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darknight3904 · 6 months

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𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴏʏ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ 10ᴛʜ ᴀɴɴᴜᴀʟ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴀʟʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx, ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʙᴏᴏʙ ᴍᴀɴ. ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ. ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ!

You could feel his eyes on you, it had been like this for months. Coriolanus Snow's eyes followed you nearly everywhere you went. From your class presentations to where you sat in the cafeteria with your peers, those strikingly blue eyes were always watching. Arachne had called it "unnerving" and "downright creepy" but what she didn't know was that you loved it. Knowing that you had the smartest boy in the class wrapped around your finger felt empowering, it also helped that you had been in a relationship with said boy for months now.

It had been sudden, the beginnings of the relationship with him. Sejanus was the one who pointed him out to you. Perhaps he was just trying to put in a good word for his friend but before you knew it Coriolanus was bringing you white roses and brushing your hair from your face. He'd present you with little folded pieces of paper, made to look like swans or butterflies and you cherished each one, your desk drawer at home was filled with his gifts. You and Coriolanus had agreed not to walk around the academy flaunting your relationship and opted for a much more discreet version of boyfriend and girlfriend when in public. That promise of secrecy didn't exactly stop hushed gossip and rumors that flew around the school. You'd deny any ideas of dating but you knew so many of your peers saw right through this act. Of course, all this secrecy, just meant he was all the more touchy in private. Even now, as you sat in his lap at your desk, trying to focus on the essay that was due tomorrow.

"It's perfect. You always get good marks anyway."He said, his fingertips dancing around your waist trying to get you to pull your attention from the paper before you.

"Easy to say when you have the highest marks." You pointed out, squirming when his fingers brushed a particularly ticklish spot.

"True, but you've always been a better writer than me. Don't you want to eat some of that food your maid brought in? It smells wonderful." He nodded to the large cart of food that had been sitting in your room, ignored for the past ten minutes.

One thing about your charming boyfriend was that he was always hungry. Coriolanus never turned down any of your suggestions of what to eat and was constantly eager to try whatever your family's cook whipped up when he was visiting you. His explanation for this constant hunger was that the Snow's cook was simply terrible but they couldn't fire him since their grandmother loved him so.

"I guess we can eat." You sigh placing your essay neatly into a folder, and standing to let him up from your desk chair.

You carefully helped your boyfriend place some of the food on your oversized bed. Another thing about him was that he highly enjoyed eating while sitting on your bed with you, of course, you couldn't blame him your bed was irresistibly soft.

"Do you honestly think that Arachne has the best hair in the class?" He laughed

"It's always pinned so neatly! Not to mention how her hair bows always compliment her makeup!" You point out

" I personally believe that there's another who has the best hair." He says, popping a grape into his mouth

"Oh really, who? And don't say Sejanus or Festus because we both know you'd be lying." You laugh, taking another bite of the chicken on your plate.

"It is obviously me." Coriolanus says "Have you seen my curls?"

He's dead serious about the statement but you can't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" He asks, reaching over to poke at your stomach as you giggle at him

"You're just so confident, it's kind of funny." You smile

"Oh please, you act like my looks aren't the whole reason you were interested in me in the first place." He points out.

"That is not fair." You groan, knowing it is true. Coriolanus' good looks had definitely helped him get the girl. It didn't help that his words were equally as charming.

"Don't worry, I know your hundreds of ex-boyfriends don't compare to me." He smirks, pulling you to his side

"It's not hundreds." You snort, sure, you dated quite a few boys in the past but, so far none of them have ever held a candle to your Coryo.

Coriolanus found himself fully enraptured by your presence. From the way you'd double knot your shoes to the soft cherry red lipstick, you wore when he'd take you out on dates that he made sure were cheap yet incredibly tasteful. He felt incredibly reckless whenever he was with you, the way he'd find himself blurting out the craziest things in your presence was simply uncanny. Even now as you sat, awaiting him in bed, he knew you were going to somehow drag some crazy statements out of his mouth even when he swore he wouldn't blab on about god only knows what.

"Hope you didn't miss me too much." He teases when he exits your bathroom, slipping under the covers with you

"Don't get cocky." You laugh, pulling the covers up to hide your chest.

Coriolanus hated that you did that after sex. He had just been inside you, and yet you insisted on hiding what was probably his favorite part of you under the silky sheets that adorned your bed. Sure, he wanted to respect your boundaries and all, but he also wanted to be able to use your chest as his personal pillow.

"Stop staring at them." You scold, trying to wiggle away from his arms that were wrapping around you under the blankets.

"I can't help it, they're so soft." He says, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

"You're so strange." You laugh, running a hand through those wonderfully curly locks

"You love it." He sighed into your skin.

Months later, one day before the 10th Annual Hunger Games

You couldn't believe it. Coriolanus had blown you off. You had planned a date, a simple one really just a little picnic with some of his favorite foods and he never showed up. He had been acting strange ever since reaping day but when he had agreed earlier to your picnic idea you had been elated. You initially had thought he was just nervous since he got stuck with the District 12 girl but now you could see why he was acting so oddly. The moment you saw him standing in that damn cage at the zoo next to her, holding her hand, you knew exactly what was going on, he was interested in a girl who would be dead in days. His songbird was pretty, she'd give him that but what the hell did Lucy Gray have to offer your Coryo that you didn't already possess? Sure, she was a good singer that was obvious but other than that what did she have? Certainly not riches or manners to win your boy over and yet she was doing it anyway, she was singing her songs and casting a spell over your Coriolanus. You wondered if she was even truly interested in him, what if she was just trying to survive and Coryo was falling for it like an idiot?

It took quite a bit of self-control not to toss something at his head when he entered your room.

"I'm sorry...I know I missed your picnic." He said, crossing the room quickly

"You're only sorry for missing my picnic?" You ask, not rising from your seat

"What are you talking about? I'm here to apologize for standing you up. I was with Lucy Gray she needed food and I wanted to talk to her about strategy for the games." He said

"Really? You were talking strategy with her?" You roll your eyes, pointing to the television in your room which was paused on the broadcast Lucky Flickerman had done earlier that afternoon. Lucky was the focus of the shot but in the background, anyone with eyes could see Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray overly close to one another.

"I don't think talking strategy requires wiping her tears for her Coryo." You say

"She's just scared, I felt bad for her." He lies

"So you were just comforting her?" You ask

"Yes. Nothing more." He says

Jealousy reared its ugly head and set a bitter taste in your mouth. Did he honestly expect you to believe that?

"You're a man of many talents, Coryo but you're not a very good liar." You point out before clicking a button on your remote to show him the next thing you want him to see.

You want to laugh at the way his eyes widen at what you're showing him.

"She kisses you here, Coryo. I'm sure you would've continued too if you weren't so caught up in your own desires for that Plinth Prize." You point out, letting the footage play of him and Lucy Gray in the dark at the zoo which had to have been not even an hour ago.

"Are you spying on me?" He asks, offended

"You forget my mother's position in the Capitol, Coryo. She pioneered the advanced cameras The Hunger Games uses each year. Did you honestly think that there wouldn't be cameras watching the Tributes through the night?" You laugh

"So you're watching me?" He asks, clearly upset that you caught him red-handed

"You're the one skipping out on a relationship that is more important than anything that Songbird could offer." You coldly say

"You're crazy," Coriolanus says backing away from you and your camera footage

"You're one to talk, Coryo. Have you looked in the mirror recently?" You laugh, standing up

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you." He says

"And cheating isn't a good one on you." You counter

"That wasn't cheating." He says

"Really? And what do you call kissing another person who isn't in your relationship called?" You ask

"I don't need to explain my actions to you." He says

"You don't have to." You say "I hope she's worth all your trouble, considering she could die tomorrow."

"She'll win." He assures himself

"If she doesn't I'm sure you'll be quite sad, given you're so taken with her." You say, walking over to your desk where a vase of white roses sits, he gave them to you the day of the reaping. You pull them from the vase and walk towards him.

"What are you doing?" He asks as you get closer

"Returning your gifts." You say sharply before tossing them at him "Give them back to Grandma'am I'm sure she'll be glad to have them back in her greenhouse."

"You're acting insane." He says holding the roses gently

"I'm not. I'm just responding to everything you've done." You say coldly

"You know all those past boyfriends of yours, one of them said you were insane. I should have listened." He says, pointing an accusing finger at you

"Oh please. I'm insane?" You laugh

"Yeah, you are. And this," He points to himself and then you "Is over."

You watch as Coriolanus tosses his roses on the floor before storming out of your room, and presumably out of your family's home. From your window that overlooks the front of the house, you see him cast one more glance at you from the front yard.

"Oh, Coryo, you'll come running back."

Part 2

In case anyone reading this is wondering I do not hate Lucy Gray in any way so don't come after me.

The teaser for Part Two can be found here

#coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #fanfic #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fluff #tbosas #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #tom blyth #rachel zegler #Spotify #Youtube

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midnightmoonkiss · 1 year

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Language Of Love

AlHaitham X GN! Reader

“‘Italics’” = he’s speaking another language

“So.. you can speak 20 languages?”

A random conversation.

It was easy to guess how you got to this point, boredom.

Spending time with your.. acquaintance, who you may or may not have a crush on, wasn’t on your agenda today, but here you are - sitting on a chair in his office as he effortlessly scribbles down sophisticated words onto parchment.

The sound was certainly pleasing to the ears, skrch sccrch sckrch.

You had no clue what he was doing. Oh, the duty of a scribe..

Or why you even came here..

No.

You knew why you came here, to spend time with him, as a friend only. Or maybe you were less than friends. It was hard putting a label on things when it came to the emotionally stunted AlHaitham. He was almost as bad as the General Mahamatra.

You just forgot how boring spending time with him can be if he’s busy working, thus leading you to flip through one of the many books on his bookshelf.

Yeah, you quickly got bored of that too.

These weren’t story books, they were informative books. You suppose to a man like him who enjoyed learning, this was like being surrounded by candy. To you? Its like being surrounded by encyclopedias.

He probably reads encyclopedias for fun.

So here you were, starting a conversation on a little fact you heard an academia student mutter like it was a piece of gossip even though it was probably outlined somewhere.

“Yes,” The scratching of quill to paper continues even as he glances up at you for a split second, “It’s important for scholars to broaden their knowledge and fluency of languages as to not hinder important research that may be written in a different dialect.”

All of Teyvat spoke the same language, it was easy to wonder why everyone from ancient times suddenly decided to switch. Of course you wouldn’t ask him such a thing, not right now anyway.

You had a plan.

A plan to woo this man.

The many failed attempts before can not hinder you.

Smugly, you said to him, “I bet I know one language you can’t speak.”

Oh, you were already giddy.

Curiosity peaked, his scribbling halted, eyes on you, “Is that so?” He was eager to hear you answer.

Whether you were toying with him, or genuinely knew a language he could add to his list, he was willing to listen.

“Do tell.”

Clearing your throat, you sat up straight and gave him a cocky smile, “The language of love.”

You were met with silence, as expected.

He was starstruck, surely. In awe. Was he wooed?

You could easily speak up with the punchline after his response, oh!! You would say, ‘but I can teach you!!’

Oh, he’s about to respond! He’s-!

“You must be referring to the ancient Fontaine language used by higher class citizens, commonly known to scholars as the language of love due to how words would ‘roll off the tongue like silk’ when speaking it.“

–an idiot? You were gobsmacked.

And he was smirking on the inside.

“I’m surprised you know of this language, you must have learned something from one of the books you’ve flipped through in the library.”

“That’s not,”

“I can even demonstrate it for you.”

“Wait!”

You began to fluster as he indeed began speaking a language completely foreign to your ears.

He was right, the words did flow silkily. This did not make you feel any better. Your pickup line failed miserably.

“‘You are so adorable, trying to trick me like this.’”

You can’t help but pout, wondering just what he was saying.

“‘Look at you, cheeks flushed and puffed like a fish. Honestly, how am I supposed to work efficiently if you’re here distracting me.’”

“Aw come on,” You began to complain, frowning at the gloating male, “I can’t understand you, y’know.”

“‘I do wonder if you’re aware that I know you like me, you wear your heart on your sleeves, my dear,’” he smiles ever so slightly, which completely unnerves you, “‘I like you too.’”

His cheek rests on his knuckles as he leans back and observes your frustration. Oh, how happy he was you brought this up. Any chance to show off his ability and confess without you knowing is always a good opportunity.

He’d shower you in compliments and confessions in all 20 languages if he had the time, perhaps even spill secrets to your unknowing ears.

Oh, how he would like that. He could say his deepest, darkest desires and you’d only look at him with confusion.. maybe even annoyance.

The thought pleased the busy scholar.

“That’s so mean you know, am I supposed to look up your words in a dictionary or something?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be in a dictionary.” He reaches forward and tugs at your cheek, elation swirling in his broad chest as you whine and swat at his large arm.

“Should you remind me at a later date,” when he’s finally made you his, of course, “I’ll happily tell you what I said.”

“How about right now.”

“It is not a later date, only the time has changed.” Breathing out a sigh, faking annoyance, he turns his attention back to his paperwork, picking back up his quill.

“Ok, so I can ask you tomorrow.”

“You can, however, I’m under no obligation to tell you until I want to.”

“I dislike you very much, Scribe.” You grumbled, settling back in your seat.

He chuckles to himself, “I’m sure you do, ‘sweetheart.’”

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #x reader #gn! reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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frogchiro · 8 months

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Beauty is in the eye of The Beholder

Author's note: My first kinktober entry!! Yay! We're staring with a new-ish concept so I hope you like it!

Also I apologize for the short story but I was moving into my dorm for uni today and it literally took all day so I apologize in advance :((

Warnings: slight nsfw, reader is female, general creepyness, whatever König is (human or not) isn't explicitly specified but he does some unnerving/possibly uncomfortable stuff like stalking so keep it in mind, mentioned death but nothing explicit.

The almost suffocating warmth coming from behind you is almost too much. Almost. However considering the events of the day you guess that it could be called comfortable to be cuddled and nuzzled by König, your colonel, your superior and...well, mate as he calls it. It can be sometimes tricky to hear him, for a man that size he's unnervingly silent and stealthy and his voice is low and quiet, almost whispery, not to mention that König just doesn't talk much so to hear him rasp that one word, 'mate', in your direction is a feat in itself.

While at first you were terrified of the enormous male due to all the stated reasons something about him was equally unnerving and yet alluring, like an invisible pull towards him.

At first you thought you were going crazy, everywhere you went you saw the tall, lean figure of the colonel doing nothing but just...watching you. His bloodshot eyes stared at you without ever blinking as you laid a USB stick with data you managed to hack with a tremble in your hands, your eyes not daring to meet his. Another such instance was when he almost scared you to death in an empty hallway at night when you just wanted to get a quick midnight snack from the kitchen and just barely held in a scream when you noticed König standing in a dark corner, silent and static like always, his head wasn't even moving under his cowl except for his eyes which followed you as you were scuttling and whispering shaky excuses.

You were KorTac's newest asset, a skilled hacker and yet many soldiers underestimated you; you guess you can't really blame them, you're only in your early twenties and your soft build isn't really military-esque so you suppose you kinda look a little mismatched, but that doesn't excuse what people were whispering behind your back. Not all of them, not even the majority as you were considered friendly and overall harmless, and yet these few whispered sneers cut deep into your self esteem which eventually led you into the moment you were now in.

You were laying under a thick blanket with König plastered against your back, your quiet sniffles the only thing that disturbed the otherwise quiet room. You felt bad that you were taking up König's time, after all as a colonel he surely had better things to do than lay around with his 'mate' and comfort her after some asshole insulted her although a small, selfish part of you was over the moon with happiness that the huge male behind you was cuddling and comforting you so sweetly despite not muttering anything besides the occasional nuzzle and a raspy 'pretty...soft...mine'.

Turning around, you smiled tiredly at the man beside you, his wide blue eyes never blinking as they continued to stare at you with the devotion and love someone may only give their god and yet here you are, loved and cherished by this huge man, a monster many call him, a merciless goliath that kills and destroys everything in his path like a god of war but you know better. König's huge hands ran up and down your soft sides, lightly grazing your belly and finally his large, warm hands slipped under your pajama shirt and up to your breast where he squeezed lightly, pinching at your nipple.

"König...Please I-", your pleading for...whatever were quickly cut short when the long haired male leaned in with a purr deep in his chest and nuzzled his hooked nose against your cheek, scarred lips making tiny movements as if kissing you making you giggle wetly, your former awful mood lifting, instead being replaced by a warm feeling of love and pleasure as the big male above you kept nuzzling and kissing you insistently, his hand working your sensitive breasts and slipping down to your pants to finger at your clit making you moan out.

Unbeknownst to you, König already had a plan in his mind. A plan he started to make the moment his sensitive ears caught your distressed sniffles making a concerned whine come up from his chest and the moment he saw you, he could clearly see right through you. Someone hurt you. S̷̙̭̦̜͚̑͝͝o̷̹̺͓͙̭̍̚ͅͅm̸͕̹͖̩̰͝e̸̤͖̞̯̍̂̋̚͜o̷̝̫͎̬͎̟̲̦̞̍̆̿̀̀͛̐ņ̴̧͉̭̪̣̖͆̉̅̀e̵̜̜̪̯͛͑́͘ ̶͎̣̱͎̹̻͍̥̔́͝h̵̙̰͊̈́̑͛̌̚u̷͉̝̤̾̆͌̂̓̀̏̕r̸̛̞̘͉̦͙͈͎̫̩͒͊͗̓́͝t̶̯̝͎̮͕̩̹̀̍ ̷̧̨͔̮͉͇͊͂̏͌̆̅͠y̸̡̛͕͉̖͈͗̿̅ơ̷̢͖̼͉͚͔͊̍̊̂̈ͅŭ̷̦͔͚̈́̊̚. And now he needed to know who. Ah. It was Gavin huh. That overly confident, cocksure rookie who thought that the military was rainbow and fucking sunshine, shaded glasses, cool uniforms, huge expensive cars and women to fuck left and right.

He suspected that that prick made some unwanted advances towards you and the moment you rejected him it was 180 and he was nitpicking everything you did or even how you looked. König knew he was gonna be a problem from the moment he laid eyes on him and now he though it funny to make his mate cry?

You know what they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Him being the mentioned beholder and König isn't known to be the most benevolent person...If someone doesn't appreciate your beauty of a goddess, why would they need their eyes?

#kin speaks #kin's kinktober #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader

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katnisspeetaprim · 3 months

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How Did You end Up Here?

Platonic!Alastor/Reader

Summary: Alastor couldn't quite understand how someone like you ended up in Hell,so naturally he wanted find out. (I tried my best with this one. Sorry if it's bad!) Requests open!

Warnings: implied fem reader, platonic relationship, mentions of abusive relationship, mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1450 Hazbin M.list

You hadn’t been in Hell long, but you were already getting used to your new home. Safe to say you were doing better than when you first arrived anyway.

Charlie had found you on your first day, cowering in an alley way. You’d be forever grateful to her for helping you that day, and introducing you to her hotel reform programme.

That’s how you met the radio demon, Alastor.

He was intrigued by you the second Charlie marched you through the front door. He stood back and observed as the hyperactive princess excitedly introduced you to everyone.

Alastor didn’t miss the way you curled in on yourself with a blush when everyone gathered round to greet you. You clearly didn’t like being centre of attention. He decided to step out of the shadows to introduce himself.

‘Oh Y/N this is Alastor! The hotel wouldn’t be possible without him!’

‘Oh you give me too much credit! But Y/N dear, charmed to meet you!’ You were taken aback by the strange man in front of you. His voice was off and the way he was grinning down at you was... unnerving.

‘Ummm nice to meet you.’ You looked away and played with your fingers nervously. ‘I’m new to Hell.’

‘Well I can see that my dear.’ He shrugged nonchalantly, before leaning down closer to you with a glint in his eye. ‘You seem very timid for a sinner I must say.’

You didn’t know if he was trying to taunt you or if he was just stating a fact, because he was right after all.

‘Uh yeah, I guess...’ You trailed off with a nervous chuckle, not really wanting to get into your situation right now.

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Charlie quickly pushed her way between the two of you, stating that her and Vaggie were going to show you round. You sighed in relief, happy to follow the two women if it meant you were out of the spot light.

All the other residents went back to what they were doing before your arrival, all except Alastor that is.

He stared after you with slightly narrowed eyes. This could be interesting.

Over the next few weeks, you’d gotten used to the eccentric bunch of misfits that inhabited the hotel, even becoming friends with them, Alastor included.

The radio demon really wasn’t as scary as you first thought, he was arguably the person you had gotten closest to in the short time. You’d always been fascinated by old media when you were alive, so when you found out he was a radio hot back in the day, you couldn’t help but be curious.

Alastor was thrilled to have someone take an interest in his work and wasted no time taking you on a tour of his studio, something that the other residents couldn’t quite believe happened.

‘My dear you seem to be adjusting to Hell splendidly!’ Alastor approached you as you sat in the lounge, nursing a cup of tea.

‘Oh hi Alastor! Yeah, definitely not as scary as my first day.’ You smiled at him as you placed the cup down on the saucer.

‘Yes, much less like a shaking leaf now I must say.’ You laughed lightly and pushed some stray hair behind your ear.

‘Yeah well, all of you here helped with that.’ You smiled fondly, so grateful to your new friends.

Alastor knew your guard was down. Now would be a great opportunity to learn more about your story.

‘I couldn’t help but notice you’ve yet to leave the hotel alone, could that be something to do with how you ended up in Hell? If I may be so bold to ask.’ Alastor just asked you point blank, the signature grin never leaving his face.

Your own smile fell slightly at his question and you looked round uncomfortably, trying desperately to avoid eye contact, and making sure nobody was around to over hear.

Alastor was still grinning down at you, patiently waiting for your response.

‘Umm... Can we go somewhere private to talk?’ You wanted to finally open up to someone about your death, but that didn’t mean you wanted everyone to know all at once. Hopefully it would do you some good to get everything off your chest.

‘Why certainly! Follow me dear.’

Alastor locked the door behind him and gestured for you to sit down on his furniture. As you looked round his room, you couldn’t help but notice that it was oddly normal. For someone as vivid as Alastor, you’d expected more personality to be in this room. Though, he does spend most of his time in his radio tower.

Aslastor sat opposite you and crossed his legs, placing the cane he was never seen without by his side.

‘I’m all ears my little doe.’ Alastor prodded for you to start talking.

‘well uh-‘ You picked at some loose thread at the hem of your skirt, still somewhat unsure of yourself. ‘I killed my boyfriend.’ You burst out suddenly, just wanting to get it out.

Alastor was a little taken back by your sudden confession, having been prepared to do some prodding before you finally said it but he quickly composed himself.

‘My that is surprising. I never would have pegged you as a killer.’ He shrugged his shoulders, before his eyes darkened and his smirk got somehow wider. ‘I should know.’

You shrunk back a little in your seat, unnerved by his sudden dark turn. You weren’t sure why you were so surprised honestly, he had to be in Hell for a reason. You made a mental note to bring it up to him at a later date.

‘It’s not what you think!’ You quickly jumped back in. ‘He was an abusive asshole .. And I just couldn’t take it anymore...’ You looked down with sad eyes. There was a beat of silence before Alastor spoke up.

'Murder will get you a one way ticket to Hell, even if the scum did deserve it.’ He stated as a matter of fact. Alastor was a bad person, that wasn’t up for debate, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t call someone out for being evil.

You smiled a little at his words. It felt good to be validated.

‘But if that sad excuse of a man is dead, then how did you die?’ Alastor wondered out loud, knowing he hadn’t gotten the full story just yet. You scoffed before answering.

‘One of his guys just so happened to come by after I did it. I don’t remember how he did it, but yeah.’

‘Hmm.’ Alastor was digesting all the information you’d just dropped on him. It all made sense now, how someone like you ended up in Hell. Before Alastor could respond, you spoke up again.

‘I guess my ex will be here somewhere too... That’s why I haven’t been out alone since I got here.’ It took a long time for you to leave the hotel for the first time with Charlie, terrified that you would run into him. Charlie never pushed you for an answer as to why you were so scared, but she made sure you knew you would always be safe around her.

‘What an interesting development.’ Alastor smirked to himself, deep in thought again. You stared at him again, still confused.

‘Alastor?’ Your voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts.

‘Oh don’t mind me dear, just thinking things over.’ He spoke with a surprisingly cheery tone to his voice as he waved you off. You nodded with a sigh, knowing you wouldn’t get any information out of him.

‘Thank you for listening to me Alastor, it really means a lot.’ You gave him a real smile. Probably the first time you’d really smiled since your arrival. It really did feel good to finally get everything off your chest.

‘Don’t mention it! But I would like to know everything about this coward.’

That request definitely caught you off guard. Your brows furrowed as you thought it over.

‘Why?’ You cringed at how meek your voice sounded once again.

‘Nothing to worry about dear, just information for future reference!’

It only took a matter of hours for Alastor to track down the bastard. You’d given him quite detailed information about him and what his personality was like.

Plus Alastor had many connections all over Pentagram City, so finding the man was child’s play honestly.

Alastor had finally cornered the man in a dead end alley way. He was shaking with fear, tears running down his face as he looked up at Alastor looking down on him.

‘Now my pathetic fellow, just how should I deal with you?’

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #imagine #one shot #fluff #angst #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #charlie #husk #angel #adam #lute

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dduane · 3 days

Note

Is there an alphabet or lexicon of the human version of The Speech? And if so, where can I find it?

No, there's not.

(And as I've been asked about this before, I'm just going to paste the answer in here—since though the original post is buried in the depths of Tumblr somewhere, I do have my saved draft.)

Per these, which came in very close to each other:

@melbetweenstars

This is something I’ve always wondered but never realized I could actually ask about until I read through that long meta response. (go me.) How much of the Speech do you have fleshed out? Do you create it as you go on more of a need-to-know basis, or do you have vocabulary and grammar structures ready to go? Basically I’d be really interested to hear any Speech-related meta if you have the chance because fictional languages are hella cool!

and:

@sansa–clegane

I just read your post on dark wizards and field terminologies, and am totally loving the Speech translations you provided! Now I’m wondering, though, how much of the language you actually have mapped out or established? I’m very curious as to what, for example, the standard “I - you - he/she/it/etc. - we - you plural - they” conjugation endings would be– or if there even are any in a language as complex as the Speech. I’M JUST REALLY INTERESTED IN FANTASY LINGUISTICS AAAHH

Linguistics is a big deal for me too, as people who read my stuff will have guessed. And needless to say, the Speech is on my mind a lot (along with other “magical languages” and their history/histories).

So let’s take a moment to first to make it clear what the Speech is not. It’s not what’s sometimes referred to as an Adamic language (whether you take the meaning that God used it to talk to Adam, or that Adam invented it to name things.) It’s also nothing whatsoever to do with Enochian. It’s not an occultic language, or anything invented by human beings.

The basic concept is that the Speech is the language, or the very large body of descriptors, used to create the universe (and very likely others, but let’s leave that to one side for the moment). Such words are also assumed, having been used in the building of the universe, to be able to control the bits they’ve built. Every word, therefore, when used ought ideally to sound as if it contains some tremendous power.

Writing something like that every time the Speech is used, even for a much better writer than I am, would be very, very hard.

(We need a cut here. Under the cut: Ursula Le Guin, C. S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, J. K. Rowling, and others. ...Also a fair number of beetles. And a bear.)

It’s worth mentioning as a matter of information that I met the concept of secret / divine magical languages in Le Guin’s Earthsea long before I ran into it in C. S. Lewis. (I came pretty late to Lewis’s non-Narnian work.) Yet here Lewis, as more than occasionally before, is my master, having been over this ground right back in the mid-1940s.

There’s a point in the final novel of the so-called “Planetary Trilogy”, that big fat (now endlessly problematic but still fun-in-the-right-moods) book That Hideous Strength, where Elwin Ransom—philologist, unwilling visitor to Mars and Venus, unnerved conscript into the wars in Heaven, and Lewis’s take on both the Pendragon and the wounded Fisher King—is instructing his friend and co-linguistics scholar Dimble on how to behave in a meeting with the newly awakened, and potentially quite dangerous, Merlin Ambrosius. (The POV in this passage is that of a lady named Jane who's just recently fallen into company with the group supporting Ransom.)

“You understand, Dimble? Your revolver in your hand, a prayer on your lips, your mind fixed on Maleldil [just think “Christ” for the moment: surprise surprise, that’s the parellel Lewis is using here]. Then, if he stands, conjure him.” “What shall I say in the Great Tongue?” “Say that you come in the name of God and all angels and in the power of the planets from one who sits today in the seat of the Pendragon, and command him to come with you. Say it now.” And Dimble, who had been sitting with his face drawn, and rather white, between the white faces of the two women, and his eyes on the table, raised his head, and great syllables of words that sounded like castles came out of his mouth. Jane felt her heart leap and quiver at them. Everything else in the room, seemed to have become intensely quiet: even the bird, and the bear***, and the cat, were still, staring at the speaker. The voice did not sound like Dimble’s own: it was as if the words spoke themselves through him from some strong place at a distance—or as if they were not words at all but present operations of God, the planets, and the Pendragon. For this was the language spoken before the Fall and beyond the Moon, and the meanings were not given to the syllables by chance, or skill, or long tradition, but truly inherent in them as the shape of the great Sun is inherent in the little waterdrop. This was Language herself, as she first sprang at Maleldil’s bidding out of the molten quicksilver of the star called Mercury on Earth, but Viritrilbia in Deep Heaven.

Now if that’s not like being hit over the head with a hammer, I don’t know what is.* That moment has been before the eyes-of-my-mind for a long time as I’ve worked with the Speech.

Note, however, that Lewis does a very wise thing here. He doesn’t actually spell out any of the words out for you. Because in the reader’s mind, there’s always the six-year-old saying, “Go on, say the word: see how it sounds, see what happens…!” And when you recite the magic spell, it doesn’t work. The words come out sounding, well, like any others. And maybe not your interior six-year-old, but your interior twelve- or fifteen-year-old—the ego-state that’s about keeping you from getting hurt or looking stupid in front of other people who aren’t privy to or supportive of your dreams—says, “See, it was just another word, just a bunch of nonsense. You got fooled. Dummy!” No wise writer, I think, willingly sets their readership up for such easy and constant disappointment. It's tough enough to weave, and hold in place, the spell that is prose. Handing the audience a potential spellbreaker, over and over again, is folly.

And by rights the Speech ought to be like Lewis’s example above. If in reality you were to hear the words used to restructure matter or undo gravity, they ought to shake the air in your chest like a Saturn V launch, they should raise the hair on the back of your neck to hear them used; they should freak you out. But a long string of invented syllables isn’t going to do that. I’m stuck with using English to produce even the echo of such a result.

Which means I have to go Lewis’s route… mostly. Here and there I’ll add in a Speech-sourced word or phrase when it supports the narrative or makes it easier for characters to talk about what’s going on—as, when working with wizardry, you do sometimes have to call in precisionist-level language for words that have no casual English cognates: just as you would if you were working in particle physics or organic chemistry at the molecular level. But that’s all I’m going to do… because if you do too much linguistic work in this regard, you constantly run the risk of your readers being distracted from the real business at hand, which is the interactions between/among the characters.

The tech inherent to a work of fantastic fiction is always an issue in this regard. Ideally L. Sprague de Camp’s very useful definition of science fiction, tweaked here for fantasy, ought to be a guideline: “A fantasy story is a human story with a human problem and a human solution that could never have happened without its fantastic content.” Yet inside the definition, there’s still a lot of ways to go wrong. Too much merely human stuff, and a work of fantasy turns into a soap with some casual magical gimmickry—all too often these days labeled as “magic realism”, when it’s not publisher code for “We’d call this fantasy if we had the nerve and we didn’t think it was going to tag us as ‘genre’ and keep us off the best-seller lists”. Too little human-problem-and-human-solution, and it turns into a modern version of what James Blish (God rest him), when writing as the gently merciless science fiction critic William Atheling Jr., used to call “The 'Greater New York and New Jersey Municipal Zeppelin Gas Works’ school of speculative fiction”, where you tour your readership through the Wonderfulness Of Your Tech (magical or otherwise) until they expire of boredom while waiting for someone to fucking do something.

You have to find a centerline between the extremes—indeed pretty much a tightrope—and walk it with some care. I’d guess that J. K. Rowling ran into the need for this balancing act; while never having read the Potter books, I nonetheless get a sense that you get the occasional Wingardium leviosa without also being burdened with long strings of magical Latin. (Though I confess that the answer to the question “Where does the magic come from? And what’s it for?” as it applies to her universe could be of some interest. I have no idea whether this ever gets explicitly handled.**)

Anyway, it’d be way too easy for the YW books to become long discourses on the Speech and its use. This aspect of the “tech”, I think, gets more than enough time onstage. Having once established that words are a tool, indeed the tool for a wizard, the ur-Tool, making every spell they build a resonance between what they do and the initial/ongoing work of Creation—my business is to stay focused on the challenge of driving plot forward by interactions between human beings (and all kinds of others) who have conflicting agendas.

…So much for the tl;dr. I do have some very basic grammatical structures tucked away, but they’re not in any fit state for other people to look at. The Speech, I think, is really best treated as an ongoing mystery that unfolds a little at a time, as required, and leaves everybody wanting more.

HTH!

*It also leads into one of numerous affectionate nods in this book toward Tolkien, as philologist, fellow novelist, and Lewis’s good friend. It's no accident that when Ransom meets up with Merlin himself, a little later in the narrative, the question of this language—the proper name of the Great Tongue is “Old Solar"—comes up again. When discussing what language they’ll speak with each other during their upcoming negotiations [they apparently start out in a rather beat-up and denatured medieval Latin], Ransom says to Merlin about the language he’d prefer to be working in, "It has been long since it was heard. Not even in Numinor was it heard in the streets.”

The Stranger gave no start … but he spoke with a new interest. “Your masters let you play with dangerous toys,” he said. “Tell me, slave, what is Numinor?” “The true West,” said Ransom. “Well,” said the other.

Yeah, “well.” Better scholars than I have dealt with the relationship between these two, as scholars and writers and friends, so enough of that for the moment. But it’s very sweet to see Lewis do something in his books that I’ve done with mine.

**It’s always possible, of course, that in the HP universe this issue is a surd: like asking “where physics comes from”. (Well, not a surd precisely, if your spiritual life tends a certain way. Mine tends toward “Whoever or whatever made the universe, that’s who made physics. And they must really like it, because they made a metric shit ton of it!” (This answer also works for beetles, though that's a slightly different issue.) :)

But if there’s a most-fundamental difference between my wizardly universe and Rowling’s, it might be best revealed in the third question that came up for me directly after “What if there was a user’s manual for human beings/the world/the universe?” and “If there was, where would it have come from?”: specifically, “And why?”

***There's a bear in the Pendragon's kitchen. Thoth only knows what initially brought that on for Lewis, but it's a character insertion that pays off later, so (shrug) wtf.

#Young Wizards meta #Young Wizards #Ursula Le Guin #C. S. Lewis #J. R. R. Tolkien #the Speech #wizardry #errantry

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sentientcave · 3 months

Text

Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

#cave writing #Ghoap x reader #x reader #MW fic #just a short thing but I'm not sure I'll get around to writing more so I'm posting as is #Maybe someday I will write the second half of this where reader gets sandwiched between two hot military men and has a really good time #But yanno how it is

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mezzy-1 · 5 months

Text

Radiant Recruit (Valorant x Reader)

Name: Y/N

Class: Radiant

Callsign - Nomad

You had been at odds with Kingdom for causing your abilities, and saw Valorant as nothing more than another group trying to reign you in. Your power store radiant energy and unleash it proved difficult to contain. Even worse, you could turn to pure energy and phase away. It was a trick you used to escape Valorant time and time again. Where you came from was only for you to know, until you were captured.

(An idea of what Nomad can do // source: Infamous: Second Son)

Fade

“Stop Y/N! There’s no place you can run to that I won’t find you!” Fade yelled down the hallway. She had you cornered in Bind, inside the Kingdom refinery

“Leave me ALONE!” you screamed, unleashing a wave of radiant power at nearby pipes. Steam filled the hall and you sprinted further away

A screech behind you caught your attention as one of Fade’s nightmares spotted you. A terror trail led from your feet

Snarling prowlers rushed towards you and lunged. You raised a hand and blasted them as they pinned you down

One sunk its teeth into your leg and darkness filled your vision. Whispers surrounded you as memories of Kingdom spying on you resurfaced

Radiant power surged into your eyes before blasting through your body. In your fear, you burnt through the last reserves of energy

Suddenly a voice cut through the chaos

“I have you now, ”

Weak sparks shot from your palm in an attempt to block the ball of tendrils Fade tossed at your feet

Seized by her power, unable to destroy the bindings, you found yourself resorting to struggling against the tethers

Fade took a Sheriff from its holster, the gunmetal gleaming in the red alarm lights. She began to raise it upward towards you

Then turned and emptied the cylinder, catching the bullets and storing them in a pocket

“Valorant is not what you think, we are trying to do something important for the world!”

“So was Kingdom, I don’t care about what your cause is.”

“I was where you are right now, Y/N. I was hunted by Valorant too.” Fade’s tone softened

“What are you talking about?” You were slightly intrigued

“I…blackmailed them. They sent a squad to catch me and could’ve killed me. They gave me a home instead. I trust them.”

“Prove it, how do I know you aren’t lying to get my guard down.”

“You can’t, but you have my word that we will let you go if you want to leave.” She reached a hand to you. “Deal?”

Against your better judgment you decided to come along. In an hour you were being flown to a remote island in the middle of nowhere

“So you know my name, but what’s yours?”

“Hazal. Memnun oldum.”

Hazal sat with you, either for security or reassurance, in the conference room with Brimstone

“Y/N, I apologize for the methods we used but Valorant doesn’t have time for delicate approaches. Fade has first hand experience with that.”

“I didn’t offer you another choice Brimstone,” Hazal seemed to feel some regret

“We wanted to get your help with Omega Earth,” he directed you to a hologram that showed all current information

It was unnerving, the doppelgangers and your personal clone trying to destroy the world. The situation didn’t leave you feeling like you could run away

“So…are you in Y/N?”

“Count me in,” you went over to shake Brimstone’s hand. He took it and handed you a keycard to your room

“You’re part of Valorant now Y/N.” Brimstone nodded to Fade and you exited the room with her

“You’ll be assigned a callsign Y/N,” Fade said as she led you to your quarters. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Uh, I guess we should figure it out while we have time.” Your opened the door to your room and took a seat on the bed

Fade took a seat at your desk, looking around at the sparse interior before settling on you

“Y/N, what do you think about going by Nomad? It would fit, don't you think?”

Iso

“Oh shi-” you were surprised by a bullet ricocheting past you and putting a hole in the elevator controls

“Nice try Y/N, but you aren’t getting out of here unless you come with me.” Iso chambered another round. “Or else.”

“Go to hell!” you triggered a maelstrom of energy inside your body. Radiant pulses fired from you and Iso lept to cover

Shifting into energy, you charged straight at him, ready to plant your glowing fists directly into his face

Hexagons spilled out under your feet. Violet light blinded you before placing you into a strange space made of similar shapes

“You’re all mine Y/N.” a familiar voice echoed. Iso had somehow captured you

The structures around you disappeared and a single shot rang out against the silence of the realm you were in

A bullet hit your chest, but the ballistic plate underneath stopped it. It didn’t stop the force from slamming into you though

“Y/N, I admire your spirit but you lost this fight. I won’t hurt you, I just want to show you what Valorant is trying to do.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You won’t leave here. Ever.”

He wasn’t bluffing, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to condemn you to that fate either. His aim was steady but his eyes were more focused on your response

“I’ll go with you, but if you try anything you’ll regret it.”

Iso sighed something in Mandarin

Purple energy wrapped you and placed you back in the building. Iso waited for you to get to your feet and led you at gunpoint

The elevator controls were shot, so you and Iso took stairs to the roof. When you arrived at the helipad, the VTOL was just landing

“Remember, I can trap you at anytime Y/N. Don’t try to escape until we get to the island and we brief you.” Iso was dead serious

He left you in the cargo hold of the VTOL while it took off. He returned later on his phone and looked over at you

“Any requests for music? I don’t like silence.” Iso pointed at the phone

“(Your favorite artist).”

“I have a playlist for them, tell me what you think.”

The ride to the HQ was more pleasant than you expected

Subsequently, you were lead to a room with the leader of Valorant for more information

Brimstone finished explaining the situation. Needless to say the Omega Earth version of you destroying city blocks was a frightening prospect

“Y/N, if you help us out you’ll be giving us the advantage. We can let you go but we can’t guarantee your mirror won’t try to come after you.”

“I’ll join your protocol if it means I can protect people from my double.”

“Welcome to the fight Y/N. Iso, take Y/N to the armory and get them fitted for their gear and run a basic shooting test.” Brimstone shook you hand warmly

Iso and you walked down the hall, passing a few other agents that gave you a wave or raised an eye at your presence

Once you were in the armory, Iso went over ballistics and you did some basic target practice

“Y/N, have you given any thought to your callsign?” Iso finished marking your grade in a tablet

“Not really, I do want something that sounds good and makes sense.” you placed your rifle down and began a field strip test

“Since you were constantly on the run, how does Nomad work for you?” He raised the tablet with the name entered in

“Sounds good.”

“I can’t wait to work with you, Nomad.” Iso nodded to you and handed you a magazine

Viper

“Oh Y/N it’s precious that you think you can hide from me, but I like games of cat and mouse.” Viper purred as you crept around Icebox

The woman had managed to cut off every escape from you, a fact she reveled in

“I assume you’re thinking that if you attack me, you can shut the toxins off and leave.” she was trying to draw you out, so you continued to sneak around

Viper turned and left

Green fog began to empty from the vents everywhere, catching you off guard. It was then you realized she had been waiting for the toxins to get in the system

“Is it hard to breathe? Try not to die before I find you, I don’t want to explain that to Brimstone.”

Coughing loudly, you attempted to crawl away as vertigo set in. The toxins smelled like acetone mixed with acrid sweetness

Viper’s silhouette appeared as you lost consciousness. Her figure towered above you as your eyes shut

“You’re awake, good. I need you to listen to me Y/N, can you do that?” Viper had unmasked and was now looking you directly in the eye

You nodded your head weakly while taking account of your surroundings. Toxins had rendered your powers and muscles useless

“What do you want from me?” you hissed

“Join Valorant, we could use your-”

“NOBODY’S using me.” you spat back. Viper glared at you

She removed a vial of poison and opened it. She tilted the glass over your head, letting a drop hang over your eye

“Don’t interrupt me,” Viper narrowed her gaze, “Understood?”

“I’d rather die than be some kind of weapon for a bunch of sociopaths.”

“You aren’t in a position to argue, but we are going to play nice and show you the protocol.”

“Easy to do when I’m your prisoner.”

“Exactly Y/N.”

Minutes later you were being flown somewhere new, but had no idea what was waiting for you once you regained your motor functions

Viper and Brimstone sat with you, going over confidential files on Omega Earth and their agents. It was shocking to your face among them as well

“We know they’ll end up using your mirror against us, so we need all the support we can get.” Brimstone passed a keycard to you

You took it and shook his hand

“I’ll take Y/N to the medical wing and run biometrics so we can plan countermeasures against their double.” Viper motioned for you to join her

The biometrics were mainly just scans and a blood test, but Viper took time to explain what each piece would be used for

“Y/N, you need a callsign for me to enter your information under. Any ideas?”

“Not really. I guess there’s the fact I was always escaping, that could be something.”

“Well you didn’t escape me,” Viper smugly raised an eyebrow. “But I do like that idea, how about Nomad?”

“I like that, it sounds mysterious.”

“Perfect, now let's get you to your quarters and finish the tour so I can get back to my lab.”

“Can I see the lab?”

“No.”

Neon

“I thought you were supposed to be fast! So much for the protocol’s ‘Sprinter.” you taunted as you sped away down a street in your energy form

Neon trailed behind you, each pace pulsing with electricity. She had almost caught you but a quick energy burst saved you

Now it was a matter of running, which was easy for you to do because you could move through obstacles

That was your thought until you ran out of radiant power in the middle of the street

“Slow huh?” Neon was on you quickly. You decided to fight, unleashing what little energy you had left in missiles of force

She dodged and closed the distance, using her speed to shift her target faster than you could aim

In the blink of an eye Neon grabbed your arm. Volts spasmed down your body, paralyzing you

“No more running Y/N.” Neon dragged you to the side of the road and away from the public. She hid you under a bridge, seating you on a bench

“So Valorant sends you to catch me and then what? Lock me in a cell until you need to destroy something?”

“No, we want you to learn how to control the power before you hurt anyone.” Neon trailed off, lost in thought

“Do you really control your power or is it just them letting you loose on anyone they want?” You needled at her doubt

“So you must have lost control at some point then, did they show up and lock you away? Just like what you want to do to me?” Provoking her was the only thing you could do

“It wasn’t like that! They found me…but after I had lost control,”

“Don’t lie to me, they can’t help me and they can’t you either!”

“SHUT UP!” Sparks scorched the ground near Neon’s legs

Neon’s anger turned to regret “They gave me training for it and helped me make the best of it.”

Neon began to smile a bit as an arc of electricity moved up her hand

“I’m sure we’ll do the same for you.”

Once you could move, you and her walked back to a extraction point

“Do you really think they don’t want to use my power for themselves? You were sent on this mission right?”

“I volunteered for this, Y/N. You won’t have to fight unless you want to but we have Radiants that want to help you control your abilities.”

It wasn’t much reassurance without definitive proof, but it was good to hear as you stepped onto the VTOL

“Plus you’ll train with me Y/N. So I’m hoping you decide to stay with us so we can have a rematch.”

Neon fidgeted in her chair at the conference with Brimstone and Sage. Reyna stood in the back eying you over and occasionally muttering something in Spanish

“Y/N, your power is going to make the difference in the fight against Omega Earth. We need you to back us up.”

“I- I want to but I’m not,”

Neon looked over at you and her nervousness switched something in you

“I can get ready for the field. I’m on board sir.” Neon relaxed at your response

“Good Y/N, glad to have you here. We’ll enter some information for your file, in the meantime Neon can show you to the gym for a physical assessment.”

He passed her a tablet

Neon led you around the protocol and took you to the training area. She took the tablet Brimstone gave her and had you start the tests

It wasn’t a great couple of hours, especially because Neon kept her eyes on you struggling the entire time

Finally the running test came up, and Neon readied a stopwatch

“Y/N, do you want to race?” Neon tossed the stopwatch in the air towards you

“Sure,” you caught the watch and readied it. “Go!”

She cleared the mile in under 7 minutes without her power before taking the watch

“Beat that Y/N.”

Your mile was about 9 minutes, which was expected from someone who didn’t run often. Neon did tone her taunting down during the run which was a welcome change

“So…Y/N what callsign do you want? I have to put one here so what do you want?”

“I don’t really have anything. I would pick something about running or escaping-” Neon looked up disapprovingly “-but I guess that’s your thing right.”

“Well you aren’t fast, just hard to keep in the same place. Like a nomad. Oh that could work!”

Neon put down Nomad in name entry

“We even sort of match too. I like Nomad, enter it in!” You nodded to her and got ready for the next step in becoming an agent

Reyna

“Tienes miedo? I love a good chase Y/N.” Reyna’s voice barely held her sadistic excitement back

Carefully, you hid behind cover while Reyna stalked through the courtyard of Sunset. Loading your pistol, you sprang from the cover and opened fire

A glaring eye filled your vision, and you shot blindly at the space. The bullets dissipated the eye, but Reyna was gone

“I’ve heard so much about you, your power. Don’t disappoint me.” Reyna’s skin turned to shadows and glowed with unnatural energy

“I WON’T!” you bellowed. Particles of radiant energy spiraled around your body and blasted straight through Reyna

She made no effort to dodge your most powerful blast as it corkscrewed into her. At first you thought she was going to die

It was much more terrifying than that

Reyna walked calmly through the beam toward you, her intangible state keeping her from damage. The blast lost power and stopped

“Que fuerte, but not enough.” Reyna grabbed your throat and slammed you to the ground

“If you struggle, I will continue to have fun with you.” Her grip tightened to emphasize the point

“I’m not joining your damn organization. You and Kingdom are all the same, just preying on Radiants.”

“QUE DEMONIOS ME DIJISTE?” Reyna yelled, she drove her nails into your neck. “I- We are nothing like them.”

Her outrage was enough to quiet you down

“Kingdom is our enemy Y/N, we can bring them down together. Join me and we will destroy them.” Reyna reached a hand out

You took it

Reyna leaned in and whispered in your ear

“Somos unido, contra el mundo. Do not forget they are terrified of us.”

Reyna sat at your side at the table in the conference room. Brimstone and Sage went over the situation with Omega

“If Omega uses the mirror version of you, we would have a hell of a fight ahead of us without you to help us out.” Brimstone gave a worried look to the holographic files

“Don’t worry, I’ll join the protocol if I can make a difference.”

“Come with me Y/N, we will see how useful you can be to us.” Reyna took your arm and moved you to the training room

A few bots appeared and Reyna took a seat

“Go on, end them Y/N.”

It took little effort to turn the bots into scrap metal and burnt plastic. In your elation, you blasted a hole in the window near Reyna

“Que increible Y/N, you certainly have potential.” She ran her fingers over the scorch marked bots

“The protocol requires a callsign,” she passed you a tablet with an input. “I would put in my suggestions but I don’t want to speak for you.”

“Wait, what did you have in mind?” you looked over to Reyna while she leaned against the exit

“Pues, I was thinking something that felt unburdened. Something freeing. Viajero, no como se dice,” she paused feeling for the English word, “Nomad.”

“It means someone on the run or that moves around. That does sound like me.”

“Claro, I think it suits you perfectly Y/N. Now, let's begin your training and sharpen your strength.”

She sauntered across the room and started up more bots

“Mataremos, Nomad.” You and Reyna tore into them together

Sage

“Do not make me pursue you further Y/N, I wish no harm on you.” Sage cried to you

“Then let me leave,” you readied an energy bolt, “I doubt you could even hurt me!” You shot, directly into her chest

“So be it.” Sage muttered

Jade, tougher than steel, coated her hands and began to work into her skin. Life energy flowed in and she rose up

Her skin healed as she charged you. You burnt through your power to launch a vortex of radiant energy

The sphere engulfed her, but when it passed she was completely gone to your surprise. A hand landed on your shoulder, then a chop connected to your temple

Sage had catapulted herself over the vortex using her wall, and gotten directly behind you

As a monk, she was adept in martial arts. It didn’t help that the barrage of fists, palms, and kicks was hard as iron

You tried to swing back, but couldn’t move. Sage coated you in jade, effectively restraining you with every blow

“Do you doubt I could hurt you now Y/N?” Sage’s tone was retributive but took satisfaction in her position over you

“I don’t care what you try, you can’t force me to work with Valorant. You chased me down like an animal, just like Kingdom.”

“We did pursue you Y/N, but we aren’t like Kingdom. We want to help you, not use you.”

“I’m not interested in what you have to say, I’ll break free eventually.”

“No you won’t, it is unmoving and you are too. I want you to see what Valorant truly is, not what you think it is.”

“I don’t give a shit what Valorant is, you tracked me and trapped me in this.”

“We tried to bring you in but you refused because you thought we were Kingdom. I want to prove we’re better than them.”

“By encasing me in rock and hauling me somewhere against my will? Just like Kingdom tried before?”

“You’d run away otherwise, and I went easy on you. I could have broken your legs and healed them later, but I wanted you to see we aren’t cruel.”

It was true, she had held back enough not to render you unconscious or cripple you. Plus she didn’t sound like she was lying, her tone was honest

“I don’t know if I can fully trust you, but if you want to show me Valorant I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“Not particularly, but I promise you are safe while under my watch.”

She had your petrified body loaded onto a VTOL and flown to the HQ

Once you had been briefed, and Sage released you, she passed you a keycard. Brimstone finished his report on Omega

“Y/N, please lend us your aid.” Sage pleaded

“I’m in, don’t worry. I was wrong about you all, I’m happy to join.”

“Sage, take Y/N to the clinic and give them a check up. I’ll finish Y/N’s file and send word to the agents that we have a new member.”

You and her went over to the clinic and she sat you down on the table before taking a few instruments out

“Y/N, please remove your clothes.” she took a tablet and started marking things as you cautiously took your clothing off. You blushed the entire time

Sage moved quickly, giving you questions while she looked you over. She finished her check up and had you dress back up

“Y/N, do not worry I have seen the entire protocol naked. I am just doing my job.”

“I know, it’s just strange because I don’t know you that well.”

“Then I hope we become close,” Sage smiled at you, “I must ask you about what you want to use for a callsign.”

“I didn’t think about that. Do you have any ideas?”

Sage responded with a long pause

“I suppose something that suggests your strengths. You are flexible and spirited.”

“Do you have anything that sounds like either of those?”

“Would you accept Nomad? It is the word for people that have no single place they call home.”

“Nomad…” you thought about it for a second.

“I love it!”

“Wonderful, now let’s finish your recruitment Nomad.”

Jett

“I’m not gonna work with the woman that destroyed Venice!” you screamed as you launched a volley of energy at Jett

The backstreets of Split had turned into a storm of bullets and radiant explosions, Jett was lurking in the rafters while you stuck to the ground

She nimbly dashed from cover to avoid the bursts of plasma, then took aim with her Vandal

“Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jett’s serious tone cut through the chaos. Her gun ran dry and she began to reload

“You can’t lie to me! I’m never joining Valorant!” A gathering of particles rushed through your hands, charging a pulse of energy that blasted Jett from cover

Her body flew through the air from the force, and you watched with satisfaction. Then she suspended herself in midair, turning to you

“I’m done with your shit, Y/N.” Jett summoned her knives, and sent them for you

Acting quickly, you used the rest of your energy to blast the knives from their paths. Each failed to connect as the knives moved on their own, weaving around

Blades sped past you, then sinking into your clothes and pinning you to the ground. Jett drifted down and knelt next to you, a smug grin painted on her face

“So,” a blade twirled over her finger, “care to correct what you said about me and Venice?”

“I saw the footage, it was you. I won’t work for people who shelter a monster.”

“IT WASN’T ME!” Jett’s control slipped and the knife embedded itself next to your neck

“She took everything from me,” a few tears fell down from Jett’s cheek. “You of all people should know what being slandered feels like!”

It was true Kingdom had done their best to scare the public after they lost track of you, and wasted no time showing how dangerous you were

“You want me to feel bad for you when you’re hunting me like them? They took so much from me and you’re no different.”

“Y/N, you don’t have anywhere to go. Valorant stood with me against the world, I stay with them because they know I’m not the enemy.”

Silence gave you time to digest how genuine she was being. You could see how wounded she was and what Valorant meant to her

“I want them to help you Y/N. We both had our lives ruined but Valorant is our second chance.”

“I’m not against it, but even if I was you’ve already caught me.”

Jett rolled her eyes and helped you up

“Valorant will help you, it’s like a second family to me. I hope it becomes that for you too.”

The fact Jett’s double had ruined her life was made clear to you once you were in the care of Valorant

Her anger flared whenever the photo would appear in the report Brimstone gave you. Wind would pick up in the room, moving papers about

You signed on immediately when you realized that you could make a difference and stop the mirrors from unleashing more Spikes

“Jett, I’m sure Y/N is going to need some help navigating the protocol. Do you mind giving them a tour of the premises?”

“Yeah, let’s go Y/N. This place is huge so we should start now.”

You and Jett took a walk through the corridors of Valorant. Jett took you first to the training room and showed you the scoresheet

“As you can see, I have some high marks but no big deal.” Jett gloated, making sure a nearby Phoenix could hear here

She took you next to the living quarters and introduced you to Killjoy and Raze, both of whom greeted you excitedly

Jett next took you to the cafeteria, mainly to flex the fact she cooked last night

“I bet you’re hungry after everything, we can probably take a minute here and have some of the chap chae I made.”

You and her reheated the noodles and added some onions and carrots to it

“So Y/N,” Jett practically inhaled her food, “what were you thinking for a codename?”

You finished a bit of food, “I don’t really know what I’d go with.”

“How about Nomad? I mean it makes sense ‘cause you’re hard to catch. Plus it sounds cool.”

“It does, we should use that!” you agreed

You and her finished up and cleaned your plates, then finished the tour

“Y/N, Nomad, tomorrow Phoenix, Neon, and I are gonna get together for movie night. You should totally join us!”

“I’ll be there!”

Deadlock

“Don’t try and run Y/N, you can’t escape me.” Deadlock’s eyes trained on you, watching for any movement

She had you at gunpoint, pointing a Phantom at your chest ready to fire. Her finger was slightly above the trigger

“Nobody is taking me prisoner!” you shouted before leaping out of the way and phasing into energy

Deadlock fired through you, the bullets disintegrating as they passed through you. You sprinted through a wall and detransformed

That wasn’t so bad you thought to yourself as you began to make your way across the room you had entered

A beeping noise caught your attention as you exited, you searched for its source. Then you looked to your left and saw the Sound Sensor

It concussed you and sent you reeling into the main room of the Kingdom outpost. You spotted the exit on the second floor and dashed up the stairs

“YOU’RE NOT LEAVING MY TERRITORY Y/N!” a yell caught you off guard. A blue string floated in front of your face for a single second

Then an onslaught of fibres wrapped your arms and legs, restraining you. You did everything you could to escape but it was too late

The cocoon floated somewhere, but a brief minute later you felt yourself being picked up and carried outside

Bitter cold crept in through the gaps in the nanowire, causing you to shiver. Then you felt yourself being rested on snow

A knife cut through the web, a centimeter from your face. It opened your face up to the chilling weather and Deadlock’s stoic expression

“Are you cold? You keep moving like you’re shivering.” Her voice was flat, unbothered by the freezing winds

“I-I’m f-f-fine, I don’t, n-need any he-help.” you did your best not to let her notice your teeth chattering

“You are an awful liar, we’re going back to the station.” Deadlock began a march back and threw you over her shoulder

“Put me down!”

“You’ll freeze Y/N, I don’t want you to get frostbite.”

“Why? You opened fire at me why does it matter if I get cold?”

“I know you don’t deserve to suffer out here, and I didn’t shoot to kill. Valorant sent me to collect you but we won’t mistreat you.”

“You’re part of Kingdom, I know you are.”

“I’m not, when our extraction arrives we’ll take you to our headquarters and you can see that we have your best interests at heart.”

You went silent, confused at the fact she was taking you back to the outpost instead of directly to her allies. It wasn’t something a typical mercenary or Kingdom would do

“How long until they arrive?”

“A few minutes from now.” Deadlock shut the door and laid you against a wall near a heating vent

“Rest Y/N, I don’t want you to freeze.”

Hours later, you were in the tropics at the Valorant HQ

You exited Brimstone’s office with a newfound appreciation for Valorant. Your Mirror concerned both you and the agents around you

Brimstone had finished signing you up with the protocol, and you agreed to go to the armory to get an idea of what you would be training with

Deadlock led you through the headquarters, giving you a brief tour of the base before stopping at the weapon room

“Y/N, we are going to go over weaponry while the others finish notifying the protocol about you and readying your quarters.” Deadlock handed you a Guardian

“Take it and see how it feels.” She watched you explore the rifle and attempt to take it apart. Field stripping was not your strength

Deadlock began to help you, as well as go over the rest of the armory’s collection. You learned how to clean the guns which seemed to be enough for Deadlock

“I’ll have a kit sent to your room, but I have to ask what were you thinking for a code name?”

“Codename?”

“Every agent gets one, so we have to assign you one.” She referred to her own ID card and took a seat at the firing range

“Come on, I don’t have the slightest idea of what to put for one. What would you put?”

Looking upwards in thought, Deadlock paused for a second before meeting your gaze

“They gave me my name because I can stall the enemy. You specialize in moving and being unpredictable.”

You nodded in agreement

“Perhaps, Nomad?” Deadlock shrugged her shoulders

“You know that sounds good. Put Nomad as my codename please.” You felt the name around a bit before settling into the callsign

“Hey Deadlock,”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for the name and for not letting me freeze.”

“It was no trouble at all.”

(This might be the first of many -X Reader things, so follow me if you're interested. Comment your favorite parts so I know what people like to see!)

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stevie-petey · 5 months

Text

episode nine: the beginning

“No, I understand.” Steve smiles and then points to the wall of comics behind you. “So, if we’re going to be friends, I gotta ask about your Spider-Man obsession.” “Oh, now that’s just too personal. This is like, day three of our friendship. At least ask what my favorite color is, first.” Steve laughs again and nods. “Alright, fair. What is your favorite color, then?” And this is the beginning of your friendship with Steve Harrington.

summary: BONUS EPISODE TIME ! steve becomes bookstrorindary's favorite loyal costumer, jonathan buys you a bug for christmas, you freak out your poor coworker alex, and suddenly steve is really hot and you're feeling so many feelings (bad ! it's all bad !).

rating: general, some swearing

warnings: swearing, angst ending (sorry gang), fem!reader and use of y/n

words: 6.5k

before you swing in: surprise ! bonus chapter that takes place between seasons 1 and 2. basically, as the title says, it's the beginning of everything between steve and reader. this is where everything starts to take shape, their beginning dynamic, and ultimately the horrible timing of it all. life is hard, steve is hot, and reader just wants to heal her physical and metaphorical wounds. enjoy !

November 15th, 1983

When Steve Harrington walks into Bookstrordinary your first day back, you think your lingering concussion from the monster is causing you to hallucinate.

You had been struggling to reshelf some books, your crutches being a burden and hard to balance with as you stack, when the bell above the front door alerted you of someone’s arrival.

“Welcome to Bookstrordinary, how can I help you–” You place the last back in the shelf and turn around, not expecting who you see. “Steve?”

He smiles at you and shoves his hands in his bomber jacket. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So,” He shrugs, as if this is just another Monday for him. “I’m here.”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure what exactly to do. While you hadn’t been lying when you told Steve that you guys could be friends, you hadn’t expected him to jump at the opportunity so quickly. His eyebrow is still healing from his fight with Jonathan in the alley and you’re stuck with crutches for the next two weeks.

Wounds are still healing. You figured Steve would take some time to collect himself, but it appears that he simply doesn’t care, or maybe it doesn’t matter to him.

“How did you know I even worked here?�� You ask the boy, now making your way over to the front counter where he stands.

Steve chuckles. “You really can’t give me credit for anything, can you? I pay attention, Y/N. I can be observant.”

“It’s not like that,” you’re quick to correct, scared that Steve will think you see him as some mean jock. “I just… I’m not used to people paying attention to me, I guess.”

You pause and make a face, not liking the way that sounds. “That sounded incredibly gross and cheesy, huh?”

“No, I understand.” Steve smiles and then points to the wall of comics behind you. “So, if we’re going to be friends, I gotta ask about your Spider-Man obsession.”

“Oh, now that’s just too personal. This is like, day three of our friendship. At least ask what my favorite color is, first.”

Steve laughs again and nods. “Alright, fair. What is your favorite color, then?”

And this is the beginning of your friendship with Steve Harrington.

He spends almost two hours the first day at your job, asking you questions about yourself, your favorite food and color and animal, which genre of books you prefer, anything and everything he can think of to get to know you better, Steve asks it.

At first you’re unnerved by his onslaught of questions, but slowly you find yourself opening up to him and enjoying having Steve with you. He makes your last few hours of work bearable and fun. Before you know it, you begin asking him your own questions. You learn that he loves banana bread, secretly enjoys helping his mom around the house, and that blue is his favorite color.

When your coworker Alex walks in to take over the next shift and finds you leaning against the counter talking to Steve, he almost spits out the milkshake he had been drinking. “S–Steve Harrington?”

Steve tenses for a second and, before your very eyes, he morphs into his King Steve persona effortlessly. You’re not sure what exactly he changes about himself, but he becomes more closed off, guarded, with an air of authority that frightens you a little. “Hey, kid. Do I know you?”

Alex shakes his head, too stunned to speak.

“That’s my coworker, Alex.” You take pity on the poor kid. He’s only a year younger than you, but you suppose that a junior like Steve, someone well known and admired throughout the school, can be intimidating.

“Nice to meet ya, buddy. I’m assuming that Y/N here is off the clock now?”

“Y–yes.” Alex squeaks out.

The bell above the door rings again, this time announcing Jonathan’s arrival.

He walks in, distracted with some groceries in his arms, so when he finally looks up and sees you, Steve, and Alex all standing in a circle staring at him, he freezes. “Well, this is an interesting sight.”

Steve ducks his head, his King persona quickly fading away. “Hey, Jonathan.”

“Steve,” Jonathan responds cooly, looking between you and him as if trying to figure out a complex math equation.

Great.

You clear your throat and step away from Steve, heading to the back of the store to collect your things and clock out. “Just give me a minute or two to grab my things, then I’ll be all set to leave, Jonathan.”

He nods at you, still staring at Steve like he’s some foreign creature, and you quickly hobble away to avoid any interaction between them. You’re not sure why having the two of them in the same room as you feels so wrong, but your head still aches from its concussion and your ribs are so bruised that breathing still hurts, so you really don’t have the time to figure any of it out.

While you’re gone, Steve and Jonathan continue to stare each other down.

“Picking Y/N up?” Steve guesses, eyeing the keys in Jonathan’s hand and the groceries in the other.

“Yeah, kinda something I’ve always done.”

“Right.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on one of the grocery bags, having nothing better to do as he waits for you. Alex busies himself with rearranging some books at the counter, clearly equally as uncomfortable as the two teens are.

Steve lets a whistle out and awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets. Jonathan watches him in curiosity. The scab on his eyebrow has almost healed over, but Jonathan still gets a kick of pride seeing it. He’d done that. He’d marred King Steve’s handsome face.

“Are you, like… Y/N’s friend now?” Asks Jonathan, the question heavy on his mind. He trusts your judgment of people, he knows you can read people better than anyone else, but having Steve around you makes him uneasy. The guy had been a grade A dick to you and him for years, especially his bullshit friends Carol and Tommy.

“We made a compromise,” Steve says, a hint of humor in his voice.

Jonathan frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well–”

“Okay, let’s go!” You walk back in, fearful of whatever conversation you’ve interrupted.

Jonathan watches as Steve immediately turns to you, as if drawn in by your mere presence, and he starts to wonder exactly what the boy’s intentions are with you. All you did was walk into the room, and yet Steve is hanging onto your every word.

He doesn't blame him, god he doesn't. It’s you. You could command a room with just your smile alone, but Jonathan isn’t used to sharing that with others.

Especially not with people like Steve.

“Will you be working tomorrow?” Steve asks you, a twinkle in his eye.

You nod at him. “Mhm, I work every day after school. On weekends I’m usually home doing homework or keeping that one in check.”

You point at Jonathan, who laughs. “Guilty.”

“Then I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow?” Steve doesn’t even look over at Jonathan, which he rolls his eyes at.

“See ya then.” You smile wide at Steve and for some reason Jonathan really wants to throw the bag of eggs he’s holding.

This was not what he had been expecting when he told you earlier he’d be picking you up after getting his mom some groceries.

And had someone told Jonathan that the rest of sophomore year would go on like this, he probably would’ve thrown the bag of eggs at Steve then.

–

True to his word, Steve comes by and visits you almost every day leading up to winter break. He becomes a regular, hanging around the counter talking to you about anything and everything. The first few days you had been a bit nervous that your boss, Mrs. Waters, would have a problem with him, but she quickly dispelled your concerns.

“Oh, that handsome young man? He can stay as long as he likes. I think he’s the reason we’ve been getting so many young customers recently.”

You look around and realize that, yeah, there is in fact a new group of freshmen girls who have started stopping by and browsing the romance section. You’ve noticed the way they stop and stare at Steve while he talks to you, whispering and giggling to themselves.

Steve pays them no mind, always too busy talking about basketball or his latest issue with Nancy.

That’s been the one downside to all of this, really.

You’re happy the two of you are friends, but between Jonathan’s moaning about the girl and now Steve’s worrying that he’ll never be good enough, you’re kinda sick of talking about Nancy Wheeler.

Which is a shame, you actually quite admire the girl.

“And today she looked at me in the hallway and I think she even smiled–”

“Steve,” you interrupt him, a headache forming. “Like I’ve told you a million times now, she needs some time. It’s only been a few weeks, I think she’s still recovering from what happened at Jonathan’s. She also lost Barb, you can’t forget that.”

You don’t tell Steve about the whole Jonathan and Nancy situation, partly because it isn’t your place, and partly because you’re not sure if it will do more harm than good.

The boy nods, looking crestfallen. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I want to get this right, ya know?”

“I know, and you will. Just… let her come to you, but also show that you’re still there for her. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Got it. Stay at a distance, but in a smooth way.”

You snort. “Not how I would’ve phrased that, but sure.”

You go back to counting the change in your register, beginning the early stages of closing up for the night. Jonathan will be here in about twenty minutes, you’ve come to learn that if you distract Steve when he’s here, then there’s fewer awkward interactions.

You’re hoping that once Nancy figures out which boy she wants that you can then all be friends, but until then you’re stuck with being an uncomfortable middleman who just wants to drive home with you best friend in peace after spending a lovely evening with your new and endearing friend.

Speaking of your new and endearing friend, Steve begins to tap his fingers against the countertop, fidgeting around. Amongst the many things you’ve learned about Steve these last few weeks, you’ve also learned that he absolutely hates silence and standing still.

“Okay,” you place your hand over his fingers, stopping his tapping. “I’m going to start closing, how about I give you a list of the books and comics I need to bring home with me? It’ll make closing go by faster.”

Steve perks up, happy to be given something to do. “Alright, I can do that. What are they for, though?”

“Most of the comics will be for the boys; it'll be their Christmas gifts. The rest, the books mostly, will be for myself. I like to add them to my bookshelf at home.”

“No way,” Steve’s eyes light up and he leans in close, a teasing smile on his face. “Am I about to get a look into Y/N Henderson’s mind?”

You shoo him off your counter, grabbing your crutches to start restocking books for tomorrow. Steve follows close behind, carefully watching your steps to make sure you don’t fall. “I wouldn’t be too happy, I doubt you’d be able to figure out which comics are for me and which are for the kids. As for the books… well, guess I’ll have to make you sign a contract stating our friendship is legally binding. Can’t embarrass myself.”

“I’d gladly sign it,” Steve says, without even hesitating.

You stumble a bit and he’s quick to steady you. Steve does that sometimes, says things that make you feel like you feel hazy and warm. Too warm. You’re not used to his candidness yet; Steve doesn’t hide how he’s feeling, he’s an open book.

You’re not sure if his open vulnerability is a good thing, but you’re slowly starting to find it nice. Pleasant, almost.

“Anyways,” you shake your head, trying to clear your mind and ignore whatever cologne Steve is wearing that makes your head spin. “The list is in my backpack by the counter. Grab it and start hunting, soldier.”

Steve salutes you and does as he’s told. In no time he’s wandering the bookstore, humming to himself as he skims the many shelves and aisles to find everything you need. You busy yourself with your own job, arranging a new shipment of books so that Alex has a calm opening shift the next morning.

The freshmen girls have long since left, leaving you and Steve alone. Mrs. Waters is somewhere in her office, probably seeing if there’s any way to hire Steve, and it’s nice being alone with him. The two of you work silently side by side, he diligently works on his task and you can’t help but sneak a few glances when he’s not looking.

Steve Harrington has always been attractive, you can’t deny that, but learning this gentler and nerdier side of him has only increased his attractiveness tenfold. Pair him with Nancy and it’s no wonder the two of them were such a hit at school. They make a beautiful pair, something you almost envy.

Just as you’ve finished stacking the last of the new shipment, the bell rings in the store. You look up, seeing Jonathan, and feel yourself smile. He looks more tired today, though you suppose it’s because he’s basically become the kids’ chauffeur now that he’s no longer working. He claims that he doesn’t mind, but you know he secretly wishes you were there to help.

“Rough day, bee?”

He nods, walking over to you and places his head against your shoulder, letting out a dramatic groan. “Dustin insisted I drive them to the quarry to reenact Will’s body being retrieved. It was morbid, and yet… Kinda funny.”

“I…” you’re speechless, in complete disbelief. “Those boys are horrible, I love their freakish little brains.”

“What’d they do now?” Steve appears, a giant stack of comics and books in his arms. “Hey, Jonathan.”

“Steve,”

You gently remove Jonathan from your shoulder and face Steve. “They reenacted Will’s dead body being found in the quarry. A typical Friday afternoon, really.”

Steve’s jaw drops, equally as speechless as you were, and you and Jonathan laugh at him. “They sound insane.”

“If we’re going to be friends, you really gotta get used to the boys.” You tell him with a shrug.

Jonathan walks over to the counter and grabs your backpack, then goes to Steve and holds it open, motioning for him to place all the comics and books in there. “She’s right, you know.”

Steve lets a chuckle out, a hint of nervousness mixed in with delight as he drops your stuff in the bag. “I know, she’s always right. That’s what scares me.”

You blush and leave the boys on their own to go inform Mrs. Waters that you’re closing up. You hear them start whispering to each other as you leave, and you make a mental note to badger Jonathan about it on the drive home. While you’re relieved they seem to be getting along tonight, you absolutely cannot have them forming an alliance against you. They’d lose, of course, but still.

–

Winter break comes and you spend the first half of it with your family and the Byers. Your mom has slowly started letting you out the house again. When you came home with a sprained ankle, crutches, and bruised ribs, she’d almost fainted. You were promptly placed under house arrest, only allowed out for work and school, but you didn’t mind.

It takes some pleading, you manage to convince her to allow you to bike to the Byers’ on Christmas to deliver your treats for them. When she agreed, you were giddy, finally having some time to yourself.

Though it’s snowing, you enjoy the beautiful serenity of it all. The layer of white, untouched and pristine, falling around the pine trees like a blanket tucking you in after a long day, makes you smile.

It’s always so lovely seeing Will and Joyce and you wish you could stay longer, but your mom had been firm when she told you to be back within the hour, so you deliver the cookies and bid your farewells before Jonathan drives you home.

After your conversation, making him promise that things will always remain the same between you two, the car ride is silent once more. You’re okay with this, finding that you’ve come to miss your comfortable silences with Jonathan. They’ve become few and far between ever since Will’s reappearance. You’ve both been busy attending to him and the boys, trying to make everything as normal as possible again.

When Jonathan pulls into your driveway, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over to kiss his cheek, but he stops you. “Hold on, I figured we’d do our gift exchange early this year.”

You gasp. “Did you plan this?”

For years now, you and Jonathan have given each other your gifts the day after Christmas so that it’s just the two of you, no one else, experiencing the moment. You love the tradition, it’s become your favorite part of Christmas.

“Maybe,” he laughs, wrapping around his seat to get to the back. He pulls out a small box that’s so poorly wrapped, you know he did it all by himself. “Here, open it.”

“But your gift is inside, I didn’t–”

“Shush and open the gift, damnit.”

“How sweet,” you tease, but eagerly begin tearing at the wrapping paper. Jonathan has always given you the most obscure and wonderful gifts, every year he somehow manages to surprise you. You tear off the last piece of wrapping paper and open the small box, gasping when you see what’s inside. “Jonathan… you didn’t.”

Inside the box is a beautiful silver necklace. The chain itself is simple, it’s the pendant attached to it that takes your breath away.

Dangling from the necklace is a bee, no bigger than a centimeter or so.

There’s small diamonds in its wings and the necklace itself is minimal, something you’d only notice if you were paying attention, and it’s the most precious gift you’ve ever been given. You touch it delicately, the metal cool against your fingertips.

Jonathan gives you a boyish smile. “Figured we could match.”

“What–” He raises his right hand and for the first time you notice a ring on his index finger. You gasp again and snatch his hand, bringing it closer to your face so you can get a better look. The ring has a thick silver band, and there, in its center, is a ladybug as small as your bee. The ladybug is all silver, its wings integrated through the ring’s band. “Jonathan…”

“Do you like it? I found the jewelry at a garage sale this summer. Came as a pair,” Jonathan wraps the hand you’re inspecting around your own. “Almost like fate knew I’d find it for us, ya know? Bug and bee, you and me.”

You have so many things you want to say, but the words are stuck in your throat and all you want to do is grab Jonathan and pull him in and never, ever let him go. “You’ve had the jewelry for months?”

“Hardest secret I’ve had to keep from you, honestly.”

You laugh and cry and kiss Jonathan’s cheek a million times. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Things are finally starting to feel alright again. Here the two of you are, parked in your driveway in Jonathan’s rundown car, off in your own little world for the first time in months. It’s just the two of you, no one else, with only the falling snow as your company.

You couldn’t be happier. You feel complete again, whole, with Jonathan’s pinky promise from earlier as your oath.

“I feel bad,” you say as Jonathan walks you to your door. “For Christmas all I got you were cassettes. Had I known you were being sentimental this year I would’ve given you a lock of my hair or something.”

Jonathan laughs, and the sound doesn’t hurt you as much as it used to.

–

Working the day after Christmas has always been your favorite shift. No one ever comes in, it’s always just been you, your books, and your comics for five blissful hours.

Somehow, you should’ve known that Steve would stop by anyways.

You’re admiring your new necklace in a mirror when he walks in, all bundled up due to the flurry of snow that’s encasing Hawkins.

“How do you always manage to know when I’ll be working?” You ask him in lieu of a greeting.

Steve unzips his coat and hangs it up. “A magician never reveals his secrets, Y/N.”

“Boring, I say they should.”

“Well,” he walks over with both hands behind his back, hiding something, which you raise your eyebrows at. “Instead of my secrets, can we compromise on revealing a gift instead?”

You gape at him. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Steve! I didn’t even get you anything, I hate being empty handed! This is literally my worst nightmare–”

Steve places the box on the counter with a devilish smile on his face. “Just shush and open it, Y/N.”

“But–”

“Open it.”

You sigh, very much against this entire thing, but curiosity gets the better of you. Steve has only been your friend for barely a month now, what could he have possibly gotten you? The wrapping is well done, vastly neater than Jonathan’s had been, which you comment on.

Steve blushes. “My mom sorta helped me wrap it.”

Something warm settles in your stomach at the idea of Steve’s mom helping him wrap his gift for you. “Tell her that I admire her tasteful wrapping skills.”

Steve chuckles and tells you he will, but he’s too focused on watching you slowly unwrap the gift. Inside is a rectangular box, thin but sturdy, and you look up at your friend curiously. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.” Steve says, giving you a duh look.

You roll your eyes at him but lift the box’s lid and almost scream when you see what’s inside.

Steve anxiously studies your reaction, seeing the way your eyes widen comically and you throw your hands over your mouth to stifle a scream. You’re practically jumping up and down in your excitement to hold the framed poster up, and he feels relief wash over him. You seem to love the gift, he finally did something right.

“How the fuck did you get this?” You exclaim, studying the incredible details on the poster. It’s the cover of the very first edition of Spider-Man, Amazing Fantasy #15. You eyes scan over it and notice scrawled handwriting next to Spider-Man’s leg. “No, oh my god.”

“Notice anything special about it?” Steve leans against the counter with his arms crossed, a pleased smile on his face.

“It’s signed? By Stan fucking Lee?”

“Yup.”

You run out from behind the counter and engulf Steve in your arms. He’s stiff against you, having not expected such a reaction, but you don’t care. You bury your face in his chest and squeeze him, trying your best to exude your immense gratitude. “Thank you,”

Steve slowly relaxes into the embrace and wraps his arms around you, gently patting your back. “My dad knows a guy… Thought you’d like it.”

“I love it, Steve.” You whisper, your words muffled by his sweater.

You’re still wrapped in his arms, standing toe to toe with him, and you’re so happy it almost hurts. Steve’s arms are warm and strong and you feel him hesitantly rest his cheek atop of your head. He brings you in closer, secures his hold on you a little tighter, and you can smell that stupidly expensive and addicting cologne of his.

Steve is internally freaking out. Not only is he hugging you right now, but he’s surrounded by you. Your hair is against his cheek, your soft perfume overtakes his senses, and the sweater you’re wearing has Steve believing that everything about you is just warm and comforting and lovely. He wants to pull you in deeper, pull you into him, even.

He’s never been hugged like this before, so openly and with such sincerity.

He doesn’t want this moment to end, honestly.

Then your boss comes through the front door. “Well, hello there, children.”

You don’t necessarily pull away from Steve, letting an arm linger around him so that you can face your boss. “Hello, Mrs. Waters. We were just wrapping up, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

She waves you off, winking, and scurries over to her office. “Oh, don’t mind me! Carry on!”

You and Steve laugh, no ounce of tension between you. He seems carefree as always, and you have to refrain from pulling him into another hug. You look up at him, still toe to toe, so your head almost butts against his chin. “I sort the books, you stack?”

He smiles down at you. “Deal.”

–

Winter becomes spring and somehow you manage to finish sophomore year without any further problems. Jonathan remains by your side, Steve continues to visit you at work, and you even strike up a tentative friendship with Nancy.

It was hard at first, especially after she got back together with Steve, but Jonathan seemed to do well at burying down his feelings and insisted that the four of you could make things work, so you do.

Nancy is a joy to be around when you forget about the fact that Jonathan is hopelessly in love with her. She’s incredibly intelligent, cunning, and a great chemistry partner. Following the events of Will, you and her discover that by studying together, Kaminsky’s exams aren’t too difficult.

You often study together in the library while Jonathan sits across the table doing his own work. Slowly, Steve begins to join in as well. He usually spends your study sessions cracking jokes and bugging Jonathan, but after a while even he breaks down Jonathan’s stoic demeanor and strikes up their own hesitant relationship.

It’s not perfect, there’s still some underlying tension between you, Nancy, and Jonathan, but it’s enough.

Plus, it’s useful having Steve around whenever Jonathan and Nancy slip off into their own world. It’s become inevitable, something you’ve come to accept, but at least you can turn to Steve now and roll your eyes together.

It’s really nice, actually.

He eases the sting of losing Jonathan, even if he doesn’t realize it. Makes everything more bearable.

Summer comes and you don’t see Nancy as often, but Steve makes sure to visit your job whenever possible.

One day he comes in looking nervous and doesn’t do his usual greeting. He doesn’t wave, doesn’t flash you his signature smile, he just walks straight towards the counter with a frightened look on his face. “I need your help.”

You put the book you’d been reading down and immediately feel dread overwhelming you. Something is happening again, all those contracts you had to sign by Hawkins Lab are coming back to bite you in the ass. Will is in danger again. “Is everything okay?”

He must see the terrified look in your eyes and he quickly reassures you. “Oh, no it’s nothing serious, I just… I need your help with something.”

“Holy fuck,” you let out a breath, feeling your heartbeat start to return to normal. “Dude, after the whole monster fiasco, can we use some discretion when it comes to asking for help?”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s fine… So, what’s up?”

Steve looks around the store to ensure no one is listening, which you find a bit odd, but whatever. He leans in close and whispers, “I need your help finding a gift for Nancy.”

“A gift?”

“Yeah. It’ll be six months with her soon and I just, I don’t know. I want to be a good boyfriend and get her something she’ll like. But I don’t know what she’d like, I’m the worst gift giver ever.”

You frown. “That’s not true. The poster you got me is hanging in my room as we speak.”

“Thanks, Y/N. But Nancy is different, she’s… She’s still really shaken up about Barb and I want to make it up to her. Cheer her up, ya know?” Steve fiddles with his sunglasses, you’ve never seen him so closed off and guarded before.

“Okay, well. What did you have in mind?”

“Something she’ll love.” Steve thinks for a moment. “A diamond necklace, maybe?”

“Okay, woah.” You put your hand up to slow down Steve’s frantic ideas. “I know you mean well, but Nancy is like. Pretty well off. She can afford her own diamond necklace, but besides that, she’s not a very materialistic girl. She wouldn’t like a necklace.”

Steve sighs. “You’re right. That’s um, actually why I’m here.”

“Oh?” You’re intrigued now.

“Nance has been going on and on about this news article that came out recently. Something about politics, or maybe the weather?” You stare at Steve, urging him to get to the point. “Sorry, doesn’t matter. Okay, basically I know she likes journalism. And you work at a bookstore, so…”

“You want to get her some books on journalism?” You ask, your heart clenching. Here’s this guy, Steve fucking Harrington, who is gorgeous and kind and shyly asking you for book advice for a girl he so dearly loves.

Somehow you envy Nancy Wheeler even more than you already do. She really does have it all, and you can’t even begrudge her for it. She’s genuinely a nice person, it’d be easier to hate her if she was horrible, but she isn’t.

Typical.

“Is that dumb? Actually, you know what, now that I’m saying it out loud it sounds stupid–”

You grab Steve’s hand, interrupting him. “Hey, no. It’s actually a really sweet idea. I think… I think she’ll really love it.”

Steve looks relieved and you can’t help but pity him. He’s trying so hard to be better for Nancy, to be all she wants him to be, and yet just yesterday you had to break up a weird staring contest between Nancy and Jonathan when you’d been at her place picking up Will and Dustin.

Your heart aches for this boy, so in love with a girl you’re afraid may love your best friend.

You guide Steve over to the journalistic section of Bookstrordinary and tell him some of your personal favorites. It’s not your favorite genre, but you’re familiar enough with it to give Steve a good starting point, which he’s immensely grateful for.

“You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

Steve starts to search through the books and you leave him alone to get back to work. It’s a slow day today, the mid July heat seemingly keeping everyone at home, so you spend most of your time watching Steve. He meticulously goes through each and every book, spending almost three hours reading their synopses over and over again to ensure that he finds Nancy the best book.

Occasionally he mumbles to himself, shaking his head when a book doesn’t fit quite right with what he has in mind, or exclaiming with glee when he finds the perfect one. Slowly he accumulates his own little pile of books before he brings them over to you.

He places the stack on your counter with a proud smile on his face. “I’ll take these, please.”

You whistle at the pile. “Think it’ll be enough?”

“Do you think I need more?” Steve asks, fear in his voice.

“I’m kidding, Steve. This is more than enough; it’s perfect.”

You start ringing the books up and Steve leans against the counter, back into his usual stance at your job. The price racks up quickly, but you’re sure it’s no problem for someone like Steve. In total he’s selected six books for Nancy, and with each book you scan you feel more tugging at your heart.

He deserves better, but he wouldn’t listen to you if you told him.

“Thanks again, by the way.” Steve breaks the silence.

“For what?”

“For helping me. You’ve always been so patient with me, well–I don’t know. It’s nice.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.

You find yourself blushing as well, his words making you uneasy as always. “It’s nothing, Steve. We’re friends, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Well, I’ve never really had any friends before. I’m still new to this.” He confesses, looking away.

Again your heart aches for the boy. Here King Steve is, admitting to you that he’s never really had any friends before. You can’t imagine what that must be like, being so loved by a crowd of admirers yet isolated because of it.

You think about Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and the various people who seemed to flow in and out of Steve’s inner circle of friends. The numerous girls he never stayed with for long, the boys who only used him for his popularity, you never considered how exhausting that all must’ve been. Surrounded by all, yet loved by none.

Hell, even with Nancy, Steve has confessed to you that he feels like he’s too much for her sometimes.

“You’re a great friend, Steve.” You reassure him, trying to keep your voice level. You know that any hint of pity will only make him feel lesser than, but you really wish you could make him believe you. Steve Harrington has somehow become your favorite person to be around. “I promise, you’re a natural when it comes to friendship.”

Steve smiles. “You think so?”

“I know so. In fact,” you finish ringing Steve up and deduct your employee discount from his total, dropping the price significantly. “I just gave you my employee discount because that’s what friends do and I know you’ll do the same for me one day. That is, if you ever get a job.”

He puts his hands in the air. “Hey, the way I see it: why get a job when I don’t need one?”

“Such wise words from a rich kid.”

“What if the rich kid offered to buy you dinner to repay you?” Steve’s tone is teasing, but there’s openness in his eyes that makes you freeze. He wants you to say yes, he’s almost pleading with you to accept his offer with those big brown eyes that make you want to scream.

You want to say yes, to accept his offer and go out to dinner with him and laugh and tease each other’s food choices and feel like the only two people to exist in Hawkins, but you can’t.

Steve is looking at you with a softness in his eyes that catches in the July afternoon light, and you see the shift. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s looking at you as if he’d do whatever you asked, without any hesitation, because he cares about you in a way that no one quite has before.

Sure, you’ve noticed it before through his actions, but seeing the deep fondness behind his eyes is something entirely different. You feel this flutter within your chest and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. He’s looking at you as if you’re holding the goddamn sun, and you can’t do it.

You can’t tell Steve yes.

He’s Nancy’s. So is Jonathan.

You can’t develop feelings for yet another guy that Nancy Wheeler has claimed for herself.

You don’t love Steve, but you know how easily you could fall for him. With him, everything is easier. Your laughs feel freer, your heart a little lighter. With Steve, it feels like you’re coming home after being away for so long. First uncertain of what you’ve left behind, but then so full of love once you’re embraced with open arms as if no time has passed.

It would be so easy falling in love with Steve.

That’s why you tell him no.

“I can’t.” You finally say. It takes everything within you to get the words out, as if your body is physically unable to break Steve Harrington’s heart. But you have to.

Steve’s smile drops. “Oh, alright.”

You wrap up the last of the books for Nancy, take the cash from Steve, and then inform him that you have a lot of work to do before closing. “You should leave.”

“Already?” He looks so hurt and you want to just kiss his cheek, whisper how lovely he is.

But he’s too lovely. Too selfless towards you. Too kind and charismatic and easygoing.

He’s too much for you, but not in the way that plagues him with fear of rejection.

He’s too much for you because of how easily you could embrace him entirely, how willing you are to make room for him even if you already know there’s plenty of space for him regardless.

“Yeah,” you busy yourself with a meaningless pile of books. “Just go home, give Nancy those books.”

The words burn your tongue almost as much as your tears burn your eyes.

But you remind yourself of Jonathan, of how much it hurts to hear him say Nancy’s name like a prayer. How Steve describes her as if she’s the moon and he’s a lowly astronomer tasked with studying her.

You can’t keep putting yourself through this hurt.

It isn’t fair to yourself, and for once you need to be selfish.

Steve leaves, mumbling a soft goodbye, and you vow then and there to push him away. You’ve gotten too used to his company; you came too close to falling in love with yet another person who couldn’t possibly ever love you back.

So you limit your interactions with Steve.

You’re dismissive when he comes to your job the next day, then the next, and the next. He seems hurt at first, asking you if he’s done anything wrong, why you’re icing him out, but eventually after a few weeks he seems to let it go.

You’re thankful for that. For his ability to read you and understand that there’s something more, you just can’t tell him.

July turns to August and Steve stops coming by Bookstrordinary.

You go back to only spending time with the boys or Jonathan, rarely ever Nancy. You don’t see much of Steve, and sometimes it feels like last November never happened. Like he never came into your life and flipped it completely upside down. The only reminder that it had been real is the poster that hangs on your wall, taunting you for your cowardice.

Jonathan notices your change in demeanor, missing Steve more than you thought you would, but you make up some lie and change the topic. You know it’s for the better. It has to be for the better. And yet it feels like you’ve just lost something incredible. Something that could’ve been everything, an almost that you’ll never quite understand.

But you refuse to fall in love with Steve Harrington.

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taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @babylovesteve @bex22109 @rice-elephant

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #steve just wants love #n reader just wants to feel normal and okay again #ugh #wrong time for my babys

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novafire-is-thinking · 1 year

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Speculative Analysis: Why TFP Soundwave is so Terrifying to His Fellow Cybertronians

Time for an essay on why I think TFP Soundwave might have chosen his current cryptid form—electrical tentacles and all. There’s a TL;DR at the end, so feel free to scroll down first and then decide if you want to read the full thing.

This will involve cross-continuity speculation, centered around TFP / Aligned but with some IDW / MTMTE lore thrown in. This could also loosely apply to Bayverse Soundwave, but I won’t be focusing on him. I’m confident you all can infer the potential implications for that version of his character by the time you reach the end.

Okay, so I’ve seen several fellow TFP fans speculate about why Soundwave went from beefy gladiator to bonafide cryptid. Some say it could have been due to the loss of his horde of “minicons” (the term used in ‘Exodus’ by Alex Irvine). Others think it was just Soundwave’s way of adapting to the direction of the war by taking on a form that would give him the best strategic advantage in his position as Megatron’s communications officer. I agree with the latter, but I think there could be more to it than that.

As we see in the flashback for Ratchet’s story and the TFP Titan comics, Soundwave had his current frame type, armor, and alt mode back on Cybertron:

[Sarcastic Soundwave: Superior]

In the real world, Soundwave’s design is based on the MQ-9 Reaper military drone—an earth-based aircraft, but I’m not going to address that small discrepancy since it’s not relevant to this analysis. Skinny, cryptid drone Soundwave existing prior to his arrival on earth supports my theory anyway.

“Can’t we throw a tarp over him? He’s creepin’ me out.”

-Bulkhead in Minus One

On the surface, Bulkhead’s comment and Smokescreen’s subsequent response seem like an interaction between a couple of Autobots who are unnerved because they’re familiar with Soundwave’s reputation—Bulkhead more so than Smokescreen since the latter had probably not seen Soundwave up close in action before coming to earth. However, I think some of Bulkhead’s fear might have been due to an entirely different reason: Sparkeaters.

While reading MTMTE #3, my eyes were met with this lovely sight /s :

[Hey, wasn’t the energon eater in Rescue Bots called “Sparky” too? I guess it’s a cross-continuity tradition to call life-sucking parasites “Sparky” at least once.]

Terrifying? Yes. But I stared in horrified awe at this abomination and thought, “Wait. One. Fragging. Minute. I’m having a galaxy brain moment.”

Mind. Blown. Their overall sharp, jagged appearance, their thin, but formidable frames, their prehensile cables extending from somewhere inside (fuel lines for the sparkeater; multipurpose tentacles for Soundwave). I was—and still am—fascinated by the uncanny resemblance.

[Now who’s Sparky?]

It’s true that sparkeaters aren’t confirmed to be canon in the Aligned continuity, but their existence isn’t denied either. We got something similar with the zombie Terrorcons, but those were a new phenomenon produced either by Megatron’s blind ambition and stupidity or Knockout and Starscream’s lack of forethought and scientific restraint. For the sake of where I’m taking this, let’s assume that sparkeaters, as defined by IDW, do exist in the Aligned universe. What would this mean for Soundwave’s disturbing choice of frame/body type? Why choose a visual motif so strongly associated with death and disease?

One word: Mimicry

Mythologically, historically, and medically, sparkeaters are inseparable from death and disease. Their very existence instills fear in most Cybertronians. What better way for Soundwave to strike terror into the sparks of his enemies (and potential enemies) than to take on a physical form that resembles the sparkeater—something that has been known to kill normal Cybertronians using a deeply disturbing, painful, and even sacrilegious method? Even though the initial shock of seeing a “sparkeater” show up during or around a fight would have dissipated once the Autobots realized it was mostly cosmetic, an impression would have been left. Coupled with his spy capabilities and gladiator-style prowess in combat, a message would have been sent: Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

And there you have it, folks! Another reason to love Soundwave’s design.

Bonus:

I could see Soundwave being called a few things by allies and enemies alike: “The Decepticon Sparkeater,” “Soundwave the Sparkeater,” or just “The Sparkeater.”

An interaction between two Autobot scouts:

Scout 1, over comms: “You there, kid? Who is it? Who did Megatron send this time?”

Scout 2: “It’s The Sparkeater! He’s here!”

1: “You mean Soundwave!? Do you have a visual?”

2: “How many ‘Cons do we see walkin’ around looking like sparkeaters??? Of course it’s Soundwave! And yeah, I’ve got a visual.”

1: “Aw, hell. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

TL;DR: Soundwave may have put more thought into his appearance than is obvious. He may have opted to look like a sparkeater as a way of sending a highly effective warning.

#transformers prime #maccadam #tfp #tfp theory #tfp analysis #tfp meta #what if: cross continuity edition #tfp soundwave #//superior//#the phoenix of kaon #soundwave superior #idw transformers #tf idw #idw1 #MTMTE #robogore #sparkeaters #long post #nova’s nerding out again

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slut4thebroken · 1 year

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Exposure Therapy pt. 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your therapist tries a new method of treatment to help you with your fears.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, oral, p in v sex, fingering, fear play, crying, rape (again. I’m really emphasizing this lol), forced breeding, unprotected sex, threats of involuntary admission to asylum

Words | 3k

Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. Sure she’s attracted to him and trying not to think of it like that but it’s literally just rape. Final warning.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

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Prologue

You had been meeting with Dr. Crane for a few weeks now. You were mostly just talking, sometimes he’d have you try something to start to get you more comfortable living normally. But the progress was slow overall.

“There is another form of treatment we could try.” He suggested, setting his pen down on the notebook and giving you his full attention.

“If you think it’ll help.” You shrugged.

“Do you know what exposure therapy is?”

“Um… yeah. But isn’t that for phobias of bugs or heights?”

“Usually, yes. But those aren’t the only types of fear this technique can help with.”

“Oh… I’m not sure I understand, Dr. Crane.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” You nodded.

“In our first session you told me it feels like you’re living everyday waiting to become part of the statistic.”

“Yeah?”

“If you’re already part of the statistic, do you think you’ll still feel that way?”

“Um… I guess not? I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” He set his notebook and pen down on the coffee table, then stood up, making his way to the empty side of the couch as you stared at him in confusion.

“You’re lucky you came to me, you know. Most doctors don��t care enough to try everything possible to help their patients.” You gave a small smile in response, not able to talk before he continued. “In order for this to work you need to trust me completely, can you do that?”

“Yes, but I’m still not sure what it is you’re doing.” He stared at you for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh and taking off his glasses. He set them on the table, then met your gaze again.

“Studies show that patients who relive traumatic experiences in controlled environments can actually better overcome that trauma. Now in your case it’s slightly different because your fears were not born out of trauma, but I still think it can help.” He paused as he debated what to say next.

“With the kinks you’ve indulged in already, the environment might have been a little too controlled.” You furrowed your brows, trying to understand. “Putting you in a situation that is controlled, just not by you, should be effective.” He said, placing a hand on your thigh.

“Dr. Crane, what-“ He shushed you, slowly rubbing his hand up and down your thigh, each time getting closer to your skirt.

“You know, I thought about doing this at your house- maybe wear a mask so you didn’t know it was me. But that wouldn’t be controlled enough. So I knew it had to be here.” He said quietly, an unnerving smile on his lips. “With someone you trust.” When he slowly started leaning forward, you moved back until you were laying on the couch with him hovering above you.

“There’s nothing to be frightened of- I’m no heathen. This isn’t about committing a violent act against a defenseless woman, it’s about helping you work through your fears. I have every intention of making sure you can take me comfortably.” He maneuvered himself between your legs, your skirt rising as they parted. Your eyes widened at his words, finally understanding.

“I don’t- I don’t think I want to try this treatment.” You whimpered, shrinking back into the couch.

“You don’t know what you want. That’s why you’re here. If you knew how to help yourself, you wouldn’t have come to me.” He pawed at your clothes, pushing your cropped sweater up, then pulling your bra down beneath your breasts.

“If you behave, I can make this more comfortable for you. But if not, I’ll have to just get right to it, do you understand?” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared at him with wide, frightened, unable to move or speak. “Answer me.” He growled, making you flinch at the harsh tone.

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” He said simply, leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You laid there frozen, trembling beneath him, but despite your fear, you couldn’t deny the fact that what he was doing felt good. Maybe if this was someone else, someone you weren’t attracted to, then it’d be easier for your body to understand that this scenario was supposed to be bad. When his teeth lightly nipped at the sensitive bud, your breath hitched, making him pull back with a smirk.

“That’s it, see? Just let it happen and it’ll feel good.” He moved on to your other nipple, working it over in his mouth until he was satisfied. He pulled back with a wet pop and looked up at you through his lashes.

He moved down your body, but because of the small couch, decided to kneel on the floor. When he pulled you forward so your hips were on the edge, the movement caused your skirt to get stuck between the cushion and your ass, raising it even more, making your cheeks heat up. Your blush intensified as he pushed the fabric up until it rested around your waist.

“Shorts.” He said quietly to himself, placing his hands on your hips and tracing his thumbs over the fabric. “Do you wear this because you think this will help?” He asked, looking back at your face. You nodded silently, making his lips turn up in a small smirk. “Because of your obsession with statistics, you should know that clothing choices do not deter rapists.” He said, raising his brows questioningly.

“I know… it just makes me feel better.”

“So desperate for some semblance of control over your fears.” He chuckled quietly, making you frown in response. When he started pulling your shorts down, you grabbed his wrists. The look he gave you made you tremble even more, but you quickly relaxed your grip, letting him continue.

“Do something like that again and I'll skip this part, do you understand?”

“Please,” You whispered, holding back tears as he removed your shorts. “Please don’t do this.” You said through a sob when he reached for your underwear. He ignored you, pulling the fabric off your body and discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. You jolted when he suddenly swiped two fingers through your folds.

“See, you beg me not to, but you’re soaked. Is that why you’re so afraid? Because you know you’ll like it?” You clenched your eyes with a quiet sob and shook your head. When wet heat engulfed your clit, you choked on a gasp. He started out slow, licking and sucking delicately. You tried to control your hips and not let them buck toward the pleasure, but trying to do that as well as control your sounds proved to be a difficult feat.

It felt good. Honestly you’re not sure you’ve ever been eaten out this good in your life. He was almost as passionate about it as he was with his work. When he plunged two fingers into your drooling hole, you couldn’t help the low whine you let out. He looked up at you through his lashes, smirking against your sex.

Maybe if you just think of this as you finally getting to fuck the man who’s been plaguing your every thought for the past few weeks, then it won’t be as bad. After all, he did say he had no intention of making this painful for you. So it wouldn’t be too hard to think of this in a different light.

“You don’t seem scared anymore. Have you finally accepted it or is there another reason?” He asked, still curling his fingers against your walls.

“Maybe you’re dissociating to cope. Unfortunately if that’s the case… I am going to have to get you out of that state so you can experience the full extent of this treatment.” You stared at him almost blankly, trying desperately to not focus on his words.

“If this behavior persists in future sessions though, I might have to put you on antipsychotics.” That got your attention.

“Future sessions?” You all but scoffed, quickly closing your mouth after speaking to keep the sounds in.

“Yes, I’ll need to monitor you closely after this treatment. I think three meetings a week should be sufficient.” You swallowed down a whimper when his thumb started circling your clit, then forced yourself to respond.

“You seriously think I’m coming back here?” He swiftly removed his fingers, making you release a choked sound.

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to admit you.” He said, casually wiping your arousal off his fingers on your skirt.

“Admit me?”

“To Arkham Asylum.” He said simply.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Honestly, did you do any research before moving here?”

“N-no. I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else…” You muttered. He hummed in acknowledgement and stood up.

“Arkham Asylum is a psychiatric hospital in Gotham City, primarily housing the criminally insane. I am the acting chief psychiatrist there.” He shrugged off his jacket, placing it over the coffee table.

“I’m not criminally insane.” You said skeptically, rising to a sitting position just in case you’ll have an opportunity to run.

“No? That’s not what my diagnosis tells me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You spat, feeling your heart pound harder in your chest.

“Maybe you weren’t criminally insane when we first started our sessions. But yesterday you went through something traumatic that triggered a psychotic break, causing you to try to harm me during our meeting today.” You stared at him in shock, too caught off guard to say anything. “Which is why I’ve deemed you a threat to yourself and others and recommend immediate hospitalization for psychiatric evaluation.”

“You’re fucking insane.” You whispered, not sure what else to say.

“I’m simply a doctor who’s dedicated to studying the effects of fear on the human mind. And I have to say, I am very excited to study yours.”

“So- what, you’re just going to have me committed? As soon as I have the evaluation I’m going to tell them everything.” He let out a dark chuckle and gave you a knowing look.

“Truly brilliant plan. I’m looking forward to seeing how it works out when I evaluate you.” Any and all confidence or leverage you might’ve had was gone in an instant.

“Then… I- I’ll say I want someone else.” You said quietly.

“Were you not listening when I said I’m the chief psychiatrist there? I'm the one who decides who evaluates you.”

“But- that’s a conflict of interest.” He smirked as you floundered for a suitable threat.

“That’s the beauty of Gotham. Everyone and everything here is corrupt. No one cares if there’s a conflict of interest.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling trapped and out of options. “But don’t worry, I won’t start my research until you’re officially a patient. Today is just about your treatment.”

He was on you before you could even blink, pinning you down by your neck with one hand, the other opening his pants just enough to take his cock out. As you clawed at his arm and his face, you realized the consequences of anxiously picking at your nails- they did nothing to harm him.

“No-“ You cried, trying to push him away when the blunt head of his cock bushed your slit. “Stop- Help!” You yelled, making him tighten his grip on your neck and push down on your windpipe.

“No one can hear you so shut up.” He hissed, pushing his hips forward. Your body tensed at the pressure against your hole. When his length finally pushed in, you tried to let out a pained scream, but the only noise you could make was a pathetic squeak. He let out a low groan, closing his eyes with furrowed brows and opening his mouth in a silent moan.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He said through a moan. He continued pushing in until his hips were flush with your body. The pressure on your cervix was almost unbearable and you silently begged him to not stay here long. “You’re so wet. Why is that?” His voice was strained as he tried to control his arousal. His grip loosened on your neck and you took in a huge breath, then started coughing.

“Fuck you.” You rasped, throat a little sore.

“I always love the mouthy ones. Makes it all the more satisfying when they break.” He sneered. You sighed in relief as the pressure on your cervix decreased while he slowly pulled out. But as he slammed back in, you weren’t sure what hurt more: the pressure on your cervix or the burning stretch of your walls. His pace picked up quickly until he was pounding your abused hole relentlessly, even with your cries and pleads for him to stop. He shushed you, gently brushing your hair behind your ear, making you flinch away from his touch.

“Calm down. It’ll feel good once you relax.” He said, almost annoyed. You cried silently, arms laying limp by your sides after trying unsuccessfully to push him away for several minutes. You just wanted to get it over with.

“Fuck- this pussy feels good. When you’re locked away, I’m going to make sure we have daily sessions to continue your treatment.” You let out a choked sob and shook your head.

“No,” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks, making him buck his hips even faster. “No- please.” You whimpered.

“Yeah. It’s not effective as a one time thing. This kind of treatment needs to be done regularly, in fact, we might have to have more than one session a day.” You sobbed silently, trying to just dissociate again or something- anything. But the brutal pounding of his cock made it hard to focus on anything else.

“I forgot to tell you- this treatment isn’t only for your fear of being raped.” You stared at him blankly as you processed his words, eyes widening once you understood.

“No-“ You said, much more assertive this time. But he was not deterred.

“Yes.” He growled, rutting into you animalistically as he chased his pleasure. “I’m gonna come in this tight little cunt and you’re going to take every drop.”

“No!” Your arms were active again, desperately working to push him away.

“If you behave and be a good little inmate, then maybe I’ll let you keep taking birth control.”

“Please,” You choked out, “Please don’t do this, Dr. Crane.” You cried, feeling the knot of arousal in your stomach, despite your words.

“As hot as the begging is, if you keep running that little fuck hole, I will take away your contraceptive privileges.” You had no reason to not believe him, so you obeyed, only letting out violent sobs. “That’s better. Good girl.” He groaned, putting a hand back on your neck. His hips snapped into you ruthlessly, your hole aching out of discomfort and desperation and your breasts moving embarrassingly with each thrust, adding to your shame. When he reached a hand down to your clit, you muttered out a quiet, “No,” and shook your head.

“I know you’re about to come. Just give in.” His fingers rubbed fast circles over it, making your hips twitch from the friction. And he was right. You were about to come, especially now that he was stimulating your clit. You tried to hold it, to not let yourself give him an obvious display of your unwanted pleasure, but it was useless. You came with a cry, this one more like a moan than a sob. His hips stuttered as your walls convulsed around him, but he never stopped thrusting.

After you finished, he removed his fingers and focused on his own orgasm, not needing much more before burying himself inside you, uncomfortably deep. Your sobbing intensified as you felt hot come coating your walls.

“Fuck- that’s it. Take it- take my come. Right in your fucking womb.” He growled, reaching a hand down to press on your lower stomach. “Can you feel how deep I am? Can you feel me right up against your cervix? You’re gonna have no choice but to get pregnant. Maybe not today… But I am going to knock you up eventually.” You let out a broken cry, laying completely still beneath him.

After coming down from his orgasm, he slowly dragged his cock out of you, then forced your legs open to watch his come leak out of your abused hole. He pushed it back in with a small smirk.

“We don’t want to waste any.” He explained. When he was satisfied, he rose from the couch, tucking himself back in his pants, then walked over to his desk. You watched through hazy eyes, blurry with unshed tears, as he searched for something.

I should try to run now, you thought. He’s distracted, I can probably do it. But your body could barely obey. With much effort, you rose to a seated position, trying to ready your wobbly legs to hold you up. Before you could though, he was already walking back to you, one hand pushing you back on the couch, the other behind his back. He clumsily righted your clothes as you laid there, defeated. When he brought his other hand up from behind his back, you stiffened at the sight of a syringe.

“What is that?” You muttered, trying to push yourself away from him, further into the couch.

“A sedative. Someone is going to pick you up and take you to a holding room. I should be there to evaluate you by the time you wake up.” You shook your head as your heart started pounding in your chest again.

“No- no, please. Please, I don't want to go.” You whimpered, flinching back when he grabbed your cheeks and turned your head to the side. Before you could react, the needle was already puncturing your skin. “Please don’t. I don’t wanna go.” You slurred, eyes growing heavy, and he shushed you gently.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Part 2

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #exposure therapy #crying #jonathan crane smut

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bump1nthen1ght · 1 year

Text

All the better to eat you with (Werewolf x M!Reader)

Pairing: Male!Werewolf x Male!Reader

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Explicit Content ahead (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 2004 words

Summary: You're walking the familiar path to grandma's house, when a friendly stranger offers you some protection. Unbeknownst to you, everything comes with a price.

Request: Can i request for a werewolf x male reader with knotting and breeding kink please? And can you like maybe make it base of the little red riding hood? Thank so much in advance bye!

“Y’know, red is a really good color on you.”

The stranger remarks, holding up the bottom of your red riding cloak. His voice is almost a purr, that lascivious smile on his face only a little bit off-putting.

“T-thanks, this is one of my favorites.” You brush off some imaginary dust from the cloak, feeling bashful under his undivided attention. “I have a blue one as well, but this used to be my older brother’s so…it’s kind of sentimental.”

The stranger smiles again, that genuine and unnerving kind.

“Well, I love it. I think red might be your signature color.”

The stranger throws a large arm over you shoulder, pulling you to his side as you walk. You nearly yelp st the sheer force, noticing just how tall he is; When standing right next to each other, you barely each his shoulder.

“Yeah, m-me too.”

—

Your mother had told you that there were dangerous things in the woods, but the stranger didn’t seem to be one of them. Even with his wide, wild eyes and his far-too big grin, he had offered to accompany you on the long journey to your grandmothers house. You had politely declined at first, you were a grown man and walked this path plenty of times before, but he had insisted. Not in a creepy way more like a…naive gentlemanly way.

You had given the stranger your name, to which he nodded and said you had a great name. He didn’t give you his, you didn’t press it.

He was enthusiastically touchy, talking your ear off with questions about your life and the food you had brought with you. He was an apt listener, his big yellow eyes never straying from your face as you talked. It was kind of nice, if only a little disconcerting.

So here you are, still by his side and only a mile left to your grandmother’s house. The sun was in the beginning stages of setting, but you would likely get to her home before dark. Even if not, the strong stranger gave you some comfort. He was built like an ox, with strong shoulders and a barrel chest. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t caught yourself staring at his figure a couple times. But hey, when he’s only wearing a tight undershirt, how could you not stare?

“We’re around 20 minutes away. Thanks again for walking me all the way here. I normally don’t mind walking alone but..this was quite nice.” You blush, trying to not let it show.

“Oh, it’s no problem! It wouldn’t be right if I had left a cute thing like yourself to fend by yourself.” He winks. “There are dangerous things in these woods, y’know. Things that would snatch you up in an instant.” He leans in close as he says that, his voice low and flirtatious.

You feel the hot blush across your face heat up even more. The stranger had been quite familiar this whole time, but never this direct. Maybe your stares weren’t so one-sided after all.

“Well, I guess I’m very lucky to have bumped into you, my knight in shining armor.” You chuckle, trying to match his coy way of flirting. It makes him laugh, but his wide eyes still stare you down, feasting on your entire body. “I’m sure my grandma would appreciate it too. Would you like to join us for dinner? She always has the best tea and biscuits.”

There's that cackling laugh again, all wheezes and smirks. His eyes crinkle up at the thought and you’re afraid he’s rejecting you, before he pats you on the shoulder. “I’ve never been invited in before! How sweet of you, little one, to offer someone like me inside.” He stops walking, the hand on your shoulder pulling you right alongside him. He turns you so you face directly towards him. His eyes are still lit up with that friendliness, his smile even wider, but there's something underneath it all. It’s something desperate, something knowing, something starved.

The stranger squeezes your shoulders together, making you wince a bit. His teeth seem whiter in the setting sun, larger, sharper. “Maybe next time, little red. But I think tonight I’m hungry for something else.” His voice purrs, his head cocking as he winks.

Before you can even suggest your grandmother make something else for dinner, he has you shoved up against the tree, your bodies moving faster than you thought possible. Your yelp is suffocated by his kiss, overwhelming and passionate. His large hands stop pinning your shoulders and instead wrap around your jaw, his large body now pressed against you and weighing you down. The moan you let out is downright pitiful and the stranger gobbles it up like a three-course meal. One of his hands moves down to caress your side, wandering down until he reaches your butt and squeezes. You yelp again, the stranger snickering into your mouth.

The stranger pulls away, saliva dripping from his lips as he forgets your head to the side so he can suck at your neck. Your hands claw up his back for purchase, too shell shocked to even speak. The stranger likes the feeling, like the feign of resistance, and growls into your neck.

“So perfect for me. So fucking perfect.” He laps and sucks at your jugular, nipping the skin around your jaw with desperation. You try to form words, but the breathe is knocked out of your when the sizable bulge in his trouser rubs against yours. He growls again, his hand squeezing your ass as he grinds into your crotch. You cant your hips upward, meeting the pleasure. The stranger chuckles. “Such a submissive little mate, so sweet for me.”

He hikes up one of your legs over his hip, grinding more fervently as he laps your skin. His warm drool drips down your neck, making your skin tingle. You moan again, digging your nails deeper into his back. The pain seems to make him more voracious, cackling as you scratch lines into his back.

The stranger finally moves back up to your mouth, trapping you in another hungry kiss.

“Say my name.” He orders, that crazed look still in his eyes.

“Oh..uh-” He barely lets you get out the question, forcing you into another kiss. When you get the chance to breathe, you mutter “I don’t-”

“It’s Mac.”

You nod your head, closing your eyes when he grinds against you. Biting your lip, you whisper, “M-Mac. That feels good.”

He finally pulls away from your mouth with a deranged smile, licking his chops.

“Perfect.”

Just like that he throws you to the ground, laying himself across you as he fiddles with your belt buckle. This has all been so overwhelming, so sudden, but you can’t say you hate it. Mac has got your blood searing, your cock raging hard.

Mac’s breath is heaving, was he always that hairy? On the ground, he almost seems bigger, impossibly so. He pants, a long tongue hanging out with his mouth. My…what big teeth he has.

You hear a shing, as if a blade was being unsheathed, then your pants are ripped open. Mac is pawing and tearing the fabric, sharp black claws cutting through like scissors. His eyes glow in the setting sun. What’s that on top of his head?

“I’m going to make you mine.” He mutters, sucking on two of his long fingers.

“What-” but you can’t even finish the sentence, Mac easing two of his fingers right into your asshole. Your cock jerks and your hips instinctually shove backward at the intrusion, but Mac keeps a firm grip to keep you in place. He sets a brutal pace, stretching you open with a fervor. You can’t even catch your breath, can’t even speak. His tongue lolls out of his mouth as he looks at you, a heavy blush darkening his cheeks as he admires you.

“Have to prepare you…so small, so fragile. So good for me.”

Another gasp as you feel his fingers grow larger inside you. How is that even possible? You throw your head back, covering your eyes to hide from the pleasure. All you can hear is Mac panting, the schlick of his slobbery fingers as they fuck you. But then there's more fabric tearing, no, bursting at the seams. You force your delirious eyes upward, your heart stopping.

Above you is Mac, but he isn’t human anymore. The long tongue now hangs out a muzzle full of sharp canines. His undershirt lays ruined to the side, not able to contain the extra muscle and fur of the beast above you. No, the wolf above you.

“That's good enough.”

Before you can get a word in, Mac is yanking his fingers out and folding your legs backwards toward your face. You can’t feel the burn amidst all the sensation, only noticing a jingle as Mac undoes his belt buckle, pulling out his large cock.

All you can do is moan, bend to his will. Mac smiles, that same wicked smile.

“I’m gonna breed you, mate.”

And without another word, he shoves his cock deep inside you, stealing the air right out of your chest. Your nails caked in dirt as you dig them into the ground, biting your lip until blood is drawn.

It’s too much, too much-it’s too good.

Mac pants, his mad eyes burning deep into your skin. A clawed paw reaches down and grabs your jaw, yanking you to look at him. Drool drips from his jaw and onto your chest, his tail wagging desperately behind him.

“Look at me, look at me.” He keels and whines, swiveling his hips against yours. The crack of shock that rubs up your spine makes you moan, which Mac laps up like its the sweetest treat. “Ugh, you’re gonna take my knot so well. I know it, I know it.”

All you can do is nod your head, your dirt-caked fingers finding purchase in his fur. He lets you yank him closer, the warmth of his chest a contrast to the wet dirt beneath you.

When Mac thrusts in earnest, you swear you lose feeling in your legs. But even so your ankles hook around his shoulders, pulling him in for more and more. Your cock weeps precum, burning and begging to be touched. But Mac is a wolf on a mission, chasing his own high with delighted barks. He keeps that firm grip around your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek with a shocking sweetness. Mac never closes his eyes, content to watch you come undone under him, watch the way he wrecks you.

The slap of skin-on-skin and your heavy pants rings in your ears. You pray your grandma hadn’t wondered if you got lost and came to find you, because the sight of you was surely filthy. But with your cock twitching and a ferociously handsome wolf on top of you, it’s becoming harder and harder to care.

You can feel Mac’s dick throb inside you, a distinct whine coming from his chest. He claws his grip into the ground, his ears twitching as he looks down at you.

“Yes, here it comes. Take it, take it.”

You’re not sure what it is, but there is no way you’re not taking it. Your hips jerk as the rubber band reaches its most taut, your orgasm so, so close.

“F-fuck, fuck!” You moan, yanking and tugging on Mac’s chest fur as you explode into climax, cum spurting all across your stomach. With a final thrust, Mac shoves his hips into you and throws his head back into a howl, a warmth expanding inside you.

This must be it.

You ponder, letting out an ‘oof’ as Mac collapses on top of you. Still inside you, he nuzzles his muzzle into your neck, his hands gently rubbing your sore hips and thighs.

“So good for me.” He pants, licking up your throat with half-kisses. “My sweet little red.”

#my writing #reader insert #male reader insert #monster romance #werewolf #werewolf x reader

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 1 month

Note

Hello dear, "will you pray for me" will have a second part? bc the first is magnificent 😋🫣

WILL YOU PRAY FOR ME? ( House of the Dragon x Reader ) Pt. 2

AUTHOR NOTE! Yes. I need to write more of Aegon so that I can make the perfect mix of TV SHOW and BOOK! Aegon for my fic, 'THE CONQUEROR REBORN'. [ Yes that is me shamelessly promoting it. Check out the link for it in my previous posts. ] <3 pairing: DARK! Aegon ii Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader prompt: Aegon returns back from the Battle of Rook's Rest, seeking comfort from his bride-to-be. Only then does chaos ensure. word count: 1, 298+ words

As soon as he had left the Sept. You prayed, and prayed, and prayed to whoever would listen to your sobs and prayers. It did not matter if it was the Gods of Old, New or the forgotten ones. A twisted part of you praying that Aegon did not survive the battle, that he would be dead. That you would be spared of being his second wife. You did not wish for it. To be married to him nonetheless, not when the glint in his eyes made it clear that it would not be a pleasant marriage.

When the aching of your knees grew too much from praying for hours on end, you returned to the Red Keep. Hoping that Alicent or even Otto would confirm it was Aegon playing a cruel jest on you. But, when Alicent burst into tears, begging you to forgive her for not protecting you hard enough. It was then that you realized Aegon was being serious. Dead serious.

You would be his bride, his little thing, the thing he would use to warm his bed, to do whatever he wished. Not unless you found a way out of it, one that would keep your reputation still in tack. So lying about being a maiden would not work. Then, it clicked, a betrothal.

Aegon would not be able to protest if you were already promised to another. The new task came in finding someone to marry you. Someone of decent standing, who would be willing to offer just enough protection from Aegon. That’s where Lord Redwyne came in. From a good House and standing, kind and loyal. A good ally to the Green’s. To lose him would be a costly thing. It was perfect. You were saved.

Holding the hand of Lord Redwyne, you give him a gentle smile, happy that he was willing to take the burden of protecting you from Aegon. No matter how many times you had said your thanks, it felt like it would not be enough. Not many men would dare to do something like this for a woman, many saw women as things, not people. So for him to do such a thing showed that he either cared, or it was a matter of pride and defending his honor.

Watching as the carriage slowly pulls into the courtyard, you shift in place, fear bubbling up within you. You did not know how Aegon would react. Would he yell? Would he get violent? Would he demand of you both to be thrown into the Black Cells? Feeling a gentle kiss be placed on your knuckles, you turn your head away, feeling at ease at the caring gaze of Lord Redwyne. Instantly feeling better, you look back, watching a now injured Aegon limp out of the carriage.

“Rook’s Rest is ours. Now, where is Y/n, I wish to see my bride.” Aegon states, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

“Aegon, let us speak⎯” Alicent tries to interfere.

“No, Mother. Where is she?” Aegon cuts in, his voice cold.

Not daring to speak up, you look him over carefully. His left side was wrapped in bandages, with tiny specs of burnt flesh peaking through. His armor was charred only on the left side, leaving you to guess that he had been attacked on the left side on dragonback. Feeling his predatory gaze shift onto you, you resist the urge to cower, using Lord Redwyne as a shield.

“What is this?” Aegon states an unnerving lack of emotion in his voice.

“I am betrothed to Lord Redwyne, your grace. I am unable to marry you as my hand is already taken, your grace.” You explain, hoping it would be enough to deter him.

“No.” He states, “No.”

No? Was he honestly just saying no like it would change anything?

“Ser Cristion, kill Lord Redwyne, dispose of his body how you see fit. Lady Y/n will be coming with me to my chambers.” Aegon states, almost as if he was speaking of weather and not murder.

Feeling the blood drain from your face at his casual orders, you turn to Ser Cristion, the Hand just as equally shell shocked. He was not serious, was he? He wouldn’t dare to kill Lord Redwyne, an ally of his, someone that he needed to win the war. This could not be happening. Looking between a stone-faced Aegon and Ser Crisiton, nobody moves or says a word.

It was just palpable tension in the air that brewed in the stillness. Glancing over to Lord Redwyne, he only stares Aegon down, the two clearly size each other up. Surprisingly, Lord Redwyne doesn’t back down, still standing toe-to-toe with Aegon. Which only made the darkness in Aegon’s eyes grow more and more.

“You can either break the betrothal with Lady Y/n and leave a living man, or I will kill you myself and still take her as my wife.” Aegon states, cutting the silence.

No. No. No. This could not be happening. This was supposed to be your escape. Your way of getting rid of him.

“I suggest you pick the latter..” Aegon adds, “Before I decide that mercy is below me.”

“Your grace, you cannot be⎯”

“No, no, I am. Now, like I said, leave before I decide that mercy is below me.” Aegon argues, a dead serious look on his face.

Looking at Lord Redwyne, you prayed that he would not back down, that he would stand up for you and refuse to let you become Aegon’s second wife. Feeling tears tickle up in your eyes, Lord Redwyne pulls your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. There was a glint, a glint of regret and sorry in his eyes and you just knew. He was going to leave you.

He mutters a quick, ‘I am sorry, my Lady.’, before swiftly leaving you with Aegon.

“No..” You whisper, your voice so soft that it nearly went unnoticed.

“Wise choice, Lord Redwyne.” Aegon smirks, the feeling of doom crashing down on you.

“No..” You whisper, a single tear falling down your cheek.

Holding back the tears that continued to bubble in your eyes, it took everything in you to not start sobbing as realty crashed down on you. No one, not even the most honorable men, would be willing to protect you from Aegon. You would be his bride. It would be happening whether you liked it or not.

Feeling a bandaged finger brush against your cheek, you are snapped back to reality, remembering who stands next to you. Turning your head to go over and look at him, there is a smug smirk tugging at his lips, the healing burn scar just above his left eyebrow only making him look more sinister.

“Come, my little bride. I need someone to tend to my wounds.” Aegon orders, dragging you by the wrist.

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

#house of dragons x reader #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x reader #aegon ii #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon

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luveline · 2 years

Note

hi babe!! can i request just more boyfriend steve LOL i don't have a specific scenario

you and Steve move in together! ♡ fem!reader | 1k words

You lie on your back in your new apartment with the top of your head touching Steve's. The ceiling is a sad cigarette yellow and meagre light seeps into the room through old venetian shutters. You sneeze for the third time in as many minutes and Steve laughs and lolls his head to the side to look at you with pity.

"I'll vacuum," he says, starting to sit up.

"No no no," you protest, grasping at his bicep. "We need a break. You need one. You lifted what must've been a thousand boxes."

"Maybe not that many."

"It's-" you sneeze, Steve winces. "It's fine, Stevie."

"Stevie," he repeats, almost to himself.

He reaches for your hand and smiles at you, his canine teeth making a brief appearance.

"I'm so happy," he says.

You feel the same. It surprises you to hear Steve say it aloud – he's an honest guy and a total sweetheart, but he's not usually so forthcoming with positive emotion. Negative, sure.

"Me too," you say, forcing your fingers further through his, squishing his knuckles with the force of it. You turn your face to his and wait for a kiss that you don't get.

He's staring at you like he's never seen you before.

"What?" you ask, a fond whisper.

He lifts onto his side just enough to bring his hand to your face. His silence is at once unnerving and adoring, his face fierce but giving away little else. It's hard to describe but you feel more than pretty when he touches you like this. His thumb, his fingertips smooth over your cheek carefully, touch soft as a downy feather. His caressing gives you the same pit in your tummy that his compliments do. A warmth.

Steve turns his hand. His knuckles rub down your cheek until they find your jaw.

He moves his hand back and forth and soon you're melted, raising your chin slowly.

"I'm happier," you declare.

A flicker of confusion passes over his face. When he realises what you mean he gets mad. "Are you kidding? You think you're happier? I didn't even realise people could get this happy. I'm like, glowing."

The sun sets, an orange haze descending over all of Hawkins and somehow finding its way into your drab little apartment in the middle of town.

"Like the sun," you agree. You attempt a joking tone like his own and miss by a mile.

The light from the window kisses him and sets his hair aflame, a halo around his head as he leans over you.

The moment is disrupted by a telling tickle at the back of your nose. You scrunch up your face and move away from his touch, worried you'll spray all over him.

"That's it, I'm vacuuming," he says as you sneeze.

"No!" you protest, sniffling and wiping your nose with your sleeve. "Please don't."

"You're gonna get sick."

"No Steve, I'm not. I just need one thing and I'll be all better," you start coyly.

He rolls his eyes. "I can guess what you need."

"Yeah?"

"'Stevie, are you busy?'" He imitates your voice far from unkindly, a lilting, light murmur. "'Can I have a cuddle, please?'"

He starts to laugh before he's finished and you giggle thickly, pleased as punch when he finally dips down to kiss you. His smile slides over yours. Chaste, sweet.

"Yes," he says into your lips, "you can have a hug."

"I didn't ask for one."

"So you don't want one?"

You raise your arms and sew them under his, the corded muscle of his biceps shifting as he wraps you up. He hugs you tight and kind and practically vibrating with happiness.

You sit up and climb onto your knees, restless, desperate to get closer. You're a muddle of limbs and loose moving clothes. Your hand gets caught in the hem of his shirt and his fingers slip into the pocket of your sweatpants but it all works out and you end up exactly where you wanted to be, snug in his lap.

"Always get what you want, huh?" Steve asks, lips skipping over your forehead.

You nestle your face down into the juncture of his neck to hide your guilty smile. "Nah."

"No?" he asks.

His hand creeps to your waist and slips under the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze tiny, firm circles into the flesh of your hip.

"No 'cos- because I wanted the thick duvet and we had to get a summer one."

"Because it's summer!"

"It's not as cozy."

Steve pulls his head back to give you what can only be described as a patronising smile. You scowl at him and have just opened your mouth when he interrupts.

"Listen, I wanted the thick one too. I did. But it's summer, and it's like, eighty degrees outside all the time and still seventy at night, and you like to cuddle." He emphasises his last few words with a pointed insistence though he doesn't stop smiling for a second.

"You're a total facehugger," he continues.

You giggle wildly, breathless with outrage. "How dare you."

"Deny it, then. Or better yet, don't cling to me tonight. Prove your point."

You can play this game, too. "That's really what you want? First night in our first home together and you want to sleep on the couch?"

"We don't have a couch."

"The ground?" you ask, incredulous.

He pulls you close until your chests are crushed together and your faces are a half-inch apart, his held to the side as he takes you in again with that same intensity from before.

"I'm not sleeping on the ground. It's kind of gross, for starters. And my arms aren't long enough to do this from the floor," he says, rubbing the curve of your back with both hands. You let yourself go limp, let your face fall to his shoulder.

"I'm happier than you," you say.

"No, you're not."

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things x you

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reidsaurora · 7 months

Text

"Trick, No Treat" ~ D. Morgan

Summary: When Derek and Reader get stuck on the haunted house ride at the fair, they play a game of Twenty Questions to calm Reader down. Little do they know… they were the answer to Derek's question all along.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,129

Content Warning: very mild swearing, mentions of haunted house related things, mentions of food, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: i think i forgot how to write Derek fics because this lowkey sucks akshshddhh

Originally Written: 10/29/2023 through 10/31/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

Your heart raced as you assessed the situation, panic running rampant through your veins.

It was dark and cold, and the smell of carnival food, while once pleasant, was overwhelming your senses and making you nauseous. The thumping in your chest sped up with every passing second that the ride didn't move again.

As if he could read your thoughts, Derek reached over to your side of the cart, nudging your fingers with his own. "You can hold onto me if it'll make you feel better," he said, the words never judgemental, but instead sympathetic. "I don't bite," he chuckled.

If you weren't already embarrassed from your apparent scaredy-cat behavior, you might've taken him up on the offer. "I'm okay, just… just talk to me?"

You might fight serial killers and terrorists for a living, but dammit if you weren't afraid of the dark. It didn't help that he'd somehow convinced you to go on the 'The Creep Show,' where a demon had jump-scared you moments before the lights went out and the ride froze.

"About what?" he asked, fingers still brushing yours in the dark.

"Anything not related to clowns, demons, dolls, or Jason Voorhees," you said, the words meant to be lighthearted but still managing to come out shaky.

Derek's breath was warm against your skin as he settled in closer to you. Chatter had begun to pick up in the dark area, everyone no doubt discussing what had happened mid-ride. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, you might've felt his presence unnerving, given your long standing crush on the man, but tonight, the heat of his words and the sound of his breathing managed to bring you a tad bit of comfort in all the chaos.

"Okay… uh, tell me your favorite color."

The question caught you off guard, and while it wasn't visible in the pitch-black space, you shot a confused look in the direction of his voice. "What?"

"You said to talk. So I'm asking you a question. Favorite color?" he asked again, this time stating it almost as a command.

"Um… purple," you answered, curious to know where he was going with this.

He paused for a moment, as if to think about his response. After a few seconds, he spoke again. "Okay, I'm thinking of something that reminds me of the color purple. Now you have to guess."

Derek's game seemed a bit childish to you, but you supposed it was a distraction regardless. "Um, is it alive?" A strategy you'd picked up as a child, to weed out the animals and humans from the inanimate objects.

"Yes," he answered, a chuckle settling on the tip of his tongue.

Your minds raced to think of all the things it could be. "Okay, is it a person?"

"Yes."

A small wave of jealousy came over you, despite your lack of confessing the crush you had on him. Still, you managed to take a deep breath, reminding yourself that it could be any number of persons. "Are they a celebrity?"

"Depends on your definition of famous."

A confused crease formed between your brows, though it was invisible in the non-existent light of the broken ride. "Okay… are they pretty?"

"The most beautiful person on planet earth."

A pang shot through your heart, a poisoned arrow hitting a bullseye. You wondered why he'd bother to bring up someone like a supermodel or an actress or anyone else for that matter when you were right there in front of him. After all, regardless of if Derek had knowledge of your crush on him, it was just common courtesy not to, given one's self esteem.

Just as your next question started to leave your mouth, the ride started up again, the loud music drowning out any words you might've attempted to say. Your eyes stayed straight ahead of you as the ride continued, focusing not on the clowns and demons jumping out at you, but rather on the tears that you willed not to fall.

Soon enough, Derek was holding out his hand and helping you out of the cart. He acted as though nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't just crushed what little hope you did have of ever asking him out.

"You never gave me a final guess, by the way," he mentioned as the two of you started to walk toward one of the concession booths.

You shook off your thoughts, meeting his gaze as he stepped into the line. "I'm not sure you gave me enough information," you jested in an attempt to act natural.

"Oh, I think I gave you plenty of information," he chuckled back, his eyes soft as they returned your gaze.

A soft huff of fake annoyance fell off your lips. "Well then, your hints suck because I truly have no clue who you were talking about."

Derek flashed you that signature smile of his, and your heart screamed in anger at your brain for falling desperately in love with it. "Okay…" he started to say, "How's this for a hint?"

The world felt as though it was moving in slow motion when one of his hands cupped your cheek, glancing between your eyes and lips as he waited for an answer. Your sadness quickly turned to a wave of anxious excitement as you nodded, nearly fainting when he planted his lips on yours. A rush of joy and anticipation and exhilaration coursed through your veins, and you truly couldn't believe this was happening.

His lips parted from yours, and already, you wished he'd never leave. Still, he met you with another one of those beautiful toothy smiles, butterflies floating around in your belly at the sight. "Think you know the answer now?"

Never one to back away from your friendly banter, and despite the anxiety flowing through you from head to toe, you managed to joke, "I think you were referring to Megan Fox."

A light snicker tumbled out of him at your comment. "Trust me, she's got nothing on you."

"You promise you aren't pulling my leg? This isn't some Halloween prank?"

He met you with a look of honesty, lips pulling together for a closed-lip smile. "I promise, this is all treat, no trick. Besides, if it was a Halloween prank, would I offer to do it again?"

You shook your head. "I suppose not." You thought for a moment, meeting him with slightly confused eyes. "Are you? Offering again, I mean?"

"If you're accepting."

Suddenly, a wave of confidence came over you. Flashing the man a smile, you placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him down for another kiss, electricity shooting through you at the feeling of your lips on his. "I'm always accepting when it comes to you, Derek Morgan."

Happy Halloweek Finale, my dearest auroras! 🥹

As previously stated, I totally meant to have this up sooner, but life kicked my butt the past few days and it took me so long to get a chance to edit these last few fics for you guys.

I really hope you guys have enjoyed this week as much as I did! I had so much fun writing all these fics for y'all and getting to celebrate the holiday with you guys. If all goes according to plan, I'm hoping to do something similar to this near Christmas as well so stay tuned for that!

I hope you all had a very happy Halloween and a wonderful Halloweek! Thank you all so much for the love on these fics 🥰

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @danielle143 @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @maelartasch

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