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letoasai · 7 months

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dp x dc Chronos part 5

Part 1 - Previous - Master list

Diana was furious.

She’d known her young uncle for only a handful of hours but here she was, ready to go to war for him. Perhaps that was what her grandfather had meant earlier, his words still ringing in her ears.

I have a task for you, Diana. One i do not think you will turn now but i’ll give you the illusion of choice.

Perhaps it was less an illusion and more her grandfather merely knowing ahead of time how she would react. If Danny was to be believed – and he did seem such a trustworthy boy – his Clockwork knew every path one could take.

She knew there were still questions to be asked, but Danny had been able to tell her a great deal before his eyes began to droop and she insisted he try to sleep. The curtains to the room had been left open and she watched as his eyes happily glazed over at the sight of open space before him. It had only taken minutes for him to fall asleep.

Now she had a lot of work to do and she planned to get as much done while Danny slept as she could.

She entered the conference room with a quick stride, many members already present for the meeting she had ordered via text. They’d learned that some equipment didn’t work well around Danny. Visuals were blurry at best and audio crackled into something indistinguishable. Diana had instead been texting information to Bruce and Kal to look into while she focused on the boy.

“Were you able to find anything?” She asked immediately, not elaborating on which fact she was talking about. She’d sent them so many little snippets that she didn’t really care where they started.

Batman just grunted, and despite wearing his cowl, she could see just how unhappy he was.

“You’re not going to like it, but you expected that.” Superman said, papers laid out in front of him. He wasn’t the only one doing his research.

Green Lantern and Flash were still there, the latter looking like he was having an existential crisis over the topic of ghosts.

Martian Manhunter had also arrived, his frown informing her that the others had caught him up on what had been happening.

“Can we confirm the truth as Danny has laid it out for us?” She asked, taking a seat.

“Oh, yeah.” Hal muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “Constantine will arrive later, but he could confirm the new High King of the Infinite Realm went by Phantom. Never heard him sound so horrified as him learning that someone had punched a hole into another realm in their house though. Inter-dimensional war crimes on our end are stacking up.”

“Our end?” She asked.

“The GIW…” Bruce began, sounding a mixture of exhausted and livid. “Are completely out of their depth and did not have the authority to just name a species unidentified to the rest of us as non-sentient. If the Infinite Realm retaliates, and John thinks it’s a possibility, it won’t just be aimed at the GIW alone but the entire dimension. That makes this more of a mess for us to clean up than it already was.”

They’d already decided to help, that was what they did. But there was a difference in lending a hand and righting a wrong and taking responsibility for someone else’s fuck ups because they had to.

“Can we prove it?” Diana asked.

“Absolutely.” Kal nodded. “Honestly, for a government agency, their security is a joke. There was a backdoor already in place. We can ask Danny about that later.”

Diana nodded, certain the information would be good in his hands. She turned her attention back to Bruce. “The Fentons?”

There was a certain level of disgust that tried to choke her out in that situation. Danny had been so hesitant, the betrayal fresh and painful. She had lived in the World of Men for a long time now and it had as many delights as it did drawbacks, but to learn what Danny’s parents had attempted to do to him left her burning to seek them out herself.

His mother had lost her privilege to refer to herself as such.

She didn’t care what the circumstances were. Capture and torture with the intentions of vivisection was inexcusable. The target being a child made it all the more heinous. Diana knew Batman would understand without her saying a word.

“Run of the mill mad scientists. They might have been onto something once when it came to energy but their bias took over. Even if they had been correct about ecto-entities, their language is incredibly inappropriate. No licenced and competent science journal would be associated with that.” He stared at her unhappily. “They’re lunatics. The fact that their children grew up in their home is outrageous.” He hit a button on the remote and a location appeared on the computer screens.

A bricked house on a street corner, enormous Fenton Works sign taking up most of the front. It was an eyesore, but not as much as the sci-fi looking shuttle sticking out of the roof. The OHSA violations alone should have had the building condemned and there was no way permits had been granted for any of that construction.

It was a supervillain's dream and not the least bit subtle. It should have been a crime in itself for the town to allow it to remain in a residential area and was shocking that no calls to Child Protective Services had been made.

Yes, Danny was an exceptional being, but Diana understood now all the likely scenarios where he could have died in that house. Danny had called his death an accident, but she wasn’t so certain about that. “They were the ones to hurt him.” Diana said, hating how her throat was tight. She was already emotionally compromised.

“Yes, i know.”

Diana’s attention snapped back to him. “How?”

“Simple reasoning. They are unstable ghost hunters with questionable science. Danny was removed from his home for his safety. Chronos said he needed a guardian. That doesn’t paint a pretty picture.” Bruce muttered. “Either his guardians couldn’t care for him, or shouldn’t care for him.”

She felt her shoulders relax somewhat, knowing that such a logical conclusion should have occurred to her too. She really was worried about Danny’s recovery. “We can add it to the file i know you’ve created, but i’d prefer if no one asked him about that at this time. This last attack only happened several days ago and it is still fresh on his mind.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, always a hound when it came to sniffing out abused kids. “This last attack?”

“They’ve been after him for a while.” Diana hummed, though she’d only had a vague example or two since Danny hadn’t wanted to get into it. She couldn’t imagine how he’d just returned home every day to parents who tried to capture his other persona.

“We must factor in his identity.” Martian Manhunter approached them, having been listening. J’onn had been doing his own research the last several hours. He laid down a startlingly clear picture of Danny in his white haired ghost form. A print out of an Amity Park newspaper article.

“What is that?” Bruce frowned, sliding it closer to read.

“The hero of Amity Park. Phantom. The articles are biased and unfavorable, but that is not the current accepted public opinion. Phantom protects the living from ghosts. He also protects the ghosts from the ghost hunters.” J’onn explained, voice carefully neutral. “Phantom appearing other places, perhaps shouldn’t coincide with where Daniel Fenton ends up.”

“A name change could be warranted. If that’s what he wants.” Bruce adds.

J’onn gave a single nod. “It’s a great deal of pressure on one teenager's shoulders. Being a king of a realm on top of that…”

It was silently agreed upon that Danny deserved this break and Diana was going to get it for him.

“It was only a matter of time before something had to give.” Diana said, turning enough to speak to everyone in the room. “Well he won’t be dealing with all of that alone now. We start with dismantling the GIW, appealing the Anti-Ecto Acts, and smoothing over our relations with the Infinite Realm.”

“Only that much, huh?” Flash muttered, trying to wrap his head around the science of ghost hunting.

“Why not get some of the kids involved. Young Justice, maybe?” Hal was rubbing his eyes, not looking forward to the consequences of this mess. “Once he heals it might do him some good to be around others closer to his own age. People he wouldn’t need to hide half of himself from.”

When put like that, Diana could only agree.

“I’ll mention it to him.” “I’ll get the information i have to Lois.” Clark said, sliding his papers into a binder. “If public opinion of Phantom is already decent in Amity Park, then we’ll up the exposure to put pressure on our oblivious government.”

“I’ll take a few of the GIW facilities.” Bruce muttered, but he had that familiar tone that said he was about to let his children go buck wild. “A little recon…” he added vaguely.

Before anyone else could put in their own two cents, the sensors went off, exactly how they had before Chronos had arrived. A paranormal knock of sorts before the very air seemed to split in two, a glowing green portal building around it.

“Here we go again.” Barry muttered, each of them surrounding the portal as they’d done early for safety’s sake but they were less inclined to fight immediately.

As J’onn was seeing it for the first time, he remained near Diana, keenly watching the portal manifest. It wasn’t Chronos who stepped out though, it wasn’t human at all.

From the portal stepped a creature that Diana didn’t have the name for. Bipedal, humanoid, but beast like in appearance. Horns on his head and spikes from his tail made of ice were noticed secondary to his arm of ice that still encased his bones inside. His fur was white, his claws could easily kill and he was covered by a kilt and cape.

What gave Diana pause as the bag slung over one shoulder, the tell tale signs of a medical cross across the front.

“Who are you?” Superman asked, more polite than their earlier run in with her grandfather.

The creature, a ghost presumably, held himself rigid. He was doing a great deal to make himself appear smaller then he was but his gaze was assessing. He was ready to fight if necessary.

“I am here for His Majesty, the Great One.” Was his response.

Diana stepped forward, deciding this was exactly what she suspected. “I am Diana. Granddaughter of Chronos who Danny fondly calls Clockwork. You are Frostbite, come to check on Danny, yes?”

All of his attention was on her now, but he seemed to see what he wanted in her after locking eyes. “I am. Frostbite, Ruler of the Infinite Realm’s Far Frozen. I have come to see Our Savior the King, as his primary physician.”

“He’s a doctor.” Flash whispered.

“Fascinating.” J’onn muttered, sounding a little winded by whatever he was sensing. “He is who he claims.”

“I’m relieved.” Diana muttered, approaching him with a smile this time. “Please come with me and i will take you to Danny. I’m afraid we did what we could but his unique biology left us questioning our choices. He is resting in a private room.”

“Did something happen to setback his recovery?” Frostbite asked, serious over the care of his charge as he followed Wonder Woman out of the conference room without so much as a glance back at the other heros.

“Excitement, i believe.” Diana offered. “He may have been a little too excited to show off his alternate, living form and seemed to forget his condition.”

Frostbite actually snorted. “Sounds like him.”

“I did not realize how badly wounded he was. We had been talking about our arrangements and he was answering my questions about ghosts. He appeared sore, but fairly pleased to speak with me. Given what he had just been through…”

Frostbite grunted his agreement. “His heart is soft, but his will is unlike anything i have ever known. Many of us saw this tragedy coming, but he insisted on seeing it out for himself, hoping for a favorable ending.”

Diana cracked her knuckles out of habit, that anger still simmering. “He will be safe in my care, i assure you.”

“The Great One is the rightful King to our realm, but many forget he is still just a child.” Frostbite said, eyeing her even as she led him through the Watchtower.

“It is not something i am likely to forget.” Not after she’d seen how small he was in their medbay bed. “He’s resting but weak, you can help?”

“As long as he has not taken more damage, i’m sure i can.” Frostbite said, a gentleness to his voice as they stopped at Danny’s room. Diana went in first to prove the area was a safe one but that may not have mattered given how quickly Frostbite followed her.

He was at Danny’s bedside in an instant, having somehow moved passed her without knocking into her. He could have gone through her for all she knew. For all he seemed to be a hulking beast, Frostbite was nothing but gentle as he examined Danny. He looked over any and all work that had been done to Danny since his arrival, and checked the bandages across his torso. He went as far as to grab the clipboard on the foot of Danny’s bed to read, having no trouble understanding the medical jargon.

From his medical bag, he pulled out several small bottles, all of them growing a toxic green. Injections were given to the teenager, and it didn’t seem to matter that he was in his living, dark haired form.

“Has he explained to you what it means to be a halfa?” Frostbite finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Only in vague, teenager terms.” Diana said. She’d been quite sure that Danny’s flippant attitude was more a coping mechanism than anything.

Frostbite just hummed. “Then i will have to fill you in.”

#ghost king danny #danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #wonder woman #Frostbite

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steddiehyperfixation · 7 months

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don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay.

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway.

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks.

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.”

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief.

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees.

Steve asks, “How much time?”

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.”

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough.

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids.

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did.

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.”

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.”

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond.

“And us,” Erica adds as well.

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.”

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him.

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?”

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally.

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.”

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.”

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital.

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them.

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.”

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.”

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.”

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...”

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase.

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon.

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.”

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.”

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.”

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children.

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.”

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him.

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!”

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.”

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!”

“So you guys joined the club, then?”

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed.

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?”

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.”

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says.

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.”

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.”

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.”

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.”

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

#still angsty sorry #we're getting there tho! this will have a happy ending eventually! i promise!#i finally get what ppl mean when they talk abt setting out to write a oneshot and ending up with a longfic bc it's happening to me rn #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #mine #1k #dyfamsteddiefic #<- specific tag for this fic

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digital-domain · 3 months

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slip

Feitan x Reader drabble // word count 1.5k

In which you dream about someone you shouldn’t, and talk in your sleep.

Tags/Warnings: yandere, kidnapped reader, mention of blood and gore (past and imagined), knives, implied noncon, implied threat of death (to reader), implied murder (not reader), reader is gonna be fucked up over this forever

A/N: first time writing this man, not sure how I feel about it but it’s either post or stare at it forever

As always - 18+, read the tags, if you don’t like the tags then don’t go below the cut. Thank you and enjoy.

There is a knife against your throat, and you barely know how it got there, much less why. You didn’t do anything. Didn’t run, didn’t try to shove your tormentor away, didn’t tell him that you wished he was dead, or worse. You wouldn’t have had the time to do these things, even if you wanted to. You hadn't been awake for a second before his hand stirred from where it had lain on your waist. And now - the blade twitches, slightly. It doesn’t press quite hard enough to make you bleed, but certainly enough to make you picture what would happen if it did. If it kept going, long past the point where red rivulets stained the threadbare sheets beneath you.

A small noise escapes your mouth. You get nothing in response. It takes time for Feitan to speak, when there’s something on his mind.

It’s taking too long, even for him.

Last night, you thought you were safe. He kissed you, after meticulously washing a stranger’s blood out from beneath his nails. He watched you fall asleep, kept a hand on you until exhaustion finally forced you to nod off in the early hours of the morning. The strange affection he gives you is worse than any cruelty you could imagine, but not nearly as bad as the thought that somehow, you’ve managed to lose it. There are no words in your mind, now, only scattered images of what might happen, what you might become, the barely-recognizable thing strewn out across the floor -

“What were you dreaming about?” Feitan’s voice is dull and quiet, as always. Like he’s asking you this over breakfast, and not on what could be your deathbed.

You don’t remember, and you don’t answer. There is no air left for you to speak.

“What were you dreaming about?” he repeats. It’s almost the same voice, but there’s a hint of urgency, now. The barest hint - but you’ve grown used to interpreting the faint indications he gives you. “Talk.”

“I don’t”- You gasp, but seem to take in nothing. “-don’t remember”-

“You were talking when you were sleeping.”

Statements like these are dangerous. He expects you to understand what he means, always. He does not like to elaborate.

“I…” You screw your eyes shut, try to forget where you are just enough to remember where you were. “It was night. In the dream. And I was…” Oh. No. You can’t say that part out loud. Never, ever, ever. When you open your eyes, your vision is blurry. They close once more, of their own accord. “I was sitting with someone. Talking.” Someone. Someone has no face, no name - you pray that he’ll let you leave it at that. That he won’t ask for more.

“You said…” His face is close to the back of your neck, and yet, you cannot feel his breath on your skin. “When you were sleeping, you said I love you.”

Your stomach threatens to infringe upon your throat. You curse your sleeping mind for giving you something beautiful to dream of, and for letting it slip out of your mouth. Beautiful things do not survive here, and your mouth is always better kept shut.

“Who?”

You’d think, in your present situation, that you wouldn’t have enough room in your head to feel terrified for anyone else. But you do. Terrified enough to try something stupid.

You’re sure Feitan can feel the tension in your body, the instinctual way it readies itself for a fight (you would lose instantly) or an attempt at escape (you wouldn’t make it an inch). “It wasn’t about”- you choke on your own breath, try again. “It wasn’t about anyone real. Just a dream-person.”

“Bad liar,” he accuses. You do not protest. It was pointless to try.

And yet, you try again. You know that your answer matters. Enough for you to force more lies across the blade that still presses against your skin. “Someone I used to date. A long time ago.” Really, it was only a few weeks before Feitan….found you that things ended. But time is subjective - it certainly feels like a long time has passed since then.

“Oh.” If he suspects that you’re lying again, he doesn’t say it. But he does tend to leave a lot of things unsaid.

“He”- You suck in a breath as the knife twitches again. The movement is not an accident. It’s never an accident - his hands are unnaturally steady, when he wants them to be. “He ended things. I don’t think he thinks about me anymore.” This needs to be true. He needs to believe that it’s true, or-

“But you still think about him.”

Your stomach churns. “It was just a dream.” Technically not a lie, either. You’d have to say no for it to be a lie.

Feitan pauses for a moment. You’d have expected him to be furious, to take this out on you in some unimaginably awful way. Instead you hear a single sigh, feel it soft against your skin. “He let you go.” He sounds almost confused, his muted voice drawn out just enough to make his resentment clear. The knife turns slightly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was on purpose. “He must be stupid.”

You bite down on the inside of your lip, sharp and hard enough to tear a bit of the lining away. It’s awful when he says these things. Words that could be sweet, if you removed everything around them.

“I can’t control what I dream about,” you whisper, almost too quiet to be heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He withdraws the blade, swings his feet off the bed - the floor, decrepit as it is, should creak when he stands, but it never does. “You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

You know better than to be relieved, so you turn over, to your other side, and fix your gaze on the floor. Watch him carefully, indirectly. You listen, your breath almost as silent as his, as he picks up his jacket from the end of your bed, puts it on.

And he smiles. His face is covered, but you see it in his eyes. “I can figure out the rest.”

The rest.

Your heart hammers, but your blood stands still. Frozen in your veins. You know why he’s put on his jacket. Why he’s leaving. Where he’s going.

The knife still dangling from Feitan’s hand catches a shard of your reflection, a smudged picture of a terrified eye that disappears before you can look any closer.

The rest. Name, face, address - all too easy. There are clues in your confiscated possessions, in the place where you used to live.

It’s as if the knife is still held to your throat. No. It’s as if your skin has already broken beneath it. You do not think in words. You think in gory pictures, infinitely clearer than the haze you see before forcing your eyes shut. Your blood, mixing with what you’re sure will be on that blade by day’s end. Skin-gushing-red-bones-out-something being buried, dirty hands returning to you, staining your face, your clothes, the things underneath, silent breath coming alive, painfully soft in your ear -

You open your eyes. You want to scream at him to stop, to stay. But your mouth stays shut.

“I won’t draw it out.” For a moment, he looks down, and you swear you see his face color. Like he’s said something overly sweet, and can barely stand it. “I promise.”

It’s enough to make it real. Enough to unseal your lips. “Don’t…” You should be yelling. But it’s all you can do, finding enough strength to make a near-silent, desperate appeal. “Please. You don’t have to. I’m not going to - to run. To him or anyone else. I’m not gonna do anything. I don’t - it was just a dream…”

“Stop.” His smile drops, eyes narrow. Voice even quieter than usual, deathly calm.

You go silent. Perfectly still.

“If you keep trying to save him, I’ll break my word. I already want to.”

You forget how to breathe.

This can’t be a choice you have to make. This can’t be in your hands. There are words in your head, finally, and you can’t say them.

You have to say them.

“I’m sorry.”

"Okay." He stares at you for far too long, unblinking. For seconds, or maybe hours, or maybe days - they’re all the same, to you, now. “It’s okay.”

No. He is unforgivably wrong. Nothing will ever be okay again. You’re in some other world, in your mind, and it’s going to take more than you have to yank you out of it.

You can barely see him in front of you. His voice reverberates strangely in your head. But when he moves, it’s like your senses pull themselves together. You realize that your eyes are wet, that a tear is rolling down the bridge of your nose, that you can breathe after all, but only in ragged gasps…

“You look…nice…when you cry.” He drops his gaze once more, tugs up on the cloth that covers his face. His smile is back, creasing the corners of his eyes, and it is the ugliest thing you have ever seen. “Wonder if he thought that, too.”

#feitan x reader #yandere feitan #tw blood #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw violent imagery #tw implied noncon #tw implied murder

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dabislittlemouse · 9 months

Text

tainted angel🪽 (pt.4)

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 5

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming, stalking

ෆ Before you read chapter 4: I will be slightly including her POV in this chapter (or yours since you can gladly imagine yourself being Keigo’s sister as well) and then it goes back on Dabi’s POV again‼️

Her POV (or yours too)

The long hours at college finally came to an end. Without wasting a second, I head home, carrying my books while leaving my friends behind. I am too lost in thoughts to even notice or hear them shout my name. Flying home would be quicker, but that was not an option due to the weather conditions. According to Keigo, I need to be way more experienced if I want to fly in a stormy weather, but I’d rather not risk getting hit by a thunder and set ablaze in the sky. Walking will do just fine.

As if it’s my new obsession, I check my phone every second, waiting for something. For a call, for another message from him. But nothing else was sent after his last message.

Tonight at 10, the alleyway right behind the supermarket. Be pretty for me..

-Dabi

My heart skips a beat at the reminder of that text message. There is no way I will go out and meet him tonight is it? Only if I’m stupid enough.

Which.. I may be.

After having a talk with my brother that day, I realised how much risk I put all of us in. Surely he told me it was not my fault, but in a way or another it was, because I let a stranger in and trusted him so easily.

But how could I not when his clear blue eyes pierce right through my own? He would know if I was lying, I’m sure he could read my thoughts.

It was very weird, the way he captivated me entirely, the way his presence screamed danger and yet I found myself intrigued by him. His husky voice and teasing comments sent a strange heat deep in my core, awakened something in me which I never knew I had. How could someone who I meet for the first time make me feel like this? The way those hands touched me, I still feel their warmth on my body, I still feel his gaze on me even though he is not here at all. Those strange marks on his face decorated with piercings, what could those possibly be?

Keigo told me to stay away from him, not elaborating why, and this is eating me from the inside out. The more I am forbidden to see him, the more I actually want to see him. My brother was very strict about it, I’ve never seen him this serious before, so for sure this has to be some big deal. As the number two hero of Japan, and as my big brother, I trust him deeply. And I want to listen to him, really, I do.

But the way this mysterious man is tempting me, I feel like I’ll fall down a rabbit hole that I won’t easily get out of. My logic tells me to not meet him tonight, it’s basically screaming at me but my so-called heart is pumping vigorously in my chest at the thought of Dabi, butterflies in my stomach almost making me feel nauseous. I am intrigued, thrilled to find who he really is. How did those flowers end up in my room? So many questions getting no answers.

Maybe if I meet him tonight I will get them.

I stay in front of my mirror, examining everything around me. Would he like my cherry scented perfume or my vanilla one? I wonder which dress he would like best, how should I keep my hair..

“What got you so excited? Going out tonight~?”

Startled at the voice, I see Keigo leaning on my doorstep, a smile on his face as he watches the mess in my room and all my clothes scattered on the floor. He was still on his hero costume, I figured he stopped by for lunch and would head back again.

“Oh- not sure if I will I just..” I scratch my neck, avoiding his gaze as I try not to make it too obvious that I’m lying. Guilt is eating me from the inside, but I’m reminding myself that I’m meeting Dabi only because I need answers.

“If you aren’t going anywhere then I figured we can hang out since I’m free,” Keigo says. “You, me, mom.. we can eat dinner somewhere fancy, I know a good place!”

“Oh?” My mouth falls slightly open, and now the guilt is worsening. It’s not often that we all hang out as a family due to Keigo being constantly busy with hero work. It’s getting harder and harder for me to make decisions.

Fuck Keigo, why would you gather us specifically tonight? Is this a sign that I should never meet Dabi?

“I don’t think I can make it..” The words come out of my mouth so suddenly, not even recognising my own voice anymore. “I have an exam tomorrow and I really need to study for that one so-”

What are you even doing? Lying like this. You’re an idiot, a total idiot.

For some reason the thought of Dabi waiting there for me tonight has my heart pumping so hard to the point I can’t even hear my logic anymore.

“Ah shame” Keigo pouts playfully. “But exams are more important, there’ll be other nights to hang out for sure. Seems like it’s gonna be only me and mom tonight then..”

If that ain’t a golden opportunity to sneak out of the house the moment they leave, then I don’t know what is.

Suddenly I feel like the 13 year old girl with strict parents who was not allowed to go out with friends. But this time it’s me, an adult, whose brother warned her, for unknown reasons, to not meet the raven haired guy with sharp teal eyes, who meant nothing but danger. But how can he be so bad when he calls me angel in a way that has me swooning and my mind going blank?

Tonight at 10, when Keigo and mom leave, I will sneak out and secretly meet Dabi. I will be pretty for him just like he asked, I’m not sure what will happen, what we will say or do, but I’m scared and thrilled to find out.

Dabi’s POV

9:30pm. Putting on a hoodie and zipping up my jacket, I head out, barely noticeable by the common folks or heroes walking down the street. For sure I could’ve put on somethin’ better to meet my angel tonight, but I can’t risk getting seen by people. That would be a real pain in the ass.

As I’m heading near her neighbourhood, I stop in my traces.

I should’ve gotten her something, fuck..

Going to a flowershop nearby, I manage to steal a pretty blue rose outside, without the lady inside noticing. It’s nothing much, but once we.. establish things, I will get my angel whatever she wants and more.

Her house is now visible, the area around it dark and quiet as the clock hits 10. The supermarket is nearby, I take my sweet time to see if anyone is around before walking further.

My slow heavy footsteps echo in the empty alleyway behind the supermarket, and not too far away I see the figure of a person in front of me.

So you actually came huh..

I can’t hold back the grin that forms in my face as I look at her, sitting there nervously, checking her phone and looking left and right like some damsel in distress. Coming closer, I notice the short white dress she’s wearing, along with a jacket, her soft golden hair falling down her shoulders. Those pretty legs of hers make me bite my lip, thigh highs sticking nicely on the plush of her thighs that I want so much to sink my teeth in. She turns at me, nervously trying to figure out who I am and backing off a bit.

“Don’t panic, princess” I smirk, removing the hood revealing my dark spiky hair. “Unless you’ve already forgotten how I look like, that would really hurt me~”

“Dabi.. of course I couldn’t forget you” she replies, a smile forming on her lovely face.

“Is it just me or do you get prettier with each day that passes by, angel? Lemme have a look at you, do a lil’ twirl for me..”

She lets out a nervous laugh, rolling her eyes but even in the darkness I can tell she is blushing. My gaze never leaves her body as she does a small twirl, showing her pretty dress.

“Satisfied?”

“Very much” I grin. “Did you get all dolled up for me like this? M’flattered..”

“Ah please, that’s how I dress everyday” she says. “Don’t flatter yourself too much~”

It’s like everything around me vanishes while my eyes lay on her, nothing else matters right now. I grab her hand, pulling her closer towards me. My finger slowly traces her jawline, putting some hair behind her cute ears. Her eyes stare back at mine, it’s the same hypnotised look she gave me that day. It makes her look so.. submissive.

“Forgot to give you this” I whisper, before grabbing the rose and giving it to her. She lets out a small gasp, looking at the rose and smiling softly. Meanwhile I feel like vomiting, being such a gentleman and gifting roses to girls is making me cringe. I am definitely not this type of guy.

But as long as I can make her fall for me..

“Thank you Dabi… this is so pretty! I love blue roses”

“You do? I’ll make sure to leave more blue roses around you then” I pinch her cheek. “Let’s go for a walk now shall we?”

She nods excitedly, her small hand intertwining with mine as she leans on me the entire time. I ask her about her day and college, I let her ramble the whole time as we head towards an empty park nearby. Usually I get annoyed easily when people talk too much, but for some reason I can stand her.

Finding the perfect spot, I go and sit on a bench.

“C’mon.. let’s sit down for a bit”

She comes closer, but stops the moment she notices the other half of the bench was still damp from the rain earlier.

“There’s not enough dry space” she says. “Let’s find another be-”

I pat my thigh with my hand, suggesting for her to sit down. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, before letting out a nervous laugh.

“No, Dabi. I am not sitting on your lap”

“Why not? It’s way more comfy than a nasty bench” I raise my eyebrow, giving her a seductive look.

“Y-Yeah but- wait!”

Without letting her finish her sentence I grab her hand and pull her down on my lap, her warmth already invading my body as I bring her closer to me. One hand goes around her waist to keep her steady, the other on top of her thighs. It’s like the breath leaves her lungs and all she does is stare in shock. I can’t help but chuckle. Her eyes start looking around, probably hoping nobody would be here to see us like this.

“What? You worried or somethin’?”

“No I just.. I don’t think this is okay” she mumbles nervously.

“You’re thinking too much..” I groan, squeezing her thigh. “Nothing’s bad about this. All the benches here are wet so I’m just doing favor here and giving ya some place to sit on”

We stay there in silence for a few seconds as I enjoy having her so close to me, on my lap. I can feel her ass pressed against my crotch, if she starts squirming or moving I don’t think I will handle myself anymore. Especially when she’s wearing this dress..

Such easy access. But I still wanna tear it off.

“You’re really tense, sweetheart” I caress her thigh gently, whispering in her ear. “Calm down will ya?”

“Y-Yeah sorry,” she gulps “It’s just that you’re really warm for some reason..”

“Mm warm.. that sure I am. Probably cuz’ of my quirk, can’t help it honestly”

She turns at me, her eyes full of curiosity. “Oh? I still don’t know what your quirk is, I forgot to ask earlier..and you already know mine though”

“I sure do” I gently tug on one of her white feathers, making her wings flutter. “Just look..”

The white feather is still on my hand as she focuses on what I’m about to do. My fingerstips light up, blue flames flickering and slowly burning up the feather. Her eyes widen in shock, and before the feather burns up completely I put the fire off. Due to the feathers being sensitive, she squirms on my lap and winces in discomfort.

“Sorry angel” I grin, giving the half burnt feather back to her. “Didn’t meant to hurt ya’”

“So your quirk is fire.. woah, and a blue one nonetheless!”

“More like cremation, but yeah. My blue flames are way hotter than the normal ones, y’gotta be careful around me dolly. Don’t flutter those pretty wings too much around me or I might get all hot n’ bothered.”

Her mouth falls slightly open. “Is this a threat?” she whispers, her eyes glued on me.

“It’s a promise” I get closer to her, our noses almost touching together. My fingertips tap on her thigh, getting slightly warmer but not hot enough to burn her. Just warm enough to let her feel it. Her breath hitches, as I bring her even closer towards me now, her tits pressing against my chest.

“Dabi..”

“Mmm” I hum, my face nuzzling in her neck as I take in her sweet scent.

“I-Is this why Keigo tells me to not approach you? I mean, your quirk.. and uhh.. as far as Keigo’s told me flames are our weakest point” she stutters.

“That makes sense. Those pretty wings would burn up on instant” I reply, my hand slowly going further, right under her dress. She puts hers on top, to prevent me from touching her inner thighs, but I do not stop. “Though this ain’t the reason baby, y’see Keigo also associates with Endeavor, and the old man also has fire quirk”

“O-Oh yeah you’re right, sorry that was a dumb assumption..” she scratches her head.

“But I gotta tell you though, your brother may be right at some point. You should not approach me whatsoever, but here you are in some dark empty park, and on my lap.”

I place both her arms on my shoulders. Poor angel is unsure about all of this but yet lets me go further, not sure if it’s from fear or the hidden desire.

“But why?” she whines impatiently to get an answer. “That’s what I wanna know”

My face is now inches away from hers,I feel my cock throbbing in my pants. My hardened bulge is making her squirm away from me but I hold her firmly, not letting her slide off my lap. Her pretty ass is warming me up just nicely, fuck I think I’m gonna cum in my pants.

“I don’t wanna scare you off, princess. To cut things short, I had to do some bad things y’see, or at least what this society considers bad, but for a greater purpose. I don’t want to bore you with my.. activities and ideologies right now”

“Bad things? I mean.. you can still tell me though,”she insists. “As long as you haven’t done something severe such as like.. killing people or so..”

Hah, about that…

I simply ignore her stubbornness, a sinister glint lingering in my eyes as I nuzzle my face back on her neck. My hot breath makes her skin crawl, as I start placing soft pecks, while my hand continues to caress and squeeze her thighs.

“D-Dabi wait-” she stutters, placing her hands on my chest and trying to push me away. I can see the way her chest moves, the way her breathing gets heavier when I place kisses on her jaw, then gently nibbling her earlobe. She squeezes her thighs together instantly, but my hand manages to spread them again as I continue to explore underneath her dress.

“Mmmh what is it baby..” I whisper, now placing open mouthed kisses on her neck, licking and biting her skin, to the point the softests gasps and whimpers escape her mouth.

“W-Wait- I think we’re rushing things..”

She is right, I might be rushing things, but I can’t fucking resist anymore. I grind my hardened bulge up against her ass slowly, while I grunt in her ear.

I can feel the heat of her clothed cunt. My hand reaches her inner thighs, gently grabbing and squeezing the soft flesh.

“Dabi- please..somebody might see. I don’t think we should do this- and not in public!”

“Fuck them all, princess. Mmnnh I just can’t get enough of you..”

She lets out a yelp as I proceed to leave a hickey on her neck, my very first mark on her.

“I think you like this” I smirk at her flushed face.

“I don’t know..” she mumbles shyly. Poor thing, unsure if this is the right or wrong thing to do.

“Has anyone made you feel like this before?” I say, my lips almost touching hers but I don’t lean in for a kiss yet.

“No.. I don’t think so..” she whispers.

“Good” I click my lips, my hand now harshly gripping her inner thigh, my fingers digging on her skin and my knuckles touching her clothed cunt. She lets out the lewdest whine I’ve ever heard.

“I’ll make ya see the damn stars..”

Bzzzt.

Her phone ringing startles her and I let out a low annoyed grunt.

Fuck baby, you just keep moving too much my cock is aching-

Her eyes widen in panic as she looks at the screen. It’s Hawks.

“Oh my god..” she gasps. “Why is he calling now?”

“Jus’ answer him” I say nonchalantly. This is in fact entertaining for me. “Don’t want him to ruin our moment..”

She takes in a deep breath before answering him. It’s funny how she tries to sound calm, as if she hadn’t snuck out to meet her brother’s villain friend.

“Y/N where are you? I’ve been ringing this doorbell for a while” I hear the hero’s voice through the phone.

“Keigo I’m sorry I- I thought you were out with mom?” she replies. I simply rest my head on her chest, holding myself from touching her tits. How fun would that be..

“Yes I am, but she forgot something home so I decided to fly back and get it. And I forgot the damn keys at the restaurant” he groans. “Just open the door, I can’t enter through the windows either they’re all closed”

“Okay but-”

“Baby you’re sweating” I whisper, grabbing her hand as if to reassure her everything will be alright. Though the excited smile on my face is anything but reassuring.

“Kei I’m- I’m not at home. I just.. had to go to the store for a bit.. I’ll be right back”

First there was silence on the other line. Her panicked eyes stare at me, and I nod in approval that she is doing well.

“Store? At this hour?! ” Hawks says. “Y/N.. it is almost 11, there are no stores nearby open at this hour.. and even if there was, a girl can’t just go out on her own so late. What if something happened to you? You know how many villains I fight daily?”

Tch, now he started scolding and being the protective big brother he is. Gimme a break.

“I know Keigo but I’m fine, really. Since I couldn’t find anything I’m just walking home now okay? I’ll be there in a minute”

I can hear Hawks letting out a sigh, and she quickly slides off my lap.

“Alright, but don’t start wandering aro-”

“Oh come on!” I groan, not caring if I was too loud. I grab her phone and hang up on him, and she looks at me shocked.

“Dabi!! He will kill me!! What if he heard you?!” she starts pacing around, anxiety clear on her face.

“I don’t think he heard me, but even if he did, must’ve been the wind,” I grin but she is clearly in no mood for jokes.

“I have to go- we can meet another time at a more appropriate hour okay?” she says, fixing her dress.

“So you do want to meet another time huh?” I say, grabbing her chin and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “That makes me feel real happy, princess. Now go, before your brother starts looking around for you, we don’t want him to find us together~”

She gives me one last smile before running back home, I still follow after her to make sure she’s arrived safely. Don’t want any villain around to harrass her on her way.

I chuckle, fixing my pants and staring at the bulge, my cock still rock hard as I remember the warmth of her ass on top of me.

Tch. Need to do somethin’ about this quick.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

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kaicubus · 9 months

Text

Dating Spencer Reid

₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ───────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊ ─────────────── ₊˚⊹♡ ∘₊

warnings ✩° : fluff headcanons, cursing(?).

pairing ✩° : spencer reid x gn!reader mostly, some fem!reader specifically

authors note ✩° : college makes me want to puke out of anxiety but it's storming here so i decided to get some content out for all of you!! thank you for being here as always, succubabies, even when i don't post, you mean the world to me!

────────────────────────────────────────────

Spencer Reid is the master of understanding. That’s not just because he’s gifted in his line of work and anything he has an interest in, it’s also because he’s very observant. When you don’t think Spencer’s paying attention, he is, and he’ll make his presence known if that’s the case with a fun fact.

One thing about Reid is that he likes to interrupt you. It’s a fun quirk he has where he’ll say whatever’s on his mind because he doesn’t want to lose his train of thought, and it comes off as a very obscure fact starting off with, ‘Y/n did you know—‘

Everything about him is so effortlessly attractive. Come on. Looking at him really just sucks the breath out of you, and for him it’s the exact same.

Spencer is also just effortlessly funny, and for the most part he’s not even trying to be funny, he’ll be genuinely curious about something but have the answer in front of him in a way that makes it impossible for you not to giggle at his obliviousness.

As your partner in both romantic relations and work relations, Spencer is able to maintain his identity as being a top agent and also the best boyfriend.

He takes everything you say way more seriously than anyone else, in the sense of something about him or something you want to be done.

Spencer is whipped for you 24/7, there's no denying that. He's constantly looking up at you with big, puppy eyes, asking questions and following you around. Bonus points if you're shorter than him so it looks even funnier.

If Spencer ever gets on your nerves, he won't understand why, and he'll go to Penelope or Emily or even Derek at times, who usually gives the best advice. Armed with ways he wasn't clear on before, he apologizes and makes you feel better instantly.

His guilty pleasure has to be face touching. It’s so specific, but he loves it when you caress the side of his face and turn it towards you, or turn his head up by his chin. But if you grab his neck with both hands settling below his jawline? Gone.

Spencer Reid’s love language would have to be physical touch or quality time. He loves being near you at all times, bumping elbows, touching knees, or interlocking fingers, because it gives him the satisfaction of knowing you’re safe and protected by him. In a way, being so close to you counts as quality time spent, which is what he also really loves. If you guys are on a case? He’s the one following you around (if he doesn’t wander off and do his own thing) and he’s the one suggesting new ideas and approaches all while being next to you basically touching hips.

He’ll melt if you run your fingers through his hair. Any massage on his head, really.

Something intimate he does is kissing the back of your hand while holding it and while looking up or down at you. He likes watching you get flustered and ends up pressing a few more kisses against your knuckles.

When you two become more comfortable with your relationship, PDA becomes more known. Little quick kisses if he passes by you in a hall or something, then walking away like nothing even happened is something that happens a lot.

Spencer likes to single you out in group discussions, asking how YOU feel, asking YOU what should be done next, or asking how YOU see the situation. If you give him an answer he doesn’t agree with, he won’t embarrass you or anything, he’ll just ask you to elaborate. Communication!

Because he singles you out, everyone kind of catches on and playfully shakes their head at his sometimes very sad attempts at being cute with you in public. But it is adorable.

When he kisses you, Spencer breathes out, almost like a sigh of relief. Afterwards, he strokes your hair or back and comments how much he liked the kiss, or likes you.

Spencer’s an observer, but he’s also really bad with people. He can tell when somethings wrong, but most of the time he asks it the completely wrong way. He truly cares and wants to know what’s happening if you’re upset, but his execution is…poor.

His friends, your friends, and your fellow FBI agents are all basically a part of your relationship. They're constantly asking about how everything's going for your sake and his sake. Even on dates, they show up in disguise just to get the inside scoop on the Reid x Y/n target couple.

Let's say. Fancy mission. Have to dress up. Right? Spencer will tie your dress, put your shoes on, and clasp your necklace together. After each thing, he'll kiss the area.

Hotchner gets fed up with him as if you're in the room or near by, Spencer's eyes are on you. Of course, he knows when to focus on something else, but Spencer tends to just stare at you and tune everything else out.

Spencer will get into arguments/debates for you if someone of status wrongs you or pokes the slightest bit of fun at you. He does not let any Y/n slander slide.

Info dumps. No matter where he is. It gets really bad if he's nervous because he'll start to analyze everything, even stupid little things.

He LOVES taking naps with you!! Holding you is all he ever wants in life!! Running his hands over or in your hair, pecking your face with kisses, getting gentle whiffs of your comforting scent!! All of it just makes him lose his mind and go CRAZY.

He won't show it, but he likes the competition and the acknowledgment of knowing he's the genius from you. The praise makes him feel unreal, and from you? Please.

Supporting his love for cowboys. Earning the most sincere, giddiest smile and shrieks of laughter when you gift him small horses or a cowboy hat.

Spencer is a strict germaphobe, but he's way more comfortable holding your hand and hugging you than anyone else. You and Morgan.

#kaicubus #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #gn!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid preferences #criminal minds preferences #criminal minds headcanons #dating spencer reid #criminal minds fandom

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assortedseaglass · 4 months

Text

Talk Refined - Chapter Two

Michael Gavey x Reader

[Masterlist]

Summary: When Michael Gavey unwittingly insults a fellow Oxford student, they enter into a game of intellectual cat and mouse.

Content Warnings (this chapter in bold): Language, Smut, Saltburn Spoilers

Esme did not let you live your encounter with Michael Gavey down.

“You should have heard her. Like she was interviewing all over again!” At any given opportunity, she took the chance to tell the story of how her best friend had shot down the genius from Brasenose.

“Esme, everyone’s heard this story a hundred times,” you’d said when she once again brought the matter up at the pub. “And anyway, he didn’t even reply when I shouted at him. Just said he needed a piss.” People at the table tittered. Michael’s reputation as a genius made had its way around the university’s colleges. Mainly because he was the one telling them.

It was a fact begrudgingly agreed upon at each recounting of the tale. Esme would tell her college mates, or new friends at the pub, the story of you and Michael getting into a fight, and inevitably they would say “The self-proclaimed genius?”

“The maths nerd?”

“That dickhead?”

Before resigning to the fact that, despite his arrogance, Michael Gavey really was a genius.

“Didn’t you hear him shouting at dining hall first night?”

“Heard he got 100% on the maths admissions test!”

“Pretty funny really. If he wasn’t such a twat I’d invite him out, he’s great entertainment.”

Luckily for you, the spectre of his reputation loomed larger than the man himself who, since your encounter at the pub, you had not seen. Perhaps he was too embarrassed after his very public rejection. More likely, it was because you were preparing for your extended essay deadline. Burrowed in your room at the desk, or else tucked in a dark corner of the library, Esme almost had to drag you to leave your room these days.

“Should have done something on Gentileschi,” you muttered into the open book on the library table. Your endless studying on the use of women as decoration that formed the basis of your essay was slowly crushing you. “Wanted to do a feminist essay but this is fucking depressing.”

Esme shifted in her seat next to you, leant over your book to look at the pictures on the open page, then pushed it from your view. Before you could protest, she spoke.

“One minute not looking at that dull picture,” she gestured to the image of Turner’s Reclining Nude on a Bed, “-isn’t gonna hurt you. But I’ll tell you what won’t be depressing. My end of year party!” Esme grabbed your shoulders and shook you.

You laughed, stifling it behind your hand when a few pug-nosed students frowned at you.

“I thought you’d settled for a cheese and wine night? ‘Sophisticated with a chance of minor sluttiness’,” you quoted her and she winked.

“Yeah, well, it’ll still be a cheese and wine night,” she opened another textbook and riffled through the pages absent-mindedly. “With slightly more wine than cheese-”

“And about sixty people.”

“Only after the meal! Had to take the chance and get in there before Catton. No-one’d come otherwise.” Esme’s face dropped, a flash of worry crossing her bonny face at the prospect of competing with Felix Catton for the Party of the Year.

“It’ll be grand,” you grabbed her hand reassuringly. “Who wants Catton’s friends there anyway? Load of stuck-up snobs-”

“You sound like Gavey!”

You shot an irritated look at Esme. She grinned back and busied herself with the work in front of her. You looked at the title scribbled across the top of the page. “Semper femina: misogyny’s early beginnings.”. You really picked a corker when you saw her at the humanities social. You nudged her shoulder affectionately, rubbing off her last comment and, still a little distracted, look around the library.

Not all libraries in Oxford had vaulted ceilings of ancient oak, or were decorated with elaborately carved roses. Some had harsh fluorescent lighting and tiled navy carpets. It just so happened that you and Esme preferred the grander of buildings. So too, did most other students. When dedication and inspiration waned, the quickest way to feel inspired was to pop to the libraries with ancient tomes alongside the course textbooks, sharing silent exchanges with other students gazing in awe at the latticed windows and rows of paper possibility.

“By the way,” Esme whispered, not due to the setting but what she was about to say next. “Who are you bringing?”

Your eyes didn’t flicker from the book in front of you. “Bringing where?”

“To the cheese and wine party,”

You looked at her, a mixture of exasperation and amusement on your face. “Since when did I have to bring someone?”

“Well,” Esme fully turned in her seat to look at you. “You don’t, but I’m bringing Eleanor-”

“Pretty girl from the pub.”

Esme nodded and continued counting people on her fingers. “Laura’s boyfriend is visiting that weekend, Holly’s bringing some rugby lad, Joe’s best mate is coming and the other three all have boyfriends. Bit sad if you’re the loner.”

“How can I be a loner at a party?”

“You know what I mean! Come on, it’s the end of the year, loosen up a bit. Doesn’t have to be a bloke, just pick someone!”

You thought a moment. Though you hated to admit it, Michael Gavey had been right; a lot of the people on your History of Art course were public school wankers and horsey girls fast-tracked to jobs in their parents’ cosmopolitan art galleries.

Nope. No-one there you could bring, and all of Esme’s friends were already going.

“I don’t know!” You despaired, slumping back in your seat comically in mock defeat.

Esme laughed. “Tell you what, next person that comes round that corner,” she pointed to the last bookshelf of a long row, right by the library entrance. “You’ve got to take. Deal?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll buy your cheese and wine for the night.”

You stared at her. Trinity term was almost up, and so too was your scholarship loan. “Fine.”

Esme laughed excitedly and stared excitedly at the shelves. You did so with apprehension. A minute passed and no-one rounded the corner. A group of gorgeous boys left the library, but not one person entered.

“Looks like you’ll be coming alone after all.” You pinched Esme’s side and she giggled. “Aha!” She pointed behind you and your stomach dropped. Turning slowly, you faced your fate. Date.

A wizened old man no taller that the fourth shelf shuffled along the wooden floor, his worn leather shoes squeaking with every step. There were more lines on his face than the tube map.

“No.”

“Don’t be a bitch!”

“People don’t want their fucking lecturers there, Esme.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But it has to be the next person or my share of the food is on you.”

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bookshelf. The wizened old man shuffled past you, and soon the sound of his leather shoes faded. You glanced over your shoulder at Esme. “This is stupid-”

“Oh. My. God.” Esme was looking past you, and what had momentarily been shock was turning to unbridled glee.

“What?” You span in your chair. “No. Absolutely not.” Panic prickled the hairs of your neck. You whipped back to face Esme. She was laughing. “I can’t. Fuck. No!”

“This is brilliant,” Esme clapped her hands together. Some students shushed her and she sent them a two fingered salute. “He’s coming this way! Go on, ask him!”

You took a deep breath and, with growing unease, turned to face your unknowing date.

Michael Gavey was walking stiffly along the rows of bookshelves. The muscles of his jaw were set in a tight line; he wasn’t here to browse; he knew what he wanted and was making his determined way towards it. You watched him carefully, waiting until the perfect moment to speak. How the hell were you going to ask?

“Let’s wait a minute-” Esme made to cut you off but you continued quickly. “Just to see where he goes. I don’t want to ask in front of everyone.”

Esme huffed but nodded, and you both went back to watching him.

“This feels creepy,” you said, watching as he got closer.

“All we’re doing is looking at him.” Esme said matter of factly. But that wasn’t quite true. It felt altogether more like you were studying him. Something about Michael Gavey meant you couldn’t look away.

Just as when you last saw him, his clothes looked second hand. Or like something an aunt would by. A crisp, short-sleeved shirt, starchly ironed, tucked into a pair of beige cargo trousers. Vile. Around his belt swung a number of carabiners, one containing his keys, another a collection of USB sticks. They jangled as he walked past.

You ducked your head to avoid being seen. Esme scoffed. You kicked her under the table.

The two of you watched his retreating back. You noticed you weren’t the only ones looking at him. A few other students, some boys smirking and some girls, were watching him to. None indicated that they knew him personally, for none sent him a smile or a wave. They simply watched as he passed. His reputation really did precede him.

You tried to think on what it was that made Michael Gavey so hard to ignore. He had done nothing today but enter the library and, by now, everyone knew him to be a stuck-up knobhead. So what was it that was making everyone stare?

Perhaps it was the rigidity with which he walked, so upright and solid. For one so thin, you imagined that if someone bumped into him now he would just continue walking as though nothing happened. Maybe it was the unnerving way in which his grey eyes stared. You remembered them from before. How he analysed people, unblinking, as he spoke to them, dissecting every minutia of their movement behind his glasses.

Could it be, that underneath the dreadful clothes and frankly alarming attitude, he was quite handsome? You blushed at the thought and turned away from Esme.

In another life, with better clothes, better glasses, a kinder face, he might have been attractive. Afterall, his hair was that Gisele Bündchen colour girls in your sixth form tried unsuccessfully to get from the bottle. His face was all angles, like the bassist in some boy band. Not front man handsome, but with a little something that appealed to the weird girls. And he was tall. God, was he tall. Not Felix Catton tall, but after him he’d been the tallest at the pub. You remembered the way he’s unfurled his body uncomfortably from the chair. Even now, he was almost half the height of some of the old bookshelves. When he came to a stop, depositing his Tesco carrier bag on the table with a rustle, his shoulder bumped into one of the shelves, and you noticed how broad they were, accentuated by the black leather belt holding up his trousers. Who’d have thought it? Michael Gavey vaguely good-looking. Shame he was a prick.

“There you go,” Esme whispered in your ear as Michael disappeared between two shelves. “Perfect chance.”

Your mouth went dry. You’d momentarily forgotten the reason you were both watching Michael. Sensing your apprehension, Esme turned you by the shoulder and looked you deep in the eye. “It’s fine, I’ll help.” She was loving this, and the two of you spent the next five minutes working out how to approach the Bastard from Brasenose.

You tried to get rid of Esme as quietly as possible.

“Just let me do it on my own!” you hissed.

“I don’t trust you, not after last time!” She was pushing you towards the bookshelf Michael was browsing. You were digging your feet in.

“Please, just let me-”

“No,” Esme giggled, pushing you closer to the shelves. “You’ll either have an argument or not ask at all. I want to see this.”

Your hand gripped the wooden bookcase just as you arrived and blocked her from going any further. She pushed against you, trying to force you towards Michael.

“I’ll do it, Esme, just give me a second!”

“Just get on with it, for God’s sake!” she whispered with a shove.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!”

“Can I help you?”

You both jolted. Michael was staring at you, his hands balled into fists at his side. He looked…nervous. Esme had clearly pushed you closer to him than you’d thought.

“No, er, sorry,” you took a step backwards only to be blocked by Esme.

“Oh,” Michael relaxed a little, a tight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s you.”

You stared at him. “You don’t need to sound so offended by my presence.”

“You’re the one stumbling around the library hissing like a banshee.”

You were about to retort when Esme caught your arm warningly. You looked back at her with annoyance. She simply nodded at you and gestured to take a deep breath.

“Sorry, Michael,” you said. He flinched a little as you said his name, not that you noticed. Esme did. “Erm,”

“She has something she wants to ask you, Michael.”

“Ask me?”

Fucking hell, here goes. You tired to smile at him. He stared back blankly. Why did he make everything so bloody difficult?

“Yeah, um,” you stepped forward and leant against the bookshelf for support, to make it seem less formal. “Well, Esme is having an end of year party-”

“A dinner party,” Esme cut in.

“-and we wondered.”

“She wondered!”

“We wondered,” you said louder, drowning out your friend. “If you’d like to come? Maybe?”

Michael stared at you. His head jerked almost imperceptibly, as if it had suddenly fallen out with his neck, and he scoffed quietly. “Is this a joke?”

“What?” You and Esme said together.

“Are you taking the piss?”

“What? No-”

Michael placed the book he was reading back on the shelf and faced you both fully. “Get out of the way please, you’re blocking the exit.”

“Michael,” he stopped again when you said his name.

“Honestly, we’re not taking the piss.” Esme said kindly.

“We saw you come in, and Esme keeps reminding me what a bitch I was at the pub.” Never mind the fact that you were an absolute arsehole. “And we just thought, as a way to apologise, you might like to come to the party? Fresh start?”

“I don’t do parties.”

“It’s-a-cheese-and-wine-night-actually.” Esme said quickly.

“Right,” he continued staring at you. The longer he did it, the more you regretted asking. Fucking blink. He glanced quickly back at the shelves of books, and screwed his eyes tightly shut, as if working out something impossibly difficult. When he opened his eyes again, you weren’t sure whether he was going to scream or cry.

Then you realised he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking past you. With surprising force and speed, Michael pushed past the both of you.

“Oliver Quick.”

Esme looked at you with excitement. Without a word, you both hurried to the end of the bookcase. There he was. Oliver Quick, caught in a staring contest with Michael Gavey. Oliver glanced quickly at the two of you, eagerly poking your heads around the shelf to get the gossip.

Michael hadn’t noticed. “You look different.”

“Do I?” Oliver sounded bored and you wanted to smack him. What was it with the boys at Oxford? He turned away from you all, but Michael wasn’t done with him.

“He’ll get bored of you.” A pang of pity twisted your stomach. Esme had been right. Oliver’s abandonment at the pub had hurt Michael more than he let on.

Oliver stopped and turned around. “Excuse me?”

You glanced at Michael, waiting for his retaliation with bated breath. He said nothing.

“G’wan, Mikey,” Esme whispered.

Oliver walked away, but not before Michael could twist the dagger. “Bootlicker.” He enunciated every delicious, vicious syllable.

Oliver looked back again, only to cast an uncomfortable look at Michael and see Esme swearing at him behind Michael’s back. “For that Michael,” she clapped her hands. “You can be guest of honour!”

Notes: Short one this time but I’m getting back into writing by doing shorter chapters. SO excited to write the party.

Tags: @lexwolfhale* @theoneeyedprince @lovebittenbyevans @fan-goddess @ellrond @very-straight-blog @arcielee @tsujifreya @liv-cole @myfandomprompts @annoyingkittydetective* @elizarbell @solisarium @thekinslayersswordhand @nightdiamond8663* @slowlysparklyninja* @kate-to-the-ki @bellaisasleep @xxxkat3xxx @lacebvnny @moonriseoverkyoto @ewanmitchellcrumbs @moonlightfoxx @pendragora @aemonds-holy-milk @st-eve-barnes @sapphire-writes @babyblue711 @targaryenrealnessdarling @slytherincursebreaker @bottlesandbarricades @valeskafics @anjelicawrites @exitpursuedbyavulcan @barbieaemond @chattylurker @itbmojojoejo @humanpurposes @cyeco13 @heimtathurs @in-a-mountain-pool @aemondsfavouritebastard @marysucks-blog @rheaxes @xivilivix

*could not tag

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #saltburn #oliver quick #michael gavey x oc #assortedseaglass

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uarmymoonlight · 5 months

Text

after the afterparty

pairing: nerd!namjoon X ex-mean girl!reader

genre: frenemies (? sorta) to lovers, rivals to lovers, college!au, one-shot, angsty, smut,

summary: after a night of partying with your (now ex-)classmates, namjoon finds you alone in the kitchen and unspoken feelings and desires come rushing to the surface

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, reader’s a bit of an asshole, namjoon kinda idolizes her, lots of untold backstory for the #angst, tit/nipple play, biting (lightly)

words: a little over 4.8k

taglist: @kyglover @luaspersona

crossposted on AO3: here.

image by @/chimigraphic on twitter

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

You finally take a deep breath of the cold night air. Eyes closed, beer in hand, hip leaned in against the kitchen counter. Another deep breath.

This night took a real toll on you: 2 hours of pre-game plus 4 of partying and an unbelievable 2 and a half more of after-partying, all in the name of socialization and redemption. But it’s over now.

You let the silence embrace and erase you. The outdoor lights paint the room with a faint blue and the only sound is a car passing by and the sink leaking. It’s just you there. The rest have gone to bed – their own or someone else’s - or back to their own airbnbs. But, as tired as you are, you stay there in the kitchen. This last moment of silence before you leave this place for good. And these long nearly 9 hours of today won’t matter. The people at the party won’t matter. Not even that award-stealing, headache-inducing, infuriating, dimpled assh–

A noise stops your thoughts. You turn to your right to see Namjoon kneeling down to catch the water bottle he’d dropped.

“Namjoon.”

“Hey”, he licks his lips “I...I thought everyone else was gone or sleeping.”

“So did I.”

A beat of silence goes by and then another, a longer one. You could almost laugh at the silence that sets between the two of you. Had this happened a while back, you would’ve already told him to fuck off and probably insulted him somehow. Then again, had this been back then, he would’ve been vexing you endlessly by refusing to let the silence just be, doing that nervous back-and-forth on his heels he used to do all the time and talking your ear off.

This isn’t back then, however. So now, you’re just looking at each other.

Alright. You said you’d change your attitude, didn’t you? Here’s a test for you to prove you did. Your chance to do something to Namjoon you’ve never done before: be nice.

“Congratulations.”

He scoffs, incredulous.

“You’re congratulating me?”

You can’t say you’re surprised he asked. There was a time you’d rather have eaten your own two feet before ever complimenting Namjoon to his face, a time you’d have done anything to not stay in the same room as him. Let alone just the two of you together.

“Well, I did tell you I would, when you deserved it” you remind him “You won the academic decathlon, graduated top of the class, and you got the girl. You deserve it now, so there you go: congratulations.” you raise your glass slightly to him.

He hesitates.

“I got a girl.”

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn’t. You keep staring at him with those piercing eyes of yours. He hates them. Hates how much he’s always been so aware of them. Hates how much he’s always been so desperate to understand the emotions behind them. But, most of all, he hates how beautiful he finds them, how much they make him feel so on the spotlight, so special.

He watches you open and close your mouth. Once. Twice. You’re speechless? Now here’s one for the history books, he thinks. You’re probably debating whether you should ask him or not about what he meant by that. And God, he hopes you do. He wants you to ask him, he so desperately does. He needs you to want to know what he means. He needs this opening to tell you exactly why Seulgi isn’t the girl, he needs this one chance to tell you what he’s been holding in for so long, the feelings that are always on the tip of his tongue.

Namjoon waits for you to ask. But you don’t. You look away.

You can’t ask him, because that question leads to things you’ve already shut the door of, a long time ago. And he should know better than to try and get it out of you. But he’s Namjoon. Namjoon, always the hopeful idealist, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. And you, always the scoffing pessimist, the egotistical cold bitch. So, you take the coward’s route and when you look back at him all you say is:

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” So there’s no point in talking about any of this, is what you don’t say.

“I know.”

Again, neither of you talk for a while. In silence, you simply look at each other. The air between you is tense with something neither could name exactly. Namjoon breaks the silence this time.

“Dance with me?” he extends his left hand to you.

“There’s no music.”

He shrugs and insists “Dance with me.”

You look at his still stretched hand towards you and it’s almost a perfect flashback of that one night so many nights ago. When he had also reached out for you, in ways more than just physical. When Namjoon had laid out so much of himself for you and all you did was spit it back at him.

“You owe me this one”, he says. Maybe he’s an ass for insisting on this, but God knows you actually do owe him at least this one. You do, and you know it. “You didn’t even talk to me at my party earlier”, he adds.

And it’s just another time that you realize he really is a much better person than you are for using the party as leverage, and not…Well, everything else you’ve done. It’s something you’re not sure you would’ve done for him.

You softly put down your beer on the counter, looking at it while you do so. Anything to not look at him just yet. You need those extra few seconds to…You don’t know what for. To prepare? To breathe? It isn’t to think, surely. Maybe that’s it. You need to not think about what you’re going to do. When the can touches the counter, you spin it a couple times, staring at the label.

With your peripheral vision, you can see Namjoon’s offering hand still out. Again, you remember another moment, a long time ago, when he offered his hand too. You had refused it. God, you suck at this not thinking thing. Andnd you suck at not being a coward.

You finally peel away from the counter and walk quietly to namjoon. You stare at his hand and, taking your time, you slide yours in it. Feeling every inch of his skin until both of your hands are completely touching, and when that happens, you feel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding come out. You feel a bit pathetic for it. The worst part is you hear Namjoon doing the same thing.

Namjoon is smart, you know that. You and everyone who saw him beat you at everything academic-related year after year after year. He’s smart. But he’s not truly smart. If he were truly smart, you think, he’d pull away right now. If he were, he’d turn his back away from you for good.

He doesn’t. He slides his hand from yours to your elbow, caressing your forearm on his way and pulls you in. His fingers on his right hand brush against you, starting with your fingers and going up until he settles it on your waist, pulling you in even more. Not letting go of your elbow, he places your hand on his chest and you complete the action by sliding both your arms around his neck.

You still haven’t looked in his eyes, focusing on his shirt. Actually, his chest. You’d rather not think about that.

You feel his presence all around you, feel him on your skin even though very few parts of you are really touching the other. You feel his head close to yours, your feet almost touching. The two of you stand locked in place.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?” His voice is little more than a breath.

“Move.”

You hear him scoff lightly and get brave enough to glance at him through your eyelashes. Only a shadow of a smile rests on his lips, so his famous dimples are nowhere in sight.

As he begins to lead you, that quivering bravery you felt moments ago vanishes. You go back to staring at his shirt while embarrassingly hoping you don’t step on his toes. You'd count your steps, instead of just hoping you're doing it right. That is if you knew how to do that. Shouldn't there be music in order to properly count the steps? Isn't that how it works? You count by following the beat of the song, right? But, then again, there's supposed to be music when you dance regardless of the counting. God, what a stupid idea. Why did you agree to this anyway?

Namjoon pulls you even closer, joining your chests and your thighs together as you draw in a surprised breath and let out a sigh. Now, your nose brushes against his lips.

Ah, right. That is why.

You really can't do this not-thinking thing. Product of years over worrying about your social status and over analyzing every interaction you had to make sure you came out on top. It’s actually a lot of hard work being the main top bitch in the area.

Briefly, you wonder what people would think if they saw you right now in his arms. You wonder what Namjoon thinks of this whole scene.

And what an interesting scene it is: the dim lights covering you like a blanket while you quietly embrace, a dance that is little more than just swaying softly to a soundtrack of whispers and wind. You can see your pale reflections on the window. The image akin to that of ghost lovers lost to time, only united by the sound of emptiness when time is frozen. Maybe is because of that image of emptiness and stillness, and because you already decided to leave that you tell him:

"I'm sorry.” It's said so softly, so hopelessly, that Namjoon nearly misses it.

There’s so much he could say to that and yet…He puts a hand on your chin and pulls you away just enough to look at your face. With your eyebrows frowning and your beautiful eyes wide scanning him, you look as scared as Namjoon feels. Namjoon traces your face with his thumb: eyebrow to temple to cheek to your lips. This last caress makes your lips part a little, enough for only a thread of air to pass, and eyes flutter.

There’s so much he could say, but there's only one thing he wants.

Your lips touch in a strong kiss. A kiss that is like that first leap of courage into a cold pool. You know the water will be cold at first, but you also know that if you don't jump, you'll never get into the pool. And just like in a pool, neither of you breathe for a while. Just like in a pool, Namjoon is terrified of that first splash of water, scared you'll push him away.

The kiss ends and you catch your breaths. Not for long, though. You grab the lapel of his jacket to pull him in again and relock your lips. Now, you make sure it's a proper kiss, you take your time learning how to kiss him and how you two fit. After a swirl of your tongue, you feel his hand on your lower back put more pressure and pin you closer. Your legs open slightly and he puts one of his legs a little in between yours, his crotch rubbing against yours as you kiss. As you sink your finger deeper into his jacket, Namjoon firmly grabs the back of your neck and presses his hold. The shivers all over your body and your moan encourage him.

A surprised gasp leaves you when Namjoon, with one hand grabbing your neck and the other around your waist, moves you until your back is against a wall. The cold surface touching your back provides a small break from the hot and heavy air between you and him. A small part of you - the part that isn’t busy kissing him - is a little shocked at how strong he got. When you first met him, he was all height and bones. You’d heard he’d started going to the gym some semesters ago, but you sorta refused to really acknowledge it and, when your eyes and body acknowledged that independently, your brain made a conscious choice to ignore it. At the moment, you don’t have much brainpower to make any choice besides making out with him.

Namjoon likes to think he's self aware enough to not be an arrogant prick, but he can't stop the feeling of pride taking over him as you touch him with such clear appreciation of his new physique. He responds to it with his own devotion, intoxicated by your trademark perfume, the same lingering scent that would always tempt him whenever you left a room.

You feel his toned chest and your hands travel along his strong shoulders. And you feel a bit stupid, a bit clichè, because you put your hands on his upper arms and squeeze his biceps. Kinda like in those stupid movies where the sweet bimbo cheerleader fakes coyness as she fawns over the totally not humble quarterback’s muscles. Okay, so, yeah, maybe it’s a bit eye-rolling worthy, but God! his biceps! If his biceps weren’t enough…his thighs! His thighs are huge and strong and you think you’re not really ashamed of how you gladly let him put one of them between your legs. Also, you don’t care that you two are unabashedly dry humping each other, like two horny inexperienced teenagers. Well, suppose that goes with the cheerleader-quarterback thing. Besides, Namjoon certainly doesn’t seem to mind, guiding and motivating your movements by stroking your ass.

Jesus, dry humping someone should not feel this good. You keep going, more, more and more, feeling yourself get wetter with each move, feeling Namjoon get harder each time you feel his dick brushing against your lower belly. He lifts your leg and repositions himself at a better angle so it isn’t just the friction that’s doing it for you, but the hard pressure of his dick too making you nearly lose your mind in need of him - and he's barely touched you. How come you're affected by him like this?

You open your eyes to see him leaving messy kisses along your skin, making his way down your neck past your collarbones. When he reaches your cleavage he makes it a point to maintain eye contact and lazily kisses the space between your breasts. Again, Namjoon isn't particularly conceited, still, he shows a boastful smirk at your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continues his way down your body, his hands trailing its contours and feeling the soft silk of your dress he wished you weren’t wearing.

To him, you’re beautiful like a queen: proud, imposing, and powerful. You’ve always been. He thinks it’s your sharp, intelligent eyes, your intent look, but it’s also your straight and confident posture. Looking at you at the moment, though he can still see that spark of intelligence, your eyes are heavy-lidded. Your posture is not insecure, it’s solicitous, fully ready to give in to him. But you’re still you and because you’re still you that there’s still a hint of royal impatience in the way you press yourself against his body, demanding more out of him.

The vision of him going down past your belly button makes you take a breath and arch your back in anticipation. You'd sooner kill yourself before saying you felt butterflies in your stomach, but you do feel something. It takes all your little sense of self control to not grab his hair and lead him straight to where you want him. You don’t have a chance to actually do this since he’s already dipping even lower, eyeing you with malice and desire and nearly driving you crazy with need. You feel your nipples harden when he strokes your folds through your panties with his thumb before pushing the clothing aside.

“Namjoon”, you moan.

He lets out a low growling sound at that and begins exploring your pussy. Fingers and tongue take turns touching and tasting you. His fingers open and stretch you while his mouth sucks on your clit. You think you mumble something along the lines of “yes” and “there” a few times. Your fingers curl in response and your hips move following his rhythm. He licks and sucks and tastes and touches and strokes and you feel yourself closer to cumming with each movement.

Once more, you catch a glimpse of yourselves in a window. The sight is one of pure depravation. You see how dishelved you look, your lips swollen from the kisses and hair an entangled mess on your head, dress hiked up as one of your legs is proped up on Namjoon’s shoulder, a hand of his squeezing your thigh.You’re a bit impressed at how he’s still at it, when your last few hook-ups seemed to want to eat you out as quickly as possible only to say they did it. You’ve never really seen a man who seems so happy to eat pussy like Namjoon. You watch your reflection for a little bit longer while he continues edging you.

Enough. You need all of him now.

“Namjoon”, you say breathlessly. It was a command, but your mind can only think about his tongue on your pussy. You try again. You forcefully pull his head back “Namjoon.”

He hisses a bit due to the force of you pulling his hair.

“Yes, Your Highness?” you squint your eyes in annoyance hearing the mocking nickname he gave you so long ago. You hated the nickname, because you knew it wasn’t a compliment, just a veiled insult of his. However, hearing it while he’s on his knees for you…not bad, you think, not bad at all. Especially when his already deep voice sounds deeper and raspy, the words coming out with a drawl.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He’s up in a second, leading you upstairs. The way up is confusing and chaotic, with the two of you nearly running but barely letting go of each other, hot and lewd kisses exchanged while you walk. You have no idea how Namjoon finds the right door. He stops kissing you only to open the bedroom’s door, which you quickly shut behind you. He tries to put you against it, but you flip him and press him to the door instead.

For a moment, you only look at him. Spreading your hands on his muscular chest, you listen to your heavy breathing.

“Y/N.”

You kiss him again. You put your lips on his neck and take your time there, busying your hands with taking off his jacket and then unbottuning his shirt. When you finish, you stroke his bulge through his pants. Namjoon lets out a hungry hiss that has you rubbing your thighs together. The point of stroking him was to tease Namjoon, you wanted to see if you could get him so worked up as he’d done to you. Unfortunately for you, you find out that that’s a double edged sword and it’s sharper end is pointed towards you, because the more you touch him the more you feel yourself get hotter. Having him in your hand only makes your mouth water.

There’s only one thing you can think of right now. You pull his member out of his pants, stroking the full length once before you turn him and push him down on the bed. Namjoon watches you crawl onto the bed and fully take off his pants and underwear. It’s not slow and sweet or careful. Every motion of yours is aggressive and fast, eyes gleaming with a hungry determination Namjoon is sure is mirrored in his own eyes. You’re beautiful, so so beautiful. On all fours over him like a fucking lioness ready for her meal. Just looking at you like this makes him even harder.

Maybe the gentlemanly thing would be to stop and tell you there’s no need to repay the favor of earlier. But, well, maybe Namjoon isn’t a gentleman, after all. And he’d surely never deny you of anything, not when you so clearly want him. The idea of you wanting him just a fraction of how much he wants you is the best feeling in the world. Or rather, the second best. Because the first is definitely the feeling of your mouth on him.

You take his full length in your mouth, coating his dick with your saliva. Namjoon watches as you alternate between teasing kitten licks on his cockhead and properly sucking him off, your hands griping the base of his cock. God, you’re not simply beautiful, you’re gorgeous. He fights against the urge to roll back in his eyes in order to watch you going down on him. Your hair is thrown around, some of it tickling his thigh while your head keeps bobbing up and down, your makeup is smeared and your dress is a crumpled mess. And you’re gorgeous.

You make eye contact with him with your lips still wrapped around him and he thinks he’s gonna die. Or cum. Probably both. Maybe it’s his dick talking, but he thinks he’d die happy right now.

“Tell me what you like”, you tell him.

“You.”

The immediate blurted out answer shocks you a bit. You scoff.

“You really can’t keep it in.”

In the split second you don’t move, Namjoon starts to deflate. He ruined everything. He waits for you to get up and leave.

You don’t.

You lean forwards and kiss him. The kiss is nothing more than just the press of your lips together. You ignore the still lingering doubt in Namjoon’s eyes. Reaching past him, you go through the drawers on the nightstand. As you look for condoms, your tits are hanging above Namjoon’s head and he peppers kisses on them. After a few seconds, you get the condom out the drawer.

Namjoon tries taking it out of your hands.

“Give me, I can do it.”

“No”, you stop him. “It’s fine.”

You kiss him lightly on the cheek. Namjoon has to stop for a bit. You’d never been so…soft with him before. Not even in those few months long ago when you had been something akin to friends.

Not wasting any time, you put the condom on his cock. You quickly take your panties off and guide his lenght to where you want it. You two stare at each other as you sink yourself on his cock. Moaning at how he stretches you out. You love how full he makes you feel. He’s so big, his cock makes you feel so good. Having him in your mouth was one thing, having him inside you was heavenly. You place a hand on Namjoon’s chest.

“Lay down.”

Because you personally believe feminism is about having a buff hot nerdy guy under you while you get yourself off.

Head on the pillows, he watches you move your hips, leading him in a slow sensual rhythm. Moaning, your head rolls back in pleasure, mouth open to help you breathe better. The two of you pick up the pace, you bouncing on his cock a little then reverting back to grinding.

“Y/N, your dress. Please.”

Understanding what he means, you pull your dress above your head and toss it to the side. With both hands holding your hips, he only gives your tits a dazed glare. He keeps watching when you take your own hand and play with your tits. Namjoon growls and thrusts his hips upwards harder when you lick two of your fingers and use them to play with your nipples, caressing and pinching them, your palms massaging the rest of the soft flesh.

“Like that?”

The raspiness of your voice, that sparkle of meanness in your eyes, that one raised eyebrow on your face…it’s all almost too much for Namjoon. You are gorgeuous. And he’s so impossibly hard.

“Yeah.”

The word almost doesn’t come out. You shake your head and giggle at him. Only you. Only you could be bouncing on a guy’s cock, suck him off, have him eat you out, and, with just a little giggle, make the guy blush. Still, if feels so good to make you laugh. Even if it’s at him. So good.

Almost beats being inside of you. Almost.

Namjoon flips you and lays you down on the bed. Immediately after you hit the mattress, he’s already on you, mouth licking and sucking on you tit. His pace gets faster, more franctic, more desperate. Hitting deeper and deeper. When he hits a sweet spot, you moan louder.

“Yeah, there. More. More. Yes. Yeah,” you repeat the words like a mantra.

“So beautiful”, he tells you. “Almost there, baby.”

God, the pet name. “Can’t take it anymore”, you say.

“Yeah, you can, baby. You can take it all.”

He knows you can. You - open wide for him, hair spread on the pillows like a halo, nipples hardened for him, pussy clenching around him - can take it. You are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

On top of you, Namjoon looks like a fucking beast, in the best way possible. Eyebrows furrowed and barring his teeth, his honey skin sprinkled with sweat. A drop of it slips from his forehead and falls on your cheek and you finally cum. Moaning his name over and over. He put his mouth again on your tit, gritting your nipple between his front teeth. With a final moan out of you, Namjoon empties himself inside the condom.

For a few seconds, you don’t move, just listen to each other breathing. Namjoon feels himself getting softer inside you and, on the back of his mind, he dreads the moment he pulls out from you. Dreads the moment you realise whatever you were doing was over, and so was your business with him.

Still, he can’t stay inside you forever. He pulls out.

He busies himself with taking the condom off him and throwing it away while he notices you get tissues from the nightstand to clean yourself up. He mentally kicks himself for not doing it for you, but then again, maybe you don’t want him doing this for you. That’s another kind of intimacy you haven’t given him the greenlight to do. Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

You put your dress back on and his heart aches. “First door to the right. Hey, uh - “ he begins before you leave “I’ll go get water. Do you want some?”

You shake your head and leave the room.

Silently, he puts his underwear and pants back on and goes to the kitchen, trying all the way down to not think of you.

He stays a little bit longer than needed in the kitchen. Even after everything, he still can’t feel sure of anything with you. There’s still that ugly feeling of inadequacy whispering in his head that he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Tonight was just a fluke.

Namjoon goes back to the bedroom expecting you to not be there anymore. He imagines you jumping out of the bathroom window to escape him or sneaking off through the roof. If he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for what you two could’ve been, he’d probably laugh at the scenarios he made up.

When he opens the bedroom door, though, he finds you there. Curled up under the sheets on one side of the bed. Your eyes are closed and your face is serene. He hesitates.

“You’re not gonna sleep?”

You ask without opening your eyes. Namjoon doesn’t answer, but he climbs onto bed behind you. He doesn’t touch you, but he’s close enough that you feel his warmth beside you and his breathing on your neck.

A while of silence goes by. He’s not sure if you’re already asleep. However, there’s one more thing he needs to say to you, even if you don’t hear it. Something he was too much of a coward to say before.

“Stay.”

You open your eyes. You’re careful to make no move to alert him you’re still up.

You think about his request. Stay. Part of you wants to, part of you - a very small and recent part of you that is hopeful, a part that is only there because Namjoon coaxed it out of you - says you could stay. Stay. You could stay with him. Stay in his bed. In this city. Stay…

Like you said, though, that is a very small part of you. The biggest one is a coward.

When Namjoon wakes up to an empty side of the bed the next day, he instantly knows what happened.

You left.

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

author’s note: my first attempt at writing smut (at least full on smut, star to finish), hope it doesn’t suck :DDDD any and all feedback/comments are appreciated

#kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon fanfic #rm x reader #rm imagine #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #my writing #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #bts

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sc0tters · 8 months

Text

Teach Me | Mackie Samoskevich

summary: when Mackie learns of your struggles he finds a way for you both to win.

request: yes/no

trope: lessons in bed

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), swearing.

word count: 1.76k

authors note: first off kei thanks for helping with this and I’m sorry that I didn’t do it justice. This piece just didn’t click with me tonight but I really wanted to get it out for you all. So thanks for reading as an build the celly up.

Mackie knew that it was wrong.

The way he thought about you as his room went dark each night, how your laugh made him feel. But worse of all how Mackie let out a cheer when he realised that Spencer was being sent to the AHL. Yes all of it was wrong.

But as your boyfriend left you in the state of Florida with Mackie as your next door neighbour, he couldn’t help but feel like the universe was on his side.

You two had grown close, the daily dinners together helped that bond grow. By the end of October Mackie was your favourite person in the state.

So naturally he was the man who eventually heard about the struggles you didn’t want to share with your boyfriend.

Spencer was a great guy, don’t get you wrong. But he was as vanilla as they came, especially when the distance came into play. Phone calls about your days ended in ‘I love yous’ and you knew you should have been happy about it.

Yet you wanted him to tell you how he pictured his hand around his cock being your mouth instead. The two videos you had tried to send Spencer with you wearing nothing in them it only had your boyfriend requesting that you stopped sending those to him.

To say that you were a mess of horny nerves was an understatement “you okay?” Mackie asked snapping his fingers in front of you.

You had taken him up on the offer of going to the gym in your apartment building together, ironically the offer came up minutes after your vibrator decided to stop working “yep.” No you weren’t. Mackie was in his compression shirt and some shorts that left little to the imagination.

His curls stuck to the top of his forehead “you know you can tell me the truth.” Mackie smiled putting his weight down to crouch between your legs as you were still sat on a weight bench.

It made you feel guilty how you enjoyed the way his eyes looked at you “I miss having someone between my legs!” You blurted out quickly slapping your hand over your mouth feeling grateful that nobody else was in the gym.

Mackie’s eye almost popped out of his head “you’re going to need to elaborate f’me princess.” His voice was soft as he pulled your hand away from your face so that he could hear you again.

The gesture calmed your nerves “you promise you won’t judge me?” You were dangerously close to telling him everything at its most unfiltered “I promise.” The hockey player moved to your side joining you on the bench.

You sighed fiddling with the ends of your braid “Spence seems like he’s no longer sexually attractive to me and my vibrator decided to break this morning-” your cheeks reddened as your ramble worsened “did you finish?” Mackie crossed his arms.

“What?”

“Did you finish?”

All you needed to do was shake your head to make him smile “even when I do it’s not the same.” The feeling of someone’s cock in your cunt was truly never going to be replaced by the device that you now swore hated you “do girls like being gone down on?” Mackie’s question was genuine causing you to hold back a laugh “have you never gone down before?” He shook his head staying quiet until it seemed like he had a light bulb go off above his head “I think I have an idea that could help us both.”

You practically followed Mackie downstairs to his apartment like you were a lost dog as you followed him back “what do you say?” His suggestion made sense to you, you got your release and he got the practice.

The environment was safe, you two were comfortable and you both needed this. All signs pointed to yes “what about Spence?” Sure you knew your thoughts about the boy in front of you weren’t pure but you still loved your boyfriend “what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” Mackie shrugged causing you to nod “let’s do it.”

His room had a similar layout to yours. It smelt of smoke oak and a candle you swore you had given him “you sure you’re okay with this?” Mackie watched as you sat on his bed.

You smiled at his care “c’mere Mackie.” You held your finger up at him motioning for him to come over to you.

The hockey player smirked as your cool fingers ran up the inside of his shirt “shit baby.” The American groaned as he leaned down.

Kissing you was everything he thought it would be. His lips were rough against yours his tongue slide over your lip making you gasp.

He pulled away to look at you “won’t make you wait for this.” Mackie smiled shifting his attention to your leggings “your ass looks so fucking good in these.” He confessed making your cheeks redden “Mackie-” you groaned feeling his hands run up your now bare thighs.

Mackie smirked “tell me what you want?” His lips pressed against your skin making you forget how to speak English “your tongue.” You begged watching as his fingers hooked in your waistband of your panties “where baby?” The boy watched as you grabbed at his sheets.

Your bare cunt faced him making him lick his lips “on my cl-clit.” Your voice was shaky as he wearily ran his tongue over the sensitive nub “fuck!” You groaned almost jumping in the process.

Mackie was quick to pull away as he thought he had done something wrong “go softer,” you pleaded sticking your tongue out in the way you want him to do so. The hockey player nodded repeating his actions with your instructions “right there.” You nearly melted into his mattress as he watched you silently taking that as approval.

His tongue lay flat against your slit “use it like your fingers.” You remembered that you were meant to be teaching him “fuck my pussy.” You instructed him wrapping your fingers in his hair.

You gasped feeling his tongue thrust into your cunt as his nose hit your clit “Jesus Mackie!” You cried feeing his fingers move to your pussy “you liking that baby?” Mackie cooed focusing his tongue on your clit once more.

This allowed him to thrust his fingers at a quicker pace drawing louder noises from your lips “y-yeah.” You nodded bringing your hand to cover your mouth “let me hear you.” The hockey player clicked his tongue as he focused on getting you close.

As your thighs wrapped around his head Mackie couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t done this before “I’m gonna come.” You announced not even caring about how quickly you grew close to your high.

Mackie continued to suck at your clit occasionally laying his tongue flat causing you to arch your back “don’t stop.” You begged driving your hips into his face as your body shook letting pleasure wash over you.

The boy didn’t stop his movements until you were pulling his face up to yours “fucking hell,” you mumbled not wasting time to kiss him.

Mackie enjoyed how your release tasted on his tongue “so sweet,” his voice was soft “you’re a good listener.” You were quick to compliment him letting your eyes flash down to the bulge in his shorts.

It seemed that the boy want get all embarrassed but you stopped him “think you deserve a reward.” You mumbled bringing him onto the bed with you.

In that moment he swore he was in heaven. Watching you let his cock go free from his pants only really bringing him back to reality when you let your cunt sink down on his cock “you’re so big.” You were both far too focused on the pleasure that soaked the room to care that he was fucking you raw “oh my god.” Mackie groaned watching you pull your shirt over your head leaving you both naked now.

His eyes stuck to your nipples particularly the one highlighted with a titanium bar “been hiding this beauty.” The hockey player didn’t waste time bringing his lips to it.

Your head fell back as your eyes screwed shut “making me feel so good.” You gasped occasionally hitting your clit against his torso as you rode his cock.

The room began to feel sticky as your hands went to his chest softly running up his abs “you like them baby?” Mackie smiled kissing up your neck as he held back a smirk at your responsiveness.

The two of you had been quiet for the most part as you enjoyed the peace that you got. Softy savouring each and every second of this like there was a small part of you that knew this couldn’t happen again.

A cry left your lips as you brought your hand down to rub your “you feel me in there?” Mackie’s hand pressed against your stomach making you nod “yeah.” Your mouth formed an o.

Now just because Mackie wasn’t used to eating girls out it certainly didn’t mean that he didn’t know that face, you were close.

Which was a good thing because the way your cunt squeezed his cock he was not far behind you “I know baby you can let it go.” The hockey player’s words seemed to let you drop your face into the nook of his neck.

His fingers dug into your hips as you whined finally coming for the second time in the night “oh my god.” Mackie had to held guide your body as it shuddered above him “holy shit!” The boy let out a grunt as your cunt clenched around him causing his cock to throb as he came.

Mack used his fingers to brush your hair out of your face “you okay?” He asked with his chest still heaving as he recovered from his orgasm “never better,” you nodded sending him a smile before you kissed his lips.

12 weeks later

You knew something was off, you hadn’t felt well and all of the possibilities of what could be causing this you had crossed off.

Well all but one. Your period had yet to come and was now eight weeks late.

So there you sat on the floor of your bathroom waiting for the alarm to go off.

It pulled your attention away from your gaze as your alarm went off.

Pregnant

Yet the thing that made you feel worse was that tonight was your first time seeing Spencer since he got sent to the AHL.

#ambers 500 celly #Mackie Samoskevich smut #mackie samoskevich #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #imagines #oneshots #hockey smut #nhl smut #amber writes fics

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loveshotzz · 2 years

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Summary: Eddie hooks you up with an eighth after showing up to his place strapped for cash.

Warnings: Just horny for Eddie to play with some tiddies. Virgin Eddie, slight perv! Eddie. Corruption kink if you squint. 18 plus No Minors!

Author’s Note: I dedicate this to my sweet gorgeous wife @myobmaya for helping me create this story with our many late night whoring sessions about Eddie. I love you bb 💖

Tag List: @snapped-chopstick @bimbobaggins69 @sammararaven @dixontardis @hanahkatexo @heyyimmisunderstood @anxietybbie-blog @skyfullofsong123 @briistrash @thicksexxualtension

Eddie’s eyes are trained on your tongue as it slides over the adhesive seal of the rolling paper. The way you were looking up at him through your lashes while you did it felt intentional, feeling it in the way his jeans tightened.

Adjusting himself subtly in his seat on the couch, it didn’t help the fact the you happened to be on your knees in front of him. Leaning over the table slightly not to spill any weed on the floor giving him the perfect view down your tank top. It had been a particularly hot summer day, causing there to be a light sheen of sweat on your skin from your walk over here. He watched a drop slowly slide down from the nape of your neck to the curve of your cleavage and he couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight.

“Thanks again Eddie, I really owe you one for this.” Your sweet voice breaks his focus, brown eyes meeting yours trying to comprehend the words that just left your mouth.

The knowing smirk tugging at your lips makes his face heat up, scarlet spreading from his neck to his cheeks. He’d been caught.

“Quit being a perv Munson.” You tease, you’d be lying if his wandering eyes didn’t go straight to your ego. Eddie was cute. A flustered Eddie was even cuter.

“Sorry! They’re just kind of out right now.” He tries to reason with you but even he knows that’s not a real excuse. Rubbing his hand down his face he tries to shake the image of what he thinks your tits look like out of his head.

“What exactly is out right now? Care to elaborate?” Cocking your eyebrow you play dumb, twirling the joint in between your fingers as you light it.

Eddie’s eyes widen not expecting you to put him on the spot like this. Leaning forward he starts rubbing the tops of his thighs nervously. He can feel his palms getting sweaty through the holes in his jeans.

“Come on, really? You’re gonna make me say it?”

Taking a hit from the joint you let the smoke fill your lungs, leaning your head back slightly your eyes catch the bulge in his pants he’s trying to hide.

“I don’t know what I’m making you say Eddie.”

Getting up from your place on the floor you walk around the coffee table taking another long drag. Eddie’s eyes are everywhere as he takes your curves in, approaching him like an animal stalking it’s prey. Eddie just happened to be very willing prey.

Standing between his spread out legs you lean forward one hand pressed to the couch cushion beside his head. Your other holds out the joint for him to take. From this angle everything he was doing his best not to look at was right in his face.

Gulping loudly Eddie tries his best to keep his eyes connected to yours but when he looks over to grab the joint he just can’t help himself.

“Are you talking about these Eddie?” Your eyes shoot down to the tops of your breasts and then back up to his eyes, his hyper focused stare never meets your gaze. The joint in his hand collecting ash threatening to fall onto the couch.

When his knee starts bouncing nervously you decide to give him a break, smirking you pull yourself out of space his shoulders visibly slump relieved.

“Jesus Eddie, it’s like you’ve never seen a woman’s tits before.” Snatching the joint from his hand you ash it for him before taking another long drag looking at him with curious eyes.

His face somehow turns an even deeper shade of red and his chocolate orbs still won’t meet yours as they search for anything else in the room. The realization that Eddie “The Freak” Munson might be a virgin baffles you.

The handcuffs in his room, the confident demeanor mixed with being a slight asshole to every one, on top of the fact he could play guitar. Getting laid shouldn’t be a problem for someone like him, at least that’s what you had assumed.

“Look, it’s not like women are exactly lining up at my trailer door sweetheart.” He finally gives when he looks up at you.

A part of you feels bad for taunting him, but an even bigger part was turned on by the aspect of how worked up you must be getting him with all of your teasing. The small crush you harbored mixed with the way his eyes couldn’t stay off your body made you feel bold. Besides he was giving you free weed and smoking you up, it’s the least you could do.

Before you can overthink it to much, sticking the joint back into your mouth you use your hands as leverage on the denim of his shoulders, straddling his lap. The feeling of his painfully hard erection is clear as day under the soft fabric of your biker shorts. Your own arousal starting to collect in your panties, it takes everything in you not to grind your hips against him.

“Holy shit I-“ Eddie’s eyes look like they might pop out of their sockets, hands twitching at his sides unsure if he should touch you or not.

“Well, you scratch my back.” His stare is disbelieving as he watches you pull the half way smoked joint from your lips and place it between his. “I’ll scratch yours.”

Eddie takes a drag as you watch the gears in his head start to turn as you slowly push the straps of your tank top down.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, it’s just an eighth you buy from me all the time.” It almost makes you laugh how much of a gentleman he’s still trying to be when the erection pressed against your swollen clit seems to get even harder.

“I know I don’t have to Eddie, I want to.” Smirking you start to pull your top down revealing the lace underneath.

“Jesus H Christ.” he gasps joint dangling loose from his mouth.

Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you can’t help the way your own face heats up at the hunger that’s dancing around his brown eyes devouring the newly exposed skin.

You can feel the heat of his calloused hands tentatively rest on the tops of your thighs. Scared if he really touches you, you’ll change your mind. Taking the joint thats dangerously close from falling out of his mouth, twisting slightly you lean your body back to reach the ashtray, the new angle pushes him in between your folds the sensation making you gasp. His cock twitching in response underneath you.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” He groans throwing his head back, eyes closed with his brows knitted tightly together. The sight of him so fucked out already makes you clench at nothing. “If you’re trying to get free weed for life, it’s fucking yours.”

The laugh that bubbles up from your chest sounds almost evil. You were enjoying this way too much. Reaching behind, your fingers start to working the clasps of your bra. Eddie catches the light noise of your actions and his eyes are back on you. His fingers on your thighs start to dig themselves into the soft meat of them, watching you slowly slip the last bit of fabric away from his view.

Eddie has to actively remember how to breathe when you’re fully exposed to him. Somehow you’re even more gorgeous then whatever late night fantasies of you he’d indulge himself in. Your tits were better then the ones in the magazines he jacked himself off to, even better then the ones in the pornos. They were real and right in from of him and god did he hope you’d let him touch them. He could feel the zipper start to press into the sensitive head of his cock, his fingers digging themselves even deeper into your thighs, nails biting into your skin.

“Still with me?” Placing your hands on top of his, you try to get his attention. His fingers flex relaxing slightly at the sound of your voice, and you can tell he has to try and tear his eyes away from your chest. They are unrecognizable when they meet yours, almost like his pupils had taken over any trace of brown. There’s no control when your hips roll against his, the intensity in his stare making you need friction.

“Fuck me.” Eddie’s voice comes out low with a loud breath exhaling through his nose.

Fingers wrapping around his, you tug at his tight grip. Letting go he lets your hands guide his to your chest, disbelief written all over his face.

“Do you want to touch them Eddie?” Your question makes his eyes roll in the back of his head, a low groan leaving his throat.

“Jesus, you think you have to ask sweetheart?”

Leaning forward keeping his wrists in a tight hold away from where he wants them. You get close enough for your lips to brush against the shell of his ear. Lingering you let your breath tickle against him, enjoying the way he shudders against you.

“No, I just wanted to hear you say it.” He can hear the smirk in your voice before your lips wrap tightly around his earlobe sucking gently. At the same time you press his big hands to your chest, nipples perking up instantly against his palm.

“Holy fucking shit, Jesus fucking Christ ” The intensity of it all almost becomes too much for Eddie, worried if you move even slightly he’ll cum.

Eddie takes a minute to gain his composure, now convinced you were a succubus here to take his soul. He would gladly give it to you, that and all the weed in his trailer if that’s what you were after.

With your hands returning to their place on his shoulders. Eddie squeezes the plush softness of your breasts, feeling the full weight of them in his hand. Fingers spread out, gripping and cupping, pushing them together and pulling them apart. He was like a kid playing with a new toy.

Curiously he pinches one of your hard nipples between is finger tips, the sensation making you whimper and grind against him.

“Eddie-shit.” You close your eyes when he does it again, letting yourself continue to find the friction you desperately need against your clit. You can feel Eddie press his hips up helping you feel all of him, his big doe eyes watching you fall apart under his touch. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence grow in his chest, you liked what he was doing.

“Yeah? You like that?” Eddie does it to both nipples at the same time, making you close your eyes taking your bottom lip between your teeth. All you do is nod unable to find your voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He says it in a way like he’s talking to himself.

He pushes them up from the bottom before smashing them back together, your hard nipples almost touching. His face gets close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, when you look down his eyes are staring up at you, and you already know what he wants to do.

“You can suck them if you want baby.” The pet name leaves your mouth far too easily. You don’t even know if he catches it, his mouth warm and ready capturing one of your pert nipples as soon as you give permission.

Sucking hard he roughly jiggles the one that’s not occupied by his mouth, completely losing himself in them. When his tongue swirls around your areola you don’t know who’s eyes roll harder in the back of their heads.

“Jesus, Eddie you sure you’ve never done this before?” You gasp when his teeth gently tug.

Humming Eddie just shakes his head refusing to break his mouth away from you. You can feel the delicate skin start to bruise under his busy mouth as he starts working on the other one.

Abandoning all self control you start grinding down on him with no shame, your arousal becoming too much to handle. Closing your eyes, he brings your breasts back together his tongue darting from one nipple to the other. Trails of salvia coating them, Eddie doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this as he starts bucking up meeting your thrusts. He can feel your pussy lips wrapped around his length through his denim and he thinks he might lose his mind.

The sound of his ringed fingers harsh smack to the side of your boob makes your eyes snap open. The sting adding more to the pool of slick in your underwear. Eddie’s looking at you through half lidded eyes, his hormones completely taking over. Maintaining eye contact with him you grind down on his erection painfully slow with all of your weight.

Arching an eyebrow, the confident boy you know comes out at your reaction. Slapping them again with more force and you can’t hold back anymore feeling yourself close to getting off on his hard on. His eyes watch amazed as your stretch marks dance across your skin with each slap.

“I want to fucking live in there.” He groans pushing them together one more time, as his face inches closer. You brace yourself for the onslaught of his tongue again.

When it never comes you look down confusion written all over you features. Before words can even leave your mouth he shoves his face completely between them. Moaning loudly at contact pushing himself even further into the folds of your breasts, his nose brushing against your sternum as he rubs his face all over the softness of your skin. His big fingers grip them tight against his face not worried about the lack of oxygen. Inhaling deeply, the scent of your sweat mixed with your arousal soaking through your shorts is so sweet he knows he’s close to cumming.

The animalistic noises that start coming from buried between your breasts makes your wetness pool so much that each movement of your hips feels like your gliding. Watching Eddie completely lose himself in your body was now your number one kink, silently refusing for this to be your last time watching him fall apart underneath you.

Leaving his shoulder one of your hands tangles themselves into his messy waves, you knew he wasn’t going to hear a word you said to him right now. Yanking back with enough force not to hurt him, his head peels from your chest with a loud pop of his lips. Mouth slightly open his full lips are swollen and pink, a light sheen of his own spit coating them. With lids half closed he looked drunk. Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly get any wetter.

“I wanna kiss you when I cum.” You pant, your hips bringing you closer to the brink. The blissed out look on his face almost enough to send you over the edge right now.

Eddie moans loudly when your lips meet his with force, your tongue slipping into his open mouth. He tasted like weed and your strawberry body lotion making your brain hazy, your want becoming all consuming like his.

When his tongue meets yours it’s your turn to lose control, untangling your fingers from his hair you push him back against the couch scooting yourself up on his lap. His hands find their way back to your chest, fingers greedy for more. The new angle mixed with his rough touches send you straight to your high, your body shuddering against him as it crashes through you. Fingers digging into his battle vest, moaning his name into his mouth.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuuck” Breaking from your mouth Eddie’s shuddering beneath you, his firm grip on your tits becoming hard enough you know they’ll be hand shaped bruises in the morning. In this moment watching him cum completely at your mercy, you could care less. Touching your tits had made the mean and scary freak of Hawkins a whimpering mess underneath you.

When Eddie finally catches his breath, his chocolate eyes look like the ones you had grown so fond of again. His fingers start to relax but they still don’t leave their place.

“So, you literally never have to pay for weed again.” He finally gives, goofy grin that makes your heart flutter gracing his handsome features.

Throwing your head back your laugh echos through his trailer, the Judas Priest record that had been playing finally cutting off.

“I’m gonna hold you to that Munson.” You tease, looking down at him. Eddie looked like a man at complete ease, the first time you’d ever seen such a relaxed expression on his animated face.

“You can hold me anytime you want Princess, trust me.” His grin never leaving, his hands finally show you mercy landing back on your thighs.

Leaning forward with one hand cupping his cheek, your thumb drags across his plump bottom lip. Even after everything you can still hear his breath hitch under your touch.

“I know I can.” Cockiness drips from your words before claiming his swollen lips one more time.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x female reader #joseph quinn #steve harrington #kinktober #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Note

i love as you wish more than words can describe! and luke and ryan!! such sweet babies! i can't stop thinking about eddie and reader having their first fight (other than the conflict around the divorce n stuff) after things have gotten settled and the boys getting worried and scared they're going to break up just like mommy and daddy 🥺 xoxo

I’m so glad that you enjoy the series! @munson-blurbs and I had fun writing it—as we always do when we write together. I hope you like what we’ve come up with 🩵

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Babe?” you call out from the bedroom. You’ve searched your closet up and down, but you can’t find the dress you’re supposed to wear. There’s no answer so you repeat yourself a bit louder. “Babe?!”

“Ya,” Eddie says, not bothering to mute the living room TV. He has Ryan on one side of him and Luke on the other; the three of them are engrossed in an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.

You sigh impatiently, resting your hands on your hips. “Where did you put my dress?”

“Huh?” Eddie answers absently. You can hear SpongeBob’s obnoxious laughter echoing through the apartment, which only irritates you further. “What dress?”

Throwing a robe on, you angrily march out to him. “The dress you picked up from the dry cleaners.” You watch as his eyes widen, and his gaze drops to the ground. “Eddie, you did pick up my dress from the dry cleaners, right?”

Eddie scrambles to his feet, slipping into his sneakers and grabbing his keys. “Shit, I’ll go get it right now.”

“It’s Sunday,” you mutter through gritted teeth, determined to keep your cool in front of the kids. “They’re closed on Sundays. That’s why I asked you to pick it up yesterday.”

“Sorry, baby,” he shrugs, “but you have a bunch of others, yeah? You can wear one of those.” He slides off his shoes and plops back onto the couch. “Crisis averted.”

Fuming, you grab the remote from the coffee table and press the power button, watching the colorful backdrop of Bikini Bottom fade to black. Ignoring Luke and Ryan’s disappointed groans, you turn to your boyfriend, lips pressed into a tight line. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” When he continues sitting there, a blank stare on his face, you elaborate. “In the room, please?”

It finally clicks in Eddie’s mind that you’re upset, and he slowly rises from the couch. The two of you are watching one another so you miss the look that the boys share on the couch. You turn around and stalk back into the bedroom. Eddie’s right on your heels and closes the door behind you.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie says. “I forgot to swing by yesterday, but what’s the big deal? Why can’t you just find something else to wear?”

“That’s not the point, Eddie,” you say with a sigh. “I asked you specifically to pick this dress up for me and you didn’t.”

“Babe, it wasn’t intentional, I forgot.” He walks over and sits on the foot of the bed.

“How does that make it any better?” you ask, voice rising. “When you ask me to do something, I do it. How am I supposed to feel when you forget about me?”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie says with a harsh bark of laughter. “I didn’t forget about you. I forgot to stop at the dry cleaners. While I was out running a million other different errands.”

“A million?” you snap. “You went to the grocery store and the bank! And the dry cleaners is next to the supermarket!”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie huffs, pushing himself off the bed. He stomps over to the closet and yanks it open. He dramatically gestures to all the other dresses you have hanging in there. “Are none of these suitable for you, Your Highness? In my humble opinion, any of these would be fine. Unless you think someone is going to show up to the church in a ball gown.”

“Maybe I won’t go at all then,” you harrumph, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. It’s childish and petty, but you’re too annoyed to care.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’ll make sure to tell Theo that you missed his first communion because you had a wardrobe emergency.” He pronounces the last two words in a nasal, high-pitched tone.

“Go right ahead and—” you start to retort, but you’re cut off by the sound of mumbling outside the door.

“—get divorced?” You hear Luke’s tiny voice, laced with worry.

“They have to be married to get divorced,” Ryan’s telling him. “They’re just gonna break up.”

“Shit,” Eddie breathes out, raking his fingers through his hair. “Didn’t know they were listening.” He opens the door and gives them a sheepish look. “Guys? You okay?”

“Please don’t break up!” Luke cries out, flinging himself into his dad’s legs. When he pulls back, you can see that his eyes are misty with the prospect of tears.

Ryan, as usual, is a bit more reserved than his brother, but you can tell that he’s nervous, too. His silence speaks volumes as he looks at you through his long lashes.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie murmurs, crouching down so he’s closer to their level. “No one’s breaking up, okay?”

“Then why were you fighting?” Luke asks, wiping at his cheeks. “You and Mom used to fight an’ then you got divorced.”

You sit on the ground, tucking your legs under you. “Sometimes, grown-ups fight. Even when they love each other. But it doesn’t mean they’ll break up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “And we love each other very, very much. Almost as much as we love you two little eavesdroppers.” This elicits a giggle from Luke and a smile from Ryan.

“How do you know if it’s a ‘love’ fight or a ‘break up’ fight?” the older boy pipes up.

“Well, when you love someone, you can get frustrated with them or upset with them,” you explain, “but you take time to cool off so you can talk it out calmly later. That’s the difference; with a break up fight, you don’t wanna work it out.”

“Do you wanna work it out?” Ryan asks softly.

You nod. “Of course. We’re not going to break up over a silly mistake.” You watch as he visibly relaxes, and you turn towards Eddie. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. And I didn’t have to be so dramatic about the whole thing, either.” You’re cringing internally just thinking about your empty threat not to go to the communion.

“I’m sorry, too.” He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I said I would do you a favor and I didn’t do it. I’d be mad, too.” He offers you a small smile. “Can we kiss and make up?”

“Eww!” Luke scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue. “Daddy, you’re gonna get cooties!”

Eddie laughs, ruffling his son’s hair. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I got my cooties shot.” He leans in and kisses you with an exaggerated mwah! “Oh, no!” he says suddenly, shaking all of his limbs as though they’re moving uncontrollably. “The shot must’ve worn off. I’ve…I’ve been cootified!”

Ryan and Luke run away from him as he makes grabby hands, chasing them around the apartment. When the boys run by you, you block their path and hold them captive. “I’ve got ‘em!” you proudly announce. “I’ve kidnapped the fresh meat, King Cootie.”

Eddie bows in front of you, where his sons are wriggling in your grasp. “Excellent teamwork, my Queen.” He reaches out and tickles them until they’re complaining that they can’t breathe.

“Okay, Cootie Family; let’s get ready,” he says. “Boys, nice clothes, please. Ryan, please make sure your brother isn’t wearing anything with a cartoon on it.”

Everyone goes to their rooms to get dressed, and Eddie sneaks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. “Seeing as you’ve already infected me with your cooties, can I have another kiss?” he mumbles into your ear.

“I think that can be arranged, you nasty cootie monster,” you tease.

“That’s King Cootie Monster to you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #Eddie Munson fic #AYW #AYWS #request

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 5 days

Text

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfiction #twst fic #twst fanfic #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #rexii writes twst #rexii writes

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

Hehehehe… Okay, you said it would be cool to send in another request, and after the Jesse fic which was absolutely fluffy and squeal worthy, I’m sending in another.

White Tulip and Yellow Orchid

You break up with Fox, and it’s taking a toll on the both of you. It was hard enough when you found out Fox cheated, but somehow it’s even harder not being around each other in a relationship.

I don’t know something along those lines; maybe realizing they are better suited as friends with th hope for more or maybe Fox realizing you deserve better… I’m just spitballing. Anyhew … love oo

Regrets

Summary: You break up with Fox, and both of you are suffering for it.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1724

Prompts: White tulip - new beginnings, Yellow Orchid - Forgiveness

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, I ended up having to change some things from your request to make it something that I'm able to write. Turns out cheating is an unforgivable hardline for me, which is good to know about myself. So I ended up completely dumping that plot idea for something else. I hope you don't mind.

You don’t look up when the chair across from you slides away from the table. You already have a good idea of who’s going to be sitting there.

“Are you here to yell at me too, Commander?” You ask as you pour some more sugar into your caf, take a sip, grimace, and then add even more sugar. It already tastes like caf flavored sugar, but you need the extra energy. Even if it’s cheap energy.

“Buy me a Caf,” Commander Wolffe says, his dark eyes serious as he looks at you, “And something to eat. We need to talk.”

You lift your gaze and scowl at him, but you pull out your credit chit and set it in his hand, “Order what you like, I suppose.”

Wolffe nods and heads to the counter, only to return several minutes later with a large caf and a breakfast sandwich. He hands you your credit chit back as he takes a seat.

You shift and rest your chin on the palm of your hands, “Alright. Lay it on me.”

Wolffe arches a brow, “You expecting something from me?”

“Thorn, Thire, and Stone have already come to yell at me, and they’re not Fox’s twin. You are. So,” you gesture vaguely, “Go ahead. Start yelling.”

“I’m not going to yell at you, sen’ika.” Wolffe says quietly.

“Well, that’s a first.” You mutter.

“I don’t kick people when they’re down.” He continues, his sharp eyes lingering on the dark circles under your eyes, and the sheer amount of sugar you’re adding to your caf. “That’s going to taste awful.”

“Meh.”

“Sen’ika,” He says slowly, quietly, “You’re clearly miserable-”

“I’m fine.” You interrupt.

“You’re not.” There’s a firmness in his voice that stops you from arguing back. “When was the last time you went home?”

“Last night.”

“And slept more than an hour or two?” He asks with a pointed look.

You look away from him, “It’s…not important.”

“Sen’ika,” His voice is so gentle, “Why did you break up with Fox?”

Your hands fold into fists, “Maybe I was cheating on him. Maybe I wasn’t happy.”

“You might be able to pull the shit with other people,” Wolffe says quietly, “But I saw how happy you and Fox were together. And I know you would never cheat on him. So try again.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I…I refuse to be another burden on him.” You admit quietly.

“Elaborate.”

“You don’t see him after work, Wolffe. He’s so tired. All of the time and some of the bruises and scars…” You trail off, “He was happy with me, yes, but having to hide me from everyone? For my own protection? It was wearing him down. And I can’t, won’t, do that to him.”

“He’s miserable.”

“I know.”

“You’re miserable.”

“I know.”

Wolffe is quiet for a moment, “Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

“I will not let him kill himself for me.” You say quietly, “And if that means that I’m on the shitlist for every single member of the guard…then so be it.”

Wolffe doesn’t say anything for a long time, and then he sighs, “I’ll talk to the guard. Tell them to lay off.” He stands and drops a light kiss to the top of your head, “Fox loves you,” He says quietly, “He’s never going to stop loving you. You should at least give him a choice.”

“He’d pick-”

“You. Always you. And we both know it.” He pulls away, “Just think about it, alright? Thanks for the food.” And then Wolffe is gone.

You cast your gaze back to your caf, sigh, and add some more sugar.

Even if you want to talk to Fox, it’ll never happen. Thorn made that plenty clear the other day. And then Thire made it clear later when he came to yell at you on your way home.

You sigh at your caf, and then you pick it up and down half of it, before you make a face.

Gross.

About a week later, you’re at home, trying to clean up the mess that your house has turned into since you haven’t had energy, or frankly, the will to keep up with it.

According to everything you’ve ever read in your life, time is supposed to heal all wounds, but you’re starting to wonder if that was just something that people said to give themselves hope.

Because you aren’t healing.

In fact, you feel worse than ever.

Bad enough that you’re starting to wonder if you’re actually sick, because a broken heart (a self-inflicted broken heart even) shouldn’t hurt this much, right?

You’re so involved in your cleaning that you don’t hear the knock on the door at first. It’s not until the doorbell rings, startling you bad enough that your vacuum falls from your hands, that you realize you have company.

You look at the mess that is your home and sigh. Maybe they won’t want to come inside?

Carefully, because you had the genius idea of dumping everything you own in the middle of the living room so you can organize it properly, you step over the piles of stuff to get to the door.

You press the door control to open the door, “Yes? Can I hel-” You stop mid-sentence when you see who’s standing there. “...Fox. Um…I mean, Commander.”

He looks…pissed.

“Let me in.” He bites out.

“We’re not dating anymore, Commander. You can’t order your way into my home.” You offer as you avert your gaze from his face. More than just angry, he looks tired. About as tired as you feel, really.

You hear him exhale sharply, “You’re wearing my shirt, cyare.” Even his voice is tight with anger, “Let me in.”

You glance down at the shirt, his shirt, that you are wearing, and you silently move to the side. “...sorry about the mess.”

“What mes-” He stops as soon as he steps into your apartment, and his jaw drops, “Holy kriff, did a bomb go off in your living room?”

You fold your arms, “I’m deep cleaning.”

“By making a bigger mess?”

“I have a system.”

“Is it working?”

You scowl at him, “I’ll let you know.”

He glances at you, and his lips twitch up into a small smile, before he looks away, as if suddenly remembering that he’s supposed to be angry at you. You avert your eyes as well, it’s easy, far too easy, to fall back into easy bantering with Fox.

You broke up with him.

You told him that you weren’t happy anymore.

You have no right to his time or his smiles.

“I had a chat with Wolffe.”

Oh.

“He told me something interesting.”

Kriff. You should have sworn Wolffe to secrecy.

“You broke up with me because you wanted to protect me?” There’s a strange mix of emotions in his voice. Anger, yes. There’s a lot of anger. But there’s also hurt, and something you recognize as affection.

“Wolffe is a kriffing snitch,” You mutter.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to confide in my twin,” Fox points out, “And then he wouldn’t have snitched on you.”

You purse your lips, “See if I ever buy him breakfast again.”

“He came to stop the Guard from harassing you,” Fox says, “I didn’t know that they were harassing you.”

“It’s…fine. I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”

You sigh and turn your gaze to him, “Why are you here, Fox?”

“Because I love you.”

“That’s-”

He presses a finger against your lips, “Stop and listen.” Fox waits a moment, and as soon as he realizes that you’re going to do as he asks, he adjusts his hand so that his thumb is brushing against your lips. “I love you and I’m not going to give up on us simply because you think you’re a burden.”

“I am a burden. I saw how exhausted you were-”

“I’m more exhausted now.” Fox counters sharply. “Because I’m still trying to keep you safe, only now I have to do it in secret!”

“I never asked-” You start.

“You never had to. It’s what you do when you love something.”

“Fox-”

“I know you think that you’re a burden to me. And I know I’m so tired all of the time, and I know you worry about me all of the time.” Fox says, “But I love you. And you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. Only I get to choose that, and you’re what’s best for me.”

“Fox-,” You repeat his name, feeling tears pricking your eyes.

“I’m happier when I’m with you. You give me a reason to want to wake up in the morning.”

“I hurt you.”

“And I forgive you.”

“Just like that? You were so angry-”

“Of course I was! You broke up with me after deciding what was best for me! I’m pissed about it!” Fox bites out, “But I still love you and I’m willing to accept the fact that you did this because you were worried about me.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Fox repeats, he searches your face, and apparently finds what he’s looking for there, “Cyare, do you still love me?”

“...of course I do.”

“Be my girlfriend again?” Fox asks, “Please. We can start over if you really think we have to. I just…let me be a part of your life. I need you in my life.”

You sigh, softly. How could you say no to that? To him?

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

“Oh thank kriff,” Fox blurts as he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, “Can we take a kriffing nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

You glance at the pile of stuff on the floor of the living room, and then turn your guilty gaze on Fox, “I think my comforter is in the mess.”

Fox glances at the pile of stuff, and then shakes his head, “No matter.” He carefully scoops you into his arms and steps over the stuff, before he heads into the bedroom and drops you on the bed, before he curls up against you, “Sleep first, everything else later.”

You tuck your head against his chest, and he folds himself around you. And you’re both asleep in a matter of moments.

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes follower celebration #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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badsongpetey · 3 months

Text

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Keith is smirking at him, so Lance clears his throat and tries again. “I came back, yes.”

Keith cocks his head slightly. “Why?”

“Wha… Why?! Seriously?!”

Keith furrows his brow and folds his arms over his chest, looking serious, and adorable, shut UP brain. “Nobody ever comes back. Why did you?”

Lance sputters out a disbelieving laugh, “Because…” he gestures aggressively at all of Keith.

Keith’s frown deepens as he looks around himself trying to see what Lance is indicating. Ok, I’ve got myself a beautiful idiot, I’ve worked with less Lance muses.

“YOU!!” Lance yells loud enough that Keith startles and some birds fly out of the trees above them. “Um, ah, I came back because of you… I guess.”

“You… weren’t scared?” Keith asks.

“Of you? Oh you betcha. You were terrifying.” Lance affirms.

At this news Keith stands a bit taller, puffing out his chest. “I protect my water from all intruders.”

“Your water?” Lance jerks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the waterfall.

Keith nods. “I protect it and all life that lives near its flow, and in turn it sustains me.”

Lance isn’t 100% sure what that means, but he’s about 78%, so he nods slowly back. “And me and Hunk… I just barged on in. I… I’m sorry.”

Keith squints at Lance as if trying to parse out his meaning, then looks away. “Okay.”

Lance resists the urge to prompt the cryptid on how to graciously accept an apology, the guy clearly doesn’t get out much. “You didn’t hurt me, us, though.”

Keith cocks his head at this.

“You said you protect this waterfall, but you didn’t try to hurt me.” Lance elaborates.

Keith snorts. “You weren’t a threat.” He deadpans.

Lance huffs, offended. “I’ll have you know that I am MORE than capable of being a threat.” Keith snorts again. “I just have manners.” Lance sniffs.

“Which is why you threw yourself into MY waterfall.” Keith retorts.

“Well, that’s… I… I mean, it’s not like there were any “no trespassing” signs or anything! Like who the hell would think that there’s a…” he gestures emphatically at Keith again, “a… a… YOU in there!! What are you anyways?” Okay, that last question was a bit blunt, but he’s flustered and this Keith is growing more annoying than frightening by the second.

“I’m a Water Dragon.” Keith’s response interrupts Lance’s internal monologue.

“You’re a dragon?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re furry.”

“Yes.”

“But dragons aren’t furry! They’re scaly, and have horns and wings and live in caves filled with treasure!” Lance waves in hands in a “clearly I’m a sane person” sort of fashion.

Keith scoffs, “Please, tell me more about dragons.”

Maybe it’s Keith’s disdainful expression, or maybe it’s because his idiot brain finally reminds him that he’s not talking to some dude in the woods, and is actually having a conversation with a cryptid, and doesn’t actually have the authority to tell Keith what he is or is not, but Lance decides arguing with the “dragon” probably isn’t his best move.

“Sorry.” Lance mutters, then sighs. “You’re just not like any dragons I’ve read about.”

“Clearly.”

“Hey! I said I was sorry, okay?” Lance snaps.

Keith glowers at him, mouth fixed in a hard line. Lance winces, no matter how irritating Keith is, and he definitely is, if Lance doesn’t watch it, he WILL get eaten.

They stand facing each other in silence, neither willing to give in, until Lance can’t stand it anymore.

“Well, sorry for intruding.” He grabs his backpack and turns to leave, “I’ll just get out of here now.”

Lance gets about five steps before…

“Are you coming back?”

He turns to see Keith glaring fiercely at the ground and clenching his fists.

“I promise I won’t. And I won’t tell anyone else. You don’t have to worry.” Lance assures with more bitterness than he intended.

Keith’s expression darkens and Lance turns to go.

“I WANT YOU TO COME BACK!”

Lance stops and spins on his heel. “What??”

Keith is making possibly the most frustrated face Lance has ever seen another being make, and slowly, PAINFULLY, repeats himself. “I want you to come back.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to blink mutely.

“Never mind.” Keith huffs angrily, “I don’t know…”

“I’ll come back.”

Keith’s head snaps up so fast he has to have pulled something.

“I’ll come back.” Lance isn’t sure what he’s doing, but he knows himself well enough to know that he can’t walk away from this. If nothing else, he’ll have some unbeatable bragging rights.

Keith’s back to finding the ground completely fascinating as he mutters a barely audible, “okay.”

“Okay.” Lance agrees only briefly considering the vast multitude of ways he might be crazy.

-------

I realized that this got a bit longer than I intended and posted it all on A03. Also there wasn't anything interesting to draw from this part, so the art is from part 6 :)

#klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #voltron #vld #water guardian au #klance au #dragon keith #fanfiction

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selfindulgentpixies · 9 months

Text

Being seen

Satoru Gojo x Gn!reader

Reader who has been Gojo's friend since they were in highschool and maybe a little maybe a lot pining for him for years gets interviewed about him. wc:1161

___

When you were approached by someone on your way out of the school for an impromptu interview you weren’t particularly pleased about it. They assured you it would be quick, they were just asking people a couple questions for posterity blah blah blah. You sighed and accepted it despite being tired and just wanting to go home.

So you’d gone and sat on one of your favorite benches under a big red japanese maple tree, crossed your legs and folded your hands over your knee before giving them the nod to go ahead.

“So who is Gojo Satoru to you?”

You give them an incredulous look.

“Ah sorry we’re asking quite a few people about him could you please-”

You sigh and glance up toward the vibrant leaves above your head. Memories so many memories about the man who’d you’d known since you were practically children. When you glance back your would-be interviewer gives you a look that’s both encouraging and pleading. It wasn’t exactly unknown how much time you spent around Gojo.

“Gojo is… a very good friend and a man who probably cares too much for others.” A small warm smile curls your lips, locking thousands more words within you.

The interviewer looks… surprised. “Could you elaborate.”

You debate how much to say giving a small tilt of your head. “Well… He’s the person I know I can always rely on, if there’s one person I know I can go to when I need to smile when things have been rough I know I can go to him. I know to most he comes across as eccentric and arrogant, and yes those aren’t exactly untrue things about him but he’s also someone who gives his everything for those around him. I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone who looks out more for those around them than he does.” You won’t realize it later until you see the video but as you speak about Gojo your expression is impossibly fond.

The interviewer motions to you as if they want you to say more and you give them a confused look.

“Is there anything else? Most people seem to have something particular they agree on about him.”

You stare at the interviewer, at first in puzzlement and then in annoyance as you realize what they’re trying to get you to say. “If others have said it, why do I need to? I don’t care about that. He’s a very dear friend to me and I think I’ve said enough for this interview.” You stand up, brushing off your work pants, and after you sling your work bag over your shoulder you begin to walk away, ignoring the interviewer trying to call you back.

Neither you or the interviewer noticed that the whole process had been observed from start to finish by the man in question.

—

You’re surprised the next day when Gojo wraps his arms around your shoulders from behind , resting his head on top of your own. You give a little jerk though you quickly realize it’s him. “Gojo! You know I startle easy don’t sneak up on me like that,” You give a small huff but there’s no heat behind it.

He hums, seemingly in thought. You flush a bit when he makes no move to let go of you. He’s always been one to disregard personal space with you but you couldn't deny the way that even after years of knowing him it still made your heart race, especially when he did it so openly. The second years could arrive at the training field anytime now.

“Gojo-”

“You gave me a lot to think about yesterday you know..”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You furrow your brow and reach up to untangle his arms from you so you can turn to look up at him. You’re almost startled to see his blindfold is pulled down around his neck as he’s studying you. Or it feels that way when you’re caught directly in his bright gaze.

“I was passing by when you were being interviewed.”

You huff, not yet catching what he’s getting at. “They were annoying, I don’t think they were interested in the answers I gave.”

“They might not have been but I was.” He smiles at you and his usual mischievousness is missing. “Did you mean what you said, is that how you see me?” His voice is smaller when he asks this part, almost as if he’s not sure he wants to.

“Of course,” without hesitation and then a bit more shyly, “of course I meant everything I said.” You glance away from him.

Gojo releases a breath, like he hadn’t been expecting your earnest answer. Did he maybe expect you to dance around what you’d said? “You’re really something you know that?” His hand cups your cheek and turns your face back toward him.

You swallow. “Normally when people have said that to me it’s meant in a negative way you know.”

He shakes his head, fluffy white hair bouncing with each turn of his head. “It was nice to hear… I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone talk about me like that before.”

You want to make some sort of quip, cover up the shyness bubbling up inside you but something about this feels fragile, feels important. “Yeah, well.. I can say it again if you’d like… I actually have a lot more to say.” Your heart is hammering in your chest almost like it wants to escape, and maybe it does along with the words you’d been hanging onto since you were sixteen and you sat up all night playing videos games with a boy who’d burrowed his way between your ribs before you could do anything about it.

There’s a look of wonder to Gojo now and a grin with no edge takes over his face, dimples softly imdenting his cheeks. “I’d like that. I could say a few things to you too.”

“Yeah?” You ask and reach up to the hand cradling your cheek. Your smaller hand can’t possibly cover his but it’s enough. Enough to hold his hand there so you can do what will either be one of your best choices or most embarrassing as you turn into his palm so you can kiss it, and as you shyly look up at him through your lashes, lips still pressed to his palm, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Gojo blush like this before, his mouth falling into a little ‘o’ before he’s leaning down, pulling you in and-

Someone clears their throat loudly while someone else whistles. Mortified, you look over and see not only the second years but the first years as well. Not much in the way of training actually gets done and eventually you call off the lesson after one too many sly looks and hushed comments.

When Gojo slides back into your space after the disaster of a lesson and asks you out to dinner you of course say yes.

___

@strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @4sat0ruu @biscuitsngravie @gojoest

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gn!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #satoru gojo x gn!reader #rossi writes

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