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delusionsofgrandeur13 · 25 days

Text

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

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roosterr · 10 months

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white flag ✹ interlude

note: this chapter is a lil shorter than usual, I just wanted to include a lil bonding moment for reader and ghost before the events of next chapter :)

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you and ghost go people watching in the local park, plus a little heart to heart

warnings: just some much needed fluff :)

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

one warm shower and a couple of ibuprofen later, you're feeling mostly human again with a manageable headache and a reasonable amount of regret for how pathetic you’d acted. with time you’d get over that, especially now that ghost had finally seen the light and started treating you with some decency. admittedly though, his change in attitude threw you off earlier; you were bracing for a stern lecture and he essentially brushed it off as though it didn't matter, but you’ve decided not to dwell on that fact.

small victories, as they say.

for the very first time, the pair of you were both sitting across from each other at the tiny kitchen table, in your own worlds; the radio was faintly playing some classic rock station in the background as ghost had his nose in his book and you played some mindless game on your phone. you’d honestly prefer to be reading a good book too, but your collection was currently ash in the wind, so this would have to do.

you're tempted to try starting a conversation, the quiet was giving you far too much room to think, but on the other hand the atmosphere is so peaceful it would be a shame to ruin it.

so you set your phone down on the table and turn your eyes to ghost, watching him scan the pages, his head tilted slightly in concentration. he's washed most of the paint from around his eyes – that was probably done yesterday, not that you noticed – so only a few smudges mark his skin. with the black paint gone, you notice the raised bumps of old scars around his eyes, something you'd never paid much attention to before. you know better than to ask, but you do wonder, in the back of your mind, the stories behind all of them. examining them gives you inexplicable urge to run your fingers over them, to soothe the ache having so many of them must cause.

his dark eyes are like black holes, drawing in your attention and refusing to let you escape their grasp. you're vaguely aware of how long you've been staring at his face, but you don't care to snap yourself out of it until he speaks up.

"what?" he grumbles, not bothering to look up from the page. you quickly look away, down to where your hands idly fiddle with your phone on the table.

"question."

"hm?" he hums in acknowledgement, but still doesn't look at you. normally you'd give up at this point, assuming he was completely uninterested in what you had to say, but this time you decide to push your luck.

"you fancy a walk to the park?"

finally, he meets your eyes, looking up through his light eyelashes and blinking once as he contemplates his answer. you resist the urge to break eye contact as he stares right through you.

"...alright." he says, wedging his bookmark between the pages and sets the book down on the table.

you weren't expecting him to say yes, but you're pleasantly surprised that he did; it felt slightly surreal that after all this time, you were finally becoming friends with ghost. your eyes follow him as he stands, leaving the room to, presumably, change his mask while you sit there with a bewildered look on your face.

a minute or so passes before you hear his voice again. "you comin'?" he calls from the entryway, bringing you back to the present.

"oh– yeah, one second!" you jump up from your chair and rush to get ready as well. the grin you wore as you rushed past him to fetch your jacket was unconscious, the feeling lighting up your features and overshadowing and lingering thoughts from the night before.

a few moments later you're tugging your boots on and you're both walking out the door together, side by side. for once it's actually a nice day, so the short walk to the park is a pleasant one under the blue sky and warm sunlight.

"sorry again, for last night. i think that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life." you look over to ghost with an apologetic expression, and you can't help but feel that the expression he gives back is one of amusement despite not being able to see half his face.

"that's twice you've screamed at me now." he says, keeping pace with you for a change rather than marching ahead as he usually does.

"i didn't scream at you!" you attempt to defend yourself, but thinking back on it you change your mind. "alright, the second time maybe i did,"

"maybe."

"but the first time, i was very collected." you continue. "it was quite satisfying, to be honest."

"i suppose i deserved it." his gaze falls to the ground and, even though he's right – he did deserve it – you do feel a little bad.

"seriously, though," you continue, "thank you, for looking after me last night. you didn't have to, and i know you didn't want to, but i really appreciate it."

"anyone would'a done the same…" he mutters, bringing a hand up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. you get the feeling he's not used to people showing their appreciation for him, which only encourages you to carry on.

"and thanks for taking me in, i know having some random idiot in your house is the last thing you want." you give him a warm smile as he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

"well, you're not just any idiot, are you?" he says, earning a questioning tilt of your head. "you're sting. the idiot."

a genuine laugh escapes you, the first one in a long time, and you gently nudge ghost's arm with your elbow.

"oh, lovely, thanks mate." you chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. you see his eyes lift in a barely noticeable smile, the sight causing a warm feeling to bloom in your chest.

you arrive at the park fairly quickly, finding yourselves an out of the way bench to occupy under the partial shade of a nearby oak tree. you're enveloped by a comfortable silence as you both simply observe the beauty of nature and bask in the feeling of the sun on your face.

you're not sure how long the two of you sit there in each other's company, but you find yourself subconsciously drifting closer to him, close enough that your knees just about touch. you're sure he notices – there isn't much that gets by him – but he doesn't show it.

"did you hear they figured out how the fire started?" you keep your voice low to preserve the peaceful quiet, turning your head to look at him as you ask.

"oh yeah? how?"

"ugh…" you groan with the annoyance the memory bring up. "my stupid neighbour left a fucking candle burning all night, the twat."

"what a fuckin' idiot…" he glances briefly in your direction, a sympathetic frown on his face.

"i can never look at candles the same way again, they're tainted now." you drag a hand over your face and shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

there's another pause in the conversation as you stare ahead, watching the trees sway in the breeze and all the people going about their lives, everything cast in a golden glow from sun.

you don't want it to end, the way the two of you are now. this is the most you've ever spoken to echother, outside of arguments, and you really want to make the most of it.

"nice weather today, right?" you try to keep him talking to you, and you're considering the fact that he hasn't told you to shut up yet as a good sign.

"hm." ghost hums and leans his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. "you gonna ask me what my favourite colour is again?"

"c'mon, throw me a bone here." you turn your body to face him more. "actually what is it, though?"

"...green."

"i knew it!" you exclaim, a triumphant grin pulling at your lips. "it makes sense, you just have 'dark green' vibes."

"i'll take your word for it."

it's difficult to know what to talk about with him, seeing as you've never actually been friendly before and you've already used the only small talk question you could think of.

"hmm…" your eyes roam over the park, looking for something to give you an idea. eventually you land on a scrappy little white dog, with possibly the worst haircut you've ever seen. "look at that woman's dog," you point it out to ghost, snickering at the way it was resisting its owner as she pulled it along. "i feel bad for the little guy."

"is that a dog? thought it was an oversized rat."

"oh my god!" you snort a laugh, covering your mouth with a hand and throwing your head back. you hear ghost chuckle lightly beside you, and when you turn your head to look back at him you find him already looking at you.

all other thoughts leave your mind when you see how his eyes glow a golden colour in the light of the sun. you feel the tips of your ears heating up and quickly face forward again before he has a chance to notice.

luckily another distraction presents itself almost immediately, in the form of a well-dressed office worker sprinting past you at full speed.

"wow," you mutter, your eyes following him as he disappears around a bend in the path, "he's not hangin' about."

"maybe he left a candle burnin'." ghost looks back to you, a playful glint in his eyes you're not sure you've ever seen on him.

you can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his terrible joke. "aw, ghost," you groan, gently shoving him as he chuckles at your reaction, "you're wrong for that one."

ghost slouches into the bench as you both look back out across the park, shifting so his thigh presses against yours ever so slightly. you're careful not to react, afraid that he'd pull away if you draw attention to the gesture, and resolve to just enjoy the rare closeness of his presence.

eventually you'd have to head back, but for now you were more than content to sit here and watch the world go by with him.

taglist: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev , @clear-your-mind-and-dream , @thrivig-n-jiving , @lesterous , @glitterypirateduck , @slu77ym4nw415ts , @livelaugh-light , @trulylavendedarling

if your name is crossed out, it means i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

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seratopia · 11 months

Text

hobie brown x reader (fluff) - eyeliner → she/her pronouns!

hobie loves asking you to do eye makeup for him

"Sweets! C'mere for a sec!"

Your ears perk up when you hear Hobie from the other room, amidst slathering on a moisturizer onto your face.

"Hold on! I'm doing skincare!" You exclaim, hoping he heard you.

"C'mon already!" Hobie yells, and you fight every urge to roll your eyes as you rub in the last bit of your face lotion.

"Okay, okay!"

Hobie smirks when you dip into his bedroom, reaching out his hands to beckon you closer. The fluffy lounge set you're in makes him want to handle you more, his fingers subconsciously drawing in towards you.

You stick out like a sore thumb against the different shades of black in his room, studded belts and punk magazines scattered on the ground. Lazily, he's seated on the edge of his bed, his worn-out guitar sprawled across his charcoal-black sheets.

Those silver-ringed hands slip onto the curves of your waist, snaking their way up your back to tug you closer to him. You almost shiver at the feeling of so much metal. Cockily, he stares at your face, cheekily dragging you so that his face his a hair close to your chest.

"What is it, Hobie?" You ask, smoothing your fingers through his kinky hair. Hobie likes it when you trace your thumb over all of his piercings.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Hobie pulls out an eyeliner pen, flipping it smoothly through his fingers. Hobie chuckles a little, squeezing at the fat of your sides. There's a glint in his eye; excitement.

"Y'always talk about puttin' makeup on me, so I'm givin' you a try."

Hobie's smirk widens when he sees you light up in excitement, allowing you to slip the eyeliner pen from his fingers.

"Right now?" You ask, and Hobie squeezes you. He nods, shoving his face right up at you to emphasize.

"Do an edgy look for me, yeah? Don't be afraid t'smudge it a li'l."

So, while Hobie sits at the edge of his bed, he indulgently allows himself to wrap his arms around you, tilting his head upwards so you can paint on the makeup properly. You're parked right in the gap between his legs, closing in the little distance you have with Hobie to perfect the look.

While you stand there, bracing Hobie's face with one hand, he just takes it upon himself to stare at your concentrated expression. He hates to admit but he loves the close proximity.

"Hobie, you gotta close your eyes for me to do it."

The boy shuts his eyes closed, flinching just the tiniest bit when the tip of the pen first meets his skin. You build up a fine line at the outer corner of his eyelid, making it an effort to upturn the wing just the slightest bit.

For the last part, you draw a somewhat messy line underneath his lower lash line, smearing black onto only the outer side. Taking your finger, you smudge the black while its still wet, blurring out the line until whats left under his eye looks like black shadow.

Hobie resists every urge to open his eyes, every nerve screaming at him to keep them shut. For now, he makes due with what he can, squishing a little too close to your butt, or running his thumbs over where your rib cage is.

"I finished the first eye, wanna see?" You ask.

He opens his eyes back up, relishing the sigh of you until he has to close them again. You step away elsewhere to search for a good-sized mirror, and Hobie reluctantly lets go.

You come back with a hand mirror, and Hobie feels his eye itch just a little, probably from the eyeliner. You hand him the mirror, and it makes you a little nervous. At the end of the day, you just want him to like it.

You watch as Hobie examines the first eye, tilting his face from side to side with a smile forming on his mouth.

"Wow, y'did a nice job. I like the smudging right 'ere." Hobie explains, pointing his finger up to his under eye.

You smile, taking the mirror from his hand so you could continue the other eye.

"Y'know... I think I might ask'ya to do this more often." Hobie says, mindlessly tapping his fingers against your back. The way you handle his face almost makes him melt.

"You're good at makeup."

You chuckle a little, swiping the pen away to press a gentle kiss to Hobie's forehead. The way he smiles is so cute, how you can feel his cheeks warm under your fingertips.

"If you wanted to be with me, you could'a just asked, Hobie." You giggle, gently poking the corner of his other eyelid with the pen.

"I'm serious!" Hobie laughs, his eyes still closed. "I look like Cooper, y'know who Cooper is?"

"The guy that gave you a spare guitar string?" You ask.

"Yeah, he's a good man, had this really wicked eyeliner on."

With a final swoop of your wrist you finish his other eye, your vision ping-ponging between the two wings to make sure they're symmetrical.

"Done!" And you hand Hobie the mirror again, intently watching his expressions. Again, he tilts his head from side to side, an impressed smile on his face. It looks really good on him, perfect for one of his shows.

"Wow, sweets, this is really sick. Bet I'd give Cooper a run for his money, yeah?" Hobie says, standing up from his bed. You giggle into his chest when he pulls you in, repaying you for the earlier kiss with one on the crown of your head.

"You think so?" You ask, and Hobie nods.

"Get dressed and I can take us to The Crown, bet Cooper's there havin' a drink or two." He cockily states, making you playfully roll your eyes. You're expecting him to show up Cooper, pridefully pointing to his eyes to say, "Yeah, my girl did that."

"I'd like that." You say, untangling yourself from Hobie to search for something on the floor to wear. You leave some of your clothes in his room anyway. He lets go of you, watching you skim through his wardrobe.

"How 'bout that l'il dress, the short one you always like? We can match." Hobie suggests, placing his hands underneath his head and leaning back into his bed.

"It's all the way over at my flat." You reply, and Hobie springs back up, already pulling his spider mask out of his worn-out vest pocket.

"I can go get it, if you want."

"I think you want it more than I do, Hobie." You shrug, Hobie already a third of his way out the window.

"Be back in a sec!"

#hobie brown #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #reader insert #xreader #x reader #fluff #romance #hate the am #hate the pm #hate labels #seratopia writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 6 months

Text

A flock of elephants

Written for the November warm-up round of the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Prompt: Bakery AU

Rated: T

CW: some sexual tension and innuendo

Tags: Baker Steve, Rockstar Eddie

Notes: Can be read as a continuation of this microfic

“You don't understand how huge a deal this is, Steve,” Dustin says. He’s wiggling in the passenger seat, trying to take in every bit of their surroundings as they pull up to the concert hall.

Steve huffs and squints at the signs. There's security and fans and staff everywhere and he can feel a headache coming up.

"A guy asked me to bake a cake, so what? It's literally what I do for a living, nothing-"

"A guy asked you to-" Dustin sputters. "Excuse me, what did you say? Eddie Munson commissioned you to bake a replica of his world famous Warlock, do you have any- Do you even know who Eddie Munson is?"

"Of course I know," Steve grouses. "I don't live under a rock."

"Oh yeah?" Dustin levels him with an unimpressed look. "Name one of his songs."

"Please," Steve rolls his eyes. "You're blasting that shit on repeat, it's practically seared into my brain. Especially the one about the elephants."

Dustin stares at him. Steve resists the urge to pinch his nose.

"You know the one! What was it? Flock of Elephants?"

Dustin crumples into the car seat and slaps both palms to his forehead. "It's A Court of Sycophants, Steve! Oh my God!"

"Synchro-what?" Steve ignores the way his neck prickles and takes a sharp right. "You just made that up. Now help me look for the delivery entrance or we won't have ourselves a deal at all."

Once they find the entrance, it turns out he forgot the ID badge that the label sent, because of fucking course he did. He spends about half an hour trying to convince the grumpy security guard to let them in while Dustin has a complete meltdown. Just as he's ready to give up, they're rescued by the appearance of a tiny blonde in a pink cardigan who cheerfully introduces herself as Eddie’s manager.

"Sorry about Hop," she says for what must be the fourth time, while Steve sets up the guitar-shaped cake at the center of the buffet and Dustin inspects the backstage lounge with awestruck eyes. "He takes his job very seriously."

"Yeah, I noticed," Steve mutters. She seems nice enough, but he really doesn’t wanna engage in smalltalk right now. The bustle of the stage hands and the hot air of the venue are making him squeamish. All he wants to do is get this over with and go home.

Unfortunately fate must hate him, because that is the exact moment that a familiar voice says, "Hey, Chris. No matter what Hop tells you, I didn't order hookers to the venue. I dunno where he got the-"

Dustin starts squealing.

"Oh my God, you're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie squints at him like a confused cat.

"Last time I checked, yeah. And you are?"

"Dustin," says Dustin, like that explains everything. "I'm with Steve."

Eddie’s eyes flit over and his face breaks into a delighted, dimpled smile.

"Baker boy, hi!"

Steve's mouth goes dry.

He doesn’t know why, but all of the easy confidence of their last meeting is suddenly gone.

Maybe it's because they were in the bakery, on his own turf, and now they're on Eddie’s, where the lights and the noise and the hum of the crowd in the auditorium are grating on his nerves.

Maybe it's because last time, Eddie looked like just some guy in his ripped jeans and ratty hoody, unwashed hair piled in a chaotic bun, and now …

… now he's in a pair of leather pants that are so tight they may as well be spray-painted on and what looks like a fucking harness, hair cascading around his face and shoulders in a halo of messy curls and is that eyeliner?

"Woah," Eddie breathes, eyes growing large, and yup, eyeliner. Definitely eyeliner, Jesus fucking Christ. With two long strides of those impossibly long legs, he's beside Steve and ogling the cake with an awestruck face. "This is fucking incredible, dude, it looks just like the real thing. You did all that from the photos?"

By some miracle, Steve manages to channel the incoming blush into a sly pop of his hips and a smug eyebrow quirk.

"Told you I was the best."

Eddie is looking at him like he didn't bake a cake but hung the moon, which … in combination with the eyeliner and the leather and the harness of it all? Steve squirms in his jeans.

"Okay, erm … if that's all, I'll send over the bill by-"

"Wait, what? You're not staying for the show?" Eddie swivels to Chrissy, all righteous indignation. "Why are they not staying for the show?"

Chrissy shrugs, at the same time that Steve says, "That's really not necessa-"

"We'd love to stay!"

Dustin shoves himself between them, elbowing him in the kidneys. While Steve is still coughing, Eddie turns to Chrissy.

"Show the young man to the backstage area, Chris?"

Dustin looks like he's about to die of happiness, so Steve resigns himself to his fate.

"Will you play the one about the psychopaths?" he asks as they trail after him. "It's his favorite."

"Psycho-" Eddie’s brow wrinkles.

"Sycophants, Steve!" Dustin hollers from ahead. "Jesus!"

"Anyways," Steve says over Eddie’s rumbling laughter. "You really didn't have to-"

"I know I didn't." Eddie accepts his guitar - the real one - from a stage hand and slings it over his shoulder. "But I saw what you're best at, so I figured I'd return the favor."

"Careful there," Steve huffs. "All you've done is ogle my cake. You may wanna try it first."

"Oh, I'm planning to …" Eddie's smile is sharp as he leans in, close to his ear. "Preferably with less people around, though."

And then he's gone, stepping out on the stage, making his guitar wail.

Steve can't quite tell if the roar in his ears is the crowd or the sound of his own blood.

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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hyperactively-me · 9 months

Note

OMG! please more of King Ghost🙏🏻🤤🥵

i gotchu babe.

Being the spare princess of the kingdom never really bothered you much. Really, it was your four older siblings that had much more responsibility than the rest of you. Seventh out of ten in line for the throne? No, you were never destined for the throne of your own kingdom. It’s why you were not all too surprised when your parents informed you that you would be wed to a man in a neighboring kingdom. Although, they never specified which one…

You have been prepared to wed nobility since you were a child. You were trained to act like the perfect, prim and proper princess. Countless hours of teaching you to be the “perfect wife” transformed you into the “perfect” wife, but that never meant you enjoyed a second of it. When you’re a child, you don’t really question everything your parents do. As you grew older, the more you held a certain disdain for the hours of the day dedicated to this training. Day after day, you would learn proper manners, how to sew, play the piano, paint and draw. You were taught the duties of a wife, to care for your husband, to bend to his every whim and wish, to depend on him, and only him. You hated it, loathed it, but it was what you had to do. You had no other choice.

Thankfully, your parents did not neglect your education, although they had some…select pieces of history taken out of your studies. The best tutors in the kingdom were called upon the palace to educate you and your siblings. When you were a child, you were too busy focusing on your teachings and playing to notice the tension in the air, or how you and your family remained unharmed while the kingdom’s village suffered from famine, war, and civil unrest. Your male tutors had deemed some portions of history to be “too violent, too descriptive” for a “young female noble” as yourself. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t know about select parts of history when you were older. You didn’t even realize that you didn’t know all that you thought you did later on…

You knew that you were to be sold off for marriage when you were a teenager. To whom, well, that was a mystery. Until recently.

Ghost. King Ghost. Ruler of the Kingdom of Kastron, slayer of any who dares cross him. A skilled and ruthless killer. A machine on the battlefield, a stoic and cold leader.

. . .

“What do you mean?” you blurted out, incredulous.

“It’s been planned for some time now. You’re his betrothed, whether you like it or not, and that’s final.”

You ball your fists, resisting the urge to scream and cry. Instead, you turn your head up high, your brows furrowed in anger as you shoot a glare at your parents.

“I will never marry a killer.”

“You’ll be thankful, one day.” Your father adds, shuffling his papers that he was oh so focused on.

Anger grasped at your throat. You were breathing hard, couldn’t see straight. You felt you had no other choice than to run. So you did. You ran, down the endless hallways, down the stairs, and out into the gardens. Your heart was caught in your throat, a sob building up in your chest as you slowed to a stop. Crumpling into yourself, you grasp your arms, hugging yourself as you try not to sob loudly. It’s what you were born to do, after all. Be the blushing bride.

Oh, he can come, you thought. But you would do everything in your power to make him run and to never take you as his bride.

. . .

Today was the day King Ghost would arrive at your palace. You hoped he would be discouraged by your attitude, enough to see your blatant disgust and leave. You vowed to yourself to make his life more difficult, minute by minute, before he arrived.

Your maids had dressed you in one of your finest dresses, painted your face with makeup, and styled your hair in a flattering manner. You tug at the sleeve of your dress haphazardly, a frown etched on your face.

You didn’t want to see the bastard standing at your doorstep, high and mighty with the stupid helmet he always wore, according to the rumors you’ve heard.

But, alas, here he was. Standing in front of you. A hunk of pure iron armor. Surprisingly, his armor was simple. It wasn’t adorned with precious jewels or carvings. Just simple, smooth iron. A large silver sword was sheathed at his side, the handle a pure black obsidian adorned with a single diamond on the crest of the handle.

The air was thick with tension as you stared at the foreboding creature in front of you. For a moment, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you know his gaze was piercing right through you. Your heart beat fast in your chest as you moved into a bow at his feet, disgust rising in your throat.

When you stood, you forced yourself to lock eyes with where you think his eyes are. Your gaze is fierce, unwavering as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Your majesty,” you began. “What a delightful pleasure it is to meet you.”

Your words rang hollow, your interest in his presence glazed with venom.

He stands, stiff as ever, before bowing ever so slightly towards you.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says gruffly, taking in your appearance for a moment before turning his attention to your father. A shiver runs up your spine as the cold iron seems to fill the room with a certain degree of hostility.

“Come,” your father beckons towards Ghost, urging him to follow him down the palace hall. “We will begin dinner shortly.”

King Ghost does not bother to acknowledge you as he stands by your father. You turn around, rolling your eyes, beckoned by your mother to follow them. Lovely. Wonderful first impression.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #hyperactively me

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incognit0slut · 8 months

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (14)

She ever thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and the team face a setback in the investigation. wc: 4.6k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: This one is a beast. I don't usually write multiple scenes in one part but it seems fitting here.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

SPENCER HATED DRIVING. The feeling of confinement, the cacophony of honking horns, and the ceaseless traffic had always grated on his nerves. Yet his line of work often required him to be the one behind the wheel, and usually, he didn't mind, but now the car's interior seemed to close in on him as if mocking his discomfort.

He wondered whether his detest for driving paled in comparison to the regret consuming him. Or was this anger? Was this anger coursing through his body that had him feeling more uncomfortable than he usually was?

He could feel his knuckles turn white as he clenched the wheel. The anger burned hot within him, directed both outwardly at the situation he had thrust into and inwardly at himself for allowing it to happen. He couldn't understand how he allowed his urge to consume him, leading to actions that inflicted pain upon her.

It was consensual on my part.

If that was true, then why was there regret gnawing him? Why was he still angry at himself? Spencer always prided on self-control, that he could resist any urges and avoid causing any harm. But tonight he had shattered that belief. He had let his defenses crumble and now he had to deal with being the one who painted those bruises on her skin.

The shrill ring of his phone sliced through the heavy silence inside the car, momentarily diverting his thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID on the dashboard's console, seeing a familiar name flash on the screen. With a hesitant sigh, he pressed the answer button.

"Where the hell have you been?" Garcia's voice filled the space, her frustration was palpable even through the speaker.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and cleared his throat before responding, "I got caught up in something."

She let out a sound of frustration. "You can't just disappear like that, Reid, we've been trying to get hold of you."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "What's the update?"

"Oliver Walsh is nowhere to be found," a third voice cut in, who Spencer caught on as Hotch's. It seemed they were in the same room. "Morgan and Prentiss are checking his house."

"They found anything yet?"

"There were countless photographs of our witness—candid shots, close-ups, and even pictures taken from a distance."

His chest tightened, his jaw clenched, and his teeth ground together as the anger surged through him. He felt a hot flush rise in his cheeks, his face contorting with the intensity of his emotions. It was as if a fire had ignited within him, each flickering flame fueled by his frustration.

But beneath all that, he could hear the uncertainty in Hotch's voice, the contrast between his usual commanding presence and the hesitant tone in his words.

"What is it?" Spencer asked cautiously.

"The pictures were taken professionally." There was a pause. "There isn't a dark room in his house or any sign that he possesses camera equipment."

There was a momentary silence on the line, broken only by the sound of the road beneath his tires and the occasional distant siren. Spencer took a deep breath. "Do you think he hired someone?"

"Based on his victims, he seems to prefer working alone."

"He could have a hideout," he suggested, his grip on the steering wheel tightened as he navigated through the quiet streets. "Criminals often use secret spaces. It gives them a sense of control over their environment where they feel safe from prying eyes."

Hotch hummed a sound of approval. "Hideout location often has a sentimental value. Garcia, find any places that might be mentioned in his files."

Spencer's ears picked up the distinct clatter of keyboards in the background.

"There's a church where his family used to go to... but it's still open to the public so no... oh, the house he grew up in? No, it was sold a few years ago—wait, I found something." Garcia paused, allowing a brief silence to settle in as the sound of keys clicking continued. "There's an old article mentioning an abandoned warehouse that he and his group of friends used to frequent during their youth, a secluded spot for underage alcohol consumption."

"Where's the location?"

"Give me a minute." Garcia typed away, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, summoning information that surprisingly only took her twenty seconds to retrieve the location. Spencer counted the exact time. "It's not far from here."

Then suddenly, she let out a sudden shriek. "Hotch!" There were footsteps in the background followed by fingers frantically flying across the keyboard. A sound of frustration left her lips not long afterward. "Damn it!"

"What happened?" Spencer asked in an alert. "Did you find something?"

"I-I've been trying to tap his phone, you know, trying to locate him in case he decided to turn it on, and I got a signal before it disappeared again."

Spencer asked, "Can you retrieve the last coordination it located?" At the same time, Hotch cut in with, "Can you trace it back?"

"Hold your horses, boys." With a series of rapid keystrokes, Garcia initiated a deep scan on her laptop. The seconds seemed to stretch as the scanning progress bar advanced before a notification popped up on the screen. The location data had been recovered.

"Oh my god." Her eyes zeroed in on the coordinates, and she quickly cross-referenced them with a map application to get a visual of the area. "It's six miles away from the warehouse."

Hotch wasted no time after receiving the information. "Reid, check the location. I'll coordinate with the tactical unit and dispatch a team of officers to assess the area. JJ and I will meet you there."

"I'm on it."

"I sent you the coordinate," Garcia mentioned, the same time his phone pinged with an alert.

"Don't do anything until we get there," Hotch reminded him. "And Reid?"

He hummed a reply, notifying that he was listening.

"I need you to stay focused."

His eyes flickered over the console. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Hotch's reminder struck a nerve. His words, though well-intentioned, were a stark reminder of the fine line he was walking between his personal struggles and his professional responsibilities. He sat there, and the call quickly cut off before he could even reply.

The noise of the bustling street faded into the background as his thoughts began to spiral, repeating his mentor's words, his expectations of him weighing heavily on his shoulders. Spencer shook his head, trying to ground himself. The case was important, and he couldn't afford to let his personal struggles jeopardize his work.

He slowly took a steadying breath, forcing himself to compartmentalize, a skill he had honed over years of dealing with high-stress situations, and silently drove toward the coordinate Garcia had sent over.

Y/n hated crying. She despised the way her throat tightened, constricting her voice as if it were trying to strangle the tears before they could escape. The way her chest heaved with each silent sob. Her hatred for the involuntary quiver of her lip and the trembling of her hands was as potent as it was irrational.

The irony wasn't lost on her, when her boss was found lifeless on the floor that day, she had stood strong, her eyes dry, absorbing the shock without a single tear. Yet, here she was, broken by the rejection of a man who had once held a fragment of her heart. It was baffling, the way he had become the chink in her armor, the one who could shatter her composure.

But could she even call that rejection? To be rejected there surely had to be some form of confession and she was one hundred percent sure she hadn't conveyed anything that indicated her affection for him... right?

Use me in any way you like.

She groaned into her pillow. To be fair, that wasn't a confession. And to be fair, he did exactly what she asked for—It just happened that it ended the exact opposite of what she expected.

With swollen eyes and a heavy heart, she finally pushed herself out of bed. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the faint glow of streetlights seeping through her curtains. As she rose from her tangled sheets, she felt the weight of her emotions as her thoughts went haywire.

She couldn't stand being alone at the moment. Her own thoughts seemed too loud, too suffocating. It felt like the walls were closing in, and every moment alone was just another reminder of how lonely she felt now.

That was why she reached for her phone and dialed Sandy's number, that was why she properly got dressed as she waited for her to arrive, and that was why she quickly rushed over to her front door when she heard the constant knocking. But as the door swung open, an unexpected sight froze her in her tracks.

Standing there with Sandy was Eric wearing a bemused expression. Her mind whirled with a mix of emotions–surprise, confusion, and a hint of embarrassment. She hadn't expected her to bring someone else, and now they were all standing at her doorstep, an unusual trio in the midst of an unanticipated gathering.

Sandy, sensing the tension in the air, was quick to speak up. "Oh, um... I brought company?"

"You brought Eric," she replied, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to mask her surprise.

Eric, ever the easygoing coworker, greeted her with a friendly nod and lifted the plastic bag in his hand. "And I brought Chinese. Hope you don't mind me tagging along."

For a moment, she hesitated, struggling to find her footing. It wasn't that she didn't like him, he was one of her good friends at work, which meant something because most of the men she worked with were chauvinistic, sexist pigs. But she did plan on having an emergency Margarita Night with her friend when she made the call. Although she couldn't find herself to send him away—not when he was looking at her expectantly—so she managed a hesitant smile and stepped aside.

"Come on in then." She tugged the door open. "The more the merrier, I guess."

Eric's eyes studied her distraught face as he walked in. "You okay? You look..."

"Bad?"

"I wouldn't say bad."

"I bet you wouldn't say good either."

He frowned as if trying to choose the right words. "You look stressed," he decided to say. "Everything alright?"

She paused, torn between opening up about her feelings and maintaining a sense of privacy. But in the end, she chose honesty, if only to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "Not really. I don't want to talk about it though." She motioned them into her living room. "What were you guys doing together anyway?"

"Eric has been stopping by at everyone's place in search of Oliver," Sandy responded, already making herself comfortable on the couch. "My place was his recent quest."

Y/n turned to Eric. "You still haven't heard from him?"

He shook his head, a mix of concern and frustration etched on his face. "No, not a word. That's why I decided to put in a missing person's report."

"What?" Sandy chimed in. "When?"

"This afternoon." He settled onto a nearby chair and turned his attention towards Y/n. "I met with Dr. Reid. You remember him, right?"

Remember him? They were here because of him in the first place. "Yeah, I remember him." She then shook her head, dismissing her personal feelings for the time being, and refocusing on the conversation. "You think Oliver's gone missing?"

Eric's concern was palpable as he replied, "His phone is off, his family is unreachable, and his house is empty. I'm starting to get worried."

Sandy's brows furrowed with concern as she leaned forward. "That doesn't sound like Oliver. He wouldn't just disappear without a word."

"That's what I've been trying to say."

She glanced between the two and listened as they continued to discuss the possibilities of his whereabouts. But as they did, Y/n couldn't help but feel that something was off, that there was an air of strangeness and suspicion surrounding his sudden vanishing act.

Her thoughts wandered to the peculiar way Oliver had always been interested in her, and her mind couldn't help but draw a parallel to her own situation, where a serial killer seemed to have an odd fascination with her. The pieces of the puzzle seemed to align themselves in her mind, forming a picture that was both unnerving and hard to accept. It sounded almost silly, like a twisted plot from a suspenseful thriller. It was all too surreal to be true.

She quickly shook her head, trying to dispel the disturbing thoughts, clinging to the hope that her mind was simply playing tricks on her. Because Oliver, her good friend Oliver, wouldn't do something as sinister as murder... right?

Spencer arrived an hour later. A single, isolated warehouse stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desolation, tucked away in a remote corner of the district. He parked his car discreetly before stepping out of the vehicle, his footsteps making a soft crunch on the gravel beneath his feet.

His breath hung in the crisp night air as he scanned the area meticulously, the slightest detail not escaping his analytical gaze. The warehouse stood against the backdrop of a vast, starlit sky, its silhouette imposing and enigmatic. Dim light spilled out from the high windows, casting long shadows that danced eerily on the surrounding ground.

Suddenly, the distant rumble of an approaching engine reached his ears. He turned sharply and was greeted by a convoy of vehicles making their way toward the warehouse. As they drew closer, he recognized the familiar silhouette of his unit chief behind the wheel and JJ seated right beside him.

The vehicles came to a stop, and the officers quickly disembarked, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Hotch approached him, his expression grave but determined. "We need to split into teams. Reid, you take point with me. JJ, coordinate with the other officers and enter from the side."

With a nod from him, the officers sprang into action, fanning out to explore the warehouse thoroughly. Spencer and Hotch approached the building cautiously with a flashlight in one of their hands and their weapons in the other.

The front entrance was partially obscured by a tangle of overgrown weeds and graffiti-covered walls. Spencer stepped closer toward it, his footsteps echoing louder in the silence. He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He had faced countless crime scenes and dangerous situations, but there was something about this abandoned warehouse that seemed eerie.

His mind immediately kicked into gear as he followed Hotch into the building. They stealthily moved from one corner to another, examining the objects that had been left behind in this desolate place. Piles of old crates were stacked haphazardly, their contents long removed or forgotten.

They came across a set of stairs that led to an upper level, and without a word, they ascended, their footsteps echoing on the metal steps. Upstairs, the darkness seemed even more suffocating, and the sense of isolation heightened. His flashlight landed on a stack of old files on the floor, their pages yellowed with age. He picked one up and flipped through it, but it appeared to be nothing more than old inventory records.

"There's nothing in here," he whispered. "We should check the other side—"

"Hotch! Reid! Over here!"

JJ's urgent voice alerted them and they both descended the stairs, her voice reverberated through the cavernous space. Spencer stepped into the room down the hall, his flashlight illuminating the scene before him. His steps then faltered, the sight that greeted him sent a shockwave of alarm through his already heightened senses. They had found him. Their suspected Unsub was right where they had predicted.

But he was lying in a pool of blood.

Oliver's unconscious form was a stark contrast against the cold, concrete floor. JJ was already at his side, checking his pulse and issuing urgent commands into her intercom for paramedic assistance. "Stab wounds," she announced to the room. "He's still breathing."

His mind raced as he took in the situation. How had Walsh ended up in this state? Who had inflicted the stab wound? And what had brought him to this remote area?

But his attention was soon drawn to the second startling discovery—the writing on the wall. His flashlight revealed a message scrawled in front of them, seemingly written with blood. He took a step closer, examining the writing carefully. The texture and consistency of the blood suggested it had been written recently.

Proverbs 14:8

Hotch, who entered the room with the rest of the team, observed the scene with a steely resolve. He instructed the officers to secure the area and preserve any potential evidence as paramedics rushed inside. His eyes scanned around him and he noticed Spencer's intense scrutiny of the message on the wall.

Spencer recited the verse as he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. "The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways, but the folly of fools is deception."

"Any idea what it means?" Hotch asked, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Spencer furrowed his brow, his mind racing through possible scenarios. "It's a message to us. The verse underscores the idea that wisdom involves careful consideration of one's actions and beliefs..." And then his voice slowly trailed off. "...while deception can lead to foolishness."

The words hung in the air, its implications weighing heavily on his mind. It was a declaration, a challenge, and a warning all at once. His mind raced to make sense of the situation. Who had written this message? Was this a desperate act from Walsh himself, or was there another player in this dangerous game they had been entangled in?

His stomach dropped.

That was it.

"It's a trap."

His mind then processed the surreal scene before him—the injured suspect, the message scrawled in blood—it was increasingly clear that this wasn't a straightforward apprehension; it was a carefully orchestrated plan, and they were mere pawns in a dangerous game. And as the realization began to grip him, his anxiety surged. There was only one thought in his mind.

With trembling fingers, Spencer pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had kept in his phone but never seemed to use. The seconds felt like an eternity as he anxiously waited for her to pick up. His mind raced with a thousand scenarios, each one more alarming than the last. Hotch stepped closer as he noticed the dread in his eyes.

"Reid."

There was only silence on the other end of the line. She wasn't answering. The fear that had gripped him intensified, and a knot of dread formed in his stomach. He tried again. There was still no answer. His hands began to tremble uncontrollably as he clutched his phone, the device suddenly feeling like an anchor pulling him deeper into a sea of fear.

"Reid."

As panic began to surge, he dialed Officer Anderson's number next. His trembling fingers pressed the buttons, and he held the phone to his ear, there was no response—no ringing, no voicemail, just a disheartening silence. His panic intensified. His chest tightened, and each gasping breath felt insufficient, leaving him feeling suffocated and—

"Reid!"

He exchanged a glance with Hotch. "I-I can't reach her," he said, sounding defeated. His palms grew clammy as he tried to regain control while he leaned against a nearby wall, attempting to steady himself.

JJ stood up and approached him. "Reid, take deep breaths," she urged, her voice calm and reassuring.

Spencer tried to steady his breathing, but his lungs felt constricted, and the air refused to fill them properly. He felt lightheaded, disconnected from reality, as waves of panic washed over him. JJ placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Focus on your breathing," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "In and out."

But the words struggled to penetrate the fog of panic that had enveloped his mind. His thoughts spiraled into a chaotic mess of fear and helplessness. The walls of the warehouse seemed to close in on him, and he gasped for air.

JJ guided him to a nearby crate. He complied, allowing himself to sit down as his trembling hands found the edge of the crate, fingers gripping tightly as he tried to steady himself. She crouched in front of him, her eyes meeting his.

"Spence, look at me. We're going to find her, but I need you to breathe, okay?" His gaze met hers, and he nodded, albeit shakily. He knew that he couldn't let his panic consume him, not when there was a chance of her being in danger, not when there was a possibility of her being taken away—he quickly shook his head.

The warehouse's oppressive atmosphere seemed to recede as he concentrated on his breath. Spencer became acutely aware of the controlled chaos unfolding around him. Hotch's firm and authoritative voice as he started to make calls, the flashlights dancing over the walls, and the low murmur of voices filling the space. He closed his eyes briefly, attempting to center himself.

But as he waited to regain his composure, the minutes felt like hours, and the fear of losing her weighed heavily on his mind.

Please, let her be safe.

"Y/n!" Sandy's voice called from the other room, prompting her to emerge from the bathroom. "Your phone keeps ringing."

"Can you check who it's from?"

Sandy checked the caller ID and responded, "Unknown caller."

She let out a dismissive sigh and started to head back into the room. "It's probably just spam."

But then, Sandy's voice broke the silence again, this time with a question that hung in the air like a heavy cloud. "This might sound crazy, but do you think Oliver has anything to do with Jamison's death?" Her breath hitched at the unexpected question. She turned to face her friend as she continued, "Just think about it, Oliver went missing right after the murder. Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

Eric's frown deepened, and he interjected, "Don't say that. He could be in danger for all we know."

"I forgot you're protective over him." Sandy turned toward Y/n, who stood in the middle of the room, caught between their exchange. "Did you know Eric and Oliver grew up together?"

Her frown deepened as she processed her words. "You did?" She asked Eric, her tone marked by surprise.

He shrugged, his casual demeanor unchanged. "We weren't exactly friends. We just grew up in the same community."

She continued to express her curiosity. "Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Because it's not important? Like I said, we weren't even friends."

Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of surprise mixed with a tinge of confusion. "I've known you both for what, two—almost three years now, and neither of you mentioned this?"

Eric dismissed her concern with a simple explanation. "It's not really a secret, though. We just don't talk about it." He then glanced over at Sandy. "I mean, she knows."

"It's really not an interesting topic," her friend agreed. "Why does it matter?"

She found herself grappling with that very question. Why did it matter? Why was this information tugging at her concern more than it probably should? She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this felt unsettling, like a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit, and it left her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

In the end, she decided to let it go, at least for now. She shook her head, dismissing her lingering thoughts. "I... never mind."

She dismissed the topic and left the two to talk as she entered the kitchen, her steps echoing in the quiet space. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the dim overhead light, casting elongated shadows across the countertops.

With a sigh, she made her way to the refrigerator, its white exterior gleaming faintly in the light. As she pulled the door open, a cold gust of air rushed out, ruffling her hair. She bent down and stared into its content. While her unanswered phone calls continued to chime softly in the background, her eyes scanned along the stacks of drink lined across the shelf.

"Do you guys want a refill?" She called out, her voice breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

She waited for a response, only to be met by silence.

"Eric! Sandy! Do you want a refill?"

There was still no answer.

"...Guys?"

It was then she realized the gentle sound of conversation from the other room had stopped, replaced by an eerie quiet that seemed to envelop the entire house. The only sound that persisted was the soft, persistent ringing of her phone in the background. Slowly, she began to stand, her movements deliberate and cautious.

She froze in place, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she heard a sudden sound of something heavy hitting the floor. It echoed through the room, breaking the eerie silence that had enveloped the house.

But it wasn't the thud itself that startled her, it was the deafening silence that followed, as if the very world had gone mute. The absence of any other sound, the stillness that hung in the air, was unnerving. It felt like the calm before a storm, the hush that precedes a revelation, and every instinct in her body screamed at her to be cautious.

Her breathing became shallow, and she strained her ears, hoping to catch any sound that might offer an explanation. "Sandy?" She took a step forward. "Eric?"

She slowly merged from the kitchen, her cautious steps carried her down the narrow hallway that led to the living room. The silence pressed down on her felt like a heavy weight, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath her.

A sense of unease settled over her as she stepped into the living room. At first glance, everything seemed eerily normal. The furniture was in its usual place, the soft glow of the lamps still casted a warm hue across the room. Yet, amidst this apparent calm, her eyes landed on a sight that sent a shock of fear coursing through her veins.

A gasp caught in her throat, because there, on the floor, lay Sandy's unconscious form, her body sprawled in an unnatural position. The room seemed to close in around her as she rushed forward, but before she could even move, she felt a sudden, oppressive presence behind her.

A heavy arm closed around her waist in a tight grip, and another hand pressed firmly against her mouth, muffling any cries of surprise or fear. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest, as she was pulled backward, away from Sandy's prone figure.

"Hey, hey, don't move." A hushed and urgent voice whispered in her ear. She froze, her heart still pounding, her eyes wide with fear. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

It was in that terrifying moment that she realized a cloth was held over her mouth, and with a gasp, she inadvertently inhaled something that left her world spinning. The room seemed to blur and distort, shadows swirling into a chaotic dance as her body went limp.

The last thing she recalled was the persistent sound of her phone ringing before everything went black.

>> NEXT PART

taglist #1

@tereresrock @casthings @vader-is-hot @maevethelesbian @whereintheworldisspencerreid @reidverseq @niyahwhoreworld @l4venderia @theintrovertedthespian @lovelyxtom @tayzerr-72 @mulbsstuff @dorothleah @stevenknightmarc @prettyboyspenceee @gracesmusings @kalulakunundrum @fearlessmoony @r5court @simp4f1 @thecrazytealady @nyeddleblog @ghostheartbeat @comfortzonequeen @iiheartbowie @louderfortheback @busy-buzzing @alexis-exe2008 @imtherealslimmoony @baeofevery @elamultistan @lyxennz @avid-fic-reader-05

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PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

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hwangswhore · 7 months

Text

•B A C K S T A G E•

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader

genre: smut (mdni‼️)

desc: after not seeing you for months due to touring, hyunjin finally gets to have his way with you when you show up to the final show in seoul.

content: established relationship, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (pls be safe), dirty talking, pet names, risky public sex, idk I think that’s it ?

auth. note: requested by my friend ;) enjoy !

Hyunjin was frustrated.

Sexually frustrated.

It was his first tour since you two started dating, so he knew it would be difficult, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he craved your presence. Hyunjin has always been an introvert, always comfortable being in his own presence. However, since being away from you, he has been nothing but a lonely mess.

He’s never really had anything to miss so much before. Sure, he has his family, and he does miss them, but it’s just different. He has Kkami, but Kkami doesn’t miss him back so it’s pretty one sided.

He doesn’t really have many close friends outside of the band members and staff. Not because he doesn’t want to, but it just never really happened. Since debuting, he never really went out of his way to go meet new people. He doesn’t really trust many people, anyways.

But then he met you.

It was painfully organic, like something out of those romance films he spent way too many hours watching. He had some time off due to some minor injuries he sustained in a car accident. The company made him stay home so he could rest.

But Hyunjin didn’t want to rest. He wanted to spend this time doing something he enjoyed. So he painted a few pieces, caught up on his favorite dramas, and even learned how to make his own iced americanos from home.

That fateful evening, he chose to spend his day at an art museum. he was touring the exhibits, admiring the artwork, when he heard a subtle gasp next to him. Turning his head in your direction, he saw you standing there, mouth agape, staring at the painting ahead of you.

He saw your eyes quickly fill with tears as you raised your phone up to take a phone of the painting. He debated interrupting your moment as you were clearly emotionally affected by this piece, but he was also painfully curious as to the story behind your reaction.

So he did something so out of character; he started a conversation with you.

You explained to him the reason behind your connection to that piece, and the two of you ended up touring the rest of the exhibit afterwards. He would have felt uneasy, fearing you were a stalker trying to get his attention, but he quickly learned that you had just moved to Korea for your job, which solidified the safe feeling he felt around you.

And he’s felt that same safeness ever since.

You two have been officially together now for 8 months, and maybe it’s just the honeymoon phase, but Hyunjin isn’t a believer in that. He believes when you’re in love, you stay in love forever. Which is why he’s certain he will never grow tired of you.

What he is tired of, in this particular moment, is how needy he feels all the time.

It isn’t something he’s used to. Hyunjin has gotten used to being alone for years, taking care of himself when he’s horny, not having anyone’s face in mind when he touches himself, just fully focused on his pleasure.

But that isn’t the case anymore. The only thing that gets him worked up is the thought of you. He can’t cum unless he imagines your face. He feels so empty afterwards without you to snuggle with. He craves you every second.

And this second is no different.

Hyunjin is currently performing the last show in Seoul. He knew you’d be here tonight, you always come to the shows they play in Korea. He was so excited to see you again, it had been too long since he last held you.

However, that was the last thing on his mind right now as he looked at you in the front row of the crowd. You smiled up at him and sent him a heart. He has to resist the urge to send one back to you, too afraid of exposing your relationship. But he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You wore his favorite top, the one that hugs your cute tits so well, as well as that cute skirt he likes to fuck you in. Oh, you definitely knew what you were doing.

And Hyunjin would give you exactly what you were asking for.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re currently pinned against a dressing room wall with your hands pinned behind your back, exactly how you planned it.

When all you did was moan in response, Hyunjin slapped your ass and brought his lips to your ear, whispering, “oh, you wanna be quiet now? wanna act like you didn’t wear this just to get me riled up?” He roughly grabs your top and pulls it off of you before one hand starts grabbing at your tits. “Well you’re gonna get exactly what you asked for.” He doesn’t bother taking your skirt off, just lifts it up to find you wearing those crotchless panties he loves so much.

The sound he let out was almost animalistic, his fingers immediately plunging into your hole that was already so wet for him. You moaned loudly, not caring who could hear, as you tried to wiggle one of your hands out of the grip he had on your wrist. He complied, letting you free so you could raise a hand up and run it through his hair. Hyunjin was a sucker for scalp messages, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation while he continued to finger you.

“Missed you so much baby…”he says in between kisses to your neck. “Did you miss me too?” You nodded fervently, trying to fuck yourself back into his fingers while your lips searched for his. The two of you made out sloppily for a while before he pulled away and removed his fingers

You wiggled your hips desperately which made him giggle. You smiled. Even when he was trying to be hard and dominate, his sweet personality always came through. Your sweet boy was always there.

“Gonna let everyone hear how much you missed me angel?” Without time to answer, he thrusted his cock inside you all in one go. Your hands gripped the walls as you tried with every ounce of strength you had to keep quiet, letting out breathy moans here and there.

Hyunjin, however, was proudly letting everyone hear how much he missed his baby, letting out the most ethereal moans and grunts the human ear could ever hear. He set a perfect pace, angling his hips upward to hit your spot perfectly.

You couldn’t take it anymore, writhing and whining as he fucked you so perfectly, hitting your spot with precision and strength. You moaned out his name, trying to warn him you were close. He put his mouth right up to your ear, whispering. “Yeah? Gonna make a mess for the staff to clean up? Gonna let everyone know what we did in here? So filthy…” he spat, making you clench impossible tight on his length, making his rhythm falter from pleasure.

With one last long, drawn out whine of his name, you came all over his length, your cum dripping down his balls and on to the floor. He hissed at the sight and sensation, working you through your orgasm before pulling out.

“Knees, now.” He snapped his fingers towards the ground, which you were immediately knelt on. He brought his tip to your mouth. “Suck.” You obeyed, sucking his mushroom tip while he stroked the rest of his length in his hand. “Fucking cumming…fuck..fuuuuuuck.” With a deep, drawn out groan of profanities, he shot his thick warm load into your mouth, which you happily took all of before swallowing.

He brought a hand to your cheek and held your face while looking down at you with hooded eyes and staggered breaths. “So good…I love you so fucking much. Come here.” He pulled you up and immediately brought you in for a sweet kiss, moaning at the taste of both of your arousals.

After getting cleaned up and dressed, you both stepped out of the dressing room, hair and absolute wreck and faces flushed from your post orgasm glow. It was obvious to everyone what you two just did, and quite frankly, you were too spent to care.

Walking down the hall, you passed by Lee Know, who gave you both a clearly sarcastic smile, saying “Hey! Try being louder next time!” Before switching to a blank expression and walking past you. Hyunjin chuckled, before turning to you with a tired, sweet smile.

“So..dinner?”

🖤💋

#hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjinsmut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjins #skzsmut #kpop smut #kpop #established relationship

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privitivium · 3 months

Note

hii, hope ure doing alright. could u do a bully yan who’s like trying to deny their feelings for reader but can’t help but feel so desperate for them. maybe make it dark?

sure pal. i love yandere bullies/delinquents.... hooray! sorry for any mistakes :3 request more bully/delinquent stuff its my favorite !!!! Mwah!!! edited the tags! thanks anon!!

domtop yandere bully x subbot loner reader!

both amab! cw;; degredation, noncon - drugging, hints of stalking, perverted thoughts in general... mentions of spreading nudes but nothing is spread besides cheeks

he couldn't stand you. simply put! you fucking disgusted him. what's your problem, acting all haughty (ㅡshy) and disgusted (ㅡanxious) everytime he tries to talk to you-? it cant be because he teases you - it's friendly teasing! - you ruin everything with your sensitivity. it's your own fault that he fucks with you. trying so hard to get you to be isolated so that no one would wanna be your friend - leaving you all by your lonesome for him to swoop by and pick you up like a prince charming... that will never happen. you'd like that though, right? ㅡ you get all flustered to the point where you cant even talk when he's apprehending you and fucking with you. torturing you... pulling at your clothes, flicking you, gripping your bicep a little too hard to leave bruises but not yet outwardly fucking you up... can't you commend him for that?

knee bouncing at a rapid pace as he sits at his desk a few rows from yours - trying so hard to ignore your soft laughter, sitting with some guy... you were both so painfully idiot loser nerds. it only makes sense that you would try to befriend someone as pathetic as you, huh?! gritting his teeth, hands over his ears - fidgeting in place. trying to resist the urge to stand up and toss his desk at you. what an embarrassment, letting himself think this way about some fucking nobody?!?! he hates it. he doesn't even like you. he hates it!!

ㅡhates the way he thinks about your... disgusting body and what your... fingers would feel like in his mouth... what his dick would feel like all snug inside you... h-how your... chest would feel... under his fingertips... his heart aching painfully in his chest at the horrible thoughts in his mind, feeling breathless as he holds his arms crossed over his front in attempts to comfort himself - glaring at you from afar as you sit, undisturbed and obviously enjoying the time he spends away from you.

gods, you're horrible. someone needs to teach you a lesson on how to not affect peoples thoughts... hn. isn't that right? shaking a pill bottle in hand faintly as he watches you slink in the direction of your home after a rough day of not picking on you - he knew your guardians work schedule this week, so of course ... this would be such a fine night to show you who's boss, huh? of course you don't get a say in this, disgusting freak. waiting til dawn before lurking around your neighborhood. you weren't one to hangout with anybody, nor go anywhere. you were too... nervous for any of that stuff... the thought of it makes him all giddy - for you to depend on him?! sloppily tattooed hand itching to be shoved down the front of his pants and paint your window white-!

entering your home was so damn easy too - it's like you knew what he was doing and wanted this to happen? keeping the spare key under a plethora of rocks near the front door - it was tedious having to look for it at first, but he's sure he'll get his good karma...

all the lights were off and it wasn't as hard as he thought to navigate through the darkness of your house... nearly giggling to himself as he opens the door to your room, there you lay, sleeping in your bed against the wall. nearing your unconscious form.. dick spraining against his jeans about the thoughts of what he'll finally fucking do to youㅡgods, it felt so good... to be able to touch you like this in the comfort of your own room. i mean, yeah, you were crying and struggling now, but... you kinda dont matter right now... climbing over you, so heavy-! holding you down... your struggling and crying out form - shhh... slapping his hand over your mouth and forcing a pill down your throat - the painful ache of tears striking your eyes and gagging on his fingers made you all the more disgusted with yourself.

ㅡenough of all that "how did you get inside my house?" nonsense... you're kinda ruining the mood. he's kidding, he really likes when you cry. lifting his fingers to your eyes - you jerk your head away, chest heaving and nearly pissing your pants at the reality of your bully inside your bedroomㅡyou were just trying to sleep; heart pounding against your ribcage and feeling nauseous and weak - what the fuck did you swallow? you're all... fucked up. lazy and slow... but blood shoots to your cock as though you took some kind of nyquil and you're heaving, trying so hard to form a coherent sentence;; "ㅡi don't... don't touch me... f-fuck, please, ple-ease.." you were so scared of him... don't worry, silly...

he laughs, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes - having come off of you... knowing you didnt have the strength to run. "shut up, will you? youre always so damn whiny..." he huffs in a mildly humorous tone, before yanking the blanket off your body... your pitiful frame jolting in surprise, but not doing much else besides laying there with an aching tent pitched in your stupid ass pajama pants...

the blanket discarded on the floor - lamp turned on dimly - and he resumes his position so eagerly hunched over you, taking in your flushed form in the dim lighting. shoving your shirt up and yanking your pants - boxers down to your knees, sleeping in clothes instead of in boxers like a normal person? youre so weird... planting sloppy, messy kisses all over your naked chest as you whine and whimper like a damn injured little dog - as he humps into your thigh and nearly cumming as he sucks on your hard little nipple - feeling the bud react to his elicit licking... mmfgh. your cock... so pretty.. flushed with neediness and leaking against his clothes. he's never going to wash these clothes...

ㅡ"don't... don' wantt this. theyre gonna come home... n' ur gonna be all .. in trouble..." complaining in a slurring voice... ur so silly. he cant get enough of you.

"why's your dick all hard? it should be soft if you really dont want this, no?" he snickers as he sits up - glancing down at the mess all over his front as you whine from loss of contact. "stupid fucking idiot... so damn irritating. acting like you don't fucking want this when you parade around the halls - acting so shy... hn."

taking the time to slide two digits up your erected dick... the feeling of his fingers along your prick sends electricity up your spine, butterflies swarming your tummy and you faintly fear you were going to throw up on him in such an embarrassing moment - you shake your head weakly, drool dribbling passed your chin which you try to wipe away, he didnt find the use in restraining you, being much stronger than you anyway - "nn-nuh uh.. i don't.." your trembling hands going to grip his wrist to try and tug him away... him, easily shaking away your hands from his... not that he really minded at all - you were a weak little thing, and he didnt mind being touched. what a sight! you, all for him... nearly sobbing... so cute. he cant help himself... dick aching, still snug in his boxers..

"does it hurt?" trailing his hand down your bitten, hickey-ridden chest - grinning softly at your whimper, feeling his face set aflame at your little noises and the mere feeling of you underneath his fingertipsㅡ"n-no..." you answer, voice choked up and breathless as though you've been doing all the heavy lifting.. so typicalㅡ"it will," he murmurs, without elaborating. reveling in your mild surprise - it's the best you can show while fucked out. he's sure to make you feel so good that you won't tell. you won't right?? of course not! fingerfucking you, cooing at you for being a stupid little whore sucking his fingers in your "tight little hole" before he has the gall to shove his much fatter cock inside you... wanting you to feel the sting of your walls stretched further - feel the fucking pain!

fucking you into your bed - ignoring your mute crying and whining as it only fueled him, fingers slick in his cum shoved in your mouth - telling you he was recording, but there was no phone nor camera placed... he just liked the feeling of your hole clamping down on his meaty cock in fright.. squirming against his bulky body. so futile, ur not going anywhere silly... nor are you telling anyone! he's gonna blackmail you, show everyone how much you love your big body bully thrusting his prick in your lazily stretched hole. it's shown all over your face... lips parted and drooling on your pillow, tears sliding down your cheeks, eyes rolled back and gasping every time his hips slap into yours.

he.. loves taking pictures of you while in this vulnerable state... for safekeeping, he pets your cheek. he'd love to see that embarrassed face, flushed with tears and hunched over in a pathetic form of cowering if he were to spread them all over the school... but they were his pictures. only for him to ogle at and to use for masturbating. his!! but oh... he... wants to see the fear in your eyes seeing your "friends" laughing at your whorish body messy with cum with a cock limp and leaking in-between your pretty thighs... but no! that's his cock to look at !!! augh, the dilemma..

#ocs =͟͟͞͞★#yandere bully!!#x male reader #male reader #x bttm male reader #bttm male reader #dom male character #yandere oc x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere m x m reader #yandere male x male reader #dom top male character!

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lovelybrooke · 5 months

Note

What about a yandere Vil from twst giving you a makeover?

This is pretty short but I hope you enjoy

Masterlist

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Your eyes shut tight, you faintly feel fingers brush over the sides of your cheeks, gripping you and tilting your head left and right. You can imagine the concentration on Vil's face, stern and unwavering as he paints your face.

You've been here forever, so long that you nearly forgot how you got here. One second you were walking in the hallway, books tucked away under your arm as you rushed to class. You were running late and so, you weren't looking where you were going when you ran into the all too famous housewarden.

"Oof--sorry!" You exclaimed in frustration, mostly at yourself. Anger only flashed on his face for a small second, before a teasing smile decorated his lips.

"Goodness my dear, you look terrible." He chuckled at your clear annoyance. Resisting the urge to fix your hair, he instead opted to straighten out your uniform, which was ruffled from running into him. After a few seconds, his hands slowly retracted from your uniform, resting gently back at his side. "Come with me." It wasn't a question, his hand grasping yours as he drags you along, the opposite direction of your class. You chose not to argue, knowing it would get you nowhere. Instead you prayed that you wouldn't be punished too bad for missing class.

Now, you're sitting on a fancy Pomefiore chair, facing Vil as he works diligently to fix your messy appearance.

"Relax your face, you're squinting." You hear him say, breath close to your face.

"Sorry." You murmur as he tilts your face up slightly. You hear him laugh and for a second you think about opening your eyes, just so you can see him smile. But you decide against it, waiting patiently for him to finish.

A few more minutes pass, quiet minters where you barely feel his presence, except for when a hand touches your shoulder, just so he can move around you. Or when Vil mutters something close to your ear, but not loud enough for you to discern. You attempt to decipher his whispers in your head, but it always leaves you more and more confused.

You hear shuffling, telling you that he was moving around his room. Before you really notice his absence, he's back infant of you. "You can open your eyes now." You do as he says, meeting yourself in the mirror. You were so--glittery, face perfectly decorated. You observe yourself for a while longer, tilting your head just to see more of Vil's work. Once finished, you meet Vil's gaze, which was already fixated on you.

You resist yourself from shying away from him, trying your best to keep his gaze. His eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't recognize, it reminded you of the look he gave you when teasing you, weirdly affectionate. It made your stomach fill with butterflies, and finally, you looked away from him. "Thank you, Vil. This was really nice of you." You whisper.

"You're very beautiful, you know." He whispers back, reaching over to cup your chin and tilt his face back to him. "Could I do your makeup everyday?" He asked so gently, it barely felt like Vil at all.

"Y-you don't really have to do that, Vil..." you stammer, trying to keep a calm face.

His face shifts a bit, frustration dancing across his face quickly before disappearing. "Well then, you better hurry off to class." His demeanor was different, his was more stiff and ridged. "You wouldn't want to be late for another class, now would you?" He said, eyes sharper than before.

You nod, looking at yourself one last time, this time in Vil's vanity. On closer look, you notice that your subtle yet beautiful makeup matched Vil's slightly. Maybe it's just what he thought would look best on you?

Tearing your eyes away from the mirror, you say one last goodbye to Vil, before leaving his room. Shutting the door, you sigh quietly.

You'll have to explain to Grimm why you didn't show up to class.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #vil twisted wonderland #vil twst #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit

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beyondthesefourwalls · 4 months

Text

An Aviation Special

Summary: You had always wanted to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but when it starts to go sideways thanks to your travel companions, you fear the whole trip, maybe even the whole city, has been ruined for you. But then a handsome stranger swoops in when some drunk idiot gets too handsy, and your night takes an unexpected turn for the better.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Fluff galore, language, drunk idiots and handsy men, mentions of flashing.

Notes: Written for @thedroneranger's pick your poison challenge, with a Mardi Gras board of my dreams.

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You were doing your best not to panic, choosing instead to focus on the annoyance coursing through your body instead. Your sister and her friends, her stupid, reckless friends, had done what they always did and got a little too wild, and while you had slipped away to the bathroom, they thought it would be a great idea to switch bars. Instead of waiting for you, they had shot a text to the Bachelorette Bead Bash group chat that you had created, telling you where to meet them. Only now you were there, and they were nowhere to be found. And to top it all off, your phone was dead.

“Stupid, stupid bridesmaids,” you muttered under your breath, pushing through the rowdy crowd of people none-too-gently to get to the bar. You tried not to cringe when you felt how sticky it was, immediately withdrawing your hands. “Excuse me,” you said, speaking a little louder when at first you didn’t get the bartender’s attention. He turned to you with a bored, exasperated look on his face, clearly annoyed with all the drunk tourists taking up space. “Do you happen to have a phone charger? I just need it for long enough to make one phone call, I promise.”

“No, sorry.”

You groaned as he walked away without another word, resisting the urge to stomp your foot in frustration. This was just your luck.

“I don’t have a charger, but flash your tits for me, gorgeous, and I’ll give you some of these beads.”

You turned your head to the drunk idiot standing far too close to you, a scowl on your deep purple painted lips as he shook the aforementioned colorful beads in your face. He reeked of sweat and cheap liquor and his eyes were glazed over as he leered at you.

“How about you take those beads and strangle yourself with them instead?” you snarked back, and to your disgust, the guy and his buddies only laughed. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning away from him and taking a step to start forcing yourself through the throngs of bodies that were almost certainly violating some sort of fire code. You didn’t get far before a hand was grabbing your arm, jolting you back.

“Come on, baby, you know you want to.”

The panic was trying its best to creep up again, but the annoyance was also morphing into anger as you narrowed your eyes. You were contemplating the risk of slapping him across the face when a voice spoke up from beside you.

“I think she said no, man. But those girls over there look pretty eager.”

The guy almost stumbled in his intoxication when he turned to see where the newcomer was indicating, shouting in excitement at the view of three women standing on a table pulling their shirts up as plastic flung in their direction. Him and his friends moved in that direction without another glance at you. The bouncer of the bar was also heading their way, and you breathed a sigh of relief that not only were the guys leaving you alone, but hopefully those women would make it out of here safely, too.

“Pawning my problem off on other women goes against every feminist bone in my body,” you said, turning for the first time to put a face to the voice who had come to your rescue. You’re met with a startling pair of dark eyes and a jawline that should be illegal. His smile was warm and amused, and despite all the irritation you were feeling, you couldn’t help but take a moment and think damn.

“It seemed like they would welcome the attention a lot more than you were,” he justified, and his voice was as smooth this time as it was the first time he spoke. You gave a noncommittal hum in response, and he raised a thick eyebrow as his smile grew. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“Were you planning to?” he challenged, and you felt a fluttering in your stomach at his playful tone. You contemplated for a moment, eyes narrowed and colorful lips pursed. You could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as he stared back at you, waiting.

“Thank you,” you finally said, only a little bit begrudgingly, and the stranger nodded in satisfaction.

“You’re welcome,” he repeated. “Also, there’s a place a few bars down that has a charging station. I overheard you asking the bartender.”

"Oh my god," you groaned in relief, "are you serious?"

He laughed, the sound washing over you. He motioned for you to follow him through the crowd toward the exit. You hesitated for a moment, remembering that you were in a city you had never been in before during their busiest tourist week of the year, and you didn't know this man. But then a cheer came from the corner, and when you glanced over, one of the guys from earlier had climbed on the table and taken off his shirt, plastic beads flying everywhere. You winced and turned back, nodding once. As you made your way out of the bar and onto the bustling street, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he navigated through the chaos.

"I'm Javy, by the way," he offered once you made it onto the sidewalk.

"Nice to meet you," you replied, offering up your name in return. He stuck close to you as he guided you down the overly crowded streets. You tried your best to ignore the lingering unease that clung to the back of your mind, but you found that his confident demeanor made it easy. "Are you a local?" you asked.

He flashed you a charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I used to be," he explained. "I grew up here, but I live in California currently. But New Orleans will always be home in a lot of ways. I take it you're not?"

"No," you snorted, narrowly avoiding running into someone running in the opposite direction. Your arm brushed against Javy's as you pushed slightly closer to him, and you tried to ignore the heat that the slight touch caused. "I'm here for my sister's bachelorette party. The city had always been on our bucket list to travel to together, but then her friends decided they wanted to overtake the whole trip and make it Mardi Gras of all times."

"I take it you don't like these friends?" he asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

You gave him the biggest smile you had since you met him a few minutes ago, and he was laughing before you even spoke the words. "Understatement of the century."

You go on to tell him about how they had pretty much blown the itinerary you had carefully crafted as maid of honor, including how they left to go to the next bar without you, and then not been there when you showed up. You weren't sure why you were telling a man you didn't know all of this, but it felt good to say it out loud nonetheless.

"They sound like they suck," he said plainly once you were done explaining. You let out a very unladylike snort as you agreed.

"What about you?" you asked, "what brings you back?"

"Ironically enough, I'm here for my best friend's bachelor party. There may have been an incident with a few of the groomsmen getting drinks thrown on them, and I ran into one of my cousins at the bar we were just at, so I told them I'd meet up with them once they came back out from going back to the hotel to change." He flashed you another smile, his eyes shining with a genuine warmth. "I suppose everything happens for a reason, though."

You chuckled, and he winked as you arrived at what you guessed was your destination. Javy held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Inside, the bar was as lively as the others you had been to, but the atmosphere was strangely inviting. You followed as he led you to the back corner where a row of charging stations lined the wall. You tried not to groan when you saw all of them were in use.

“Clearly I’m not the only one in New Orleans who went out without a fully charged phone tonight,” you muttered under your breath. A gentle hand on your arm had you turning your gaze to the man who had led you here, his dark, kind eyes meeting yours.

“Let me buy you a drink while you wait for one to open up.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. There was something about Javy that intrigued you, a magnetic pull that you hadn't felt in a very long time that made you want to spend more time in his company. You desperately needed to charge your phone and get in touch with your sister and her friends, so you'd be waiting here no matter what anyway...there was no harm in a drink, you rationalized.

"Sure," you finally said, unable to resist his charming smile. "A drink sounds great."

You followed him to the bar, squeezing through the crowd until you found a spot where you could lean against the counter.

As you waited for someone behind the bar to notice you, Javy leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. "What would you like?" he asked, his voice tinged with what you thought was anticipation.

You turned to face him, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through your veins as your eyes met. His gaze was intense, yet inviting, pulling you into a world of possibilities. "Surprise me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the bar.

With a mischievous grin, Javy flagged down the bartender. You couldn't hear what it was that he ordered, but before long, two stemmed cocktail glasses filled with a vibrant purple liquid garnished with a lemon peel and a deep red cherry were set down in front of you. "Mardi Gras special?" you asked with an eyebrow raise. He laughed as he grabbed both drinks and then nodded his head toward one of the barstools at the very end of the charging station that had just opened up. You hurried over to it before someone else could, sliding onto the barstool almost clumsily. Javy made himself comfortable leaning against the counter beside your stool, facing you. He handed you one of the drinks after you had plugged your dead phone in. Making the conscious decision to enjoy your time with him as much as you could, you placed the screen face down.

"It's called an Aviation, actually."

He looked almost amused as he brought the drink to his lips. You studied him closely as you did the same, letting the flavors of the gin and lemon dance on your tastebuds.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched you intently, and you didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you licked away a stray drop of the liquid when you took another sip. The air crackled with tension, and you had to fight the urge to lean closer to him. He cleared his throat, looking away momentarily. You tampered down the shiver that threatened to run through you.

"So why'd you leave New Orleans?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Work," he explained."I'm in the Navy, so I've lived all over the place."

"The Navy, huh?"

He hummed in confirmation.That glint in his eyes that made you feel like you were missing something was back, and your eyes narrowed in curiosity. "And what do you do in the Navy?"

A smirk played on his lips. He tried to cover it by taking another sip of his drink, but you saw right through it. He set the glass down, folding his hands together as he stared at you. "I'm an aviator."

You paused for a beat, looking down at the purple drink before looking back at him, the joke you had been missing clicking into place in your head.

"Okay," you said slowly, and Javy was already chuckling from his spot beside you. "I see what you did here."

His laughter was loud, but not obnoxiously so, instead surrounding you like a comforting warmth. You couldn't help but join in with him, your giggles blending seamlessly with his.

The atmosphere around you seemed to fade into the background as the two of you talked, the conversation flowing easily between you. The more you learned about Javy, the more intrigued you became. His passion for flying was evident in every word he spoke, and it was contagious. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, mesmerized by his experiences and adventures. And when you spoke, he listened with genuine interest, occasionally interjecting with laughter or witty remarks. The more you talked, the more drawn you felt to him. There was something about his easy charm and attentive nature that made you feel seen and understood.

Eventually, your phone buzzed with a notification, indicating that it had finally regained some charge. Reluctantly, you flipped it over and glanced at the screen. Reading through the few messages that you missed in the chat, you snorted in disbelief. "My sister and three of her bridesmaids started throwing up at the last bar they went to."

"Yikes," Javy winced. "Are they okay?"

Your heart fluttered at the concern he showed for people he didn't even know. Damn damn damn.

"They're fine," you assured him with a small smile. "The other two have already dragged them back to the hotel to sleep it off. Guess the night is over."

You felt sad as you said the words. The night had started a shit show, but talking to Javy had turned it around. You weren't really ready for it to come to an end just yet.

As you reached to unplug your phone, Javy's hand gently clasped yours, halting your movement. "You don't need to rush off just yet," he said softly, his warm gaze holding yours. "Why don't you come hang out with me and my friends instead?"

You looked at him in surprise, shocked by the offer.

"Don't you think your best friend will be mad that I'm crashing his bachelor party?"

"Not even a little bit," he assured you. "They're all good guys, I promise."

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated.

You knew that you should decline. Going off with a group of strangers in a city you barely knew didn't exactly scream "intelligent decision." Still, you found that you wanted to take him up on it.

Reading the apprehension on your face, Javy continued on, more eager now as he tried to convince you. "Look, as a Louisiana boy, I can't bring myself to allow you to leave New Orleans without actually enjoying yourself. You deserve to have a good time." His hand settled on yours again and squeezed gently. When he spoke, he was shyer than he had been all night. "And if I'm being honest with myself...the last thirty minutes with you have been the highlight of my trip home, and that's saying something. I'm not really ready for it to end yet."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit or ulterior motive. But all you found was sincerity and an excitement that you felt flicker in you, too. Against your better judgment, you nodded. You were tired of playing by the rules, tired of always being the responsible one. Maybe tonight could be different.

"Alright," you conceded, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Lead the way."

Javy's grin widened, and he intertwined his fingers with yours before guiding you out of the crowded bar. The night air hit you with a welcome change as you followed him through the lively streets.

His friends waited at a bar just a few blocks away. As you approached, their laughter and boisterous conversation spilled onto the sidewalk. When they saw Javy walking hand in hand with you, their eyes widened with surprise. Almost instantly, the cat calls started.

Javy rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh lightly as you leant against him. "Yeah, yeah. Knock it off."

He introduced you to each of his friends amongst their teasing. They were a rowdy group, and it wasn't hard to see how much they cared for each other. The camaraderie instantly calmed you.

It was surprisingly easy, letting yourself have fun with this group of strangers. They accepted your presence like it was nothing, involving you in every conversation and debate they had, and within a few hours, you felt like you had known them for a lot longer than you really had. The night continued on, a whirlwind of pretty purple drinks and colorful masks and exuberant laughter. Vibrant jazz music reverberated through the air, the streets full of purple, gold and green chaos. You could feel the pulsating energy of the city surging through you, and this is exactly why you had always wanted to come here.

At some point, Javy grabbed your hand, beckoning you to dance with him. You giggled happily as he twirled you. The world around you melted away, leaving only the pulsating music and the warmth of his touch. You were tipsy from all the alcohol and the thrill of an unexpected night with a man who made you feel something no one else ever has. You wished it wouldn’t have to end.

“Me either,” he said, making you realize you had said that out loud. But instead of feeling embarrassed at your slip, you giggled and leant into him further.

“I mean it,” you insisted. Javy’s smile had become familiar to you tonight, and the butterflies erupted in your stomach just as they had the last few hours when he flashed it in your direction. “You know, you’d make the perfect wedding date, if only you didn’t live so far away.”

He hummed in what you thought was agreement, but didn’t say anything. The look he gave you was contemplative, like there was something he was trying to figure out. “What?” you asked.

“When’s the wedding?”

You threw your head back in laughter, realizing what he was getting at. “Still a few months away. You’ll have completely forgotten about me by then, I’m sure.”

Javy's eyes sparkled as he pulled you even closer, his hand still holding yours tightly. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he replied, and the way his voice dropped sent shivers down your spine. "Seriously. When's the wedding?"

"The second weekend in May."

"If I'm not deployed, I'll be there."

You shook your head in disbelief as more giggles escaped, completely enraptured by this man. "Sure, Javy."

His smile softened and he raised a hand to cup your face, and you couldn't help but instinctively lean into his touch as his thumb brushed your skin. "I mean it. I want to be there. With you." You searched his eyes for a long moment, searching for anything other than the sincerity and tenderness staring back at you. You felt a rush of emotions when you found none. In that moment, looking at you the way that he was, he felt like so much more than just a stranger you met on a wild night out in New Orleans.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you raised on your toes and pressed your lips against his.

The kiss was soft at first, gentle and sweet, but it quickly deepened into something more passionate. For a moment, you hesitated, wondering if this was the right thing to do, but then you realized that you didn't care. You found yourself lost in him, and everything else faded away. All of the tension that had been building between the two of you that night was pushed into this one moment. You nearly stumbled at the intensity, but Javy just pulled you closer and kissed you harder. He tasted like gin and lemons and cherry from the purple drink you both had been drinking all night, and you realized it tasted even better from him.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, both panting heavily. You gazed at each other as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he brushed some of your hair out of your face.

You swallowed thickly before speaking, your voice trembling just slightly. "I want you there, too," you said, and you knew it was crazy, but you also knew you meant it.

A slow grin spread across his face, and before you could say anything else, Javy's lips were back on yours.

----------

Main Masterlist

Notes: I'm kind of feeling a part two? Maybe? I'm actually so in love with this man, it's unreal.

Thanks to @thedroneranger for the incredible banner, and to @roosterforme @mak-32 for their help, and to @sylviebell for catching an embarrassing amount of typos after I thought I was already done editing

#alli writes #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado #javy machado imagine #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado x oc #coyote x you #coyote x reader #javy machado appreciation

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oh-stars · 3 months

Text

United Front

Love is Co-Parenting

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1074 words | CW: N/A | Rating: T

Steve is on the steps when Eddie pulls up. He knows what he looks like, sitting on the bottom step, covered in flour and paint with a cigarette between his fingers. They don’t smoke anymore, not like they used to at least. At most, they’ll sneak a cigarette here and there on particularly stressful days and maybe they’ll have one socially, but they don’t go through the packs they used to.

Eddie’s frozen in the driver’s seat of his van, leaning forward to rest his chin and hands on the steering wheel. Steve can’t hear his thoughts for obvious reasons, but it’s clear as day that Eddie’s trying to weigh the costs of coming inside at all. It’s futile because Steve knows that an asteroid could crash into their home and bring on the end of time and Eddie would still come home to them.

The caution, however, is still noted and not without envy.

He takes a slow drag as Eddie finally crawls out of the van and walks up the path. “You didn’t call so I’m safe in assuming this isn’t a major crisis of the upside down variety?”

“Nope,” Steve says, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“And everyone is safe, sound, and healthy?” Eddie leans against the column lining the pathway.

“Yup.” Another deep drag, then Steve, the gracious partner that he is, hands over the cigarette to Eddie.

Eddie takes it, shoulders easing as his cheeks hollow. “Well?” He blows a ring of smoke toward the awning.

Steve reaches for the cigarette again and flicks off the ashes. It smolders in between his fingers, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips. “Henderson’s nephew–”

“You mean our son?” Eddie asks, eyebrow raised. “The boy we’re raising? The light of our life? Is that who you’re talking about?”

“Oh yes,” Steve says, exasperated. “Dustin’s corrupted our son. Therefore, right now, he’s Dustin’s Nephew.”

Eddie crosses his arms, a furrow in his brow. “Stevie–” His jaw clicks as he snaps it shut, a flush to his face. Steve’s glare must be more intense than he realizes. “Baby,” he tries again, softer as he kneels in front of Steve. “Are you actually mad or just tired?”

“Frustrated,” Steve corrects, “not mad.”

“Right, of course,” Eddie says.

Steve takes another drag, then offers it to Eddie. “I love him with everything in me, but he is never allowed to spend that much time with Dustin one-on-one again.”

Eddie blinks hard. “What the hell did he do?”

He motions to the flour and paint covering his shirt and body. “I left him alone for ten minutes to deal with the laundry and he made a goddamn volcano in our living room. Our living room, Eds.”

“A volcano?”

Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair, motioning with the hand holding the cigarette. “One of those paper fuckers that they make for science fairs. He made a giant ass one in our living room.”

Eddie winces as his hands fall to Steve’s knees. “How bad is it?”

“Not demodog in the fridge gross, but worse than the kool-aid water balloons the kids had for their graduation,” Steve drones.

“And what did you do with our boy?”

Steve puts out the cigarette and leans forward to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder, barely resisting the urge to hide in Eddie’s neck all together. “He’s sitting in time out at the kitchen table.”

Eddie sighs and rubs Steve’s back. A kiss to Steve’s pulse point takes away some of the tension in his body, but not all. He still has to go back inside and console Jamie, scrub the vinegar and soap from the couches, carpet, and all the walls, and then go on about his day like they didn’t nearly destroy the house.

“Think he’s upset?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Steve says as he pulls away with another sigh. He stands up and pulls Eddie with him. “He wasn’t crying when I came out here, but I think he was close.” Steve pauses, swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “Was that shitty? To just leave him there?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, baby, it wouldn’t have done either of you any good to stay in there while you were mad. He’s not a baby anymore–”

“Are you saying that to make me feel better?” Steve asks, hand on the doorknob. “Because that isn’t helping.”

“Does it help knowing I’ve got your back with this? Whatever you think is fair, I’m with you,” Eddie says.

Steve nods. “A united front.”

“Best there is.”

“Is he old enough to learn how to clean the carpets?” Steve asks as he pushes open the door.

Eddie’s gasp as he sees the carnage of their living room validates all of Steve’s anger in a single breath. “Yeah,” he squeaks. “And if he wasn’t before, he sure as hell is now.”

Steve doesn’t even look at it, heads straight for the dining table where Jamie is sitting in his chair with his head on the table as little sniffles echo from the hollow of his arms. His heart breaks at the sight, any remaining anger dissipating between the hand on the small of his back from Eddie stepping in close and the pure remorse from his baby.

“Jamie,” Eddie says calmly.

Jamie’s head pops up, revealing his big, brown eyes wide with tears pooling at his lashes, tear tracks and snot all along his blotchy face. “I’m sorry,” he cries, big sobs rushing through his body. He hops off his chair and stumbles toward Steve and Eddie.

Steve picks him up and kisses the side of his head. “You could have gotten really hurt, buddy,” Steve tells him. “That’s why I was so mad.”

“And if you had told Dad you wanted to make a volcano,” Eddie says as he wraps his arms around the both of them, “you guys could have made an even bigger one outside.”

Jamie picks up his head and swipes his hand under his nose. “Really?”

Steve thumbs away his tears and uses his own shirt to wipe away the snot. “Maybe not today, but yes, we could have eventually.”

There’s a bigger conversation to be had and a living room to clean, but it doesn't seem as intimidating as it was when Steve went to sit on the porch. Not with Eddie standing with him and their son safe and sound.

---

Thank you @lady-lostmind

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie big bang #steddielovemonth #ohstars posting challenge #this is set in the same universe as the man that i could be #in case you were wondering #but its also a stand alone #its up to you

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byeoltoyuki · 6 months

Text

[21:35]

↳ Pairing: Jisung x reader

❧ Genre : roommates to lovers / fluff / smut

❧ Words : +2k

❧ Warnings: oral (f), riding, (jisung being a menace)

❧ Summary : You loved your roommate. You really did. But sometimes, the urge to strangle him was strong.

Prompt: “On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad do you want to kill me right now?” “I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties.”

A/N: This one was hiding in my notes for a while, I'm glad I'm finally done!

Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)

➺➺➺➺➺

You stared. And stared, for what seemed like eternity to Jisung, at the broken mug. You would think it was just a mug, nothing exceptional, not a big deal. Except it was, to you. The mug happened to be a present from one of your closest friends, a mug she had made especially for you. A mug she had made from scratch and painted all your favorite ghibli’s characters on it. A pretty, meaningful present. A mug that Jisung, your stupidly adorable roommate, also happened to love and borrow without asking. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if not for the fact that he was a clumsy mess, you knew one day an accident would happen.

And it did.

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?” Jisung asked, voice slightly shaking while laughing nervously. The two of you had been living together for the past two years and of course with time Jisung had discovered your marvelous temper. He knew it was about to get bad and the wish to run away was getting stronger with every passing, silent seconds. Except, he also couldn’t resist the urge to push at your buttons.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying desperately to keep your temper in check. You tried to tell yourself it was just a mug and that your friend would probably make another one if you asked, but you weren’t being particularly rational tonight.

Jisung took a few steps back, for safety reason, ready to sprint to his room. Just in case.

“I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties.”

“Oh come on!” Jisung whined, “I’m sorry!”

With one look at Jisung and you knew he was genuine but it didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, your irritation only flared.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” You took a dangerous step towards him, your hands on your hips - your whole demeanor screaming danger which made Jisung gulp nervously and nod his head. “I told you something like this would happen, didn’t I?” And then another step and another nod from Jisung.

“Tell my mom I love her!” Jisung hurried to say before starting to run for his life.

“Come back here you little shit!” You yelled after him and ran.

Jisung, despite being half scared for his life, was actually laughing and squealing as you tried to catch him, cursing him in the process. He grabbed the closest cushion and threw it at you in an attempt at slowing you. You dodged it easily.

“Come on, Y/N!” Jisung laughed, “You can do better than that.”

Someone had definitely a death wish. “You’re dead.”

“Only if you catch me.” He answered proudly and stuck his tongue which only riled you up some more. For someone who was scared of your outburst not longer than a minute, he was acting all brave and daring but maybe because seeing you in this state also amused him. He couldn’t help him.

You lunged for him and sadly missed. He dodged your arms with ease, moved behind you and playfully, someone was being bold tonight, slapped your ass.

“Han Jisung!”

“That’s me.”

“Don’t move and I promise you a nice and painless death.” You proposed, just in case.

Jisung in response chuckled and shook his head. “Catch me if you can then, darling.” And he winked.

The little shit. You tried to reach him, once more, confident and yet he dodged you again – you groaned, growing frustrated with your failures. Jisung was getting closer to his room and you knew, it was now or never. You gave it all and jumped right onto his back, making him fall on the floor, you with him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, “I think I’m going to die.”

“Such a drama queen.” You teased and leaned over to poke his adorable cheek.

“Please, have mercy.” He begged dramatically, trying to wriggle from under you to free himself but you pressed yourself only harder on his back.

As your hands were getting dangerously closer to his waist, he guessed right away what you were about to do: tickle him to death. There was no way he would let you do it. Not without a fight at least.

Jisung flipped you over with too much ease. You knew the boy had been spending some time at the gym with his friends, but you didn’t expect him to get so strong in such a short amount of time. You blinked, confused as he had your wrists pinned above your head, looking proud and smug as hell. Suddenly, you weren’t so angry anymore; quite the opposite. His proximity, the heat radiating from his body made you realize just how dangerous the situation you got yourself in was.

“Now, I guess, you should be the one begging for your life.” His smirk only grew as he leaned closer. Just a little more and his lips would be on yours and deep inside you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like.

It wasn’t a first for the two of you to play with fire, it happened too many times for the past few months. You didn’t know when things changed between you but it was slowly getting out of hand.

“You know I never beg.” You huffed in response, pretending not to be affected by his closeness.

If you thought your indifference would deter him, you were wrong. Jisung chuckled, unbothered. “Sure about that?”

Despite his words, Jisung let go of your wrists and pulled back to stare at you. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through the pretty head of his. Was he just playing around? Or was he hesitating to do something else? Something that could potentially change your relationship. It made you pause; did you want it to change? As you looked at his pretty face, you found your answer.

“Ji?” Gently, you touched his face which made his body jolt in surprise. “If you don’t kiss me right now, we’re going to have a problem.”

It was a wild guess. Maybe you misunderstood his intentions but you couldn’t resist the temptation any longer.

Jisung blinked slowly, once, twice, slowly proceeding your words and then, the next thing you knew he had his lips on yours.

“Fucking finally.” He growled against your lips, going absolutely feral with the taste of your lips. He had been dying to have a taste, to finally have you in his arms. “Do you know how long I have been waiting for this to happen?”

“And whose fault is that?” You bit playfully his lower lip and smiled.

Jisung pulled back and feigned offense. “Excuse me but you never showed any interest in me!”

No matter how much you wanted to defend yourself, Jisung was perfectly right. You could have showed more but you were scared. Jisung was a playful and touchy spirit by nature, whether it was with you or with others. You had seen him being close to many women before which only made you unsecure – you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. Until recently.

“Should we talk about it or are you going to fuck me?” You asked instead. Not that you didn’t want to talk about your feelings, but right now you wanted to feel all of him.

“We should talk.” Jisung, to your biggest surprise, said looking perfectly serious.

You gasped, scandalized and incredibly frustrated. He pulled back from you and got back on his feet. He outstretched his hand to help you to stand. Annoyed, you slapped his hand, refusing his help, because yes, you were that petty. There was no way you could have a normal talk while being so horny.

You ignored him and started walking towards your room, needing a moment to calm down. Jisung, however, had other plans for you. You barely stepped inside your room, he had you pinned against your door, looking smug.

“Damn baby, I didn’t know you could be so snappy when horny.” He teased.

The urge to kick him was strong but you stopped yourself on time. Instead, you glared angrily at him. Sadly, Jisung wasn’t fazed. He pecked the tip of your nose and laughed.

“I was joking. Of course I’m going to fuck you.” If it wasn’t for his hand slowly sliding along your body, you wouldn’t have believed him, not when he was messing with you.

Jisung didn’t hesitate. He slid on the floor, on his knees, his eyes still on you – you held your breath, unable to avert your eyes. He looked so good, on his knees just for you. How did you get so lucky, you still wondered.

He gently slid your short along with your panties, helping you to step out of it. The sight of your exposed pussy took his breath away. He licked his lips, thinking about all the ways he could have fun with you.

“Are you just going to stare or?” You mocked him and playfully nudge him with your knee.

In return, Jisung bit your knee, making you squeal in surprise. “Let the man enjoy the view!” That being said, he stopped holding back. The first lick of his tongue was hesitant, slow, just to have a taste – enough to make you close your eyes and throw your head back.

“Shit,” Jisung growled and grabbed your thighs tightly as he pushed his face even closer. “Just so you know, I’m going to spend hours head buried between your thighs.” And you wouldn’t complain.

Jisung was feasting on you, moaning in satisfaction. Your pretty moans were only pushing him to lick more, to suck harder – it wasn’t enough. He was already addicted and it was only the beginning.

“Fuck Ji.” You moaned and grabbed his hair, pushing his face as close as you could, wanting so badly to feel more of his tongue.

With every stroke of his sinful tongue, you felt the heat inside you getting more and more intense; you were burning with both need for a release and need for him to wreck you. The moment Jisung pressed his fingers inside you, you were a goner. No thoughts, only pleasure and Jisung.

“I can’t wait to be inside you, babe.” Jisung watched you from between your legs, absolutely loving how lost in pleasure you looked. Loving, memorizing how you moaned his name, how you pushed your hips, how you arched your back. You were just so beautiful and his. “Come for me, love. Pretty please.”

His begging was all it took for you to come apart, a silent scream leaving your lips.

Jisung pulled out his fingers and got back on his feet. Without breaking the eye contact, he licked his fingers, moaning at your taste. The sight was so sinful, so sexy, you could come again. You grabbed him by his t-shirt and pulled him into a bruising and needy kiss.

You broke the kiss only to push him gently towards your bed. Without a word you got rid of your last piece of clothes and for a moment Jisung stopped moving, his eyes on you. You would have felt shy if not for the way he was looking at you, biting on his lips – Jisung loved the view.

“All yours.” You told him.

Jisung took off his clothes and completely disregarded them somewhere on the floor before getting on the bed. You smiled proudly at him and admired his perfect body. Jisung was beautiful, whether it was his mind, his heart or his body.

“I really like you.” You confessed

Jisung only smiled at you, fondly. “All yours.” He repeated your own words.

Without hesitation, you joined him on the bed, straddling him.

“Gladly.” Your hands splayed across his chest, you slowly eased yourself down onto him, letting him stretch you, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. You both sighed in relief. It took you a moment to adjust before finally starting to move, slowly, enjoying the slow drag of his cock against your walls, enjoying Jisung’s soft groan as you moved.

“Fuck.” His curse a whisper. Jisung placed his hands on your hips; his grip strong and firm as he helped you to move.

“You feel so good.” You moaned

If at first Jisung accepted your slow and gentle rhythm, his needs got the best of him. He flipped you over with ease making you gasp in surprise and plunged back inside you. He set his own rhythm; fast and frantic. His thrusts were strong, reaching all the right spots that made you toes curl in delight.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He cursed, “You’re just so perfect, so good to me.”

“Ji,” You mewled, “Don’t stop.”

As if he could. He kissed you and you held him tightly against you, fingers digging into his back with so much strength you were sure it would leave marks and this thought alone made you convulse uncontrollably around him.

Jisung kept pounding into you, seeking his own release. He was close and yet he tried to resist, wanting to savor more of the moment, wanting to feel your walls around him. He just couldn’t have enough.

“Come for me, Ji.” You begged

Jisung exploded inside you will a groan, body shaking.

He pulled out slowly and you whined, still sensitive from your orgasm. He rolled to the side and instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. You stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other’s presence, your warmth.

“Do you think your friend can make us two mugs?” Jisung finally asked, smiling sheepishly at you.

You chuckled in response before planting a kiss on his chest. “If you beg her.” And smiled mischievously at him. “But first she’s going to beat the shit out of you.”

“Lovely.”

#stray kids #han #han jisung #stray kids smut #han smut #stray kids x reader #han x reader

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the-kr8tor · 8 months

Text

Epilogue

Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 10 <<<

3 years later.

Hobie lounges on the roof of his boat, a thick blanket under him, sunset bearing down on his form painting him in an orange glow, the heat from the sun melting him. Sweat dribbles on his temple, arms in full display, savouring the last days of summer. Waves laps softly at the sides of the boat, rocking him to a sleepy state. He looks content with his arm under his head, eyes closed, hand cold with condensation from his drink.

There's still that missing piece in his heart, longing and waiting. It's practically painless now, a dull ache whenever he sees remnants of you.

Late night calls through bleary eyes and tired muscles help wade him through it. With Letters slowing down, he doesn't seem to mind as long as he knows you're safe and happy wherever you go. But he can't help it whenever his heart seeks you out.

Hobie's finger grazes the pockets of his leather vest laying next to him. it's well worn and loved, cloth having indents and scars, a proof that he lived through it all. His pinky instinctively feels for the polaroid tucked inside, crinkled and folded a hundred times. With a soft smile on his lips when the mental image of it appears in his mind's eye. He Memorized every detail of it, from your tight grip on him to your grin under the dim light of his bedroom.

"Heard you're looking for a roommate"

Hobie opens his eyes lightning quick, elbows sitting him up from his position. He thinks he's still dreaming of you. Frozen, eyes glued to your familiar form yet different from what he's used to, from what he's learned by heart. The pictures you've sent don't do the real thing any justice.

Hands on your suitcases, you drop it theatrically when he rushes towards you. Elated, Hobie jumps off the roof with the same finesse of a cat. Arms outstretched, you giggle when his body reaches yours with a thud. He sweeps you off your feet, clinging, twirling you around.

His arms fit around you just like how you remembered it. Fingers tracing the muscles on his back, you take a big whiff of his scent, leather and citrus with something you don't quite recognize from before, yet it calms you all the same.

The embrace lasts for a hot minute, hands roaming, trying to remember how the other feels. Heartbeats syncing together once again.

Hobie resists the urge to pull away but the heat makes it difficult. Eyes glossy, he pulls away, still holding you as closely as the warmth could let him without suffocating you. He takes you in, taking all the new details to heart. Your eyes crinkling to a smile, the same ones that's currently doing the same to him.

You notice new lines on his young face, tracing it carefully with your thumb, his ring still on your middle finger, dutifully watching over you the entire time you were away.

"Hi, Wallace" you say through happy tears. Eyes shining bright.

"What?–How?...You?" He fumbles with his words. Chuckling, you get the desired reaction from him when you intentionally didn't tell him about you coming back home.

You're back to old habits, teasing him. "There's this thing called a plane, invented years ago I think– oof"

He doesn't let you finish your sarcasm laced sentence, pulling you back to his chest, warm hand behind your head, caressing, reminding him that you're back and not just some mirage from the heat.

You sigh in his hold, cheek right next to his steadying heartbeat, arms wrapped around his torso just like before.

"I'm home" you say softly, eyes tightly closed, breathing calm at his mere touch.

"For a visit?" He hopes.

You look up at him, a grin spreading on your lips, fingers looped around his necklace. "For good"

Cupping your face, calloused hands soft against your skin. You hold his hands right on top of his, kneading and tender.

"Welcome home" Hobie closes the distance, eyes fluttering shut, you don't miss a beat to kiss him back, lips moving with him. The touch you've both yearned for finally satisfied.

"Sorry, for making you wait" you say in between breathless kisses. He kisses you deeper, already missing you from the split second unlinking of lips.

You pick up where you left off, both changed yet it seems like time hasn't passed with every caress and kiss.

Breath hitching, you're more than ready to continue spending your life with him by your side again. You seep back in his marrow, staying there as long as he's willing to have you.

He smiles blissfully, heart finally full again.

A/N: Again, thank you all for the love! If you want more TTN! Hobie feel free to request, I'm more than happy to fulfill it! (I will forever miss this story)

Let me know your thoughts! Ly ❤️

#thread the needle epilogue #thread the needle #thread the needle series #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #spider punk #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you

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magnoliahwrites · 3 months

Text

Lean On Me (Don’t Knock Me Over)

or: harry is a touring musician and you're here to interview him

feat: childhood friendship, flashbacks, friends to enemies to lovers,mention of panic attack/anxiety/puking

note: this is part one of a three-shot. Side note: I made up names for harry’s band, it’s an up and coming pop punk band so there’s that

Much like most things in life, when the paper slid through your desk, you immediately shoved it under the outgoing mail box.

anything that causes you stress immediately went there, a future problem for yourself.

It wasn't until the night before the show, when your manager turned best friend, Cindy sat in front of you tapping her new manicure on the desk in front of you that you even remembered it.

"I just don't see the big deal," she huffs, stopping the tapping of her nails long enough to push her blonde hair out of her eyes, "like, you two were kids. He probably doesn't even remember you. And besides, I have three people lined up who would literally kill you for this chance."

You groan, resisting the urge to fling your body on the floor and ahve a full body temper tantrum.

Instead, you act like an adult and throw a mini fit, throwing your head back and shoving the papers away from you.

"he'll remember me." you groan, rubbing your temples, "It was a small town."

"Good," Cindy shrugs, "Make him regret it, or whatever."

she pauses, and her voice drops, some of the hard that radiates off of her melts away for a second.

"I don't see what the big deal is still," she says quietly, "What happened?"

You remember the first time you heard him on the radio.

Driving down a crowded street in Cindy's car (the kind you could never even think of affording) the sun roof down, your hand out the window as the radio blasts, the sun beating down on your hand.

"This is 93.9 playing the hottest hits of the summer! To begin, we have a new single from Kennedy Curse, sure to get stuck in your head. They're new to the scene, but singer-"

Cindy all but squeals, leans forward to turn the dial on the radio up louder, "I love this band. l've been trying to get an interview with them for weeks.”

You snort as you drum your thumbs on the steering wheel, "Can't imagine it would be hard to get an interview with them-"

"Shh!" She hushes you, leans forward and turns the volume up until the car shakes under you.

"Chipped paint, Carol's gonna turn into dust-"

it was a reflex, a knee jerk reaction, something you couldn't stop. before you even knew what you were doing, you were leaning forward in your seat, slamming your hand against the volume button, immediately a silence falls over the two of you.

Cindy knows you've mentioned in passing an ex boyfriend, a singer, but haven't really elaborated on it. Now, it seems like you don't need to.

"So you'll do it?"

Cindy is all but squirming in her seat as she brings you back to the current.

The sigh is all the confirmation Cindy knows, letting out an ear piercing squeal again, "You won't regret it, i promise!"

She gets up to make her an escape, mentions something about transportation-

"I'll do it, but there has to be rules in place-" You're rubbing your temples, a headache already on the horizon, but Cindy isn't listening, long gone as she stops everyone in the hallway to mention the interview with the Kennedy Curse.

Backstage, harry fixes his hair in a broken mirror.

Something about ten years of bad luck, but he rations that's the problem for the person who broke it, not him-

A stage hand, over worked and underpaid, sticks his head backstage: "harry, Ten minutes.

Someone's here to see you-"

And the show is on.

The smirk finds his way to the corner of his lips, and it's game on. the harry who had a panic attack in the back room five minutes ago is long gone, definitely didn't puke into the garbage can earlier because of the nerves. Instead, it's now replaced by the harry he wants everyone to see; confident, cocky, bold-

"Fans already-"

And he rounds the corner and almost hits you with the door.

he speaks first. A reflex, like he's been searching for the name for months or years, waiitng for it to fall onto his lips again-

he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it he speaks before he can stop himself, before he can hate himself for it.

"Birdie."

The low whistle follows, some bird card be always associated with the nickname, for you always singing with him-even if you insisted you were bad.

it falls flat, feels wrong.

Not the cute nickname it was before, when you two would lie in the shared two sized mattress, harry’s feet falling off the edge of the bed, the sheets thrown over both of your heads for security;

“Birdie," he'd say, his voice low, eyelids heavy. even half asleep, the whistle followed, "I promise, to keep your side of the bed warm, always."

Under the sheets was vows between the two of you, the sillier the better, most of the time, but the hushed voices always told the truth.

Instead, you spoke back, his fingers over your lips, calloused from the non stop practicing, the yanking the garage door open at all hours of the night to practice: "I could find you in a crowd."

He laughs; it's lazy and low, like you both have all the time in the world, and he opens his mouth to say something about his height, but it lays heavy in the air as he kisses the crown of your head:

"And i'll always find you, Birdie."

Seeing him is jarring, to say the least.

The last visit was less than good, yelling and tears (from both of you) things said in the heat of the moment that keeps you both up and tossing and turning-

"It's just my normal name now, thanks." You say quickly, hoping it's dark enough backstage that he can't see the red spread across your face.

"Right," he nods, smirks as he leans against the wall, crosses his arms over his chest, "Well, birdie, I gotta say, you got a lot of nerve to wanna hear me sing after you tossed us into the gutter."

You snort, "Still the victim. i see nothings changed."

"Hilarious," he laughs without humor, takes a step toward you, eyes narrowed, that stupid fucking smirk still pulls at the side of his lips, "I see you're still following me around, hm?"

"God, I can't say I missed this. You're still an insufferable asshole-"

"An asshole you paid to see. So tell me, birdie, which of my songs do you like, hm? Still-"

You want to smack the smirk off his face. You dig your fingernails into your palm into you're sure they're going to bleed, leaving little half crescent moons in the middle of your palms, the same ones he use to study, trace over and commit to memory, kiss them better.

In some sick way, you were hoping you'd see each other and he'd apologize, come home-

"I'm just here for the interview," You shake the VIP lanyard around your neck in his face, "And then you never have to see me again."

His eyes dart to the lanyard and back to you, and for a second, he looks almost lost, like something hangs in the air that he wants to say-

"You have five minutes."

You snort, take the pencil from behind your ear,

"I'll make it two. We won't act like these are some deep songs of yours or anything-"

A local nobody band is opening, the drums are heavy and loud backstage, and the ponding begins the second you open your mouth, like it's planned.

harry leans in closer, grabs you by your elbow,

"Let's make a deal, birdie."

You act like you don't hear the low whistle fall out after the nickname.

"Listen-"

he cuts you off, "You listen to us and i'll do the interview, no bitching, after the show. we can go to the bus-"

the look you throw him is irritated and he huffs, holds his hands in the air, "Fine. I'll take you to a fuckin' restraaunt. I'll be on my best behavior, i'll have your manager eating out of your hand after this interview. Scouts honor."

He makes a show of crossing over his heart, holds his hand open in the air.

The smirk never leaves his face, even when your eyes narrow as he sets his hand between you two.

"Deal, birdie?"

You don't speak, eyes narrowed, but your hand slides into his like it never left.

It feels like you're making a deal with the devil.

#magnolia writes #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles one direction #one direction #one direction fic

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silverofthunder · 4 months

Text

Secondo (Papa Emeritus II) x GN!Reader

🔞 MDNI 🔞

summary: There wasn’t coldness or softness – it was more like ’you know how this goes’. That’s how it had been ever since you two had started to sleep together.

content: 1.2k words, gn!reader, smut, hurt/comfort, romance, Google translated Italian (so mistakes are possible), NSFW

Oh gosh, I did it, I actually wrote a bit of smut. It's been years since I've done that and I wasn't supposed to do it now but my hands... slipped. A part of me is kind of proud that I stepped out of my usual zone but I'm also scared to publish this. But here we go...

You were again in Secondo’s bed, the man holding you in place by your hips as he thrusted into you while his lips were devouring your neck, mouthing along the line of your collarbone. As his lips traveled up to your neck, his teeth scraped your sensitive skin and a low, breathy sound escaped from your lips as he reached the spot right under your ear.

Your skin felt burning hot, the thin layer of sweat covering your body, your nails digging into Secondo’s back as he sped up and you could feel yourself getting closer to climax. Secondo’s moves were on the right side of roughness – just how you liked it. It was easy to get drunk on that feeling – him holding you firmly, kissing you like he owned you.

Secondo murmured something in Italian and your hazy mind could only guess what he was saying. However, his low, throaty voice made you melt, your heart pound in your chest and you whined as he quickened his thrusts even more. You could feel your hands start to shake, nails scratching Secondo’s back and it only took a few more thrusts before you came, your back arching, moan echoing in the room as your orgasm tingled through you.

Secondo finished inside you only a moment later with a low grunt, his thumbs pressing into your hips and a part of you hoped they would leave a mark on your skin, even a faint one. But you knew there would be no marks.

And then, way too soon, became the slight chillness as Secondo pulled away. You resisted the urge to reach out and pull him close, instead you opened your eyes and saw Secondo standing beside the bed, looking at you. His face paints were slightly smudged and the look in his eyes made your heart sting unpleasantly. There wasn’t coldness or softness – it was more like ’you know how this goes’.

That’s how it had been ever since you two had started to sleep together.

Slowly you got up from the bed, your legs feeling a bit jelly, and you did your best to ignore the feeling as Secondo’s cum leaked out of you. It made a mess while you gathered your clothes and you grimaced when you finally put the clothes on. You knew you had to leave, though you didn’t want to. It had been months – you weren’t sure how many exactly – since this all started and along the way you had realized that you wanted more.

And it seemed that you were the only one wanting more.

Secondo had covered his lower body with a towel, still looking at you as you stepped closer to him. He had looked always a bit intimidating to you but it was a part that made him intriguing. His eyes never left yours and you reached out to touch his arm, a move you knew was a bit risky. However, Secondo didn’t pull away yet his brows furrowed and you bit your lower lip.

”Why are you doing this?” you finally asked. Secondo let out a sigh, moving his gaze to the side, and for a fleeting moment he looked a bit pained. Then the usual, unreadable expression was back and your heart leapt in your chest.

”Go,” he said.

This time you weren’t having that. You weren’t going to leave until you got some answers.

”No,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady. ”I don’t want to be treated like this anymore.”

Secondo turned his gaze back to you, shaking his head.

”You’re too good for me,” he spoke quietly.

You blinked, not quite sure what Secondo meant by that. Surely it couldn’t be…?

”How so?”

With a long sigh, Secondo took a hold of your hand, removing it from his arm but keeping your hands joined. You studied Secondo’s face and it seemed his features had now softened. His expressions were always kind of hard to read and while it could be annoying as hell on some moments, it was still one of the qualities that was fascinating.

”Because you’re still with me,” Secondo answered. ”You still keep agreeing to this all even though it hurts you.”

You let out a small, desperate laugh-like noise.

”Yes, it hurts, but this seems to be the only way I can have you. Or at least a part of you.”

Secondo shifted, lifting his free hand up and for a moment he seemed to think what to do with it until he hesitantly settled it under your chin. It made your heart ache and you had to close your eyes to fight back tears. This was new – Secondo hadn’t been like this before. He hadn’t wanted any physical contact after the sex nor had he talked much after either.

”I haven’t much to offer to you,” Secondo said, a hint of sadness in voice.

You opened your eyes, meeting Secondo’s gaze and it was enough for the tears to flow. The usual hard edge had disappeared from the man’s eyes, replaced with something much softer. Longing, maybe, and fear. Your heart ached even more and it felt hard to breathe.

”I wanted you close, but…” Secondo paused, sliding his hand to your cheek, using his thumb to brush away your tears. ”I didn’t want to get too attached.”

”But you did,” you managed to say and Secondo nodded, offering the faintest of smiles.

”Mi dispiace,” he said, now cupping your face with his both hands. ”I hoped that if I kept being… distant after, it would be easier for me. But it wasn’t.”

You hummed, lifting your hand to Secondo’s bare chest and giving him a light shove.

”Oh, you foolish man,” you said affectionately, running your fingers through the hairs on Secondo’s chest. ”You should know that you’re very lucky that I like you.”

Something that resembled a smile passed Secondo’s lips again.

”See? You’re too good for me.”

You cocked your head to the side, leaning more into Secondo’s touch.

”I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

”I know,” Secondo stated, leaning closer and pressing his lips against your forehead. Your heart fluttered at the sudden act of affection – it was such a huge contrast to the atmosphere that had been between you a moment ago.

Somewhere deep down you had known that there was this softer side in Secondo, too.

”Can you finally let me in?” you asked, pushing Secondo gently a bit farther and tapping his chest, knowing he would understand what you meant with the gesture. This all had become a mess due to fact that you hadn’t communicated properly and it had caused you both to get hurt.

”You already have me,” Secondo said, his voice soft, and you knew it was a promise. That everything would be okay eventually.

With a sigh you wrapped your arms around Secondo, burying your head in the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. It was comforting to finally have this, the closeness you had longed for every time you had been with Secondo.

”I’m sorry,” the man then whispered, voice thick with emotion this time. You hugged him tighter, pressing a light kiss on his neck. Secondo let out a light gasp, his hands settling on your sides, squeezing them gently.

And then you finally heard the words you had wanted to hear so many times before.

”Per favore, resta con me.”

#secondo x reader #papa emeritus ii x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

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