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osaemu · 5 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

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reiderwriter · 8 months

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Elevator Pitch

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 2k!!

Warnings: Smut, fingering, semi-public sex/ foreplay, praise kink-ish, some pet names completely ignored Spencer's germophobia to make this work 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: Getting trapped in an elevator is never fun, but at least the attractive you're sharing the metal box of death with has an interesting idea about how you can pass the time.

A/N: This is just a really quick drabble for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute challenge for this month!! I have an idea for another one that I'll post closer to Halloween too, so look forward to that alongside all the kinktober fics 👀

Check out my masterlist here!

You weren't planning on running late on your very first day on your new team, but here you were. You were scheduled to meet Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner in his office at 9 a.m. sharp, and here you were at 8:57, trapped inside an elevator. At least you weren't alone, but alone with a stranger, and one who seemed to be talkative in the worst way wasn't exactly ideal either.

"Hey, don't panic. There are about 6 elevator-related deaths per year and about 100,000 injuries. I'm pretty confident about those statistics." He said, taking a sip of his coffee as he stood calmly by the door, pressing buttons and waiting for something to happen.

"Oh god, I'm gonna die in here." You whimpered a little bit, falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut.

"No, I said we're not gonna die. Or its at least very unlikely."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Yes, I'm very good with numbers. Elevator accidents account for 0.00024% of all elevators in service in the US. There you don't have to panic anymore." Almost punctuating his words, the elevator gave a low groan and fell an inch lower, pushing him off balance and toppling to the floor right next to you.

"That was just unfortunate timing." He said, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes opened again finally, and you noticed that due to his topple, he was way closer than before, face merely inches from your own. Whoever this overconfident stranger was, he was attractive. Distractingly so, as you didn't respond to his sentence the entire time he was there in front of you, words suddenly escaping you as you stared into his dark, wide eyes.

"Mechanical issues are the cause of about 15.3% of elevator incidents. Since we're in Quantico, we can probably rule out foul play, which means that they'll probably have us back up and running in around 27 minutes." Opening his mouth ruined the fantasy for a minute, waking you up to the reality of your situation.

"Did you work an elevator case or something, why do you know so much about this?" You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, as he launched into another speech.

"I read the statistical reports published by the CPSC and the OSHA. It’s really interesting stuff actually, there are-”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but I need you to shut up. I don’t think I can take any more statistics about my inevitable death by elevator. Can we do something else instead?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Can you… Can you hold my hand?” You felt yourself flush red the second the words left your mouth, and suddenly it was your turn to talk too much. “My mom used to do it when I was scared as a kid, and obviously you’re not my mom, and you don’t even know me, but I thought it could help comfort both of us. Human contact and touch is supposedly comforting in times of distress so I just thought…” He cut you off by silently grabbing your hand and settling into a seated position beside you and you sent a little prayer up to god to spare both your soul and your heart.

Because Jesus Christ it was beating hard now.

“Oxytocin,” he said and you looked up at him with a questioning look. “Oxytocin is released when you come into contact with other people, it’s the reason newborn babies benefit from skin-to-skin contact and why humans enjoy petting domestic animals so much. And the whole sex to destress thing.” He nodded and looked away, but you could have sworn the oxygen was completely sucked out of the room when he mentioned sex.

“Sex?” He turned to you as you said the word, as if processing the conversation you were in the middle of it.

“Yeah, never heard of it?” You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hand in your own for a second, but his body was leaning closer into yours now, his entire attention on you, as if he expected you to answer the question.

“Of course I have.”

“And what do you think? Can it help you de-stress?”

Your mouth moves before you can stop it. “Can we stop talking about this please, I’m already scared, I don’t need to be scared and horny.” You close your eyes and groan as his widen again, and suddenly you’re praying again, but this time you wouldn’t really mind if you became one of those six elevator malfunction deaths.

“I don’t know, maybe it would help you. There are some studies that show that stress can have aphrodisiacal impacts in women, you know?” His voice was light, but your entire body stiffened as you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge what this stranger was offering.

“So what, you’re suggesting I just get more and more turned on until I’m not worried about death?”

“No, I’m suggesting I close the gap between us and distract you for a while.” You spared a glance down to his lips then, his tongue darting out to lick them and pulling you in closer. You nodded quickly, a small movement and he pushed his lips down into yours.

He was soft at first, and you almost felt like pulling away and scalding yourself for engaging in risky behavior during a near-death experience. But just as you moved to pull away, his hand came up to your hair and you melted right back into him, the kiss deepening as you slanted your neck up to give up more of yourself to him.

You barely feel his hands pulling you into his lap, but you’re suddenly there and so happy you are. Your free hand wanders up to his chest as he squeezes your connected digits again, sending your heart into a fit of palpitations. In a panic you pull away, groaning a little as you can feel his not stiff member poking between your legs.

“Sorry, I don’t think we exchanged names. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N..”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His lips fall down to your neck as he whispers the words into your skin, and you let your head fall back as his hands untangle from you and fall to your hips, encouraging your movements as you begin grinding over him.

“And you said we had twenty-seven minutes before we’re free, right?”

“Whose the one talking too much now?” He bit into your neck sharply then, and you moaned out, battling the urge to let him take you there on the elevator floor. From it’s perch on your hip, his hand slips down and pops the button in your pants, pushing inside and finally touching you through your panties.

“That’s it, good girl, just keep grinding down on me.” Unconsciously, you press your hips into his hands, the pressure leaving you letting out a whistful sigh of relief.

“God,… Should we be doing this here?” Your words were unsure, but your movements weren’t as you pushed yourself into him again and again, desperate to feel more of him as he rubbed circles into your clit, driving you closer and closer to your peak.

“Let’s assume for now that the elevator malfunction has wiped out the CCTV,” he says, lips pressing against your skin as you lose yourself in his touch again. “We absolutely should be doing this.”

His words fell straight to your core, and you felt yourself grow more aroused as you pondered being caught in such an intimate position with a stranger.

“You think you can cum right here, baby? Think you can give me one soon?” His words almost sent you over the edge, his smile widening as your hips twitched over his.

“Fuck, yes, yes, please, don’t stop.”

“Not so scared about this elevator anymore are you? Or did you want to spend your last moments coming undone in my hands?” With his words, you lost the ability to speak, simply moaning out your agreement to his every word.

“I think I can hear someone talking through the walls, baby, you’re going to have to cum now for me, can you do that?” You nodded to him as he increased his pace on your words, and within seconds, you were letting it all out, head falling against his shoulder as you twitched through your orgasm. He pulled his hands out of your pants quickly and pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling you up to a standing position and making you look presentable as the doors to the elevator were finally pried open from the other side.

“Hey, how are you guys holding up in there?” The call came from the maintenance staff, and you were sudden;y thankful that he’d finished you off when he did because as horny as you’d been, actually getting caught like that was something entirely different than the fantasy of it.

You’re almost sorry that you have to leave when you do, suddenly absolutely involved in helping him “destress” the same way he’d helped you out. But he removes his hands from you and strikes up a conversation with the maintenance staff working to get your elevator level with the floor doors. You gravitate to the back of the stall, gripping the railing while your brain catches up to the circumstances.

In no time, the elevator is back in working order, and you and your stranger are stepping foot on steady ground again, and saying your goodbyes.

“Aaron Hotchner’s office is through those doors. Up the stairs to the left.” He smiles and nods at you before turning down the corridor and leaving you there by yourself. A glance at your clock tells you you’re too late to question his words, and how he even knew where you were going. You take off down the hall, ready to profusely apologize to your new boss and pledge to take the stairs for the rest of your days.

When Hotch finally greets you, he has already heard about the elevator malfunction, and all is thankfully forgiven. You have to bite your tongue before asking if everyone on this floor is psychic. But you’re still late, and you have a case, so your introductions have to take place in the briefing room and you half-run, half-walk behind the older man as he makes his way down the hall.

“Everyone we have a new team member today, please help her out for this first one and show her the ropes.” He introduces you by name, and you’re suddenly doing your best to memorize the names of a Prentiss, a Rossi, a Morgan, a JJ, and one Penelope Garcia. They seem to be waiting for someone else, but with the clock ticking, Penelope begins debriefing you on the next case.

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice calls from the door, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand up in shock as everyone slowly turns to greet the newcomer.

“What time do you call this?” Morgan laughs as the familiar man approaches, and a quick glance around tells you that the only seat left at the table, which had been so obviously reserved by the pile of paper files in contrast to everyone else's digital alternatives, was right next to you.

“Spencer, we have a new team member, this is Y/N. She’ll be joining us on cases from today onwards.” Hotch quickly says, and you lock eyes with the man just as he falls into his seat.

“I think we’re acquainted. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer Reid.” The room falls silent as he holds out his hand for you to shake, and you do your best to not show your shock and embarrassment on your face. You let your hand fall into his, the same one that you’d held earlier, the same one that had worked you up to the edge and then helped you pour over it, the same one that had pulled you together afterward. You said nothing after you’d finally pulled apart, waiting for him to make the next move once again.

“I look forward to working with you.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #meet cute #mentioningmargins

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lotusbxtch · 2 months

Text

The Best Ride in the Galaxy (one-shot)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for Poe's flight suit. He decides to be a cocky asshole about it. Sexy shenanigans ensue. Word count: 2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+, MDNI! Mostly porn with a little plot // Established relationship, thigh riding/dry humping, vaginal fingering, swearing, name calling, use of pet names (English and Spanish), dom!Poe, brief light violence (slap to the face), Poe uses a Spanish pet name (bebita) which is probably not canon but idc it's hot, no physical description of reader besides being AFAB and being taller standing than a sitting Poe, Poe makes a corny joke, Poe being a cocky smug asshole comes with its own warning, no use of y/n

a/n: This picture of Oscar & his thick-ass thighs, and @for-a-longlongtime mentioning how Poe-coded it was, inspired this fic in its entirety. A little over 24 hours later and here it is! This is my very first posted fic, so please show it some love, send it to someone who might enjoy it, and feel free to give (constructive) feedback if you wish! If I missed any warning tags, please let me know and I'll add them in. Big big thanks to @for-a-longlongtime for beta-reading and cheering me on, it means the world to me.

You run outside as soon as you hear the X-wings land, your heart in your throat.

It’s been 7 days, but when he left, Poe promised you it wouldn’t take more than 4 for his small band of rebel fighters to complete the covert mission. Of course he insisted on going with them; he’d been stir-crazy as of late, the endless strategy meetings and arguments amongst leadership boring him to tears. He jumped at the chance to get back into the pilot’s seat. You paced restlessly those last 3 days, imagining the absolute worst had happened to him, with no way of knowing if he was even alive.

So when you rushed out to the tarmac and spotted him climbing out of his X-wing, immense relief flooded your body, followed quickly by a potent swirl of both anger and anxiety. He spotted you, his eyes lighting up, jogging towards you with that brilliant smile.

“Hey good-lookin’,” he crooned as he approached, “didn’t miss me too much, did you?”

What he didn’t expect was for you to slap him straight across his face.

You surprised the both of you - Poe was staring back at you, open-mouthed and silent, a rare occurrence; you were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes, your palm stinging slightly from the impact.

“Baby, I know you weren’t keen on me leaving,” Poe stammered, “but this seems a tad bit–”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD, YOU ASSHOLE!” you snapped at him, loudly enough for the people around you to look around for the source of the outburst. “You told me four days, Poe, and it’s now DAY FUCKING SEVEN.” You turned and started storming back to your pod, Poe on your heels.

“Bebita, I told you it was a small team,” Poe tried to explain while keeping up with you. “We hit some hiccups in the plan and had to hide out a bit longer than we thought. If I’d tried to contact you, it would have given away our position. You know how these missions go.”

You angrily punched in the access code to the door of your pod. “Yes, I know, which is exactly why as co-general you’re not supposed to be out in the field putting yourself in harm’s way.” The metal door slid open, and you walked forward, not even looking back at him. “I don’t care if you got bored playing politics, that doesn’t mean you get to go rogue and get back in the cockpit.” Slamming your hand on the button to slide the pod door closed, you finally turned to face Poe since slapping him. You let out a shaky breath as your rage subsided. Your stomach was morphing into a simmering pool of nerves and regret.

“Look,” Poe said, “I just… getting cooped up on base listening to those talking heads was making me crazy. I miss flying and I saw the opportunity and took it.” You knew what he said was true, but it didn’t make it any easier on you. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you scanned his body for signs of injury, until you realized… he was wearing his flight suit.

Fuck. That damn flight suit always did things to you. Obviously he had to wear it for functionality’s sake, but god, it was almost like he was made to look good in them. His shoulders looked so strong and broad, and the unisex, utilitarian cut of the orange suit somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his ample, round ass, one of your favorite features of his. You felt your mouth water as you drank the sight of him in, arousal slowly kindling in your belly.

That suit was your weakness, and the cocky smile slowly dawning on his face let you know he knew, too.

“I mean,” Poe smirked, “at least you get to see me in your favorite outfit of mine.” Walking slowly away from you to give you a clear view of his rear, he turned and sunk into the chair in your room. You followed, magnetically drawn to him while simultaneously being flustered that he caught onto your ogling. You crossed your arms and put on your best annoyed face.

“I’m sorry for slapping you, but I’m not sorry for being mad,” you said, pursing your lips and looking away. “And trying to seduce me with your stupid uniform isn’t working.”

It was, in fact, working too well. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to ignore the gentle heat filling your body from your center outwards. Poe’s smirk deepened.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a covert operative because you are the worst at lying,” he said, grabbing your thighs and coaxing you closer to him. You acquiesced, trying and failing to look irritated, the desire plain as day on your face. Poe ran his hands slowly up and down your legs from your hips to your calves. Sliding his palms back and around your ass, he squeezed and your breath hitched. You looked down and those liquid brown eyes were staring up at you, twinkling with mischief. “I know you better than that, sweet thing,” Poe teased. “You absolutely cannot pretend that me wearing this suit doesn’t make you cream your panties.”

You fought to control your traitorous body, breathing slowly through your nose as Poe lifted the hem of your shirt and planted soft kisses on your belly, right above your pants. “Fuck you, you cocky asshole,” you tried to spit viciously, but it came out sounding slightly strangled instead. This Maker-forsaken stupid man and his stupid bubble butt and this stupid suit, you thought, your fingers weaving into the curls on his head.

Poe’s smile only turned even more predatory, like a cat playing with a mouse. “Oh, I would, baby” he whispered, nipping your torso lightly, “but I haven’t showered in days. How about this instead…”

Suddenly Poe grabbed your hips, pulling you down into his lap and forcing your knees to buckle, your legs on either side of his thick thigh. His right arm wound around your lower back, holding you in place while his left hand snaked up your neck and into your hair. He pulled you in for a slow, soft kiss, which snapped the final tether preventing you from melting for him like he knew you wanted to. You surged forward, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth and tasting the minty aftertaste of the gum he always chews while piloting. He groans, biting your lower lip, then sliding his tongue along yours. This draws your first moans out from somewhere deep in your chest, and his eyes quickly darken when you begin grinding on his thigh.

“Oh, you like that,” Poe crooned, lips turning up into a smirk. “So fucking eager for me. So desperate to cum.”

“Fuck you, Maker-damn it,” you pant, burying your face into his neck, the smell of sweat, jet fuel, and him invading your senses. “This stupid suit is going to be the death of me.”

Poe smiles wickedly. “Why don’t you take a ride on the best pilot in the galaxy before you die, then, honey?” he purrs into your ear. You roll your eyes at his cheesy line until you feel him flex the thigh you’re straddling, creating the most delicious friction against your clothed core. You let out a breathy moan and clench your own thighs around his, starting to rock your clit against his ridge of muscle through your clothes. Slick starts dripping out of you with each roll of your hips against him. Poe moves your arms to brace on his shoulders, then slides both of his hands onto your hips to help you ride him.

The pleasure in your core starts to ratchet up, and you grind yourself harder into Poe’s thigh, throwing your head back with a moan. Poe leans to your ear, kissing and lightly licking just behind and below your earlobe, that spot he knows drives you wild. “That’s it, baby, ride it out,” he whispers into your ear. “Use all that frustration to make yourself cum on my leg.” You mewl, circling your hips and chasing your high. Your pussy contracts around nothing, and suddenly all you can think about is how much better it would feel if Poe was inside of you.

“Poe,” you whine, “I need more.” Your slick is soaking through your underwear, the smell of your arousal filling Poe’s senses. He groans, his cock painfully hard in his flight suit.

“What do you need, bebita?” he says, kissing your forehead sweetly while gripping your hips like a vice, a contrast that has you moaning wordlessly. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you,” you beg, “I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me, please.” You can feel your clit throbbing, almost painfully. Poe moans into your neck. “Baby, I told you, you do not want me to unzip this suit,” he chuckles. “But I think I can still help. Lean back a little.” You comply, and watch with glazed eyes as Poe stares right back at you, slipping his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to get them wet. A shudder rips through your body when he slips both digits past the waistband of your pants and into your underwear. He groans loudly when he feels your slick folds.

“Fuuuuck me, baby, you’re absolutely drenched,” he breaths out. “Is this all for this dumb orange jumpsuit I’m wearing?” That cocky smirk reappears as he laughs at his own joke.

Letting out an annoyed breath, you huff, “it’s for you, idiot. You fucking drive me crazy. You’re the only one that’s ever gotten me this wet. Now fill me up before I lose my ever-loving mind.”

Poe lets out another chuckle. “Yes, ma’am,” he quips, and then quickly slides the length of his fingers into your cunt, forcing a moan from your lungs involuntarily. He rocks you forward again so that you’re sitting directly on his fingers, with his palm cradling your pussy. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he commands. “Take what you need from me.”

You do exactly that, rising and falling on his thigh, swirling your hips over his soaked digits, your clit rubbing against the meat of his palm deliciously. He adds another finger, stretching you out and making you want to scream. Your hips speed up as you desperately chase your high. The wet squelching and slapping sounds of your pussy on Poe’s hand echo in the room. Poe’s panting fills your ears and your wanton moans fill his. You invade his senses in every way possible, and he can feel his dick pulse with every thrust of your hips against his thigh.

Suddenly, you start feeling the knot in your core tighten as you rocket ever-closer to your orgasm. Poe moans as he feels you clench. “Fuck, that’s it, honey, I can feel you getting close,” he whispers. “Give it to me.” His hips start lifting up, grinding, pressing his length into you as much as he can.

“Oh Maker, Poe, oh fuck,” you cry as your walls tighten. “You want me to fucking cum for you?”

“Fuuuuuuck yes baby, that’s all I want,” Poe pants. “Fucking cum all over my fingers, soak my hand, honey.”

The filth pouring out of his mouth finally snaps the knot in your stomach, and you nearly scream in ecstasy as your release shatters and blooms through your body. Poe moans your name as a rush of your slick coats his hand, and you feel him bite your shoulder as his body tenses. Sated, you slump against him, his hand still pinned under your body, both of you sticky with sweat and panting for breath. Poe uses his free hand to softly cup the side of your face, pressing kisses slowly and gently across your cheeks and nose.

You sigh as he carefully extracts his hand. Just as you peer down at him, he closes his eyes and slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking every bit of your essence off. You shudder in pleasure as you watch him. He locks eyes with you, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Feeling better?” Poe asks, the warm molten brown of his eyes having returned. You sigh and giggle a little. “Yes, thank you,” you murmur quietly, “but I wish I could have made you cum too.”

Suddenly Poe looks sheepish, something that’s a rare expression for him.

“Well, uh…” he starts, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and averting his eyes. You pause, perplexed. He glances back at you, then down at the floor, and then back at you again. Poe clears his throat before he finally speaks.

“I… actually did…”

You freeze silently, and then erupt into laughter. “Poe Dameron!” you screech. “The ‘best pilot in the galaxy’, commander of the Starfighter Corps, co-general of the entire fucking Resistance, fucking JIZZED in his pants like a teenager???” You start tittering uncontrollably, much to Poe’s embarrassment. “Shut the fuck up, idiot,” he grouses, which only makes you cackle even louder. He sighs, annoyed but begrudgingly satisfied.

“At least this suit needs to be washed anyway,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and you laugh so hard you start crying.

Tag list (it's here y'all!): @for-a-longlongtime @nerdieforpedro @lu62 @purelyoscar @clemdango04 @survivingandenduring @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @beezusvreeland @alltheglitterandtheroar @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry @agentjackdaniels @dizthemonster @beezusvreeland @queerponcho and anyone else who was interested!

#poe dameron #oscar isaac #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x reader #star wars smut #poe makes a bad joke #oscar isaac cinematic universe

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velvetyvoyage · 23 days

Text

Hey there li'l fella!

sypnosis: how some of the bsd charecters react to you (their lover or s/o or spouse or whateva) gifting them a silly lil pet.

includes: fyodor, nikolai, dazai, kunikida

a/n: i honestly should have stopped after fyodor and nikolai but oh well.

the following convo happens through text

->"Fedyaaaaaaaaa when r u coming home???"

"I'm pretty sure I'll be back late tonight. Why? Is there something wrong? or something you need me to get?"

"no no, i don need anything rn" "i just got you a lil something"

"oh? And what might that be?"

"no spoilers!"

"alright alright. I'll try come home as soon as i can"

"okieeeee" "get me ice cream on the way!"

"[insert ur fav ice cream/s]?"

"yep!"

the following happens in real time

-> you're kneeling down on the floor to admire the lil dark-grey furry friend with a white cotton hat in front of you when you hear someone opening the front door downstairs [don't ask me how ur able to hear a door opening downstairs, u just can. ok?]. assuming it's fyodor, you rush down the staircase.

"why are you awake at this hour?" he says, closing the freezer door.

"i was simply waiting for you" "come! i wanna show you something"

"alright, lead the way."

*Insert Time Skip*

"..." "soooooo, what do ya think?"

"Love, why'd you bring a rat into the house?" "says you" *insert a v big side eye from you to him*

"what's that supposed to mean?" "ohh nothing!"

"well... is this your pet now?" "our pet* " "guess what i named it?"

"what?" " i named him... Phyodor. p-h-y-o-d-o-r"

"Dear, doesn't that name ring a bell?" "oh what ever do you mean?" you say, very dramatically.

-> just stares at you like 🤨😐😑

-> "And what if i don't want to keep it?" "well, then I'll simply "donate" phyodor to a near by orphanage or something"

the both of you were on a stroll outside and decided to sit down on a bench in a near by park

-> "y/nnnnnnnnnnn watcha got there?"

"a dove" "it's so... pretty" you say. as you were feeding a flock of doves, one of them perched up on your lap.

"i wanna take it home"

"QUIZZZ TIMEEEE" he shrieks twirling around. "QUESTION 1: why do you, y/n l/n wanna take it home!?"

"because it's pretty and i wanna admire it every day? but... i can't take it home"

"interesting answer!" "QUESTION TWOOO: why can't you take it home? what is stopping you?"

"you." "HUHHHHH!?!?" "even if i want a pet bird, i know damn well that you will set it free and also i don't want to confine it between bars." you say with a perseptive look on your face. "besides i don't really need a pet"

"ohh? why so" "cuz i have you to take care of?" *dramatic gasp* *flabbergasted*

"I! am not a pet!" "but i still have to take care of you" "hmp!" he says as he puffs his cheeks, shuts his eyes and turns his head the other side. (ur looking north (at the birdies), he's facing east)

"why would i admire a mere bird when i could admire you instead" you murmured, a pleasant smile playing on your face.

"what was that?" "oh nothing"

-> why? just why would you give him a pet to take care of? he's one himself and you know it.

-> the poor thing... :(((

-> whatever the animal is, it'd probably take care of him instead.

*cough* @🍣 *cough*

-> does he really need a pet? like cmon?

-> also if you're in a relationship with him, no matter how responsible or independent you are, he'd have to take care of you too.

-> goldfish. he'd have a goldfish

-> it's the most fitting tbh

-> it'd just be minding it's own business in its lil fish tank unlike a certain mackerel.

the pics at the start were only for aesthetic (which failed but oh well) and is not at all relevant to the post.

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daddy-dins-girl · 7 months

Text

First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it��s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

Taglist: @yorksgirl @chronically-ghosted @rav3n-pascal22 @suzdin @boliv-jenta @senaar-ika @nerdieforpedro @theywhowriteandknowthings @within-the-depths @axshadows @iamasaddie @macabremads @prolix-yuy @vickywallace @survivingandenduring

If you'd like to be added, lmk!

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #frankie friday #frankie morales fanfiction

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xxventiswindblumexx · 1 year

Text

Venti/Barbatos x follower fem reader!

Much like my Smut Soulmate I was nervous for this release since I mainly have scara Simps on here but since they're posting I'm posting! We post together 🥺❤👫

Here's to good fan fiction! 🍷

@hitomisuzuya

⚠Warnings⚠:God complex,superiority kink, corruption, venti being himself, pervert stuff, praise kink, breeding kink, mentions of Alcohol because ya know venti.

Barbatos, the Archon of Freedom, holder of the Ameno Vision and the weakest Archon according to those who do not live in Mondstadt. It doesn't matter what they say however, to you he is all you need, to believe in, to love, to feel protected. You're a nun in the Favonius Cathedral, ever since you were young you've dedicated your life to preserve, protect and to teach everything Barbatos was about.

You lived among another named Barbara, she's the Deaconess, she is older but not by much. However you've noticed she's been neglecting her dutys, only slightly not something an average person would notice. She seems to be infatuated with the Traveller, sure he is interesting but he didn't peek your interest as much as a certain bard that seemed to follow him occasionally. Unaware of the bards true identity of course you tried to stray from temptation, barely speaking to him unless he speaks first which surprisingly happens often.

The bard known as Venti often runs right up to you first thing whenever the traveller enters the church. You of course speak to him, after all even with your crush on the male it would be rather rude and ungodly to ignore him, not that you would want to anyways.

The bard often talks about anything that comes on his mind it seems, things such as if you tried wine or if you really lived in the church all day and night. Yes you've tried wine, only communal wine however, nothing compared to what the bard had drank in his nights at the winery. How do you know? He often came to the church doors late at night crying out to see you in his drunken state, slurring words and being very touchy. You of course always opened the doors as it was your job to help those in need and even with his constant self destructive habits, he's still someone who needs help. It's unknown rather the bard had a home or family so he usually slept in a pew on those nights, and on the other times he isn't drunk you aren't sure where he goes, though the traveller assures you he's fine.

Today was like many others, quiet and peaceful as you could see the sun's rays shining in through the large windows and the sound of the wind blowing gently outside. That morning Barbara informed you that she would be out for the next week, it was rather strange, she's never left the church that long, however she assured you it was just to spend time with family, with her older sister Jean. So you would be alone to care for the Cathedral which wasn't too hard, not a whole lot happens really.

Around noon the traveller came to the church asking for Barbara, you unfortunately had to inform the man that she was out for a week. He took it well and decided to leave however his bard friend seemed to not notice. After Aether left Venti as usual ran to you and started off on his usual conversations.

"So Y/N, are you really alone for a week? Like by yourself? I can imagine it'll be sooo lonely huh" He said in a slight teasing voice as you was both sat at a pew. "Yes, I'll be on my own however I have all I need for company, the winds Lord Barbatos bestowed upon the city is enough company and comfort" You replied knowing he was probably going to try to stay around, in a fantasy sure you would like him to stay.. and maybe do other th- No! You cannot think this way, this is sinful and will distract you from your purpose. Shaking her head some as you cleared your thoughts you noticed Venti as leaning over, his hand reaching up to your face, you move away some "What are you doing Venti?"you asked with a sigh as he giggled " your face is all red, what could be going through your mind? Nothing dirty I hope~! " he teased as you didn't notice. In embarrassment you stood up sighing "Venti I must ask you to leave as I need to clean the pews and return to my duties, maybe another time we can chat about something related to the church" you said to him with a bit of sass as he only smirked as he got up "Oh sure, I'll definitely be coming back to talk about Lord Barbatos~" he teased before leaving.

Later that night as you was already settled into your bed in the back of the Cathedral you started to close your eyes when you heard the all too familiar sound of someone knocking and banging against the large doors of the church. You thought about not even bothering with it being that your alone but after a few minutes the banging continued along with faint whining, sighing you got up in your silk robes and headed towards the front. You wore white beautiful sleeping robes, no they weren't see through, at least not unless gotten wet but if you remember correctly it's not supposed to rain so no worried right?

Just before you get to the door you hear a loud thunder strike! You looked at the windows and noticed the very heavy downpour, just as you were going to grumble about your outfit you heard the banging and ran to the door, almost forgot he was out there.

Unlocking and opening the large doors you see Venti, crumbled onto the stairs, his clothes soaking wet as he looked up at you pitifully "Y/N~ you took sooo long to get the door today... I'm all wet now.. " he whined, you couldn't help but to feel bad for the boy. After all it doesn't rain often here and definitely never stormed this bad in awhile. You reach down to help him up but only to pull you into the rain too. Great just what you needed, not even thinking on how translucent your outfit must be you're more focused on getting the drunken bard inside, helping him up and inside the church, the doors closing behind you. It's then now that you're soaking wet you noticed how cold the main Hall with the pews get at night, you decided he couldn't sleep here, he would catch a cold or worse. You walk him to the back where your room was, of course you couldn't sleep in the same bed so you where already thinking on taking Barbaras room, she wouldn't mind.

You set him down and start looking in your dresser for something wearable for him, of course after you already given him a towel to at least warm up with.

However the whole time you're digging through your clothes you could feel his eyes staring at you, almost forgetting your what used to be a pretty silk nightgown is now see through thanks to the rain. "Can you not stare so hard Venti? I'm trying to find something for you to wear" you say, not able to look at him in embarrassment.

He shakes his head a smile tugging on his lips as he leans in closer "No, it's just that you're so adorable.. you know that don't you? I'd love to hold you in my arms" the bard slurred as he was right up against you, you could feel his chest, did.. did he take his wet clothes off already??

You turn to face him to see he was only in boxers, your eyes couldn't help but betray you, looking at his body and especially the ever growing tent in his underwear.

"V-Venti! Why are yo-" Before you could argue he placed a finger over your lips, his eyes glowed as marking appeared on to his body, it was then when you could see him for who he was, as Lord Barbatos.

"Didn't I tell you earlier? I would come back to talk, of course it would be a bit selfish since it is about me~" He giggled as he was pressed against you, you could feel him poking you, these feelings of arousal was familiar but not all too familiar, yes you had a life of abstinence but you're human and of course would have those thoughts occasionally.

"Speechless? Not surprising, after all you are meeting the very Archon you've been worshiping all your life, tell me Y/N, do you want to please your Archon? To be my little follower? " he said with lust laced heavily in his voice. His tone was soft but filled with desire and want, you wanted him to kiss you so bad right now.

"L-Lord Barbatos... " you mumbled unable to form words, he let out a low groan at the name, it's been ages since he's been called by his true name, it only serves to intensify his lust. "Yes call me that more, your Lord, your Archon~" his soft lips crashing into yours, his hands was quick to pull the wet nightgown off, he didn't want you to get a cold now would he?

Your body felt hot to his touch, you felt sparks go off in your body whenever his hands moved across them, yet you didn't resist it, why should you? He is your Archon, all these years serving him, unaware he was always there, in plain sight.

He pushed you onto the bed, hovering over you, he is so pretty, his eyes.. his glowing tattoos, his face and everything, he truly was an Archon, your Archon.

You shiver under his gaze as you felt himself moving his mouth against your collarbone, your head feeling dizzy as he bites you harshly as you whimper slightly. A soft moan leaves your lips as he moves lower kissing and sucking on your neck, you gasp a bit in surprise, his hands wander over your body as he presses his chest against yours and you both feel heat spread through your bodies, a small whimper escaping your lips as his hands continue their path downwards, to your core.

It doesn't take long for him to find what he was looking for, his hands begin to push your hips upwards, wanting to feel the sensation of skin on skin between the two of you, you whimper once more, feeling a small nip on your neck as he begins to suck on it, you feel yourself arching your back as he continues to work his magic on you, you feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter, you could feel your legs shaking as you tried to keep yourself still, you could feel his fingers slipping inside you to feel the warmth inside you, it was exciting. Moaning out his name and whimpering for more "Ssshhh... I knew you'd like this~, just give me a moment, my muse" he said as his kisses made their way to your stomach, moving up your torso slowly. You moan quietly, your hands gripping his hair gently as your body trembles uncontrollably.

His slender fingers made quick work of you, it didn't take long for you get close already, moaning, whimpering and begging "My Lord, Barbatos please~! " but of course just before you could release he slipped his fingers out, giggling. He's still the same bard you met, a teasing man.

Before you could retaliate you felt his member press into you, whining as tears flowed, the Archon sympathized with you, whiping your tears as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear as he pushed further until he was fully into you.

As he began to move, it wasn't the pain that shocked you so much as the pleasure that made you tremble and let out moans, it was intoxicating really, the sensation was so overwhelming, he thrust harder as he held you tighter as you bucked underneath him, crying out as you gripped his shoulders, you couldn't seem to hold yourself still anymore, a mixture of pleasure and pain mixed inside you as his member went deeper and deeper.

You gasped, gasping loudly as you cried out from the pleasure, he grunted as he held your body firmly against his own.

"Won't you be my lover? My pretty little wife? The woman that'll bring the next Archon into this world~? " He said as his thrusts was harsh against your hips, groans left his lips as he gotten close.

"Beg for me, beg to be filled with my love, to be mine~" he groaned out as his eyes seemed to glow brighter.

"P-please Lord Barbatos, please f-fill me up! " Was all you could say before reaching your climax as well as his own, pushing himself deeper into you, everything happened so fast, he seemed to glow so bright, you fainted from all the stimulation.

.......

Your eyes fluttered open hearing the winds softly blow against the church, you felt sore before remembering last night, shooting up in bed quickly aching and regretting it as you held your stomach some. You noticed you're alone in your room, no sign of the bard.

You get up to get dressed and looked into your mirror to see all the markings, hickeys, bites and.. is that an Ameno mark? On her neck was a glowing mark for the Ameno Archon.

After getting dressed and cleaning up you opened the doors to the church for the regulars to come in, and not to surprising a certain bard was sitting on the stairs with his Lyre, singing a song of love.

#genshin impact venti #venti smut #Archon Smut #lord barbatos

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honeysuckleharringtons · 8 months

Note

just steve harrington being so selfless and not taking time for himself melting into a puddle if the reader or you or y/n (idk which one to put 💀) just asked him if he was okay a lot (I do that 24/7, this is purely self indulgent) and the many times he said yeah and the one time he said no :(

i was originally gonna do a full fic style blurb on this but words have been very hard for me lately so i'm just gonna do a text post about this! hope you don't mind 🫶🏻

warnings: reader is sorta implied to be fem!reader, allusions to steve being treated not so well by his parents as a kid, part of this does mention some upside down violence, tiny mention of food, no use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

send me steve thoughts | ask box

I imagine the first time it happens is probably in gym class when you're younger.

You accidentally hit him right in his pretty lil face with a dodgeball ☹️

And Steve being Steve insists he's okay because "I get hit all the time in basketball and football. I've broken bones and nearly busted my teeth out. A lil dodgeball never hurt anyone."

But you can tell he's hurt.

Whether it's him that's hurt or his bruised ego, you can't really tell.

But some part of him was clearly hurt.

more under the cut!

The second time it happens is when you get paired together for a study group during senior year.

Steve struggles with a lot of subjects, but math is probably his worst.

And it's not like he doesn't want to get better, his parents just never sat down at the table and helped him with anything growing up, and when his nannies told his dad about his report cards, it didn't end very well ☹️

But math is the one he's always had the hardest time with.

So when the two of you get paired to study for the calculus final, you can almost immediately tell he's struggling to understand the questions on the example sheet.

At one point, he just kinda places his head in his hands and groans into his palms.

And you're just kinda like, "Hey, you okay?"

And again, Steve is never one to admit defeat.

"I'll be fine. Can you just help me with question four?"

Surprisingly though, after just a few nights of studying together, you become sort of reluctant allies.

He surprisingly excelled in human biology, which you did not. So, the two of you helped each other where you could.

And then it happened a third time, during the summer after you'd graduated.

Steve had had a rather unsuccessful time trying to flirt with the ladies that often came into Scoops Ahoy.

This day had been no different.

He'd really tried his hardest to get the beautiful ginger in front of you to go with him to the movies on Friday.

But she and her friends just moved along, double-scoop ice cream cones in hand, back to their shopping.

"You good?" you asked, nearly on the verge of laughing, as you stepped up to the counter.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he answered sarcastically. "Just a little bruise to my ego. That was definitely the first time any lady has turned down this beautiful face."

Part of you, though, was hurting. Hurting that, even though you were right in front of him, he'd never bothered to look at you that way.

The fourth time it happened, you really started to question everything you thought you knew about Steve.

Somehow, despite being back in town for a total of two days, you'd gotten roped into something to do with some evil dude named Vecna.

And for once, after everything you'd learned since arriving back in Hawkins for spring break, Steve was the one asking if you were okay.

Also for once, one of you was answering the question truthfully.

However, in the week that followed after, even in the midst of alternate dimensions and weird mutations of bats, you'd learned that Steve might have been causing his previous lady problems on purpose.

And when you saw the painful expression he sported as Nancy Wheeler was reunited with her boyfriend, your own heart shattered all over again.

Still, if there was one thing you were, it was a good friend to Steve.

So, you pulled him aside and asked those three little words.

Steve simply ran a hand through his disheveled hair with a slow nod.

But you could tell he was nearly at the point of breaking.

And the time when he finally answered truthfully, he really did break.

You'd drove with him to the hospital to check up on Max Mayfield, who somehow he'd became friends with despite the age difference.

The room was dead silent, other than the annoying buzzing coming from the lights.

You finally gave him a good once-over as he sat at Max's bedside—his messy hair, his pale face with newly acquired purple spots under his eyes, a small cut under his lip.

And for the first time since you'd known Steve, you watched as tears formed in his eyes.

You were quick to rush over to the other side of the bed, your hand splaying across his back and rubbing soft, small circles against his frame.

"Steve, I know this is a silly question to ask, because we both know the real answer, but seriously, are you okay?"

He knew he couldn't hide. Not any longer. So, he simply let the walls come down, croaking out a small, "No," through his flood of tears.

After crying into your shoulder and allowing himself to finally let go of everything he'd been holding in for all those years, he just simply held you.

Finally, after explaining everything—from the reason why he never told you about the Upside Down, to why he'd used Nancy and all those girls as a distraction from the person he really wanted—he just grabbed your face and kissed you. A sweet and tender kiss, not a desperate or lustful kiss, but a longing one—one he'd waited much too long to give you.

And somehow, even in the midst of all the bad stuff, even in the midst of Steve finally breaking, the two of you could finally find a way to maybe, just maybe, be okay for once. ❤️‍🩹

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

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stumachersfavoritegirl · 1 year

Text

His Favorite Girl <3

Stu Macher x Reader

Disclaimer: The use of Y/N pertains to you inserting your own name. The main character in the story is you, but you just have a a different description. Imagination is fun girlies ;3 I also deeply apologize for the late post, life has been very stressful for me right now and whenever it becomes overwhelming, it's hard for me to think about anything else, which includes "My Favorite Girl" but, don't worry, I'll still be posting it because it's definitely a solitude for me. But, I won't be giving a schedule for it anymore because I feel like that ruins the trust between me and you guys <3 Thank you for understanding and enjoy!

Chapter 2: D-dont...you walk away from me

I tap my pencil on the desk repetitively, anxiously waiting one more minute before the final bell of the day rings. I'm biting my lip as my thoughts race, it's becoming a reality and not another dream my mind thought up. Stu Macher is actually going to the Brew to meet me, and no one else. Not Tatum, Billy, his friend group, me. I've never felt this special before, it was a feeling I didn't want to end. I've never had a boy be vulnerable with me about how they felt, let alone about me. I mean, just yesterday I was a nobody to him. Now, he's meeting me in janitors closest alone, saying my name, thinking about my breast? I mean, holy fuck! Who am I right now that Stu Macher knows me, likes me, wants...me? It's almost overwhelming, the feeling of being wanted by someone you'd never thought you'd have for years. It's too unbearable actually, almost... too good to be true. My thoughts are cut off by the final bell, and I sigh as I finally gather my notebooks in my backpack. A smile uncontrollably forms on my face, as I imagine him looking at me in awe as he walks into the brew. Me sitting there with my hair down, no glasses, skinny jeans and an old tank top of my moms that she doesn't know I took...what? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Probably some cashmere sweater my mom has in her closet too, so my chubby arms can still be covered, while my cleavage is basically full frontal. I blush as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, beginning to exit the classroom. I wonder if he'll be wearing the same thing, or maybe he'll change like me. I wonder if we'll only talk about school work, or maybe we'll talk about us. I've been dying to ever since the janitors closet. All those things he said, what did it mean? My minds been racing since. I still can't believe he was looking at me like that, his pupils were so dilated, I felt like I was staring into his soul looking into them. I make my way into the hallway and walk towards the exit of the school with everyone else. Students begin to scream however, and everyones voices combined grows too loud, ruining my thought process. I roll my eyes, reaching for my cassette player and headphones in my backpack. I grab it, zipping my bag closed, when I look up and see Billy Loomis. He walks pasts me and our eyes meet before he looks away and chuckles, covering his mouth. I furrow my brows as he pasts me, looking down as I rest my headphones on my head. What was that look about? I drag my fingers across my face, trying to pinpoint any food residue on it. When I feel nothing, I reach for my hair, running my fingers through it. Hmph, nothing stuck in it. I let my tongue linger over my front teeth to feel any food stuck in between. But when I feel nothing, my face scrunches together. What could he have been laughing at? I roll my eyes as I exit the building, pressing play on my cassette player as I walk down the school entryway stairs. As I put my cassette player away, I see Tatum and Stu again. His arms are wrapped around her shoulder as a pre rolled blunt rests in his hand. His other hand is flailing around as he talks to Tatum, and she walks beside him with a lollipop in her mouth, toying with it using her tongue.

He looks down and sees this, and he bends down to lick her lollipop. She scoffs, preparing to pluck him in the head with it. He takes off before she can though, and she follows him as she screams out, laughing "Asshole!" He giddily laughs as he runs away, shockingly in my direction. My eyes widen as I see them approach me, and I swallow as I press my lips together. I subtly look up to meet his gaze as he passes me, and he doesn't even look at me. He continues to laugh as he runs by, his smell washing over me again and my knees almost buckle. She runs after him, towards me and her eyes throw daggers at mine. I quickly look away from her, but she makes a note to bump my shoulder as she passes me. I sigh as I rub my shoulder, rolling my eyes. I've literally never hated someone more. I turn to look at them , and he runs back into the building as she's close in pursuit, yelling after him. I shake my head in disbelief as I face forward and continue walking home. Why didn't he look at me? I mean, how could he go from standing over me...confessing his feelings for me, being completely vulnerable with me, to running past me, not even looking in my direction? That was really really weird, and a knot forms in my stomach, trying to depict what it meant.

///////////////////////

As I open the door to the Brew, I look at the clock inside, 4:00 on the dot. I smile to myself as I look around, trying to find his piercing blue eyes. When I don't see them however, I walk to the nearest table, placing my backpack and cassette player on the table before I take a seat. I tuck my wild curls behind my ears, looking around again, dreading that I didn't bring my glasses for emergency purposes. I feel a slight breeze and cover my exposed cleavage with my mothers cashmere sweater, snapping my neck towards the door. It's an older couple, both with canes, laughing as they walk in together. I smile as I look down, feeling as though I'm invading there privacy by staring. I continue to smile as I imagine that being me and Stu eventually. I shake the thought though, and as the breeze continues I decide to grab a small coffee as I wait for him. Looking at the clock again as I get up, it's 4:04. I figured he'd get here before me to see if I was on time or not. I try to calm down though, as I tell myself it's literally only been 4 minutes. Even if it were 10, did I really even expect Stu Macher to show up on time to discuss school work? Granted, he asked, but he never really seemed like the academic type. I kinda liked that about him though, his carefree spirit. He never seemed to let anything bother him, even a bad grade or detention 4 nights in a row. He just kinda, went with the flow of life, something I always admired about him. Something that always made me drawn to him. As I reach the counter, I pull out $1.05 to pay when I feel a sharp breeze from the door again. As I turn to look, I notice it's one of the kids from my school. His hairs blonde and spikey almost, his big brown eyes sweep the crowd of the Brew until they land on mine. I think I've seen him in science class a few times, other times he's blatantly skipping. I flash a friendly smile his way, but he doesn't return one. He quickly looks away as he heads to sit down. I feel like everyone is acting so weird towards me today, and I straighten my squished eyebrows as I approach the register to order.

As I wait for them to make it, I look in his direction and see him sit by the chair next to me. I face forward to grab my small coffee, and head back to my seat. Our eyes meet again, and he quickly averts his again, while pulling out school supplies. I place my coffee on the table as I sit back down, scratching the back of my neck as I continue to look around for Stus tall frame and brunette short hair. I take a quick sip from the coffee, sighing as I pull out my school supplies. I'll just get everything ready for his arrival, maybe I should've gotten him a coffee too? I mentally face palm myself as I pull all my English notes and Algebra textbooks out, pulling out two pencils, two Crayola highlighters, and a Hewlett Packard calculator. I align everything on the desk neatly to pass time, glancing at the clock again. 4:10 now...sheesh, I mind as well have took an extra 10 minutes to do my makeup. I could've used a wand of mascara, my eyes couldn't be more squinted from the lack of sleep I've been experiencing lately. I keep having repeated nightmares of Stu rejecting me in front of the whole school in the cafeteria after realizing I've had a crush on him since Sophomore year. He tells me that, "He'd never like a weird, fat, and boring loser like me. Not even in my dreams." and then as soon as the entire cafeteria erupts with laughter, I'm always startled awake by my alarm clock, covered in sweat, gasping for air, and on the verge of pissing myself from embarrassment. His words will always echo in my head shortly after I'm awake, and they almost begin to echo now, as doubt fills my mind. Why is he so late? But, I shake the thought though, pursing my lips together as I take another glance at the door. Any minute now, he'll walk in. He'll be sweating from running to make it on time, our eyes will meet as he swings open the door, and he'll flash me a sly grin before walking towards me. I'll probably blush and look away, wondering why I was so nervous about this afternoon. Any minute...

/////////////////////////

10 minutes turns to 3 hours, and before I know it, I'm rolling my eyes as I witness another person walk into the Brew that isn't him . Wow, if this isn't straight out of my regular scheduled nightmares, then I don't know what would be. Stu Macher completely just stood me up. This isn't even a date, which makes it worse! I'm literally just supposed to be helping him study, and he couldn't even show up for that? I fight the tears threatening to pour out my eyes as I begin to pack my supplies, aggressively throwing them in my backpack as I mumble to myself. "Fucking prick. How dare he act like that towards me? Like he had the biggest infatuation with me for months, then stand me up only a few hours later. How could he? I mean, what did I ever even do to him? What have I ever even done to anybody? I'm one of the nicest people at that school, I deserve to at least be treated like a person. I mean, at least-" as I get up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder in a huff, my eyes lock with the boy from school again. He's almost looking at me worried, but this time, there's too much rage in me to avert my eyes. This time, I stare directly back at him. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I yell aloud, and his eyes widen before he looks back down at his textbook.

The whole Brew flashes their heads at me, and feeling embarrassed by my outburst but too angry to show it, I completely storm out, swinging the door open and letting it hit the wall behind it. It starts to rain as I walk home, which makes me even more livid. I stomp my way down the street as I continue to mumble more curse words amongst myself. "This is exactly what I get for ever thinking a guy like Stu Macher could ever have any interest in me. I should've known everything was too good to be true! He's never even looked in your direction until today, but had the nerve to have me believe he had some type of serious interest in me? I mean, he couldn't even look at me on school grounds a few hours ago! As soon as I noticed that, I should've made the decision to never come. That was literally the biggest sign I could've seen, that he isn't actually into me. This must just be some sort of game, this has to be. He told me not to be late, just to never show? Who am I even kidding? Why did I ever expect another outcome? This isn't a fairytale Y/n. I'm a loser, he's popular. Our worlds don't even mix. " The rage fills my throat, and I scream aloud, letting all the anger, sadness, pain, and rejection I feel out into the rain. Fuck Stu Macher, Fuck Woodsboro High, fuck everyone! I'm sick of being the nice, quite, good girl. I'm so sick of being everyones target for an easy ego boost, for sadism, for the next human joke. It's my turn to be a fucking asshole.

///////////////////////

As I walk along the school grounds, I notice news anchors scattered everywhere. It's 7:50 am as I rush to my first class, walking by each of them as I listen "-are doing drugs they buy in the classroom. And that they're involved in the occult..."

“Occult?”

"The small town of Woodsboro, California was devasted last night when two young teenagers were brutally murdered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest have been made and the murderer could strike again."

My eyes widen as I continue to look around, noticing every student is paired up with someone. All of them talking amongst themselves. All of their faces, were plastered with worry…with fear. I overhear a few of them as I pass by. "Oh my gosh, I had social studies with Casey."

"-Steve was one of the best football players on our team. What are we gonna do about next weeks game-"

"I heard, they found Casey gutted like a fish. Hung up by her own intestines!"

"I heard they found Steve and Casey chopped into pieces with their body parts scattered all over her house."

I furrow my brows as I continue into the school building, resting my headphones back on my head to drown everyone out as I process everything. I think… Casey Becker and Steve Orlin are dead! I can't believe another murder happened in Woodsboro. We all kinda assumed it would stop after Cotton Weary was arrested. What happened to Mrs. Prescott was horrific and everyone was relieved when he was issued the death penalty. But now, it looks like there still may be a murderer amongst us. I enter English class at 8:00 on the dot, but this time, Mr. Tate doesn't bark at me. He doesn't even raise his head to acknowledge me. I quickly make way for my seat, when I notice Stu Macher isn't in his. I quickly hang my backpack over my seat, pulling out all of my supplies and placing them on my desk before I sit down. I look around at everyone, noticing how silent it is. Usually people would be talking, loudly listening to music, passing notes, laughing amongst each other. But this time, it was different. You could feel the death, the darkness everywhere you looked. I sigh deeply as I face forward, opening my textbook when I notice a post it note sticking out of one of the pages. I flip to the page, dragging my fingers along the familiar messy red thick ink as I read.

"I couldn't make it to the Brew, but I need want to see you before lunch today. I need I'd like to talk to you. It's important to me. Be at our spot by 11:55."

First of all, the audacity! He had me wait 3 hours for him, just for him to not show, and he really thinks I'm gonna show up for him now that he “wants to see me”? I scoff as a chuckle sneaks up and out of my throat. Prick. I should have him wait there for me for an entire hour. I should have him feel exactly the way I felt last night, stranded and abandoned. I rip the post it note into small pieces, allowing each piece to cover my desk and the ground below me, not caring if it's drawing attention. I start to care however, when I notice Stu walk into class. "I know I'm late Mr. Tate. The news anchors are crowding the whole entryway! I almost got tackled to the ground just for a simple little interview." He says, chuckling as he walks backwards to his desk. "Mr. Macher, please quietly take a seat. Some students are trying to mourn in peace." Mr. Tate motions his hand to the crowd of students sitting down, all pouting, staring at a wall or out the window. Stu shrinks into his shoulders as he grits his teeth, mouthing an "oops..." as he pretends to tip toe to his desk. When he passes mine, he looks down at the post it puddle I've left scattered around for anyone to see. He almost stops in his tracks, and our eyes meet. He furrows his brows almost, and smiles like he's accepting a challenge, but I stare back at him angrily, my eyes read that there's no game being played on my end. He quickly squints at me, almost like he's trying to figure out a puzzle, before he continues his way to his seat. I listen as he drags out his chair loudly, plopping into it. I slightly turn my head to look at him, and he’s staring at me so hard, I almost melt right into my seat. I quickly face forward again, swallowing as I tap my pencil on the desk silently. Damn, I definitely didn’t mean for him to see that. I thought he was skipping class today…I mentally face palm myself as I bite my lip, tapping my pencil faster as my anxiety builds. Holy shit, what if that ruined everything? What if he thinks I hate him now? What if he doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore because he thinks I tried to embarrass him by ripping up the post it? What if he-wait, fuck him.

I almost forgot I’m angry at him, in fear that he was angry at me. But I don’t want to be fearful of that. Good riddance he saw it, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Maybe, he’ll finally stop taunting me with his modelesque good looks, bright blue eyes and lean muscular frame. Maybe, he won’t want to torture me with being fake study buddies anymore to boost his already inflated ego. Maybe- “Ms. Y/n. I just told Mr.Macher to keep quiet for the sake of everyone else! What makes you any different?” I taste blood as I stop biting my lip, realizing I’m tapping my pencil on the desk so loud it’s drawing everyone’s attention, including Stu. I purse my lips together as I sink into my seat, looking around and locking eyes with Stu again. He’s grilling me at this point, and feeling rather impudent, I dramatically roll my eyes as I sweep the rest of the post it pieces onto the floor. I rest my head on my hand as I sigh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as a student comes in, handing Mr. Tate a piece of paper. The whole class faces forward, and everyone’s attention is drawn to Mr. Tate. “Kaitlin Bennett, the principals office for questioning.” Everyone turns towards her, and she stands up flustered as she walks towards the exit. I rub the back of my neck, feeling as though it’s burning, and I look behind me to face Stu again, who's still looking at me, sneering. I face forward and watch the girl shimmy past all the students sitting, throwing a small smile at Mr.Tate before she and the other student exit the room. I look down at my textbook again, deciding to just study for my english exam this week. I adjust my glasses as I continue to read, but with everything going on, I easily get distracted. Why did they call that girl to the office for questioning? Do they think she did it? She doesn't look like she'd kill anyone, let alone two. I heard a lot of people saying the crime scene was pretty brutal, no way she did that.

I raise my brows, trying to get back to my english work when suddenly the student behind me passes me a note from under my arm. I slightly jump, never receiving a note in class, I'm startled by the sudden gesture. I quickly turn around, but the student behind me is buried in a Harry Potter Novel. Understanding the concentration that kind of book takes, I quickly face forward, not wanting to interrupt them. I sigh before opening the letter, recognizing the bold sloppy red ink by now,

"See me at our spot after class. Walk there before me, I'll be behind you. I need to talk."

I roll my eyes as I close the note. Jesus, someone is persistent. I crumble the note into a ball before tossing it onto the floor. I refuse to give him any satisfactory communication today after yesterday. I refuse to give into the daze of Stu Macher. I refuse. I hear someone clear their throat behind me, but I don't turn around, expecting our eye contact to turn me into stone.

///////////////////////////

The bell finally rings, and I quietly close my textbook to avoid more eyes on me this period. I gather all my books in my arms as I stand up, grabbing my backpack to place it on my desk. I open it, throwing all my books and school utensils inside before zipping it closed, and tossing it over my shoulder. I exit the classroom, and as I walk around, I notice almost everyone is either mourning, or gossiping about how crazy this recent murder was. Especially after last years. You can tell some of them were Casey or Steves friends, while others are just excited that something is going on to talk about. I look down as I continue towards my locker, when suddenly, I feel someone grab my arm, hard and almost yank me forward. I look up to protest, and it's Stu. "Don't draw attention..." he says with a suggestive tone, and obviously fake smile plastered across his face. "...just walk." I obey, afraid of any retaliation if I didn't, and I walk beside him. We walk past my next class and down the janitors corridor. A few eyes glare at us, but none linger for too long. I think everyones just too focused on the murders to care about regular school gossip. I should be too, but how can I ignore something like this?

He's everywhere to me but almost no where at the same time, it's almost impossible to not think about him for a second. We enter the same janitors closet we were in before, he leads me in with one hand before looking both ways and entering behind me. The rooms dark again, and I feel completely vulnerable just standing in the middle of it. He closes the door behind him, and I hear him slightly groan before he turns the light on, turning around to face me. I'm completely flustered again while I stare up at him, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I whimper beneath him. "Y/n..." he speaks to me softly, almost singing my name. He backs me up against a wall, and leans his hand against it, towering over me. My knees almost buckle from the music in my ears. My name coming out his mouth is almost dreamlike, and I pinch my thigh to make sure everything is real. "I know you made it on time to the Brew yesterday. I like that, you listen." he says, smirking as he gestures at me with his index finger. He taps me in my chest before letting it drag down my cleavage, past my belly, and almost at my pelvis.

"But, unfortunately I couldn't make it due to that little rumor you spread of us. I mean, Tatum was pretty pissed. A lot of things are out of my control when her rage is involved." He taunts me with this, playing with a loose strand of my hair in his fingers as he maintains eye contact with me, the slyest grin on his face. " I mean..." he pushes himself off the wall, stepping away from me as he begins to circle the room. "I know you've had feelings for me for some time now, but maybe I should've emphasized how much secrecy would be important in this situation." He completely faces me now, "I thought, maybe I'd be able to trust you?" His question sounds almost threatening, but a frown is plastered across his face, and his eyes are soft as he continues to look at me. "It wasn't m-me Stu. I-I would never discuss anything w-we do to anyone, I mean, I d-don't speak to a lot of people here."

"Then who do you speak to?" His demeanor hardens now. He looks me up and down, almost like he's trying to read me, "I mean, n-not really a-anybody. No one. I swear." I find myself being awfully eager to please him, and I loosen my shoulders as the last word leaves my mouth. He sucks in his breathe before mumbling a small, "mmm" placing his hand on his chin as he says it, almost smiling before he says, “I had a good feeling I could trust you then.” He’s smirking as he says this, and anger begins to boil inside of me. How can he even accuse me of being untrustworthy, when just yesterday he left me waiting for him in a Brew, alone for 3 hours! How could he even sit here and stare at me like I'm the problem here? "W-what about me?" I manage to spew out, almost in a whisper, but he hears me. He begins to slowly walk towards me, "What about you?" he asks me, leaning back against the wall over me. I hesitate at first, scared of where this could go, but he grabs my cheeks with his right hand, lifting my face up to look at him. "Speak." His face is inches from mine, and I close my eyes. Moaning silently as I bite my lip, wishing he'd just kiss me already and forget about fucking Tatum. I open my eyes before I continue, completely flustered at his domineering demeanor towards me.

"I thought I could t-t-rust you last night, you left me stranded there alone for 3 hours. It was so emba-"

"You waited for me for 3 hours? " He snorts almost, and my face burns completely as it forms a snarl, gritting my teeth before I mutter, "fuck you." I begin to push past him.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it huh? Hey!”

Before I can exit the room, he grabs my arm, hard. I wince at the pain and franticly look up at him, shocked at the sudden aggression. "D-dont...you walk away from me." He says, calmy. His eyes are closed as he says it, but he opens them to look at me, his smile is gone and his stare leaves my heart pounding out of my chest. I swallow as I look back up at him, and he swings me back up against the wall before grabbing both my shoulders. "I'm...sorry. OK. I should've let you know somehow that I couldn't make it. That was on me, that was my fuck up." He maintains eye contact with me the whole time as he says this, sweat beads begin to form on his forehead and his lips are almost dripping with spit. "Just...don't-walk away from me. We aren't done talking." His head is slightly tilted to the side, but he slowly lets go of my shoulders before he begins to run his hands along my arms. "Now, let's make this date happen, huh? Tonight's not a good night for me unfortunately..." he says, tilting his head to the side as he grits his teeth and widens his eyes, but he smirks as he continues.

"...but tomorrow, after school ofcourse, we can meet. Finally. Let's say, your house around 9." I purse my lips, wanting to protest at the time stated but too afraid for his reaction. "Be a good girl and agree...right?" He says, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip as he gently nods his head, waiting for me to do the same. I slowly nod my head as my lip quivers. "Good." He slowly inhales as he drags his finger down my lip, to my chin and down my throat. He lets it trail along my collar bone before he leans in, I feel his breathe against my neck as he rests his hand on my shoulder . "I'll make sure to make it up to you tomorrow night." His breathe lingers against my ear, and I close my eyes before accidently moaning aloud. I quickly open my eyes as I purse my lips together, and my heart begins to beat through my chest and out my ass. I quickly clear my throat as I look down, and he backs up before chuckling slightly. "Don't feel the need to hide that later on, ok?" He says, smirking as he bites his lip, exiting the room. I'm left standing there alone again in a puddle of my own juices. Could he be anymore of a tease? I take my hair out its ponytail, as I migraine attacks my skull. Why does he have to be so confusing? And why am I so turned on by it? I run my fingers through my hair, replaying the entire moment. It was supposed to be a moment of power for me, but instead I surrendered to him, just as Tatum did yesterday. But, it's almost like I couldn't resist him, like I had to obey him. Who am I kidding? Why even spend this entire experience being upset with him over one small accident, when I could instead enjoy this entire moment in it's glory?

Stu Macher was finally speaking to me and there was no way I was letting one little form of miscommunication get in the way of this ecstasy ride. I mean, whatever time was wasted yesterday will be made up tomorrow night, right? I inhale sharply as I run my hands over my face, squinting my eyes together as I swallow. Ok, get it together. I take one last breathe in, before exiting the janitors closet. As I enter the school hallway, I realize I meant to tell him my address. Shit, then my parents will be home...I sigh, realizing this might not go as dreamlike as I hoped it would. The late bell rings and I pick up my pace as I head to my next class, I have to figure out a way to get my address to him, I have to make tomorrow night happen, I have to finally spend time with him. I mentally face palm, angry at how flustered I was in the moment that I didn't even tell him my address. How could I let that important piece of information slide? Ok, I have the rest of this school day and tomorrow to get my address to him. It has to happen, not matter what, there can't be another miscommunication that gets in the way of us. That gets in the way of my future.

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lvmity · 4 months

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byler fic recs

hi, here are some of my recent favorites from the byler tag on ao3, fics i can't forget and that made me feel things. adding little descriptions based on my reading of the fics but please read the authors' own descriptions lol.

ps: for this post i chose fics in the canon universe and most are post-s4 vol 2.

(all the fics listed are on archive of our own -ao3)

and if i could give you the moon -qulizalfos

rated T / 7k words / one shot

mike and will go outside for a supply run during the apocalypse, end up hiding in the arcade and talking. the painting comes up. this fic feels very in character.

every breaking wave (shipwrecked souls) -eightfifteen (funkylittlebidiot)

rated T / 99k words / 21 chapters

el and will moved back to hawkins. this fic has a lot of the party dynamics in hawkins high school, and i love the writing of byler throughout it. i don't usually read long multi chaptered fics but i couldn't recommend this one more. I'm serious.

it’s my time coming- astrobi

rated T / 7k words / one shot

will leaves the house late at night before they fight vecna and stuff. mike finds him, they talk. i won't spoil anything else but read the tags. i love the characterization in this one!

esoteric -smoosnoom (moonsooms)

rated T / 5k words / one shot

mike broke up with el, he tries to talk to will and they are honest with each other for probably the first time in a long time. will and mike's characterizations here are, as always with this author, very good.

i'll kidnap all the stars (and i will keep them in your eyes) -delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)

rated G / 6k words / one shot

mike takes will stargazing as a surprise and they have a conversation. i remember this fic as soft and well written, i love mike in this.

skip the conversation (when you already know) - delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)

rated G / 4k words / one shot

another one by the previous author! this fic feels natural to byler's friendship. will's family moves back to hawkins and mike and will are spending time together in his new house. they talk, as i always say not to spoil things. and i just really recommend this fic.

sleeping with the lights on -singingseok

rated T / 73k words / 4 chapters

another long multi chaptered fic I'm recommending! this is honestly the only other i really like. unlike the previous, this one is mike centric and i love reading a good mike pov. read the tags. i already made a post screaming about this fic, it's amazing.

salubrious -smoosnoom (moonsooms)

rated T / 4k words / one shot

oh this one is so sweet. "will wakes up from a nightmare, and mike keeps him close", to quote a part of the description on ao3. this is awesome and if you want some calming happiness i suggest reading it!

okay, i think that's it for now! i might have missed some good fics while searching through my byler bookmarks, and this only took me about an hour and a half to organize. but if you end up liking any of these, check out more from the authors because they are exceptional!

also, if anyone wants modern setting fic recs or anything else feel free to comment, I'd be happy to do another post like this later on.

#byler #byler tumblr #byler fic rec #byler fanfic #fabis stuff #i couldn't just recommend everything from the authors but i do recommend everything from every author here

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tuffmallowinteractive · 24 days

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Tuff Mallow Update 4/18/24

Let's talk about all the things.

I've always been a "tell you like it is" person to a fault. I have never had a problem being direct, even if it has been awkward sometimes communicating.

So if I haven't had anything to say, you can be sure something serious is up.

Most recently I moved. And it was necessary. I was in a previous living situation that made game dev nearly impossible. I'd kept trying though, even as the world was crashing around me, while trying to keep up a front that everything was good. My dev friends were like "JmB, things are not okay."

It was a hard pill to swallow. So I doubled my efforts, took on more work and finally moved and wow have things been moving fast since then!

I went to GDC 2024!!

Having peace of mind in my own home was already awesome, but then the opportunity to go to GDC arose and I couldn't turn it down! I traveled to San Francisco and attended the week long event for people of the gaming industry, via a scholarship initiative by Black Voices in Gaming! I learned so much and made so many connections with talented phenomenal game industry professionals. But most importantly, I came to understand that this little Mallow has a place in the gaming industry. That the way I am is valid. That I don't need to be perfect, and that other game professionals want to see other creatives succeed and are also actively working towards that goal. It was inspiring and humbling and I never felt more a part of a community. It just reminds me to try harder to build up the creatives around me because if we all come up together, we come up strong!

Well Now We Are Back in Action!

I am back home. Finally stabilizing a workable schedule. And finally able to finish the things I promised! I owe people content!

- The Closet Door main release

- Background art to clients

- Chibi art to a supporter

- Some art for upcoming jam releases (shhhh)

There's so much going on this month!

I want so desperately to promise that TCD will be out next month- I mean all I have to do is finish coding the game in!

But for now...

I'm just taking it one step at a time.

You'll definitely know when I release this game (as well as announce the other projects I've been fortunate to be a part of, as well as the solo projects I've been working on behind the scenes. Because I am SO READY!!

As soon as I can officially make a beta version of The Closet Door (late April or Early May), things will move pretty fast! So at that time I hope you will still be with me on this journey, as it's been hell for us all getting here. I'll most likely announce it on all media channels.

Professionals Do... Their Best

I'm thankful. Always thankful. I would never have made it this far without the kindness people have shown me.

I am not perfect.

Professionals are not perfect. And I refuse to attempt perfection anymore, as I've learned just how toxic that can be to anyone's physical and mental health.

Best believe at any point that I am striving to do the best I can. I will always give the best of what I've got to my work and to others if I can help in any way.

And I will continue to strive towards being genuine and expressing those beliefs in everything I do and make.

I probably won't post another very personal dev post like this again. But it needed to be said.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm AlwaysJmB.

And I am doing my best. 💗

Until next time~

#tuff mallow #amare game #theclosetdoor #visual novel #otome news #otome

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peqchsoup · 2 years

Note

hi! i love your work! may I request #19 and #37 for tangerine?

Ahh thank you so much!!! I feel so blessed that someone actually sent a request and enjoys my work! I really hope you were referencing the bed prompts post because that's what I wrote and I love it (I will also write for prompt #37 at some point today or tomorrow, but for now here's Prompt #19!!

Prompt #19: "You were kidnapped and I won't let anyone else get to you again."

Hold Me Tight

Tangerine x fem!reader

TW: mentions of blood, violence, kidnapping, and implied r@pe

I didn't proofread this don't judge me

You knew you should've trusted your gut. Something felt very off.

You were sitting at the bar of a fancy restaurant, waiting for the Twins. In the past two weeks, you worked on one of their longest jobs with them and it turned out to be a huge success. So, understandably, you wanted to celebrate. Tangerine chose Le Gavroche, one of the most expensive restaurants in London.

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

You should've known that Tangerine wanted to do something expensive to celebrate. That's why you were looking at the menu for Le Gavroche on Tangerine's sofa, scoffing at the prices,

"£64 for Turbot? Are you mad?" Tangerine's head whipped round to look at you, Lemon giving you the 'take it back' eyes.

"Am I mad? I dunno, am I mad? Lemon, am I mad?"

"Don't bring me into this." Lemon went back to playing some kind of Thomas the Tank Engine game on his phone. Tangerine looked back at you,

"That job took weeks. Lemon nearly died, then I nearly died. So excuse me if I want to celebrate with some expensive food. I can't use this money when I'm dead, so I may as well use it now!"

You watched as Tangerine's eye twitched, his jaw wound tightly,

"All I'm saying is that I'm not paying £64 for a bit of fish!"

"Well I'll fucking pay for you, I'll buy the whole meal so no one gets upset. There, happy?"

"A bit, yeah," you muttered, and went back to looking at your phone. You should have realised that Tangerine would pay anyway, seeing as you were sitting in his £1.6 million townhouse in central London.

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

So here you were, sipping your £30 glass of wine. When the bartender asked how you would be paying, you told him to open a tab under Tangerine's name and proceeded to recite his credit card details. You had those digits memorised a long time ago.

Tangerine wasn't a sugar daddy, per se, but he definitely had a sweet spot for you and if you wanted it, you usually got it. There was nothing romantic or even sexual about the nature of your relationship, he just couldn't resist your face. Which is why you were sitting at the bar in the black Rhode velvet midi dress with black Louboutin pumps and a Gucci canvas wrist pouch. Lemon and Tangerine took you to Harrods earlier that afternoon and watched you try on at least 13 dresses with the Louboutins. You were finally going to have your own pair of red bottoms and you couldn't be more excited. Tangerine's materialistic personality really came in handy sometimes.

Once you had picked out your dress and bag, the Twins led you to the men's section to get themselves a new suit each. Lemon quickly picked out a simple black Burberry two-piece, tried it on, and was happy. Tangerine, however, pondered over more suits than you did dresses, and landed on a Gucci two-piece in burgundy. They each got a black Tom Ford silk tie to pull their outfits together, and to yours.

You couldn't wait to see them all dressed up in their new suits. Admittedly, you arrived early to the bar. But upon checking your watch, they were already 10 minutes late, and you hadn't heard anything from them. It was probably just that Tangerine was being too anal about his moustache looking perfect that they ran over. So, you took a photo of your glass of wine and sent it to the groupchat you shared with the brothers,

Got a tab started in your name already, T! And the more drunk I get, the more I like to spend…

When you sent that message, you were certain you'd get a speedy response. Tangerine didn't like you getting drunk when you were by yourself. The world was too dangerous and too many men would try to take advantage.

A few minutes passed and you had no response. It wasn't like them to not respond quickly. Lemon was attached to his phone most of the time, so you were certain he'd say something, at least. You wondered if your message hadn't sent to their phones, so you stepped outside to see if there was an issue with the signal inside the restaurant. You tapped your message in the chat and the little 'delivered' label popped up. So nothing was wrong with your phone. You stepped back inside to close the tab and headed off down the street attempting to flag down a cab to go to Tangerine's and see what was going on.

As you were waving down a cab, a black van quickly overtook it, cut it off and pulled up right in front of you. That was a bad sign.

You tried to start running but you had barely turned around before a guy grabbed you around your middle, covered your mouth to stop you from screaming, and dragged you into the side door of the van. It all happened so quickly that no one even seemed to see it happen.

There was another man who closed the side door of the van behind the man who dragged you in and no one else in the back of the van. It sounded like there was only one driver up front, though you couldn't be sure. Three men was doable. You had taken out more before. Although you were better prepared in previous circumstances.

You started to thrash against the man holding you from behind, kicking at the one binding your feet. The man holding you had his arms around your arms, holding them down to your sides so you couldn't hit either of them. The one binding your feet sent a startling hit to your cheek, knocking you near enough unconsciousness to let them get on with what they were doing. Having your hands and feet bound wasn't ideal, but it was a hell of a lot better than being unconscious. God only knows what they would do if you were out cold.

You had no idea how long you'd been travelling, and you had a feeling that the lack of windows in the back of the van meant that anyone back there wasn't supposed to know where they were or how far they travelled. The van came to a stop and you heard the click of the handbrake, meaning you had reached your destination. The man who initially grabbed you to put you in the van took hold of you and threw you over his shoulder, holding onto your legs so you wouldn't fall off. He stepped out of the van and into what appeared to be a barn. Probably on an abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere.

The man carrying you dropped you onto the ground with a thud and lifted you so you were on your knees in front of him, your hands tied behind your back. He stepped aside to reveal the leader of their gang; a tall man with a pistol held at his side.

"No offence, guy," you started, "but I have no clue who you are. Are you sure you have the right girl?"

He laughed and pointed the gun at your forehead.

"You may not know who I am, but I know exactly who you are. Lemon and Tangerine took my family from me, so I'm taking the closest thing they have to a family."

Oh.

OH.

This was happening. This was actually happening. You were going to die. You brain was going a million miles a minute. You'd never see Lemon and Tangerine ever again. You wouldn't get to tell them how much they meant to you. How much you loved Tangerine. Not that it mattered, you were going to die.

The gun clicked as the man cocked it, walking towards you and pressing the cold metal to your skin. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the end.

An bang rang out somewhere in the barn, your breath caught in your throat as you clenched your eyes closed tighter. You huffed out your breath quickly, breathing heavy when you realised it wasn't you who was dead, but the man who held the gun to your forehead. He lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling around his head. You looked up and there, directly in your line of sight 30 metres in front of you, were Lemon and Tangerine. They wielded huge guns and were wearing rain macs and rubber gloves and they just started blasting the gang members, somehow managing to avoid being shot themselves.

They mowed down the gang in minutes and came running over to you. Lemon started untying you whilst Tangerine threw his gun aside, dropped to his knees, and ripped his gloves off to hold your cheeks in his hands. He moved your face side to side, up and down before looking you directly in the eyes,

"Are you alright, love? You're not hurt, are you?"

You smiled at Tangerine's concern, feeling your hands and feet become free and rubbing your wrists to dull the ache of the friction burns from the rope, "I'm alright, T. I promise."

"I'm so so sorry we weren't at the restaurant in time." He looked genuinely guilty that him and his brother weren't around to keep you safe. The Twins helped you to your feet and Lemon pulled you into a hug. You leaned your head against his chest, listening to his heart while he explained,

"They sent guys to Tangerine's house to slow us down so they had a chance to get you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Hey, it's okay," Your voice was soft, "You found me and you saved me. I owe you both my life."

"You don't owe us nothing, darling."

You lifted your head to look at Tangerine, though still in Lemon's embrace. You noticed through their transparent rain macs that they were wearing their dinner suits.

"How did you find me?"

Tangerine smirked solemnly, "I guess your kidnappers weren't smart enough to turn your phone off. You still have your location shared with us." Tangerine lifted his phone to display the dot your phone made on the map.

"Oh, Tan." You left Lemon's arms and wrapped your arms around Tangerine's neck, pulling him close to you in a hug. He wasn't normally one for hugging, that was more his brother's style, but he quickly untensed and lifted his arms to put them around you. He placed his head on top of yours, giving a small kiss to the top of your head.

Lemon walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, "let's get you home."

The drive home was peaceful. Tangerine drove while Lemon sat in the back with you, comforting you when he noticed you visibly shaking. He stroked your hair and shushed gently when he could hear you whimper.

Tangerine watched in the rear view mirror every now and then, vowing to himself that, from this moment, he would never let you out of his sight ever again. That meant he wasn't driving you back to your flat. No, absolutely not. He was taking you to his home where you would live from that day forward. You already had your own bedroom there for jobs that finished late at night, as did Lemon. Tangerine couldn't see any reason for you not to live there with him.

It was deep into the night when you got back to Tangerine's house. Lemon walked to his room and Tangerine led you to his where he undressed and slipped on a pair of pyjama pants before he helped you take off your dress and found one of his t shirts for you to wear. There were no boundaries between you and the Twins these days. You had known them for long enough and had done so many jobs with them where you had to change in front of each other that it wasn't a big deal anymore.

"Goodnight, Tangerine. Thank you again." You said quietly, shuffling towards the bedroom door to leave and go to your own room.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed." "You’re sleeping in here tonight, love."

"Why?"

"Why? You were kidnapped, love, and I won't let anyone else get to you again. I don't want you leaving my sight."

You smiled and shuffled towards Tangerine's bed, climbing under the cover and shuffling close to the wall so he had plenty of room. He lay down and pulled you close to him and you put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slowly lulled you to sleep.

"This alright, darling?"

You smiled, warmed by him asking for consent to just hold you. He was so polite.

"Mhm, goodnight Tangerine."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

#tangerine #bullet train #lemon and tangerine #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #aaron taylor johnson #tangerine and lemon

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lucyvaleheart · 10 months

Text

Hey there! I'm Lucy, your local sword lesbian. I'm trans, poly, and extremely flirty. Married to @jadedkitteh, dating @ginny-erinschild!

I love to ramble about things, and I love to hear people ramble about things, so if you want to hear me talk or talk yourself, pop into my dms~!

I post a lot of varying things, mostly reblogs; 99% untagged except for the rare #swordposting. Ton of horny stuff, so if you're not 18 or older, probably stop here.

I very frequently keep an eye on my notes and follow people who reblog from me; if you're leaving lots of tags or reblogging lots of stuff.... I'll notice. 💖 Might even say hi....~

My interests

I'm big into games, queer shit, I also stream sometimes (twitch.tv/LucyValeheart), books, action and fighting and fantasy in all forms... Swords in particular, which hopefully is obvious given my title. Check my #swordposting tag for more about the ones I own!

I also own lots of rocks, so #rockposting may have one or two posts in it soon.... Who knows :3

Horny shit

Im into a lot. Like, a lot. And finally I've managed to fill out a kink chart I found online. It doesn't cover everything, but it hopefully paints a decent picture 💖

I'm about 90% submissive, but it's covered by my brattiness, and there's always that sneaky 10% domme in me....~

.....though admittedly, lately I've swung from 90 to 60, then back to 95, and it's really dependent on the day.... One of these days I'll figure it out!

I won't likely be posting any photos publically (shyness, self-dislike, security, etc) but I'm very happy to show people I'm talking to privately. If you want to skip tumblr messenger, my discord is lucyvaleheart; leaving that nice and settled deep under the cut so you have to work for it ;)

Just make sure your first message or so includes who you are on tumblr, or I may not keep you added for long <3 and do bear in mind that I am a lesbian, so I likely won't do any flirting with men :p

But don't be too intimidated~! Save that for a little further in this intro when you find out how tall and strong I am ❤️ I'm very open to chatting, and pretty good at keeping a conversation going c: try sending a simple "Hey" and I'll get things going from there!

About me

I'm trans as my header says, she/her, it/it's, 6'0" and about 350 pounds of muscle. I am obscenely strong. Yes, I can probably lift you. Yes, even you. Yes, I'm sure. I'm certainly going to try. 💖

A testimonial:

Here's a gif of my favorite katana and a video of my sparkliest rock for getting through all that text.

#pinned #swordposting #I'll have to actually try using that tag #that sounds fun #rockposting

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reiderwriter · 4 months

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My Love Is Mine All Mine

Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕

Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.

Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!

Masterlist || Series Playlist

Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen.

He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy.

You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you.

He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze.

It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer.

The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare.

The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself.

Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love.

You accepted understanding from him, though.

When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage.

He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein.

But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before.

“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.”

It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down.

“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled.

“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?”

You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over.

You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess.

“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?”

“I think so.”

“Then set up the board and let's play.”

He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly.

More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did.

You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end.

You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left.

The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages.

But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there.

“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag.

You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.

He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours.

“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-”

“What?”

He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first.

“I live down the hall.”

You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall.

“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had.

Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing.

Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.

One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day.

“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying.

“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.”

“I have three PhD's-”

“And still you haven't seen Clueless?”

You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition.

Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work.

You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.

What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways.

He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe.

Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you.

You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back.

Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other.

You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered.

But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again.

The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway.

You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.

You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.

“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper.

Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause.

“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind.

As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.

Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another.

“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be.

“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips.

You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights.

“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon.

“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world.

“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest.

His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you.

Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.

Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours.

It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right.

He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again.

When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair.

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch.

“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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holewithinahole · 9 months

Text

The Spirit’s in It | Egon Spengler x nb!reader [2/3]

Summary: “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

What you meant as a light joke to relax him did quite the opposite. He straightens, righting up his glasses one more pointless time. “I have a degree in nuclear engineering,” he states before walking out, leaving you confused and feeling like you’ve spent the entire time offending him unintentionally.

Warnings: dubious science, non-native writer, non-beta’d

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

And here's part 2! I'll probably post part 3 tomorrow so I can upload everything on Ao3. I realised this work is super underwelming compared to what I've been releasing lately haha But well, if one person like it that's all I'm asking!

I also love write all the different dialogues I have in mind for the Ghostbusters. It's like I can hear the voices of the actors in my head! It's all very amusing.

EDIT: I hate the third part so I'm rewriting it lmao

Fall, 1984

“What are they doing?” You mutter under your breath as you step into the psychology aisle of Columbia University. It’s the most animated you’ve ever witnessed Weaver Hall be.

Clutching your latest research papers, you stride to the paranormal studies labs, almost running into a green-shirted man in the process. You mutter a quick apology without looking back. Inside the lab, a few men are busy getting boxes on trolleys and carrying them out of the room. You clear your throat as you stand close to one of them.

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Spengler is?”

The man arches an eyebrow and shrugs. “No idea who that is.”

Putting down a box labeled ‘Electronics’ on his trolley with a loud crashing noise – which makes you wince, he starts making his way out of the room, smacking your flank in the process.

“You do know those items partially belong to the researchers working here,” you argue, clutching your side and standing in front of him. “You can’t just take them without permission.”

“Listen, I’ve been asked to remove this stuff, ok? So move out of the way.”

You swallow back your irritation, ready to conjure up every ounce of antagonism, but you’re halted in your need for confrontation by a giddy tone.

“Ah, Professor.”

You turn back to face an uncharacteristically smirking Dean Yaeger: a self-satisfied smug that would deserve to be wiped right out of his face. It makes you fear the worst.

“I’m sorry to announce to you that Dr. Stanz, Dr. Venkman, and Dr. Spengler have departed our university,” he declares, voice devoid of any empathy.

“Departed?” you ask. “Did they quit?”

“Oh no,” he laughs. “We’ve terminated their contracts. The psychology pole deserves better than three frauds ridiculing our university.”

It is, indeed, the worst that could happen. Baffled, you watch as the dean gives directions to the workers with a large smile. You’ve never wanted to hit someone more.

“Frauds?” you scoff, trailing behind him. “Dr. Stantz has a doctorate in parapsychology, so does Dr. Venkman. Dr. Spengler graduated from this very university and possesses several diplomas notably in nuclear engineering and psychology. What makes you possibly think they don’t deserve their places here?”

Another worker almost bumps into you. You glare at them.

“While I admire your lovely attempt at defending the undefendable, the decision is taken. This room will be emptied and used by actual scientists.”

The dean has started making his way out of the room, radiating self-satisfaction and throwing prideful looks at everything his eyes come across. You run after him, pushed forward by this revolting sight.

“Those files are their own research! You can’t take them away without consulting with them first! Yes, they were working for this university, but it’s still years of their work that you’re just confiscating.”

The smirk he gives you makes you regret your words instantly. “Since you’re so willing to maintain your questionable relationship with the three of them, you won’t see any problem with being entrusted with those files? I’m sure you can return them in person.”

“Questiona–” you stutter, but Dean Yaeger claps his hands obnoxiously.

“It’s settled then.”

Shit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Accepting to take care of Dr. Venkman, Dr. Stantz, and Dr. Spengler’s stuff had been both your good deed of the month and a middle finger at the face of Dean Yaeger. Stuffing piles of boxes in your tiny car hadn’t been easy. Especially since the dean had decided to dump everything in front of the university, grinning all along, savoring his cruel little prank. It says a lot about the actual interest Columbia University has in the work of its researchers.

There were at least over thirty different boxes, filled to the brim with research papers, littered all around your apartment. Obviously, Yaeger had made sure to take back all equipment – broken or not, leaving you with pounds of paper stored in their cardboard containers.

That is to say, after a month, you're starting to regret it.

The cluster of your home is slowly but surely disrupting your peace of mind. It’s almost as if the air has been saturated by dust and cardboard specks, the lack of luminosity not helping. Browsing through research papers and ordering everything has been fun at first, your curiosity satisfied, but you couldn’t decently keep digging through personal stuff. Therefore, you stopped, and now you loathe the view of these boxes.

The problem is that you have absolutely no idea where the three men went, and even on your deathbed, no one would witness you ask the dean for information. You simply can’t believe they would just switch universities, despite it being the ‘logical’ course of action. Mainly because Yaeger would behave like a goddamn leech and talk shit about them ‘till all universities in the country know about their turbulent history. You hoped for one of them to drop by your department but no one ever showed up.

Opening the door to your apartment and immediately feeling dejected at the view of the stacked boxes, you let out a sigh, getting rid of your work clothes and falling head first on your couch. You grab the TV remote, zapping mindlessly before deciding to let the device run in the background as you stand up to prepare something to eat.

During the small amount of time you’ve spent with the doctors this month, you’ve learned more about spooky theories and proton cages than about their actual life stories. Well, sort of. Dr. Stantz was certainly the most open of them all.

“Have you ever experienced a paranormal experience before?” he had asked, one morning, as he leaned conspiratorially towards you.

“I don’t think so?” you replied.

He had then talked extensively about a plethora of incidents, most notably a sponge migration which he’d assured was clear proof of paranormal activity. You had simply nodded, not wanting to question nor deter his enthusiasm. You quickly noticed – despite Dr. Spengler’s eclectic choices of study which could testify about his interest in science in general, Dr. Stantz remained the most passionate of the two; his obsessions towards specific subjects going further than a simple craving for knowledge on a Sunday afternoon. He kept lending you books on the supernatural which you had to decline after a fifth one joined the pile on your bedside table. It made wonder if the man didn’t own a secret bookshop somewhere. It left you with a sour aftertaste, knowing you had some of his prized possessions in your bedroom but couldn’t return them.

Dr. Venkman was– well… he was something else entirely. If Dr. Stantz was eager to share clever insights, Venkman was eager to share made-up stories. The diplomas on the wall did attest to his title of ‘Doctor’ but he couldn’t be more detached from it. Oh, he was researching psychological phenomena alright, but never knowledge for knowledge’s sake or even out of pure professionalism as you could expect from a researcher. If psychology books were leafed through, it was for manipulation tactics and to weaponize the uses of sugary words. In that, he was talented.

“Is it my time to interview the case subject?”

It was your third time in Weaver Hall. Both Dr. Stantz and Dr. Spengler had looked up from their ‘ghost trap’ schematics as Venkman took place in the chair in front of you.

“You never do interviews,” Dr. Stantz had said, deadpan.

“I feel magnanimous today.”

Venkman was a case study on its own, a study you weren’t willing to commit to. You had trouble understanding his true intentions most of the time. In the end, he remained the most enigmatic of the three, despite a boastful, overly dramatic persona (All the world’s a stage!). In the end, you couldn’t genuinely despise the man when he was driving away nosy students and even nosier teachers with phlegm, or when, during his rare excursions in the lab, he would bring sweet treats and coffee.

As for Dr. Spengler, well… he was brilliant and devoted to his work. Alike Dr. Stantz, although sporadically, he would sometimes get caught in a tirade of explanations and postulates. Every day, you resented the apprehension that staved off your second meeting for he could make your neurons flare and burst into ideas that’d spin in your head fast enough to weave entirely new conceptions. You were somewhat drunk on the feeling, making you distracted which even your colleagues noticed, embarrassingly enough. It all ended up in a self-deprecating mantra that led you away from Weaver Hall and back to the arms of your students and lab partners.

Now, they are gone, and you have no idea how to reach out.

“Are you troubled by strange noises in the middle of the night?”

You know Dr. Spengler has spent his entire life either studying for new degrees or researching. Universities are probably all he has ever known, and that makes you wonder how he’s managing the whole thing. Maybe he was hired by another university; with his degrees, it shouldn’t be too hard, despite what happened. Damn it, you should have given either of them your number. What if he’s already halfway across the country by now?

“Do you experience feelings of dread in your basement or attic?”

What the–

You glide out of your kitchen, spatula in hand, almost falling as your sock-clad feet slide on the wooden floor.

“If you or any of your family ever seen a spook, specter–”

“You’re fucking with me.”

As the three of them stand inside your TV offering ghost-hunting services, it makes you wonder if they didn’t take things a tad too far – or too seriously, this time.

“Call the Ghostbusters! We’re ready to believe you!”

Well, you certainly don’t believe it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phoning the place has been like stepping into another dimension. You’ve been bombarded with words you’ve never heard in any discussion, except in Dr Stantz and Dr Spengler’s endless chatter about compendia and other mystical publications.

“Is your haunting an apparition, poltergeist, phantasm, wraith, banshee, demon, specter, tortured soul, or–”

“Excuse me but–”

“For your information, we do not summon dead family members.”

“I’m not calling for that–”

“Wait, hold, please. No Dr. Venkman I haven’t–”

And that was the end of the conversation. It left you with a strong puzzling sensation and a definitive confirmation of your aversion to discussions happening over the phone. The secretary never called back and you were secretly glad, leaving you time to summon all of your courage and go there directly. Which you did… eventually.

Funny how when you’re not searching for something, it comes to you from every angle. After discovering the strange choice of reconversion the doctors took, you were bombarded by advertisements, radio talks and covers of magazines. The men have managed to put all of New York in their pocket, and half if not as many ghosts in their traps. You’ve never been a firm believer in specters but Dr. Spengler and Dr. Stantz had talked extensively about them and their prototype to finally be able to catch one. You’ve been more interested in the physics aspect of it all; Dr. Spengler has been more than willing to explain and you’ve been more than willing to add your own theories.

You now stand in front of their headquarters, preparing to face them. And once again–

“Hey, it’s you!”

–it’s Dr. Stantz who nudges you in the right direction. The man smiles widely, face darkened by car oil and dirt, a crooked cigarette hanging from his lip. His uniform is equally as dirty, and he looks more like a mechanic than a ghost hunter… but no one has ever been a ghost hunter before so, what do you know?

“Hi, Dr. Stantz.” You smile. “It’s been a while.”

You can see he’s struggling to not pat your shoulder in a welcoming gesture. “Man, we thought we’d never get to see you again! Spengs’ gonna be so happy to see you!”

Somehow, you have trouble imagining Dr. Spengler overjoyed or overexcited. It’s not in his character.

“Come on!” He gestures for you to follow him. You’re barely inside that he has already strode through half the hall. “Sorry for the mess! It’s so hectic these days.”

“I saw the articles,” you say, taking in your surroundings.

At the front desk sits a fashionable lady whom you guess to be the secretary. She’s busy answering the phone, munching at her pencil and looking exhausted. She barely acknowledges your presence as you follow Dr. Stantz up the stairs.

The man never stopped talking. “Venkman is out right now; he wanted to check on one of our clients. The woman had blood dripping from her chimney, can you believe that?”

You clearly have trouble to. The blood part, not the seducing clients part.

Upstairs is as messy as the hall if not worse. It rivals the state of Weaver Hall. Dr. Stantz throws his extinguished cigarette in a nearby bin before grabbing a paper napkin to wipe his oily hands.

“Egon!”

Dr. Spengler appears from behind a desk, light on his forehead, and invested in organizing a large number of electric cables. “Ray, I found the problem with the Aura-Analyzer–”

He pauses when he sees you, which you can’t say that you did, blinded by the light of his lamp. “Hi,” you say, smiling while protecting your eyes.

“Oh,” he answers, turning it off. “Hello.”

The uneasy silence that follows throws you all the way back to your first meeting as if a month of socializing had suddenly vanished in the span of four tiny weeks.

“Do you have issues with a ghost?” he ends up asking, putting down his torch.

Your eyes widen in surprise, unsure of how to react. Dr. Stantz, however, lets out a strong laugh so you chuckle awkwardly to echo him. “No, no ghost.”

“It’s crazy that you came in today,” Dr. Stantz says, throwing away the dirtied napkins. “We have to improve the storage facility and we need to be able to boost the grid while saving as much power–”

As he speaks, he disappears behind a wall, the sound of running water overlapping his words. You stay silent, watching Dr. Spengler rearrange electric cables until his friend emerges from the bathroom, clean-faced.

“But anyway, Spengs can give you the big tour,” he declares, grinning. “I have a check-up to do at Tai Hong Lau! If we’re lucky, I’ll come back with dinner as well.”

This time, he gives you a clap on the shoulder before running to the stairs but turning back at the last minute. “You’re staying to eat with us right? The owner has the best Peking duck in town, I’m sure you’ll love it! See you later!”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with Dr. Spengler. The distance separating you makes the room feels even bigger. You clear your throat. “I see you were able to create your ghost trap after all.”

He nods. “The day we were… dismissed, we managed to have enough readings on our first supernatural encounter to finalize the prototype.”

“Incredible,” you praise before realizing how uncaring you might sound. “I mean, I’m sorry about the whole Dean Yaeger situation.”

Dr. Spengler shrugs, stepping out of the corner of the room he crammed himself in. “There’s nothing you could have done to change the outcome.”

You decide not to comment. There’s a certain tension behind his words that makes you think he might truly have been upset about the situation.

“So, what’s up with the… grid?” you ask, looking at the different types of equipment stacked in the room.

He does sound relieved by the change of subject. “The Containment System is the storage facility we use for paranormal entities. Lately, the growing number of stored entities has put a strain on the main chamber.” As he explains, he searches in a pile of paper, extracting a large sheet. “The simplest course of action would be to enlarge the room but in case of an exponential increase in psychokinetic energy, it wouldn’t be possible to expand indefinitely and I’m not even addressing the energy consumption problem.”

You saunter closer to him. Half of your brain is focused on how easily he slipped back into his rambling habits. Perhaps not all socialization has been lost, you muse delightfully.

“What’s the worst that could happen? An explosion?” you joke, hands on your hips.

There’s a moment of hesitation. You stare at him in disbelief. “Don’t tell me–”

“The system has a high-voltage laser grid.”

You gape at him for a second before clearing your throat. “Uh, you’ll have to tell me more I’m afraid.”

On the table, he puts down what seems to be the blueprint of the storage chamber. You study it from the side.

“PKE bounds together the negatively charged particles composing a ghost. Our two laser grids…“ He ignores your bewildered expression. “…prevent the entities from escaping.”

He continues, “But we’re completely dependent on the city’s power grid.”

“No redundancies?” you ask, starting to see the problem.

He shakes his head. “We had no way to generate our own power supply when we moved in – we still don’t, and we weren’t planning on a strong surge in PKE.” There’s a tremor at the corner of his eye, perhaps from tiredness. “It makes us vulnerable in case of a power outage.”

It all sounds very hazardous. “I’m surprised you still haven’t had Public Services knocking at your door, with you powering high-voltage grids and…” You throw another look at the blueprint. “…a penning trap of this size.”

Dr. Spengler looks up solemnly. “We have been drawing attention.”

That’s one way to put it, you think. “Won’t you also have problems with your… residents in there?”

“It’s complicated to assess the level of ionization inside the chamber,” he explains, lost in his musings. “I do daily samplings to monitor psychokinetic energy but it’s a time-consuming process and as minimum as it is, there’s still a risk of slippage. Stronger entities could attack the grid from the inside, despite the threat of–”

He comes to a sudden stop. “...perhaps I can just show you. If you’re willing to.”

Blinking away the feeling that is suspiciously looking like infatuation, you smile, trying to convey what you hope is a convincing agreement. “Of course.”

Dr. Spengler nods, putting away the scheme of the Containment System as you stare, unable to stop yourself. Funny how history repeats itself, you think, already picturing how you’re going to neglect your work just to hear him talk more. You can’t bring yourself to care the right amount. The concretization of it all – this whole Ghostbusters thing – is exhilarating. It was fascinating when it was mere speculations but now it’s all real. Right here, in an old firehouse in the middle of New York, are new forms of life; new not in age but in terms of discovery. Your work has always been focused on the future, so this is just another step toward it. It’s – funnily enough, all thanks to the past: the dead, the undead and the spiritual.

“Say, Dr. Spengler.” He turns back. “Have you been able to learn more about that psychokinetic energy?”

“Ghost energy can take various forms. I don’t have a clear idea of what it could be yet.” He frowns. “Which makes the improvement of the unit even more complex.”

“If you and Dr. Stantz are ok with the idea,” you say, heart beating faster. “I’d like to study this matter further. Apart from the effect on the valences, there could be laser-nuclei reactions that are worth looking into, as well as interactions between the entities themselves. Perhaps, it’s too soon to theorize about potential ‘ghost particles’ though...”

Dr. Spengler looks pensive for a minute, and you’re afraid he’ll chastity you – gently, but he just walks closer, extending an arm. “I’ll show you the unit, and we can talk about a new schematic.”

The ‘we’ is a heartwarming promise. “Lead the way, Dr. Spengler.”

As you approach the stairs, he has a small smile on his face. “Egon, please.”

You’ll have to tell him about his stuff at your place someday.

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters reader insert #non binary reader

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