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apparentlyaswarmofbees · 4 years

Text

Small Things to Imagine With The Seven Brothers and The Undatables

Honestly there are so many things I can write on this but I didn't want to repeat anything. I actually had a fun time comming up with ideas.

Lucifer

Late night tired hugs where you pay his office a visit and he buries himself on your chest, breathing deeply and hugging your waist firmly yet gently, letting his fingers travel up and down your spine. He is always reluctant to let go after fully charged.

Protectivelly tucking you under his wings while in demon form.

Affectionate forehead kisses as he holds your cheeks.

Lucifer unconsciously leaning into your touch as you caress his face, pushing back a few strands of hair out of his fluttering eyes.

Him gently pinching your cheek with the back of his fingers as he promises to take you out on a date later that night.

Lucifer's deep and steady breaths besides you as he sleeps on his bed, wrinckles and stress gone, making him look younger.

Mammon

Firm and playfull hands grabbing your shoulders from behind as he rests his chin on top of your head. Look up and he will grin.

Knuckle kisses in hopes of giving you confort, a way of saying he will always be there for you whenever you need.

Double hugs as his wings slightly wrap around your legs for a few seconds as he firmly holds your waist at the same time.

Swinging your arms back and forth while holding hands.

Mammon sleeping on you as you both lay down on his couch, your hands on his scalp, his glasses hastly thrown on the side table, his arms losely wrapped around your middle.

Playing with each other's hands and fingers. His rings ending up on your own fingers, random thumb fights and lots of giggles.

Leviathan

Trying to distract each other as you both play footsies in the middle of a game battle.

Recieving sudden earlobe and cheek kisses as you watch him play.

Tail hugs. He always gives your waist a little squeeze before letting go.

Leviathan lending you his headphones to listen to whatever you want.

Tripping on air and bringing the other down too.

Interlocking pinkies.

Spending hours simply singing with each other without even beeing at a karaoke.

Early mornings at dawn, waking up around his arms to the soft noise of finger tapping on the phone before he puts his D.D.D. back down to go back to sleep.

Leviathan's squeals as you tickle him, bringing a mischiveous light to his eyes in response.

Satan

Having an entire conversation in cat noises and gestures.

Sitting on a bench together shoulder to shoulder and holding hands as Satan nuzzles his cheek on your head.

Sweet, gentle kisses on your temple.

The feeling of his hair between your fingers and the sight of him turning his head slightly up to look at you from his book as he lays on his back in between your legs.

Sudden feet tickles as you leave them unprotected with him at range. The shocked look on his face and the gasp as he quickly curls up his legs when you give him your revenge.

Dancing playfully and clumsly to only the sound of your held in laughs.

Asmodeus

The boysterous laugh of Asmo after you surprise him by blowing on his belly.

Teasing nips at your ear after you tell him you guys need to get up.

The overflowing excitement as he grabs both your hands and moves them around as he pleases in between his daily tea spills.

The feeling of having your cheek poked by the toes of his feet when he wants your attention and you are too far away.

Bunny kisses.

Holding each other impossibly close, the loud noises of the club fades into the background as you stare into each others eyes filled with both hunger and limitless adoration.

Beelzebub

Grabbing your hand and tucking it on his jacket's pocket, not letting go.

Giving him a bite of a sandwich and the sight of him craning his neck in attempt to snap the cheese.

Beel randomly taking pictures of you whenever he finds you attractive, leading to a picture of you taking a picture of him on your own D.D.D.

Sitting on his shoulders, his hands firmly holding onto your tighs as he gazes up to you with a smile as you give his hair a ruffle.

Surprise pecks on your fingers as you hand feed him.

Running around in circles as both of you try to whip each other with a towel after workout.

Belphegor

Flopping right on top of him as he is sleeping making him let out a small 'oof'.

Lazy pillow fights consisting on hitting each other only when they least expect.

Having Belphie's tail hit you in the face on purpose when he wants your attention.

Messing each other's hair at most unconventional times.

Loose back hugs that turn into a full bear hug as he presses his entire body on you.

Nose pinches.

Walking past you but not before leaving a sneaky peck on your lips.

Solomon

Having random things be put on your head, ranging from hair clips to various types of crowns to a cup.

Wrapping you up with his cape and making a you-burrito.

Talking to him as he looks down at you from another floor entirely.

Solomon's concentrated face as he tries new spells, only breaking once his eyes flicks to you, the concentration lost now to make place to a smile.

Tickling your nose and ears with a feather.

Late night horror stories with Solomon shining a flashlight under his chin for dramatic effects.

Solomon making ridiculous poses as you try to take a picture of him off guard.

Simeon

Gently tucking your hair behind your ears.

Nose boops.

Swaying side to side as he holds both your hands from behind with a back hug.

Sharing food with each other.

Late night pillow talks, Simeon leaning on his elbow, one of his hands caressing your shoulder. He looks at you lovingly as he tucks the covers higher up your shoulders before kissing you good night.

Diavolo

Having a light chat while sitting on his lap, Diavolo's arms resting losely around your waist as he keeps his gaze locked into yours.

Kisses given by him just where your heart rests.

Being scorted around with you holding onto his arm.

Tucking flowers everywhere on each other, behind ears, on the colar of a shirt, on a pocket, everywhere.

The feeling of his uncontroled smile as he gives you a big smooch on the cheek and the feeling of the same smile when you are the one giving it.

The soft carressing of his thumb as he craddles your hand with his own.

Barbatos

Playfully smearing food over your face while cooking together.

Drawing on your face whenever he has a pen and you are at drawable range.

Barbatos almost walking past by but turning back around as you call his attention, feeding him a sample of your food before he struts away again.

Holding your chin up with his gloved hand before leaning for a kiss.

Water fights while doing the dishes.

Doing that little dance where you shake your shoulders while leaning in and out with him.

(Head empty, I used my last braincell for this. It was screaming this idea at me for days now. I had to write it.)

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

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rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

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

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor , @spencerreid9

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #i just cannot stop myself from writing about mental health issues and treatment can i

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atzsslut · 3 years

Text

requested by @let-this-be-a-lesson from this, and this list.

chosen prompt(s) :

#1 - “Is that my sweater?”

#11 - “If you were my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

pairing : bang chan x fem ! reader

genre : fluff

warnings : long time best friends, very obvious crushing, kind of more than friends (unidentified relationship) to lovers, implied slow burn

word count : 2.4k words

You promised to meet Chan almost an hour ago.

The adrenaline coursed through your body as you ran out of the bathroom after a shower, which was relatively dangerous but you didn’t care, sprinting back to your room to get into some decent clothing.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you almost punched it from the frustration. But you didn’t, of course, as if you didn’t have enough bad luck already.

Are you that stupid to have fallen asleep on the couch? You thought to yourself. You were much too thankful that you already washed your hair in the morning, so it looked good enough now.

As you dropped your towel, you swore that you’ve never grabbed such a mismatched set of underwear and bra before, but it didn’t matter. You’d opt yourself to become quicksilver if it was for Chan.

Your hands let themselves skim through until your phone lit up on top of your cupboard and showed three notifications from the man himself. You froze in your spot reading the following messages.

chan: okay :( if u insist [5:02 PM]

chan: but since u seem tired [5:03 PM]

chan: i’ll pick u up since i’m only 10 mins away [5:03 PM]

Your mind went back to when you had woken up to three missed calls from Chan, various texts asking if you were alright since you never missed a ‘hangout’. At least, that’s what you two always called your frequent meets.

Your first instinct was to call him back, your voice rather nasally from the blocked nose you always got after sleeping. His kind voice kept replaying in your head;

“Chan, I’m so so sorry-”

“Oh, did you just wake up?”

“I.. yes. Yes I did. I’m so sorry, I fell asleep because I ran a million errands up until 3pm.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Do you want to move our hangout to some other day? I think I’m quite free this week.”

“No, no. I need to see you, honestly. My stress has piled up and it’ll be great to see you. You always cheer me up.”

“I try my best, Y/N. I’ll wait for you as long as you’d like. Go get ready!”

“Will do, Mr. Bang. Thank you so so much!”

The last thing you heard after the call ended was his farewell that was mixed in with his infectious laugh, and that was when you ran towards the shower to get the thin layer of sweat that always came after a nap in the living room.

Your fingers quickly typed away a ‘did god send u down to me as my angel or smthn THANK U BANG CHAN’ before going back to rushing to pick out a nicer outfit.

Because of him willing to pick you up, you had an extra ten minutes to get ready but your mind was still blank from the adrenaline rush. You had picked yourself out a cream-coloured pleated skirt, but you had no idea what to pair it with until you saw a familiar black sweater pushed to the back of the drawer.

You weren’t too sure why it was familiar to you, but it was nice enough for you to use with the skirt. For a reason you couldn’t pinpoint, it hugged your body well enough, but the area where you could see the stitch of the shoulders were clearly too broad for you, falling around the middle of your upper arms.

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember buying this but it’s so comfortable.

And just like he said, Chan was there in ten minutes, voice heard through your apartment intercom, asking you to come downstairs. Although you tried to ignore it, you were excited just from hearing his voice through that old system speaker.

Taking the elevator down to the lobby, you smiled seeing the boy standing around, clearly waiting for you to come down, as he kept shifting his feet.

It was music to his ears as well when he heard you call out his name. Although he would never admit it, or so he thinks, he swore that he heard a hymn whenever ‘Chan’ spilled from your lips. But he shook that away when he reached in for a side hug.

“Hey you.” he said, “You look awfully fresh for someone who just woke up.”

“I work my magic.” you boasted, not wanting to admit the fuss you made for him. Since Chan was a bit taller than you, not by too much (which you teased him about, but he only let it be because it was you), you held onto him as well by slinging your arm around his waist.

And as you both walked to the parking lot at the front, stuck together like two pieces of paper with a hefty amount of glue in the middle, that was when Chan stopped right in front of his car.

You looked at him with concern, thinking that he’d probably left something inside, “Did you forget something?”

He paused, looking at you with the face he’d make whenever Felix did something strange. That wasn’t new, but you felt flustered when he let you go and stood in front of you, arms crossed, eyes checking out your whole body.

You looked at him strange, not understanding what he was doing. Your hand only clutched your bag strap harder, not understanding the situation. But before you could say anything, he cut you off.

“Is that my sweater?”

And the realization hit you.

A few months ago, Chan had gone to your place to spend some time with you after not getting to meet you for three weeks. But of course, the two of you did not look at the weather forecast when a rainstorm dawned over the whole of Seoul.

You insisted that Chan should not be driving in this weather in fear of a accident, but he did have to get his car to the indoor parking lot incase it began to hail. However, once he had gotten back, the umbrella you had given him was soaked and so was he, the two of you getting into a hysterical laughing fit at the state he was in.

In all seriousness, you did quickly get him out of the clothes he was wearing and washed them, shyly looking away when he directly began to take his shirt off in the living room until you yelled “Chan! I have a bathroom!”

However, as the night passed, after he slept in the same bed as you, finding his arm around your waist in the morning to which he quickly pulled away in surprise— he left with only his jeans and socks that had been dry cleaned.

“Oh shit, this is your sweater!” you swore, the event having replayed itself in your forgetful mind, “I’ll clean it after this and give it back to you.”

“Oh, no. You look better in it than I do.” he complimented.

In between your reminiscing, he had clicked the car key, making the vehicle make the familiar unlocking sound and flashing lights. Running over to your side, he opened the door for you.

“M’lady.” he offered,

“M’Chan.” you joked, only to laugh for a bit then go in with a murmured, “Sorry that was cheesy.”

“It was!” he admitted, yelling so you could hear him through the car glass since you closed the door already. He did his little jog over to the drivers seat and went it rather smoothly, not that you were impressed by that.

“So, arcade?” he asked, smiling when you nodded and tapped excitedly on his dashboard.

Once again, in ten minutes, the two of you had reached the destination, quickly running out as if the both of you were six, and not in your early 20s.

As you ran into building, fluorescent hitting your eyes with a familiar nostalgia coming alongside them, much too familiar from the high school days of you and Chan going to another arcade that was already closed down now.

“So, what do you want to do first?” you asked, as if you didn’t guess the answer already.

Chan looked forward, scanning the place more and finally seeing a row of big, bulky, metal boxes that couldn’t be missed. He pointed at them, rather cutely to add, smiling down at you.

You gave him an excited grin back, happy that you guessed right in your head. You walked ahead, pleased to hear him tread behind you at a faster pace to catch up with you.

Drawing back the curtain, the two of you went inside and swiped the arcade card that you had because of several trips that were forced by your auntie with your little cousins. Luckily, there was still money inside.

The recognizable ‘twinkling’ sound of the photo booth rang in both your ears, opting you to choose the frame decor, etc.

And as the screen showed both your faces, a robotic voice was heard through the same speakers at the sides of the booth, stating ‘please move more towards the centre, thank you’

But if anyone were to look inside, you and Chan were already considerably close, especially since the bench space wasn’t wide at all. But you side-eyed the boy, scooting closer to him as he did the same to you.

You felt his arm squish against yours, feeling flustered at the sudden contact.

“Can..uh..” he trailed, “Can I put my arm around you? I.. I think it’ll make the pictures look less awkward, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah!” you responded a bit too enthusiastically. Clearing your throat, you gave him the gentle smile that he could never hate, “Yeah. Go ahead, Chan.”

He did as he asked. Unlike the playful hug that you two had shared in your apartment lobby, this one felt more intimate, especially when you saw the screen reflecting the two of you.

You could feel his rings dig against his cotton sweater on your body, assuming now that it was yours, comfortable enough for you to feel secure— at home. Nevertheless, you always felt that Chan was your home.

Your eyes fixated on the screen as you moved forward to press the red button that would soon make you both take simultaneous pictures together.

We look good together, you thought to yourself, Wait what? Shut up.

But why did this feel different? You two had taken hundreds of photos together, varied with ridiculous, attractive, and unnecessary ones. But you swallowed that wondering lump in your throat, quickly dismissing it as you posed with Chan for each one, your vision rather blurry for a reason you couldn’t pinpoint.

And as the twelve clicks ended, Chan stood up first. You were quite upset about the absence of his embrace, but didn’t mind it when he smiled at you like he always did,

“Let’s see the pictures.” he held his hand out for you to take, which you graciously did, feeling the pit of your stomach drop as you, as per usual, questioned what your relationship with him was at this point.

The two pairs of feet, albeit the both of you were wearing matching shoes on accident, met their way towards the printing area. Looking at the screen which read 99% complete, Chan heard the sound of the photo paper hit the stopper that avoided the prints from falling on the ground.

He bent down and took it, showing it to you. Naturally, your arms went around his left bicep, hugging it to look closer. Chan sucked in his breath, knowing that if he was in a cartoon right now, his brown head of hair would be sticking up in all places as a silhouette of his heart pumped dramatically out of his chest.

It was ironic, as most of your friends would say; it was ironic how you two hugged often but got shy whenever your hands would simpy graze, it was ironic how you two were so affectionate yet were so resistant, and it was very ironic that your ‘hangouts’ weren’t dates at this point.

He watched as you pointed at his face from top to bottom, questioning,

“You’re not even facing the camera in most of these! Stop looking at me and look at the lens next time. Do you want to retake these?”

Your question wasn’t too hard, but you didn’t understand why Chan looked at you with such solemn eyes, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was frustrated. But the look was soon replaced with one that held adoration, but that only increased your confusion.

“I mean.. we don’t have to retake these, Chan. What do you want to do?”

“If you were my girlfriend, I’d probably never stop staring at you.”

He didn’t know why he said that. Not a bone in his body was willing to let that out but his mind decided to play a little game of “thinking out loud”. The impulsivity of the statement made the two of your freeze in front of the photo booth.

But there was something that the both of you knew, something that neither of you wanted to admit. You had been friends for too long, had been too close for too long, but what was different now?

Why, after more than ten years of being best friends, was now the best time for you two to be together?

But something resided within you, and in Chan as well. This was to atone for all the pain you two had experienced without one another. You and Chan always wondered why you’ve always loved, but never been in love truly. All this time, the person that was it from the start was right in front of your faces, but pent up denial never allowed it to happen.

Until now.

Somewhere, somehow, this was the universe’s way of telling you that today was that day. You woke up late, wore his sweater, and Chan had slipped up with his thoughts aloud. It made sense.

So, you took a small step forward.

It felt as if the gravity between your feet and floor was much heavier than before, especially watching Chan’s jaw clench out of nervousness, but you knew it was just you mustering up a ton of courage to finally ask,

“Who’s stopping you from asking?”

#stray kids #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan #bang chan fluff #christopher bang #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #bang chan x reader fluff #chan x reader fluff #chan x reader #chris bang fluff

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sciapod · 3 years

Text

Bathtub Photoshoot 💦

Pairing: Henry Cavill x First Person-POV (Female, or at least X wears a bra and has breasts)

Summary: Little private photosesh' with Henners and then some.

Warnings: Dry humping but let's just call it grinding. Edging. 18+ to be safe!! Contains smut. You might be able to find the tiniest bit of angst. And bit of fluff.

Word count: 2.5K

Not beta’ed! I take full responsibility for this fuckup.

Inspired/prompted by this post by @cavillfics

Masterlist

I obviously don't own Henry Cavill, nor do I know him IRL, so it goes without saying that this is a figment of my imagination.

(I took the liberty to edit the photo just a bit and don’t know who to credit for the original edit. Let me know if you know, so I can give credit where it's due.)

Happy reading 💦

---

“Babe, I've got an idea! Can you do something for me, please?”

When I heard you coming through the front door, I rushed to meet you there. You were finally home again and was hanging your jacket on the coat rack when I found you.

“Oh, well,” you reply, “I really want to just lean back, maybe take a shower or something. It’s been a long week, babe. And hello, by the way.”

You step over to me, reach around my waist and pull me against your firm body.

“Mhm, you smell lovely,” you whisper in my hair. I sigh, then wiggle myself free of your embrace.

“Henry, listen,” I look up at you with my best attempt at puppy eyes. You breathe deeply and turn your face, scratching mine with your stubble. It sends shivers through my body.

“Okay,” you hum as your hands roam my body, finding their way to my bare thighs then sneaking up beneath my robe, “tell me.”

I grab your hips and press my core against your thigh as I lean backwards, looking up at you, “I want to take some pictures … of you.”

Your face goes through a range of emotions; surprised, suspicious, smirking, friendly and finally incredibly charismatic: Front-page-style smile.

“That’s the one!” I say with excitement.

“Which one?” you tease, furrowing your brow and looking all suspicious again.

“You know perfectly well, you buffoon!” I say, as I slap your chest playfully.

My entire body lifts when you laugh. You kiss my forehead and twirl some of my hair between a few fingers. Your eyes shift, gazing at various areas of my face. I sigh, then reach for your hands, the one playing with my hair and the other, which I find gently caressing the lace of my panties.

I hold your hands between us and look up at my man.

“You do realize, of course, that you are basically a Greek god carved out of stone.”

“I have been told so, yes.”

“And you do realize that every artist needs a muse, a model, to create from.”

“I have a faint idea of that, yes,” you say, smirking down at me.

“And I happen to be short of a project, and subject, for my portfolio.”

“I see,” your smile broadens, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Henry!”

My declining patience must have been obvious somewhere in my face or perhaps my exclamation, because you burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you do so. I can’t help but melt a little.

“Tell me what you need me to do, darling,” you say, stroking my hands with your thumbs. I feel warmth spread through my chest. Your face softens and I feel the warmth spread further down.

“Fuck,” I breathe, casting my eyes to the floor. I’m suddenly filled with all kinds of insecurities, imposter syndrome and such, but there’s a reason why you’re my man. You sense it immediately and lift my hands to your lips, kissing them sincerely.

“You’ve got this, babe.”

I sigh, “I know, sweetheart. It's just… Urgh.”

You kiss my forehead.

“Tell me your idea.”

“I…” My voice breaks. You lift my chin up with a single finger, as if it were suddenly light as a feather, forcing me to look into your striking blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” I finally exclaim. “I didn’t have a concrete idea. I just knew that I wanted you to be in the photos.”

You smile, almost apologetically, “Okay, look. I really want to help. But I’m so damn tired. I’ve got an idea, though, of how we may be able to hit two birds with one stone.”

“Okaay?” I say, a slight tinge of hope seeping into my core again.

“I need a bath–”

“–I can’t take a nude picture of you!”

You laugh again, but shake your head, “No, silly. Let me finish.”

My cheeks flush scarlet.

“I need a bath, but instead of taking a shower, I’ll jump in the tub. Once in there, you can have me do whatever you want.”

I squint my eyes, then see a lightbulb flash on.

“YES!” I almost yell, running my hands up your torso and leaning in for a kiss.

“Yes,” I repeat, then press my lips against your sculpted ones. It is as if your lips curl to a smile amidst the kiss.

“Yes,” I say one last time, meeting your eyes, “If you get the water running, I’ll collect my gear.”

Your hands go wandering about on my hips again, dragging my robe up and making my hairs stand on end. You look down at me with a confident smile, saying, “great minds think alike.”

I fight off the urge to kiss you again and instead draw away from you. You catch the waistband of my robe and it slides off as I step away, revealing the new set of lingerie I’m wearing underneath. I stand, looking at you with what I imagine is the expression of a suspicious feline. You, on the other hand, make a low whistle and shake your head in slow motion, clearly surprised and pleased to see what I was hiding beneath. Then you nod toward the living room, signalling I get on with finding my camera.

It takes me a few minutes to find the right lens. When I enter the bathroom, you’re in the process of unbuckling your belt. The tap is running and there’s already a bit of water in the tub.

“Wait,” I say, stopping you just as you’re about to pull your jeans down, “I think I want you in the water dressed.”

You stare for a moment, shrug, say “sure,” then proceed to tug your jeans over your perky bum again.

“Right, erm,” I think for a moment, “No, you know what? Lose the pants, but keep the t-shirt on.”

“Lose the pants,” you repeat and let your jeans fall to the floor. As you stand back up, I realize something.

“We might have a problem,” I say, eyeing the hefty bulge in your boxers.

You follow my gaze, noticing the same problem, then nod in agreement.

“But then again,” you say, “what did you expect, looking like that?” you hint at my open robe and lingerie.

We both shrug, then burst laughing.

“I guess we’ll just have to make it work!” I say, “Now, in the tub with you, buddy.”

You feel the temperature of the water and deciding that it’s decent, turn off the tap, step in and lie down. There’s not a lot of water in there, but I’m assuming it will do. You look up at me with anticipation, “Now what?”

I squint at you, finding the bulge slightly distracting, basically towering above the waterline like another Burj Khalifa. Obviously, you notice my lack of response.

“Hey, babe!” you say, snapping me out of it. I feel my nether region clench.

“Okay, okay!” I shake my head to wake up. You shake yours too, smirking at me.

“We need to do something about that,” I say.

“I can try to hide it?” you suggest.

“How?” I squint. It’s a mastodon of a package you has stored down there, I think to myself.

“Anyway, I need to find a position to photograph you from.”

I begin taking random photos of you from various angles and perspectives, simultaneously adjusting the settings on the camera as I do so. Meanwhile, you roll around to one side, then the other, then back again. The squeaking sounds of your body rubbing against the sides of the tub while you change poses makes the whole situation rather comedic, and I'm convinced you're doing it even worse on purpose. Determined to be somewhat professional, I try to ignore your distractions.

“It’s a good thing we have such good lighting in here,” I say, gazing around the small room, pretending to be focused and ignorant of your attempts at sabotage.

“How do you want me, babe? I feel like… I don’t even know? A fish out of water,” you say, doubting your own wording, “or something like that.”

I sigh, “I know, I get it. I need to think. We’ve also still got that… situation… going on.” I gesture at the, no less apparent, tent between your legs.

“Okay,” you say calmly, “I’ll just lie back and relax, while you think of something.”

“Good.”

As you settle into a comfortable position, I mentally run through the various “golden rules” of photography that I can remember.

Then it’s as if I notice the obvious. The absolute god-like adonis carved in marble in front of me: My initial inspiration. Your white t-shirt, soaked from all the turning and splashing around you did, is sticking to your chest and abs, enhancing the lines of your muscular torso, yet still in a perfectly suggestive fashion; somewhat similar to the drapery you see on these same sculptures. In a fit of impulse, I crawl up to stand on the edges of the tub.

You open your eyes –awoken by my scramblings– fear in your eyes as you reach for me, “be careful, babe!”

“No no, darling! Stay put!” I say, “I’m perfectly safe. It’s dry. My feet are dry. I’m stable, but thank you.” I smile, reassuringly. Suspicious yet accepting, you lower your arms and lie back down. I notice your eyes trail down my exposed body. Lust now clear as daylight in your gaze.

“I think I’ve got the photo soon, babe, then we’re done,” I explain. “Just close your eyes for me.”

You shake your head and smile, then do as I said.

Your head rests on the back of the tub, but your fingers begin fidgeting … around your nether region.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask between photos.

“No…” you smirk, eyes still closed, but you shift and rest your hands awkwardly on your stomach instead.

“We can’t have that,” I say, “you’re covering the main part of the photo,” I tease.

You open your eyes, still smirking but not saying a word.

“And you’re revealing, exposing, what we need to hide,” I try to hold back my laugh.

“Okay,” I continue, “what about… what if you hold your t-shirt at the hem and stretch it down to cover your crotch. Place your other hand casually beside it. Yeah, like that! Exactly, babe. Beautiful.”

I take a couple of photos and look at them on the tiny screen.

“Right, hold that pose, but just… kinda relax, if you can. I’ll take a few shots more and then you’re done!”

You close your eyes again and begin taking deep breaths, lessening the tension that must have been building in your shoulders over the last few days. As peace falls upon your face and body, I take the last photos. After quickly reviewing them on the tiny screen, I decide that I’m done. I turn off my camera and place it on the shelf above the tub before crawling down to sit on the edge of the tub, my feet in the water between your legs.

“Okay, it’s a wrap!”

Your eyes flash open and you let go of your t-shirt. The fabric bounces back, revealing your hairy tummy, teasing me. You look up at me with mischief, then give your member a squeeze.

“Get down here,” you say, almost ferocious in your voice.

I feel myself get all giddy with sudden anticipation as you rise like Poseidon from the water. Before I can do anything other than yelp, you pull me down onto you and with a splash and a thud I land against your rock-hard body. I'm instantly soaked.

“Finally,” you mutter, drenching my face and neck with hungry kisses. Your hands tease the collar of my robe before sliding it over my shoulders. Your eyes explore the curves of my upper body, then you adjust me so that I sit straddled upon you. You don’t speak a word, but your eyes and body say everything I need to know.

I feel your girth throbbing against me. You slide my robe all the way off and without taking your eyes off me, you cast it aside. Then your hands slide up my body. You cup my breasts tenderly, admiring the lace and how the new style of bra suits my breasts. You lick your lips as your thumbs begin stroking my hardening nipples. I sigh and begin grinding against the tip of your member.

You sit up and proceed to kiss and bite the flesh of my breasts. Gently holding the lace aside with your fingers, you capture my nipples between your teeth, ever so gently, before circling your tongue around them with exquisite attention. While squeezing my breasts together, you kiss them one after the other, back and forth, before venturing up to my collarbone and neck. All I can do is whimper and moan.

Then you grasp my hair, pulling my head back. Between kisses and bites on my exposed neck, you breathe damp, sultry words onto my skin. Expressions of how I’ve been a tease, how patient you’ve been and how much you want me now. I want to answer, but I can’t do anything but mutter incoherencies; your throbbing cock eagerly pressing against my core and thus stealing all of my vocabulary.

My breath quickens as I grind harder, cursing the fabrics that keep our cores from meeting, merging. Then you push me towards you, allowing our lips to meet in hungry kisses. My bra loosens. You must have managed to open and take it off me with your other hand, before also casting it aside. You grab at my liberated breasts, then sit up and pull your drenched t-shirt over your head. It lands on the bathroom floor with a splash. My hands instinctively seek the wet fur of your stomach and chest, momentarily squeezing your pecs, then wander south again.

Your eyes read pure hunger and you buck your hips. As I fall back down from the jump, my core meets the powerful strength of your pelvis, bucking yet again. I gasp, overcome by a mixture of arousal and humor. You buck again, a laugh escapes me and somehow, after a few times of this, you’ve managed to free your erection from your boxers. I didn’t notice, but at some point you must have turned on the tap again, because I see you turn it back off. I guess this increased level of water also explains the more slow-motion-like sensation I experience as I land back down on your pelvis; a somewhat softer landing than before. In my own defence, I was entranced and my mind was not functioning at 100%, hence the questionable description. Anyway, both our hips are now submerged under water and I simply shake my head at your mischievous ways. You smirk and pull me down to a deep kiss, slapping my ass through the water, making more water splash all over the place. Everything in the room is certainly wet by now.

I grind against your exposed and infinitely hard cock as your fingers slider under the lace. Your hands grab my cheeks with determination, enhancing the force and enabling you to better thrust against my grinding motion. The friction is causing short-circuits in my brain, making me see colours that aren’t there. My first climax is staggeringly near, but just before I get to release, you buck your hips again, making me scoot off your cock. A devious grin is smeared across your chiseled face.

“You had me waiting, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn to tease.”

---

Thanks for reading my shitpost! Please leave a comment of your thoughts, however nonsensical they may be 💜🙏

Tags in the reblog 🖤Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

#henry cavill #henry daddy #henry cavill is daddy #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill smut #henry #henry cavill x first person pov #henry cavill x poc reader #henry cavill x any colour reader #real person fic #real person fiction #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill bathtub scene #sciapod writes smut

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thefirstknife · 3 years

Text

The Fall of a Pyramid Ship

Besties, I have a thought. Many of them actually.

I recently went on a long tangent about how there is a possibility that some time during Season of the Lost a Pyramid will appear in the Dreaming City and we will be bringing it down. That Pyramid will then end up in Savathun's throne world which is where we will be going into it for the Witch Queen Raid. Post with the details here.

The rest under the cut because it's long:

The original post was mostly spurred someone asking about Sjur's dream from the lore on Sleepless. The relevant parts:

"I was dreaming," Sjur says, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. "I saw you on a great black triangle. You split it in two with your bare hands."

"Mm."

"And I was dead, I think." She cracks her neck with a deliciously loud pop. "Or… trapped? Like in a maze. But pretty close to figuring my way out."

"Mhm."

Sjur stands up to stretch. She does not mind that Mara is not listening. Let her read. "And there was another woman with you."

"On the triangle," Mara murmurs.

"Mm. Yeah. She was helping. Then your brother showed up, and…" She shakes out her arms, frowning thoughtfully. The dream is already fading. "He said, 'Tropaea.' Or maybe it was, uh, 'Tropical.' Anyway."

I bolded the most relevant sentences. The original post really wasn't about the whole Pyramid business, but I had to add my thoughts now that we know more than we did back when this lore was released. Not only the stuff I mentioned in the post, but also now we know that Savathun is (allegedly) trying to help us defeat the Black Fleet and the same was said about the reason why Mara wants her Techeuns back.

And I was just re-reading lore, as I do, and I remembered something. The lore book Stolen Intelligence details some of the records made by Ikora's Hidden and other Vanguard agents. Specifically, the page Fragment is what caught my attention. In it, an agent FEN-092 (most likely the one, the only, the man, the legend: Fenchurch Everis) reports a strange incident on the Moon:

2. Around 1900 hours yesterday afternoon, I began to experience a crushing headache and excused myself from patrol to recuperate. Though I originally intended to lay down for a nap, I fell asleep instead, and experienced multiple vivid dreams over the next 11.5 hours. In all of these dreams, I was trying to catch up with agent ERI-223 in a crowd. She was always out of reach, whether by 200 m or 20 m. I had the sense that I needed to speak to her.

3. When I woke, I found that my headache had not improved. I prepared my armor and exited my bivouac to find a single stationary Thrall crouched nearby. It stood as I approached, but made no motion to attack me. I fired one shot, killing it immediately. Upon stepping forward to examine its corpse, I saw a solid black fragment of an unknown material embedded in its chest cavity. The fragment resembled a flake or a shard of some larger object, not dissimilar to a high-gain photovoltaic panel.

ERI-223 is Eris Morn. The fragment was peculiar at the time this was released (Forsaken), but now post-Shadowkeep and post-Beyond Light, we can definitely identify this artifact as a piece of the Pyramid. Fenchurch's Ghost also reports:

5. I requested that my Ghost attempt to contain and transmat the fragment for quarantine on my jumpship. He was unable to establish a Light link with the object, describing the fragment as "slippery" and "tiring" to try to catch hold of.

To me, it is most likely that this is literally a shard of the Pyramid, like those little pieces you can see on Europa when a Pyramid scale ripples. But more important is what follows:

8. At this point, I broke protocol and did not request additional backup. Instead, I picked up the fragment by hand and immediately experienced a vivid hallucination: I stood over VIP #0704's shoulder as she dressed a seven-inch gash on agent ERI-223's thigh. Both #0704 and ERI-223 were dressed for combat. Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model. ERI-223 looked directly toward me and said, "Патетическая."

Obviously none of this made any sort of reasonable sense at the time. But now?

"Hundreds of fragments of the unknown material hung in the air around us, apparent shrapnel from the wreckage of a nearby ship of unrecognizable make and model" is a pretty clear hint at what we now know is a Pyramid ship. Specifically, a wreckage of one.

As we've established, ERI-223 is Eris Morn. Who is VIP #0704? As of now, it is undecided. I've done a bit of a search and most of the guesses are 2 years old and they usually settled on it being Eriana-3 OR Mara Sov. I think it's pretty obvious that it's Mara, if we pair it with the Sleepless lore tab.

But there's another link. The lore book The Dreaming City has a page called Letters. This lore book in general is kinda all over the place and details some lore that doesn't really have a place elsewhere, but it generally revolves around the Awoken and characters adjacent to them. There is a lot about Mara, including information about how Eleusinia and the Oracle Engine were created, as well as her relationship with Riven.

Anyway, in Letters, we see several letters written by Eris to various people, but never delivered. We kinda have to assume a lot here because nothing is explicitly named, but we can for sure say that these letters were written by Eris. To whom? It's up to debate. Some of these seem to be for Mara, one is most certainly for Asher and one is most likely for Ikora. The one I want to focus on is one I can't decide where to place but it features a word we've seen before:

Undelivered, burnt.

Патетическая. The swelling of strong sentiment in your chest even as you mourn the world that is and was and will be. I did not go to Mars. I will not go to the Dreaming City. There is only the plan.

"Патетическая" is Russian and it means "pathetic." I'm thoroughly lost on why this is repeated twice as coming from Eris in two different instances. Truth to Power claims that Eris was born during the Golden Age in Russia, but Stolen Intelligence disproves this. Hm.

Either way, there are several things that seem to fit together in all of this:

1. Destruction of the Pyramid ship (Sleepless, Fragment) 2. Eris and Mara involved with some sort of an ongoing plan (Sleepless, Fragment, Letters) 3. A battle that involves a Pyramid, Eris (who ends up wounded), Mara and Crow (Sleepless, Fragment) 4. Eris saying the same peculiar word seemingly completely out of context (Fragment, Letters)

I want to point out something about the Letters entry. It's not chronological. As in, the entries in that lore page aren't all from the past or current plot from when the lore book was released. Observe the final part of Letters (which released in Forsaken):

Delivered.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

Lore book Letters from Eris, from Shadowkeep, page Regarding the Pyramid:

[DELIVERED, RECONSTRUCTED.]

It's coming, my Queen.

It's coming for US.

We have been manipulated. We are right where it wants us. The Darkness orchestrated its plan magnificently; the Nightmares were so impeccably calculated to draw us in, make us vulnerable, and leave us exposed.

The Darkness plans to use us. We are to do its bidding. I don't know how to stop it.

I detect no fear on the part of our nemesis. We aren't even a concern. We pose no threat.

The Darkness needs a reason to fear our Light, and I intend to provide it.

I have been inside. I have nothing but beautiful and violent words for my report. I will meet you at your throne.

This makes the entire Letters lore page entirely up for debate.

I believe these entries are connected and that both Fenchurch's hallucination after touching a piece of the Pyramid and Sjur's dream are telling us about the same future event that involves Eris, Mara and a destruction of a Pyramid ship. And I absolutely believe that we will see this at the end of the season, considering there's a downed Pyramid ship in Savathun's throne world. Other connecting details are very confusing for now and may have something to do with Savathun's involvement. After all, she also claims to be interested in fighting back the Black Fleet and ends up in possession of the Pyramid.

#destiny 2 #eris #mara #savathun #pyramid #witch queen #lore vibing #long post #besties help. lol.

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flooffybits · 3 years

Text

By Your Side

Idol: Handong (Dreamcatcher)

Life as an idol always brought pressure to their lives. It was just a matter of communication for them to keep going.

A/n: Dongie i love you and i wish you nothing but good things

☕buy me a coffee☕

Everyone was understandably exhausted when you looked around the room. Right after promotions, your schedule had been packed with interviews and various appearances, that it was a little surprising. Yet to see the gradual rise in Dreamcatcher’s fame was more than worth the exhaustion.

Your days had been filled with practices, both for the concert and for Kcon. Your energy was slowly depleting with how many hours you would spend at the company, just to get everything right, down to the last note and pose.

The girls were a little worried whenever you came home, drenched in sweat and exhausted that you barely had the energy to move, but thankfully you made sure not to neglect your health and joined them to eat whenever you could.

“I think you should take a break.” A soft voice tells you, and you don’t need to look when Handong’s reflection stares at you from the mirror of the practice room. “I’m okay, I’ll be done in a bit.” You answered while stretching your legs, but your girlfriend pursed her lips at your answer as she stepped closer, placing her hand on your back and pulling your attention back on her.

“Y/n, I know that we have to practice, but you don’t have to do this every day. At this rate, you’re going to get yourself hurt.” She said worriedly while gently squeezing your shoulder and you pause what you were doing to look at her, smiling as you reach for her hand and press a kiss to her fingertips. “I’ll be okay. It’s just a bit of practice. Plus, Sooyeon unnie said that there’s always room for improvement.” You explained, yet that didn’t seem to satisfy the slightly older woman as she crouched down.

With a small tug on your hand, she asks for you to be facing her, one you instantly comply with, before she’s settling herself between your legs and wrapping her arms around your waist. The action surprised you, drawing a laugh from your lips as your girlfriend made herself comfortable, smiling when she felt the vibrations of your laugh as she rested her head against your chest.

“Dongie, I need to practice.” You try, yet you make no moves on pushing her away. “You need to rest.” She argues, looking up at you with a pout. “You can practice while I’m gone to do my birthday live.” She negotiates and with the way she was looking, it was impossible for you to say no.

So in the end, you were both cuddling in one corner of the room as your members began to arrive, all of them looking a bit relieved to see that you weren’t pushing yourself past more than what you could handle. They each shot your girlfriend a smile before proceeding to start with their own stretching whilst Handong did her best to keep you comfortable.

When you’re all done and ready to practice together, Handong comes bouncing into the room with Bora at her tail, grinning as she holds the decent sized cotton candy. “Look what I have!” The dancer grinned while waving the sweet up in the air and Gahyeon laughed at the pout on her roommate’s face. “I’m never making cotton candy again.” She sighed before looking around the room for you.

Her search doesn’t last too long because Minji was already gesturing to your hunched over form with Yubin fanning your face and Siyeon quietly talking to you. The worry on their faces was clear enough for your girlfriend as she faced the leader.

“She’s okay, just a little tired.” Minji sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. “Even Sooyeon unnie told her to take a break.” Yoohyeon muttered while tying her hair up. “I think we should really get some food into her system before we head home.” She adds.

“Real food though, not convenience store food or instant noodles.” Gahyeon added with a huff. Since you’ve all been out so late, no one’s had the time or energy to cook. And as much as Bora tries, most of you are already passed out by the time she’s done cooking, having settled for whatever was easiest to cook.

“Let’s go home for tonight.”

On the day of the concert, you’re more than ready to perform. Since you didn’t really have to dance for the first night, you were a little relieved that you could just sit down and catch your breath.

Of course, that didn’t really stop your girlfriend from doting you. Since she’s gotten so used to seeing you worn out at home, she couldn’t help but check on you when she could. And maybe it was the exhaustion, but you really didn’t mean to snap at her or seem ungrateful.

“I’m fine, Handong, seriously.” You groaned when you fixed your in-ears. “I just think you should-”

“I said I’m fine.” You grunted, scowling as you grabbed your things and your girlfriend shuts her mouth, watching you as you left the dressing room and Gahyeon looked worriedly to her friend before lightly patting her arm. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it, unnie.” She tried to assure, and as much as Handong wanted to let it go, she’ll admit that it hurt.

She just wanted to help you.

As the concert went on, neither of you made it apparent that you’ve had an argument off stage. And even though the girls could sense the tension between you, they made sure to keep it subtle as they took charge of the concert, keeping the atmosphere light where they initiated the conversation with both of you just so it wouldn’t seem too forced.

Whenever you all had to sit on the couch, you were a little relieved that Yubin was the one closest to you and that it wouldn’t be off for people to see you not interacting with her.

Though at that point, you were already feeling guilty for being angry with her in the first place. You understood why she was so worried and she was only trying to take care of you. Had it been anyone else, they would have done the same thing she did now that you looked at it.

And it was her birthday, today.

God, just what kind of girlfriend were you?

Glancing at the Chinese woman, you smile when you see her messing around with the maknae, and when you look back, Yubin was already smiling at you, almost a silent message that you quickly understand from your roommate.

When you have to go backstage to change your clothes, you quietly slip past everyone and head to your corner before your stylist goes to retouch your makeup. And with how busy everyone else is, neither you nor your girlfriend have the chance to talk. Though, she does steal glances at you through the mirror to see how you were coping.

A yawn passes your lips, and right as you attempt to rub your eyes, your stylist stops you with a hand to your wrist before lowering it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Y/n.” She warns and you pout before nodding your head. “The concert is almost over, so just hang in there.” She says encouragingly while Yoohyeon hands you a cup of water.

While waiting for everyone to finish, you decide to head for the stage first, thinking it’d be best to give everyone more space to move around.

You flash your members a small grin as you head for the door, and pass behind your girlfriend. She doesn’t see you when you’re near, but she feels the small squeeze to her hand as you pass before she’s turning around, only to catch a glimpse of your back as you exit the room.

When she looks back, Siyeon is already grinning at her. “You guys will be fine.”

And while Handong knows that, she couldn’t help but sulk when you still wouldn’t meet her eyes or come near her throughout the concert. It was as though you were deliberately trying to avoid her, and it confused her to no end just what exactly was going through your head.

Though she really should have known by now. After four years of friendship, and two years dating, she should have known that you wouldn’t just let the argument pass without letting her know just how sorry you were.

So by the time she started to hear everyone’s personal messages for her, she had held her breath as she waited for your voice because even when she was able to keep her tears at bay with the other’s messages, she’s not sure if she would be able to keep her cool by the time you spoke.

You were the only one who could bring it out of her.

And everyone knew that, which was why they decided to have you speak last.

“Dongie!” You smile at the camera, waving as you try to keep your voice low. “First of all, happiest birthday to the love of my life.” The girls snicker behind the camera and Handong had to stop herself from smiling as she heard them. “We missed a lot of time together the past year, but we have many more to make up for it.” You say with a tiny smile. “When you left for the survival show, I have to admit that I was a bit scared because I thought that the time away might have changed our relationship, but I was so happy when you finally came home to us.”

You look as your manager gestures for you to wrap up and you flash your best smile. “I’ll keep taking care of you, just stay with me forever, okay? I love you, and happy birthday.”

Hearing the sincerity in your tone and finally seeing you come to join her made your girlfriend’s eyes glossy with unshed tears, and you smile at her as you gather together on stage, adjusting your shirt.

But right as the cameras started to roll again, you were all surprised to hear another message coming through your in-ears, and you had to pause whilst Handong looked even more shocked than everyone as her mother’s voice greeted your ears.

Listening to her message seemed to be the final push for Handong to finally burst into tears and your members did the same as you listened. As hard as she tried to cover her face, Handong listened to her mother’s message while trying to control her crying, biting her cheek just to hold back a sob and you hurry to grab a tissue to wipe her tears away.

When you meet each other’s eyes, you had offered her a soft smile while lightly wiping away her tears despite the continuous downpour. Seeing as you tried to fight back tears of your own only pushed her to cry harder before you moved to take her into your arms and let her cling to you as you continued to listen to the rest of her parents’ message.

“Mind if I come in?”

Gahyeon looked up when you lightly knocked on their door and a smile bloomed across her face before n she nodded her head. “Of course, unnie! I was just about to use the bathroom.” The maknae lied, sending her roommate a little smile before she hopped out of the room, shooting you a wide smile as she did, making you chuckle at her antics.

“She’s cheeky.” Handong comments as she brushes her hair and you offer to take over when you extend your hand out. Silently, she gives you the brush before you sit behind her. “Well, she cares for both of us. It makes sense.” You mutter when you begin brushing through the long strands of gold, carefully taking out the little bits of glitter left on her head the best you could.

“It’s not usual for us to be fighting, so she’s worried.”

You hum at her words and the silence stretches. While you try to think of what to say, Handong is still thinking about the events of the evening and she can’t help the way her eyes tear up again because right after the concert, she had received a message from both her parents, wishing her a happy birthday once more.

You don’t realize that she’s crying until the quiet sniffles eventually grow audible enough for you to hear. Setting the brush down, you carefully turn your girlfriend around until you’re facing each other and you can see her slightly reddened eyes.

You’re careful when you let your thumbs gently run under her eyes before pressing a kiss on her eyelids. Pulling her to your lap, you press another kiss to her temple this time before letting out a soft breath. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I was tired, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” You apologize and even when she tries to disagree, you’re already shushing her.

“It was wrong. Even if you try to tell me otherwise, I shouldn’t have gotten upset when all you were trying to do was make sure that I was fine.” You say with a frown that it makes your girlfriend cringe before bursting into laughter. “Don’t do that, it’s not cute!” She teases and you crinkle your nose before joining her in laughing.

“I’m trying to apologize! Come on!”

You both burst into fits of giggles and Handong feels much better now that you were able to get whatever weight you had off your chest.

Her hand lands on your cheek when you both calm down. Her heart felt full and there was honestly nothing else she thought could make this an even better birthday than it already was. She was able to spend the day with her second family, InSomnias, and then received the surprise message from her parents.

And most of all, she was happy to just have you by her side, even after she had left for China.

“I love you.” She whispers and she sees as your expression softens before you place a kiss against the palm of her hand. “I love you, too.” You tell her right before she’s tugging you closer and you meet her halfway, pressing a tender kiss against her lips.

And honestly, what was a better way to end a perfect night?

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher handong #handong dreamcatcher #handong #handong scenarios #handong imagines #dreamcatcher x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door.

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?”

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #spoilers

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palmett-hoes · 3 years

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YES. Oh my God you explained perfectly the logic behind Neil getting tattoos. I get that people think tattoos fix Andrew's "aesthetic" more cause he wears all black and all but tattoos nowadays are popular and not really a thing that only alternative people get. Anyway -> if Neil got tattoos, do u have an hcs for what he might?

yea the more i think about it the more i really like the idea of neil getting tattoos. and who knows, maybe if his boyfriend starts to get covered andrew will take an interest too. i mean you're right, it does fit his aes. maybe he gets some matching tattoos with the love of his life

WHAT neil would get tho? oh there’s so many factors to consider

i see him having a similar ideology about it as i do, that his tattoos are to memorialize significant people and events in his life. most importantly though, they’re just,, to make him feel good about himself, so they’re all of happy memories, even if some might be bittersweet

it’s also not about full-coverage. he’s fine if his scars are still visible under the tattoo and probably isn’t going to try to religiously cover every single one. it’s about having something good on his body that he chose to put there to combat but not necessarily blot out the bad things done to him against his will

he tends to collect smaller individual pieces rather than large scale work and he’s not committed to a specific style, so his collection is a bit random and eclectic. but in terms of the style generally drawn to very kinesthetic art with a lot of movement and fluid lines, but also angular and hard-edged. i don’t think he’s color-averse and definitely not a strict black-and-gray guy, but at the same time i can’t see him doing like super super bright color work. he goes for darker, more saturated colors, like jewel and natural tones. also of course i see him as brown skinned so you need to approach color work differently anyway

in terms of what he actually GETS, i don’t really have a lot of opinions on placement or like,, what tattoos should cover which scar, but have some random ideas i think he might get

he has a large piece (like maybe a sleeve or thigh) that’s dedicated to his time on the run, but the good parts. it’s a mix of a lot of images and very chaotic, drawing from like,, the french cafe where his most first bought him a cup of coffee and cottage safehouses in the alps in summer and where they had room to stretch their legs and run and chase each other and hustling three card monty in dubai with his mom and diners in the pacific northwest that sold the best fruit pies

he of course gets a lot of tattoos for the foxes, definitely at least one straight-up fox. tiny pawprints are his go-to filler pattern

he has everyone’s signatures somewhere on him, maybe with a tattoo of the Championship trophy being hoisted up by a group of hands. he also has small individual pieces that memorialize each of them individually

definitely got several exy sticks and various other pieces of gear scattered in various places. dark stadium chairs leading down to a brightly lit exy court

andrew is probably his biggest inspiration. he has the photograph of them together in the airport turned into a silhouette like a victorian cameo. a ring of keys; this one might go on the back of his neck. a tire track skid mark. a skeleton sitting on a roof against a sunrise. andrew’s hand sparking a lighter. the only reason he doesn’t have a full portrait is bc andrew says he’ll leave him if he does it

a rabbit skull overgrown by moss and vines and flowers.

he gets a rook and knight chess pieces tat because kevin says that’s what he and andrew would be

he gets some small cheeky ones too. things like a line of script that says “you should see the other guy” with a gun running under a nasty scar or a skeletal arm broken in half

once he starts to really establish who he is and flesh himself out as a person he gets some that don’t necessarily have a lot of meaning but that he just likes the look of because he has the luxury of having opinions on art now

i don’t necessarily know if i want him to cover his facial scars, but i think that’s mostly because i don’t like facial tattoos very much, especially ones located where neil’s scars are. that’s just a personal preference though. however, i think the idea of a minimalist, abstract take of just like,, adding color to the scars might be nice. something like well-saturated brushstroke work

(addendum: an au or something where all neil’s scars are just covered in abstract brushwork would be so fucking beautiful. like this but full-body holy shit)

(i just don’t think it really fits him in canon to have a full-body tattoo scheme. also those would require so much long-term maintenance you’d have to get them redone like every 5 to 10 years)

he also doesn’t get them all at once, this is something he builds up over years. he also doesn’t want to rush it because he wants to stay open to memorialize things that will come in the future, because he has a future to wait for now

---

also i assume you probably want some reference photos too bc this can be a little hard to understand just as words, so here's some of my reference images under the cut

they’re more of a stylistic reference than a content reference. also - as in all things - this will of course also tell you a lot about my own personal taste in tattooing even though i try not to make it based ENTIRELY on what i like and try to factor in what i think neil would like

these were the tattoos that most inspired me about the tattoo idea for neil’s happiest memories with his mother. for some reason my gut really drew me towards architectural tattoos for it. i like the way the perspective on the left image is curved and confusing and it takes you a second to make sense of what you’re looking at. it reminds me a lot of an MC Escher drawing and that’s sort of the exact seeling of chaos and confusion that i think the tattoo needs. but then i was also really drawn to the soft colors of the right image (although they’d have to be adjusted somewhat for neil’s darker skin), because they’re so comforting, and i think that’s the sort of balance i’m looking for out of a tattoo for mary. so like,, compositionally like the left image but colored more like the right

literally every person who’s ever considered aftg and tattoos together HAS to offer up a fox tattoo it’s law. anyway these are mine. or well, the types i can see neil with. also, not aside from the foxes, these tattoos are really the best examples i can find of the angular, kinesthetic art style that i feel very strongly matches neil

inspo behind the tattoo of andrew’s hand with the lighter. also just a good simple style for smaller tattoos or filler tattoos

victorian cameos. inspiration behind both the silhouette tattoos of andrew and neil in the airport and the skeleton & the sunrise. both would be more than just the bust and the poses would be more fluid and they don’t need the brooch design outline. it’s really more of a starter reference or a jumping off point

neo-traditional tattoos. phenomenal style. strong lines and highly saturated color, super important both for a long-lasting tattoo and for tattooing on darker skin. they also just tend to have a certain composition i really like

this is the style i see the championship trophy tattoo, the chess pieces tattoo, the rabbit skull tattoo, and the ring of keys tattoo all in

---

okay i’m done now

thoughts?

#txt #pic #neil josten #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous #tattoo #tattoos #foxes w tats

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fandomsonrequests · 4 years

Text

gummy bears and jellybeans

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi jongho; ATEEZ

reader: gender neutral

word count: 2.4k+

summary: Your friendship with the youngest was different though. It was more… intimate. You two told secrets no one else in the group knew and shared moments that were meant for just the both of you. It was nice, and honestly, you were scared.

a/n: Ahhhh another songfic! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. i’m sorry if its not so good ;^; its unedited so I apologize for any spelling errors

Based off on the songs: Waiting for You - The Aces; Teenage Blue - Dreamgirl; Prom - SZA

You scroll through the feed of your phone as you look over the various photos of your friends at the special night- specifically senior prom night.

You chuckle at your friends’ posts, seeing them pose in silly ways and “rip up the dancefloor” with their wild dancing. You were currently curled up on the lounge chair by the small pool in your backyard, the bonfire pit lit and keeping you warm in the chilly night. You tucked your legs into yourself and settle your chin onto your knees, sighing as you watch the surface of the pool water ripple in the night breeze.

There were two reasons you weren’t at prom: one- you were never really the type of person to join these kinds of social settings. You weren’t so fond of crowds. The second reason- no one asked you. It kind of bummed you out that no one really thought of you as worth their time. So to save you from any embarrassment, you decided not to go.

Besides, you didn’t go prom shopping so you had nothing to wear. You pick at the fluffy lint of the bear onesie your friend gave you. A small smile makes its way to your lips as you remember the person who gifted it to you.

Jongho and you have been friends since fourth school, ever since you moved into his town. Being friends with him meant that you were roped into his shenanigans along with his other friends. They were an energetic bunch and sometimes they drained all adrenaline from you but you’d always end up happy. Tired but happy.

Your friendship with the youngest was different though. It was more… intimate. You two told secrets no one else in the group knew and shared moments that were meant for just the both of you. It was nice, and honestly, you were scared.

You may or may not have caught feelings for the brunet. (You asked him why he dyed his hair back to brown from a bright red but he just replied with a nonchalant “because I can”). And you were afraid that it could mess up so many things between you. You didn’t want to lose what you had with him and if it meant having to be content with just his friendship- you’d take it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your mother called out to you. “_____,” She sang. “There’s a special guest for you~”

“Who?” You ask and sit up, turning to see no one other than your best friend. “Jongho?? What are you doing here? I thought you were at prom?”

The young man smiled one of his rare but soft smiles- one that he reserves just for you- and looked away bashfully. He looked absolutely breathtaking in his dark crisp suit, a white turtleneck under his jacket. The whole look was topped off with some dress shoes and the special pendant you got for him last Christmas. It was a metal caricature of iced coffee since the man would drink that day in and day out.

“Ahh, I was. I just wanted to check up on you, jellybean.” He replies after thanking your mother who slipped away to give you two some privacy.

He looked you over and smirked, hands in his pockets. “You actually wear that?”

You looked down at yourself and pouted, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks. “Yes? You gave it to me of course I’m gonna wear it. You’re wearing the pendant I gave you, gummy bear.”

“Touche.”

You scoot over on the lounge chair to give him some space, both your legs were extended over the side of the plastic chair. A comfortable silence washes over the two of you and you lean your head against his shoulder. Jongho automatically wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him, his head leaning on yours.

You two sit there like that for a while. Only the sounds of the gentle breeze tickling your nose or the cicadas calling to each other were heard. That was until you spoke up. “...am I not worth spending time with, Jongho?”

He pulls away at the sudden question- looking at you as if you committed the most heinous crime on earth. “Where is this coming from? Of course not, _____. Being with you is worth every millisecond.”

You pick at your fingers and look down at your hands, saying nothing. Jongho’s brows furrow together in concern. You usually didn’t bother too much with how others perceive you but something must be bothering you this much for you to think this way. His warmer and much larger hands take yours, thumbs running over your skin.

“Does this have anything to do with prom?” He whispers over to you. He sighs when you shake your head.

It hurt to see you so down in the dumps. The dynamic between the two of you was that he was the more chill one while you were the more enthusiastic one. So seeing you so lethargic tore at his heartstrings. He wanted you to be happy, he wanted to keep you smiling. Whenever you do he sees your eyes light up and see the world with wonder and excitement. It always lightened his mood whenever he sees you like that- its almost as if the world’s problems don’t exist whenever he’s with you.

He got up abruptly and pulled out his phone. You look up at him, confused at his sudden actions. “What are you doing?” You ask him and receive no response.

Jongho scrolls through his phone and clicks something. A few seconds later, a soft melody plays through the night air. He sets down the phone one a nearby table and holds out his hand to you. “Come on, get up.”

You look at him, still confused, but get up nonetheless. He laces your fingers with his and pulls you flush to his body. A furious blush covers your cheeks at the proximity between you two. Sure, you two had moments where you were up in each other’s faces but this time it was different. It felt more personal, more intimate.

His free arm snaked around your waist, successfully securing you to him. He started swaying you from side to side along with the melody, looking down at you with the softest of gazes. You were practically speechless at what was happening, your mind still trying to wrap around what was happening.

“Dude, what are you doing?” You chuckle nervously but let him guide you.

“I’m dancing with you, dummy.” He teases you. “Now hush. Just enjoy this moment.”

You couldn’t help but huff in amusement at that, shaking your head at his antics. Eventually, your frown melts into the tiniest of grins as you let the moment engulf you two. Despite the soft and tender moment happening on the outside, your insides felt different. Your heart was beating rapidly against your ribcage and your stomach was doing somersaults. This was it- this was the moment that solidified your thoughts on your best friend.

This was the moment you realized that you were so head over heels in love with Choi Jongho.

You tried not to think much of his actions- after all maybe to him it was just some platonic dancing and nothing more. Worry started to eat away at you again, causing you to hang your head and watch your feet. Jongho on the other hand wasn’t having it. He knew something was bothering you and he wanted to help clear it up for you.

He gently cupped your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “What’s on your mind, jellybean?”

You blank at his question. You didn’t think you’d have to tell him how you felt right now- you weren’t ready. Not yet.

You could feel your throat close up with the pressure of telling him the truth. Your lips move like a fish gasping for air but no words come out- well, none the way you want it to. “I-” You stammer. The sting of unwanted tears glazes your eyes. You feel your chest tighten as pressure overwhelms you, weighing you down by the shoulders and crushing you to the ground.

“Hey, hey,” Jongho whispers to you, pulling you in a comforting embrace. He reached up to stroke the back of your head. He could feel how your hands desperately clutched at the fabric of his dress jacket, your warm tears soaking through it as they drop to his shoulder.

“It’s okay, _____,” He mumbles into your hair. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable… But I have something I want to tell you.”

He gently peels away from you, cupping your cheeks in his warm palms, thumbs brushing over the apples of your cheeks. The way he looks at you makes your emotions stir with confusion. His gaze held so much love for you. It was tender and held so much emotion- so many things he wanted to say that were just about ready to tip over and spill out for you.

“_____,” He starts out softly as he brushes away your tears. “We’ve been friends for a long, long time. And honestly, I’m glad that you decided to give me a chance to be your friend despite accidentally smacking your face during recess.”

You both laughed at that, with you hiccuping through your tears. Nevertheless, Jongho’s speech never wavered and he continued for you.

“I’ve always wanted to talk to you the minute you moved into the neighborhood but I just didn’t know how. So imagine the horror I felt when I accidentally hit you. But despite that you still brushed it off and befriended me.

“Since then you’ve been a stable constant in my life. You helped me out of my shell and see things on a lighter note. You’ve been to every game I’m in, cheering me on whether I’m on the bench or not. You helped me discover my passion of singing and helped me pursue it. Let’s not forget every time you’ve caught every bug and saved me from it despite you showing it to me-”

“To be fair, gummy bear, they’re just harmless bugs.” You giggle to which he pouts at.

“They’re still insects. They’re monsters in tiny disguise; harmless my ass...” Jongho argues, successfully drawing a laugh from you. The corner of his lips twitch upward at the sound but he continues.

“Anyway moving on- my point is: having you in my life has changed it for the better. I don’t think I’d be the same person as I am today without you if you weren’t here for me. And over years- I’ve realized something that I should’ve done so earlier…”

Jongho tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your cheek afterward. You could only look up to him in wonder- eyes searching his for what he was trying to say.

He took a deep breath and decided to throw all caution to the wind. It was now or never-. Whatever the outcome was- he was going to accept it. He lets out a shaky sigh and holds your gaze firmly, eyes sparkling with a sense of vulnerability.

“_____, I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words. Was this real? Were you hallucinating? Did he actually just tell you the words you’ve been dying to hear?

“You- I- what?”

“I said I love you.” The brunet replied, desperation seeping into his voice. “I’ve always had. You’re always on my mind when I wake up in the morning and wave to you through the window and before I go to sleep after begging you to quit staying up for your studies.”

You take a few moments to process his words before a grin makes its way to your face. And before you knew it you were throwing your arms around him, catching him by surprise. He responds almost immediately after, hugging you to him as you laughed into his shoulder.

All your worries melted away so suddenly and the weight was finally lifted off your shoulders. “You had me worried there for a second,” You tell him as you pull your head away to look at him. “Because I feel the same way.”

“Is that why you were so nervous earlier?”

You only nod in response to his question, leaning your forehead against his. The music from his phone was still playing, making you sway to the soft rhythm. Jongho follows suit, his gaze flickering over to your lips as he allows this moment to engulf the two of you.

You don’t miss this motion and you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. “Hey, Jongho- do you mind if I ask you something?” He hums, signalling for you to continue. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“It’s fine by me,”

You chuckle softly and cup his cheeks. You tease him a little by giving them a quick pinch, making him whine playfully, before standing on your toes to press your lips to his. Jongho sighs blissfully as he tilts his head against yours, deepening it further.

It was a bit of a silly sight from an outsider’s perspective- a guy in his prom suit kissing his childhood friend in their bear onesie. But it didn’t matter to either of you. You wouldn’t trade this moment for any of the riches in the world.

Smiles rest upon both your lips when the two of you pull away, too wrapped up in each other’s presence to notice your mother taking a picture of the two of you. The flash from her phone distracts you two and all color drains from your face when you realize what had happened.

“MOM!” You call out to her. She only laughs and scutters away to the living room, most likely telling your father or siblings what was happening outside.

You groan out in embarrassment at what just took place. “I’m never living this down.”

Jongho shook his head, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Just think of it as memorabilia or something.”

You blush again for the umpteenth time that night when you feel his lips against your cheek. “Fine… but I’m getting that photo from her or she’ll hold it over our heads.”

The both of you lapse into silence again, the music from Jongho’s phone still playing in the night. “I love you so much, jellybean.” He whispers.

“I love you too, gummy bear.”

#kpop #ateez #ateez x reader #choi jongho #choi jongho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #fandomsonrequests

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nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Headcanon: MC taking care of the boys’ pets feat; Leonardo, Sabastian, Comte and Dazai

Hi hi, dears! ❤☺🌻Hehe so here is the final Hc for Mc taking care of the vampy bois pets! Thank you so much for all the sweet comments on my previous posts ya guys make my heart so happy! Thanks so much! ❤❤🌻Love yass lots and I hope yall enjoy this and have a super good day! ❤🌻So as requested to be tagged by these lovely wonderful people here ya go!🦊🌻🦋

@jiyuu-chan @datenoriko @briars7 @jeandarc-cant-draw @stardust-dreamer13 love ya guys hope yall keeping safe and warm! 🥰☺

Leonardo

Leonardo had a couple of errands to run in town and his little kitten was being rather clingy

Leo had a full day planned of helping the towns’ people, most of which were somewhat superstitious when it came to pitch-black cats

He looked over at you peacefully sleeping away and gently leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, “Cara mia I have a few errands to run today, would you mind keeping Lumiere company while I’m away?”

He smiled as you groggily mumbled something

At the sound of his name, the back kitten jumped up onto the bed and curiously looked up at Leo

“I’ll be back soon Lumiere be a good kitten while I’m gone,” he gave the cat a final head pat, before leaning down to place a final parting kiss on your cheek

You lazily reached out to scoop up the little kitten and bring him into a warm embrace as you continued to sleep in

You woke up the playful kitten clawing at you face, bouncing around on your bed in an attempt to play with you

The second you got up the little cat got a fright and dove under the covers only to reappear moments later, to wish you a good moring by rubbing his body against your arm as he purred

Lumiere watched from the bed tail swishing from side to side, as you lazily got dressed and ready for the day

You made your way to the dining room with the small black cat in tow

After the little creature had eaten his breakfast he started pouncing on your feet as you sat and finished your breakfast

You couldn’t help but adopt the cat’s playful mood as a mischievous smiled crossed your face, the second you saw the van Gogh brothers enter into the dining room

The minute the two newcomers entered into the room Lumiere’s attention was on them

The little kitten couldn’t help but start playing with the grumpier Van Goghs scarf

Both you and Vincent locked eyes and giggled as the gruff brother was blissfully unaware of the cat destroying his scarf as he ate his beloved pancakes

Once the pancakes had been devoured Theo’s gaze drifted down to the little critter playing with the ends of his scarf

He fell back on his chair and let out a shriek

Both you and Vincent broke out laughing as Theo finally discovered the little kitten playing by his feet

You couldn’t help but chase Theo around the mansion with the little kitten, to get him back for all the times he and Arthur had pranked you

After spending a better part of the morning terrorizing Theo, you and Lumier found a warm spot in front of the library window to take a nap

Which lasted much longer than anticipated as when you woke up you were cuddled in Leo’s arms with the kitten curled up in a ball nestled in the crook of Leo’s neck

Sabastian

You woke up that morning with a sticky note stuck to your forehead

Groggily you sat up and read the little note left to you by Sabastian

It had said that he had some urgent business in town and that he needed someone to feed and keep his dear little pet company for a few hours

You were slightly confused as you never realized that Sabastian had a pet

You had met everyone in the mansions furry, feathery and prickly companions but have yet to meet Sabastian’s

He indicated that his beloved pet was in the last room in the stables

You smiled thinking that perhaps Sabastian had been a secret equestrian and had a beautiful pet horse

You got up and dressed, and make your way to the stables

You walked through the rows of beautiful horses when you finally reached the end

You opened the stable door and was shocked as you had come upon a lavishly decorated room

And instead of finding a horse, you found a snow while lamb peacefully sleeping in a pile of the fluffiest blankets, you had ever seen

The second the little thing heard you, he bounced up and curiously pranced his way towards you

He rubbed his head against your hand affectionately as he let out a content “meh”

The little creature then skipped out of the stables and to the mansion’s kitchen and looked up at you expectingly

That’s when you remembered that you were supposed to serve him some breakfast

You opened the kitchen cupboard designated for the mansion’s residents pet’s food, and found a bottle

You then filled the bottle with milk and fed the little lamb, you honestly enjoyed the experience so much that you made a mental note to ask Sabastian if you could feed the lamb every morning

Once the sweetheart had, had his fill, he jumped around excitedly and full of energy.

He gave you a small headbutt as if asking you to play with him.

You smiled as you chase after the snow white lamb wondering if this is how Sabastian’s spent his early mornings before getting breakfast service ready

After a while, you were so tired and out of breath that you flopped down to lay on the plush grass

The little lamb skipped over to you and nuzzled you affectionately before hopping off to case some butterflies in the field

You sat on the grass for a few moments watching the sweet scene before you

You panicked for a moment when you saw Arthur’s dog, start to chase after Sabastions dear pet

But relaxed when you saw that sweet little Vic was continuing your game of tag with the lamb

Sabastian made his way up to you and plonked himself down beside you on the grass wearing a fond smile

“Thank you for feeding Lotte this morning for me.”

Comte

Comte had a day full of meetings with some important people out of the mansion

He sat at his desk and looked down at the letter before him

His little ferret, Thyme, was peacefully resting on his lap enjoying the feeling of Comte’s gentle hands stroking his soft fur

Comte sighed as he summoned Sabstian over to let him know the plans for the day.

Usually, Sabastian would watch his sweet little ferret while he was away, but today he needed Sabastian by his side, as he took care of important business

Suddenly you appeared carrying a tray of tea and snacks for the pureblood and he smiled a charming smile at you

He beckoned you to take a seat and enjoy some tea with him

He asked you the favour of watching his beloved pet while he was gone for the day

You beamed up at Comte and nodded.

Comte stood up and placed his beloved little Thyme on your lap as he and Sabastian made their way into town.

The ferret looked up at you expectingly as he walked a little circle on your lap in an attempt to get comfortable once more.

Finally comfortable the little critter started barking at you as if to say “Please pet me”

When you finally started petting the little creature, he let out happy chittering sound

You spend most of the afternoon with the little critter curled up in your lap as you stroked his soft fur and read

Waking up from his afternoon nap, thyme was full of energy and ready to play

He jumped down from your lap and ran over to a chest in the corner of Comte’s room.

The second you opened the box the little creature climbed in and pulled out a ball

The excited little critter started running around the room with the little ball, barking in delight

Soon the noodle creature escaped the confines of the room and made his way straight to the garden

You ran after the little guy only to find him playing in a puddle of mud

The second the critter spotted you he made a beeline for you and jumped into your arms. His once soft snow-white fur was now covered in mud.

You decided to give the little trouble maker a bath to restore his soft snow-white fur to its former glory

This playful creature was having a ball playing with the little bath toys that Comte had bought for him, as you cleaned his fur,

He hopped and splashed about the water without a care in the world, until you were thoroughly soaked.

He whined when you took him out warm water and placed him on the ground, however that was short-lived, as soon he started happily chirping away at being towel-dried

Thyme honestly loved the attention

You had noticed that in Thyme’s little chest, Comte had kept small outfits for the little creature, so you decided to play dress-up with the ball of energy

You sat in front of the chest filled with various cute little outfits, you finally decided on a yellow dress with sunflowers

Thyme absolutely loved playing dress-up and the second, the dress was secured he scurried over to a small mirror to check himself out

You laughed as the little ferret started doing a few poses in front of the mirror,

Even more so, when you placed a tiny flower-crown on his head

Comte walked into the room and couldn’t help but chuckled at the sight of his beloved pet running over to him to show off his cute little outfit

Dazai

Dazai’s books started gaining a lot of traction under the people of Paris and his agent had summoned him to do a book signing of his newest release

Dazai had been writing under an alias for a while now, and was low key surprised that his newest books had become so popular

His agent had given him no choice in the matter forcing him to do the signing.

Dazai, however, had one major problem, who was going to keep his sweet little bird company while he was away

He looked out his bedroom window and spotted you outside in the garden reading a book.

He hopped out the window and made his way to the garden to ask you the favour

You now found yourself in Dazais room holding the tiny bird, as Dazai thanked you for watching his companion and affectionately ruffled the little bird’s feathers with his fingertips

The second Dazai left the room the sweet little bird flew over to the stack of papers on Dazai’s desk and started tearing them up

Your eyes went wide as you weren’t exactly sure what to do, you hoped that whatever the little creature was tearing up hadn’t been of too much importance

You sat on his chair and watched the bird cheerfully chirping away as he happily tore up the papers into shreds and then proceeded to make a little makeshift nest in the corner of Dazai’s desk

Once the little bird was satisfied he hopped into the little nest and looked up at you

The second he noticed the bag of seeds you were holding, he excitingly hopped his way over to you, accidentally spilling some ink on the desk

The little bird without a care in the world, tracked small ink footprints all over Dazai’s desk to get to where you were sitting

You smiled as you placed a few seeds in the palm of your hand and watched as the bird happily ate them

In the distance, you could hear Mozart playing the piano and you heart absolutely melted, when the little bird comfortably nestled himself in the palm of your hand and chirped along to the tune

Once the song ended the little birds face dropped

You decided to cheer him up by singing a little song of your own

You were super surprised as the bird now happily chirped along to the song that you were singing

Suddenly little Buntas eyes lit up as he got an idea. Still singing you curiously eyed the bird as he found a little bell

He flew back to you, rest in your palm now shaking the small bell ball and chirping along to your song

The little guy was honestly so cute you couldn’t help but carefully pet him

The little bird returned you affection by giving the palm of your hand an affectionate head rub

As Bunta hopped around your palm he noticed your gold bracelet

Bunta LOVES shiny things

The little bird tried to steal your bracelet off your arm by gently pulling at it with his little beak

You giggled slightly, as the bird started getting frustrated, and decided to take off the bracelet and hand it to him

The second the bracelet was freed the little bird carried it in his beak and flew to his cage where he placed it on his little swing in front of the mirror

You couldn’t help but laugh at the little bird, as he added your golden bracelet to his shiny treasure-trove of stolen jewellery

You could tell this little bird had been stealing shiny belongings from all the residents for a while now

You spotted a golden pocket watch, cufflinks, buttons, earrings and even one of vincents paintbrushes.

By the time Dazai got home from his book signing, he found you cleaning up the mess Bunta had made while the bird watched you from his tiny swing, happily chirping away

That’s the end of that hehe hope ya guys enjoyed this! 🥰☺And I hope everybody is having a good day! :)🦊🦋❤

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day.

a commission for @lovelycarose

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident. “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer/reader #eliot spencer fanfiction #eliot spencer #leverage #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff

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