room, at the small dressing table, still wearing your bathroom, hair wet in the front where you have yet to blow dry. Eventually, after an eternity, you turn to face him, placing the spatula, elevated, on the open foundation cap.

"I don't know," you confess slowly. "Should I?"

Renjun inhales sharply. "It's your choice," he emphasizes. But he shows you his silver ring on his right hand, the accessory pinched before his pinky. "I'm wearing mine."

You turn back to the mirror and finish applying the sunscreen, simply nodding at him, acknowledging his statement - neither confirming nor denying your own end. He thinks you might continue like that - passive aggressive - for the rest of the day, through the entire date even, but you surprise him, rotating again. You sigh, once, breaking the seam between your lips, then close them again, tongue cleaning your teeth, obviously. He waits another second, giving you the space to organize your thoughts. And you finally speak.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, staring at the ground. You swallow thickly, just once, then look at him, repeating, "I'm sorry, Junjun." You swallow again, blinking more rapidly, and Renjun crosses the room to hug you, your hands instantly climbing around his waist as he cradles your head against his stomach, your tears ruining his button-up shirt. "I know that I've been impossible lately," you confess, "I just ... Seeing someone else hit on you last week didn't ... It didn't feel good."

"I didn't know," Renjun admits, "that you felt that way."

"I didn't want you to know," you muffle, pawing his shirt.

"But you have to tell me," he says, "when I do something that makes you feel bad, especially if I don't catch on in the moment. I love you, only you." He kisses the top of your head. The hostess, at dinner last week, hit on him when she thought he came alone, but he was just reserving the table for you two; then, she persisted through the dinner, only stopping 30-minutes later, after you and he stayed later than her shift. But still, she left her number for him, much to both your annoyances. Though, it seems as though his annoyance wasn't evident enough. "Next time, I'll stop it sooner, I promise." He detaches your face from his shirt and cups your cheeks, thumbs brushing away loose tears. "Do you still want to go to brunch?"

You shake your head, no, and apologize, "Not really. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he whispers, pecking you quickly. "I'll order us some fried rice from the restaurant across town and make it up to you in bed."

Lee Jeno

It happened a couple days ago, last weekend, but Jeno has been ruminating - through all the car rides to work, all the mundane chores around the apartment, all the lonesome meals he has to eat while you work from your office - about that barista who asked for your number.

You didn't hand it out, obviously, only shooting a raised eyebrow until you got your card back. And Jeno ... he kinda just clung to you the rest of the date - making you sit in his lap, head on your shoulder, arms tight around your waist, which had you asking to use the bathroom. He knows that his behavior persisted home, over, essentially, the week, creating this ... this distance between the two of you - during drama marathons when you would otherwise cuddle; during dinners alone together in your apartment, during sex, but he can't help it: he got in his own head about it. Not even rebuilding his LEGO bonsai tree could mediate his thoughts.

And he tried.

Jeno ended up going through the motions, blindly attaching turntables to tyres, while he stared more at the coffee table than pieces. Then, you came home, as he finished assembling the cherry blossom stems (he did the green foliage, too, not yet having a preference for either), and sat on the floor with him, leaning your cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling into his hoodie.

"I missed you."

Jeno shrugs, not enough to shove you off though because your cheek rolls a little further on his chest, immobilizing his left arm. "You saw me this morning."

"Yeah, but -" You slide into his lap, resting your head over his thighs. He lifts his elbows a little higher, as you squirm around, nudging your face toward the ceiling, though you stare at him, only him. It gives him some comfort, and his hand moves automatically, coming down to caress your face. "- I don't know," you confess, "I guess I just felt a little ..." You scrunch your nose, and he rubs away the lines in your cheeks, making you grab his wrist, dragging him onto your stomach, twiddling with his long, nimble fingers. "... insecure? Lonely? Maybe?"

"Is that a question?"

"No," you shake your head. You turn on your side, burying your face in his abdomen. Jeno drops the remaining LEGO pieces and threads his free hand in your hair, matting it backwards. You sigh, deeply, "I guess I might just need some extra support, or something, right now. I love you, you know."

"Mmhmm," he nods, because he does know, that you love him. "I love you, too." It's just that Jeno doesn't like the idea of someone occupying your time the way he should. So, he lays down on the ground, too, scooting back a bit until you're face-to-face, albeit upside down, like a Spider-Man kiss. And he blinks up from your lips to eyes, seeing you watch him. "I'm sorry," he apologizes first.

You offer him a small smile. "You don't have to be sorry. It's not your fault." Tentatively, you stutter a hand toward his hair, only digging your fingers in his scalp after he nods an okay, though he also confirms that he thinks it's his fault, from how much he has been pulling away this week. "I just need some extra support, if you're able."

"And if I'm not?"

You tilt your head to the side, and Jeno frowns.

"If I'm not enough?" he clarifies.

"Then," you kiss him quickly before he can respond, elongating it for another moment, "we can support each other." You hold his chin still, staring him in the eyes. "But you are," you enunciate, "enough, more than enough."

Lee Haechan

You should have stayed home.

Really.

Haechan didn't even want to go out, didn't even want to come to the restaurant. He was content staying at home, drinking wine from tumblers rather than these elongated goblets; he already bought you flowers. You don't need to hold a glass stem and drink wine over an unreasonably exorbitant dinner. He has the same wine at home(!), the exact same Boudreaux you ordered, and he can make a steak just as well.

Okay, maybe not, but he can have Jaemin make a steak for you just as well as the chef at this restaurant, or he could order it to home. Or you could eat the really good lobster that his mom made him take yesterday. And you could pop open the rosé, over rose-scented candles, instead of the cheap taper candle - a single one - decorating your current tablecloth. There are people, too, sitting so much closer than he would like, preventing him from having an actual conversation with you.

Oh, and it got worse when the waiter started flirting with you.

At first, neither of you noticed, focused more on the menu, debating between steak or mushroom bruschetta to pair with the Boudreaux you love. Then, you laughed at some stupid joke, politely, probably, if Haechan were more level-headed, less peeved, and the waiter started flirting more enthusiastically.

"Babe?"

"Hmm?" You tilt your chin at him, still swirling your wine, reading off the drinks list.

"Baby," he tries again, whining the last syllable further. And you toss him a short glance, smile extending longer than your gaze. "Baby," he sighs, "can't you pay attention to me?"

"I am," you answer, and finally put down the small menu, but you stay there, far away from him. So, Haechan stands up, halfway, pulling your chair next to his until he sits down with his arm behind your shoulders. Haechan touches his forehead on yours, making you maintain eye contact, noses brushing together. "What's wrong, my love?" you ask him, rubbing his free arm.

In lieu of an answer, he drops his hand down your knee, curling under your skirt.

"My love?" you try again.

And he stops moving his hand up your dress, stopping as far as your thighs separate, fingers itching toward your underwear. He exhales once, twice, breath shaking, then looks at you through his glasses. "I like it when you call me that."

"What? My love?"

Haechan nods. "Makes me feel like I'm yours," he mumbles.

You giggle at him, patting his arm. "Because you are, dummy." You peck his lips, falling back into your chair before he has the chance to deepen the kiss. He feels like he lost you again tonight, or like he has the potential to lose you, so he tenses his fingers between your thigh, opposite hand incidently rocking your chair up so high that you slide into his lap. "My love," your breath hitches again.

And Haechan nods, kissing your neck a little longer, tongue tracing his name in your skin.

"Yours." ♡

Na Jaemin

Honestly, he shouldn't be staring. But Jaemin could burn a hole in your head, or obliterate that guy you're with - Juyeon, or Juhyon, or something.

It was a coincidence that Jaemin even sees you here, at this nightclub, with an absurd ₩70,000 entrance fee. Mark only convinced him to go after promising to do his scut for the weekend.

That, and Jaemin may or may not have been stalking your Instagram; especially after you removed him from your close friends story - he knows, because Renjun is still on your list. You pushed him onto some other list with more people he couldn't see, not that he knew anyone on your following; you're not even really friends, just met through Renjun at some hookup party. And you do hookup with him, whenever he calls, which isn't as often as he thought, evidently, he considers now, since he apparently doesn't know what you do the other days of the week.

Like wear that black mini-dress while dancing on Juyeon, of all people.

Jaemin rolls his eyes and sips his beer, wincing in the same second when it touches his lips (Haechan is a liar, and he is not taking beer recommendations ever again). He has been waiting for about 15 or 20 minutes, for you to notice him, just acknowledge that he is here, in the same space as you, but you remain oblivious, sliding your arms in the air, shimming in front of Juyeon, who keeps trying to bring your waist close. It takes another ten minutes before he slams his empty glass on the bar, spinning around to trudge the dance floor.

Except, as he spins around, narrowly missing a line of Kamikaze shots placed a little too close to the edge, he bumps into you, literally. His arm swerves over your head, and he takes a step back to avoid making the both of you fall down. And you catch his waist, with both hands, a short leg stepping between his, for balance, his spinning head tells him.

"Jaemin?" you call, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear. Instinctively, he steadies your waist, toppling your heels down to the ground, leaning his ear to your lips. "Did you hear me?"

The Jaemin in question pulls back, slightly, his nose grazing yours. He flickers his eyes up and finds you staring at him, granted less intense than he had been, breath hitched at the back of your mouth, slowly scanning his entire face. Jaemin brushes your hair behind your ear, needlessly, most of it tied up. The glitter stickers highlight the actual makeup high on your cheekbones, under the blue false lashes mixed in with brown ones. His hand lingers over your face, wrist tilting head back, chin up, long fingers making you stand still, gaze dipping back and forth between your lips and eyes. And fortunately, all the other couples - whether they came together or hooked up - blend you two with the rest of the crowd, little bubbles of intimacy keeping everyone separated. You all ignore each other, per atmosphere, so Jaemin takes the opportunity to kiss you.

"No," he confesses, pecking you quickly, once, twice, three times, dragging your neck along with every move he does to deepen it. "I wasn't listening." Jaemin breaks first, squeezing your waist tighter, because you might have to get back to Juyeon on the dance floor. And he closes his eyes, leaning in again, lips ghosting a breath over yours. "Come home with me," he asks, and he squeezes again. "Just ... come home with me."

"Jaemin ..." you start, but he kisses his name off your lips, even quicker, replacing it with a soft moan. He bumps you against the bar, his knuckles taking most of the blunt force, against the wood, holding you steady as he waddles impossibly close. You seem to respond, fingers dipping into his bicep, puckering back. Then, you shake your head, knocking him away. "Jaemin, I'm here with someone else."

"Don't be. Come home with me." Jaemin's voice cracks, "Please? Just be with me, not him." He squeezes you again, stuttering down your lips, slotting his leg between your knees. Jaemin peeks both his eyes open, just a crack, and finds you nodding at him.

"Okay, let's go."

Zhong Chenle

"Your shirt looks so nice," the girl at his left compliments, fawning over the empty seat, even though she probably can't see the full Go, Go, Power-Rangers logo under both his bomber jacket and the dim club lights. The sole light source comes from the shelves behind the bar on which Chenle leans, only his brown hair shining obviously as he nods, slowly, eyes trained on the path to the bathroom. "I'd love to see it more," she tries, leaning even closer, almost touching his arm.

Then, he raises his hand, sliding further down the bar.

And you walk toward him, waving, "Hey," all the way until you take the stool he saved for you on his right. You also grab the glass of wine he kept not-so-subtly hidden behind his elbow and eye the meniscus without looking at him. "Have you been drinking my wine?"

Chenle just smiles at you. His arm snakes under your arms, high on your torso, as he nuzzles into your neck, chest prepped to laugh, but you smack him.

"You can order your own!"

He kisses your jugular, just once, briefly, giggling more animatedly than he had been talking to the girl, who is still there (!) by the way.

"I did," Chenle answers, "but I think the bartender likes you more. He didn't pay any attention to me while you were gone those whole ten minutes," he pouts.

"Umm," the girl interrupts, "Excuse me?"

"Mmm," you swallow the remaining ounce of wine and put it back behind Chenle on the table, tapping the rim twice at one of the bartenders for a refill. You extend your arm for a handshake, across your boyfriend's chest, but she just stares at it, at your fingers, at the matching, dainty watch adorning your wrist, until you retract, both hands now resting on Chenle's shoulder. "Did you want to drink with us? We're just waiting for our table." You lean in closer, like giving away a secret, and Chenle laughs into the air, catching your waist before you fall off the stool. "We got here early for the cucumber martinis because they stop serving them at 7, and this one -" You point at Chenle. "- can't mix a drink for shit."

"Hey!" He pulls you upright, standing full in front of you, back toward the girl as he fixes the straps of your dress. "I spike your lemonades just fine." The bartender, who ignored him earlier, gives him a suspicious look, to which Chenle tries to wave off, showing that you are his girlfriend who frequents his home and has sex with him willingly. And he brings you down the stool, under his wing, incidentally flashing his inappropriate-for-a-Michelin-restaurant Power Rangers t-shirt. "Plus, I don't have to mix the Sauvignon Blanc when I cook you dinner."

"No," you crinkle your nose, pushing his face away, laughing at his pout. "You just make me wash the dishes." In the minute beat, you look back, over his shoulder, and see the girl finally gone, then you settle back onto the stool, pulling Chenle, by his open jacket, between your legs. "Oh, no," you feign, pouting and running your hands down his sides, "Your new friend left. Do you think it was my fault?"

Chenle kisses the top of your head, giggling into your hair. "Were you jealous?" he teases. You don't answer; you just bite your lip and trap him tighter, heels almost making him plié before you, fists wrinkling his shirt. "You don't have anything to worry about, princess," he whispers and pecks you quickly. "You're my one and only. I wouldn't do anything to create a misunderstanding like that." He kisses you deeper, attaching his hands down your waist, rubbing circles with his thumbs, as you wrap your arms around his neck, half standing off the chair to kiss him better, the sweet red wine taste staining your tongue. "With anyone," he clarifies, palm caressing your cheek, to stop you from jumping his bones in this very public bar-restaurant. "You know you're my girl."

He kisses you again, pressing your back into the bar, folding your neck 90-degrees against your spine. Your chin rolls around, letting out a silent open-mouthed moan, and Chenle slips his tongue down your throat, dissipating that sweet, dry flavor off your lips, gently breathing life back into your mouth. He rubs the hair in front of your ear, thumb growing outward to draw his three-letter initials on your cheeks. You kick your leg up, inner thigh resting on his outer one. He feels your dress slip up, shorter, over his pants, and whimpers a small praise about your soft lips.

Then, the bartender who shows you a little too much favoritism comes back, tapping your cup on the counter, and Chenle, panting, shields you away from the new glass of wine, frowning at all five ounces.

"On second thought, maybe we should just go home."

Park Jisung

Jisung pulls you into his chest, around your shoulders, spinning you until your back faces that bartender, the one at whom he glares.

"How's your drink, baby?" he asks through shaky breath, teeth gritted. Jisung puffs out his chest too, while you finish another sip, nearly moaning, and pushes his thumb into his pocket, readjusting the front of his leather pants that you hide.

"Mmm, fresh,." you answer, obliviously, wiping the corner of your mouth with your index finger, platinum couple ring shining a few digits down under the colorful changing lights. You smack your painted pink lips together, loud enough for him to hear above the club music. "Can't even taste the vodka, really, and -" You raise the small glass to his lips, prompting him to sample your free drink, too, which he does, tongue pushing back on the rip before you spill all over his white shirt. "- the cucumbers are still crisp."

Jisung nods, a slice hitting his top lip. He has to hold your wrist still when you start trembling, splashing a drop of alcohol on his chest. You do nothing about it, simply curling into his torso, an arm belting behind his waist, feet waddling around his, resting your cheek between his open jacket zippers.

"Better be," he mumbles, chest vibrating.

"What was that?" you ask, almost innocently, staring at him through your eyelashes, cucumber martini glass finding your hand behind his back. And he wonders whether you looked at that guy - the bartender - like this, wide-eyed and pouting, tongue poking through the seam of your lips, when you got this free drink, never mind tonight's sample offer over the experimental martini. "Ji...sung," you hiccup between his name, placing a hand over his chest, his heart.

But he frowns, even deeper, and takes down your hand. A little too forcefully, given the way you step back, on your own, wobbling backwards over your heels. You tilt your head to the side, not-so-subtly checking him out, and raise an eyebrow. Jisung doesn't bother to look at you, simply inhaling, raising his broad shoulders taller. He rolls his eyes to the right, incidentally at the bar, with the bartender. And he glares again.

Jisung tightens his arm around your waist. And he knows - he knows how this looks: possessive, possibly overbearing, protective, which is what he half-wants. He also knows that he indirectly tells you not to touch, despite holding you closer, his fingers clenching into a fist that pushes you deeper into his wide chest. You hand balances over his pec to keep you both balanced upright without anything behind him to catch either of you from falling.

But he mumbles, "Don't touch," teeth nearly scraping each other, individually, and, again, he takes your hand down, making you frown as equally deep, though your brows furrow as high as your gaze. You wrap all your fingers around your cup, and he curls his hands into your dress, digging toward the hem, incidentally pulling the material up, just below your underwear. "I don't like you flirting with other guys," he confesses, eyes fluttering shut.

Jisung's hands grab you simultaneously, in the same way, one at your waist and the other at your neck; your own hands bracing your cup against his chest. He sighs, dropping his chin down your cheek, pressing a kiss behind your ear. Your drink is still an inconvenience. So, Jisung takes it, placing it on a random table, then drags you into a private room and jostles you against the door, accidentally increasing the distance. He just moved too fast, and you still comply, not touching him. In the wait, you lick your lips, chest heaving high. And he pushes you backwards again, slower this time, by your hips, guiding you onto a firm surface as he descends. He stops halfway, drawing back a millimeter on his next breath, flickering his eyes at yours. They're already closed. So, he leans in.

"You should only be flirting with me."

And he almost closes his eyes, too, pausing halfway again to watch you anticipate his kiss, teetering on your toes, fingers twitching toward him. The urge to blink forces him to look away before he sees you pout, equally. But he feels it.

Jisung feels the way you roll around your head as he opens his mouth wide, searching for the best angle to kiss you. He puckers his lips sideways, simply pressing on your mouth, almost cutting off your response (if you were going to say anything). And when you gasp, silently, letting him sneak his bottom lip between your teeth, he cracks open his eyes, only slightly, enough to make sure that you're enjoying this, enjoying him, only him. You bite him on a close, barely using your teeth to keep him from leaving again, and he runs his thumb along the side of your face, outside your ear, long fingers supporting your head when you falter.

But you don't pull away.

Instead, you fist his shirt, incidentally pulling it from his pants. And he drives you into the wall, changing the slope of his nose, reflecting it over yours on the other side, brows falling further. Jisung catches you right as you lick your lips and sucks your tongue in his mouth. You mewl, breathless, something audible - although incoherent - finally escaping. And he returns it, moaning an mmmh. His hand at your waist, hits the wall, bracing himself from going too far, moving too fast. You drag him closer, one thigh between your legs, fingers touching his Adonis belt.

And he has to pull away first.

"I don't like you flirting with other guys," he repeats, more winded this time.

"You're the only guy I want to flirt with, Jisung."

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct suggestive #nct fanfic #renjun x reader #mark lee x reader #park jisung x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream reactions #nct reactions #nct dream drabbles #nct drabbles #mia.txt

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twitteringthings · 2 months

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Fresh Thoughts Chapter 57

After reading spoilers on twitter (no spoilers here though^^)

The way Yoneda uses bl stereotypes as a tool while also rejecting some aspects of the genre is so interesting to read. In most bl I've read, sex is seen as the epitome of love - the culmination of two characters' pining and is seen as the end goal that suddenly fixes everything. The dick and brain are one and suddenly everything magically makes sense. But in Saezuru, Yoneda uses sex to unravel the characters while twisting them up even more-so. I believe that sex has never been and will never be the answer for Doumeki or Yashiro, and I think that is what she’s getting at. That is the point of all these sexual encounters that yield no real progress. You need more than three words and some head, ding dongs!

Doumeki thinks that all he has to do is give Yashiro passionate and gentle sex to make him realize that he loves him and imo he has it all wrong. It’s almost like Doumeki doesn’t truly hear Yashiro when he speaks. There's a pause and then a kiss or a continuing of sex as we've seen. I really wish he would’ve probed even further with the questioning instead of giving into desire and kissing Y. To me, it looked like Y was ready to talk more or hear what Doumeki had to say in response to his ‘confession.’

I don’t think D realizes that this is about Y and his view of himself. It doesn’t matter if Doumeki treats him kindly and calls him beautiful. Every person in Yashiro’s life has had an agenda against him or a plan to use him for something (nana excluded). There are always, always strings attached and his heart cannot accept anyone having no intention at all, except to love him purely. I do think D is on the right track though, making Yashiro chase him in a way. Not giving anything away as to make Y either trust his intentions or distrust him, Y needs to choose for himself.

It’s so interesting how the relationship between the two of them is outwardly focused on the physical aspect (which is definitely important), but the story is about the hearts of men. Twisted and broken men. Men with baggage and secrets and deep wounds. Men who seem to be the upmost composed but in reality, the soft touch of a feather can send their entire fortress crashing down. That's what we have here.

Yashiro’s coping mechanism protects him but is also the cause of his continuous pain. Saezuru is about choosing the right pain, the pain that will numb you and have you walk through life as a ghost, or the excruciating discomfort in accepting a foreign act of kindness that you know will save you. And for Yashiro, being saved means there was something wrong done to him in the first place - which I don't think he completely realizes yet. This would mean everything he ever told himself was a lie, and that he deserved none of the cruelty. The truth that would destroy him the most if he truly chose and accepted kindness, is that he is a good person and that he deserves to love himself and to be loved. With Doumeki, this has always been Yashiro’s battle.

Vile actions accompanied by cursed words are what has held Y back all his life from the moment he was raped by his stepfather and throughout the continued abuse, even up to the most recent events post-timeskip. And I think the exact opposite is needed from both sides to finally free both of them from their mental prisons. They just need to hold out and to talk to each other for more than five minutes. I hope they'll get there soon.

Lastly, I'm sure it wasn't her intention to make such an impactful story that subverts a genre and goes against the grain - in a wonderful way. I saw something another person posted that said this story and these characters are just a result of good storytelling and great care and I could not agree more.

I haven't posted anything of actual substance in a while (stupid work is stopping me from my true passion - alas!). These are some messy thoughts; I can't wait to read the actual chapter for true understanding! I need to analyze every pen stroke, blush, and body placement. I just had to get this out of my head, now back to my essay that's due at 11:59 *sobs*

Edit 1:55 am: Still have not started essay

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #doumeki x yashiro #yoneda kou #saezuru spoilers #saezuru fandom #messy thoughts #twitteringthings rambles

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inkegg · 3 months

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Emperor x Tavflayer post game headcanons

Some Canon-divergent headcanons ahead just bc the epilogue didn't make sense in some regards!

Turning into a mindflayer grants Tav some clarity into how the Emperor had truly felt about them before ceremorphosis. Everything around them feels much smaller, and the affection Tav feels for their companions is closer to the feeling one would get for a wounded animal. Pity mixed with love. However the connection with the Emperor is now deepened into a higher understanding.

The Emperor wanted Tav to transform because he desperately wanted to share their connection on this higher level. He wanted them to be true equals and to not settle for an animalistic need for companionship.

The new dynamic between them will have growing pains. Though they are closer to being on equal footing, the Emperor will still have much to assist Tav with as they get used to being an illithid.

Illithid Tav will have the unique experience of developing outside of a colony. This will allow them to experience a larger range of emotions compared to most illithids. They will be able to relate easier to non illithids and express themselves differently than most. It is endearing but will cause friction at times with the Emperor as they were brought up differently.

The Emperor will treat Tavs ceremorphosis with upmost care. He finds himself responsible for Tav and wishes to make their transition more comfortable as he was not allowed the same. He wants things to be different for Tav because for him he was changed against his will and was partially brought up in the cold emotionally stunted illithid society. He then had to fend for himself and teach himself how to build connections. He has the opportunity now to make things better for Tav and make an example of what can be done for illithids outside of a restrictive colony.

The Emperor and Tav would not spend time apart for at least a year after ceremorphosis. The whole process would make Tav reliant on him. The Emperor, knowing how jarring everything is, wouldn't trust Tav to be alone.

The Emperor would've went with Tav to the epilogue party as they had just barely spent time in their new form. He would need to be there to support them to prevent Tav from accidentally eating anyone.......

Their relationship can only vaguely be understood by those around them. A lot of their affection towards eachother goes unspoken. Each of them act like a beacon that's constantly sending waves of adoration. Nothing needs to be said when you're always feeling loved.

When things are good, they're great, but when disagreements arise, illithid tendencies for control and personal fulfillment get in the way of normal conflict resolution. Arguments can easily become the problem of all of Baldurs Gate if the two of them dig their heels in. And as Tav gets more skilled and matures with their illithid powers, more arguments will occur, until the Emperor can make peace with the fact that they've grown out of the need for a mentor and have become a TRUE partner.

#bg3 #bg3 the emperor #the emperor #bg3 tav #dungeons and dragons #dnd #illithid #mindflayer #anyway heres headcanons for tavflayer!!! :>

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 7 months

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Take My Hand

Summary: After the proposal in Jeff for Dinner, it's finally time for the wedding, where Jeff will play a role of upmost importance.

Word Count: 4560 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: alcohol intake, quite heavy on the romance (it's a wedding), but mostly just a whole lot of fluff! A/N: hello! this was originally supposed to be a celebration of two years since I posted my first fic here (23rd October 2021) but uhhh, I missed that date, so here's a slightly belated story :) Hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs greatly appreciated!

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe (don't need to read the others to understand, but Jeff for Dinner might give some useful backstory)

You hurried through the house with increasing urgency; Clint would be picking you up any minute now and you still needed to get Jeff ready – if only you could find him first. You caught sight of red hair strewn over the sofa and hoped it would be your salvation.

“Love?” you asked. Natasha hummed from her spot, tilting her head back to see you. You smiled. “Have you seen Jeff? We need to be off to whatever worrying thing Clint has planned but I haven’t gotten him ready yet.”

“Yeah he’s in- wait, what do you mean by ‘we’? I thought I was taking Jeff.” Natasha had turned fully now, your soon-to-be-wife giving you her full attention and locking you in her gaze like a deer in headlights.

“I- well- if he hadn’t turned down being Best Man then he would have helped organise this, so I thought it made more sense that he comes with me.”

“But you know how much he loves Yelena. And Wanda.”

“He loves Clint too!... or maybe 'likes' is more appropriate," you corrected based on Natasha's grimace,"but I can still speak with him, so I think he’d have a better time with me.”

“You go get ready,” Natasha instructed, “I’ll find Jeff and we can finish this later on.” She said it so firmly, so definitely, that you nodded and went along with it, forgetting you were already ready until you were back in your bedroom, and by then it was too late.

Natasha’s promise wasn’t a lie as such, but she called Jeff back into the room the moment you went out of earshot, opened her backpack for him to climb in, then hurried outside to where Yelena sat waiting for her in the car. She would discuss it with you later, as promised, but only after Jeff attended her bachelorette party.

“You got Jeff!” greeted the Widows as they entered, an already tipsy Maria yelling it as soon as she saw the landshark enter.

Yelena hadn’t taken them far, only to an apartment she owned in the city, but it was clear the night of drinking and dancing had already begun. Jeff purred cautiously and butted the side of his head against Natasha’s leg; the contents of the party were kept secret from her, which meant neither she nor Jeff knew what to expect as they entered.

It turned out to be a fairly quiet affair, with only a handful of women whom Natasha trusted closely, but it looked set to be an entertaining night: karaoke, copious volumes of alcohol readily available (more entertaining for Yelena and Natasha, as the other women didn’t have the high tolerance that the Widows had trained themselves for) and… a pole… installed right in the middle of Yelena’s living room.

“Is there a reason for that?” Natasha asked.

Yelena smirked, turning away from her sister and heading straight for the bar, “you’ll have to wait and see!”

Jeff purred again, causing Natasha to look down at him: he had placed two hands on the pole and looked up to Natasha for instructions on what to do next. She shook her head. “I’d avoid that, Jeff, you don’t want to know what it’s used for. Maybe in another life, if we had one of our own, I’d teach you… but not here.”

Jeff sighed, but he trusted Natasha’s words and backed away from the pole. The drinking was of no interest to him, even if Yelena had made him a number of landshark-friendly, alcohol-free cocktails. Instead, he headed straight for the machine in the corner; Wanda needed a karaoke partner.

The night took its toll on all of you, so even though you only made it through the front door at 4pm the next day, your mind still wasn't working at its best. Jeff 'mrrrr'd a greeting as he strolled right past you and your head followed the path of the landshark, gears turning in your brain thinking of what you wanted to tell him.

"Were you here all night?" you eventually said.

"Mrrr." He replied: 'No.'

"Then where…" you trailed off, both because Jeff has continued on and because you once again caught sight of red hair peeking out from the edge of the sofa; the pieces finally clicked together.

"You took Jeff then." You went to stand beside the woman before you spoke, knowing her night would have been as rough as yours; you wanted to be careful not to startle her.

She smiled when she saw you were home, then nodded weakly. "Sorry I snuck him out."

"It was for the best." You shook your head slowly as memories of the night before came back in flashes. Natasha lifts her legs up so that you can take a seat, before gently setting them back down, this time over your lap; she ignores your raised eyebrow and shuffles back to her lounging position. Her focus stayed on your face as you continued: "Clint got a little passive aggressive after a few drinks, over the fact that I asked Jeff to be Best Man before him – having Jeff in attendance would have definitely made things worse." You sigh. "Did he have a good time?"

"I'm pretty sure he duetted 'My Heart Will Go On' with Wanda," Natasha said. She pulled herself up, choosing to rest her head on your shoulder rather than the arm rest; you pulled her closer. "...it was an odd night."

"For both of us," you agreed, "but we made it through. The next party we have will be after we're married. And it'll be a night to remember."

The following week passed with surprising speed; Fury kept Natasha off of missions (lest she be injured or even missing on her wedding day) which allowed you both the free time to prepare the finishing touches and simply spend some time being together.

You hadn't fought during that week, nor grown tired of each other, which left you pretty confident that marrying Natasha would be one of the best decisions of your life – second only to rescuing Jeff, in your opinion.

By the time you bid goodbye to Natasha – letting her friends, family, and teammates take care of her for the night before the wedding – you felt your mind buzzing with excitement, and your eyes drifting to the clock in the hopes that hours would pass within the seconds you took your eyes away from the timekeeping instrument.

"You can't be apart from her for 5 minutes?" a voice said from behind you. You spun quickly, startled by the break in your focus, only to see Steve standing there, his hands in his pockets, with a slight smirk on his face.

At the familiar face, you allowed yourself to relax slightly, shoulders slumping forward and a sharp exhale escaping you. He was still waiting for your answer, so you shook your head and mirrored his 'hands in pocket' stance.

"It's been a long time coming," you attempted to explain, "this last night is just…I'm getting impatient."

Much to your relief, he nodded in understanding and stepped forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. "Our lives are fairly unpredictable; we never know what the next day brings so it can be hard waiting for something when anything can happen in between." Now it was your turn to nod, his words matched your own thoughts well. "Enjoy tonight," he suggested, "Enjoy the peace of having 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' making sure nothing goes wrong. And after tomorrow you'll have many more great nights with Natasha officially by your side."

"Thank you, Steve"

"Anytime, Y/N/N. I also came to say that you have a visitor from Natasha's side."

You shot your head back up to look at him then, mind taking you through all the possibilities of who it could, until Steve turned to the door and beckoned towards the – previously unnoticed – small, grey nose peeking out.

"Jeff!" you cheered, and he switched from a trot to a full run into your arms. His tail wagged ferociously as he rubbed his nose against your whole body, purring contentedly. You shot Steve a smile and a silent thanks when you caught him leaving the room, then it was just you and Jeff.

"How have you been, Jeff? What have you been up to? Are you feeling ready?"

"Mrrrrr!" he squealed, holding two hands in front of him in a clear sign for you to slow down.

"Okay, sorry, one at a time. How are things going over there?"

"Mrrrr. Mrrrrr, mrrrrr."

"Oh…right."

Crisp air greeted you from the second you stepped outside, only growing colder and gustier as you left the shelter of the building and headed silently towards the body of water – and the figure standing beside it.

"You know, I'm not supposed to see my bride before the wedding."

"That's an archaic rule."

"I thought you wanted a traditional wedding; that comes with traditions."

"A traditional wedding wouldn't have a landshark as a ring bearer."

You looked down at Jeff.

"Mrrrr."

"You're very wanted here, Jeff."

"Mrr."

You turned back to face the pond, your eyes tracing the edges of its still reflection. "Jeff would be very busy if all weddings required a landshark."

Natasha hummed her agreement, before finally turning to you, rather than the glistening water. "You can look, you know, if you're comfortable. You won't even catch my eye in the reflection."

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to look, or…"

When her hand found yours, you did finally look. You took in her appearance through the distorted ripples of water before shifting to see her original beauty. She smiled, and her hand squeezed yours in encouragement.

"I'm glad you got the message; I wasn't sure if Jeff understood it enough to pass the message on."

"He paraphrased," you said with a shrug, "but I'm getting the hang of deciphering what you actually said out of what he says."

Natasha laughed at that, causing the smile on your own face to grow wider. Until you remembered your concerns from the message. "This… it's not cold feet, is it?"

Her eyes widened and she jumped immediately into reassurances that it was not. "It's more like the opposite. Time seems to be dragging on and I just wanted to see you and make it pass faster, like it always does when I'm with you."

You kissed her then; the sudden motion surprised her initially, but she held you close and smiled sweetly against your lips as soon as it ended. "Steve just convinced me out of doing the exact same thing."

"Guess we're made for each other then."

"I guess we are."

Your fiancée edged forward again, looking to resume the kiss, before a loud mrrr cut her off and had you both pulling back.

"Dude?!"

Natasha rolled her eyes – despite the hint of a smile – and took a gentler approach to the landshark's interruption. "What is it Jeff?"

"Mrrrr."

"He wants to go to bed," you translated, "really, Jeff?"

After a quick scratch of his fin, Natasha stood up and you frowned, knowing what she was going to say. "You should probably take him back."

You inhaled sharply, nodded slowly, and traced your thumb over the ring on her left hand. "I should. And I will, but before that…"

Natasha leant in and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, grinning as she pulled away. "Go on and take Jeff back then."

"I'll see you tomorrow, my love."

"And for every day after that. No backing out after tomorrow."

"That thought would never even cross my mind"

"Mrrrr!" Jeff interrupted again, this time with his hands wrapped around your ankle to pull you away.

"Yeah okay, okay," you conceded, beginning the short walk to your accommodation for the night, with Jeff by your side. You looked back at Natasha when you were halfway there, only to see that she was still watching the two of you.

She waved you off, mouthing 'go', and you did as you were told.

You couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.

For all your excitement about the day, the nerves were something you felt woefully unprepared for; it was comparable to the feeling of your first mission, only 100 times worse. This wasn't life or death, nor a high-stakes 'anything could go wrong' scenario, yet in a secluded room adjacent to the chapel, with your teammates and your landshark by your side, the energy in your body was indelible.

You channelled it into action, readjusting Jeff's suit lapels for the sixth time since you'd arrived at the venue, then testing him to ensure he knew his role.

He must have breathed a sigh of relief when Clint put his hand on your shoulder, telling you that it was time to go in. Melina smiled – a silent reassurance of your place in their family, even before marriage – then she stepped through the large, oak double doors and led your procession down the aisle. You followed to take your place at the altar, with Clint arriving at your side soon after. The bridesmaids and groomsmen took their seats and, after Yelena had settled, it was Jeff's time to shine.

A chorus of 'awww's resounded as Jeff appeared in the doorway, the giant archway serving well to emphasise his small, lovable stature. He strode proudly down the aisle, letting the basket swing from his mouth with every step and forging a trail of flowers in his path.

Despite his confidence, you saw how his eyes lit up to recognise certain guests in the crowd; you didn't mind how he veered off course to greet them – how could you? The image of him plucking a flower from his basket and passing it directly to Kate would forever bless your mind.

Besides, he made it down the aisle eventually and that is all you'd asked him for. He presented the basket to Clint and let the archer pocket the two ring boxes buried at the base, before Jeff set the basket to the side and took his seat by your feet.

You smiled down at him and gave a subtle thumbs up – he was still beaming at the praise when the organ music began.

This was not the first time you'd seen Natasha in a wedding dress – a prior mission had required her and Steve to pose as a wedding couple in order to fit in – but this was the first time you'd seen her in her wedding dress; one that she'd picked for herself and worn to marry you.

She was beautiful.

You made no moves to hide your reaction, as the wedding photos would later confirm, your gaze stayed fixed on Natasha during the long walk down the aisle, radiating adoration with a wide smile and watery eyes. She thanked Alexei for walking her in, then took her place before you at the altar.

Her eyes were crinkled, and seemingly holding back tears of her own; the expression reminiscent of the one she had the night before, only this time you both had to stand tall and spaced apart, instead of leaning it to do your natural greeting to each other.

The officiant talked through the process and the legalities, but you hardly listened. You knew your lines and you knew where they came, so nothing else mattered to you besides the woman standing opposite you.

"Do you, Y/N, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?" The speech couldn't pass fast enough.

"I do."

The officiant repeated the same for Natasha, who watched you with a twinkle in her eyes before reciting her line: "I do."

"You may now kiss the bride." You kept the kiss short – the whole team was watching after all, and you were far too excited to talk with her and sign the marriage certificates to be engaging in a more intimate display of PDA.

"I guess we ought to join our own party," Natasha said once all the documents were completed. You nodded, took her hand in yours and led her out of the church into a shower of tossed flower petals. Thanking all the guests you caught the eye of, you and Natasha forged onwards until you were finally on your own.

Alone in a small room on the venue's site, finally away from the watchful eyes of your guests, you grinned towards your wife.

"We're married," Natasha whispered lowly, a smile spreading as she wrapped her arms around your waist; you pulled her closer with arms looped around her neck, giving her easy access to rest her head on your shoulder.

"We sure are, my wife."

"Are you tired?"

"Desperately."

She hummed, "me too."

"We just need to make it through the dinner, we'll get you changed into something easier to move in, have a couple dances, then I'm sure Tony will take over as life of the party."

The two of you stayed there for another 10 minutes, both to allow the guests to find their seats and to give yourselves time away from the bustle of it all.

Eventually, you sighed, stood, and held a bent arm out for Natasha to hold. "May I guide you to your seat, my wife?"

"Absolutely, my spouse." You felt the warmth spread to your chest when she laughed; the fact that you could pull such a reaction from Natasha Romanoff was an honour you would never take for granted. Nor would you ever get used to the way she wrapped herself around your outstretched arm, looked up at you, and told you to lead the way.

Cheers greeted the two of you when you made your entrance and took your seats at the mismatched head table: Natasha had her parents on her side, but in the absence of your own, you'd assigned Jeff and Steve to sit on your side. Jeff for being the closest family you had, and Steve just for being old enough to equate to two parents.

Soon, the applause transformed into the chatter of conversations throughout the hall, until a repetitive 'ding' of cutlery against a glass encouraged everyone back to silence. Except Natasha, who groaned when she saw who had rung the glass.

"Greetings everybody! For those who don't know me, I am Alexei Shostakov, the Red Guardian, Russia's-" He stopped suddenly to look down towards Melina, who subtly shook her head. "-But not today," he corrected, "today I am Natasha's father, the father of the bride, and a very proud man. Even if my relation to Natasha was only five years as part of an elaborate Soviet plan to infiltrate an American facility… it was a real family to me, and during our time together in Ohio I taught Natasha everything she knows about successful relationships-"

"Will someone stop him?"

"-so I know this marriage is going to be good, and last a long time like mine and Melina's has-"

"They're not even properly married-"

"To Natasha and Y/N!" Alexei finished with a cheer, much to Natasha's relief; she had sunk deep into her chair while her face lit up red. You squeezed her hand under the table to get her to look at you, then smiled, relaxing her back into the moment and away from her father's horrific speech.

A glass clinked again, but this time towards your side of the table. When you look, you see Jeff standing fully on the table, slapping a wine glass with a spoon balanced between his teeth. You wondered if he knew what he was doing, or if he was just copying Alexei, but that question is answered before you can even ask.

"Mrrrr," Jeff began, shifting his back legs to sit like a dog on the table. "Mrrrrr, mrrrrr, mrrrr!" You laughed, and scattered members of the audience followed your lead. It was enough to encourage Jeff to keep weaving jokes into his speech. "Mrrrrrrr." Jeff pointed at you; you pointed back at him, the knowing grin of an inside joke displayed on your expression.

"Mrrrr, mrrr. Mrrrr." Jeff finished. The speech was one of the longest you had ever seen Jeff give (aside from the nature documentaries he had narrated, but they were pre recorded and stitched together in editing). This was real, raw, live, and unscripted; it moved you to tears.

It was only after seeing Natasha's perplexed look that you remembered nobody else understood Jeff. You rose from your seat and cheered, encouraging everybody else to join in and stoke Jeff's ego. "That was beautiful, Jeff, I couldn't imagine a better speech for my wedding day. Thank you."

"Mrrrr," he acknowledged.

You still stood at the front of the room, with everybody's eyes on you, and you took the chance to make a speech of your own. Meeting Natasha's eyes silently told her your intentions, so she rose to stand by your side.

"Some really, um, great speeches tonight." Alexei smugly nodded his acceptance of your perceived praise, so you briefly flit your gaze to Jeff instead. "I'm sure you're all hungry, but Natasha and I wanted to make one more speech before dinner is served."

The landshark growled beside you, and you quickly pet his head to calm him before continuing with the speech. "We wanted to thank you all for coming, for all the well wishes…"

"-and thank you to the world for not blowing up while the whole team is absent!" Natasha interrupted – having noticed your struggle to find things to say – and received a burst of laughs and cheers.

"The night is still young, the formal bit is all done, so we hope you enjoy the rest of the party!"

Jeff calmed considerably when the pair of you sat back down, especially as plates of food soon followed to be set in front of him. He looked up at you with eyes pleading, and you nodded. "Knock yourself out, Jeff"; a phrase you soon regretted when it looked like he was willing to try it. His head slammed into the plate, forgoing the manners of cutlery, small bites, or even wrapping a napkin around his neck to protect his suit. You did the latter for him, though you feared the damage had already been done.

Jeff's plate was clean within seconds, leading him to look between you and Steve, eyes large and watery to obtain sympathy. "This is my food, Jeff, you're not getting any," you said. Steve hummed his agreement, causing Jeff to huff and climb down from his seat. You didn't pay it much mind until the surprised gasps started – at that, your head jolted up and you saw Jeff circling the tables like…well, like a shark would its meal.

The gasps came from guests startled by the appearance of the land shark under their table, occasionally pawing at their legs in a bid for scraps or leftovers or, most likely – because you knew Jeff – their whole meal. You whistled, attempting to call him back, but he stuck his nose up and continued on his meandering path, surviving off the few scraps he'd scrounged from your guests. He didn't return to your side until the main course was served, at which point he scarfed it down and did it all over again.

It was a relief – for you at least; a disappointment for Jeff – when the tables were finally cleared. You grabbed Jeff to stop him following the plates into the kitchen, then held him in your arms to watch as the band started up and the dance floor formed. You stayed like that for a bit, occasionally posing for pictures with Jeff in your arms and Natasha by your side, until the two of you were called forwards for your first dance.

Even as you moved away, Jeff’s head rotated with eyes locked onto the as-yet-uncut wedding cake. While you would usually leave him free to wander, his focus filled you with a deep distrust, forcing you to call Yelena over to keep an eye on him. She thankfully agreed, encouraging you to just enjoy the dance. You joined Natasha in the centre of the room, the dance floor empty save for the two of you, with crowds gathered around the edges to watch the event.

A tremble arose in your fingers as nerves started to kick in, but then Natasha took your hands in hers, pulling them closer to herself. "Eyes on me, agent."

"Yes, ma'am"

"You ready?"

"Mhm."

"Pretend it's just us; we can stop if you need."

You swallowed, then nodded again. Natasha gave a nod to the band and the opening notes of 'Can't Help Falling In Love' began to play. As the music picked up, you focused only on that and the woman leading you, following her footsteps better with every second of the dance that passed. Only when the music faded and the applause started did you remember the nerves you had initially felt; for that moment it had seemed like just you and Natasha dancing alone in your bedroom without a single worry.

"Well done, my love," Natasha praised when she noticed you regaining awareness of the surroundings, "that's our job done."

"That wasn't too bad." You grinned. She smiled at your enthusiasm.

"Then we still have a whole night of dancing to come. Just not alone." As if on cue, the singer called the other guests to the dance floor and you were soon surrounded by teammates and family, all joining in on the festivities by dancing the night away.

By the time you and Natasha fell into bed that night, you were exhausted, the events of the day belatedly taking their toll both mentally and physically. You could tell Natasha was much the same as you helped her out of her dress and threw a pair of pyjamas at her.

"I'd say that went pretty well," you said.

Her silhouette turned to you in the darkness, the glimmer of moonlight that had made it into the room reflected in her eye. She smiled and nodded her head against the pillow. "I could sleep for days though."

"Missions don't even tire you out this much," you chuckled.

"Missions don't require months of planning and prep."

"...I'm pretty sure they do. What missions are you running?"

"Ones where I get to designate the prep work to lower agents. You'll get there one day, love."

"I should be annoyed but I'm too tired."

"Mmm good, you shouldn't be annoyed at your newlywed wife anyway."

You shuffled, turning your back to her just to feign annoyance, but within seconds you had rotated back to face her. Seeing her eyes struggling to stay open, you bid her goodnight, ending the best day of your life so far.

"Mrrrr!" cried Jeff from his corner bed, startling you both back to full consciousness. You exchanged a look with Natasha, then flopped back onto the pillow with a sigh.

"Goodnight, Jeff" you and your wife replied in sync. The land shark huffed, content that he hadn't been forgotten, and soon drifted off to sleep.

It couldn't be the best day without Jeff.

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character @wolferine

#jeff the land shark #jeff the landshark #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #the JFU #ikan writes #marvel #black widow x y/n #black widow x reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you

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