#thank you staff for this panel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bahrtofane · 3 months

Text

Jude misses his spanish class, and that somehow ends with the both of you stuck in a dark elevator, legs tangled and annoying each other till help comes

Word count - 3.5K+

Watch it - ur trapped in an elevator with jude, lights go out, you accidentally sock him, fluff tho hehehe

a/n - shout out to my bff best plooki for sending me the last jude pic, its what inspired this whole thing. nmout 3lik kho

—--

Jude is late to spanish class (again) so he's forced to sit for the staff ones instead. his mom will kill him if he misses any more, and his teammates will only tease him more. With the amount of promotional content and youtube videos he has to film soon, he literally doesn’t have the time to skip another class.

The only open seat is by you in the far corner, so he slides in as discreetly as he can. Which turns out isn’t all that discrete when all eyes are on him from the moment he steps into the room but it’s whatever. He'll live.

He pulls out his ipad and takes notes like the good student he is and pretends not to notice your gaze on him. He sits like such a teenage boy, legs spread and arms dangling over the table.

You haven’t been with Madrid all that long, you came along as an intern, eager to find your footing. Having one of the players all up next to you during class was not something you saw coming, you’ve met maybe one or two of them, after you got lost and ended up in the training facilities and they so graciously led the way out of the maze.

You’ve honestly been so busy with just getting settled you completely forgot the players existed. And here Jude is.

You stick your head back to your notes and hunker down for the hour left of spanish. You don't miss his stray gazes that land on you.

-----

Jude is a quiet guy you learn. He chews his bottom lip and blinks a little harshly at times. He's a pretty standard run of the mill guy and you try to treat him as such. He leaves you be, letting you have your space and pays attention to whatever the professor is saying in favor of talking to anyone.

When class is over you gather your things, slipping out from behind him and head to the elevator. Why the class is on the top floor you have yet to figure out. You like this elevator anyway, it's down the hall from the main big one that everyone crowds into, usually empty. Even though it lacks the big windows that overlook the pitches.

You see Jude jog to the elevator, you slide your hand out ,holding the doors open for him and he smiles at you in thanks, you smile back. It's silent save the hum of the elevator moving down.

Until it screeches to a halt, jolting the both of you so fast you land on the floor, legs tangled, things strewn all over the floor. Jude looks away while he picks himself up, helping track down your pens that roll across the floor. When you smooth your clothes down and find your footing, another jolt rocks the small metal box you're in.

Jude instinctively reaches out to steady himself, his hand landing on the railing beside you. You lurch forward and almost land right on him again. But you manage to keep your composure, and footing. Thank god.

"What in the world?" Jude asks, brows furrowing.

"I... I'm not sure," you reply, your heart still racing from the amusement park ride you never signed up for. Does Madrid not keep their elevators up to date on what is going on.

You both glance around the elevator, trying to assess the situation, and half waiting for another lurch. It's eerily quiet, and you notice the emergency button panel is dimly lit.

"Should we... press the emergency button?" you suggest tentatively, eyeing the panel.

"Probably our best bet" Jude agrees, reaching out to press the button. After a moment, a crackly voice comes through the intercom,

"Hello? Is someone in need of assistance?" a nasally voice comes to life. She sounds like your aunt kinda.

"Yeah, the elevator stopped suddenly, and we're not sure what's going on," Jude explains.

“Ah okay, which elevator? There should be a number and letter over the doors.”

“2C.” you real aloud.

"Perfect thank you. We’ll have people get to you as soon as we can. Please remain calm and stay where you are," the voice responds before the intercom falls silent again.

You exchange a look with Jude, both of you silently hoping that help arrives soon. The minutes tick by slowly, and the silence in the elevator becomes almost suffocating.

"So... Do you have any plans for after this?" Jude asks, breaking the silence. Even if its a little awkward.

You shake your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not really. Just some studying, I guess. What about you?"

Jude shrugs. "Probably just head back to my place if they don't need me. Training was pretty intense this morning."

You nod, "Sounds hectic."

"Yeah, it can be," Jude admits, scratching the back of his neck. "But it comes with the territory, I guess.

You fall into a silence again, playing with the hem of your shirt. Jude tucks his ipad under his arm and sighs deeply. Now that you take a good look at him, it looks like he booked it right from training. Slides and socks on, madrid shirt and shorts. Interesting.

You move to push the button again after what feels like ages, but this time the voice doesn't answer.

“What the..” you mumble. You reach for your phone but as luck would have it there is no connection.

Jude slides to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and trying his luck on his phone.

“No signal either huh.” he grumbles.

“Nope, we really just have to wait on them then.”

“I hope they hurry it up, no offense.”

You shrug, ”none taken.” sliding to take a seat on the floor opposite to him.

Little do you know you're about to spend the next 4 hours in this elevator together.

—-

It turns out there is only so much small talk you can make in an hour with a total stranger. Trust, you know.

After telling your life story, and him his, you’ve both run out of things to say. So you sit, drumming against the metal walls, taking turns pressing the help button and being greeted with the sweet sound of silence each time.

“What the actual hell are they doing.” Jude groans.

“Ignoring us.”

You just might lose your mind. Your legs are starting to go numb, and you watch Jude grow more agitated as time presses on. Thankfully there's been no more lurches downward, a win is a win. You get up periodically to stretch your legs out, checking your phone, reorganizing your bag, playing rock paper scissors, telling each other stories.

Jude is a silly guy, very competitive even after your 10th round of tic tac toe.

“I win again.” He cackles.

You wave him off, “Yeah yeah it’s just luck.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he smiles.

He goes back to the red button, and once again there’s no answer. You’re half way to losing your mind. How do they just forget about you here? You try texting people, and nothing goes through. Jude walks around the little space, arm raised and pointing his phone up in hopes of catching a signal.

“Oh wait I think- never mind. Not even one bar will hold in here.” He slumps back down against the wall.

“I actually can’t believe they’re not answering.” You groan, head in your hands.

“Me neither. “

You resort to looking through your phone for any games to pass the time. But you need a signal for just about all of them. Might as well clear out your photos right? Jude joins, scooting next to you.

“Don't mind if I watch?”

You shake you head, “nah, just getting rid of old pictures.��

He nods.

Now you just have to be triple careful of not accidentally swiping through any embarrassing pictures. You don't thankfully, instead your room back home pops up, after you redecorated it. Zidane jersey hanging off your wall.

Jude perks up at this, “Zidane fan?”

“Very big one.”

He smiles, “me too.”

“I've heard. What's he like?”

“Zidane? Hm, he's well, elegant. Classy. He's a calm guy.”

You nod, tucking your phone back inside your pocket, turning to face him, “have you seen him play in a charity match with ronaldo?”

He laughs ,”yeah the one with that insane title, fat old ronaldo does hat trick.”

You giggle, “that's the one.”

He hums, leaning his head back on the wall and you fall into silence again.

More time passes and you don’t think you have it in you to reorganize your bag for another time.

“I have an idea.” you declare as you move into the second hour.

Jude raises a brow.

“Might as well do our Spanish homework right?”

“I might die.” he dead pans.

You roll your eyes, “its better than doing nothing.”

“Nu uh, no way. I choose nothing.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug.

10 minutes later Jude sits down next to, pulling his ipad out and getting to work. You smile, “see, I told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, “can you help me on number 4?”

You do, leaning against him and walking him through the conjugation of each word, your fingers brush against the iPad screen and you hope he doesn't notice how you blush.

Hours in an elevator with Jude bellingham what is this a bad fanfic plot?

You end up finish the pages of homework side by side and Jude smiles

“That wasn't half bad actually, thanks for the help.”

“No problem. We make a pretty good team huh?” you tease.

He snorts, “I guess so.”

It turns out Jude is really bad at staying in once place, he does anything but keep still, throwing his slides at the buttons periodically, and one even hits the help button, this time the voice answers.

“Hello?” it's a completely different voice his time, male.

“Thank god hello.” Jude scrambles to get up properly, and you follow suit, leaning closer to the little speaker.

“I'm sorry?”

“We've been in this elevator for what, 2 hours now and no ones been answering the call button? Fucking ridiculous.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, we've been short staffed and I clocked in a few minutes ago.”

“For fucks sake, thats great and all but can you get us out?”

There's a pause, and for a second you think they're going to hang up and there will be no hope. You will die in this elevator.

Luckily for you the voice comes to life again, “would you like us to call the fire department?”

“What do you think?” Jude dead pans.

“We will keep you updated, but for now it's looking like a wait time of 45 minutes to an hour. “

Both of you groan, dramatically falling to the floor.

“You'd think Madrid would have better staffing,” he rubs his eyes.

“You think.” you agree.

“Im so gonna complain about this.” he squints his eyes at the buttons, almost like he's threatening them.

“Hey it could be worse, you could have missed a game.”

“Very true.”

He chews his lip before turning to you, a glint in his eyes, “Wanna play hot hands?” he tries.

“Sure why not.”

You shuffle so you're facing him once again, You're up first, palms up while Jude hovers his hands palm down over yours, and wow are his hands huge, completely covering your own. The name of the game is to manage to slap his hands faster than he can move them away.

And so it begins.

Unsurprisingly, Jude has keen reflexes, and you only shake your head at him.

“I'm at an unfair disadvantage, whereas VAR.”

He giggles, “VAR or no var, you're losing,” he shrugs.

It's just enough of a distraction to get you your first win.

“Lets gooo.” you celebrate.

“VAR immediately, time wasting, yellow card, red card, extra time.”

You smile, “you're just mad I won.”

“Yeah you won unfairly. “He sulks.

“Yeah yeah, your turn.”

He sighs dramatically, but puts his palms up regardless.

You're too focused on his hands, skittering at any movement, so much so you end up jumping and throwing your hands out so fast you slap him. Uh oh.

“Oh my god i'm so sorry, are you okay.” you reach out and cradle his face, a little red but nothing too bad thank god. You almost took out Madrid's star boy, you're just an intern, you do NOT have the money to fund any legal cases.

You don't even notice he's laughing, giggles bursting from his lips while you watch on. His eyes are big, oh my god, he's got those big brown beautiful eyes. People weren't kidding. He's even more handsome in person. You want to kiss him. Oh yeah you're holding his face, you drop your hands away and roll your eyes, trying to play off the blush that's spanning your face.

“I'm fine, don't worry. You got a mean arm, ever think of being a goalie?” he teases.

“I'm going to be Barcas goalie. How about that.” you shoot back, though there's no real bite to your words.

He only laughs harder, “hot hands really makes you competitive huh.”

“It wasn't my fault okay, you moved too fast.”

He only shakes his head, “I think you're the sore loser.”

“No but seriously, are you good?”

He waves you off, “nah i'm good seriously, you're fine.”

You sigh in relief.

He snorts, “no more hot hands for you.”

You squint at him, “I'm going to sleep.”

You make a pillow out of your bag and try to nap. Might as well at this point. Jude seems to share a similar idea as he lays down opposite to you, tucking his arms under him and screwing his eyes shut.

It turns out sleeping on the floor on an elevator is extremely uncomfortable, and you get about 5 minutes of shut eye before Jude somehow has his legs rolled into yours.

“ ‘M Sorry,” he mumbles. But you don't say anything, wiggling your feet back under his and trying to get some shut eye.

—--

At the turning of the third hour you get woken up by the crackle of the magic voice in the wall, “the wait is up about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“What's taking so long,” you huff, eyes still blurry from your sleep.

“We apologize for the delay but there's a back up in call logs and-”

“Yeah we get it you're understaffed whatever. Just please hurry up.” Jude bites back, nearing closer and closer to you.

The voice fizzles away and the sleep has worn off you, enough so to realize he's almost spooning you. You sit up, but Jude remains as he is, breathing soundly as he uses his hands to cover the harsh elevator lights that beat down on him. You're surprised the lights haven't-

You spoke too soon. Way way too soon. The lights go out within an instant and you almost scream, jolting against Jude.

This stirs him awake again, and he's oh so confused at the lack of lights. The secondary elevators are great, but there are no windows. Just solid metal on all ends. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness.

“Jude?’

You hear shuffling, “Yeah, I'm right here don't worry. “

“This is kinda freaky now.” you trail off.

“Hey, we'll be fine. Look on the bright side, it's easier to sleep.”

You snort, “Yeah guess so,” But the ease doesn't wear off of you.

“Here,” you feel Jude’s hands reach for yours. Feeling for them in the darkness till they're laced together. “Now it's not so bad right?”

You can feel your face heat up,“Not bad at all.”

“How sick would hot hands in the dark be? Just think-”

“Absolutely not.” you sigh.

He giggles again, teasing you is surprisingly very very fun for him. This is the most fun he's had all day. Every time you turn away while you blush only fuels him to tease you more. Out of all the people to be stuck in here with, he thinks he got pretty lucky with it being you.

But as sweet as you are, the situation only seems to get worse. He uses his free hand to feel for the button again, and the voice comes back.

“The lights just went off. I hope they're on their way.“ Jude speaks.

“The wait is about an hour.” the speaker says.

“My fucking god.” he sighs.

“Were supposed to wait in the dark, for an hour?” you can't believe it.

The voice mumbles another apology and Jude only tells them to go away if they’re going to be completely and utterly useless. And alone you two go.

—-

You start singing by the fourth hour. You're completely tangled in Jude’s legs, unable to even see what's in front of you in the pitch black darkness, but you can feel him. And it keeps you grounded, keeps away the panic. He pats your back while he sings stupid songs, trying to cheer you up and mind off of the situation as much as he can. The teasing doesn't stop, and you're starting to like it. (You liked it from the beginning).

If someone told you you'd be cuddling Jude Bellingham on the floor of an elevator in the darkness after class, you're pretty sure you'd call the nearest psych ward. But here you are. You think you’re sitting sideways on his lap, while he sits back to the wall, your arms tangled. You've started to trace shapes on his arms.

Who knew an elevator would be the perfect place to bond.

“You smell nice.” Jude mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You hum,” thank you.”

“You know, this is pretty nice. You're a good cuddler.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. my rooms a better spot though.”

You try not to freeze up too much, but you're sure he can feel you go rigid next to him.

“I bet it is,” you mumble into his shoulder

He laughs, easy and light, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“You cant even see me it's literally pitch black in here.”

“So?”

“You're silly Jude.”

“So i've been told”

You get comfy again, sliding a hand to his back and scratching lightly.

He melts within an instant, “that actually feels really nice…” he trails off, leaning against your shoulder.

“You’re like an overgrown puppy, “ you laugh.

He only snorts, leaning forward to allow you better access to his back.

—--

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the voice comes to life, and Jude is not in the mood.

“What is it?”

“The wait is now 10 to 15 minutes, please step back from the doors and do not be alarmed when the fire department needs to possibly force the doors open.”

“Finally.” You sigh, squishing your face into his neck.

“Finally.” He confirms.

After a few minutes. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the elevator and voices chattering.

“Alright guys, sit tight, should be a few minutes and you’ll be outta here.” A voice says on the other end.

“Alright.” Jude replies, gently getting up and separating from you.

“We’re gonna need you guys to step back.”

You do as much, trying to feel for your bag to kick it away from the door.

Jude rests a hand on your hip and you smile, even if you can't see it you bet he's doing the same.

The doors are manually pried open, and you're greeted by the sweet sweet faces of firemen and security.

"Are you two okay?" the fireman asks, helping you both out of the elevator.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just glad to be out of there," you say with a sigh of relief.

As you step out into the hallway, you and Jude exchange grateful smiles. Unsurprisingly people crowd to him and make sure he's all good. He waves them off instead pointing them in your direction. You insist you're all good, no injuries. After thanking everyone you slip away and begin walking down the hall. After all, you don't expect him to actually mean anything there. You just got stuck together for a while, and got comfortable. That's all.

You think this is the 4th floor? Down the stairs you go.

The man is full of surprises. He catches up to you, shouting your name and closing the door to the stairs behind him.

“Had enough of me?”

“Eh four hours seems like enough.” you shrug.

He rolls his eyes, “so you don't give me your number then if i ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely. And I don't even have a Spanish number yet, I'll have to get yours.”

(you want his number sooo bad you might explode, this can't be real.)

“Would you like to get my number then?” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy, ‘only if you want you know you don't have to just because the whole elevator thing i mean-”

You cut him off with a kiss to the check, “I'd love to get your number Jude. And thanks for being so nice in there.”

He looks to the ground, playing with his hands, “yeah anytime.”

You hand him your phone and he takes a contact picture right there, with the most obnoxious contact name to match.

‘the best elevator buddy Jude <3’

You smile, “I'll text you when I can, yeah?”

He hums, waving you off, slipping the door open with his foot and setting off in the opposite direction. What a day huh?

722 notes · View notes

huskersbooze · 2 months

Text

Bambi

Alastor x Reader

Summary : Alastor returns from his outing one day, finding a guest lying on the floor, unconscious, in front of the Hazbin Hotel. Untrue to Alastor fashion, scaring most of the staff members, he decides to keep the fascinating creature in his broadcasting studio, and when she wakes up, she's forgotten everything, even her name. And when Alastor starts calling her nicknames in the mean time, he accidentally gives her one that she ends up growing attached to..

Warnings : N/A

Pairing : Alastor x F!Reader (Gn!Reader here, M!Reader here)

Additional tags : Fluff(?), mentions of amnesia, Alastor actually being nice?!

Word count : 1.06k

“Wonderful, just wonderful! You’re awake!”

A staticky voice drew you out of your thoughts. Surprised, you snapped your neck towards the sound, and a rather tall and slim figure was right at your face.

“Charming, I haven’t seen you around here before!”

You flinch as the figure leans closer, causing them to back away slightly.

“Who.. who are you?”

“Pleasure to meet you, dear, just a pleasure! I'm Alastor, the Radio Demon. And who might you be?"

"I..” You reply. “I don't know."

He seems taken aback by your response slightly, but his smile doesn't falter. Instead he cocks his head to the side and blinks at you.

"What's your name?"

You stay quiet for a while until you give an uncertain head tilt back to him.

"I don't know.."

The grin still very much glued to his face, he leaned a bit closer to you, voice dropping to a more hushed tone.

"Darling, you don't remember your name, or you don't know your name?"

"I.. I don't remember." You fight the urge to start fidgeting with your hands, looking down to the ground as your memories become a hazy blur.

"You don't remember? Your name? Anything?"

"No.."

He doesn't seem to let his bright smile falter at that, although his expression shifts slightly towards curiosity.

"Quite the fascinating creature you are." He blinks a couple of times before he shifts to lean against what seemed to be a broadcasting panel, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Intriguing, really. Do you know what happened to your memory?"

"No.. not really."

"Well, that's unfortunate." The Radio Demon lets out a chuckle, static still laced in his laugh. "It seems you're in a bit of a dilemma, aren't you, Bambi?"

"Bambi.. I like it." You reply.

"Pardon me?" He raises his eyebrow at you, surprised at your statement.

"Bambi. I like the sound of that."

He laughs, a smile sounding from him again. There was something so unsettling yet alluring about him.

"That is rather fitting, I suppose. Bambi.. it's not a bad name." He thinks for a few seconds, stroking his chin as he considers. "And I suppose I'll need something to refer to you if you're staying. It fits you.."

"Staying?"

"Where do you think you are right now, darling? You certainly didn't expect me to leave you out there with your memories wiped with nowhere to go?"

"I.."

"Surely you hoped to stay for accommodation and basic necessities?" The Radio Demon asks, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "You've lost your memory after all, have you not?"

"Yes.." You hesitantly replied. Sure, you've lost your memory, but you weren't stupid enough to follow a random Radio Demon around without knowing him.

"I don't bite, Bambi. I can guarantee everyone at the hotel will treat you with the respect you deserve. And if they don't, all you need to do is let me know and I'll handle them for you."

"Hotel?"

"My, my, you really are a clueless little deer." Alastor uses a cane-typed staff to ruffle your hair. “So fragile and just the cutest little thing.”

“Thank.. you?”

Alastor tilts his head to the side curiously.

"It seems as if my teasing isn't upsetting you. How strange." He merely comments. “Oh, to understand your lost little mind.”

You carefully scan the room. It seemed to be a broadcasting studio, the room simply in red. Totally wasn’t sinister at all.

“So, what do you say, Bambi? We wouldn't mind providing you with all the necessities you need for now.”

“Necessities?”

Alastor chuckles again.

"Like, a bed, for example! Or, oh, I'm sure you'd want new clothes as well, right? And... if that's not enough, we do serve breakfast the next day. If you want food, that is..."

“Jambalaya..” You mutter, mostly to yourself as you’re lightly lost in thought.

Alastor’s grin widens a little, his ears perking slightly at the sudden mention of his favourite food.

"I can't say that I was expecting that, but... yes, we actually do have jambalaya on the menu for lunch. How'd you know that?"

“Oh, sorry.. I was just talking to myself. It’s my favourite food.” You stifle a blush as you let out an embarrassed smile.

“Ah, so you do remember some things, Bambi.” He raises his voice in curiosity, walking towards a trapdoor in the floor. “Come along, dear, let’s bring you to Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

“The owner of the hotel, and also the Princess of Hell.”

“We’re in hell?”

Alastor stops in his tracks as the two of you reach the hallways, finally out of Alastor’s broadcasting tower.

“After our whole conversation, you just noticed?”

“I.. I suppose so.”

“Oh, dear, you really are just one mysterious creature, aren't you? To think you just appeared here, with no memories of yourself, of the world, and even what you're doing here in Hell. You are truly fascinating..”

Alastor smirks, speaking in a lower voice. “Charlie will be delighted to have you here.”

After introductions and such, Charlie settles you into the room next to Alastor’s, opposite of Angel Dust, and introduces you to all the staff.

“So.. who are ya’ exactly?” The white spider raises a hand, slouching on the couch with a grey cat beside him.

“This is our new guest!” Charlie introduces. “Alastor found her unconscious and offered to let her stay.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question, princess.” The grey cat speaks up, seemingly bored from the unoriginality of these introductions.

“Well, Husker, our little friend here has lost her memories.” Alastor speaks up from beside you, ruffling your hair with his staff-cane-thing once more. You still couldn’t make out what it was really supposed to be.

“Lost her memories?” Vaggie is the one to speak up this time.

“Indeed. It seems our dear friend doesn't even remember her own name, let alone anything else.”

“Then what a’ we s’posed to refer to her as?” Angel questions.

“You could call me Bambi..” You mutter softly, gaze glued to your own feet.

“Works for me.” Husk shrugs.

“Sure.” Angel replies.

Vaggie and Niffty nods.

You feel the static beside you grow a bit louder, and as you shift your gaze, you see Alastor keeping his composure with his backs behind his back, his eyes on you as he gives you a soft, and genuine smile.

“You’re going to love it here, Bambi.” He says.

———/ End. /———

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor fluff #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor angst

628 notes · View notes

courtmartialme · 2 months

Text

some examples i can think of brotherhood crimes of doing riza(and royai) dirty in my opinion that's the absolute truth in the universe. consciously excluding stuff i think are minor but annoy me just as bad or else this post would be too exhausting:

being ugly in general

not including her time travel joke from when they learn that the elrics are kids and not adults on their way to recruiting them

not including the scene where roy meets her after she calls him when she meets barry the chopper and threatens to burn him out of jealousy

changing the dialogue after roy saves her from gluttony from:

to:

LIKE...... if brotherhood has the habit of cutting off scenes to make it shorter then WHY they would change this scene to become BIGGER AND WORSE. the dialogue in manga is a clear example of their trust and wordless care for each other. while in broho it's just ?????? roy being an asshole????? to his wife?????? whom he just left his post running for bc he sensed she was in danger???? whoever chose to change this dialogue. kill yourself

riza being nice to alphonse when they are at 3rd laboratory:

not including the only time in the whole series roy calls her by her first name only:

the WHOLE ishval arc. riza telling ed about ishval lasts a whole ass volume while it's barely an entire episode in anime like... hm.. for starters the way roy and riza meet again there is different. in manga she saves roy and hughes from a surprise attack, and only realizes it's roy when she sees him through the scope. then hughes tells roy that they brought a talented sniper from the academy and goes after her to thank her for saving them. in anime riza suddenly shows up to roy when he was talking to hughes and like... not necessarily a bad thing i guess but...... yeah.... also this whole conversation is cut off if i remember right.. among a lot of other things LOL i hate how ishval arc is played down in BH

riza being funny and cute not being included again

this scene when they reach 3rd lab again in promised day and roy jokes about wanting to see her honest tears again and riza replies saying water makes him useless BUT in manga she's all cute and blushy while in anime they make her be all # girlbaws about it because that's all brotherhood riza is about lmao they took away her moeness...crime

in manga, after roy gives up killing envy upon realizing it would lead to riza shooting him then killing herself, it shows him lowering her gun without the glove he previously had on. symbolizing that he lowered his weapon before he could lower hers. in anime he still has his gloves on

EDIT I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT PANEL OF THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RIZA BEING INSUBORDINATE AND A BRAT SHE'S SO CUTE THIS PANEL IS WHAT INSPIRED MY USERNAME... SHE'S SO CUTE...... brotherhood is so scared of letting riza be cute and moe because she would be too powerful if they let her

EDIT 222222 BECAUSE I WOKE UP IN COLD SWEAT AT REMEMBERING I FORGOT THIS TOO

roy visits madame christmas' bar looking down and she asks him why doesn't he and elizabeth go someplace fun... we all know who elizabeth is right... and he says miserably that another man took elizabeth away from him(referring to riza being kept hostage by bradley) and at that the other girl asks if that means she has a chance with him now. everyone knows that roy is so wifepilled he won't look any other way if riza is in the picture lmao also how embarrassing it is that even your mom knows you're fucking your subordinate

i'm convinced somebody at BH staff hated riza's ass because of how often riza and royai scenes are changed or ignored... i know it's common for anime adaptations to cut off moments from manga but for an anime that whole premise is to be The Better Adaptation, doing it so often makes it bad to me. if you repeatedly exclude scenes that tell more about the characters because they're "not relevant to the plot", eventually there will be no actual personality left, only characters that are plot props

THERE'S A LOT MORE i wanted to include but this is already long enough and i got tired LMFAO a lot of things(most not included) are non issues because are mostly about riza being a bit silly, or showing more expression than she does in anime in a scene that otherwise doesn't change anything. but they still annoy me because by repeatedly excluding and changing these moments add to the view people have of her being nagging and stoic, at an attempt to make her a cool flawless Good Woman Character. what for.

#tecotalk #fma #riza hawkeye #throwing in the tag because fuck it #not hiding anything under the cut everyone will be subjected to this

405 notes · View notes

blindmagdalena · 6 months

Text

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left.

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms. “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue.

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open.

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely. Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated.

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart. This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #terato #vampire x reader #monster romance #monster x human #it's late af but i FINALLY wrote vamplander!!!! special shoutout to non and calli for helping me with this one #my writing #dark fic

725 notes · View notes

squids-and-waffles7 · 1 year

Photo

what if belos makes another grimwalker?

[ ID: A digital comic featuring the main cast from The Owl House, all in their post Thanks to Them designs. In the first panel on the first page, from left to right, Gus, Amity, Hunter, Willow, Luz, and Camila are standing, facing off against an unseen Belos. Hunter is in the very back, with Gus and Luz more to the front, and everyone else is somewhere in the middle. Luz is holding glyphs out, the top of her face obscured by the panel. She says, “End of the line, Belos. There’s nothing else you can do.” Clouds float by in the background. In the second panel, everyone is posed the same way, except it’s zoomed in on Hunter this time. He has a shocked/confused expression on his face. He whispers, “is that..?” Meanwhile, an (again) unseen Belos says, “ Oh Luz, you really are a fool. You didn’t think I would have anything else up my sleeve? Why do you think I sent Hunter on all those supply missions?” The third panel is a close up shot of Hunter’s eyes, which are brown. He looks shocked and confused. The text around him says, “The Selkidomus scales.... Those Galdorstones...” Belos continues talking, as the dialouge in the bottom says, “I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet. Especially after he betrayed me.” End of Page One.

In the first panel on the second page, a masked golden guard can be seen stepping out of the dark, hand on his mask. A partially obscured Belos in his monster form lurks in the background, head obscured. His hands are on both side of the golden guard, almost like he’s presenting him. Belos continues to speak, as the text on the left reads, “What a shame, really.” The right side reads, “... But, Oh well. I can always do it again.”

The second panel on the second page is a closeup shot of the new golden guard’s eyes, which are the magenta/pink colour hunter used to have. This grimwalker looks ahead, eyebrows furrowed. He has a birthmark on his left cheek and a light scar across his nose, similar to Phillip’s in Elsewhere and Elsewhen. The text below it reads, with Belos still speaking, “... Do tell me though, Hunter.” With a crossed out/ glitched “Caleb” before the word Hunter.

In the last panel on the second page, the new golden guard can be seen from the waist up, wearing Hunter’s old golden guard uniform. He holds Hunter’s old staff, looking ahead determinedly. Belos’ hand rests on his right shoulder, with a looming Belos over his left shoulder in the background. Belos’ head is obscured except for his mouth, which appears to be an almost smile. He says in the text below the panel, “How does it feel to be replaced?” End ID.]

8K notes · View notes

str4wbaeby · 17 days

Text

𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮 pt.1

ᵒᵇˢᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳ ˣ ᵇᵒᵒᵏʷᵒʳᵐ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

⤷ note : pt.2 | pt.3 | moodboard

his presence lingered in every corner of the bookstore, name spoken in reverent tones by both staff and patrons alike. and who he might be? the literary virtuoso, Ren Takahashi, who recently emerged as a new generation fiction writer, standing as a towering figure in the realm of literature. despite being a new name in the writing community, he was quick to rise to fame with the release of his latest masterpiece, which depicted the story of a yearning painter desperately in search of his muse; the story mainly revolving around the theme of lovesickness.

being an avid book lover, it was not unusual for you to keep up with the latest updates in the community, be it newly released books or the newly emerging writers. for you, Ren was not an unfamiliar name but you never really felt truly drawn to any of his writings, which often tended to revolve around a similar theme of infatuation and obsessive love.

as you made your way through the aisles, you couldn't help but notice the prominent display of his new novel on the central shelf, the vibrant red cover drawing you in. opening the glass panel, you carefully took the book out. as you started to read, your expression quickly shifted with eyebrows furrowing into concentration as your lips curled into a smile of intrigue. turning the pages with a gentle flutter, you seemed to absorb each word presented before you. completely enamoured by the book, you failed to notice the presence of an unknown figure, leaning against the opposite bookshelf, eyes longingly staring at your small figure

"so, do you like the book?", the figure softly spoke out, careful not to startle you while clearing his throat in the process.

needless to say, you were a bit startled at first but the gentleness of his voice oddly managed to calm you down almost instantly. you were never really much of a talker, thanks to your introverted nature and not wanting to make this interaction any awkward, you just found it easier to nod your head in response. your eyes were still fixated on the pages, only to look up at the figure once you were satisfied with thorough scanning of the book. infront of you stood the most gorgeous men you have ever laid your eyes upon in your 23 years of living. luscious long hair tressed a shadowy cascade against his pale porcelain skin, hazel eyes twinkling under the bright store lighting as his 6'2 figure stood towering over you, leaning against the wooden shelf in a relaxed stance.

a shade of pink subconsciously coated your cheeks, as you struggled to maintain eye contact with the handsome stranger.

"do you come here often ?", his velvety voice echoed in your ears, slowly luring you in like a siren's song. at the sudden loss of words, all you could do was nod at his question in agreement.

noticing your flustered state, he chuckled softly, silently taking in your adorable expression and soft features.

"say, would you like to have a cup of coffee with me at the nearby cafe? I've heard their pastries are quite popular here"

the proposal was unexpected. especially coming from someone like him; someone as beautiful as him. you were average to say the least, easily passing as just another face in the crowd. why would he want someone like you?

quickly snapping out of your trance, you politely denied his offer with a firm "no". but why? didn't you like him too? the dejected look in his eyes reminded you of a lost puppy. concealing the pain with a fake smile, he handed you his number in a piece of paper, telling you to call him if you ever wanted to talk or had a change of heart regarding your little coffee date. or he could just show up at the bookstore to meet you again? you wouldn't suspect anything, right? it'll just be another coincidence, after all! ♡

with a seemingly disinterested look, you took the paper out of his hand, only to catch a quick glimpse of something that caught your eyes.

"(555) 867-xxxx

- Ren Takahashi "

#yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #male oc #yandere male x reader #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere prompt #yandere insert #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere male x you #x gender neutral reader #x reader #x reader insert #gn reader #mochiii.writes #divider creds: cafekitsune

386 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 14 days

Text

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 5

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

Staring the 2024 season was nerve wracking. You’d only come to Red Bull on a 2 year deal of 2023 and 2024 until Sergio was supposed to come back.

So at the start of the season, this could have been your final year racing full stop.

The only people who had confirmed contracts past 2024 were Max (till 2028), Lando (till 2025), Oscar (till 2026) Valtteri (till 2025), Lewis (till 2025) and Lance because everyone knew that he’d keep his seat all the time his dad is bank-rolling Aston Martin.

Some people, like Logan weren’t confirmed to be driving in 2024 until the very last minute. Everyone was stressed.

Fast forward after the winter break and you’d had no talks with Christian about your seat.

Then the new on the 25th of January came.

Charles Leclerc Extends Ferrari Contract

And then again on the 26th of January …

Lando Norris Extends McLaren Contract.

But the worst, the one that caused you the most panic was the 1st of February.

Lewis Hamilton to Leave Mercedes

Lewis Hamilton to Join Ferrari in 2025.

And now you were panicking big time, with all these contract renewals, of team principles desperately trying to keep their drivers.

And yes, there was now a Mercedes seat free, but Lewis left for a reason and Lewis is the most loyal person let alone driver that you know. So there must have been a reason as to why he left. You just didn’t know what it was yet.

It also meant that a great driver like Carlos Sainz was now gunning for a seat … maybe even your seat.

And you couldn’t help but think that’s why Christian was holding out on renewing your contract.

But with the allegations against Christian, and everything else going on, there were no conversations being held on your behalf.

Nobody was reaching out to you, so you’d have to show the whose boss. You were going to prove that you could be the number 1 driver and you were going to prove you deserve your seat.

Testing came around and you were fast, faster than Max. You also had learnt after last season better tyre management. So your tyres were holding up well. And everyone could tell you were a better driver now than you were last season.

But again, you couldn’t tell right no who was and wasn’t pushing themselves while you were sandbagging and starting to doubt yourself as a driver. You ended up throwing yourself into training, and it was basically all you did. Sim Racing, Working Out, Diet planning. You hadn’t gone out with friends or family in months nervous for your first race in Bahrain.

All of your friends, specifically the ones on the grid were worried about you, knowing the pressures that came with their sport.

Lando Mando

Hey Y/N, haven’t heard from you in a while. Hoping you’re all okay! <3

Dutch Lion 🦁

Hey, what’s going on. You were quiet at testing :(?

AlbonO

Lily said you seemed of the other day … I agreed with her. You okay? 🫶🏼

No text from Oscar…

Bahrain came around far to quickly. And you were quiet. Thankful you weren’t on the media panel, you were just being asked by the Red Bull Social Media staff to do track walks, but they could all tell that you weren’t off highest spirits, and tired more with Max who had stopped pestering you.

Everyone was more worried at the fact you hadn’t replied but you were in fact at the races and actively on your phone.

They couldn’t help but think you were ignoring them, but little did they know, the ball of anxiety that sat in your chest and stomach got a little bit worse every-time you even thought if replying.

So you ignored them.

FP1 came and you were overthinking everything. You didn’t have to be insanely quick here, you just had to see how the car felt in Bahrain, and get comfortable with the track again. You hadn’t raced here in nearly a year now.

You ended it on P12.

The Sky Sports commentators assumed you were still sandbagging, which you and Max both had been in Pre Season Testing.

FP2 was later that day and you gained two places, feeling better when the guy in P2 in FP1 (Lando) was now all the way down in P20. That’s was the thing with Free Practices you could be anywhere on the board and I didn’t really until FP3 prove anything.

“Y/N can we have a minute of your time please!” An interviewer smiles kindly and you just nod, no words.

“How is the car feeling after today?” She asks and you nod.

“Good” you say.

“Yeah? Thats unsurprising with the year Red Bull had last year with not only a fantastic car but fantastic drivers. Do you feel as though that hardcore dominance you guys had last year is tightening up this year? ” she smiles and you nod.

“Yeah, I think it’s obvious who the top constructors are right now, and I think there will be teams out there to give us a run for our money” you admit with a shrug and the interviewer tenses a little at your blunt and very forefront replies.

“And is there any talks of any contract negotiations with you and any team on the grid” she asks and you freeze up a little before looking up at her.

“No there isn’t, thank you for your time” you say before walking away and back to the Red Bull Motorhome.

You slept awfully on the Thursday night, going into the Friday. FP3 came and again you improved coming in P8, however you could see Horners shake of ‘disapproval’ and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Qualifying, which is as later in on the day came and with Max setting pole, you’d hoped to be quicker. And you weren’t, you ended up starting in P5.

Which in hindsight wasn't bad, but you were starting behind George and Carlos with Fernando next to you and Lando and Oscar behind you. You could see HIM in when you were getting into the car and in your rear view mirror as you did the formation lap.

"Now, before this race starts. It's important to note that today is very very important for so many drivers!" David says as the helicopter camera follows the cars on the formation lap.

"Mmmm yeah and why's that Crofty?" Ted asks.

"Well Ted, with that Mercedes seat open... and with so many contracts ending everyone, and I mean everyone will be looking to prove themselves in this race" David advises as they watch them come round one of the last corners.

"Yeah, particularly Y/N and Carlos. Obviously there's been no confirmation of either of there seats its just a waiting game really" he nods and then they wait for the lights to go out.

You have an insanely good get away, coming up right behind George and overtaking Carlos on the straight, getting onto the right side of turn 1, meaning you kept P4.

Over halfway through the race, you were now up to P2, having kept your tyres longer than most, and being able to keep up with softs for the end laps of the race.

You kept a steady flow behind Max with a small time gap. You were on fresher tyres and you were on the softs meaning you were statistically driving quicker than Max.

"Overtake?" you asked into the radio, you were basically riding Max's bumper at the point and you could tell that the tyres were starting to degrade more than they should have been.

"Horner doesn't want to loose a 1-2, he needs you to defend for Max. Plan C" he says and you huff. You understoof the team orders. If you overtook now, you were risking Charles taking over Max and splitting a 1-2. You fell back away from Max, attempting to create a DRS train behind you to give Max some lee-way ahead.

"You know, Y/N is such a fantastic driver. Team orders, basically make it so that she isn't going to get this win to help Max, but she knows it's helping the team in the long run. She's honestly one of the most loyal drivers I've ever seen. She's never fought against team orders..." one of the commentators admits as they watch Charles not be able to get round you and Carlos pulling up behind him going down the grid.

You ended up on the podium, next to Max and Charles on the otherside of him as you each lifted up your trophies and sprayed champagne at each other.

For people viewing it was the first time you looked genuinely happy since the start of the season laughing and messing with Charles and Max.

You hoped it was a feeling that would last throughout the rest of the season, especially if it was your last.

Oscar was there, at the podium despite coming P8. He watched as he was genuinely concerned for you after reports from his friends suggesting that you might not be okay.

He wanted to see, and despite everyone seeing that you were happy messing around, there was a moment when most eyes were probably on Charles and Max goofing around where you looked down wiping the champagne of your face and your eyes went back to the dull and unhappy look.

He was hurt by what you did, but he also hurt you back as a stupid and petty way of revenge and he didn't know how to fix that.

He needed to enlist the help of his closest confidents.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81 #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff

159 notes · View notes

lady-lauren · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: authority/power-play, boss/employee relationship, age-gap, size difference/size kink, public heavy petting/fingering, rough sex, desk sex, praise kink, use of “good girl,” light choking/breath play, hand pressed over reader’s mouth, hair pulling, creampie (Enji is implied to be divorced, no cheating) trapped in an elevator for a while, so warnings for claustrophobia and elevators in general.

A/N: Special thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @titan-fodder for reading over this bad boy, and extra special thanks to my power going out right as I was excited to post this. God how I’ve missed Endeavor. One horny thought turned into over 6k. Enjoy ❤️

Endeavor’s name and presence is all over his hero agency. On every letterhead, blazing neon red letters on the front of the building, on company sweatshirts and stamps, email signatures, and even every pen and notepad. Yet the man himself is hardly ever seen.

Working directly for the titular hero of the agency as his senior support staff means that you see him more than most, and even still, his flaming body is a rarity to you.

So it’s a shock to see him in the elevator this morning, fire extinguished due to the spacial hazard. He’s dressed casually, white dress shirt and navy trousers. It’s too early for his hero duties to begin, the clock having not yet struck 9 a.m.

“Good morning,” you whisper with your eyes averted; his proximity always makes you anxious.

“Morning.”

He greets you with a curt nod as you step into the elevator from the parking garage floor.

Your first instinct is to press yourself to the farthest wall away from him. There’s an obstacle, however, one of his many sidekicks already twiddling his thumbs with worriment against the right wall. Endeavor stands in the back left corner, arms crossed, muscles bulging. You stick to the front of the car, leaning against the cool wall near the control panel.

The top-most floor is where you’re headed—same as your boss.

An itch crawls in your throat to make small talk, to fill the silent, awkward void as the elevator doors close and the cables hoist the metal box upwards. But you keep quiet, even if it is a long ride to floor thirty-six.

Lights on the floor numbers flicker, passing the lower levels, only to stop on the main lobby.

You exhale heavily as another sidekick enters the space, this guy bigger than most, making you step back a bit closer to the number one hero.

More people continue to filter in, worker bees about to go to their respective places in the corporate hive.

One after the other, feet shuffle, each new body making you edge closer and closer to the behemoth in the corner. Some have the guts to acknowledge Endeavor, others have wide eyes and try to cram themselves as far away from him as possible.

Endeavor is still hot—literally—without his flames, the heat of his body making the elevator car feel like a sweltering humid day. Like the sun, torrid waves pour from his core, making sweat form at the base of your neck.

The elevator doors finally close, only for them to re-open just one floor up.

Someone leaves, but three more enter. Everyone has to displace like water, make room for the other employees.

You take your final step back before your heeled shoe catches the toe of Endeavor’s boot.

“Sorry,” you mumble, placing your hand on the wall next to him to steady yourself.

The Flame Hero only huffs, casting you a glance before returning his gaze that rests over every head.

“Geez, busy morning, yeah?” Someone breaks the ice, someone nods in return.

“Elevators, huh? They really have their ups and downs.”

You can feel Endeavor groan in annoyance behind you, his broad form just a hair’s width away from you. Your legs are stiff in your heels, back straight as you try to be mindful not to touch or bump him. It’s not that you’re afraid of him, you just dare not be inappropriate with your boss—with the number one hero.

But your efforts to keep a suitable distance between you and your colossal employer fail when, by floor ten, you’re pushed back against him when another influx of people rush the elevator.

“I’m so sorry,” you look up at him as you apologize, craning your neck back against his chest.

“It’s alright.”

When the elevator jolts back to life, surging upward, your balance betrays you. Endeavor catches your hip before you lose yourself to gravity, a large hand keeping you upright.

The touch should be brief—that’s what you expect. Instead, his huge, hot fingers stay put, lingering. His thumb feels like it’s scorching your body at the seam of where your blouse is tucked into your skirt.

Your hair stands on end and you become acutely aware of just how much of you is touching him.

Your back is flush against his chest, his brawny thighs—spread wide—are on either side of your own, which are pressed together with nervousness. The top of your head bumps back against the collar of his shirt, the buttons down his robust chest are scraping against the thin fabric that covers your skin. His strong arm at your side keeps you from bumping into the elevator wall.

The two of you are rocking with the shifting and lifting of the elevator, shoulders bumping into the people next to you; the tall side-kick in front of you is nearly touching your nose with his back.

The elevator car creaks, the cables struggling.

“There’s a weight limit to these things, isn’t there?” A woman whispers near the front.

“Says here 1,500 pounds.” A little guy near the front reads the plaque above the floor buttons.

You can’t see beyond about three people around you, the height of the sidekicks blocking most everyone’s view. But if you had to guess, there’s about twelve people on the elevator, and at least four of the bigger heroes are well over two hundred pounds, Endeavor included.

“I think we’re over capacity, but we should be okay.” A different voice, one that makes people sigh with relief.

When the metal doors glide open on floor twenty, revealing two faces ready to enter the car, it’s Endeavor who speaks up.

“Elevator’s full. Catch the next one.”

No one would dare tell him no.

The rumble of his voice travels down your spine, makes your toes curl in your shoes that are starting to feel too-tight. Your ass is promptly placed at his crotch, the realization of which makes you flush.

Five floors whisk by, the next lit up button about to be reached, only for the elevator to shriek and rumble.

“Oh shit!” Someone yells as the world shifts, as the lights flash and the metal box shakes.

Endeavor instinctively wraps his arm around your middle, his free hand flying forward to stop the sidekick in front of you from crushing you between two muscular bodies.

A few of the ladies scream, a few of the men, too, a high pitched conglomeration of curse words and panic.

“Oh god we’re gonna fall!”

“From how high? What floor are we on?!”

“Fucking hell, we’re gonna die!”

“Endeavor save us!”

The electricity crackles before the lights go out, a faint flicker of hope before casting every face into darkness.

“It’s alright, everyone,” Endeavor sighs as he speaks, his hand rubbing against your side like he’s trying to soothe you, too, “we’re going to be fine. Just no one make any sudden movements.”

“Are we going to fall? Can you save us?!”

“Easy,” he tuts at the voice in the dark, “just stay calm. The elevator has shut down purposely in order to prevent it from crashing. If it was going to fall, it would have already. This is a built-in safety measure.”

“What do we do?” One of the sidekicks asks, eager to save the day.

“We wait.” Endeavor answers, finally pulling his hand off the back of his other sidekick, but not removing himself from you.

“Wait for what?!”

You sigh, resolving to let your weight fall back against your boss, tired of trying to keep yourself from being improper in this situation.

“Be quiet.”

A blue light comes to life near your side after Endeavor fishes his phone from his pocket. He dials a number quickly, pressing the speaker function since he can’t pull his phone to his ear due to the bodies cramped next to him.

“Hello, this is Ellie Vader, how can I help you?” A female voice chirps from the speakers.

“Ellie, it’s Endeavor. The elevator has shut down at my office, me and…” he pauses, ready to take a head count but unable to see in the dark, “quite a few people are stuck.”

“The Elevator Hero is at your service! Make sure no one moves suddenly—no jumping, no banging on the walls—I can be there in about fifteen minutes!”

“Thanks.”

And then the light is gone and people are exhaling in relief.

“There’s an elevator hero?” You mumble up to Endeavor, smiling even if he can’t see it.

“You’d be surprised how many elevators get stuck a day in this city. We’ll be fine.”

The blackout urges people to be quiet. It’s pitch dark, the absence of light making some go still, while others try to feel their surroundings, causing a ripple of “ouch,” “back off,” “don’t touch me,” “that’s my fucking toe.”

Soon, though, a few people are able to maneuver their phones into their hands, and dull screens make the packed space feel less intimidating. Two co-workers even start up a hushed conversation at the front, talking about the department meeting they dread today. Another pair strikes up a forced chat about weekend plans. They’re human, after all, awkward and trying to fill the silence.

Feet aching from heels you did not plan to be planted on metal floor for so long, you shift your weight between your knees, inadvertently rubbing yourself against your boss’s crotch.

“You alright?” Endeavor turns his face down to whisper to you, lips brushing against your ear.

“Mhm, yeah, my feet just hurt a bit.”

“I’m sure they do, given those ridiculous heels you wear every day.”

There’s a playfulness to his tone that you’ve heard from time-to-time. Though now, in such close proximity, it makes you warm, makes your palms sweat.

You murmur without thinking, “Yeah, but they make my legs look good.”

Regretting the words immediately, you press your lips together, ready to bang your head into the guy’s back in front of you.

Endeavor doesn’t respond right away, only chuckles, the arm around your middle retreating. He slides his big hand across your belly, slowly, like he wants you to feel it. Then his fingers are back to your hip, but moving down, down, down until his absurdly large fingertips are trailing the hem of your skirt.

“Indeed they do.” Endeavor speaks more softly than you’ve ever heard him before, just a breath of words for you to hear.

But anyone could hear him if they were paying attention. If anyone were to crane their neck and look back, they’d see the outline of number one hero creeping his fingers up his assistant’s skirt in the dark.

Hot can no longer describe how you feel pressed against him. The temperature goes beyond that—boiling, like he’s on fire and engulfing you even though his quirk is being suppressed. You’re flying far too close to the sun, being sucked into his orbit.

Your fingers clasp in front of you for sanity, knuckles squeezing tightly as you hold your breath.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about fucking Endeavor.

It’s hard not to think about sex when you look at him. He ticks every primitive mating box: incredibly tall, handsome, the strongest of any pack he’s in. Everywhere he goes, he brings an air of authority with him. Making people cower is almost part of his charm.

Endeavor clears his throat and it makes you jump, the deep sound vibrating against your back. Two fingers come to a halt on the back of your thigh, just a few inches higher than your hem, just a few inches away from touching your backside.

“Are you alright with the work you’ve been given today?” He asks quietly, pointedly to you.

It’s code. You pick up on it right away, as it’s Monday and you’re lucky enough to not have any assignments yet. He’s asking if you’re alright with him touching you.

“Yes, sir—” you lick your lips as you think about what to say in response, “I think it’s going to be a very pleasurable day.”

Someone in front of you snorts, muttering a “yeah, after we get off this goddamn elevator, maybe.”

But the fingers that continue their voyage up your thigh tell you that this elevator calamity is about to be the highlight of your morning.

Endeavor shifts you both, pressing his shoulders back farther against the back wall, giving himself more space to get his huge hand farther up your skirt.

His other hand is quick to act as well. He grasps your ribcage, making you suck in a breath, fingers splayed wide so he can brush the underside of your breast without detection. Your bra stands in the way, an unfortunate barrier, but still your tit jiggles in the cup just enough to send heat straight to your cunt.

The elevator creaks and groans, like a ship baying in the ocean. A few shocked gasps echo around the space, which is the perfect cover for the sound you can’t help but make as your boss’s fingers settle between your legs.

Endeavor spreads the fat of your pressed-too-tightly thighs easily, two thick fingers rubbing against your panties.

A strained sound comes from his throat, like he wants to say something but is holding himself back. His middle finger strokes further between your thighs, pushing against your clit. You see stars for a moment in the dark, pleasure searing down into the pits of your stomach.

You’re both damp. Him from the heat of the elevator, mostly caused by him, anyways, his white shirt clinging to his plush chest. You’re wet between your legs, his touch immediately making your slick pool against cotton.

His fingers are languid but strong, repeating the action of sliding between your covered folds and toying with your clit until your thighs are clenching around his wrist, knees knocking together and shaking.

“Good,” is all he breathes down the back of your neck, concise praise that makes you bite the inside of your cheek to avoid whimpering.

Your head falls back to his chest, breasts heaving as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself. From the light of a phone screen in the corner, you can barely make out Endeavor’s features. Sharp jaw turned down toward you, thick neck with a pulse thumping as hard as your own. You can barely make out the jagged lines of his facial scar, a firm reminder of whose hands you’re in.

Desperately you want to tilt your head back just a bit more, offer your lips for him to kiss. But you can still hear people all around you, even if you can’t really see them. Coughs and shuffling, mutterings and someone on the phone up front toward the doors swearing that he’s not late, just stuck in an elevator with Endeavor.

It’s hard to grasp the concept that Endeavor is touching you, that he wants to touch you, and made the move himself to shove his fingers against your pussy. You’re just a pretty girl with a simple quirk and a talent for organizing his schedule.

Endeavor manages to pull his burly arm up a bit more on your side, weighty palm curving over your breast until his thumb and index fingers rest at the base of your throat. A contingency plan, you realize, for him to take quick action should you get too noisy.

Long fingers are deft, swift and pushy, pulling your panties to the side so he can really touch you, smear feverish fingertips through your wetness. You bump your head back against his chest in near defeat, eyes screwing shut as you focus on not verbally responding to the gratification of skin upon skin.

He’s good at what he’s doing, too good, playing you like the devil plays his fiddle as his index finger slips into your tight hole and his middle rolls against your clit.

You nearly lose your footing, having to plant one foot back between his stance in order to stay standing. You’re more open for him now, his thumb pushing at the fat of your ass and spreading you. Your cunt sucks in his finger willingly, wet and squishing, making you flush with embarrassment.

But no one seems to notice, there’s no sound of shock, no shadowy figures turning in the dark.

In a fucked up way, it feels like just you and him, a moth sucked into a dangerous flame.

“More?” Barely a whisper into the top of your head, breath hot and lost in your hair.

“Yes,” you sob quickly.

He moves the hand at your neck higher, squeezing just enough to feel blood pumping in your carotid arteries, to keep you quiet.

More than anything, you want to feel full, and he heeds your silent prayer. Endeavor stuffs two fingers into you, middle finger abandoning your clit in favor of curling against your walls. He pumps into you roughly, purposely, each thrust making your stomach tighten. He wants to drive you off the orgasmic cliff, force you to cum in his hand.

And you’re getting close, far more quickly than you’re proud of. His fingers are skilled, cruel, finding that perfect spot inside you that makes you want to scream. But you can’t. You swallow it down, grit your jaw until you hurt. His thumb and ring fingers are mean against your ass cheeks, packed against soft flesh as he coaxes more slick sounds from between your legs.

Endeavor squeezes your throat, once, twice, like he’s urging you, commanding you. Do it, do it.

Delectable jolts race across your nerves, blending together at the apex of your thighs, deep in your belly. His fingers press in deeper, harder, velvety walls rich around him. You can feel every knuckle, feel how he spreads you, vicious and eager, like he doesn’t care that you’re practically dripping into the floor.

Your lashes are fluttering as you fully put your weight back against his chest, content to just feel him. His breaths are steady, calming, like he isn’t pounding his fingers into your cunt. His fingers are thick, insanely so, which only makes you hold in a whisper at how fat his cock must be.

Each press of his fingers makes you jump, makes your stomach tighten like some molten core is forming with every thrust. It all feels too good, like a hot, humid heaven where you’re being stuffed and satiated.

Your hips buck back against him, heels scraping the floor, his hard cock pressing right against the groove of your ass.

Feeling him behind you, Endeavor, number one hero, massive body, forearms straining against you, his cock aching for you, that’s what pushes you over the edge.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. One of your hands flies to the hero’s wrist around your neck for stability.

You absolutely shatter, thighs quivering, cunt cinching, orgasm flooding all your senses like you’ve been thrown into the deep end. Blood rushes to your ears, fills your cheeks, rushes south as you gush. You’re blissfully trapped, waves hitting you from every angle, knocking the breath out of you as you cream all over your boss’s hand.

“Fuck,” you have to say something, have to curse into the silence before you scream and explode.

“Good girl.”

He doesn’t remove his fingers right away. He lingers, pressing his cock against your ass, moving his hand down to tug at your waist and get you to rock back against him. He delights in the friction of you against his slacks, practically purring behind you.

“Hey, what’s that sound?” Someone comments. Immediately you blanch, worried you’ve been caught.

But you hear it too, the cables tugging again, the machine of the elevator humming back to life.

“Oh my god we’re saved!”

“I thought I was going to die!”

It’s a chorus of happiness, one that easily drowns out the slippery sounds of Endeavor finally leaving the sanctuary of your cunt. You squeak at the loss of contact, feeling so very empty as he pushes your skirt down, wipes the mess of his fingers on his pants.

Still, the gigantic man doesn’t quite let you go. He keeps his hands on your hips, keeping you planted right in front of him. To hide the tent in his pants, you assume.

“Hi there!”

The elevator doors finally open on floor twenty-seven to Ellie Vader, smiling with a giant wrench thrown over her shoulder.

“Oh thank god!” One of the elevator passengers flings himself at her, wrapping her in a hug as he dramatically brings himself to tears.

“Goodness, it’s hot in there! Everyone out, elevator is fixed, but we can’t have this many people traveling anymore!”

Eager bodies shuffle out, shoulders bumping, quickly cursing before apologizing.

But Endeavor keeps his hands on you, firm, steady, telling you that you are not to follow suit.

“Thank you, Ellie,” Endeavor’s voice is a bit hoarse, but he gives her a forced smile from the back of the car.

“Any time, pal! It was probably you who weighed down the damn thing, anyways. Now off you go!”

The beaming hero smacks the up button on the outer wall, closing the doors and sending you back on the track to the top floor.

You don’t have time to process fully being alone with Endeavor.

Easily, far too easily, he pushes you against the elevator wall, hands on either side of your head as he cages you in.

Blue eyes spark with flames, low rumbling ones, flicking just hot enough to kiss your skin.

“Cancel everything on my schedule today.”

“B-but sir, you have—”

“I. Don’t. Care. Clear it, or better yet, message one of the other assistants to do so. You’ll be occupied the rest of the day.”

He takes your jaw into his hand as you nod in affirmation. You can still smell yourself on his fingers. Your cheeks squish underneath the might of his grip, and he watches you curiously, quietly, like a lion playing with a fresh catch.

The elevator chimes before he can kiss you.

“Follow me to my office.”

He turns on his heels, marching in a beeline out of the lift and straight to the large double doors of his office. You follow a few beats later, hands quick to find your phone and send out an emergency email to the rest of the support staff to wipe the boss’s calendar clean.

You’re a bit wobbly as you exit the elevator, panties still pushed to the side, but swiftly find your footing. You take long, brisk strides to the looming promise of Endeavor’s office.

Once you enter, he commands you to lock the door, which is not unusual given how he hates to be disturbed while he’s working.

“On the desk,” he has yet to sit down, too busy peeling off his dampened shirt and running a hand through red hair.

His office has always been intimidating. Far too large and nearly empty save his desk and a few couches, the floor to ceiling windows making it feel even more expansive as it overlooks the Musutafu skyline. You feel small against the oak wood of his desk, like a doll placed for decoration as you cross your legs nervously, like he hadn’t just had his hand between your thighs, in your cunt.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you?” His words make you prickle with delight as his belt clinks, the leather being slid from his pants without a second thought.

“Thank you.” It’s all you know to say.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you.” He cages you in again, big palms flat against his desk as he leans down to brush his nose against your throat. “Thought about fucking you since I hired you.”

You’re overwhelmed by him, by his size, by his cologne, his proximity. He’s all encompassing so up close and personal. Your eyes are glued to his musculature, transfixed by the way his shoulders roll, how plush his pectorals are. He could easily crush you with his might, yet his hands are quick and soft as they push and pull at the buttons of your blouse.

“Kiss me.” You demand of him, your lips wet and begging for friction.

He indulges you without a second thought, one hand unclasping your bra as the other holds your chin. His mouth is heavy, hot, rough against yours like he’s taking what he wants. He swallows your moans, slides his tongue past your teeth so he can taste you. Warm, languid movements, consuming and intoxicating. He tastes familiar, like how he smells each day, but exotic, like he’s forbidden. And he should be. Yet your legs are spreading below him and your naked tits pressing against his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans and puts his hand on your back, smushing you close to him, slotting your body against his. He’s too tall for his cock to press against your pussy, yet you can feel it against your stomach, twitching against the seam in his pants. You wiggle yourself against one of his powerful thighs, desperate to feel some kind of contact between your legs.

Endeavor breaks your kiss by tugging at your hair, fingers weaving between the strands so he can pull your neck back and keep you still.

Blue eyes scan your spit stained lips before wandering down, stopping to watch your breasts heave from the breath you lost to your kiss.

“Always knew you’d have perfect tits.” He punctuates his statement by plucking at one of your nipples, rolling the bud between hefty fingers until it pebbles to his touch.

You can’t help but whine as he repeats the action, pinching and pulling just to watch your body’s reaction. He yanks the hand in your hair back, making your spine arch and tits press out further. He plays with your other nipple, balancing the sensations, making you grind down against him as you search for more pleasure.

Dipping his head, he places a long, flat lick across your nipple, leaving a cold trail in his wake.

“Enji!” You lean into the pull he has on your hair.

He sucks your nipple into his mouth, a grunt vibrating across your breast as he circles your sensitive peak with his tongue.

“Like my name in your mouth,” he says between breasts, lathering the other with plenty of attention as well. You shiver at his ministrations, the air conditioning making you bristle in the cold when his heat shifts across your body.

“Enji,” you repeat with purpose, “fuck, you’re spoiling me.”

And you mean it, it’ll be hard to walk into his office and not think of him nursing your tits.

“Just wait, sweetheart. I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You moan, feeling like he already has.

Enji releases your hair, the heel of his hand pushing against your shoulder to get you to lay flat against the papers on his desk. Ink sticks to your sweaty skin.

“Let me see the mess you made.”

Moving your skirt down your hips before you can even process, he opens your legs wide, gigantic hands pushing on the backs of your thighs so your slick, sloppy cunt and soiled panties sticking to your folds are on display.

“Mess you made,” you correct with a breathy giggle, staring up at the ceiling of his office.

“Didn’t hear you complaining in the elevator, sweetheart.” He runs a finger down your folds, your body convulsing at the touch. “In fact, I didn't hear you make much of a peep. Such a good girl, keeping quiet for me.”

“If your cock is anything like your fingers, I don’t know if I can be quiet.”

Enji plays with your messy cunt, curling two fingers against you before peeling the wet cotton away so he can look at you.

“Don’t want you to be quiet,” you both groan as his finger prods your hole, “though I’ll make you hush if you get too loud.”

You flush with a fresh heat as he pulls your panties down your legs, feeling strings of slick pop from where you were sticking to the threads.

“Look at that pretty pussy. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. You were sucking my fingers so tight earlier.”

You never expected him to be so vocal and it makes you gasp, fingers trying to grip into the clutter of paperwork on his desk.

He’s aware of his strength as he grasps your hip, careful not to hurt you even as his blood simmers and his cock springs from his pants.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, eyes gone glassy as you close them against the fluorescent lights, “please, please.”

He grunts in affirmation, sliding his thick cock over your slippery folds, coating himself. There’s a vein that runs on the underside of him, hot and pounding, moving just right against your clit to make your thighs shake in his hands.

The urge to look at him, to actually see the monstrous cock you’ve been dreaming of, is strong, but his grip is stronger. You can’t move below him, his shoulders and arms working to press and secure you against his desk. All you can do is breathe and wait, feel his fat cock slip and grind against you.

“Deep breath,” he tells you, pressing his leaking tip against your cunt, “might hurt.”

Luckily, the mess Enji made of you makes it easier for him to pop past that first ring of muscle, cockhead hot and mean as his hips cant. He’s not gentle. Quick thrusts that spread you apart fast, make you open and create room for him inside of you.

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the sounds he’s making. Primal, deep grunts from inside his chest as he stares down at where you’re taking him in, dragging along his length. He bullies his way inside of you, getting off on your whines and squeals as you stretch for him.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishes as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls.

“Shit, fuck,” you exclaim as he begins to bottom out, russet curls on his pubic bone meeting your clit. All you can think about is him; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours. The smell of sex starts early, sweaty skin melting together as he fully starts to take you.

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles, wicked instincts, at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Atta girl,” he mumbles, moving a bit quicker, snapping his strong hips against you, heavy balls against your ass, “just fucking take it.”

You’re practically folded in half and pinned below him, hips arched off the desk so he can find more leverage to barrel into you. The rhythm makes you swim, lost to the pounding of his cock against your insides. Over and over, in and out, spread wide and squeezing all the same as he has his way with you.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

“Feel so good, so full,” you know the praise works both ways, makes him flush and swell with pride.

“Yeah? You like being my little cocksleeve?”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges in deep. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving cream along his shaft. But quickly he gets rougher, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

“C’mere,” but you don’t have to move, just let him pull on you like you weigh nothing.

Enji jerks you upright, cock still seated into your core. Smoothly he stands with you, hands gripping into your ass cheeks as you fling yourself against his chest, trying to get your arms around his massive shoulders.

“I’ve got you.”

He bounces you once, twice, lets you whine into his neck and get used to the new angle. Gravity and his strength make you take all of him in, his cockhead bullying against your womb in the most pleasant way that makes your vision go blurry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” it’s all you can do to stay sane as he becomes brutal, grunting and groaning as he thrusts up into you. Your nails sling to his dewy skin, losing purchase with every rebound. Pink lines etch into him, blending into freckles on his shoulders.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist, any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless due to his size. You go pliant in his arms, mouth sucking into his neck to smother your moans. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time you sink back down. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. And he feels you, smells you, aches for you.

“Never gonna get tired of this,” he roars with a bit of laughter, head rolling back as he lets pleasure take over.

“You’re fucking amazing.” And you mean it, awe overwhelming you as you fall against his chest, dwarfed by his brawn. Enji continues to lift you up and down, up and down, on his cock like you’re weightless. And you are to his strength, his muscles are bulging and corded expertly around his body. He’s trained himself to perfection; trained to be the best at everything.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life.

He nudges your forehead with his nose, coaxing you to look at him so he can bounce you up a bit higher and capture your mouth with his.

“Can I,” he groans into your lips, “can I cum in you?”

His words make your belly coil, a fissure of revelry racing up your spine.

“Please, yes, fuck yes, cum in me.”

You don’t have it in you to explain your birth control, nor does he seem to care for you to. Your confirmation just spurs him to move faster, balls slapping against your ass so roughly you know you’ll be sore just from skin against skin.

“You first.”

Without breaking rhythm, he takes a step back and sits down in his office chair. You coo as you sit in his lap, his hands still planted on your thighs so he can move you however he pleases. He’s strong enough to bounce you with his hips, his thighs, one hand steadying you as the other dips between your bodies.

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, g-gonna cum, Enji,” you take a deep breath, throwing your head back as you buck and bound in his lap, “gonna scream, shit.”

Enji takes matters into his own hands, literally, continuing to strum your sensitive clit as his other hand clasps onto your mouth. It’s a suffocating feeling, a possessive one, like he’s smothering all your cries so no one else can hear but him.

With the safety of his hand over your lips, thumb arched against your cheekbone, pressing, prodding, you let yourself go.

You cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Enji’s hips don’t falter, just continue to slam up into you as he chases his own high. You suck around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. You’ve never cum around such a fat cock and it just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your pleasure out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, spit against his palm and nails raking down his chest.

“God you’re fucking pretty when you cum,” and his praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes wring until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids.

And just when you think you’re done, that you’ll find a reprieve to the shattering, over-sensitive pleasure, he cums inside of you.

He stops to ride out his orgasm, cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. Stuffed so tightly with his cock, his cum gushes from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he purrs, satiated to find release in your cunt.

You can’t help but mumble nonsense against his hands, blissed-out praise of how good he feels, how you love feeling his cum. After a few heartbeats, his hand slips from your face, instead reaching back to run through his hair, catching the sweat beating down his forehead.

“Oh my god,” reality sets in as you lean forward, burying your face into his neck, drunk off the afterglow of sex, but aware enough that the smell of him reminds you that you just fucked your boss on a Monday morning.

“You alright?”

He pets your hair, palm burning down your back as you both come back down from whatever orgasmic plane you were shot into.

“Yeah, just,” you groan as you shift in his lap, his cock still hard and buried so deep in your cunt that you know you’ll feel his ghost for days, “just coming to terms with this.”

Enji laughs, deep and proud, and the rumbles of his chest make you jump.

“Thought I broke you for a moment there. Sorry, sometimes I forget myself. My strength, really.”

Clearly, your heads are not in the same place. He’s worried about your body while you’re worried about repercussions.

“No, you were—this was great, seriously, fucking you is…wild.” You shift in his lap, audibly moaning as you sit up straight, still stuffed full of him. “But you’re not going to fire me, are you?”

He laughs again, looking down at you in his lap with glee in his icy eyes. Running his hands down your shoulders, he hums, smiling.

“Fire you? No, no. Might promote you, though. Make sure you do more important things than just schedule my media appearances.”

He’s being playful, just as love-drunk as you are from sex, and his smile makes you warm, like he’s washing away all your fears.

You kiss him because you feel like you can, like you have the authority to just lean up and take what you want from him. He groans into your mouth, lips matching the movements of yours. It’s nice to kiss him, to take your time and feel him against you; breasts to chest, arms weaving around one another, necks turning and thighs clenching.

“Yeah,” he presses one last kiss to your lips before stretching his arms over his head, “I’m going to keep you, that’s for sure.”

#endeavor smut #enji todoroki smut #endeavor x reader #Enji Todoroki x reader #enji x reader #enji smut #enji todoroki #endeavor #my hero academia fanfic #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #endeavor fanfic #enji todoroki fanfic #bnha enji #bnha endeavor #bnha endeavor fanfic #bnha enji todoroki fanfic #bnha

5K notes · View notes

cuubism · 11 months

Note

I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.

#hob: yep. same shit as always #idk in what type school boards do or don't exist in the uk maybe that's just an american thing #also realized i never named Hob's cafe lol. i guess now it's just called The Cafe. like The Library #fitting for a man who named his tavern The New Inn #bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ask #lunaris1013 #good omens #crowley #aziraphale

307 notes · View notes

deangirlsstuff67 · 1 year

Text

It worked

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You decide to surprise Jensen at a convention with the help of Jared and Cliff.

You told him you couldn't make it to the VanCon this year. Said you were busy with work and just couldn't afford to have the time off. Building your company from the ground up was hard but rewarding, though it took sacrifices.

Jensen understood like the amazing man he was. You couldn't be happier to call him your man.

He understood but you could still see the sadness in his beautiful green eyes. It had been 2 months since you'd last scene each other. Your business and his acting career made it hard to be together.

Phone calls and texting just weren't enough.

Thank to Jared and the rest of the cast of supernatural you hatched a plan. You were going to surprise your baby at the convention.

Of course, the staff were thrilled to help you. Got you in line for questions in the J2 afternoon panel.

You just had to stay out of sight before then.

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

Hey baby I know you must be busy bur I just wanted to say I love you and I can't wait to see you soon.

The message made you smile. It was torture to stay in the convention center but not go see him.

Large hands grab your shoulder from behind. Turning you come face to face with Cliff, the boys Bodyguard.

"You ready sweetheart?" The older man smiling at you. Cliff and you have had a father daughter relationship from the very beginning. He always looked out for you and made sure to check in a couple times a week.

Returning his smile you nod your head before following him to the hall they were going to be occupying.

Cliff made sure to place you close to the front but out of sight. A couple of the fans in line recognized you and asked for a photo. You'll never get use to people wanting to know you just because of who your boyfriend was.

Robby came on stage with Rich and you laughed along with the crowd at their jokes and act. Before long your man waltzes on stage with Jared not far behind.

Man, he looked better than the last time you'd seen each other if that was even possible.

You watched on as the boys answered question after question. A couple times Jared had to answer them because Jensen was staring at a spot on the floor in front of him and not listening.

Three fans later and you were up next. Jared seen you and winked. Jensen was head down again.

Time for your grand entrance.

"Yeah, I was just wondering if Jensen knows I secretly recording him falling off my horse the last time he was home?"

You could have fallen over just by the look of shock and awe Jensen had when he whipped his head in your direction. No words could describe the love you saw shining in his eyes.

"Yeah Jensen. Do you know this? And y/n I'd like to see this footage." Jared laughed into his mic.

"Over my dead body that ever gets out." Jensen grumbled into his microphone before getting up and making his way to the end of the stage.

"You just going to stand there beautiful or are you going to come see me."

You go running into your man's awaiting arms. His cologne hits you like a brick wall and you feel at home again. You knew he was the one a month after you began dating but this just confirms it.

He takes you hand and leads you back to the seat he was occupying moments ago, "I hope ya'll don't mind if this pretty lady joins our panel."

The crowd goes nuts. Everyone showing their love for us. The smile beaming on your face couldn't be wider.

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

Fan after fan ask the boys questions and shower them in love. You now know why Jensen loves coming to these. It's truly amazing to witness.

The next girl comes up to the microphone and asks her question, shockingly it's for me, "y/n I was wondering what your version of the story goes when it comes to how you and jensen started dating?"

On cue both the men on stage with me burst into laughter remembering the story. Jared hands me his microphone so I can answer.

"I'm not sure what he told you guys, but I know he left out the embarrassing parts. I was out with some friends in Austin on a mini vacation. We were dancing and drinking the night away. As you know I'm a country girl and horse lover so of course I was dressed in jeans, a flannel, and a ball cap. I was at the bar getting another round when I felt someone take my ball cap off my head and replace it with a tan cowboy hat. I whipped around to start yelling at this stupid guy when I came face to face with those gorgeous green eyes."

I look over at the 2 guys with me and they are smiling ear to ear listening to me talk.

"Well hot texan actor or not I wasn't going to put up with it. So I looked him dead in the eyes and told him if he didn't give back my hat I was going to lay him out. Luckily Donna taught him right and I was given back my hat. He told me to keep his, I wore it better. And he wasn't wrong haha. Anyways, the night goes on and we take a smoke break outside. Wouldn't you know this one..." you point back your boyfriend.

"Comes out with some buddies. He walks straight up to me and wraps his arms around my waist. Tells me I can lay him out anyway I desire to so long as I agree to have him take me on a date. Then the guy plants a kiss on my lips."

The crowd is crying from laughing so hard at this point. Who can blame them. Between Jensen and I, we weren't acting in any sense of rational that night.

"Stunned into silence. I agree to this date. When in Texas right. Plus, come on, it's Jensen freaking Ackles. But that's not the best part. These goofs hang with us the rest of the night. At some point Jensen got it in his mind him and I should have a drinking contest. Whoever drinks every shot of whiskey gets to kiss the other. Classy. I win and totally wipe the floor with him, collect my prize. This dumb dumb then proceeded to get on his knees in front of me and ask me to marry him with a ring he had on. No joke. This rest the night he referred to me as his wife."

Everyone is laughing at this point. My boyfriend is red in the face from embarrassment and joy as he remembers our first night together, "hey it worked didn't it."

"Yeah baby it did. Ever since I've been with this crazy wonderful man and I haven't regretted a minute of accepting the drunk proposal."

Just then Rob and Rich come back on stage woth tears in their eyes. Rob gets on his mic, "I've never heard the story told that way before."

Laughing I smile over at my dear friend, "that's because he barely remembers it after all the whiskey."

"Hey I remember. How could I forget. Jared showed me the video the next morning. I was so embarrassed, like great now she thinks I'm some creeper."

"Do you still have it?"

You hold up the hand that Jensen's ring sits proudly on your finger, "never taken it off. I didn't know fully, but I had an idea that he was going to be the one."

Jensen comes up beside you and kisses you softly. When you break apart he leans in close so only you can hear, "Oh baby girl, you're getting it good and hard tonight."

"Promise daddy."

-------------------‐------------------------------------------------

Part 2 coming...

Taglist:

@syrma-sensei @nancymcl @yvonneeeee @foxyjwls007 @lessons-of-red @senjoritanana @leigh70 @tristanrosspada-ackles @maggiegirl17 @neii3n

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n

769 notes · View notes

glassrowboat · 3 months

Text

Orange Ribbon

Word count: 1000+

Authors note: mentions of the reader being short, but to be fair when I think of Itto I still imagine that one photo of him next to Zhongli back before he was released. Itto is seven foot in my heart damnit-

Perhaps this is the perfect hiding spot, tucked behind grandma Oni's house with a stray slab of wood leaned against the wall to cover a few boxes from the rain whenever a storm comes crawling through, and currently yourself too. The treated otogi wood had a familiar smell that filled your senses. Though admiring some lumber wasn't your prime objective of this little game of hide and seek.

Not that you really needed to bother. Shinobu said the boys would be busy today helping put up posters for one of the many odd jobs they tend to pick up just to rake in some cash. Meaning you had all the time in the world to-

And the safe haven shook, the wood peeling back from this old paneled wall of the hut to reveal red horns and wide eyes right on you. A wide smile with pointed teeth that could only belong to one man, or in this case oni. “Look what I got for us!” He called out, hand holding up a small bag that, knowing him, was undoubtedly full of snacks.

So, no time in the world then.

Heh….

Taking a lid to the box you had set the onikabuto in to keep him all nice and secure as you subjected him to dress up time you slowly tried to slide it over the little guy as Itto excitedly talked. “Well my favorite sweetie pie, my bro, I got some strawberry daifuku, melon pan, and I even scored dorayaki!”

Dropping his bag on the box you were slowly sliding the lid over with a nice, hefty thud you couldn't help but jump. Itto was right about the snacks, they were something to get excited over, but not so much so when the little bug inside made a noise from the fright he was unwillingly given. You couldn't even fully click the lid over the box in time as Itto's black nails were poking the lid off as he made a small huh?

“What are you doing to my little buddy?”

The real answer to that? Well, the stray cats in the village have taken to running away from you everything they even caught a sight of your presence. Fully self done, but it still hurt as they turned away from you, fleeing from the person who would snatch them up and cover them in bow ties, little sweaters, or on the rare occasion a top hat for the less squeamish ones. It seems that you've completely lost every cats good graces after treating them like dress up dolls so you were stuck with no choice but to turn to a creature that reasonably couldn't run away. So now there's Crimson Staff being revealed to both your eyes as a bright orange ribbon was wrapped In a neat bow around his horn.

Deflect. Deflect.

“What have I told you about calling me bro?”

“Don't call you bro when I've had my tongue in your mouth? Sorry, babe.” As he spoke, an awkward laugh slipped out of him, sharp fangs on show as he tried to brush it off with a smile. “But what are you doing to my star onikabuto beetle battler?”

Can't have his little champion getting distracted from the ring and all that.

Okay, the first deflection didn't work.

“It's actually for your beetle battles!” You claimed, eyes flicking down to the bright orange fabric. “It's a warning. You know how in nature the most colorful animals are the dangerous ones, right? So this is just like war paint.”

Poison dart frogs are characterized by one very important feature that could only help solidify your point, so clearly, this claim has some backing. Backing Itto only seemed to nod at as he raised a hand to pat the little guy on the back, always so careful to make sure he wouldn't do any actual harm as he did so. “Interesting way to see it.”

Not at all….

“Though I'm not sure an orange ribbon would look more menacing than the bright red color he already has. Or what about that badass looking scar? But I respect the decision.”

“Why thank you for your approval, I'm honored.”

Teasing him didn't work well though when he moved his hand over to pinch at your cheeks, pulling and squishing them at his leisure. “You’re a goof, you know that?”

“Says the town idiot.” A little uncalled for? Yes. Did you care when he was still trying to egg a reaction out of you? No. You didn't even feel bad as your tongue stuck out to point at him.

“Who you callin’ an idiot, short stuff?” How you could see his eyes flicking down to your tongue, or maybe even your lips as he leaned in closer, towering frame crouching down to where you were kneeling close enough to kiss.

So how could you help yourself from pressing a quick smooch to his nose, trying not to giggle outwardly as his eyes crossed to watch your actions. So cute. “You, tall stuff.”

“Oh now you're asking for it, babe.” Reaching his hands out you didn't even have time to squeal as he picked you up, raising you up and into the air as Itto stood back up. There would be no freedom for you to have like this. Especially not when he had such easy access to grab at your ass. “Alright, so let's play a guessing game, yeah?”

Without even bothering to wait for you to say yes, you're down for this, Itto kept talking. “This is because you can't dress up the cats anymore, isn't it?”

Ah…you've been figured out.

“No. Maybe. Okay, yes.”

“Then I volunteer.” Katniss? “Why bother the onikabuto when I'm right here, babe? You can tie all the ribbons you want in my hair. Get some clips too if you want. I'm down for it all.”

“Is-”

“Better yet!” Itto started, cutting you off as he jostled you in his arms to keep you from falling. Mother fucker could've given a warning. “We can get the entire gang in on it. You could make us look all cool and stuff with all sorts of things. So let's get you some ribbons so then I can be the manliest oni on the block.”

“You're…ridiculous.”

“No, I'm all yours.”

Fair. “Yeah, you are.” Grabbing a tussle of his white hair you twirl it around your finger, unable to help yourself from thinking about tying it in all sorts of ways with all the little hair accessories you have back home. Maybe the ones with little skulls, more ribbons, or that one charm Itto had got you after first becoming official. (Shinobu had only told you later Itto had worked for a week straight to get it for you). “Then you're my dress up doll for the next hour, mister. No backsies?”

“None at all. Do to me as you wish, I'm so ready for a makeover!”

Oh, you're gonna make sure he'll regret saying that.

“Challenge accepted.”

Sucker.

#itto x reader #arataki itto #arataki itto x reader #itto #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #gn reader #hoyoverse

87 notes · View notes

valentinekau · 6 months

Text

A Moderneopets Lament, and my last request.

Hiya, the name's Velu, I was recently removed without warning from Moderneopet's art panel for what they called "targeted harassment". I was kept in the dark about what this harassment was but was allowed to think I was offering concise critique with the purpose of keeping things on model as per the artist rules. (there is a post here on tumblr that i will reblog in a moment that succinctly explains) If you've played modneo maybe you've seen, and enjoyed my pets! And if you have, thank you from the bottom of my heart! This was my first attempt at pet art and it was cathartic getting to be a part of a panel of likeminded folks who were open to critique and discussion!

and one that i was excited to debut, finished, and uploaded ready for release as my apparent harassment and infractions were happening unbeknownst to me!

I have been extremely silent after the removal, outside of contacting Hazer, and, after leaving the server and closing connection to anyone who hadn't friend requested me, contacting the only mod I'd had the pleasure of speaking to privately outside of the art director at the time. I do not speak up online about most anything due to being a quiet person, but I'm burned at the turn of events POST being kicked off, and i would like it to be made public the requests I made, and the promises given to me about my artwork.

Since I did not know why I was being kicked off, Hazer was open to my request, so my pets will hopefully be replaced sooner, rather than later, because due to this clause I cannot ask him to remove them because of an issue that was never communicated with me.

I, perhaps out of the want of having even an inkling of what i'd done, contacted a mod to see if i could get info. I had my guesses, and i felt defeated. Hazer specified "Your suspension from the team was brought due to the multiple threads that have been in made in staff channel over the months for you and wrens behaviour", so since none of it had been brought up to me, i went and asked, and was told they could likely do something for me.

I waited 24 hours, i asked for an update. I went onto moderneopets to find this.

I asked the mod for clarification, and i was blocked. So! That's that, i lost access to a community i was enthusiastic about, was told i was targeting and harassing, was offered clarification, not given any, then blocked! Communication is so important, and the last bitterness i'll feel is that while i attempted to discuss and compromise and work with the rest of the team, no one felt the need to tell me something was wrong. So i want to hold them accountable, please get my pets off your website, thank you.

#moderneopets #mod neo #modneo #modern neopets #neopets #moderneo

141 notes · View notes

raaorqtpbpdy · 4 months

Text

Have You Ever...

Danny gets invited to a hero convention as Danny Phantom, and his booth is next to none other than the legendary Ben 10, one of Danny's own favorite heroes. But when the two start playing a modified version of Never-Have-I-Ever to alleviate their boredom between handshakes with fans, they accidentally expose some things they didn't really mean to.

You can also read it on AO3

Written for X-over Danuary Week 2024, Day 1: Ben 10 | Prison Thanks @crossoverdanuary for running this!

I got a late start because I had DnD today, and I finished this at like 10pm, so I didn't have time to edit. I'm planning on editing it later this week, but until then, sorry for any mistakes. [Edit: it has now been edited]

[Warning for mentions of past traumatic experiences]

It was weird to see such a huge convention center so empty.

Well, it wasn't completely empty, but a few people carrying boxes and setting up displays was a significantly smaller crowd than Danny would normally expect to see in a place like this.

"Ah! Danny Phantom you're here!" A woman with a high ponytail and a convention staff t-shirt walked over to him. "Wow, I'm so excited that you actually came!"

Her voice was familiar.

"Sally, right?" he guessed. "Sally Braddock?"

"You remembered!" She said brightly.

Sally had been the one who'd convinced Danny to come to this convention. She'd offered him pretty substantial payment, but it was only when she told him he could have three free tickets to the convention as well that Tucker told him he had to agree or they wouldn't be friends anymore.

So here he was, at San Diego Hero Con, halfway across the country, to sit at a table and sign autographs for a few hours each day, and then do an hour-long panel with a bunch of other teen heroes, and another tomorrow on specifically ghost hunting. (He was still debating whether he should actually show up to that one, or if it would be too dangerous.) The worst part, though, was how early he had to wake up to set up his booth before the event started.

"Here's your presenter badge," Sally said, and handed him a bright yellow name tag clipped to a blue lanyard with the convention's logo on it. "Celebrity meet-and-greets are over there. I'll lead the way. We try not to put them too close to each other or the lines get out of control, but your booth is right next to Ben 10's."

Danny perked up at that. "The alien guy?"

"Yup!"

Oh, man, he hoped he'd get the chance to talk to him. Ben 10 was Danny's favorite superhero. He got to fight real life aliens, sometimes in actual space! And sure, Danny had been to space before that one time Technus had taken over a satellite, but it had still been a ghost fight. It wasn't the same.

"So, this is your table," Sally said, pointing to an empty, white folding table. "Do you have a tablecloth, or banners or headshots or anything?" she asked him with a tight smile.

"Uh.... I don't photograph well," he replied.

Sally sighed. "Well, I can bring over one of the convention tablecloths, but you really should get some kind of poster or cardboard cut-out or something that shows people who they're meeting. And you'll definitely need something to sign. Comic books, or T-shirts. Anything, really. There's a portrait artist in Artists Alley who works pretty fast, her name is Jess. If you get something from her, I can send a gopher to make copies for you to sign."

"Uh, okay? But, I can just call a friend to bring something."

"Whatever works." With that, Sally left to go organize something else.

Danny called up Sam, who was back at the hotel with Tucker—Tucker would no doubt still be sleeping—and asked her to find a nearby print shop and get a Danny Phantom Banner to hang up and a whole bunch of 8x10 illustrations of him. He let her pick the picture, but asked her to please not pick anything too embarrassing.

Right as he hung up, a pair of people approached the booth next to him carrying plastic tubs. It was none other than Ben 10 himself and a tall, furry, blue alien who was no doubt one of his allies. (That or a cosplayer, but since they were with Ben 10 himself, Danny felt safe in assuming that they really were an alien.) The two of them placed their tubs on the floor and opened them up to start unpacking their display.

"Woah, hi!" Danny said, louder than he meant to.

Ben 10 snapped his head around, muscles tensing. Danny recognized that response all too well, and tried not to let out a sympathetic wince.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You're Ben 10, right? I know this is cringey to say, but I'm a huge fan."

"Uh, thanks? Just Ben is fine."

"I'm Danny Phantom, but you can just call me Danny."

"I can see that... uh... nice to meet you?" Ben replied. He seemed uncomfortable. Had Danny come on too strong.

"Something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not," Ben said, though it wasn't very convincing.

"I am Rook Blonko," Ben's companion said, offering Danny a handshake which he excitedly accepted. "It is an honor to meet another hero, though I will admit, it was only recently that I came to learn about you."

"Oh, yeah," Danny let out an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "My scope is a lot more regional and sometimes not very... in this dimension."

"That would be... the Ghost Zone, right?" Ben said casually. "What's it like? Anything like the Null Void?"

So he was at least somewhat familiar with Danny and his exploits. Danny tried not to let that go to his head, but he couldn't help feeling a little giddy nonetheless. Ben laid down a black tablecloth with his logo on it and spread it across his table. This definitely wasn't his first rodeo.

"I don't know about the Null Void," Danny said. "It's like the bottom side of this dimension. It's where ghosts live... or... not live. Reside. Almost everything is green because of all the ectoplasm there, and when humans go there, they can pass right through walls and objects just like ghosts can in this dimension."

"That does not sound like the Null Void at all," Rook observed, pulling rods and boards out of one of the boxes and assembling them into a small standing shelf.

"What's the Null Void like?" Danny asked.

"Mostly red," Ben said with a shrug. "Full of floating islands and enormous aliens. Used as a penal colony for this dimension's worst criminals."

"Oh... yeah, no. Aside from the floating islands, that doesn't sound anything like the Ghost Zone," Danny agreed. "Although it's kind of a cool coincidence that we both have experience with alternate dimensions."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ben looked over at Danny and his sad excuse for a booth—really looking for the first time. "First time at one of these things?"

"Oh yeah," Danny confirmed. "My friend is bailing me out at a print shop right now, but I was so unprepared."

Ben snorted. "Here," he said, digging through one of his boxes and pulling out a bright green swath of fabric. "You can use one of my tablecloths. I brought an extra, just in case. It has my logo on one side, but if you turn it around so the logo faces you no one will be the wiser. We have basically the same color scheme, so it works out."

"Thanks," Danny accepted the tablecloth, slightly surprised, and spread it out over his table. It was almost exactly ectoplasm green, just a shade or two darker. "Have you been to a lot of conventions?"

"A few," Ben said.

"This is your fourth," Rook said.

"That sounds right. If it hadn't been for Rook, I probably would've been just as lost as you at my first one. He's all about preparing in advance. But yeah, I've been a public hero for over a year now, and since my identity isn't a secret anymore, it's easier for the people who run these things to get a hold of me."

"About that... why don't you have a secret identity?"

"It wasn't exactly my choice," Ben replied. "Some kid found it out and exposed me on the internet. It turned out surprisingly well, though, for the most part. Must be nice for you though, not having an alternate identity—not that being dead is nice or anything like that—I mean, it's not a bad thing—or it is a bad thing? I uh... yeah, I don't know what I'm saying."

After taking a moment to parse that rambling sentence, Danny burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Is that why you're acting so uncomfortable around me? Because I'm dead? Ha! You don't have to worry about that. You're fine."

"Serious?"

"Dead serious," Danny replied with a smirk.

Ben shook his head with a soft laugh. "Alright, fine.... Actually, that's not the only reason. Back when I was ten and just starting out I had... a bad experience with a ghost-like alien of mine. Ever since, ghost stuff just puts me a little on edge."

"Oh... I see. Well, don't worry, I won't take it personally," Danny said. "Did you really start doing this when you were ten?"

"Yeah. Although I kinda retired for a few years when I was eleven, and started up again when I was fifteen."

Danny did some quick math in his head. "Oh, so altogether, you and me have been in this for about the same amount of time. 'Cause I got started a little over two years ago."

"Yeah?" Ben was silent for a few moments. He pulled out boxed figurines of his alien forms and lined them up on the shelf Rook had assembled. "So... when did you...."

"Die?" Danny finished for him. "I was fourteen. I'm almost seventeen now. In about three months, I mean."

"Do you still age?"

"Sort of?" Danny shrugged.

He and Jazz had come up with an answer to this question a little while ago, when people noticed that Danny Phantom was starting to look older, even though ghosts supposedly didn't age.

"A ghost's body is a reflection of their mental image of themself. In the Zone, ghosts don't really age or change unless something specific happens that makes them feel older or different. Because I spend so much time in the human world still, because I learn and grow with each fight, I still feel like I'm growing up, so I look like I'm growing up, too."

"That is fascinating," Rook said. "I would love to learn more about ghostly biology."

"I would love to tell you about it. Problem is, I really don't know that much," Danny told him apologetically. He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm a superhero, not a scientist."

"I'm here!" Sam called, her heavy combat boots tromping into the room. She was carrying a large cardboard box. "I would have been here sooner, but I had to put together a design for the banner. Luckily I found a printer that could make one for you on short notice like this, or you'd be screwed."

"You're a life saver!"

"You wish," she scoffed. "I got you a banner and three hundred head shots."

"That's not gonna be enough," Ben said immediately.

"Ya think?" Sam asked.

"Trust me."

She sighed heavily in annoyance. "Okay, I can go back and get some more, but you so owe me, Danny."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, taking the box from Sam. "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, taking one of the head shots off the top of the stack and leaving again.

"Is that your friend?" Ben asked.

"One of them," Danny confirmed, setting the box down on the table. "That's Sam. She and Tucker have been with me since the beginning. He's probably still asleep at the hotel."

He pulled out a stack of head shots for the table and slid the box with the rest underneath. She'd picked a good picture. It was a poster illustration for a local ghost awareness presentation he'd done a while back, and he nearly sighed with relief when he saw it. He'd been half afraid she'd pick one of the grainy newspaper photos of him in his underwear.

"That's cool," Ben said. "Yeah, I don't think anyone could do this job without allies. When I first started, I had my Grandpa and my cousin, then my cousin and my best friend, and now I have Rook as my partner."

"We have been together for a year," Rook added.

"Like... together together or...?"

"Working partners," Ben clarified insistently. "It's not like that."

"Oh, okay, my bad."

Hoping to alleviate his embarrassment, Danny unfurled his new banner and flew up to hang it on the wall behind his booth. It looked cool, but not too complicated. Just his name and logo and a little bit of ghost designs around the edges. Sam had done a good job with it.

"You are not the first to think that," Rook consoled. "It is a more common assumption than one might think."

They continued chatting idly while they set up their booths. Danny got to ask Rook what kind of alien he was, and what his home planet was like. Sam showed up with a whole bunch more photos and then immediately abandoned them to get a sneak preview of artist alley before she came back as an attendee.

Just before the convention center officially opened, Danny worked up the courage to ask Ben for an autograph, and Ben obliged him with a smile, offering an exchange, rather than asking for payment. Danny eagerly accepted, signing one of his own pictures and trading it for Ben's. Ben's looked far more professional than his own. He hoped people wouldn't be disappointed.

As people started trickling in past the security checkpoint up front, both heroes only got a few people in the beginning. After only about twenty minutes of boredom, Ben suggested they play a game.

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What game?"

"My buddy Kevin calls it Reverse-Never-Have-I-Ever, and my cousin calls it Have-You-Ever." Ben said. "See, we could never play regular Never-Have-I-Ever, because we all knew all the weird stuff we'd done and we'd target each other mercilessly. With this version, You say something you have done, and anyone who hasn't done it loses a point. If everyone's done it, no one loses a point."

"Okay... I think I get the idea, but why don't you start? Five fingers or ten?"

"Let's start with five," Ben said. "Rook, you playing?"

"I will pass," Rook said. "I always lose this game."

"Alright, if that's what you want." Ben shrugged. "Alright, Danny, have you ever... transformed into a different species?"

"Yes."

"You have?!"

"Uh, yeah. I went from human to ghost. Duh."

"Oh... right, duh," Ben agreed, shaking his head at how foolish he'd been to blow his first question like that. "Wow, I can't believe I didn't even think about that...."

"My turn, right?" Danny said. "Have you ever fought an evil alternate version of yourself?"

"Yeah, like six of 'em."

"Okay, well, now you're just showing off."

Ben smirked. "Oh, I never get to use this one on my friends. Have you ever been to space?"

Danny smirked right back. "One of my rogues possessed an orbital satellite."

"Damn it!"

Someone walked over to Danny's table and he smiled at her, pointedly ignored the way she shivered when he shook her hand, and signed a photo for her.

"Okay," he said, shifting his attention back to the game, "have you ever... been cut in two."

"I regenerated, but yeah."

"How?" Danny demanded.

"Plant alien."

"I should've guessed. Stupid plant creatures with their stupid regenerative powers. Undergrowth-ass alien. Lame."

Ben laughed at him while he signed a figurine for a fan who came to his table. "How about this. Have you ever fought a medieval-style knight?"

"A knight? Hold on." Danny considered that for a moment. Had he? He'd rescued Sam from Dora's realm that one time, and yeah, he'd definitely had to fight the ghosts of knights then. Oh! Also Fright Knight. How could he forget about him. "Yes, I have definitely fought knights on several occasions. Ghost knights, obviously."

"Ugh! I really thought I had you with that one. Why do ghosts who died a thousand years ago have to stick around for so long?"

"Nope!" Danny teased. "Okay, how about this one. Have you ever fought a ghost?"

"Define ghost?" Ben asked.

"The law defines a ghost as any creature which produces ectoplasm, is composed of ectoplasm, or requires ectoplasm to survive," Danny recited.

There was no need to say which law—that would be the anti-ecto acts. It was stupid that those stupid acts were still even law when public support of ghosts had never been higher. Although, they hadn't been as heavily enforced the last year or so, since the G.I.W. lost a lot of funding after repeatedly failing to catch their most wanted, Danny.

"Then yes, I have," Ben said. "Have you ever fought an alien?"

"Define alien."

"A creature originating from a planet or plane other than Earth."

"Then yes, ghosts."

"Ah ah ah!" Ben argued. "Ghosts are the spirits of dead humans, which means they originate on Earth."

"Except that not all ghosts are the spirits of dead humans," Danny countered right back. "Many ghosts originally formed inside the Ghost Zone, which makes them, by your definition, aliens, and I have fought them, too. Also I fought off some Incurseans back when they invaded the Earth a little while back. It was awesome."

Ben groaned.

"Haha! Gotcha!"

"Just go already."

"Have you ever died?"

"Ha! Yes, I have," Ben said, as if dying was some huge victory. "You probably thought you had me, but you were wrong. I may have been brought back through alien magic and/or time travel, but yes, I have died. Speaking of which, have you ever time-traveled."

"Psh, have I time traveled?" Danny scoffed. "I have literally met the Ancient, omniscient Master of Time. He's a huge pain in the neck."

It was at this point that more people started accumulating at the two heroes' tables. Some got in line for autographs, though both Ben and Danny were too engrossed in their game at this point to give their full attention. Others just stood, watching, and listening to the two of them. A few even started filming their little game.

"Alright, my turn," Danny said. "Have you ever... oh, I have a good one! Have you ever had to fight your best friend after he copied your powers which then caused him to lose his mind and become evil?"

"Literally how?!" Ben shouted.

"Is that a no?"

"No, I meant 'literally how' as in how has something that specific happened to both of us?"

"No way!"

"Yes way! That's happened to Kevin more than once."

"What?!"

"I know, right?"

"It is also strange for this game to go so long without any of the participants losing a point," Rook said. "I believe it is at this point that I would have lost, had I been participating."

"You put up a good fight, Rook," Ben joked.

"But... I was not playing?"

"I was teasing, Rook."

"Ah, yes."

"Whose turn is it now?" Ben asked. "Mine, right?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed.

"Have you ever had a limb severed?"

"Yes, but I'm a ghost, so I reattached it pretty easily. Have you ever altered the fabric of reality?"

"I once had to recreate the entire universe after it got destroyed, and then went on intergalactic trial for doing it. And the worst part is, ever since then, grape smoothies just don't taste the same. It's so frustrating. I did get this super comfortable hoodie out of it, though."

"Ew, smoothies?" Danny grimaced. "What are you a yoga mom?"

Ben stood up, slamming a hand on his table and with the other, he pointed accusingly at Danny. "Smoothies are delicious, screw you!"

"You're just frustrated because I'm winning."

"You're not winning, neither of us have lost a single point! But you will!" Ben declared. "Have you ever saved the whole entire universe."

"Yes."

"What?" Ben fell back into his chair, deflated.

"A while back, this one group, the G.I.W. tried to destroy the Ghost Zone with a special anti-ghost nuke, and I stopped them. The Ghost Zone is the flip side of our dimension, so if it had been destroyed, it would have taken our universe along with it. Hence, I saved the universe. I just didn't let it get all over international news first."

"Boo!"

"Isn't that my line?" Danny said.

Ben threw a sharpie at him and he turned intangible and let it pass right through him while he laughed at his own joke.

"Anyway, have you ever visited an alternate timeline where the entire earth is barren and desolate and the alternate version of you rules supreme?"

"Yes, I call it the Mad Universe, because it looked like Mad Max, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can see it. But really? You have?"

"Yup. The alternate version of Rook was a jerk."

Rook frowned but didn't have the chance to say anything before Ben kept talking.

"Have you ever... I don't know... every time I go weirder, you just match me. Have you ever had a family member be friends with one of you enemies?"

"Yeah, my dad considers my archenemy his best friend in the world," Danny said. "The feeling is not mutual, though. Have you ever been imprisoned by one of your enemies?"

"More times than I can count. Have you ever asexually reproduced?"

"Do clones count?"

"No!" Ben refused.

"Yes," Rook argued, possibly still upset about Ben's jerk comment. "Technically, cloning is a form of asexual reproduction."

"But could they fly?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to asexual reproduction, but yes," Danny said. "They were ghosts. They could fly. Most of them were too unstable to survive though. There's only one left." He frowned.

"Oh... sorry."

"It's... fine." It wasn't fine. He still found himself lying awake at night thinking about them sometimes. Danny shook his head and plastered on a determined grin. "I really think I've got you this time, though."

"Do you?" Ben did not sound convinced.

"Have you ever had to fight sentient food that was not still alive?"

"Y—wait...." Ben frowned as he thought about it for a long moment. "No... I haven't."

"Yes!" Danny cheered and Ben buried his head in his hands, humiliated. "This puts me in the lead."

"Not for long," Ben said. "Have you ever eaten food from another planet?"

"Wha—noooo...."

"Ha!"

"We're dead even again."

Their game continued.

"Have you ever fought a cult's subject of worship?"

"Have you ever had a Christmas-themed battle?"

"Have you ever fought on the same side as one of your enemies?"

"Have you ever been called upon to end a war?"

"Have you ever unexpectedly developed a new power that caused you trouble?"

"Have you ever used your powers to get out of other responsibilities?"

"Have you ever had to skip out on something you were really looking forward to and save the day?"

"Have you ever been blamed for property damage your enemies caused just because you happened to be there at the time?"

"Have you ever been mind controlled?"

"Have you ever fought an evil circus?"

The game kept going on and on, while they absently shook hands and signed autographs, with neither of them giving up another point. Until Sally showed up to tell them it was time to go to the teen hero panel they were on.

It was only then that they looked up and saw all the cameras that had been recording their game. How long had they been recording? How much had they gotten?

"Uh... right," Ben said. "Sorry everyone. You can come back for autographs after the panel. And Danny, I think we're gonna have to call it a draw."

"We'll have to have a rematch some other time," Danny said, trying to keep his tone light, despite his sudden anxiety.

Sally led the two of them to a large room with rows upon rows of empty seats, right down the aisle to the stage up front where a man in his thirties was already standing, and a masked teenage girl with glowing pink hair and eyes was sitting behind the table.

"Hello, I'm John and I'll be moderating this panel," the man introduced. "This is Lucky Girl, another teen hero we invited. Lucky Girl, this is Ben 10 and Danny Phantom."

"Nice to meet you," Danny said.

"I can't believe they roped you into this," Ben said, smiling at the girl like he knew her.

"Shut up," the girl barked back. "We can't all gain international fame overnight, and I have to pay for student housing."

"You two already know each other?" John asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, we've known each other for a long time," Ben said. "All our lives, in fact."

"Ben, I swear if you give me away I will hex you so bad your children's children's children will travel for miles just to spit on your grave."

Ben put up his hands in surrender, and took his seat without another word. Danny followed his lead. This Lucky Girl didn't seem like the kind of person he wanted to mess with.

Once they were all in their seats, John gave them a quick run down of how the panel would go. He would ask a few questions. They would answer. He would open it up to questions from the audience, and they would answer those too. After an hour, the panel would be over, and they would return to their booths, or in Lucky Girl's case, simply leave, as she apparently didn't have a booth.

"She uses her powers to disguise herself, but she can't keep that up for more than an hour and a half," Ben whispered to Danny, clearly sensing his confusion. "She'll probably hang around for a little while after to greet fans, but she'll have to leave when her mana's drained."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Danny whispered back, nodding. "I was worried it might be like a sexism thing."

"As if she'd stand for something like that," Ben scoffed.

Soon enough, the doors opened, and people started trickling in. The seats filled up with mostly teens and young adults, with a few parents and older adults sprinkled in. Danny noticed Sam and Tucker come in and sit in the back row and waved at them. Rook was also sitting in the back row, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although, it seemed like most people thought he was a cosplayer, so he didn't really have to bother hiding.

When the doors closed, John started the panel.

The first part was easy.

John asked questions like: "How do you balance being a hero with the other responsibilities you have as an adolescent?"

"Honestly, not well. You know how people say 'you can sleep when you're dead'? Yeah, that's a lie."

"I'm lucky enough to have a good memory so I don't have to study much, otherwise my grades in school would tank. For me, the real struggle is finding time to do chores."

"I prioritize my other responsibilities. I don't usually face world-ending, city-destroying threats like these two, which allows me the luxury of saving hero work for after my homework is finished."

And: "Where do you go when you want to de-stress after saving the day?"

"I usually go over to my friends' and play video games. I feel safe around them."

"If the sun's still up, Mr. Smoothie. But if it's late, I like to go out for chili fries."

"The library. I know it makes me sound like a nerd, but whatever. I am a nerd. Who cares."

And: "How do your parents figure in to you heroic activities?"

"They... don't know. They don't exactly have a great opinion of ghosts, and they don't recognize me when... I mean, they don't recognize me anymore. So I guess they don't figure in." That wasn't entirely true, but Danny wasn't about to say they shot at him in front of a crowd of hundreds of people.

"My parents are actually very supportive. At first, they wanted me to quit, because they were worried about my safety, but I changed their minds. They raised me to know right from wrong, and to help others whenever I can, and they're proud of me."

"My parents don't know either, and I don't live with them right now because I live on my school campus, so I guess, like Phantom, my parents don't really figure in either."

They were easy questions to answer, even if Danny didn't always tell the whole truth. John kept things light, focusing mostly on them being teenagers, and how being a hero affected that aspect of their life, rather than the other way around. There were a couple questions about battles and enemies, but for the most part, they avoided the heavy stuff.

Then, about halfway into the panel, John opened it up to the audience to ask questions.

They didn't shy away from the heavy stuff.

"Hi, I'm Mandy, big fan," said a girl with curly brown hair. "I have two questions for Ben, first is, are you dating anyone?"

Ben chuckled, trying to sound amused, even though, up close, Danny could tell the question made him uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dating right now."

The girl giggled for a moment before asking her next question. "My next question is: when you're fighting an alien invasion basically by yourself, do you ever feel afraid?"

Ben didn't answer right away. He took a breath, and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I know I'm strong, and there's a lot that I can do and have done, but when I'm outnumbered a thousand to one, yeah, I'm a little afraid."

"Not that you were ever actually by yourself," Lucky Girl pointed out.

"Heh," Ben rubbed his neck awkwardly. "That's true. Even if there weren't many, I've always had people in my corner."

The next person who stepped up was a guy in a Danny Phantom T-shirt which read 'it's not gay if he's dead.'

Danny immediately groaned and Ben grinned hugely. "Before you ask your question, I have a question for you. Where did you get that shirt?"

"I got it at a souvenir shop when I went to Amity Park, but I think you can buy them online, too," they guy said.

"I'm getting one."

Danny groaned even more insistently.

"My question is for Phantom. If you hadn't died, do you think you still would have become a hero, and protected your home from ghosts?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Danny admitted. "Amity Park does have other ghost hunters, the Fentons and Red Huntress, for example. If I hadn't d... if I didn't have my powers, I wouldn't really have the ability to protect anybody. I'd probably leave it to the ghost hunters who were better equipped."

"And for Lucky Girl, are you single?"

"Ha ha no," she said flatly. "I have a boyfriend."

"Figures."

Next up was a girl in some pretty fantastic Lucky Girl cosplay. Her wig even lit up. Although she looked like she was quite a bit taller than the real thing.

"Lucky Girl, do your periods ever interfere with fighting crime?"

"Uh... that's a bit personal," Lucky Girl said instantly, as if the answer was instinctive.

But when she saw the way the girl reacted like she'd been slapped, hunching in on herself with shame, Lucky Girl bit her lip and answered anyway.

"Actually... the life of a superhero is really stressful. The kind of stress that has... biological effects. When I first started fighting crime as, like, a regular thing, I didn't have a period for months. When I finally did again it was... you know what, I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it was really bad. Like, my doctor prescribed me pills to stop me from menstruating bad. So... I guess the answer to your question is 'not anymore' and also sorry for the TMI." She finished with a short grimace.

"Thank you for answering," the girl said before going to sit back down.

Ben covered his mic and turned to her. "How come I never knew about that?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucky Girl muttered back. "Like I'm gonna discuss my cycle with a fifteen-year-old boy."

Ben didn't even attempt to argue with that.

As... much as those questions were, it was the next one that really stopped everything in its tracks.

"Hi, I'm Michael. I don't know if you know about this video that's going around. It was only posted, like, less than an hour ago, but it's really blown up in fan circles already," the young man said. "The video shows Phantom and Ben 10... I guess playing a game or something? Where you guys are asking each other if you'd done certain things and basically comparing experiences with each other? Do you know it?"

Ben and Danny shot each other anxious looks.

"Uh... I haven't seen it, but I think we know what you're talking about," Ben answered cautiously. "Is that your question?"

"No, my question is... well, in the video you guys are talking about alternate timelines, and fighting evil versions of yourselves, and getting mind-controlled, and changing reality. I guess my question is. Did all that stuff really happen to you guys?"

Neither Ben nor Danny wanted to answer. They didn't look at each other, or the crowd. They deeply regretted playing a game that revealed such personal secrets in a public space.

Finally, Ben cleared his throat. "Yes, all that happened." Danny nodded his own confirmation. "The life we lead is a dangerous one, and it demands sacrifices, and it takes a lot from you, and it puts you in a lot of strange situations that few others can understand. It's... not for everyone."

The next fan stepped up to the mic. "Follow up questions. First, how are you guys like... functional? Because I mean, if I'd gone through the kind of stuff you were talking about in that video, I think I'd have a mental breakdown. Second, why would you put yourselves through all that?"

"Well, first off, bold of you to assume I've never had a mental breakdown," Danny said. "And secondly, if we don't do it, who will?" he asked. "We're not just random ordinary high schoolers who up and decided to subject ourselves to unspeakable trauma just for the fun of it.

"We do this because we have the power to do things others can't, to fight enemies other people can't fight. We do this because if we don't... if we don't, people die. Or worse. People experience the kind of things we do trying to protect them. So I guess the answer to both of your questions is, what other choice do we have?"

"Yeah, exactly what Danny said," Ben agreed. "I tried to give up my powers, and my responsibilities once, and people got hurt because of it. My grandpa.... Because I wanted to live a normal life, to take it easy, there was no one else to protect them. It is every individual's responsibility to do what they can to help others. It just so happens that we can do more than most, and that comes with drawbacks.

"Lucky Girl, care to weigh in? You weren't in the video, but I know you've had your share of superhero related trauma."

"I think you guys pretty much covered it," she replied. "I don't think I've been through quite as much as you two, but I definitely know about the sacrifices we make for this life. I also know that it's worth it to know that the people and places you love are safe and protected because of you."

The boy's both nodded in agreement.

The questions didn't really lighten up after that. "What's the worst experience you've ever had as a hero?" "Have you ever failed to protect someone?" "We heard Ben 10 say so already, but have you ever wanted to quit, or wished you never had powers in the first place?"

After a point, John noticed how uncomfortable they were getting and had to step in and ask that the next few questions not be so dark.

A younger girl, maybe even a middle schooler, hand mercy on them at last, and asked, "What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you while you were saving the day?" and from there the questions finally eased up.

It felt like it had been far longer than an hour when the session ended, and they left the stage and returned to their booths to sign autographs and shake hands and listen to dozens of people gushing, "I'm you're biggest fan!"

They didn't pick up their game again, even when things got slow. Evidently they'd learned their lesson. And they kept learning it as more and more of the people who came to visit them asked about that video. Each time Danny had to smile and laugh it off, the regret deepened.

It had been a while since he felt like such a complete idiot. Since he'd done something so thoughtless. He'd gotten a lot better at keeping secrets over the years, but he'd just been so excited to talk with someone he had so much in common with—and yeah, he'd probably gotten a little too competitive also. He should have known better.

"So uh... I was at your panel earlier," said a girl who placed a science magazine on the table for him to sign. The cover touted an article about 10 Things You Didn't Know About Ghosts (they have their own culture!). Danny remembered doing that interview.

"That's nice, thanks for coming," Danny said, his smile tensing. "Do you want me to sign the cover, or the page with the article."

"The cover please," the girl said. "For Marnie. And um... I was too nervous to stand up and ask before, but... I was really curious."

"Oh?" Danny asked, keeping his eyes on his hand as he signed the cover 'To Marnie, stay spooky'.

"Why would you make it a game?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better to try to forget all those things?"

"Easier said than done," Danny said. "Things like that stay with you. Turning them into a joke or a game takes the power away from those bad memories. When you're laughing at your fears, what can they do to you? That's the way I see it. Ben might have another reason, and technically, it was his game. He came up with it."

"So... what you're saying is, laughter is the best medicine?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Danny agreed. He slid the magazine back to her. "Thanks for coming by."

Finally, Danny's shift was over, and Ben's ended at the same time. Just in time, too, because Danny was just about out of photos. He'd have to get more for tomorrow. He signed his last picture with a sigh of relief, thankful that the convention staff had come by to cut off the line when it was about time for him to be finished.

"You finished too, Danny?" Ben asked.

"Yup."

"You wanna go get lunch with us? Wait... do ghosts eat?"

"We do, but I was gonna meet up with my friends for lunch today, and then explore the convention a little." Danny said. "Are you gonna be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm here for the whole con," Ben said. "Here, let me give you my number. We should keep in touch."

"Totally!" Danny agreed. "It'll be nice to have an actual superhero friend. I love Sam and Tucker, but there are some things...."

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

After swapping numbers the two of them headed off to their separate engagements. Danny transformed and got to experience what else Hero Con had to offer without getting swarmed by fans like he saw happening to Ben that afternoon.

They met up again the next day. Chatted at their booths, had lunch together, checked out the fan artists, just hung out for a while. This time around, Danny didn't have his human form to protect him from the crowds.

That video of their game haunted them both for the rest of the convention. People kept bringing it up until it became almost more annoying than mortifying.

When Hero Con finally ended, they both breathed sighs of relief. The convention was over, but Ben and Danny kept in touch. They never did have that rematch though. In fact, they were both pretty much done with 'Have-You-Ever'.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #ben 10 #ben tennyson #gwen tennyson #fic #things i wrote #crossover danuary week #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover #party games #past trauma #humor #dp x ben 10 #dp crossover #dialogue heavy

65 notes · View notes