#intoxication: masterpost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

manicpixiefelix · 4 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 1.

Summary: It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around. You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader with Felix, Venetia, and implied Farleigh in this chapter. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: Smut (M & F Receiving (not reader)), discussions of gender set in 2003 (no slurs tho). Degrading language (reader is referred to as as dog)

A/N: 3698 words. HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME!! Im so excited for this, this first chapter is essentially setting up the reader's life and dynamic with Felix and the Cattons. There's some Venetia/Reader and implied Farleigh/Reader but its the casual kind of sexuality they all share in the movie, yanno? Please let me know what you think, i LOve feedback!

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy

----

You can't quite remember a time where your world didn't revolve around Felix Catton. He's rather like that; magnetic. His very aura is intoxicating, suffocating, until they're breathless and all but gasping his praises. You've seen it happen countless times since you'd first met him all those years ago.

Felix is affectionate and tactile, always yearning for contact with those around him like he has no idea how it looks from the outside. His hand around your shoulders, your waist, a kiss on your cheek, offering you a bump of coke from the back of his hand - you'd been too young when it has started for anything to seem too far when you're older. It felt only natural that you'd learned in due course the sensation of his mouth and hands on every inch of your body, just as you could name every part of him from the touch of your lips alone. Or Farleigh. Or Venetia. It was one of the many things that seemed far too normal growing up in such an insular, secluded environment. But everyone knew you were Felix's, even if he decided to share you on occasion.

Summers by the lake and Winters by the fire, Saltburn was where you found yourself when you found Felix to be your home. Months long sleepovers, and of all one hundred and seventy nine rooms, you share a bed with Felix most nights. Innocent children huddled for comfort, sharing dreams and laughter and hope for the future; adolescents turn to teenagers, and though the bed sharing continues, it does not remain so innocent.

And you are the only one to taste his hesitation the first time he ever kisses you, the only one to hear him breathless with surprised delight the first time you take his cock in your mouth since he's bored and wonders what everyone's going on about.

"What if I'm shit at it?"

"Do you want practice?"

The script is more of a formality when you're a few years into high school and both expecting to start screwing around.

Nervous, inexperienced touches easily became familiar, intimate gestures.

Its not something you talk about at school or in public, the people in your lives know you're close, but couldn't reasonably gauge the full extent beyond some schoolyard rumours... Which are technically true. But you both downplay it to most of the world. Perhaps it's about keeping up the appearance of availability; less chances to hook up with other people if they all assume you're taken.

A lot of your school life is about keeping up appearances, but that comes with the territory of being a well-to-do child of a wealthy family. At least you don't have to weather it alone.

With the amount of money your families are throwing at the schools you attend, of course you've forgotten more love showings of Shakespeare's comedies and dramas and tragedies than most students around the nation have even heard of, good only for how Felix's friend group - and you always amongst them - make fun of some of the truly awful lines.

Still, there are moments when the pretense drops. You catch each other holding reverence for the way the world speaks about love -

"You do impeach your modesty too much -" Felix is ahead of you in the maze, looking for a break from his family after Elspeth had insisted upon you all taking a trip to see A Midsummer Night's Dream in the city.

"What?" You laughed; it was getting dark, the solar fairy lights were beginning to glow amongst the imposing walls of leaves. Felix grins over his shoulder at you.

"Like in the play, remember? Near the start, Demetrius and one of the girls; you do impeach your modesty too much to leave the city and commit yourself into the hands of one that loves you not."

"Yeah but you love me, though," you laugh, and quicken your pace to catch his hand. You find yourself remembering the scene with a smile, but as the maze opens up ahead to the centre clearing, Felix slows. Pulling you close, he walks you to the wall of the maze, the strong branches and glossy leaves against your back.

"To trust the opportunity of the night, and the- the," his expression is playfully annoyed as he searches for the line.

"Something about it being deserted?" You supplied with little more than a murmur, thrill running down your spine as his body is warm, pressed against yours.

"Fuck, thanks, yeah," he breaks character for a moment with a huff of laughter, warm affection in his eyes, before that hungry, wanting look passes over him again, "to trust the opportunity of the night, and the ill counsel of a desert place with the rich worth of your virginity."

"The rich worth of my virginity?" You can't help but giggle, and Felix again breaks, if only to roll his eyes. As he pulls back, however, you wrap an arm around him, softly apologising, promising to play along. Again, he feeds you the line, and this time you lean into it, into the moment, into the intensity in his eyes. There's so much barely concealed want in his gaze, it overwhelms you, all you can think to do is kiss him.

"Your virtue is my privilege," you gasp amidst frantic kisses, wrapping your arms around him, trying desperately to remember the rest of the lines you know that you'd also been taken with in the theatre. Pulling back for just a second, you see him grinning when you take his face in your hands, "it is not night when I do see your face, therefore - something something - not night." The two of you erupt back into laughter before his mouth finds yours again, and the two of you are wrapped up in each other, blindly stumbling towards the solid statue you both know is there.

"Nor doth this wood," you find your voice again when Felix is leaning against the statue and you're making quick work of his undoing belt, "lack worlds of company, for you -" and with his belt undone, the two of you pause, taking stock of the moment. Both breathing heavily, you lean in and give him a languid kiss, your fingers looped into the waistband of his nice trousers, "for you," you murmur with a grin, lips inches from his, "in my respect, are all the world."

These are the lines that you knew without hesitation, the lines burned into your heart as you'd heard them uttered, and felt them resonate even back in the theatre. You grin, wondering if he'd wanted to hear them more than you'd longed to say them. As you kiss down his jaw, lips on his throat with intent to leave a bruising hickey, you free his cock, working your hand up and down his length.

"The how can it be said that I am alone," you kiss the hickey as it begins to bloom dark against his perfect throat, and sink to your knees before him, heart practically bursting to see the way he looks at you in this moment, all love and lust and appreciation for what you're about to do, "when all the world is here to look upon me?"

You watch others come and go from his life, watch him fuck around with other pretty elites, and had your fair share of flings too. The two of you gossip and brag to one another about your conquests, tease each other about terrible lays, or who the other has their eyes on next. There's never jealousy; as long as the other is happy, neither of you is concerned. After all, in the end, you always come back to one another.

Naturally Felix who you come out to first, the two of you sharing a smoke while playing cards by the window of his high school dorm room. Its after midnight, you should definitely be back in your own room, but the two of you have never really adhered to those rules, and the heads of your respective dorms stopped caring years ago. At the time you don't exactly have the right words to explain, but you ask him -

"Hey, you know you're a guy, right?"

He doesn't frown, but his nose gives this little scrunch as he's considering your words and his cards.

"Haven't put much thought into it, but yeah," he rearranges his cards for a moment before looking up at you with those gorgeous, brown eyes full of curiosity, "why?"

"I dunno," you shrugged briefly, as if you hadn't been struggling with for what's felt like months, "remember all those bars in France last summer?"

"Flashes of it," Felix smirks momentarily, "I'm still not sure if I believe Farleigh that he won our bet, but I suppose I'll have to trust him."

"With the amount of free drinks he was getting I'm surprised he even remembers properly," you can't help but laugh, though the moment is short-lived.

"What about it?" Felix finally prompts. For a long moment you're quiet, and the two of you finish up the round of cards.

"You know how we kept going to those underground gay bars because they didn't ask us for ID?"

"Again, vaguely."

"Some of them had these pictures on the walls of like, gays, and lesbians, and ladies with cocks, and men with tits, or big scars on their chests and bushes, and they all... They all looked really happy in those photos," as you spoke, unable to look at him, only watching his hands as he shuffled the deck. You know he's frowning, trying to follow along, but he's also not interrupting you, giving you space in what feels like an important moment, "I think I'm kind of like that."

A moment passes between you two.

"I know," Felix finally says, and you look up, surprised.

"You know?"

"We're all like that, aren't we? You, me, Farleigh, Venetia - mum keeps reminding us that she was a lesbian whenever it's even slightly relevant -" he begins to smile fondly but your surprise turns back to concern as you begin to shake your head.

"No, not like that, Fi," you sigh, and reach for the cigarette box as he begins to deal, "I don't think I fit the boy-girl thing." Once again the quiet lapses out as the lighter sparks to life. You inhale a lung full of smoke, looking out of the window to the star-filled sky, "I'm not a guy with a bush or a girl with a dick, I'm not..." You shrugged, looking at him, "I dunno what I am."

Once the cards are dealt, he finally looks at you, tips his head in that way he does when he's trying to figure something out.

"You're my best mate." He says it so simply, the faintest smile beginning to grace his lips, "you don't have to be anything if you don't want to be."

You don't realise how anxious you were about this moment until your breath comes out as a stuttering exhalation.

"Yeah?" You swallow hard, voice surprisingly weak and hopeful in the same moment, "you don't mind?"

"Kind of seems like a shit thing for me to have any strong feelings about."

"But you've known me as I am for so long -"

"Exactly; I love you, guy-girl or anything, doesn't change you," this is the moment, you realise, that you'd do absolutely anything for the boy in front of you.

"I love you too, Fi."

As he reaches across the small space for the cigarette, you lean in and kiss him before you hand it over; he's grinning as he kisses you.

It only takes a week for you to tell him about the name you'd settled on.

"I think I'm going to start going by Y/N," in the library, you, Felix, and Farleigh are getting very little work done when you bring it up.

"Changing your name?" Farleigh asks, eyebrows raised as he looks up from the same page of Heart of Darkness that he'd been reading for half an hour. You glance to Felix briefly, but he simply gives an encouraging nod to his cousin, and you, once more with your heartbeat racing, explain your relatively new identity change.

"So do we use he-she when we talk about you now?" Farleigh asks, voice genuinely confused rather than malicious. At this you give pause, you hadn't much thought about it; of course people gossiped about you, but you hadn't realised that if you were to be going forth with your new identity, you'd have to ask people to change the very language they used about you.

"I don't think so; I'm not he or she, and he-she is a bit much," you ponder, "I guess just them?"

"Hey did you hear about Y/N?" Felix stage-whispered to Farleigh, grinning. His cousin leaned in, keeping up with the bit and testing out your new name and pronouns seamlessly.

"No, what did they do?" He gasped. All you could do was chuckle, ducking your head to hide how wide you were smiling at how right it all sounded, how right it all felt to hear about yourself. With a firm nod, Farleigh sits back up, "okay, yeah, I can get with it. Y/N," he says decisively.

"Y/N does rather suit you," Felix agreed.

As you begin to come out to the rest of your friends and the school as a whole, you're surprised at how smoothly the transition occurs. You expected more resistance, more name calling, more bullying of any kind; of course there's the occasional bit of harrassment, and several people in the halls turn an unkind eye upon you, but it's been far easier than you'd expected.

Its only when you find Farleigh with a black eye that you learn that he and Felix have been getting into fights with people who've been talking shit behind your back. Of course you beg them to stop, insist they shouldn't be getting hurt on your behalf, least of all about this, but Felix smiles with a split lip.

"As if I'm going to let them get away with it."

Historically, Felix's girlfriends never seem to like you at first. Which they definitely shouldn't; it took him a few girls to remember that he shouldn't let them see him touching you so casually the way he does, more intimate with you without even thinking about it than he often was with them. It moves on, he gives them a warm smile and a teasing tone as he tells them not to be jealous-

"They're not -" a threat, you wonder as he gestures to you with a wide, open hand and smile to match, and proceeds to surprise you both, "a girl." The girl on his arm seems shocked for a minute, but everything about her eases. Your best friend, despite what people may think, is neither a liar nor an idiot. He knows what people think of him, what people assume about him and about you when they assume things one way or there other about him. The girls who he traditionally picked up liked to put him in little pigeon hole of heterosexuality, and though it wasn't true, the to correct them in instances such as that would probably harm the poor, pretty girls. Or at the very least, do nothing to quell their pretty rightful paranoia.

Because when the girl leaves his dorm before curfew that night, you slink up to his door and lean against it with the most pleased and endeared smile. As you always do.

"What?" Every time he's bashful, as if he has no idea what he's doing.

"Just love you is all, man," you tell him, grinning from ear to ear as you close the door behind you.

"Love you too, you know that," he tries to play it off, but is obviously hiding his ever-growing smile.

As you descend upon him, sitting cross legged on the bed - "I love you, I love you, I love you, Fi," peppering his face with kisses as he actually giggles and laughs and pulls you close - you wonder if you shouldn't be doing this since he has a new girlfriend. Except if he wanted you to stop, you knew he had no qualms asking you to.

He's always been the best about your identity, so you're not sure why it always hits you with a rush of euphoria when you hear him talk about you like that. Maybe it's the way confirms exactly what you're not to the world, while knowing that everything you are to him is a secret he holds precious and close to his heart.

When you get to Saltburn for the Winter, as you had for any major breaks from school as your parents were thrilled to be seeing as little of you as necessary, Duncan greets you at the door as he always does -

"Captain Y/N."

And Felix comes bounding down the red stairs, having overheard, and asking if Captain was alright, while you were overwhelmed with love at the gesture. Apparently Duncan's only reservation about the title was that it was usually reserved for military personnel, and he was something of a stickler for the rules. Still, when you thank him for referring to you as such, he grants you one of his rare smiles.

Everyone has accepted the change before you'd even arrived, and though his mother and father did occasionally slip up, they caught themselves before even yourself or Felix had a chance to correct them. Elspeth always made a show of apologising and correcting herself. After one such instance, all of you wine-drunk after dinner and squashed on several sofas together to watch some rom-com, Venetia whispers to you where she's in your lap that Felix had spent several phone calls over the past semester explaining the situation to the family, even making sure to remind everyone in the days before you'd arrives.

"He really does love you," she murmurs, "doesn't he?" The glow of the television haloed her recently bleached hair in light as her face hovered inches for yours. Out of the corner of your eye you see Felix wearing an amused smile and pointedly not looking at you. When Venetia leans in, giggling with her pupils blown wide, you kiss her back, and feel Felix put a hand on your thigh.

"Not during the movie," Elspeth says briskly. Farleigh snorts with amusement from her other side and Venetia breaks the kiss with a sharp little laugh. Still, she curls up against you now, with your arm around her, and Felix rubs circles against your thigh, hand not moving for the remainder of the film.

At Saltburn, your room was often more of a formality; the one attached to Felix's, divided only by a bathroom. Most nights were shared in another's bed, even if nothing sexual happened. Venetia especially liked these sleepover, liked how you'd be at her door if she merely implied she wanted your company. She'd invite you into her bathroom to simply talk while she bathed, neither of you bothered by the casual nudity. She'd put on a CD and sometimes a robe, and you'd brush and braid her hair; she'd talk and you'd listen, until she fell asleep in your arms. Venetia craved connection, and like with Felix, you were happy to oblige her.

"You're a good dog," she'd once murmured, your head between her thighs, "that's why he lets you fuck me." When you look up at her through your lashes, mouth still on her cunt, tounge going still on her clit, she's looking back, devilish smile on her face, "do you think about him when you fuck me?"

You lean back just a little, and carefully slide two fingers into her; Venetia's head falls back as she sighs gently.

"He doesn't have a cunt, Ven," you tell her bluntly, which of course makes her laugh until she's moaning with your fingers curling inside of her.

"Good dog," she stutters out.

"He wants you to be happy, and I can do that."

"My brother doesn't like sharing his toys," she whimpers faintly.

"I'm not a toy."

"Suppose I'll just - ah~" your thumb finds her clit, and you gently bite at her thigh, "have to enjoy you while he lets me, then."

In these quiet, intimate moments, sexual or not, Farleigh and Venetia both take to calling you 'good dog' as a term of endearment. Anyone else would probably be put off by it, but it begins to warm something in your chest; loyal and loving, the kind of creature you keep around. Felix, however, scowls when he learns about it.

"It's mean."

"I think it's sweet," you tell him with a smile, curling up against him on a sofa on one of the many balconies. Felix had been reading while you'd been napping against him when Venetia had appeared and cooed at the sight.

"They think it's sweet!" Venetia echoed with a pleased grin, sitting on the lounge chair across from you both.

"They're not a dog, they're my friend -" Felix had tried to argue.

"Man's best friend," Venetia had nodded.

"Oh piss off, Ven," Felix had huffed. Venetia had obligingly swanned back into the house while you stifled your laughter against his chest. When it's just the two of you, his voice turns soft, "you know I don't think of you like that."

"It's nothing, Fi, everyone knows you're my favourite is all."

"But you're not a dog."

You look up at him in all his glory, golden in the sunset and looking like a dream. You want to smooth the concern, the righteous anger from his brow, kiss the faint downturned edge of his perfect lips, do everything in your power to make sure he never worries again. No matter who or what you are, you are his. His best friend, his confidant, his shoulder to cry on, his partner in crime, his right hand, his, his, his.

All you can give him in this moment is your gentle voice full of absolute love;

"What do you want me to be, Fi?"

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton x you #venetia catton imagine #manicpixieart #head heart hand fic

1K notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 3 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 4 - Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is reader and Eloise's farewell to Paris. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Paris, September 1939

The next three days are a blur, fleeting but at once memorable, lived on borrowed time.

Knowing the inevitable is happening - that you will need to leave Paris soon - you give notice at work; so sad to have only been there for a matter of weeks rather than the planned months. On a brighter note, however, you are able to spend the days with Benedict, showing him all you have learned about art in the city in the short time you have had. Many a happy hour is spent in galleries. Both of you tripping over your words to share what you know about the art and the artists in a breathless, excited fashion. Kindred spirits in your appreciation of the works. Sometimes lost in a reverie as you stand in front of a canvas as large as your entire living room, the scale and complexity literally dumbfounding.

And, of course, a little of your heart is stolen with each moment together - the first person you have ever met who truly seems as enthused as you about the subject matter. That it's all wrapped up in that handsome face adds more complexity and confusion. You can't deny the skip in your pulse when he looks at you, weighted, a touch of reverence, so focused as you speak passionately on the subject you love. And you are certain your face is a picture of devotion as he waxes lyrical, too. You know you are getting swept up into the almost cliched romance of it all - the city of love, a handsome stranger, the no doubt impending invasion giving a sense of urgency and finality to every hour- it's a powder keg that feels dangerous as it is intoxicating.

—

Early evening of the second day, as you wander back from the Louvre, you pass by the offices of the cruise company you came from America with.

“Oh! I should speak to them about swapping my return ticket,” you comment, seeing the men standing outside in the smart red livery of the company, speaking in English to crowds of people inquiring about escaping France.

“See if you can move it to the day after tomorrow,” Benedict counsels. “That is the day we are due to set sail. We can all go to the coast together on the train.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, realising it will be lovely to have someone to wave farewell to, even if there is a little stab in your chest at the idea you may never see Benedict again. Or, of course, darling Eloise.

So, a couple of hours later, after an early dinner, you are back on this same street, your ticket in hand, waiting patiently to speak to one of the young men in uniform.

“Mademoiselle?” he beckons you forward.

“Good evening. I have a ticket to New York for eleven months, hence, 12th August 1940. I am hoping I can swap to a sailing in a few days? Ideally, the day after tomorrow?”

The men exchange glances, and there seems to be a swirl of excitement as they crowd around you.

“A real ticket?” one of them pipes up, an excitement in their tone which strikes you as rather odd.

With a nod, you hand it over, and they all seem to confer, then grab a pad of tickets and transfer some details.

“Not a problem at all, Mademoiselle. Here, this is for a sailing two days hence. Thank you for travelling with us!”

They seem inordinately pleased as you walk away clutching your new ticket, a mix of emotions swirling. The finality of your time in Paris suddenly so real, the date on the newly issued ticket, ink still drying, sinking in.

—

When you push open the door to your apartment, still with a tinge of melancholy, you are taken aback by the whirlwind you encounter.

“How did I amass this many mugs?” Eloise decries, standing amidst a complete bomb of possessions scattered all over the surfaces of your apartment.

“Well, you can't take them all home,’ Benedict points out wearily, “you have your case, and that trunk there, Eloise, and that is all.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Well aware of that brother…” holding a blue and red mug in each hand, assessing which she likes more.

“I suppose I'm lucky I've only been here a matter of weeks,” you pipe up as they both turn to look at you, Benedict shooting you a lopsided grin as Eloise barges forward and loops your arm in hers, dragging you across the room.

“Just the person I need!” she declares. “Help me! What mug screams, ‘I had a life in Paris once, and it was amazing’?” She gestures to the array of drinking vessels she has pulled out to the cupboard.

You ponder the question with a thoughtful pout. “Why not just leave them all for the next tenant? I'm sure Solene would appreciate the ability to rent out the apartment with kitchen supplies?” you try to be diplomatic.

“Yes, I know that,” Eloise sighs, “there were mugs when I got here. That, of course, got mysteriously broken after a few days, which is a blessing as they were all hideous…”

“You broke some perfectly good mugs?” Benedict frowns disapprovingly.

“Do you live here?” she shoots back pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “I am only seeking the counsel of those who live here… not a squatter,” she sniffs.

You share a look with Benedict - yours contrite, his bemused - as if this is just another day with Eloise. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.

“If I had to choose one…” you point to the cherry red earthenware mug that looks French in a way you can’t quantify; it just does.

“You’re right as always,” Eloise grins, seizing it. “Much better help than that one,” she adds, sticking her tongue out at Benedict as she wraps the chosen item in yesterday's newspaper.

“Packing going well?” you breeze, your eye again meeting Benedict’s as he pulls a face that makes you giggle hard.

“You try cramming nine months of freedom into a teeny trunk,” Eloise grumbles, heading towards her bedroom.

“I am just taking my clothes…” you admit. You only have a few additional items you purchased since you arrived in Paris that should all fit if you pack smart enough.

“That’s yours, by the way…” Eloise gestures to Benedict’s painting on the wall before she disappears out of sight. “I have no room for it, and it seems strange to carry a picture of a house I'm headed to…” she calls out down the corridor.

“I would love it…” you inhale, looking at the artist imploringly as if somehow you need his permission.

“Y-you want it?” Hesitant, disbelieving almost.

“If you will permit me,” you confess, clasping a hand over your heart.

“It is yours,” he replies, his face a mixture of pleasant surprise and humble acceptance.

You rush forward and take the painting off the wall, reverentially cradling it between your hands.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, a little fizz in your stomach at the idea he wants you to have it. Like you will always have a piece of him with you once you are apart.

“I can paint you others...” he offers quickly, in a rush of exhaled breath. “Whatever you want…”

Something in the tumbling sincerity of his words has your heart beating fast.

“I can think of nothing more appealing than a wall full of your works…” you confess while trying not to think that room would be thousands of miles away.

He blushes adorably, casting his eyes down until suddenly, his head jerks up again. “Wait I…I have something I want to give you, actually,” He scurries across the room and gathers a sketchbook. “I'm sorry it's not framed, but here…”

He carefully tears out the page from his pad. And your heart stops.

It's you from two days ago. Sitting on a bench overlooking the Seine, the Eiffel Tower over your shoulder as you read a book. You wondered what he was doing sitting a few feet away that day as you took a lunch break. Now you know. It's a perfect pencil rendering of the scene, each sketched line a wondrous recreation of that sun-soaked afternoon.

“Benedict….” all other words fail.

“I want you to have it,” he murmurs, “your time in Paris may have been unexpectedly brief, but you deserve a memento of the happiness you found here, however fleeting it had to be.”

Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes; you want to rush to him, to throw your arms around him, thank him profusely, but you are scared to. Scared that in the moment you would get carried away, press your lips to his…

“Thank you...” is all you can struggle out, inadequate and awkward.

“De rein…” Again, that perfect accent has you practically swaying

But the spell is broken when Eloise reappears, complaining loudly about the size of her trunk, and part of you is grateful for it. Guilt floods your being as you think how bad of a person you must be to covet your best friend’s brother when you have a fiance back home. One you will, in fact, likely see in a matter of days now… tamping down that disquiet, you excuse yourself to your room, placing your ticket on the mantel and refusing to look at it as you pick up a book to read.

—

Solene’s hug is so tight you feel like she is crushing your ribs. Or perhaps it's that you feel a little too fragile today.

“I shall miss you, ma cherie,” she mumbles into your hair before pulling back and seizing your jaw. “You will come back when this is all over, oui?”

“Oui,” you agree, knowing it’s more of a wish than a promise.

Once again, she pulls you in for a tight hug before turning to Eloise and clinging to her just the same, lingering longer.

“Souviens-toi, ma sœur,” she reminds Eloise, having told you the previous night that her sister lives just outside the port city of Le Havre should you need a place to stay for any reason.

It's two days later, the day of your departure, and your eyes ping around the now-tidy apartment, only furniture left where once there was a jumble of life. It looks much less like home, making handing over your key a little less painful. One final wistful glance at the Eiffel Tower out of the window is all you can manage before picking up your case and walking out, scared to look back.

Benedict is loitering in the corridor outside and shoots you a sympathetic glance as you exit, eyes glassy.

“You will return,” he offers solemnly, even as you both know it's just a platitude, before turning his attention to the apartment door. “Hurry up, Eloise, we need to get to the train…” he calls.

You start to move towards the sweeping staircase, preferring a long amble down its winding loop than the lift, your case feeling much heavier than when you arrived mere weeks ago…

—

You watch the puffs of steam float past the window as the train picks up pace, pulling out of Gare Saint-Lazare. Perhaps aptly, it begins raining soon after, streaks of water lashing the glass as you rest your head back into the seat.

“I can't bear to look at it,” Eloise sighs, closing her eyes so as not to see Paris slipping away.

You reach over the table between you and grasp her hand, and her eyes open to give you a nod of thanks before closing again.

“Why do you have to be American?” she whines. “I would do anything to have you come to England. We could get a little place together in London…” She winds her feet around yours like a vine, needing the connection in your last few hours together.

“If only…” you agree, a weight akin to a heavy boulder settling in your stomach at the idea you will soon be back on Long Island, a world that seems so…. staid to you now.

Benedict shoots you a sympathetic look across from his seat next to Eloise on the aisle but says nothing, going back to reading his book as it's your turn to sigh, the city now a blur outside the window as you speed towards the end of your time in France.

–

Half an hour later, Eloise is sleeping, her head lolling lightly on the glass with the gentle rocking motion of the train, now following the meander of the Seine just outside Poissy.

“She didn't sleep well last night,” Benedict observes, looking up from his book and following your line of sight. “I don't think she wanted her last night in Paris to ever end.”.

His words take you back to just hours ago, a rousing evening in your favourite local bistro filled with wine, camaraderie and song. Benedict didn't accompany you and Eloise, preferring to stay home and read, he said, but part of you wishes he was there to help commiserate and toast your final night chez Paris.

“You should have come out,” you opine with a slight pout, which makes him chuckle.

“It's not me who had to have the fitting farewell,” he points out with a sympathetic smile.

“Still, it would have been nice if you were there…” The idle thought is out of your lips before you can think about how that might sound, and you know you are blushing when his mouth opens a fraction in surprise, a dot of colour on his cheeks, too.

“I'm sure you still had a wonderful time,” he placates demurely.

You smile and nod, feeling a little twinge in your ankle from all the dancing you have done.

“Are you excited?” he asks, changing the subject.

You frown. “Why would I be excited to leave Paris?”

To be reunited with your fiance?” he answers slowly, a look of puzzlement on his face that it had not occurred to you.

“Oh…” you pause, your mind recalling Stanley’s smile, although somehow it seems faded now, like an out-of-focus photograph, as if you cannot wholly remember it now. “I… I suppose…”

His face is a picture of concern again. “You do not sound certain…” he hedges.

“I am not, to be honest,” you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time today. “These few weeks have… shown me so much of the world,” you explain, “I have had so many novel experiences, met so many wonderful new people…” you can't help but let your gaze meet his as you say it. “It makes my life before seem… small? Parochial?” you are clutching for the right words as his hazy eyes track your every facial move.

“Like an old shoe that used to be comfortable but now suddenly feels too tight?” he offers a metaphor that is so apt you can't help but nod.

“Exactly!’ you agree, enthusiastically waving your hand.

There is a quiet moment where your eyes meet again, a tingle over your skin, a pulse of energy so enlivening.

“Do you feel there is perhaps something out there better for you?” his ask feels loaded, a quiet murmur that carries so much hidden meaning but is nearly lost in the rhythmic sound of the train clattering over the tracks. So much so you could likely pretend you didn't hear, but you don't.

“I just might…” you answer softly, even as you are unable to look away. Something about this man makes you daring, unwilling to do anything but be bold.

Long, elegant fingers reach out over the table and are about to brush the back of your hand when Eloise suddenly startles awake between you. His hand disappears rapidly, pulling back as if burned. All you can concentrate on is the ashy taste of regret at your best friend’s timing.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

164 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 4 months

Text

do you need me?

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: the one where emily's death takes a toll on you. based on the prompt “don't come over, I can handle it.” from this prompt list.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 3.5K

warnings/content: mentions of skipping meals; grief; mourning the loss of a friend; jemily (implied); blood; non-graphic descriptions of violence; character death (mentioned/not the MCs); addiction; intoxication; survivor's guilt; crying; unhealthy coping mechanisms; this is... heavy, be aware.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!! I wish that we all have an amazing 2024. here's the blurb you voted for. hurt/comfort at its best <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

would you like to enter my taglist?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ it did not kill me and it did not make me stronger. it simply was and always will be scorched upon my heart. ❞

— d.j

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You don't know who took Emily's death the hardest. Pain is not something that can be measured or compared, people deal with it in different ways. Some are quieter in their grieving, others are loud. And although each one of your teammates knows how to compartmentalize their feelings, there was a fog in their eyes, a heaviness in their shoulders more than usual. Things you could relate well after all that has happened. You wish you didn't. You wished all of that was just a strange and far-off memory.

JJ was different — you noticed it during one of your night outs.

Penelope had forced everyone to hang out after a case, to relax. It had been a few months after what happened to Emily and the team was still... sore. Rightfully so.

Hotch and Rossi left earlier, leaving you, Derek, Spencer, Penelope and JJ at the bar. The only ones who weren't intoxicated were you and Spencer. You were pretty sure the conversation Penelope and Derek were having in their own little world was not PG-13, anyway.

“Do you think she's alright?”

Spencer asked, casting a look towards JJ. It's been half an hour she was nursing a glass of water — you had purposely brought her this one since she'd lost count of her shots —, staring at it with her stare unfocused.

“She will be.” You had said and when he told you he was leaving, you asked if he wanted a ride home. You hadn't drank anything but orange juice. He refused it, hugged you and, before he left, he demanded that you'd let him know once you got home.

You ended up being JJ's designated driver that night.

It was when you first saw a crack through the mask she had put on. Emily and JJ shared a deep bond. You knew their friendship wasn't just friendship, even before Emily had revealed to you that she had feelings for the blonde a while back. When Emily was gone, you saw how JJ took it hard. Not that everyone else didn't as well, but the love from each person in the team carried for Emily was different from the love JJ had for her.

Between the gibberish she was mumbling in the passenger seat of your car, she let escape a faint “I miss her”. Her voice cracked and your heart ached.

“D’ you think...” She muttered as you were helping her into her bed. “D'you think she miss— a hiccup — misses us?”

You refrained from saying that dead people cannot miss anything. Instead, you waited for her to fall asleep, placed a cup of water and aspirin on her bedside table before leaving her apartment.

She pretended nothing happened in the next day and you did the same.

You thought JJ had it worst, until Spencer showed up at your door at 3 a.m craving for something he hadn't touched in three years.

Again, pain is not comparable. One does not hurts more than another; people deal with their hardships in life differently, even if they have gone through the same life-changing event.

Some let it show, others just know how to hide it better. You no longer knew if you were the former or the latter through the eyes of your friends.

The current case you were working on had rendered you mentally exhausted. A victim had been taken hostage and for two days you tried to negotiate with the unsub, but to no avail. You almost had it. Almost. When you thought you had succeeded in releasing the woman, she was shot right in front of you.

She died in your arms and there was nothing that you could have done to prevent.

Or was there?

There was nothing that you could have done. You have heard that before. Countless of times. People tried to inject that into your head as a way to make you feel better. And they have their best intentions, you do not doubt it. But it was no use if you couldn't bring yourself to believe these words.

This was just one of those days, when you didn't know how to cope with that overbearing sadness that crippled your mind.

There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have done. There was nothing that you could have—

“Hey.”

You flinched, startled at the voice. As you came back to reality, Spencer turned up in front of you.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” His face twitched into a grimace.

You cleared your throat, placing your stuff in your bag. You were so distracted that you didn't realise you had been holding the bloodied shirt you were wearing in the morning; you shoved it inside carelessly. I'm gonna burn it.

“You didn't,” you said. “What's up? I thought you had left already.”

Spencer leaned on the door, fingers playing with the strap of his satchel as he waited for you to leave the room. He followed you to the corridor, an unspoken silence that said a million things. His fidgety hands weren't just mindlessly stimming, he was nervous.

Everyone else seemed to have left, meaning the bullpen was fairly empty. You wondered how long you stayed frozen reminiscing as the minutes went by.

“I was waiting for you.” He responded as soon as the elevator doors closed.

You turned to him with widened eyes. “Why? I'm sorry I kept you waiting—”

Spencer quickly waved you off, “It's alright.” He gave you a soft smile. The one you felt warm inside. “I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Oh.

“Of course I am.” You replied and you really hoped the tight smile you gave him was convincing enough for him to not question further. You weren't sure if you'd be able to not crumble down completely if he asked again.

“Are you sure?”

Damn, Spencer.

Yes, everything is good. I just need to get home, take a shower and have a good night sleep without interruptions.

Everything is good.

You don't know how many times you repeated that until he walked alongside you to the parking lot.

Arriving home was all that you needed to let your armour aside. God you were so tired. You didn't even reach your bedroom before the tears came like a waterfall. Falling into your couch, with no strength to stand, you finally stopped fighting against the sadness and let it lead you for the time being.

It's hard trying to be strong all the time, isn't it? Not admitting you need someone to be there for you because you only know how to be there for people. You tell them it's going to be okay. You let them be vulnerable. You say it's okay to not be okay.

Why can't you treat yourself the same way you treat the people around you?

You count every raindrop falling down your window, it helps you focus on reality. It was grounding and a few minutes later you have stopped sobbing your heart out.

It was raining hard outside. When you open the window, the cold slips right in and you stay there, enjoying the wind pushing your hair back.

You dial a familiar number tonight. And you don't hang up after two rings. You think about doing it in the fourth, but the person picks up, apologizing before they say hello.

It actually makes your lips twitch slightly. You don't smile, but you feel like doing it after crying so hard.

“Spencer.” You say through the phone interrupting his incessant apologies for taking too long to answer, your brows creasing after you hear how strange your voice is. “You don't have to apologize. I was the one who called you at one a.m. Why are you even awake?”

“I was reading. Lost track of time. I— have you been crying?” Well, shit. Too much for thinking he wouldn't notice through the phone.

“Why do you ask?” You ask rather pathetically. Why did you call him? Why did you bother Spencer at one a.m when he could be sleeping? You should feel sorry for yourself. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called—”

“I was thinking about you.”

Your breath hitches. You close the window and sit back on the floor and you feel like crying again, you don't know why. Maybe it's his voice. Maybe it's the fact that he makes you feel everything that you're allowed to feel.

He takes your silence as his cue to continue. “I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” he trails off as if he's uncertain about what he will say. “I remembered you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Spencer could take pride in saying he knew you better than anyone else.

He recognised the sound of your voice was different when your were excited about a particular topic and when you were discussing a case at work. He knew you brushed your hair behind your ear when you felt shy, but the same action could happen when you were uncomfortable. It heavily depended on the situation.

He was aware of your odd behaviour by the way you kept on touching your index finger throughout the day. The week, actually. Spencer could tell you were bothered by something, he could tell you were deeply upset. You skipped breakfast and you never had lunch with them. Not that past week.

And judging by the dark circles around your eyes, you weren't sleeping well either.

He saw himself in you a month back.

See, Spencer was the kind of person who didn't like being vulnerable around anyone. If anything, he mastered the act of not communicating his feelings, he just expected them to disappear, which didn't happen but he was getting better at understanding that.

After Emily's passing, the only one he opened up to was you. And it was the hardest and best choice he ever made. You made him feel seen. It was so easy to talk to you about anything that he didn't notice until a few days ago that you were a very good listener. Not that he didn't notice that before, no, it was not that. But you just listened. You comforted. You held.

Spencer was really concerned about your coping mechanisms, because he knew he didn't have the most healthy ways of dealing with things. He hoped you were better than him. He hoped you didn't let it build up until you were suffocating.

So when you called him, he wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you. His lie laid on the reading part, he was trying to fall asleep but his concern was keeping him up.

I'm here for you too. He wanted to say. Please, let me be here for you.

“I know how much you love thunderstorms so I...” He sat down on the bed, shifting until he found a comfortable position. “I remembered you.” This is what he started with.

Your ragged breathing through the line cut off his rational thinking. So you have been crying.

He called your name softly.

“Hi. I'm here.” You say, forcing out an exhale.

“Talk to me.” He pleads.

He hears a faint sniffle, “I'm here, Spencer.”

No, you're not. You're far away.

“I'm here too. You know that right?”

“It's been a hard week.” You admit through your shaky voice. “I just needed to hear your voice.” You cut him off quickly. “I know that I saw you a few hours ago, but I—”

“Do you need me?” He was the one who cut you off this time. He couldn't bear you explaining the reason you called. You could call him as many times as you wanted. Every five minutes, every second. He wanted to tell you he missed you when your shift was over for the day even if he spent the entire day by your side, and that you never ever could bother him because he cherished your company. He wanted you close. And he just wanted you to be okay now.

“... It's one a.m, Spence.” There is some shifting through the line, sounds like you were moving around. “I— I can handle it. It's fine.”

“Do you need me?” He repeats, shuffling out of his room to the living room. He couldn't care less that it was one a.m. He found his coat hanged and didn't wait for your answer to put it on. Really, Spencer should have done it sooner.

He's half way on tying his left shoe when you breath out in resignation. Your voice much closer to his ear as if you were telling him a secret you should be ashamed of. “Yes. Yes, I need you.”

He let out a hum, standing up to grab his car keys and sprinted out of his home to go to yours.

“I'll be there in ten.”

You lived twenty minutes away from him, but he'd make in ten. He wanted to see you. More than anything, he wanted to tell you everything that you hadn't heard when you were too busy comforting people instead of yourself.

He stops short before knocking on your door, deciding on sending you a text to let you know he was there so you wouldn't be startled at the noise. He didn't get to click send as the door was yanked open. Your bloodshot eyes and swollen lips are the first thing he sees.

“Hi.” He says, slipping his phone into his pocket. As soon as he did that, your arms envelope his shoulders which caused him to let out a sound of surprise, but he quickly recover and wraps his own arms around you, squeezing your shaky body against his. “Hi.” He utters into the croak of your neck, his hand trailing up and down on your back gently. “I'm wet because of the rain,” he apologises halfheartedly. “Sorry.”

The laugh he hears through your sobs might just have made his day.

He was cold immediately after you slips out of his arms. You pull him inside your place and shut the door, claiming you would be back with a towel despite his protests that he didn't need it.

Spencer lost count of how many times he visited your place. He knew every corner of your apartment, every place you left books that you keep losing when you didn't found them on the shelves, every painting and drawing you had on the walls. The ones he happily convinced you to put on because you made them and they were beautiful, you just didn't believe it.

The two of you spent long hours on your couch, either reading a book and saying your favourite quotes out loud or just watching bad movies and TV shows to pass the time.

He'd ramble on and on about the inconsistencies of any plot and you'd engage in his refutations until you'd disagree and some bantering ensued.

“Here.” Spencer turns around to see you offering a towel for him to dry off. The middle of your forehead furrows slightly, he feels the need to smooth it out himself but he refrains from doing so. “It's dangerous to drive when the weather it's like this. I'm sorry that I made you come all the way here for nothing.”

“Nothing?” He shakes his head as if it's the most absurd thing you've ever said. “You're not nothing.” He accepts the towel and what he recognizes is a jumper of his he must have forgotten a while ago.

When he's completely dry, he walks to the kitchen where you had ventured off to make some tea.

Two mugs are placed on the kitchen counter, the smell of camomile slowly filling the room. You are lost in your thoughts again, mixing the honey in your tea with a spoon for forty-three minutes, your gaze unfocused. Lost.

His fingerstips trails down your wrist to your hand, proceeding to take one of your hands in his, thumb running across your palm. “Can you please look at me?” He requests softly, head tilting until you have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It” are a lot of things. But he doesn't know if you feel comfortable enough to talk about all of them tonight. He'll just follow your lead and respect your time.

“I don't want you to see me like this.”

He feels your fingers tighten around his hand and he squeezes back as a form of reassurance.

“Like what?” He can't help but ask. Vulnerable? Human?

“Weak.”

“You could never be weak in my eyes.”

This time, he does smooth down the frown between your brows with his thumb, surprised that you don't reject his touch but welcome it by leaning into his hand.

Neither of you drink the tea. Instead, you move back to the living room, settling down on your couch. You end up cuddling, which wasn't strange because you have done it many times before. Now it just feels more intimate. His hold never strayed from yours. This time, he listened. He comforted. And he held you.

“I'm used to blood, we see it all the time.” you carry on, speaking directly to his chest as he looks down at you. “But I... My hands. There was just so much of it and I couldn't, I couldn't save her.” Your fingers play with the straps of his jumper to distract yourself.

There was nothing that you could have done.

“She knows you did everything you could.” Spencer reassures. He was well aware that you weren't just talking about the victim that you had lost today. “Wherever she is right now...” He lifts a hand to cup your face stroking your cheek with the utmost care in the world. “She knows.”

Your bloodshot eyes study him carefully, searching for any indication that could make you not trust anything he just said. He knew how hard it was to believe that you had no fault in the loss of a friend. Maybe if we had gotten there sooner... Maybe if we had figured everything out sooner...

A little bird told him once that you can't dwell on the past for long or else you'll be stuck in it. And those words — your words — helped on his healing process. He hoped he did the same to you now.

You were laying on his chest, one of your hands positioned right where his heart laid as your other arm involved his middle. His arm wrapped around you as his fingers were trailing up and down your back in the way he knew calmed you down. Spencer felt the most rested he hasn't felt in months and he wasn't even sleeping.

“Tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head in response, finding that statement completely absurd because it was not possible for you to make him feel uncomfortable. He's not a fan of PDA, but he found that he didn't mind it with you. So he lowered down on the couch, moving your body with his to be more comfortable, lips grazing your temple in a soft kiss.

“You're not.” He says brushing your hair away from your neck. Your eyes were shut and he could feel your breathing evening out. “Try to sleep a little.” He let out in a whisper to not disturb your peacefulness. He knew you needed it.

“Don't go.” You croak out, tucking your nose in the croak of his neck, breathing into him.

The corner of his lips quirk up. “I'll be here when you wake up.” He promises as thunder rolled outside. Fluttering his eyes shut when you have finally dozed off, he ignores the warnings in his head about sleeping on the couch and how bad it is for one's neck.

No, he could deal with that tomorrow. For now, he would just hold you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ all I know of strength, I have learnt from breaking. ❞

— sahiba

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid angst

171 notes · View notes

rainykoo · 1 year

Text

whimper (m)

masterpost : recent

wc: 1.8k

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (fem)Reader

summary : in-which you can’t help but wonder what other noises your loud captain is capable of.

warnings : sub-dom dynamics (like barely), post-timeskip luffy, non-established relationship, you subconsciously have a corruption kink, mentions of intoxication, drunk sex, use of devil fruit (AGAIN IK m’sorry i love being creative), LOTS of kissing, unprotected sex (nuh uh uh!), rough, multiple orgasms, praise kink (reader), overstimulation, luffy is very needy.

‎

luffy has always been a rather vocal type, always having something to say— making sound effects at random. you of course have always adored that about him, listening intently as he rants and comments about various topics throughout the day.

it happened so subtly and gradually that it’s difficult to trace when you first started having such erotic thoughts about your captain. of course, you already, almost obviously crushed on him; long before these thoughts. but you’d never even imagine doing anything sexual with him.

evenings ago, you were simply having quality time with the crew at dinner. casually nodding your head and intaking all the conversation going on around you while eating with luffy. he’d let out an 'ah!' of joy... maybe even ecstasy, every time he munched on his steak. it almost sounded like whimpering. you guess this must have been the key instigater, because from them on-- you couldn’t help but imagine how his voice would sound with you atop him, milking every last bit of seed from his cock. how he would shudder and whine under you, buried balls deep in your walls.

so maybe that’s how you ended up here in the captains quarters after a huge banquet, tangled in luffy’s arms as he kissed you. only moments before having drunkenly confessed your love to luffy— all you could recall was him softly saying “speak your mind (name) i wanna hear what you have to say.” before you went on describing how you dreamed of his touch, his whines, his everything. the room was spinning by by now, you didn��t understand how he’d agreed to letting you fuck him... but you could always discuss that after.

luffy kisses you messily. his arms roaming every inch of your back before settling a hand on your waist, bringing the other hand to rest on the back of your neck, so he could deepen the kiss. he pulls away slowly for a second, just enough for you to get a breath of air, but no farther. his hand reaching up to caress the side of your face and cheek as he holds you tight, mouth never straying far from yours. his eyes are shut almost tightly, so lost in the kiss that he might go weak in the knees. your body was physically expressing itself as well— a wet substance coating the fabric of your panties. he lets out a whine when you bite his bottom lip, slightly opening his mouth so you can clash with his tongue. you slightly part from him again so you can breathe, almost reconnecting lips afterwards, but luffy stops you— noses just barely touching.

“(name).....” luffy whispered. “you really want me that much?" he’d say excitedly. there’s a big grin on his face and can tell in your captain’s voice that he’s turned on. “you can slow down, i wont go anywhere.. i promise ya!” he continues, giggling when he pulls you onto the soft mattress.

“m’sorry.. i just wanna make you feel good” you respond, letting him strip you of your shirt, then bra.

when you say that, luffy stares at you. he's breathing heavy, and slightly flushed. he smiles at you again saying, “nothing to apologize for” before pulling you down onto him, crashing his lips against your neck with a satisfied “mm”. he bites and nibbles aggressively, you pant loudly. his hands run down your body again, getting lower and lower. reaching the waistband of your shorts and unbuttoning them enough to slip his hand in. you choke out a moan when the pads of his fingers trace and press on the wet patch of your panties.

luffy looks up at you, and lets out a surprised laugh. he’d never heard you make a sound like that before and he loved it. he pulls you back in the kiss becoming a mess of teeth hitting against teeth and tongues pushing against one another. you bring your hands down to feel his abs, tracing patterns all the way down to his lower stomach, tugging on his shorts. luffy gets the hint, pulling away and quite practically yanking them off. he can’t help but feel a tingle of nervousness, having never done anything like this before. a wave of shivers goes through luffy’s body when you kiss his neck and slide a hand down rubbing the throbbing pre-cum coated cock in his briefs. a loud groan escaping him in the process.

“m- ahh… more please” he whispers, hips jerking up when you grasp him, pumping his length slowly. his breathing becomes more short and rapid, whispers of your name leaving his mouth in an excited and breathless way. you jerk him slightly faster. his head shakes involuntarily, n his eyes roll up to the back of his head completely and totally lost in the moment, “f-fuck (name).. h-hah” he moans out.

“does that feel good luffy..?” you coo, while he squirms. luffy was very overtaken by the feeling of your chilled hand wrapped around his painfully hard length, but he does his best to nod. it feels like he’s in the best dream ever, or heaven itself. but you interrupt his moment of pleasure by taking your hands away. you wanted him to save all the cum for when he’s inside you. he whines at the lost contact.

your already soaking wet, dripping at this point. so you don’t feel the need to bother with anymore foreplay. you just want to feel him, and he does too. you get rid of your shorts, then undergarments next. luffy following right after you. you grind down on his bare cock, luffy’s entire body shudders, and he’s not sure what to do. his mind is blank, and all that it’s capable of thinking about right now is the amazing feelings he’s experiencing because of you.

he can’t take this teasing anymore so he grasps your hips, forcing you to sink down on him with a moan. luffy gasps, the feeling making the sounds that he lets out even louder and more primal. “w- ah fuck, you feel s’good (name)!” you let your head fall backwards, a string of noises leaving your lips. luffy’s hands would hold tightly, helping you to move. he’d moan shamelessly and utter words of praises as you bounced on him. “so warm, god please don’t stop” luffy says breathlessly— though theres no way you would be able to, with how desperately he rutted up into you and the way his voice sang out sweet praises which rung through your ears. “keep talking.. i love hearing you” you say in a breath. his praises continued, cock rubbed and bumped at your g spot, blurring your thoughts. the original pain from the stretch he gave you long gone. your brows crashed together, legs slightly shaking.

“shit- aahh c-captain!!..” you heave out, feeling your climax hit you faster than expected in a way that left your head pounding.

all thought and logic have left his head at this point, but that’s ok. you didn’t call luffy captain often, and never in this context- so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to you when he whimpered and let his cum spill into you. his arms tightening around your waist as they start to glow in red light. you can’t quite catch what he whispered, luffy's body starts to glow in red light as well. his pupils become more slitted and snake like. he pulls you even closer. your chests now beating against eachother.

“feels t-too good” he says to you in a tone he has never used before.. luffy's voice had almost completely changed. it became way more raspy, and deeper. his movements had slowed down, but never completely coming to a halt. so it didn’t take long for the overstimulation to course through your body. “w-wait! nngh…”

he looks at you through half lidded eyes, the cum from the both of you making a ring around the base of his dick as he continues thrusting upwards. “o-oh wow!” luffy let’s out a throaty chuckle, he didn’t think he could go any deeper, the sensation was amazing. “(nameee) ah- i love being inside you! i need to stay inside you..”

he instantly lifts you up, his already broad arms even more muscular because his snakeman form. you get flipped over, cock still buried in you. he’s now slightly bent over you, ass pressed against his thighs.

the moans that leave your throat at that moment, could’ve- no must’ve echoed through the ship by now. and your captain wasn’t any better. he’d verbally and loudly express the feeling you clenching around him caused. abusing your pussy with his throbbing length reaching areas you didn’t even deem to be possible.

never once caring to even hush himself. you had brought a hand to your face in attempts to muffle the guttural noises you were making, but he’d pin the both of your hands behind your back. “stop, i wanna hear you.” luffy rasped. he’s fucking you dumb by now, drool slightly dribbling from your chin as he repeatedly calls out you name. beads of sweat formed on your bodies, you felt the second climax of the night threatening to break you.

“cumming, captain i- m’gonna cum!”

luffy wants to say something, but his mind his not functioning, the only things able to leave his mouth being moans. he furrows his eyebrows, eyes rolling back. you clam down on him, breath hitching as your juices coat him.

in response luffy’s entire body had just been rocked by the intense climax, which makes him collapse on top of you and gasp for breath. you feel his seed spill in you, it drips down your thighs ticklishly. you shudder euphorically.

it’s hard to see, but his eyes seem to be slightly tearing up he’s so overcome with exhaustion, euphoria and love that he’s not sure if he cried out because he’s happy or intoxicated. probably both.

your eyes fluttered. the feelings from the incredible climax he just had still remain. feeling a little bit overwhelmed by the feeling of what had just happened, luffy takes in deep breaths. you were both fucked out, snuggling and shifting around to be in each others embrace.

luffy smiles and nuzzles against you when he finally calms down. there’s a certain warmth he gets everytime you sleepily look at him with adoration. you had a lot of questions, but right now you were just happy to be in his arms. “only me..? right?” you’d ask in reference to what just happened. your hand stroking his hair. “only you, you’re the only one who’ll ever hear my whimpers (name)” he whispers flashing you a grin followed up by his iconic laugh.

as long as he only makes those sounds for you, everything will be okay.

it think this my fav writing by me so far although it’s shorter than i’d hoped.

#monkey d. luffy #mugiwara no luffy #mugiwara #luffy #op luffy #luffy x you #luffy smut #luffy x reader #strawhat luffy #one piece #op #strawhats #one piece headcanons #straw hat crew #rainykoo

770 notes · View notes

doodlebat33 · 7 months

Note

I loved the scene where Monkey King got intoxicated by the peaches. So how about this scene with Reader around?

They would definitely be bewildered by his tone change. In this sort of au sense, maybe he would be incredibly sleep deprived due to refusing to get any sleep because of his nightmares. He doesn't tell y/n about them at this point so he just makes things up like,

"Dude! You never know when there'll be a demon in the niiight. They're gonna... snatch ya up and... idunow... Eat ya or somthin..." his words are slurred and sparce.

Y/n obviously is concerned for monkey. They tell him that they feel plenty protected and that maybe he should take a nap since it's the middle of the day, less susceptible to any surprises. Monkey shakes his head but instantly regrets it as his head feels like it's going to spin right off his shoulders.

"No! I don need a NAP! Naps are fer mortal pebbles, liiike you." He points to an area near y/n, he squints a bit and sees y/n and adjusts his mockery. He starts to giggle a bit. "Ya know, now that I get a gooood look at ya," he holds y/n's face.

"You're.... kinda preeeety, hehehe... No wonder demons wanna eat ya. You a snaaaack, hehe... BUT! Don tell STICK I said that, mmmmkay? Shhhh!" He puts his finger to y/n's lips. "Is a secret... hehehe..." He starts to loose his balance and falls back to the floor, completely passed out in a snoring slumber. In respectful fashion, y/n ponders that in the world they just witnessed but they manage to take Monkey to their bed and sit in the room with him. Monkey King mumbles in his sleep, his tail thrashes back and fourth in frustration. Y/n holds his hand and he lays still again.

Monkey king x reader Masterpost

#monkey king netflix #monkey king 2023 #the monkey king netflix #monkey king headcannon #monkey king x reader #sun wukong x reader

195 notes · View notes

babytarttdoodoo · 9 months

Note

not sure if u do ship prompts so feel free to ignore this 💕 but maybe something where royjamie are caught making out by the himbos and there is much teasing. flustered jamie is a bonus. but honestly you could literally write anything and i’d read it💕💕

I absolutely do! Hope it’s to your liking 🙂 (I accidentally let some feelings get in here. Oops.)

Roy/Jamie, post-canon

Song rec: Do Ya

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

“We’re at work.” Roy reminded Jamie lightly, not sounding nearly as annoyed as he wanted to be. It was hard when he had a lapful of gorgeous, handsy footballer.

“Training’s over.” Jamie countered, eagerly pressing Roy back into his chair, one knee propped on the seat between his legs and arms braced to stop him from rolling away. “Plus, it’s your birthday, you grumpy twat. Let me kiss you.”

“That’s the rule, is it?” Roy fought the grin trying to break free. He wasn’t very successful.

Jamie hummed an affirmative, eyes bright and smile wide, before leaning in to seal their lips together. He licked into Roy’s mouth with another happy sound, deep in his throat, when he was met with equal enthusiasm.

Despite his reservations about location, Roy would never actually be able to turn down being kissed by Jamie Fucking Tartt.

He did cut it short, though, when Jamie moved his hands up to Roy’s face and, without his grip as an anchor, the wheeled chair scooted back with wild momentum. To his credit, Jamie still tried to follow him but promptly sent a stapler to the floor with a loud clatter in his haste.

“Alright, alright.” Roy broke away with a placating hand to Jamie’s chest, breathing hard and glad he was wearing his loose tracksuit bottoms. He glanced at the closed blinds of his office. “Not fucking here. Anyone could come in.”

“Part of the fun, innit?” Jamie waggled his eyebrows but relented and straightened up. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and expose a strip of golden skin. Roy’s eyes followed the movement of their own accord and he licked his still slick lips, only half aware that he was doing so.

Jamie, on the other hand, clearly knew exactly what he was doing and smirked like the little prick he was.

“Y’know, I were the last in the gym. No one in the locker room when I came through. Haven’t seen the lads in, like, 20 minutes.”

Fuck. It was tempting.

Roy reached out and gripped Jamie’s waist, tugging him in. He came happily but pouted when Roy just used him as leverage to stand. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“Sorry, coach, but you knew that already.” Jamie grinned, no hint of remorse.

“My fucking fault, then?” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned in for another brief press of lips, forcibly keeping it chaste. It was ridiculous, how quickly Jamie could rile him up. “Suppose that means I’m taking you back to mine.”

Jamie’s face lit up. “You’re leaving early?” he confirmed, clearly delighted.

“Not going to get anything else done, now, am I?” Roy sighed, digging his thumbs pointedly into Jamie’s hips.

Jamie laughed and pulled him towards the door.

“I promise to be the sexiest little present you could ever unwrap to make up for it.”

“Is that right?”

Jamie stuck out his tongue cheekily and Roy couldn’t help himself. He wound one arm tightly around Jamie’s waist, the other hand going to the back of his head so he could hold him close and put that tongue to better use.

It was intoxicating, getting to have this after thinking about it for so long. He was only vaguely aware that they were still moving.

One of Jamie’s hands flailed around until he found the door handle, grabbing both it and the front of Roy’s shirt to manoeuvre them through the entryway without needing to break contact.

He was clearly eager to get them home. Roy was enjoying this moment just fine, though, and pinned Jamie against the now open doorframe. He pushed up against him and tugged on his hair as he deepened the kiss even further.

Jamie’s answering moan cut off midway, morphing into an urgent, distressed sound. He batted at Roy’s chest and he pulled back immediately, concern like a wash of ice in his gut.

Too much? Too aggressive? This was still so fucking new.

“What’s wrong?”

Jamie had gone pale, eyes fixed to his right. Oh no. Roy followed his gaze reluctantly, a growing sense of dread making each second stretch.

The whole team. The whole fucking team. Plus Keeley. And Rebecca. Oh, fuck, the Diamond Dogs too.

All of them, gathered together in the locker room, seemingly frozen in the act of lighting candles on a black-frosted birthday cake.

Shit shit shit.

“Uh.” A grunt was all he could manage. Unfortunately, a quick glance at Jamie confirmed that he was in no state to talk them out of this either.

The moment stretched.

“Surprise?” Keeley finally ventured, voice high and breathy. She shimmied her hands and it broke the spell.

Rebecca broke into loud, unrestrained laughter. A few others joined in, more still shouting over each other in a sudden explosion of sound. The words Roy managed to make out amidst the cacophony seemed split between declarations of being proven right, or complaints that this was why surprise parties were stupid.

No one looked angry. Trent Crimm looked entirely too fucking smug. But there wasn’t a trace of disgust or outrage on any face that Roy could see.

A weight he hadn’t really been brave enough to acknowledge floated right off his shoulders.

Reassured that they weren’t about to have to fight for their jobs, Roy turned his attention back to Jamie, who had startled when the noise started up and still had a vice grip on the front of Roy’s shirt.

He wasn’t pale now, a flush painting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. His eyes were darting around, looking, Roy knew, for the same signs of rejection he had.

“Oi.” Roy squeezed his wrist gently. Jamie jumped again and snatched back his hands at the reminder of their proximity. He met Roy’s eyes though, a tremulous, hopeless smile in place.

Before either of them could say anything, Isaac’s booming voice cut through the room.

“Is this what all that ‘extra training’ was about?”

“Eh, no!” Jamie shot back, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Look at me, you think you put on this kind of muscle in the bedroom?”

“Depends how you’re doing it.” Jan offered, which was a mildly terrifying train of thought Roy was not going to pursue.

“I can’t believe neither of you told me!” That was Keeley, somehow managing to look elated and put out at the same time.

“We haven’t told anyone.” Jamie whined. “Haven’t even told me mum yet. She’s never gonna forgive me.”

“I’m sure introducing her to Roy Kent will help smooth that over.” Rebecca said, eyes still bright with laughter and smirk firmly in place as she gave Roy the once over.

“I’ve already met her,” he snapped, the attention grating at him. “And it’s fucking new, alright? We didn’t need you lot sticking your noses in, and we still fucking don’t.”

There were a few grumbles but his typical Kentian reaction seemed to calm the rabble a bit.

“Question?” Sam raised a hand politely. “How long has this been going on, exactly?”

“About a month, I think.” Roy did a double-take and stared at Will, who had just cheerfully chipped in that (accurate) information from the corner.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jamie covered his face with his hands. “Boot room?”

“Boot room.” Will confirmed sagely and Roy just knew his own face was turning red now.

“Boot room?” Trent sounded even more smug than he looked. Roy growled at him.

He was quickly distracted, however, when he noticed cash changing hands among the players and - in a mortifying twist of events - Higgins.

“You had a fucking betting pool?” Jamie’s voice rose in pitch and volume, incredulous and offended. “I were over here, having a crisis about a crush on our manager and you were betting on it?”

He was looking specifically at Colin and Dani, who both shrugged.

“It was not a crush.” Dani argued. “You’ve been head over heels for years. It just took you longer than everyone else to realise it.”

“Look at it this way.” Colin continued, blithely accepting a wad of notes from Richard. “At least we were confident it was going to happen.”

Jamie glowered and threw up his hands.

“I regret everything. I never should have fucking come out to you lot. You- Wait a minute.” He stopped mid-rant, blinking at the all but forgotten cake. “Did you all plan a surprise party for Roy and not invite me?!”

A few people did at least have the grace to wince at that.

“Thing is, babe,” Keeley started gently. “You tell Roy everything.”

“Kind of ruins the ‘surprise’ part.” Moe agreed. “We figured you’d be with him, anyway. You usually are.”

“Which makes all the sense in the world, now.” Trent observed and didn’t cower nearly enough under Roy’s vicious glare.

Jamie pouted, tucking his hands into the ends of his sleeves. “Don’t tell him everything.” he objected petulantly. “I can keep a secret.”

“We know.” Sam sidled a bit closer, smile genuine and voice cajoling. “The point is, we didn’t want you to have to. Even if it’s a nice thing, it can be hard to keep something from someone you, ah…”

He trailed off, glancing between the two of them.

“Care about.”

That was oddly touching, Roy thought, but Jamie still looked on the verge of being genuinely upset. This wasn’t when or how they’d talked about telling people.

“Right.” He clapped his hands together, bringing all the eyes in the room back to himself. “If it’s my fucking party, then what I say goes. First off, no one breathes a word about this outside of the people in this room.”

He glared around, making sure the gravity of that statement set in. There wasn’t as much fear as there might have been a year ago but he thought there was a tad more respect, at least.

“Second, we’re going to cut the fucking cake now. I will blow out a single candle. No bloody singing.”

A round of nodding. More than they’d expected, probably.

“And third.” He slipped his hand into Jamie’s, easing his fingers out of their grip on his shirt’s fabric with the movement. “I don’t want to hear a single fucking catcall, innuendo or double entendre when we leave together, got it? Today or any other day.”

The team especially looked disappointed but enough of them seemed to have taken notice of Jamie’s defensive posture that there wasn’t too much outcry. Keeley raised her eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes, hoping his blush had died down.

“Glad we’re all on the same page. Now get to it.”

A hubbub of activity took over again as everyone returned to what they had been doing when Roy and Jamie unexpectedly burst into their party preparations. Music started up from someone’s phone and the sound of a champagne bottle being opened triggered a bunch of cheers.

Jamie shuffled in close again.

“Thanks.” he said quietly, swinging their joined hands a little. “You didn’t have to.”

“They’re a bunch of muppets.” Roy told him. “But no one here’s out to get us. It’s not… I know it’s not what we talked about but. It’s okay, right?”

Jamie nodded, chewing his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, course it is.” He huffed. “Can’t believe those two just made a mint off of me misery.”

“Misery?”

Jamie turned a little pink again and knocked his hip against Roy’s. “Got drunk at the end of season party last year. Ended up spilling my guts to Dani about how I felt about you. He roped in Colin to deal with the whole bisexuality thing, and both of them were sworn to secrecy.”

It pained Roy a little bit, to think of Jamie pining unhappily while he was still getting his head on straight. Or not straight, as it were.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make them pay for it.” Roy offered and Jamie’s expression cleared. He narrowed his eyes at the lads in question and hummed.

That didn’t bode well for them.

“And, since it’s a special occasion, I won’t mind you having a drink and a bit of cake.”

Jamie properly brightened at that and (quickly, shyly) kissed Roy’s cheek. It was so much more innocent than what they’d been doing just a few minutes ago but it threatened to make Roy weak at the knees.

He shoved at Jamie playfully and he grinned as he moved away and let himself be absorbed into the throng of people. Sam slung an arm around his shoulders immediately.

Beard sidled up into the now vacant space next to Roy.

“I’m going to tell Ted,” he informed him, sounding almost apologetic. Almost.

Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. But if he sends me anything with rainbows on it, you’ll be the one fucking burning it.”

#I really thought this was going to be 800w #roy x jamie #jamie tartt #roy kent #richmond himbos #diamond dogs #fic prompts #my fic

229 notes · View notes

kthyg · 1 year

Text

ghoul. — (intoxicated) (m)

[FIFTH INSTALMENT OF GHOUL SERIES: INTOXICATED]

"I'll pleasure you like how you deserved."

After dinner, Taehyung brought you to his house and took you like you were his.

pairing: taehyung x reader

rating: M for Mature

genre: tokyo ghoul au, soulmate au, smut, gore

disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction. descriptions of the BTS members in this story does not reflect nor portray them in real life. everything in this story only fits in imagination and does not apply outside of imagination.

warning: drugging, non con/dub con sexual activities (oral f receiving, fingering, body worshipping, oc is conscious but not really..., manhandling - softly tho), emotional and sentimental tae also ruthless tae, jimin js wants the best but got hurt instead, there's so much gore in this, cannibalism (heavy on this).

word count: 4.2k+

lexicon & profiles | masterpost | masterlist | navigation

note from winter 💌:

this chapter contains heavy themes :( i do hope you know your triggers before proceeding. i trust u with ur own triggers so pls, read if comfortable, skip if uncomfortable.

💌 what is winter listening to? : consume by chase atlantic ft, goon des garcons

📝 if you want to know more about this au, you can refer to lexicon & profiles. any other questions you can refer to me !!

dedication: sleep demon pt.3

You weren’t his soulmate.

You weren’t his friend.

You weren’t even his acquaintance.

But Taehyung had to call his chauffeur to bring you somewhere – he doesn’t care where as long as you and he were away from the coldness. He had no idea where your house was, and he definitely didn't want to go through your phone just to call your 'soulmates' to ask for your house location. So, he was bringing you to his house instead.

When his driver arrived, he immediately got in and turned the heat up enough to warm you up quickly. As he laid you on his lap, your cheeks were red from the cold breeze outside. His hands found their place on your cheeks as he helped you warm up. Your chest rose and fell slowly and steadily once your body temperature returned normal. Your breathing was shallow, and it made Taehyung panic unknowingly.

Once he was satisfied with the heat of your body, only then did he let go. He detached his hands from your face and stroked your head, occasionally brushing through your hair when he heard you purring in contentment.

You and his other soulmate, Yoongi, would make a great pair, he thought. Yoongi liked whenever his soulmates stroked his hair.

Yoongi’s true persona was Taehyung's hidden persona. The cold and aloof persona. If you could get used to his, you’d have no problem with Yoongi’s. But then why would he even think of getting you into his relationship?

He knew that you and Yoongi hated each other – from Jimin – although you didn’t seem like someone who could hate on someone. From the previous hours of talking with you, he could conclude that you were a soft-hearted person – being obsequious was your nature, not a façade. But that doesn’t make you any less of a great ghoul investigator. You were an excellent ghoul investigator: an investigator that never hesitated to kill any ghoul in the name of duty, the second woman to have made it to Associate Special Class rank – the first one being Jimin’s younger sister, aka your best friend, Rosé, or Park Roseanne or also Park Chaeyoung – you were a very remarkable woman with exceptional skill in KCCG.

You were very impressive for a pure human, and being in the Jeon clan was a plus point – despite being the adopted child. Your background was honestly fascinating to Taehyung. He knew you were not originally from Korea and were from Japan, but he didn’t know how you were brought here, by who, when, or what happened – he wanted to know that.

He better asked his soulmate, then. Jungkook was extremely close to you for all that he knew.

Before Rosé became the first female Investigator of Special Class, almost all the ghoul investigators were males. There were only a few female investigators during her early years in KCCG and before you joined the organisation. The highest most female investigators have climbed in rank was First Class, and they all retired at one point. Still, Rosé broke the record impressively and earned two honourable titles: KCCG's first female Special Class Investigator and Investigator of Special Class.

She was likely to follow her older brother to become the best of the best, especially when her older sister, the first female born in the Park siblings, could not take up the duty of being a ghoul investigator.

There was a reason why most ghoul investigators retired at the rank of First Class. Associate Special Class and Special Class investigators were both difficult to achieve. They required strenuous efforts and great willingness because not everyone would want to dedicate their whole life to their career, especially if they were mediocre. KCCG gave these ranks to the most robust investigators. They could be earned by a person easily or through ten times the hard work to earn First Class. You would be an excellent example of the latter: you have trained for years in the Ghoul Training Academy. Rosé, however, was exempted from training and jumped to the honorary Rank 3.

Again, there was a reason for it.

She was a half-human.

Every half-human owned superstrength physical capabilities. Since the Kim clan took over KCCG from the Jung, they have exploited half-humans in their best interest in exterminating ghouls. Take three of Taehyung’s clan members: Jin, his older brother; Jisoo, his younger sister; and Mingyu, his paternal half-brother – They were all half-humans.

“We’ve arrived,” the chauffeur announced.

Taehyung acknowledged with a nod as he carefully adjusted his position while trying not to wake you up. The chauffeur opened the door, and Taehyung got out with you in his arms as he made a beeline toward the building entrance. As he walked into the building, the chauffeur watched him with a look that showed Taehyung’s actions and behaviour were highly unusual.

Taehyung has never, ever carried a woman.

Not even the victims of his cannibalism.

And his mannerism around you? That spoke a lot.

He entered the luxuriously fitted building he had been sharing with his soulmates, but most were not around. He knew because almost every floor was devoid of lights, although it was almost midnight; Namjoon was a work freak – he rarely came home. Hoseok was probably settling the uproar at 10th ward with Rosé. Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi joined the research about the newly found drug that had been spreading in 21st ward at the KCCG laboratory, and Jin had been staying at the Kim Main House for the past few days.

But even if his soulmates were around, he wouldn’t hesitate to bring you in. He could easily avoid everyone except Jimin because he would always barge into his floor, but that was nothing Taehyung couldn’t prevent. Taehyung stepped into the elevator, and the system automatically scanned his eyes. After successfully receiving the input, the screen showed the floor destination, Taehyung’s floor.

The elevator arrived with a ding, and the door slid open.

The veil of darkness obscured his vision immediately after the elevator’s door closed. He couldn’t bring himself to switch on the main hall's power source because he had already strode down the hallway to his room, clearly not minding the darkness. Once he reached his room, he delicately placed you on his bed and knelt next to the bed, his long fingers ghosting the side of your face. Longingness flashed in his eyes as he rested his face on his arms.

You were so beautiful; had he told you that?

His fingers began to trace from your jaw to your cheek and the bridge of your nose. His thumb caressed your flushed cheek softly as if you were so fragile that one rough touch could break you.

It was weird.

It wa weird that touching you felt so normal.

It was weird that Taehyung felt the need to pleasure you to redeem the hell you’ve been put through.

He heard about the rough training session you and his soulmates had last week. At first, he didn’t care, but now that he had quality time with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad about the rough treatment you received from your superiors. He could still see the scar on your cheek that you had covered with the concealer, which you had undoubtedly gotten from the training. Jimin had been so gracious to bestow him the minute of meeting (or training).

Taehyung rose to his feet and sat next to you. The bed dipped to his side once his weight settled on the soft mattress. His hand travelled from your face to your left lumbar region. From what Jimin had described, he remembered precisely where your wounds would be. He pulled up your shirt to expose your stomach to his eyes. He propelled two fingers as if to inspect an injury on the bruised left side of your waist. A pained moan escaped your lips immediately when he pushed. He didn’t let the pain linger longer as he pulled away to leave the room.

He returned with a packet of pills and a glass of water.

You stirred awake when you felt Taehyung lightly tapping his fingers on your cheek and his voice calling your name. It was no different than when your eyes had been closed; darkness still clouded your vision. You could make out the bedroom layout, the furniture, and Taehyung’s unreadable face just barely because of the enormous window that allowed lights from the bright outside city to illuminate the room.

“Take these,” he handed you a laminated packet of pills. “It’ll help you with the pain.”

You didn’t bother to ask what medicine he handed over as you popped it out of its packet. Taehyung brought a glass of water to help ease the pills' movement into your system. “Thank you,” you muttered groggily.

You weren’t exactly in pain.

What pain did he mean?

"I feel funny." You told him.

You saw his soft smile as he stroked your hair. His voice was mellifluously low as he spoke, “Given that you're drunk and all.”

No, it wasn't just that. Of course, the fact that you were in Taehyung's place, drunk as fuck, and on his bed was already funny. You were slowly losing your senses. What pills did he give you? You couldn't feel your limbs anymore.

"I'm guessing you've noticed it by now."

What?

"Tae–"

He quickly shushed you softly as he continued, “Don’t worry. It’s a temporary effect.” He leaned into your face, his eyes looking at you so… lovingly, so full of emotions. The eyes that had been staring at you with nothing but a dull gaze were now looking at you like you were the only person that mattered. Were the pills harmless even if the effect was only temporary?

His palm cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing so gently, so softly that it almost had you close your eyes to enjoy it. You could feel your body slowly burning up as seconds passed. It must be from one of the pills he gave. You cursed at yourself for being so careless and vulnerable. “I want you to rest properly…”

“While I pleasure you.”

Lost in confusion, you only stared at his eyes, trying to understand his meaning. The question was on the tip of your tongue, but Taehyung didn’t seem like he would answer you as he dived into your neck, inhaling vehemently. His hands glided to your wrists. The feeling of his fingers feathering around your pulse made your heart bloom with warmth, as much as you wished it didn’t. Taehyung locked his fingers around your wrists and pinned them above your head.

Your heart squeezed at his manoeuvring; All of his movement was painstakingly tender that your heart hurt.

His hand pressed on your wrists enough to restrict any movement from you. His dark orbs scanned your flushed face and body as his free hand slithered the curve of your body, “So delicate… My dainty cherry,” purred Taehyung.

Your mind was still hazy from the alcohol; you hadn’t had the chance to sober up properly, not now when Taehyung had given you those pills. You could feel your limbs again, albeit not entirely; they felt heavy. You groaned when you tried to move your arm but stood no chance against Taehyung’s grip.

“You don’t need to move at all, princess,” he told you; his palm cupped your sex, eliciting a gasp from you. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

His hand reached to deftly undo your pants and the other piece of fabric under them. The cold breeze against your flushed skin felt like nothing when Taehyung covered his hand around the skin of your thigh. His calloused hand stroked your thigh until it reached dangerously near your heat again, making you squirm in response.

“So responsive, aren’t you?” Taehyung cooed. “I barely even started.”

His delicate fingers reached to play with your folds. He spread them and blew air, causing goosebumps on your skin. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes, and you could only think of one thing; you were wet. He traced a finger and dragged it along the line of your vulva.

“Can I kiss you?” He gazed deeply into your eyes. His gaze was nothing short of like a man in love. Whispering, he added, “Please?”

Even so, Taehyung didn’t wait for you to answer as he lowered himself and captured your lips. He kissed you hard, devouring you. His wet muscle intruded your mouth, deepening the kiss. You were out of breath, but Taehyung didn’t seem to care as he continued to fuck your mouth with his hot tongue.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips when you felt digits delve into your pussy. You managed to break the kiss (because Taehyung let you do so), but his lips still hovered dangerously close to yours as he continued to finger you vigorously, forcing moans to spill from your lips. You sobbed uncontrollably when you felt his fingers reach the spot of intense pleasure. Your face was stained with tears and saliva, both yours and Taehyung’s. He sloppily kissed and licked your face while his fingers were inside you, making you a wet, wrecking mess.

“Taking my fingers so well,” husked Taehyung. “Like you were meant for me.”

Moans and whines were spilt uncontrollably from your lips, but they were a beautiful, mellow tune for Taehyung. He got off your pretty voice, crying out his name or just incoherent words.

“Do you like it, cherry?” He asked in between kisses. “Has anyone ever touched you? You’re so tight around my fingers.”

You couldn’t respond to him when you knew this was wrong, but you felt good. You wouldn’t respond to him because it was such a personal question to be asked.

Why would he even care?

If trying to get laid was his objective this whole time, your experience wouldn’t have mattered to him.

You turned your face away from him to avoid any more intimate kissing and licking from him, but, of course, Taehyung wasn’t going to let you. His hand that was on your wrists reached for your jaw and turned you to face him again.

His voice was rough and thick with malice as he rasped. “Answer me.”

“N—No one has ever—” You sputtered.

He seemed satisfied with your answer as he fastened the pace, his fingers abusing your sweet spot, making you see stars. His lips travelled down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the expanse of your skin. His hot breath fanned your ears as he whispered silkily, “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

Fire had been pooling in your lower abdomen long enough that when he huskily commanded you, the spring coiled tightly one last time before you shattered around his fingers. Your body dissolved into pleasure as everything cut to white noise, drowning the soft praises that spilt from Taehyung’s lips for you as he slowly pulled out his fingers that were coated with your essence – not before playing with the swollen lips, pushing you to overstimulation and eliciting a string of strangled moans from you.

Taehyung released your wrists, but you made no effort to move them to cover your face even though you desperately wanted to hide your face from his gaze. You could only afford to close your eyes in hopes of passing out – hoping that the veil of darkness would cover you fully, your vision and mind, so you could brush this off as a nightmare. You were embarrassed and humiliated that you had enjoyed having his fingers pleasuring you and giving you an orgasm (after so long). You did nothing to escape him when he had clearly forced his way with you.

Who should you blame in a situation like this?

You almost slipped into unconsciousness when you felt tappings on your cheek, followed by his voice.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” Taehyung cooed. “I’m not done with you.”

Before you could protest, he turned your body over, stomach flat on the soft mattress and your back exposed to his eyes. His movement was so fast, and you could finally comprehend his true control over you. You tried to turn around again – to push him away. To kick him off you. To do anything to get away from him and this place.

But the Special Class Investigator climbed on top of you as quickly as he flipped you over.

“Tae?” Jimin entered his soulmate’s apartment after he had rung the doorbell and entered the passcode. The first thing he did when he stepped into Taehyung’s territory was to cover his nose. The air was reeking of sex, and there could be only one reason. The space was seemingly endless as no lights were on, looking like nothing but a black hole. Had he not heard the rustling of a comforter from his partner’s bedroom, he would’ve thought no one was home.

Making his way toward Taehyung’s bedroom, he switched on the hallway’s lights. Once he reached the bedroom, he twisted the doorknob and invited himself in without knocking or making his presence known again. He didn’t need to. It was unlike for there to be anyone other than his soulmate.

“Again with new victim?”

Or his soulmate and his victim. Probably dead, or if she was lucky, Jimin had come right before Taehyung ate her. “I restocked your fridge with enough meats to last until the end of this week,” Jimin crossed his arms. Taehyung’s room was so dark that he could barely see the victim’s nor his soulmate’s face. But why did he catch a glimpse of you?

No, Taehyung wouldn’t be so stupid to hunt for doves now, would he?

Sighing, he pinched his temple and walked towards the bed where his soulmate was; hearing that Taehyung didn’t say anything in return – which was extremely odd – he continued, “If you ran out of it early, you could’ve just told–”

The pillow looked a lot like your face now. Has he gone mad because of Namjoon’s drastic decision to remove you from his squad to the point he hallucinated?

Fuck no, he wasn’t.

That was you. (Y/N).

“What the fuck, Kim Taehyung!?” Jimin roared and immediately stormed to the bed, body filled with pure unadulterated rage. “Get off her!”

He kept the thought of sharing you with his other soulmates as a safe notion, but not when he was seeing red: threat and danger surrounding you. It kicked off his primal instinct. You were hovered over by Taehyung, eyes shut and face red like a rose as you lay unmoved.

He must’ve drugged you.

“Another step,” Taehyung said, voice dripping with malice. “And I’ll bite your head off.”

Red luminous glow.

That made Jimin pause his step abruptly. Was his soulmate serious about his threat to the point that he activated his kakugan? He truly didn’t want to engage in a fight at the moment – especially with his soulmate. Taking a deep breath, Jimin tried again, this time with a gentle and slow voice. “Let her go, Taehyung.”

“Get out.” Taehyung didn’t miss a beat, quickly dismissing his soulmate with animosity.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Kim–”

“I said. Get. Out.”

That was enough to snap Jimin’s thin patience as he immediately took another step, disregarding his soulmate’s threat. Still, Taehyung was quicker as his mouth connected to the junction of your shoulder and neck. The crown of his teeth dug into your flesh deeply, blood starting to ooze out from the wound. He tore your flesh, completely detaching it from you. The drug must be wearing off because a painful moan escaped your lips, followed by a soft sobbing.

Darkness started flowing into Jimin’s sclera like ink, and prominent red veins surrounded the eye and the skin around the eye. His iris transformed into bright red, glowing with malice. Simultaneously, a scale-red kagune was generated and pierced through the back of Jimin’s body and shirt. The liquid muscles whizzed towards Taehyung and wrapped themselves around his body, pulling him away from you with mighty force.

“Namjoon will be hearing about this,” Jimin reprimanded his soulmate before he immediately walked towards you with urgency. He brought his hand to inspect your wound and could only sigh at the severity. Taehyung’s infliction of pain on you was a ghoul to human. You were neither half-ghoul nor ghoul, not even a half-human. You didn’t have the ability to regenerate or recover your injury as quickly as the listed species. The only way you could make it out of here alive was to boost up your Rc cells – at least temporarily before he brought you to Namjoon.

Jimin bit off his flesh and lowered himself to you. His hand gripped your jaw to force it open, but the sudden force caused you to thrash around, trying to remove his hand.

“Stop moving unless you want to die (Y/N).” He chided.

Had you not been drugged and half of your body could not move properly according to your will, you would’ve slapped him across the face. Your blood was boiling: the nerve to say that when he was no different than the other guy.

The person that bit off your flesh was apparently his soulmate, and you trusted neither of them equally.

“Fuck off.” You spat as you took out your hidden quinque: Ifraft and Abksol. Summoning any excess energy, you stabbed Jimin’s arm, piercing his flesh so profoundly. Save the guilt and remorse for another time as your body and mind enter fight-or-flight mode.

“Fucking hell–” He lurched back from the sudden attack. “(Y/N)!”

You didn’t just attack because of distrust.

Bringing one of your knees closer, you kicked Jimin off the bed and tried to get up. The luminosity of his red eye increased as he glared at you. He managed to get up and look perfectly unscathed.

“Y–You…” The realisation had you tongue-tied and spluttered as tears coursed down your face, blood still oozing from the open wound. “You’re a ghoul…”

You attacked him because he was the species you dutifully needed to exterminate.

“(Y/N),” Jimin began, voice unwavering. “I really need you to cooperate with me right now if you don’t want to die. It’s only a matter of time before your wound becomes fatal to your life if untended.”

“Thank you, but I can walk to the nearby hospital.” You turned down his proposal with a stern gaze.

“And risk you exposing us?” His voice lowered a pitch, and his eyes darkened. “Not a chance, (Y/N).”

His kagune generated another scaled tentacle and whizzed its way toward you. You were quick to cut through his soft kagune with the daggers in your hands, but just with that defence movement, you were already out of breath. You clutched onto the blades like they were your lifeline.

‘It’s only a matter of time before your wound becomes fatal to your life if untended.’

Fuck…

It would be best if you made it to the door and out of this place, call Mingyu or Minghao and–

“You spoke your thoughts out loud, honey.” It wasn’t Jimin’s voice.

Before you or even Jimin could even turn to the one and only person the voice could’ve come from, a pair of kagune latched itself to your wrists, simultaneously yanking away your weapon. Taehyung had broken free from Jimin’s rinkaku grip by summoning his own kagune. His scale-red tentacles pierced through Jimin’s, and immediately, the liquid muscles disappeared into thin air because the weak bond between the Rc cells in his kagune was disturbed by a sudden greater force.

Taehyung’s movement was fast as he ripped off his own flesh and forced it on you by shoving the piece down your throat without mercy. His voice was rough as he gritted out a command for you to chew on his flesh. His hand covered almost the lower half of your face to prevent you from spitting the flesh out.

The force he put on you was pressuring and suffocating.

You were vulnerable.

Your wrists were held down by Taehyung’s rinkaku, immobilising you at once.

“Eating his flesh one time won’t turn you into a ghoul,” Jimin said from afar. It almost sounded as if to soothe, but his voice was incomprehensible given the situation at hand, and you have long gone into fight-or-flight mode. His whole kagune disappeared into thin air, and his eye was restored to its normal state, leaving only Taehyung in his ghoul form. “It will only boost your Rc cells before we can bring you to the doctor.”

You were forced to accept his flesh with the force Taehyung put in his hand on your mouth. The soft muscle has no way out; way in was the only way. You tightly clenched your eyes as you chewed and let the flesh enter your body. You could taste the blood, thick on your taste bud, and most likely to leave behind a lingering after-taste. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes, and it took you by surprise when you felt something brush the tears away.

“I’m sorry you got to know it this way,” Jimin spoke softly as his thumb gently wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. “Let go of her, Tae.”

Taehyung was unmoving. His gaze was hard on you. It was a gaze of malice that mixed with sombreness. His red scale tentacles let go of your wrists and travelled to your neck – to where your pulse was, just above the wound.

“You took a prevention medication, didn’t you?”

#kthyg : ghoul #taehyung x reader #yandere bts #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung angst #bts angst #yandere taehyung #taehyung x oc #taehyung x you #taehyung imagine #bts imagine #taehyung scenario #bts scenarios

476 notes · View notes

hongjoongscafe · 10 months

Text

Bloody Love...

Chapter: IV-Secrecy-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 5.3k+

♠︎Warning: murder (decently graphic?), implied smut, good old stalking.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Power. It was something Jungkook loved with his whole heart. He could set the whole place on fire and no one could point a finger at him. He knew what he was and what he could do.

This power was the sole reason why he came this far. What was the use of power if he was not going to use it? He wanted every single breathing thing to know what he held. He loved when they shivered whenever he and his men would go around. There was another type of intoxication.

However… Nothing could reach up to the level of Coronis.

She was his new obsession and nothing was going to stop him from making her his. People felt like venom to him but she… She was the sweetest essence he ever experienced. He was a man who always got drunk by massacring his commoners.

However.

Coronis was not one of those. At first glance, he wanted to take her and just make her sit in his bed and keep on looking at her.

Her black, fierce eyes were looking into his eyes with a burn that he felt in his heart. His world paused and his inner demons calmed down after years and years of screaming. For the first time in his life, he felt that heat. The very heat that made him kill his own guard just for a crying girl who was crying for mercy for her sister.

Coronis.

A content sigh left his lips. His fingers itched to feel her cold skin against them again. He was thirsty to hold her up against his naked self and explore her every inch. His ears wanted to hear her moan his name. Her intoxicating self was enough to make him feel like a stupid virgin who saw a naked girl for the first time.

In the night sky, when foggy stars would dully twinkle, he would see her face carved on them. His heart would run miles, wanting to see his shining moon through those shabby bushes and into her slot where she would be sleeping like an angel.

“When will the day come when I will hold her here in my bed?” he let another exaggerated sigh while playing with her clothes. He was so proud of her. He felt like she would never betray him ever. But what if she did? Would she meet the fate others met?

“Jimin-ah…” he supported himself on his elbow as he looked at the man by his door. “Make sure to keep an eye on my little birdy. Make sure she doesn't fly away from home.” He said in his dulce voice.

“Taehyung along with Lando is already making sure to keep an eye on her grace. Two men, Jay and Stephen are on duty taking care of it. We will make sure nothing out of your liking happens,” said Jimin. “It was heard that her grace doesn't come out of her shack as often. She usually stays back and works.”

“Hm… Is that so,” he smirked. “Isn't she already a good girl… My little good girl.”

Nobody could see her the way he did. No one is no more allowed to touch her anymore. She belonged to him and he loathed it whenever someone touched his possessions.

A knock on the door shook him out of his head. Jimin slightly opened the door. His Highness saw Mingyu whispering something. Shortly, Jimin closed the door and turned towards him. “Your Majesty,” he began. “Amos is caught. They are waiting for your word.”

He hummed merrily. “Dungeon is good, don't you think? The boisterous dungeon.”

Jimin felt his hands sweating. He waited for a moment to see whether this was his final command. When his highness looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat. “As you wish, my lord.”

The guard opened the door slightly and passed on the command before shutting it close. The devil was going to overtake tonight. The one who was worse than he usually was. He was the devil that no one outside of the castle saw.

The sharp smirk on his face as he got up from his bed. His naked form walked towards the door in his room that had his attire. He dressed his lower body, keeping his chest bare. He didn't want to make a mess on his clothes but rather on his body.

Tonight, he was going to play and colour himself with blood.

…

Creepiness. It was crawling up her back like a spider. Our brains are built in a way that we can feel someone staring at us from a distance. When that happens, it gives an eerie feeling in our guts. It makes us want to look around and know the source of it.

That's how Coronis felt for days and there was no end. If it wasn't him, then someone else was constantly watching. She was getting agitated by this constant feeling.

When others watched, it was never as intense as his glare. Others felt ineffectual but his glare made her want to crawl under the ground and never come back.

The day she looked into his eyes was the day she felt like she got herself into something deep but now she realized that it wasn't just something deep but a whole hell hole. She stepped into the way of hell. She just hoped for an exit.

“What do you think would look better on me? Grey or this greenish white?” Nori asked Coronis as she stood with two gowns against her sides.

She looked up and examined the two dresses. It was Nori's cousin’s wedding in a few days. She was going to go to another village to attend it. They both were not happy to be away from each other for so long. So Nori asked her cousin if she could bring someone with her and they agreed.

But Coronis couldn't agree to attend the ceremony because she still had to prepare bread for the king. So it was impossible for her to go. Nori eventually decided to only go a day before the wedding and return after attending the ceremony.

“This green would look pretty on you. It compliments you so well!” Nori smiled and sat beside her. “You can wear anything and it will look beautiful… A dress only needs a gorgeous body to look good and you have that. Your pretty face will look the prettiest of all.”

They giggled. “I wish you could come with me.”

Nori lay down, resting her head on her lap. Coronis threaded her fingers through her hair and admired her soft features. She felt like a sweet dream. In a village full of monstrosities, she was a heavenly wind. Her words were sweeter than honey, and her voice was melodious which made Coronis want her to speak and never shut up.

“His Highness is too ruthless to let me go. He will probably wipe me out in front of your eyes for not providing him with his bread on time… Even though it is for three nights, I will miss you,” she kissed her forehead. “I wanted to see you all dressed up and ready for the ceremony.”

“Yeah? What do you think how will I look like?”

“Hmm… The prettiest of all. You can just go as is and you will look the most magnificent, pretty thing ever. No one can ever be so beautiful as you.”

Nori sat up straight facing Coronis. “You know who I think the prettiest is?” Coronis shook her head. “You. You are the most enchanting person I have ever seen. Your deep black eyes, those jet black long locks… a kind heart. Everything you touch becomes cosmic.”

Coronis chuckled shyly, “It's just because of your attraction towards me. I'm not what you say.”

Nori pulled her closer, caressing her cheek with her thumb and resting her forehead against hers, “You don't realize just yet. But you are the prettiest. Everybody wants a piece of you,” she let out a tiny chuckle. “I don't even know how I got so fortunate to get the whole of you. I just- I feel glad that you are here with me… I never want to let you go… Ever.”

Coronis pulled her chin and softly captured her lips in a warm kiss. Nori hummed and threaded her fingers through Coronis's hair. The moment for them was vehement. Their hands on each other, exploring their love.

The pang of guilt smothered Coronis. She was indeed putting Nori in this situation of vexation even though she (Nori) did not even realize it with the very little knowledge she had of Coronis. But was it really worth telling her about the demon that was breathing down her neck? Wouldn't it push Nori away from her? She couldn't afford that mental strain. It felt like she was her first hope of happiness.

Maybe just a little bit more.

“Coronis…” Nori pulled away. “Please, a little bit more…” she whispered.

“Tell me what you want, love,” Coronis tucked her hair behind her ear.

“You… All of you, please,” she begged her as she guided her hands towards her breasts. “Touch me a bit more.”

Moans and whimpers were all they could hear. For an extent of time, they forgot the horrors of the world and gave in to each other. The lingering touch woke their twisted sides. No matter how forbidden their relationship was, they let it cross the limits within the secrecy of their minds.

Coronis felt that if she let go of Nori's hand, she would lose her forever. Throughout these years, she had only been worrying about things. There was not a single day when she was not selfless. She spent her life taking care of and protecting the people she loved so dearly. At the end of the day, it was all draining. She felt unloved by people. Somewhere deep down, she needed affirmation of love, maybe just someone listening to her would be enough. But that never happened.

Nori was not only a sweet girl she saw on rare walks to the market but much more than that. However, her spiralling mind couldn't stop bothering her. Was it really love or just the vulnerability of the moment she caught her? Could she ever justify the feelings she had for Nori? Though she was forcing herself to figure it out, it still lacked the heat.

But then again, she never felt as assured in anyone's arms.

“Time flies by so fast,” Nori said as Coronis helped to tighten her corset from behind. “I wish we could just stop here and never stop existing together…” Nori licked her lips. “Don't you think- like,” she awkwardly chuckled. “That we belong together?”

Coronis's hands stopped. Her eyes stayed unfocused. “Do we?”

“Mhm,” Nori smiled and nodded her head ‘adorable’. “I think so. We are perfect! We might be so different, but that is what makes us entire. It's like–”

“You are the golden hour and I'm the stormy night,” she said.

Nori turned around, looking deep into her eyes, she said, “No. It's like we are separated swans that are meant to be together. Now, fate is bringing us together because you and I belong together. In the end, we are not that distant. Apart from some minor things, we are alike. I- I don't think that anybody could ever understand how we understand each other. I know that you are hiding so much from me,” her eyes were gloomy, thinking about things to herself for a bit but she shook her head and continued with a smile, “But that's entirely okay! We both have never been so intimate with anyone and now it feels new. And it takes time to open up emotionally. I understand that. I, too, have so much to tell you. That is how it works, isn't it? We wait for each other as long as it takes to be on the same page…”

“How far are we?” Coronis asked. “How far are we from being on the same page?”

Nori's mouth slightly opened to answer but nothing came out. They kept looking into each other's eyes. It felt like forever. What was she even supposed to answer? She didn't know whether Coronis shared the same feelings as her. In the end, their relationship began with being intimate with each other when they both were helpless, feeling the most down. As much as Nori knew she loved her, did she love her or at least like her? Or was it just infatuation for Coronis?

Nori's eyes blinked barely as she answered in a lazy whisper, “Why does that matter? As long as we are together… I think we– we,” tears brimmed her eyes as she looked down, hiding her face from Coronis. “I think we should keep on going like this till we feel like we are on the same page.” Maybe Nori could be a little selfish this time.

It felt like every day was getting trickier and trickier. Nothing made sense anymore. There were only two paths for Coronis but both felt sour. No matter what she chose, she was aware that chaos would happen. Her life was getting darker than the night. This was supposed to make her feel alluring. However, day by day, it became ghastly. It stifled her.

She knew that that man held power above any of them, just a little less than the King. If she betrayed him, which she was doing, he would bring hell to her doorstep and make her feel every inch of it. But if she went with Nori, she was afraid of what could happen. There was no right answer to what he would do to her or Nori.

No matter what she chose, it was going to be tempestuous, causing many inhumane steps to hurt whoever came in the way.

Nothing shall happen to Nori.

But wouldn't she break her heart by giving her hope now and then going away? Could she take it? Was Nori, the oh-so-kind-hearted little flower, able to take her perfidy? Coronis didn't know her own intentions for what they both have. Although, she knew she cherished the delicate lady with her whole heart. But was it possible to share the same sentiment as her?

Coronis shook herself out of her train of thought. “I think I should leave,” she said as she pulled the saddened body into her embrace. “We can sort it out when you come back. But there is still some time left. You must not think so far… Let's just live in what we have right now rather than worrying about tomorrow.”

She later smiled and looked up after wiping her eyes. “Mhm,” she pecked Coronis's lips. “I won't worry.”

Spending a little more time in each other's arms, Coronis took her leave, carrying twice as much burden back. Though she visited Nori to feel better just like before, now her heart was aching for another reason.

The walk back to her shack was a little distant. It took her no time to feel those creeping eyes on her. She looked around and caught a pair of eyes behind her at a decent distance. It was not him. She was getting used to getting stalked all the time. As much as her insides shivered, she didn't let it show outside. She looked like a cold-hearted person.

Keeping these creepers aside, her mind drifted towards another strain that was created.

“Coronis? Where did you get that locket from, that you were wearing yesterday?” Martha questioned as Coronis returned after seeing off Nori.

Coronis froze on her spot and looked Martha, dead in the eye. This was not supposed to happen. No one needed to know about any of this so how did she know about the locket? She could not even lie about it knowing it was made out of precious metal. Thinking for a second, she played dumb. “What do you mean? What locket?”

Martha sighed. “Do not act like that, Coronis.”

“I'm not acting like anything!” she exclaimed, already feeling on the edge of her emotions.

“Do you think I'm stupid? I have eyes and I see everything! What exactly are you hiding from me, Coronis?! I saw how you were wearing that forbidden thing around your neck! So please, tell me what is going on,” Martha stressed and held Coronis's arms.

“It's nothing that you should know,” She shoved her hands away and walked towards her slot.

“Coronis, you stay here! I'm talking to you!” Martha was losing her cool.

“And I am done! As I said there is nothing that you should know! Leave me alone!” She did not want to bring her family into her mess. It was already tough for her to go through this and letting anyone know about this would only bring weight to her burden.

“I'm your mother!” Martha screamed. “I deserve to know what you are doing behind my back! Are fucking one of the men?! Why did he save Circe even though he had no reason to save her? Or are you going behind my back and being whore for all?! Is that what it is, right? There is no way things could work the way they did!”

Coronis was tormented after hearing what her mother had to say. Her brain stopped working and all she could hear were her mother's words. They echoed and mocked her over and over again. “Do you really think so lowly of me?” she asked with a low, shivering voice.

Martha scoffed. “What else am I supposed to think of you? Huh? No wonder why people talk about you like a puppet. They must have seen you fooling around.”

Coronis laughed like a maniac. Tears flowed down her cheek as her laughter got higher. “You,” she choked on her words. “You really are something else! This place, this hell of a place sees every single person with a cunt as a puppet that they can fuck and throw around! But you are so wrong about me. I can't believe you call me your daughter and yet you know nothing about me! Even if I don't tell you something that does not concern you, you should have some faith in me. I spend my time making sure you all are not hurt. I even take care of Circe and beg for mercy just to keep this family alive!” her breath huffed. She felt like someone was holding her neck and choking her to death. “Do you want to know what is going on?” She took sharp steps towards her mother. “Do you want to know about the locket? Okay then, listen to me carefully… I won't repeat myself ever again.”

Martha listened to Coronis. She told her every single detail of what she had been going through since the day she made eye contact with him. Mother's heart slowly started to break until it was totally shattered beneath her feet. She regretted every single insult she threw at her daughter. She could not put her voice into words, they were too hurtful. She had never been in Coronis's place. She could not relate to what she was saying.

“Do you even know what it feels like to get watched every moment? To feel someone's eyes on you constantly?! I can't even breathe without someone noting it down. I'm tired! Okay?! I am not being a whore around! I'm just trying to survive without troubling any of you!” Coronis wiped her tears. “You know what? Don't talk to me for a while. I need time for myself.”

With that, she barged into her slot and banged her door closed, leaving no room for any more connections.

Since that day, Martha started to overly protect the house. She would cover the windows all the time, the shack always looked gloomy and that scared Circe. This was exactly why she didn’t want to tell her about the whole ordeal.

Martha’s paranoia was making everyone sceptical of things and Coronis was devastated. She had to make excuses on behalf of her mother to justify her actions. She would try to minimize Coronis's outside trips to the market which only made her work lousier. She was limited on material for the bread, too, just because her mother was not letting her out.

It wasn't saving Coronis. She had a feeling that this might end up stabbing her in the back.

…

The loud thud of the dungeon door echoed under the castle ground. The footsteps were coming closer with every second, making everyone around eerily silent.

Boisterous dungeon.

It was a place where his majesty played his wicked games. No one wanted to be called in this place. Only the people working in the castle knew what brutality happened there. This was the core of hell.

“Amos,” a raspy voice of his majesty resounded in the dungeon, making every single soul shiver. “Long time, no see… Hm? Where have you been?” He asked as he stepped in front of the man who was chained up. His hands were locked above his head with heavy chains, and his feet were chained to the ground.

The dungeon was reflecting orange from the flames of the flame torches hanging on the walls. There was no window or anything from where the natural light could come in. Anyone could go crazier than before if they spent a few days in it. It was a death trap in itself. And the king just made it stay true to it.

Amos trembled like a leaf. “L-lord Jeon, f-for-forgive me pl-please,” he begged.

He chuckled at his pathetic words. Circling him around, he held the tied man’s cheek in his hand and caressed it with his thumb. The blood drained from his face. From far away, they might look like a couple into freaky kinks. One was naked and tied up and the other's torso was bare.

“Ah…” his highness sighed. “I have been itching to feel you against my skin, Amos. Finally, I can touch you.” His hand ran down his chest, digging his nails into his skin. “Why are you scared of me, hm? What is it that you wronged? Tell me… I might let you go,” he whispered near his ear.

“Y-you will?” Amos asked.

“Mhm, why can't I make an exception for my best man,” he made a little distance between them, “In the end, you are one of my men… So come on, be a good man and tell me everything.”

Amos thought for a moment before gulping. He looked into his dark, maniacal orbes. There was an odds for him to get away with this. “I… Um, I said th- things th-that I shouldn't have.”

“What are those things, Amos,” his sweet voice relaxed the weak man. “Say it all.” He walked towards a table in the corner of the dingy place and opened it, back facing Amos. The King sounded like a lover with that honey-kissed voice he spoke with.

“I said that his grace l-looked… Looked,” he coughed. “Looked… Like fine meat.”

“Mhm, keep going,” he said. “And tell me why you said that?”

“The day when you checked up on her grace for the first time, I saw her,” he hesitated. “I saw her naked.”

His Highness giggled like a child. “Yeah? I think I brought you with me so that you could keep an eye outside… Not inside.”

“It was a misfortune!” he quickly exclaimed. “I was just checking on you but my eyes fell on her form!”

“Okay,” he sighed and frowned his lips. “I think I heard you say something the day she was begging for mercy.”

Amos's last hope left his body just when his words left his mouth and turned around with a lethal smirk and a hunting knife in his hand.

In the light whispers of the village, the painful cries of a child echoed for a person named Coronis. He was on his horse along with his men when these cries distracted him from his work. Though, he would not usually go and check it himself knowing his men are doing their work when someone becomes a hurdle in their way.

However, he caught a familiar figure running towards the crowd and fought her way into the deeper core. His body worked before his mind could and guided his horse there.

The back of his man was towards him and was holding a little girl who was wailing. Then he heard a voice that broke his stone heart a little. He squinted and saw another woman who was begging on her knees and hands folded.

“Please, I beg your mercy! She is a child. She doesn't know much. Please, let her go! Take me instead! Kill me, not her!”

It was her.

All he could see was red. Who had the audacity of making his pretty girl beg such a low caste? He could not bear seeing her beg like this in front of the whole village. He could see how she let herself down for a child that now he felt hostility toward.

He hated the child for bringing this situation to his sweet girl. He wanted to strangle her and make her realize but knew better than that. Coronis would not like it.

So he did a good job as he got off his horse and pulled his sword out. They say when you pull your sword out of the sheath, it yearns for blood. It screams bloody murder and who is he to make his sword pity for it. He would give whatever his sword wants. Just like that, when he took his next breath, he took one away.

The whole village fell silent. Not a single being dared to utter a word. Never in a million years has this happened. But he was not the one to explain himself to anyone. He was about to turn around when Coronis kneeled in front of him and thanked him for sparing that ungrateful girl’s life. And she cried and cried loudly.

Through all of this chaos, he heard Amos say something that made his eye twitch.

“She looks so fine begging like this. I would fuck her when I can make her beg for mercy like this,” Amos had whispered.

“You called it upon yourself, Amos,” he chuckled. “I don't care why you hid away from me because it is the least of my worries. But do you really think that you can look at my princess and fucking fantasize about her like this?! See her naked like that and expect me to be fine with it? Thinking about fucking a girl that is mine, do you even realize who you are playing with?”

Amos could not get a word out. He knew he was done for. It was too late to defend himself from anything his useless mouth said or button eyes saw.

The King held the tied man’s chin tightly, “you looked at her with these eyes, right? You saw her naked with these eyes. I don't think you deserve them anymore, Amos.” He whispered.

The utter panic painted Amos's face. The dread settled in much clearer than before. He came aware of what was going to happen and he was sweating out of it. “No, no no. Please, I beg you. Please! I have got a wife and kids to take care of!”

“Where were they when you were thinking about fucking my princess?!” The King roared. “Did you not think of them when you were eyeing what was mine!?”

“Please have mercy on me, I will be better. I won't look around! Please!”

A wicked smirk widened on his face, “isn't it great that I'm the last person you are going to see?” he said as he brought his knife closer to his eyes. “Now let's say goodbye to these.”

“No!” a piercing scream echoed throughout the castle, shaking the hearts of all. They were accompanied by the loud laughter of the King who was enjoying tearing apart every single vein in the traitor's body.

The King wanted him to remember this in his next life. He wanted his soul to fear and tremble every time. Nobody could get away from him. And he wanted this to be copied into everyone's useless brains.

The knife did not show any mercy. Just like other times, it gashed the quavering man again and again. His eyes were gone, his throat was cut open. There were punctures in his heart. But the King did not stop.

“This. Is. What. You. Get. For. Messing. With. Me,” he screamed. His irises were blown out, his eyes were bloodshot, his face red from rage, and body covered in blood. He enjoyed it. He loved the metallic scent on him. He laughed and laughed like a madman that he was.

No one, absolutely no one could stand in front of him let alone think about touching his obsession. His ego was hurt. Even though Amos knew that that girl belonged to his highness, he still dared to think of touching her in ways that only he could. It was a shame on the king and he was rectifying that now.

His men or not, he did not care. The only thing he cared about now was Coronis and nothing else. There was no other being that he cared about. “Fucking remember this for an eternity, you bloody bastard. Never ever raise your eyes towards my princess!” he made sure that the dead man would get nightmares filled with him, haunting every single day and reminding him of his sins. “You let me down, Amos. I thought you were my loyal dog but you just turned out to be a fucking filth who pissed on me,” he stabbed him again and again. “You wanted your useless filthy dick inside of a goddess, now take this. This is what you get for thinking like that. She is mine and only mine. Get this thing into your thick skull!”

After hours, everything fell silent. He was sitting there in the puddle of fresh blood that he drained. He was feeling delighted again. The ego hicked above the skies. He kept looking at the man whose insides were hanging out. He loved it. He loved how pathetic loser was dead and cut open in front of him. He loved how he could see the gashes on his organs and how the blood was draining out of them like water out of bucket. This is what he loved. He wanted to do more but he had better things to do tonight.

He wanted to see how his little princess was doing. She was clouding his mind all the time. Her face would appear in front of his eyes all the time. Regardless of what he was doing, he would think about her and pause every thing. No one had enough balls to make him do otherwise. All he cared for was his little princess who needed to be protected by any means and he was there to do it.

Not a single person could get in between them. Or else he would make sure they met a worse fate than Amos. More painful death than anyone ever before.

“You are only mine, my love. Once I get to keep you, nothing will ever separate us. I'll make sure you love me and I love you till the very end. I'm not playing only to see you walk away. I'm playing to get you and keep you forever with me, hidden away from the nasty world. We are one and you can not deny it, my precious.”

The King walked out of the dungeon and handed his soaked knife to one of the guards. “You know better what to do next,” he said and walked away, his chest painted in blood and a satisfied smile on his face.

He wanted to make sure everyone knew what could happen to those who look at his princess in a way no one but only he could.

“Do not ever dare to reach the thing that is mine.”

.....

Sanaa's note:

It took me a little longer to finish this chapter😅. But it's done now (phew). My flat is about 80% done. Hopefully, I'll be able to sleep in my own bed today or tomorrow. But anyhow, how are you guys? Did you enjoy this chapter? Let me know! Your feedback motivates me a lot and makes me write even more. I love you all! Feel free to talk to me and send an ask! 😊

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jjkreblog @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby

Have a nice day/night💓

217 notes · View notes

companion-showdown · 1 month

Text

Who is the best companion to get intoxicated with?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

#intoxication: round 3

155 notes · View notes

chaotic-orphan · 24 days

Text

Intoxicating Fear (Xiv)

Wake up call

Continued from // Masterpost

This one was a struggle, I’m not happy with the end of it, but… the first half is good enough

*~*~*~*~*

Kit woke in the middle of the night, his head on fire as if there was poison lacing through it. He lurched to the side of the bed, rolling over the damp sheets sweat clinging to his forehead and hair. He hit the ground on his hands and knees, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and resting his forehead on the cool wooden floor of his bedroom.

He groaned, nausea climbing up his throat that he fought not to throw up. What would he even throw up? Bile? He hadn’t eaten anything all day.

Fuck… Kit let out another moan of pain, the terrible clanging pain of it quieting from the hammer on an anvil level pounding. Slowly, dreadfully slowly, Kit sat back on his hips, raising his head to try and sit vertically. He shivered as he set his shoulders against his bed frame, his sweat freezing on his skin, teeth chattering as he looked to his clock.

6.15 a.m.

He needed to get something, painkillers something, water— anything. He grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked it up over his head, throwing it down beside him on the floor. It landed with a heavy wet slap, but Kit didn’t care. He did the same with his bottoms and pushed himself to his feet, his muscles aching as he walked to his wardrobe and grabbed some fresh pyjamas, pulling them on. Some fresh socks.

The house was almost expectant, eerie, as Kit opened his door and padded down the hall, hand on the railing as he took the stairs. As if the house had been woken with Kit’s nightmare or… something. It felt like he had eyes on him, but he didn’t care enough to investigate the shadows peeking at him in his mind.

He grabbed the painkillers, filled a glass with water and turned to walk back up the stairs. Rain pattered heavy against the roof, wind creaking the gutters and trees outside. The changing shadows were just that, shadows as the dawn tried to yawn awake. The skies oppressed with the rainclouds and poor weather, and Kit fell asleep before first light broke, curling up in Mentor’s bed, arms wrapped around himself, shivering to sleep while the house’s shadows watched over him.

Kit woke again later with that same ear shattering headache that drew a cry from his throat. He didn’t wake in a cold sweat like last time, but the headache was somehow worse like a migraine. The pressure was unbelievable and it felt as if someone had reached inside his skull and took his brain, squeezing it in the palm of their hands like putty and Kit opened his eyes as a single name crossed his mind: Ambrose.

“Motherfucker,” Kit ground out as he got his feet on the ground, the room swaying as he stood. Shit… where did he leave his phone? Kit’s feet stumbled forward just before he reached the door, hand flying out to catch himself on the wall. He wasn’t going to make it downstairs if Ambrose didn’t at least let up a bit.

I’m coming! Kit thought as loud as he could, over the thunderous rolling of sound and pressure. He didn’t even know if Ambrose’s power worked like that. How far was his reach? Could he even hear Kit’s thoughts from so far away? Kit paused at the railing of the stairs, white knuckled grip keeping him upright.

The headache lessened in pressure, but remained there in the back of his mind, thrumming impatient for Kit to reach his phone. Kit walked down the stairs carefully, dreading every step closer he got to his phone. He turned it on and waited for the screen to reboot. There’s no way Ambrose knew where he was, did he? Did he have to be close for his power to work? Or did it just matter that he was in the city — could his reach be that strong?

Kit had only put his pin to unlock the phone in when Ambrose’s name flashed across his phone. Kit answered after the fourth ring, just to piss him off.

“What?”

“Christopher!”

“My name’s not Christopher, Rosey.”

“Fine, Mallory,” Ambrose drawled, far too chirper for Kit who was just dragged out of bed. “You slept in.”

“I would have slept longer if you weren’t so fucking needy.”

“I did knock first, but you weren’t answering your door.”

Kit froze, turning his head to the front door. “I didn’t hear you,” Kit said, voice thankfully even.

“That’s fine. You can see why I went to plan B then. Just let me in now, it’s cold outside.”

Kit didn’t answer. A beat passed between them. Then, “Kit. I’m waiting.”

Kit licked his lips. “Can you even force me over the phone?”

Ambrose laughed a cold, humourless chuckle. He didn’t answer, instead he said: “Kit, open the front door.”

Apparently he could. Kit felt his feet carry him forward, his heart thundering in his ears, because what if Ambrose knew where he was? What if he was waiting outside that door? Kit didn’t want him in his house. His childhood home, where he had countless memories with Mentor.

Kit swallowed hard as his hand settled on the lock. It clicked open and Kit opened the door. He let out a small laugh as he did, seeing his porch empty of any sadistic villain.

“Kit, I’m getting impatient.”

“I opened the door, Rosey,” Kit told him. Kit felt a sudden sharp streak run through his mind, as if searching for a lie.

“I told you that you weren’t allowed to run, or disappear,” Ambrose said. Kit could hear the cold anger in his voice and could imagine Ambrose’s face right now.

“Maybe you’re losing your touch, Omen,” Kit said with a laugh. “Better luck next time. I’m going back to bed.”

“Kit—!”

“Bye, Rosey. Have a nice day.”

Kit pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up on the bastard when Ambrose’s voice rang out again. “Do you want me to find that water Hero instead, Kit? Oh, what was their name? Tides?”

Kit’s thumb hovered over the red end call button, his heart hammering against his chest. He should hang up. He should hang up. He wanted to hang up. Hasn’t he suffered enough? Wasn’t it somebody else’s turn to suffer the sadist?

His hand was shaking and he wanted to scream. Just end the call! It’s not your fault what a fucking Villain does. You can’t control his actions. Nobody would ever know that you could’ve saved Tides, it would be a tragic accident and—

Mentor’s face flashed through Kit’s mind and he balled his free hand into a fist at his side. Did he really want to have to visit two people in hospital, especially when he could have prevented one of them from being there in the first place?

“Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick—”

“Fine!” Kit spat into the phone. He could almost see Ambrose’s horrible smile.

“If you are not at your apartment in an hour, I will make good on my threat, Mallory. See you soon.”

Ambrose hung up. Kit stared at his reflection in the black screen of his phone and cursed, slamming the door shut and letting out a long, guttural: “FUCK!”

His voice crackled and echoed with electricity, his phone like a battery in his hand that he was draining. He let out a breath, straightening and focused on moving the charge back into his phone until the screen blinked up at him.

Fuck, at this rate he would need to wear power dampeners just to ensure he didn’t cause any power outages on the way back to his apartment. His apartment… His apartment where Ambrose was waiting, and probably pissed off.

God… how long had he been free of the bastard? Two, three days? Such a short amount of peace, and the first day Kit had spent most of it sleeping! He didn’t even consider enjoying it because exhaustion had forced him into bed.

Kit had a quick shower and left, taking the metro back to his apartment. The entire way his mind raced with the sheer power that Ambrose possessed. How was any Hero ever meant to beat him? To defeat him?

A smaller voice in his mind echoed a poignant: how will I ever defeat him?

But… No, if Ambrose was really as strong as he wanted Kit to believe then he would have taken over the city at any given moment. He could have wiped the minds of the city’s entire population and made them think that Ambrose was the number one hero, and why stop there? Why not the mayor? Or something else more grandiose and Ambrose-y.

No… There’s no way Ambrose would just let the world be if he could do that on such scale. There had to be something local about his ability. Some restraint. Something that stops him from controlling whoever he wants, whenever he wants.

The information didn’t stop his palms from sweating, or the dread from building in his stomach as he came to his stop. The doors opened with a soft whoosh and a creak and Kit stepped out into the underground. His apartment was a five minute walk from here.

He checked his watch. He still had fifteen minutes. He could hang back for a minute, maybe dawdle away some of the time so he wouldn’t have to see Ambrose again for as long as he possibly could. Then Mentor flashed through his mind again and he found himself ascending the steps to street level and walking towards his apartment.

Towards Ambrose.

Towards Omen.

Towards his tormentor.

His heart shudders to a stop when he sees Ambrose in his charcoal overcoat he wore the first day Kit met him on the docks. No doubt he was wearing some expensive suit beneath.

He looked so out of place in front of Kit’s small white block of apartments. He looked too much like a stranger, a foreigner who wasn’t properly acquainted with the style this side of town — as if Ambrose had just walked the wrong side of the river and was about to knock for directions.

Kit’s apartment was on the rougher side of the city because he liked it that way, and too many times he had seen people who dressed like Ambrose getting jumped or mugged on the street in certain alleyways.

Kit almost scoffed at the thought of someone jumping Ambrose. He pitied the imaginary thief who would cross Ambrose’s path.

You crossed my path, Kit.

Kit blinked then stopped. Ambrose was standing on the small path that led up to Kit’s apartment on the second floor. His back was turned to Kit, standing relaxed beside the railing. Ambrose knew that he was here and he didn’t turn his head to show he knew.

You’re so dramatic.

Ambrose turned his head this time, his dark eyes capturing Kit’s and smiling. Tick, tock, tick—

Kit started walking after that. He didn’t want to give the bastard any reason to go after Tides. He checked his phone for the time to see he still had four minutes. He took a breath as he ascended the steps to where Ambrose stood waiting patiently.

Ambrose regarded him with a cool look. “Where were you?”

“Not here.”

Ambrose stared at him for a beat. Then he said, “fine. Open the door.”

Kit didn’t fight his body as it obeyed the command. To be honest he was happy he didn’t have to look at Ambrose for those few precious seconds, his alabaster skin closer to some statue than an actual human.

The lock opened with a click. Kit pushed down on the handle and the moment the door cracked open, Ambrose shoved him inside. Kit stumbled forward, half expecting the attack and turned to face Ambrose once he regained his footing.

Ambrose smiled coldly at him, closing the door behind him and locking it again. “Kit,” he said with a drawn out sigh. “I trusted you to obey the terms of our deal.”

“No, you forced me to obey the terms of our deal,” Kit snapped in reply. “And if you fucked up the terms in the first place, it’s not my fault.”

Ambrose took a step forward, and Kit fought himself not to match it with one back. “Where were you, Kit?”

“If you thought I was just going to wait here like a little puppy for you to drop in whenever you feel like it and torture me, you are sorely mistaken.”

Ambrose clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I knew it was too premature to trust you with your freedom. You’re still so defiant. What have you got left to prove?”

“If you think I’m just going to obey every command you—”

“Get on your knees.”

Kit’s knees hit the floor before he realised what happened. He had only begun to push himself up when Ambrose’s black eyes flashed above him, his lips that horrible red against his marble skin. “Stay on your knees.”

“You’re a fucking—”

“Bark.”

Kit did his best imitation of a dog. He could feel the humiliation crawl pink up his neck at the sound.

“Look at me,” Ambrose said, and Kit glared up at him, fists balling by his sides. “See how you obey every command for me? You’re so good at it, like a little puppy.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“I wouldn’t have had to do any of this if you just told me where you were hiding.”

Kit’s lips curled back into a snarl. “Make me!”

Ambrose clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and walked past Kit. Kit turned his head, but stared back at the door when Ambrose told him to not turn around. He could hear Ambrose taking his jacket off behind him and laying it somewhere. Then he heard the sound of his tap turning on, and a moment later the click of the kettle.

Kit’s lips curled up viciously, his nose crinkling at the sound. What the fuck was Ambrose doing?! It’s ridiculous. Well fuck that. Fuck him. Kit reached for the electricity in his kettle and pulled it from the plug. The kettle stopped thrumming. Ambrose sighed behind Kit and shoes clacking off the wooden floors got closer and closer until Kit could feel Ambrose standing behind him.

“Show me your electricity,” said Ambrose.

“No,” Kit said.

“Show me your electricity, Kit,” Ambrose said again, and this time against his will, Kit’s fingers clicked the spark into his hand and he held up his arm for Ambrose to inspect.

Ambrose hummed behind him. “It’s not red anymore.” Ambrose walked around Kit to face him, and stared down into his eyes. “Hmm.”

“What?” Kit snapped.

Ambrose reached his hand forward and pressed his finger to Kit’s forehead. Kit shivered as the familiar ice cold sludge of Ambrose’s power flooded his brain and his electricity stopped cackling in his hand. The kettle thrummed to life again, back to boiling and Kit stared mutinously ahead at his floor.

“Good lad. You haven’t forgotten the futility of struggling in my absence it seems. You can stand up now.”

Ambrose walked back to the kitchen, but Kit stayed on his knees for another moment before getting to his feet. He walked to his table and sat down at it, running a hand down his face as he watched Ambrose get two mugs from the cupboard and grab the instant coffee.

He hated seeing him. He hated seeing Ambrose so at home in his apartment, as if they were roommates or friends. He wanted so bad to just murder him in that second, but the heaviness of being back here, under Ambrose’s control it was… exhausting. Kit was so tired and it hadn’t been what? Ten minutes yet? Twenty?

“You should really think about getting a cafetière Kit. The coffee is better than instant.”

“Sure, i’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh come on now, you’re not already defeated are you? Are you sulking?”

“Sure.”

Ambrose hummed his disapproval but didn’t say anything else in reply. He walked to the fridge and opened the door, his eyes going to the milk and grabbing it. He frowned staring down at the expiry date. The 21st… that was four… five days ago? Ambrose’s frown deepened as he put the milk back in the fridge and closed the door. His eyes skimming over Kit at his table, expression dazed.

He hadn’t been home in days, or he would have noticed his expired milk. Interesting.

Kit only snapped back into reality when Ambrose placed a cup of steaming black liquid in front of him. “Thanks.”

“Oh Kit, don’t be so glum. This was our deal, right? Your life for a couple visits a week.”

Kit let out a deep sigh as he grabbed his mug closer and stared down into his coffee. Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want this. He wanted Kit to have more life, not less.

“So,” Ambrose began, schooling his features into a more neutral expression. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“My life, right?” Kit said, his eyes finally raising to meet Ambrose’s black ones. “That means you don’t ask about it.”

“Oh come on, tell me what you did while I was gone. The first thing you did.”

Kit immediately thought of his minor breakdown the second Ambrose left and he grimaced, setting his lips into a thin line and bringing the mug into his hands letting it hover just beside his lips.

“I went for a run.”

“And how was your run?”

“It felt… good.” Kit wasn’t lying. The run was the one thing that kept him sane after his minor meltdown. He hoped Ambrose was true to his word and staying out of his mind. Otherwise he would see everything… just in case Kit tried his best to make his mind go blank.

“Now, see? It felt good. I give you back your life, your autonomy in return for a few visits, I’m not unreasonable Kit.”

Kit scoffed and took a sip of his coffee.

“What else did you do? Where did you go?”

Kit stared down at his coffee. Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Do I have to force everything out of you, Kit? I have no qualms about using my powers on you as you know. In fact, I quite enjoy it.”

“I went to see my mentor,” Kit snapped, eyes locking onto Ambrose’s black ones. “Happy now?”

Ambrose smiled. “Ecstatic. How is Superhero?”

Kit’s grip tightened on his mug of coffee. Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Was Superhero not your mentor?”

Kit set his jaw and looked away. Ambrose wouldn’t know, of course he wouldn’t know. As far as Ambrose knew, Mentor was before Kit’s time. Before Kit ever became a hero. Ambrose probably thought Kit came up through the ranks with Superhero, not Mentor.

And if that’s true then that means Ambrose wouldn��t know what Mentor meant to Kit, and Kit liked it better that way.

“I thought I said I don’t want to talk about my life outside of you,” he said instead of telling Ambrose to fuck off.

Ambrose hummed. “Look at me, Kit.”

Kit obeyed, swallowing as his eyes found Ambrose’s. The two black pools seemed to swirl like a storm, drawing Kit further and further in until he was lost in their abyss.

“I don’t want—”

“I don’t care,” Ambrose cut in, effectively silencing Kit’s protests. “Answer me honestly, is Superhero your mentor?”

“Why do you care?!” Kit snarled.

The corner of Ambrose’s lips tilted up slightly. “I care because you’re trying to hide something from me, and you know how much I love—”

“Torturing people, yeah I know.”

Ambrose sat back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders casually. “Always the hard way.”

Kit’s brows furrowed at the villain. Shit.

“Tell me who your mentor is, Kit.”

“Why?” Kit asked, anger leaking from his voice, replaced with a guarded almost pleading sadness.

“Because you’re protesting too much.”

“Please,” Kit whispered then froze. Ambrose froze too. Then his lips turned up into his smirk and Kit knew Ambrose was going to force him to tell him about Mentor.

“Tell me who-”

It was Kit’s turn to cut Ambrose off. “Mentor,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Ambrose’s eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows twitching up in surprise, his lips slightly parted, froze mid-sentence.

A moment of silence passed between them. The moment turned into a minute, and Kit just closed his eyes and drank his coffee in the silence. He could feel and hear the cogs working in Ambrose’s head trying to match the timelines up and coming up blank.

“You’re joking,” Ambrose said eventually. Kit looked away, it felt as if someone had a hand around their heart and squeezed it. “Oh. I see. You’re not joking… but Mentor was Superhero before—”

“Yeah,” said Kit. “I know.”

“Then—”

Kit’s scoff cut Ambrose off, his eyes going back to Ambrose’s. “What? You want my whole tragic backstory, Rosey?” He asked with a sardonic smile. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“Mallory, I—”

“Didn’t know?” Kit supplied, his voice rising in pitch. “You didn’t know? Does it look like I give two shits about what you know or not?! I don’t need your false pity, or your remorse for your actions, Omen, because we both know you don’t mean it.”

Ambrose’s expression darkened. His features schooled into neutrality, but Kit could read him by now. The subtle too-tight wind of his jaw, the coolness in his eyes, Ambrose was pissed and he was about to take it out on Kit. Honestly? Kit didn’t care. He preferred it when Ambrose was cruel to him, at least then he didn’t have to think about Ambrose possibly having human emotions, or being human at all.

When Ambrose was hurting Kit he was just a villain, and Kit could hate him completely without second guessing himself.

Ambrose stood up and Kit braced himself for impact, whatever it was. Then Ambrose grabbed his jacket, and walked towards Kit’s front door. Kit frowned, staring after the villain. “Hey! Where’re—”

“I’ll see you later, Kit.”

The door opened and closed. Kit flinched, his heart pounding in his chest and his thoughts racing through his brain.

Mainly: what the hell was that all about?

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper r @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl l @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @acer-gaysimpstuff @m3rakii @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @blood-enthusiast t @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @andtheysaidspeaknoww @dutifullykrispyland @mononeigbour @lovethiswriting

57 notes · View notes

manicpixiefelix · 4 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 5.

Summary: Reader, Oliver, and the mortifying ordeal of being known. Plus clubbing, costume parties, and Oliver being a fucking tease.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: drinking/intoxication/drug use

A/N: 3148 words. now we're cooking with gas, folks! i might be too sleepy for a real author's note, but just know, as always, its unedited and i love you. have fun, please let me know what you think!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

"Can I be bold for a minute?" On the roof of one of the dorm buildings, you and Oliver are waiting for Felix. It's twilight, the sky painted lavender by the setting sun and encroaching night, and everything feels a little dreamy.

"If anyone would appreciate boldness, Ollie, it's me," you tell him blithely around the cigarette you're trying to light. Still, he's quiet for this one moment, watching the way you cup your hand around the little flame to shield it from the wind.

"How did you and Farleigh ever get so close, considering how he treats you?"

You're pretty sure you know why he's asking you, considering what few interactions he'd witnessed between yourself and Farleigh, but it's still unexpected coming from him. For a moment, your gaze flicks to him, eyes narrowed, not quite sure what to make of the interaction. When your gaze meets his, he's looking at you with that intent, inquisitive look he got in moments like these, moments he seemed to fish for information without seeming like that was what he was doing. The silence and look that you level at him seem to throw him off guard, and immediately he drops his gaze to his feet, swinging off the edge of the building.

"That is bold," you finally settle on, watching Oliver fidget. His ankles cross, his shoulders slump; again he makes himself as small as possible. You deliberately make your tone lighter when you continue, "what's got you worried 'bout me an Farleigh?"

"I mean, all I'm saying is that he was being nasty to you, but now you're both kind of acting like he wasn't."

It's true; since his apology that Sunday morning Farleigh had been keeping his word about not being too bitter about Oliver to or even around you and Felix. You, in turn, made a special effort to spend time with him, pay him attention, made him feel like your priority on occasion. Both you and Farleigh were well aware of what you were doing, but he always enjoyed your company and attention, so it wasn't like he was going to complain.

"Farleigh and I understand each other."

"He slept with your girlfriend."

"India's not my girlfriend."

"He- he keeps calling you a dog."

That hit a nerve. You hadn't realised he was paying attention to that back at the pub. You swallow hard and look out at the horizon.

"And?" Raising the cigarette to your lips again, you don't look at him as you take a very long drag on it, "there are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," you breathe out with the smoke.

"Doesn't seem like the way friends should talk about each other is all," Oliver says quietly, notes of apology in his voice; you can see him looking at you again out of the corner of your eye.

"Best friend, actually," you finally sigh, letting the tension drop from your shoulders and the moment. As you look at him over your shoulder, you give a faint smile in the face of his confusion, "we've known each other long enough that we can say pretty much anything we want to each other. Only problem is that Farleigh knows that pushing my buttons also pushes Fi's buttons, which is why he does it so often. He's a shit-stirrer, but you haven't known us long enough to know he doesn't really mean it," you tell him with surprising fondness in your voice.

"I'm sorry for prying," Oliver says earnestly, and you smile wider.

"I'm sorry for being so defensive; I realise how it must look from the outside."

Before anything else can be said, the door to the roof bursts open, and Felix greets you both with a hundred-watt smile and a packet of fish and chips in his hands. You descend on him like a seagull, swapping your cigarette for the hot food, tearing into the paper wrapping and settling by the wall at the edge of the roof near Oliver once more.

There's a beat where Felix is watching you and Oliver, his smile soft and fond and endeared, but there's something in his eyes that's been there since that lunched they'd shared at the pub -

"I shouldn't say -" there's a lot of things Felix shouldn't do that he does anyways. Considering his wealth, he could get away with a lack of self control, "I just genuinely didn't know, I mean I might have guessed- did you know?"

"Know what, Fi?" You're still in his bed, bleary-eyed and desperately wanting to go back to sleep when he'd come back from the pub buzzing instead of tired, as he'd predicted.

He'd spent the better part of the afternoon with his head on your chest, explaining the almost Dickensian tragedy that was Oliver's life. Sure you were listening, but you didn't have much to contribute other than faint noises of interest while your fingers carded through his hair.

There's something about the way Felix recounts all this information to you, the way he finds it salacious and heart-breaking all in one. You can hear in his voice that he'd captivated, that he's endeared by the struggle that has followed Oliver throughout his life. As much as you loved him, you'd watched time and again the way he'd fall for tragic tales and the people who'd recount them; Felix had a saviour complex, and it was the only thing the two of you had ever fought about.

Last year it had been Eddie, the worst of the bunch so far. Like Oliver but in the opposite direction; too much, too loud, too confident to hide his ugly secrets and desperation to be wanted. Eddie had been Icarus, taking for granted the wax wings Felix had given him, the good life, attention, a comrade who almost understood him. But he'd played with fire, played with Venetia too many times, and the wax wings melted. Not that you'd cared; you were the one who spotted them, you were the one that told Farleigh, you were the one who listened to Felix's furious rants every few days for the rest of that Summer. You'd never liked Eddie like Felix liked Eddie.

Oliver was different. You wondered if he was different enough.

Still, as much as you liked Oliver you could see it in Felix's eyes, hear it in his voice; he was already getting himself addicted to the idea of how much better he could make Oliver's life. But Felix had hated it the last time you'd pointed something like that out.

("Then why the fuck would I keep you around? Maybe it's because I don't pick my friends based on whether they're charity cases!")

So you keep your mouth shut. Maybe it's worth it for the way Felix smiles -

"I don't -" Oliver's fidgeting when Felix asks him to tag along to a costume party, "have anything to wear, really," he admits. Immediately Felix is offering to let him borrow something. There's a flicker that looks almost hungry in Oliver's eyes amid the gratefulness, and you wonder if he knows how many people would kill to get into Felix's pants. Still, he's humble, "you don't have to do that."

"I don't have to do anything," Felix shrugs with the easiest smile in the world. Then, in the next sentence, completely glossing over the act of kindness he looks at you, "tell me you aren't still expecting Farleigh to commit to that devil costume with you."

"He told me he'd put effort in this year -"

"He tells you that every year," Felix laughs, and you lean into Oliver's shoulder to explain.

"Me and Farleigh always organise to go to one costume party per year as an angel and a devil -"

"And every year," Felix rolls his eyes with a good-natured exasperation, "Farleigh wears some vulgar t-shirt and two party hats for horns, while Y/N puts weeks of effort in and wins best dressed every time-"

"Not every time," you protested, while Oliver looked faintly impressed, leaning back against you too.

"The only times you haven't won best dressed was if there was no competition to win," Felix points out, before looking past you to Oliver with an amused smile, "so I can't promise you a Y/N-level of costume, but it'll be more than two party hats."

"If you wanna give me two party hats, I'll wear 'em," Oliver says, hands coming up as if to placate the both of you. Instead, you grin wider, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"We'll make you all pretty, Ollie, don't worry."

Unsurprisingly, on the night of the party, Farleigh showed up to 'get ready' at your dorm, which meant him lazing on your bed, drinking and sharing his coke with you while you put arguably too much effort into your makeup. He, of course, is wearing two party hats, and t-shirt that simply says 'EASY', and though you pretend to be annoyed for all of five minutes, he gives a shit eating grin as you chew him out.

"Fool you once, shame on me, sure; fool you six times, that's on you, Y/N."

You flipped him off with a grin.

"There they are!" India cheers from the sofas where your other friends are gathered when you arrive to the party. Farleigh, on your arm, makes a show of his entrance, "not you, Farleigh, obviously." India rolls her eyes, but thankfully Farleigh wasn't too put out. Instead, he swans towards the group to claim a seat.

"Give us a spin, angel," Annabel insists with a coy smile, and you oblige her to the whistles and cheers of the rest of your friends.

"You outdo yourself," Felix told you fondly as you dropped into a beanbag by the sofa he and Oliver had been occupying.

Felix is looking at you, that kind of dangerous look when he thinks you're especially hot and there's only a thirty percent chance that the two of you will even make it to a dark corner. For just a moment, however, your gaze flicks to Oliver, by his side, and he's watching Felix too, absolutely rapt by the way your best friend looks at you.

"Only in comparison to Farleigh," you shake your head, forcing yourself to be Felix's self restraint, especially so early in the night, "besides, look at you; you've certainly grown into this since I last saw you try it on," and you leaned forward as best you could, looking across the circle of friends to the pretty, redhead in the slinky nurse outfit, "how fucking good does Felix look, Annabel?" You ask pointedly, and you can see Felix give a restrained chuckle before turning his attention to his own not-girlfriend, who seemed glad for the chance to gush about him.

Sitting back, you chance a glance once more at Oliver, and somehow aren't surprised to see him looking back at you. All you do is smirk, well aware of what you were doing.

Felix's clothes are too big on Oliver. The costume, though you're not exactly sure what he's meant to be, kind of wears him instead of the other way around. Felix, of course, looks all kinds of gorgeous as a police officer, while Oliver looked rather like he's wearing his big brother's hand-me-downs. But he's rolls up the sleeves and always looks up at Felix with these blue, doe eyes shining with gratefulness, and no-one else cares enough to comment either way.

You wonder if anyone else has noticed, the way Oliver's personality changes with his focus. It's not in large ways, perhaps others think its like a trick of the light, but the way he looks at others, the way he behaves, it seems to vary from person to person. Tactile, distant, closed off, hesitant, open, honest, warm, skittish, never truly the same with each individual. It's like he watches, figures out what people want to hear, what they want from him, and does his best to give it to them. It's almost painfully familiar.

Oliver gives Felix what he wants in a way you know you never can; Oliver gives him someone to help, someone to feel like he's saving. As long as Felix is happy, you tell yourself, that is enough, and it's easy to like Oliver in your own way. The only problem you've found is that as much as you like Oliver, as intrigued as you are by him, you can't quite get a read on him, what he wants, what your place may be in his life. He's always watching, always searching for something, but you're never sure of what.

So you decide to show him love, show him appreciation the way you know best.

More and more you choose to stay by his side when you're all out, at the pub, at clubs, either of you are not with Felix, or if you're not otherwise occupied by someone requesting your attention, you'll be with Oliver.

Tonight, at the club, a girl from town had been occupying Felix's personal space for the better part of an hour, and by the time he has her against a wall down a dark corridor, Oliver's absconded from the dance floor to get another drink, but hasn't returned. You find him skulking against a wall, half drunk pint in his hand, gazing out through the crowd. When you join him, when you follow his gaze, you can see the silhouette of Felix and the girl, his hand up her shirt through the haze.

"It doesn't bother you?" Oliver asks, loud enough to be heard over the music, but not by anyone else.

"The girls don't bother me," an easy, languid smile spreads across your face, "the girls love me," you amend, smile turning a little smug as you watch Felix and the girl whose name you can't even been be bothered to recall.

"Felix's girls?* Ever-hesitant Oliver, even here and now, sounds carefully demure amongst his curiosity, "do you -?" He makes an awkward gesture, but you read his intentions and laugh dismissively.

"No, no... well," you pause for a moment, "occasionally I have my fun, I suppose, but not like that; girls who are into Felix aren't traditionally into me like that, no," you shake your head with an an missed smile, "but that's why they like me, I'm not a threat, see?"

Even through the haze and flashing lights, you can see Felix's hands on the girl; he's warm and rough and the way he holds always feels so fucking secure -

Looking away sharply, you're surprised by how intently Oliver's watching you. Its genuinely startling, and though he seems to understand this but doesn't look away. For just a moment your breathless, caught up in the night and the jealousy and want for your best friend that you usually have much more control over - your own words echo in your head; I'm not a threat, see? A smug lie, a joke at all those poor girl's expenses since you knew they were never going to last.

Oliver's gaze burns when you finally look him squarely in the eyes; he knows.

"I get the impression people assume a great many things about our Felix," he wets his lips, casting his gaze to darkened hallway, to where you had seen Felix with his mouth on the neck of his girl of the night, but you can't look away from him. Our Felix. "And about you."

"And you?" Your tongue darts out, wetting you lips as you draw Oliver's attention back to you, tone flirty. There's something exhilarating about this man that you can't help but want to tease out.

"Not much to assume," he gives a faint smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "I'm more the observant type than one whose observed."

"You make the assumptions."

"I make the assumptions," he actually smirks, a bit of that usual gentle hesitation that he approached the world with slipping for just a moment.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Do you have a lot of assumptions about Our Felix?" You tease his earlier wording, but once again his gaze drifts to your best friend, if he still is in the crowd. Them, quieter, almost as if you don't mean to you murmur, "or me?"

"Had."

"Had?"

"Had a lot of assumptions," there's a kind of mischief in his eyes as his tone takes on an air of nonchalance, "'bout him, 'bout you too." As he speaks, you step towards him, hand on his arm, moving steadily higher. He can feel it, you know he can, but all he does is smile wider, refusing to break your gaze.

"Like what, Oliver Quick?"

Leaning in, Oliver takes your face in his hands, bringing you close, sharing breath, lips inches from his.

"Like how they write Odysseys about your kind of loyalty," he mumbled, and you feel like his gaze alone could swallow you whole. There's a aching, yearning that you feel in this moment, when you crush your lips to his. It's quick and desperate, and he pulls back, "like how you show love with every fuckin' bit of that body of yours," this time he pulls you in and it's rougher, it's needy, he bites at your lip and you whimper against his mouth, press yourself against him, "like-" he kisses you quickly, "like- like-" but as you find yourself trailing rough kisses down his jaw, he seems to lose his train of thought.

"Yes?" You prompt with a laugh.

"Like how you're desperate to feel needed."

"Observant," you tell him softly, raising your head, arms still around him. In this moment, his expression is open, watching you, waiting for you to react, "more observant than anyone else."

"You wear it on your sleeve, sweetheart," he says bluntly, but something about being seen, about his unwavering honesty, that sets your heart beating, burning in your chest. Or perhaps it's that he called you sweetheart; it's rare that someone is so sweet to you.

"Then need me, want me."

"I do," this time when he kisses you, it's gentle, full of warmth and unexpected love, and the way he holds you close makes you feel so precious and desired at once, "but not like this, not now." And he's letting you go, despite the way your lips tingle and the damn butterflies in your stomach. You desperately want to cling to him, to ask him what the fuck he means, but he kisses you on the forehead and tells you to get back safe, wearing an almost smug, knowing smile, disappearing into the crowd. You can't even go after him, he's made you damn weak in the knees and all you can do is lean against the wall for support.

Felix and his girl have disappeared.

Your friends are still living it up on the dance floor, you're sure, but you have only one thought on your mind.

Oliver Quick is a fucking tease.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #head heart hand fic #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #manic writer

485 notes · View notes

joshfuckingkiszka · 1 month

Text

𝔇𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 - 𝔍𝔗𝔎

jtk x f!reader

I love this song SO much UGH

warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of fwb situation, hickeys, lil angst

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

Our secret moments in your crowded room They got no idea about me and you

Even though your own gaze had found purchase on the chip in your big toe’s nail polish through your open toed heels, another’s scorched your cheek. His stare was reminiscent of the ones he gave you in the bedroom, and you blushed at the thought. In his deep brown eyes, lay memories of the previous night, which could be found in the left side of your bed, where his shape had stayed because you couldn’t find it in yourself to make it and destroy whatever he had left.

You found that if you stared for too long, the craving for him would become abhorrently intense. By the smirk on his gorgeous face, you knew that he could see how shaky your champagne-filled hand and your deep breaths had become.

In your attempt to make it seem like you weren’t staring for too long - don’t attract too much attention - you realized you had lost him in the crowd. That being, before his long finger was tapping you on the shoulder and for a second, your heart stopped. The fear did not cause the abnormal beat, but his presence did, and everything seemed to halt in that moment.

Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” You rolled your eyes at his saccharine tone.

Caving in, you answered, “I would be more if there weren’t … such a crowd.” Subtle.

“I can see how that would bother you.”

When he offered no explanation, you countered, “How so?”

“Well those bruises peeking out from under all that makeup on your chest looks like they hurt.” You blushed, covering what only he knew was there.

“I told you not to be so … obvious with your … affection,” you lightly scolded him, even though you had practically begged him for them. The same way you would probably beg him later on.

He hummed as a first response, pausing then asking, “New dress?”

“Mhm.” You took a sip of your champagne, your head swimming despite how little you had drunk. “New other things too.”

He couldn’t even reply before Josh was pulling him away, apologizing but insisting his presence was required. You scoffed when you saw Jake clearly playing wingman for Josh, some girl hanging off of his arm, and you downed your drink, heading for another.

At the end of the night, Jake ended up at your apartment once more. The tipsiness was affecting both of you but your drunken kissing was so much more intoxicating.

Everyone thinks that they know us But they know nothing about

“You’re all mine, you know that?” It wasn’t in the normal dominating tone he donned in the bedroom. There was a softness to him in that moment, and he caressed your jaw as he spoke and even after.

You looked at him in earnest, wondering how anyone could ever deserve him. “I know Jakey.”

“I don’t think you do.” He smiled and went back in for another sparkling kiss. He was yours but Jake Kiszka belonged to everyone around him: his brothers, his friends, his fans.

You needed him like you needed the air around you to fill your lungs, and some part of you hoped he needed you in the same way. It was a selfish thought, of course, but you had given up the most needed parts of yourself to him. Your affection was his, your hope was his, your heart, well, I think you know.

When your “relationship,” or whatever it was, first started, you had the generic friends-with-benefits rules: no mouth kissing, no staying the night, no feelings etc. However, as time passed, the rules felt arbitrary, and you had both come to ignore them no matter the personal cost. Jake loved the taste of your lips after a night out with your friends. You loved curling up next to him, and, even more, waking up with him. The feelings were there, yet unspoken. The last rite of passage before it became an official relationship, and neither of you were sure when to take that step. You needed him to confirm what you already held as fact. So much that you were willing to almost ruin it.

Carve your name into my bedpost 'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

“Danny asked me out.” He was silent, and you watched his eyes harden.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “what did you say?” You scoffed.

He could be so dumb when he wanted to be. “Of course, I said no.” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it was.

“Why?” The obvious answer would be that you loved Jake, but that wasn’t even the obvious question. Jake wasn’t asking why you turned his friend down, he was asking why you told him. Truthfully, you weren’t really sure.

Your throat tightened a bit as you spoke, “I just wanted you to know.”

“Know what, exactly?” He asked with a hum and a sharp inquiry of your name.

“I-I don’t know, know that he asked. Know that other people are interested. Know that I feel like I’m losing every sense of self the longer I tell myself that one day you’ll man up and tell me that you love me so I don’t have to keep telling myself!”

Even in my worst lies You saw the truth in me

He softened. “I never meant for that to happen, baby.” Tears had nearly breached the edge of your eye and you wanted them to, to make him feel worse, to know that he made you cry.

“I don’t want to keep pretending that our relationship is strictly professional, or god, friendly! If it’s a conflict of interest, I-I’ll fucking resign and find something else, but I don’t want to find anyone else to share my heart with, Jacob, I can’t.” I already gave it all to you - went unspoken.

“Okay,” he spoke calmly as he reached to hold you in his embrace, and you welcomed him.

“I’m not good at coming up with words on the spot, but I want you to know that every fiber of my being belongs to you, that my soul is yours to keep and cherish for as long as you want. I love you.”

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

jokey: @loofypoofy, @livkiszka

#josh kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiskza #josh gvf #jake gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #greta van fleet #gvf imagine #gvf fic #jake kiska fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiskza x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic

49 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 10 months

Text

New Traditions

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: you bring him coffee from his favorite coffee shop, he brings you your favorite blueberry muffins. it's a silent routine you've established with one another. but maybe, just maybe, you'd like something more than coffee and muffins during work hours. and maybe, just maybe, he'd like that too.

or. . . in which this is a sequel to this blurb.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 4K

warnings/content: spencer & reader being a Simp ™ for e/o; discussion regarding addictions and intoxication; expectations being uphold; friendly banter; I love you but I'll never admit it trope (hang tight with me); self-doubts; language; fluff fluff fluff; making out.

A/N: I guess this can be read as a standalone but it'd make more sense if you read this one first. enjoy!

navi

masterpost

━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Spencer arrived in the Bureau that morning, he did his usual ritual: place his satchel on his chair and retract immediately to the pantry to make his coffee. He couldn't function without it. Actually, he was pretty certain no one in his team could function in the morning without any type of caffeine. Some of the times, when he was the first to arrive — it's rare, Hotch is always there — he'd prepare a coffee pot, fill up his mug, add seven sachets of sugar and cream, and leave it there for whoever wanted it.

It was the same thing every day. His routine was drab but he liked it the way it was.

Spencer wouldn't consider himself a person inclined to changes. Everybody knows that and everybody is used to it. But he's accustomed to it. He's came around to the fact that life comes with lots of surprises and unexpectancy, even if he's not fond of it, he's gotta take it and stop whining about it.

You were the change that made him not despise surprises that much. Your arrival at the BAU was one of the best choices the department made. To the team. And to him, of course. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

It changed how he felt listened. He was used to being brushed off by his co-workers whenever he started rambling, so much so that he begin to contain his urges to spurt out statistics in random conversations. Then, you came along and actually paid attention to what he was saying in these moments. In every moment, precisely.

You wouldn't stop asking him about the history of the movies and the snacks they were selling during that night at the Korean Festival. It was a week ago. He wished he could come back to that day and see your mesmerized face as he explained details of the culture.

He had so much fun. He didn't do it a lot; hanging out. Being with people was totally tangent to his comfort zone. Spencer cherished his alone time. The silence, the peace and the no-need-to-pick-up-on-social-cues part — he was really bad at the latter.

But he loved spending time with you. He'd like to do it more often. If only he was able to stop hyperventilating and shaking whenever he thought about asking you out.

Not as a date. As friends. Because that's what you were.

Definitely not as a date.

That morning, when he arrived at his desk, a coffee sat upon it. Remember those changes he mentioned? Yeah. This is one of them. You started bringing him coffee from his favourite coffee shop near Quantico. And it was his exact order.

He felt his heart swell every time he'd see your messy handwriting in the cup holder.

“Did you know that Mr. Oscar Wilde had a photographic memory? He was able to remember long passages and then effortlessly recall them later. That reminded me of you. Although I'm sure you certainly can remember three entire books from the 1st page to the last one and quote the whole thing. Wilde would be jealous, Spence.”

Ps: I know photographic memory and eidetic memory are two different things, it just reminded me of you :)

Since the beginning of the week you had this little thing going on. He didn't know what it was, he didn't know if you knew what it was. But you'd bring him coffee with random curiosities and he'd bring you blueberry muffins with quotes from your favorite poets.

“What's that smug grin for?” His neck snapped up at the voice, Derek was sipping on his coffee with a curious look. He was sizing him up.

“Nothing.” Spencer smoothly covered your little note with his hand and took a sip of the beverage. Eyes shutting in delight. Fuck. How can you do everything right? This is perfectly sweetened. “We got a case?” He mentioned Penelope walking straight to the conference room, distracting himself from the obvious profiling Derek was doing.

“Yeah.” Derek clicks his tongue against his palate, tilting his head. “Pretty boy...”

“What?” Spencer gave him an innocent look, grabbing his stuff. “We should go.”

Derek chuckled behind him, “You're not slick, Reid. I can see it!”

“What are you talking about?” He shrieked out, taking a seat across from Emily while carefully placing his cup on the table. Garcia was already preparing the images to detail the case.

Derek pointed at him and mouthed I see you before sitting down beside Hotch, JJ taking the seat at his right. The middle of his forehead twitched slightly when he didn't see you. Were you late? Did something hold you up? No. You had brought his coffee, you must be—

“Morning, Reid.”

He just had to look at his side. Your soft smile greeting him. He's going to have a great day.

“Good morning,” he replied, the corner of his lips quirking up when he saw the brand sticker on your coffee cup. Seems like it wasn't just his favorite place anymore. The little bag inside his satchel didn't have a chance to meet your hands yet, he'd usually put beside your computer as soon as he arrived.

He'd have to give it to you later. He knows you don't like having any breakfast in the morning. But you still shouldn't spend the day on coffee and an empty stomach.

Fortunately or not, it was a local case, so you didn't need the jet this time. You ended up stuck in the Geographical profile while everyone else head down to the ME's office. Penelope abandoned her cave to keep you company.

“Hey,” she called out, not looking up from her laptop. By the long time you knew your friend, if there was one thing she could do, that thing was multitasking. Don't fool yourself thinking that she wasn't paying attention to everything that's going on around her just because she's focused on something else. Sometimes, you convicted yourself that she was a robot.

“Yeah?” Your eyes lingered on the board before you drifted to her. “What's up?” you questioned while picking up your water bottle.

“Is there something going on between you and our resident genius?”

Luckily enough, you hadn't drank anything yet or you'd probably have choked up with the accusation.

“What do you mean?” You guped down the water quietly, feeling your neck heat up. Now, she was looking at you, a smirk dancing on her features as if she knew something you didn't.

“You and Reid.” She kept on typing, and clicking clicking clicking. “What happened in the film festival. You went together, right?”

You hummed, turning back to the triangulation process you were trying to finish. There was just one area missing, you couldn't see the pattern but you had a hunch.

“So, what happened?”

“We watched the movie. What else is there to do in a film festival?

Penelope clicked her tongue together, “Uh-uh. I see what you're doing. But watching the movie doesn't give you that stupid smile you have plastered on everytime he's around. And you brought him coffee, I noticed. I saw it.” Well shit. “Not to mention that's not the first time you do that either, missy.” She was pointing her sparkly pen at you and you had to hold yourself back from laughing. That was a threat in Penelope Garcia's style.

“Friends can treat each other, Penelope.”

“Sure they can,” she nodded vehemently. “Just as people on a relationship do as well.”

The heat lifting up your neck was enough for you to curl into yourself in the chair. You pushed a photo into her hands, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I need you to find info about this guy, please. Brian Englebert, I'll go... I have to... yeah.”

Penelope's giggling was the last thing you heard as you left the room.

Falling in love is like a drug addiction.

According to some researches, falling in love with someone gives you the same sensation as feeling addicted does; the release of euphoria and triggering of brain chemicals like dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline and others. Ergo, the more time you spend with this person, the more addicted you will become.

Spencer knows all about addictions. How it can affect your brain and your life in general. He's also aware that if you just ignore it, without the rightful treatment, it will just proceed to get worse.

Ah, there's also that. Spencer is awfully good in ignoring things. Pretending they aren't there. But when something is imbedded into his brain, continuously causing his synaptic connections to go haywire, he can't just keep ignoring it, can he?

Because looking at you from the bullpen entrance, happily eating your muffins as you surveyed some files in your desk... that made him feel something. That made his heart to want to burst out of his chest. How is this possible? Why is his face heating up? Why is his mouth dry? Is he about to die?

“Wilde was also considered a genius back on his days. I believe that he would also be considered a genius today given his literary accomplishments and the way he spoke loudly about banned topics.” He gulped down the rock in his throat while licking his dry lips. You looked over your shoulder, mid-bite into the muffin when your eyes crinckled up by your smile. At him. You were smiling at him. Were you happy that he was there? Or was he being a nuisance by interrupting your snack break?

He couldn't stop talking and when he was about to begin another monologue, you cut him off.

“You don't believe in the genius terminology, do you?” You spoke, politely cleaning the corners of your mouth with a napkin even if they were perfectly clean. “You've mentioned it before.”

You pay attention to what he says too. How could he not fall for that?

“No,” he says, quietly sitting down in a chair that you had pulled closer to yours. “The methods to classify someone as a genius usually refer to high IQ or when one has great accomplishment in science or related areas.” He declined when you offer a muffin to him, a smile spreading around his face. “There's a lot of people who have made great accomplishments in many other areas, like music or art. They don't get the same recognition though,” he shrugged, fidgeting with his satchel. “I just think it's unfair.”

You nodded, thoughtfully, “That makes sense. I hadn't thought through this perspective yet.” Your attention lowered back to your desk and he thought he had lost your attention until you pulled up a blue post-it. His face reddened immediately. “No other word makes my mouth as tender as your name.” You recited, a warm feeling embracing your heart, when your eyes locked with his, you exhaled softly. “How did you know? I never mentioned this book to you, nor the author.”

It was your favourite book from all times. You had found it in an old bookstore on your hometown, it was your last purchase before you moved away. It's the last memory you made there. You never spoke about it. It's kind of the secret you keep to you from someone you no longer knew but craved once in a while.

“You have it with you all the time,” Spencer said timidly, eyes nervously shifting away from your gaze. “You—You were reading on the jet once and I saw the title and I always see it on your bag when you're fixing it in your desk and—” after a sharp inhale, he started gesticulating with his hands. “Not that I go through your stuff or anything! I saw see it really quick I didn't even touch—”

“Spence.”

“... because it's not mine! And it would be really impolite for me to do so—”

“Spence?”

“I swear I'd never purposely go through your stuff, Y/N—”

“Spencer,” your tone was soft but stern, at least to convey you needed him to stop talking without sounding rude. His lips clipped shut and his cheeks were pink with shame. Rambling. You finally got tired of it, he was waiting for it to finally happen— “Hey. I didn't imply that you went through my stuff,” you said calmly with a smile lifting the corners of your mouth, reaching out to him with your hand. You waited until he grasped yours, a silent request for consent to touch him since you knew he wasn't very fond of it. “I'm just kind of... flattered? That you pay attention. I didn't know I was interesting enough for you to notice these things, Doctor Reid.”

“You're the most interesting person I've ever met.”

He didn't realize until it was out and then he looked down at your hands in embarrassment. You chuckled softly, playing with his fingers on yours. He's so lovely.

“You're the most interesting person I've ever met, too, Spencer.”

He blinked up at you, surprise traveling across his features. “I am? Me?”

Fondness embraced your orbs just as your heart hammered in your chest. Spencer. There's so much you don't know. So much that you've no idea. . .

“Mhm.” You hummed, pulling one of his unruly stands behind his ear. Spencer almost melted when your hand grazed his cheek. “You, Spencer Reid. You've no idea how much I learn with you every day and how it amazes me, don't you?”

Spencer was out of words for the first time in his life.

Your finger trailed down his cheek, the middle of your forehead creasing slightly. “You're amazing.” But you don't know that. You don't realize that. Why?

Air didn't reach his lungs and Spencer felt like hiding and never letting go of you at the same time. Oh, it's been so long since he felt like that. . . It was almost too great to love someone that was good to you. A healthy love — Yes, it is love, he admits it now. He can be a fool no more — It seemed foreign. The idea. Spencer never thought he deserved much than what he had and what he received. But maybe, maybe he did. Could he deserve you?

He decided to be bold. “You—” but Aaron Hotcher cut him off and all his courage went down the drain. Seems like the universe wanted to joke with him. He was a fool, afterall.

“Go home,” Hotch walked by, pointing at the manila files on your desk and then at you and Spencer. “Get some rest, the two of you.”

When you looked around, there was just you and Spencer in the bullpen — and Anderson, because you were sure he never really left the precinct. You'd find all of his stuff somewhere in the pantry — Everyone must have gone home, already. The Bureau was slightly frightening when it was a deserted island. It reminded you a lot of a liminal space.

You obeyed your boss. By the time you cleaned up your desk, Spencer was gone. Disappointment taking over your features. Well, what did you expect? It's not like it was his obligation to wait for you. He wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't your anything. You had no right to put expectations on him.

Stepping into the parking lot, the cold breeze immediately involved your body. Too bad you had chosen to wear a tank top exactly today. It was warm in the morning!

“Did you know that approximately 28 million people read poetry in America?” You jumped in your spot, gasping at the silhouette beside your car where you were about to get in.

Spencer gave you a little wave.

“You...” a relieved sigh escaped you, shoulders descending. “You scared me, Spencer.”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, pulling at the strap of his satchel. “Ehm, t-this number doubled up in the age range of 18 to 24. It's proven that—uh, social media actually helped the growth of these numbers. It pushed people's interests into poetry a lot more.”

You stared at him in complete bewilderment. Your mind was working fast to seek out an answer for his rambling, but you were so confused that you just stayed quiet. And he gave you a grimace.

“I'm being weird.” Spencer nodded, “I know. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay—”

“I'm just trying to tell you something— ask, yeah, ask you something but that's what came out. I am so sorry. I should go, yes, I should—”

You leaped forward, surprising even yourself from the move. You had grabbed his wrist and quickly retracted your hand. “Sorry.” you apologized, biting your lip. “I— you can ask, Spencer. I was just a little confused.”

He let out a long sigh, his hands were shaking and they were starting to sweat too. But he told himself that this is when he stops being a fool.

“I'm a mess.” Yes, great way to start. “I'm a mess because I don't know how to stop talking. I don't understand social cues — I'm actually getting better at that — and I'm still scared of the dark. I have to sleep with a lampshade on. That's embarrassing.” his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was holding his shoulder strap. “I'm not great at letting people be there for me because I've been taking care of myself my whole life, I don't see the appeal in letting anyone in, it's too much work. My brain doesn't stop, I'm always thinking and it tires me out. Sometimes I wish it all went silent. I don't have a favourite book, I've read many great ones and I find it unfair with the authors to just choose one. So I don't.” For the first time since he started talking, he breathed in. You took a step forward, expecting him to just crumble down in front of you. Where was he getting with this? You wanted so badly to hug him but you didn't know if he wanted it and you weren't given an opening to ask. He didn't let you. “I don't know how to love.” That made you frown. Before you could retort, he carried on. “I've learned there's no pattern for it and people are different everywhere. I can't plan it, I can't see the numbers. I can't control people because they aren't meant to be controlled.”

Your eyes softened. “No, no they aren't, Spence. And it's okay, you know? You don't have to plan everything.” you finally spoke as he let you. But he didn't seem to be finished so you remained quiet. You didn't expect him to take your hand in his, to which he chuckled nervously at your startled reaction.

“But I think... I think I'm starting to love you.” What was breathing? You never learned. “I'm not sure if that's the right thing to say when I'm trying to ask you out—”

“You want to ask me out?” The failed tone made his face fall and you shook your head vehemently, pulling him towards you. “That's not how I meant it! I just— God, Spencer. Do you want to give me a heart attack?” you exclaimed. “I wasn't expecting this.”

He frowned, looking down at your hands to avoid looking into your eyes. “What were you expecting?”

“Rejection,” you said, earning a look of confusion. Then, enlightenment and them disbelief. It was cute to watch him tech the conclusion. “It was a clear setting in my head so I never tried.”

“Why would I ever reject you? I've lov— I've had a crush on you since the moment you stepped into my sight.” Spencer added, covering his slip-up but you noticed it. You didn't comment on it, you'd wait for the right time. “Do you—does that mean that you feel the same?”

A breathy laugh left your lips. “Oh, Spence.” you approached him slowly, hand raising to his cheek. He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut and you smiled. “I feel more than the same. I feel everything for you.” And I'm starting to love you too.

His eyelashes tinkled against your hand before he lifted his gaze to you, he was trying to avoid breathing just like you were. Afraid this moment would be lost in the wind by a single action. Spencer's eyes drifted down to your mouth.

“Can I—”

“Do it.”

Your lips didn't crashed together. They met in the middle, carefully joining into one space. It didn't felt as if you've been waiting for this — the both of you — it was a perfect pace. That until your body was being pressed against your car and his hands were roaming all over you. You needed to breathe, as much as you didn't want to.

“Hi.” You whispered, cracking a smile as you stared down at his swollen lips. Your hands pressed against his chest.

He sighed, burying his face into the croak of your neck. “Hi.”

A chuckle made your body shake slightly and his hold on you tightened.

“You just kissed me like that and you're suddenly shy?” You teased, fingers caressing the back of his neck. “Is that all an act to make me fall for you? It's working.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled with a shake of his head, leaning back to meet your eyes. You studied the glint in his hazel orbs with a warm feeling spreading on your chest. “I've just— I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

You quickly peck his lips, cupping his face as your features turned serious. Even if you couldn't stop smiling.

“I've wanted to do that just as long, Spencer. Trust me.”

You know when wine makes you less inhibited? A few too many glasses can make you less serious, less controlled. Alcohol causes the oxytocin levels of one's body to increase, which is why people tend to feel more confident and comfortable while drunk. Spencer understood now all of those researches that talked about how being in love can make you feel as if you're drunk. Because he was drunk and he was completely addicted to you at that moment.

“Ask the question, Doctor Reid.” You traced the tip of his nose and chuckled as he scrunched it.

“Ask what question?”

“The one you came after me for.”

“Oh.” you were able to feel his fingers nervously shifting against the exposed skin of your tank top. “I... Mhm.” He gulped, gaze meeting yours apprehensively. “Would you like to go on a date... with me? You don't have to say yes. Don't feel obliged to because—”

“Because you just took all my breath away?” You learnt that you loved to make him blush. “I'd love to go on a date with you, Spencer.” you said softly.

His eyes widened in surprise, “Really?

“Yes.” you assured him, tucking a curl behind his ear. “So, is there another film festival I don't know about?”

His eyes brightened in excitement and you knew he was about to talk your ear off about something. And you couldn't wait for him to start. That was something you could easily get addicted to: his ramblings and his kisses.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: anybody recognise the book quote on the blue post-it? 👀

━━━━━━━━━━━━

sources: [1] [2]

━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

325 notes · View notes