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gennyanydots · 2 years

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All Hail the Heartbreaker

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

Masterlist

Warning: this part is angsty as fuck. High school Jake is straight up a manipulative asshole.

Part 1 of 3

Part 2

Part 3

Just his name could send your mind reeling and cause your breath to quicken. It always felt like an out of body experience.

He had known exactly what he was doing. He saw you for what you were, a shy, naive little girl pining away after the most popular boy in school. He saw his chance and he made his home inside your brain, cozied on up to your abandonment issues and your self esteem problems. He controlled you however he wanted since you grew to crave his attention. Any attention from him. For two years.

Jake used you however he saw fit. Whenever he saw fit.

“Did you do the homework last night, princess? Think I could take a peek at your answers real fast? Just want to check that you did it right. Wouldn’t want you to get a bad grade.”

“Darlin’, do you think you could stop by the store later for me on your way over? You said you got some money from babysitting the other day.”

“Baby, you know I love you so much, right? Why don’t you come over tonight and cook us some dinner instead of going to the movies with your friends? My parents went out tonight.”

“We should definitely be partners for that project, darlin’. I know you can get us an A.”

You didn’t want to see how he was treating you. You didn’t want to acknowledge his treatment or his lies.

Oh the lies.

“You know nobody will ever love you like I can?”

“Do your friends even care about you, darlin’? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I’m just going to hang out with my buddies, princess. Nobody else will be there. Promise.”

“C’mon baby, you know I only have eyes for you. She was just asking about the homework.”

“We were just talkin’ in my room. Nothing to worry your pretty little mind over.”

“Why are you getting so upset? I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that.”

You’ll still never know the true extent of his lies.

You didn’t want to dig too far, afraid of what you might find.

You knew enough.

You were told enough.

You’d seen enough.

His friends felt bad for you. Told you that you didn’t deserve to be treated this way. You didn’t deserve to be lied to like this. You knew it had to be bad if some immature high school boys took the time to tell you.

You stopped by his house one day to drop a freshly baked pie off even though he wasn’t home. Jake’s father took you aside to make sure you knew this wasn’t how he raised his son. Jake wasn’t raised to treat anyone like this, let alone someone he supposedly loved.

His father told you to leave Jake. Told you that he can’t stand seeing his son hurt you like this.

You told his father and his friends that you had no idea what they were talking about but that was a lie. Deep down you knew. Deep down you’d known all along. You didn’t want to admit it. You so badly wanted this to work.

Why couldn’t the shy girl get the quarterback? Why couldn’t they fall in love and be high school sweethearts? Get married and have a bunch of kids. Why couldn’t someone like him be interested in someone like you?

Though you knew why. Other girls whispered exactly why to each other when they thought you couldn’t hear. You still pretended not to.

It was all a picture perfect dream come true for you until the edges started to fray and the colors faded.

You held on. You wanted it so badly but you also didn’t want to see the aftermath. When he was finally turned loose and was able to do what he wanted without hiding anything.

You knew what you had to do. You just didn’t want to. You needed an easier way.

So you convinced your parents that you had to move to college early. You had to move immediately after high school. You needed time to acclimate to your new state. Somehow they agreed. You’re not sure if it was some divine intervention or if somehow they had heard the whispers around town. It’s not like he hid what he was doing well and you lived in such a small town. Everyone was always in each other’s business.

Months ago you called your cousin crying when you started to think about what to do about Jake. Russel was your best friend. The two of you spent every summer together as children on your grandparent’s ranch. Thick as thieves your grandparents would say. Even though he was a few years older your friendship never wavered as you grew up. He was like your big brother.

Russ helped you to decide that the best course of action was to break it off and leave. That way you didn’t have to see what he does afterwards. You could be anywhere else. Doing anything else. And if you didn’t run into your friends or his friends nobody would tell you anything. Russ may have also convinced you that you needed to go to college at the same college he goes to . States away from Texas. Safe away from Texas.

So that’s what you did. The night before you left to head to your new school you broke it off with Jake.

He didn’t react much just shrugged it off. Told you that you weren’t that pretty anyways and that you never put out for him. Told you he planned to break up with you soon anyways before he headed to the Naval Academy. He couldn’t date someone like you when he went there. He needed to be dating someone more on his level and you just weren’t it. You’d never been it. If anything he pitied you and that’s why you two were dating.

You nodded and showed him the door quickly. You wouldn’t let him see you cry. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction.

Part 2

#jake seresin x reader #angsty hangman #hangman x female reader #Jake hangman Seresin x female reader #all hail the heartbreaker

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 5 months

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Find the word

Thanks to @chauceryfairytales here and here!

My words: reflection, drop, glint, slam, rain, thunder, glass, frame

Your words: opinion, dedicate, detail, smile

Tagging @ceph-the-ghost-writer @loopyhoopywrites @i-can-even-burn-salad @talesofsorrowandofruin @mysticstarlightduck @diabolical-blue + anyone else who wants :)

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Keep reading for:

Akash's hair

Rose makes an observation

George can learn

Gwen is sneaking

Rose makes the discovery of the century

Jack sees the giant's castle

Kelsey reflects on her powers

Jack inside the giant's castle

Reflection - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

I glared at my reflection. My hair wouldn’t stay down no matter what I did. I sighed. If the definition of insanity was repeating the same thing and expecting a different result, I should’ve been locked away years ago. As I fixed my collar, I looked around my new quarters. It was smaller than the room I had at Carmen’s place—this base was tiny compared to Carmen’s, despite its elaborate underground. I didn’t mind, but it would take adjustment, and so far the couple weeks I’d been here, it wasn't quite enough. However, the Baxters seemed like cool people. Chiller than Jedi and Carmen.

Drop - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

“See you in gym!” I waved goodbye and bolted to the Music Wing to drop off my violin before sprinting across the school—yelling hello to Lucy Day—the best I could with a giant backpack. I shoved the darn thing into the tiny alcove of my locker, pulled out my English notebook, school laptop, colored gel pens, and day planner, then dashed to class. I arrived panting, collapsing into my seat at the table with my friends Gwen and Rose. “You made it,” Rose observed.

Glint - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

“Okay, one more question,” said Lexi, deciding to ignore what a bearfalo was, “what powers do y’all have?” “Actually, I have a second one,” I interjected finally, sitting on this for a while. “What powers do we have?” “To answer your question first,” George said to me, “we don’t know. We do have a machine to test your blood, but I’ve never used it. You may be on your own.” He got a glint in his eye. “I can learn.”

Slam - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

Taking a deep breath, I slowly moved my right foot down the side. When I didn’t slip, I moved my left foot. I moved my right hand, then left hand. Right foot. Left foot. Right hand. Left hand. Right foot. Left foot. Right hand. Left hand. Right foot. Left— My left foot slammed into a vent cover, knocking me off balance and causing my butt to slam against the cover, knocking it off. I fell through the hole and somehow managed to grab the edges of the vent. I heard the cover crash onto the floor below me as I dangled from the ceiling.

Rain - from The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

As we came closer, I could see a rock about two feet in diameter. Metal by the look of it. Only, it didn’t seem rusted at all, which was strange, unless it didn’t rain in this field. “Great,” Noelle said. “A rock. Discovery of the century.” She cupped her hands to her mouth. “Ladies and nonexistent gentlemen! Rose Hernandez found a rock!”

[Technically, oxygen causes stuff to rust, and there is clearly oxygen here. I've been debating changing this line because on one hand Maddie likes science and may know this, on the other hand she's like a month into sixth grade and leans more toward engineering. I'll figure it out, but the point is this is the only time I mention the word rain. I think I need to change the weather more often.]

Thunder - from School of the Legends Year One

Jack scrutinized the castle before him. It stretched up, up, up into the sky--and as they were already in the clouds, Jack didn’t want to know how high the tallest tower was above the ground--how he wouldn’t like to be the poor bloke who was defenestrated from it. The castle was made of some sort of dark stone, giving it the unsettling feel of a haunted house. There was the cobblestone path, yes, but on either side of it, Jack realized that yes, they were still on clouds, though where the castle was, the clouds were dark and gray, and when Jack listened closely enough, he realized that there was a booming irregular pulse of thunder that shook the ground ever-so-slightly, enough to cause the stone beneath his shoes to rattle.

Glass - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

“And… I broke a lot of glass.” “Whaddaya mean by ‘a lot’?” I asked. “Just the glasses we were drinking out of during dinner,” Kelsey said, her eyes becoming fixated on her hands. “Deanna got some stuck in her hand.” “Oh,” I whispered. “She’s okay, now,” Kelsey said. “But that didn’t matter.”

Frame - from School of the Legends Year One

As the side table was pushed up against the recliner, and at about the same height, crossing from one to the other did not require a stalk. Thankfully, the top of the table wasn't bare, and Jack, Jill, and Beau could hide behind the objects. At the very least, it made Jack feel a lot more comfortable than as exposed as he was climbing up the recliner. There was a picture of the two giants in a nice frame--the two smiling at the camera; such a juxtaposition to their stoic single photos on the mantle. Maybe these two were just normal folks, Jack thought. But every time the male giant sniffed the air, Jack wondered if maybe they were normal giants who ate humans. He hoped not for his, Jill, and Beau’s sake. There was a candlestick centered on the table behind the picture, a flame flickering at the wick. A little old-timey, but at the moment, the only thing Jack really cared about was their shadows not being cast on the giants.

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moonlitceleste · 1 year

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wish upon a moonstone (ch 6)

wuam masterlist ao3

It’s already been a few days since the end of Hallowe’en, but the buzzing of Hogwarts’ students makes it sound like they’re still on a sugar high.

Beauxbatons had been much more focused on keeping appearances compared to Hogwarts; while her former school celebrated with refined decorations and sharp reprimands of “those pumpkins aren’t for eating!,” Hogwarts seemed to be much more indulgent. She had seen goblets of colored sweets in each hallway, orange streamers hanging from the high ceilings, and a highly entertaining performance put on by the Hogwarts ghosts.

It had been very excitable, and it seems like the other students are still riding the high of the event. Professor Tyler takes longer than usual to call the classroom to attention, sighing greatly as he has to reprimand a chatty Slytherin to their seat.

“Alright, settle down,” he says, still waving people to their desks. “Today is an important discussion, so I don’t want to hear any side conversations, hmm? No need to take notes,” he adds after hearing the rustle of blank scrolls.

“This project,” he starts, tapping the board after everyone rushes to their seats, “will last the entire year.” He chuckles at the groans that result. “We won’t start until the hols, but if any of you want to get a headstart, you’re free to begin earlier.”

Professor Tyler waves his wand, and strips of paper begin to float out of the glass jar on his desk. “This is a partner project—” more groans “—and these slips will decide what potion you’re assigned.”

The students watch their fate, etched onto slips of white paper, hover before their eyes as Professor Tyler explains the premise of their project. It’s split into two parts, the potion-making and the presentation. Each pair must alter the formula of their assigned potion to change its effects, with the stipulation that the outcome must be recognizable as a variation of the initial potion. After the deadline, each pair must present their potion to the class, detailing what changes they’d made, their experimentation process, and a demonstration of said potion.

“I don’t expect success from all of you, but your presentation must be thorough in order to receive full credit.”

Professor Tyler tells them to move to their stations with their partner. Marinette does so with a looming sense of anticipation. It’s an ambitious project, which isn’t exactly the cause for her doubt— ah, there it is, she thinks, as her partner sits beside her with a scowl. She hopes they can learn to work together eventually, considering how much of their grade this project makes up. Marinette offers him a tentative smile. She receives a blank stare in return.

After a few moments of awkward silence in which the rest of the students settle down, Professor Tyler distributes the slips. It floats in front of Marinette, and she takes it from the air, opening the folded slip. Her jaw drops.

Marinette blinks and refocuses her eyes. She looks back, staring at the Amortentia scrawled on the surface.

“What is it,” Damian demands, and she’s too entrenched in her dread to react to his rudeness. Her life has got to be some kind of joke.

“Oh,” he says, the vowel containing more emotion than anything else she’s heard him say. At least they can agree on something.

Marinette is still reeling the next day. Unfortunately, Felix is at Quidditch practice, so she can’t distract herself from the cliché rom-com her life has turned into. Oh, what she’d give to return to her favorite sport—though she no longer minds her transfer, it’s still disappointing that she hadn’t gotten a chance to try out for the team.

She leaves the library after some preliminary research for the potions project, having written eleven inches of notes already in a haphazard scrawl. Maybe she’ll head to the Great Hall next?

Marinette strolls the halls leisurely, glancing at the paintings that cover the walls and the intricate columns that decorate the school. Now that she’s more accustomed to the school, she doesn’t mind taking her time to admire the architecture. Most people are in class, anyways, so she doesn’t have to worry about crowds of students frantically marching to their next class. As she turns the corner, however, a familiar mop of dark hair enters her field of vision.

“Jon?” she calls hesitantly, then feels immediate dread set in. Boy, it’d be really embarrassing if it wasn’t him. Imagine how dumb the other person would think she was, and knowing her luck, she’d realize she actually had a class with them, and she’d remember this moment every time she saw their face…

“Mari!”

Jon turns around and beams at her. He looks to be in quite the upbeat mood, but she’s found that friendly seems to be his default state. After his greeting, however, he glances around cautiously and beckons her closer with one hand.

“Hey, do you want some food?” he whispers. A strange thing to be secretive about, but because she grew up in a bakery, Marinette’s answer to that question would never be no.

Turns out Jon’s idea of food is a painting of a fruit bowl in one of Hogwarts’ numerous underground corridors.

“Are you going to do some magic and make this fruit bowl come to life?” Marinette quips. Jon smirks instead of responding and… tickles the pear?

“I take it back. Are you on a euphoria potion?”

She considers rallying him back to his common room, but before she can act, the pear transforms into a doorknob right before her eyes. Maybe she’s the one on a euphoria potion.

“Go ahead,” Jon prompts, and she levels him a suspicious look before she cautiously puts a hand on the knob and pushes the door open.

The door opens to a high-ceilinged room made of stone—Marinette spots a massive fireplace at the end, counters stacked with pots and pans and utensils. The entire kitchen, presumably, is milling about with house-elves, save for an area to the side with long tables similar to the Great Hall.

While she’d been staring, Jon had already stepped past the painting and into the room. “Come in,” he beckons. The door swings shut behind Marinette, and she subconsciously leans closer to him in her bafflement.

“Master Kent,” the house-elf who runs up to them squeaks. “What can Mipsey do for you?” The elf’s charming dress flounces after her, the cream fabric dotted with pink flowers.

“What’s on the menu today?” Jon peers over the crowd of house-elves, looking at the large pan they had pulled from of the fireplace. “Cornish pasties?”

“Quite intelligent, Master Kent!” Mipsey praises. Her excitement has Marinette mirroring Jon’s wide smile, but she still feels a bit of nervousness. None of her friends in Beauxbatons had a house-elf, and Chloe hadn’t exactly been her friend. The blonde girl treated all her ‘hired help’ the same: badly.

“Come on, let’s sit!” Jon gestures Marinette over to the tables. “Mipsey would kill me if I put my dirty hands on that tray.”

“Master Kent!” the elf scolds.

Once his laughter clears up, Jon explains the situation to Marinette. “I come here every once in a while to meet snacks with one of my friends. Right, I hope you don’t mind if she joins us. I think you’ll get along pretty well though. Her name is—”

And of course, in dramatic fashion, said friend opens the door right at that moment.

“Maps!”

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@astoriaandromeda @avengerthewarrior @bluesimani @enternalempires @ev-cupcake @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @heart-charming @idontwannaexistsopleasekillme @iloontjeboontje @jayjayspixiepop @jalaluvsu @jeminiikrystal @jumpingjoy82 @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @no-username2544 @phis-corner @too0bsessedformyowngood @ultimatetornshipper

WUAM TAGLIST @hardcore-daminette-shipper

#wuam #maribat #daminette #celestewrites #cel's fics

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briamichellewrites · 1 year

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I’m an alcoholic. Bria learned that her addiction wasn’t her fault. It was caused by an imbalance of chemicals in her brain. She was also predisposed to addiction because of her mother. In rehab, she had to figure out why she started drinking. Loneliness and depression. The more she drank, the worse her depression became. That only caused her to drink more, which caused her to continue drinking. At first, nobody knew she was drinking because she was able to hide it.

She also lied to herself about how serious her drinking was. Her mind told her she didn’t have a problem because she wasn’t drinking until she passed out. She thought she had a handle on it. When did she realize she had a problem? That happened when her friends started noticing something was wrong. She was so in denial that she wouldn’t admit it.

What happened to make her admit she needed help? She had gone to the hospital because she was throwing up and had lost weight. The doctor told her if she continued drinking, her liver would shut down and she would need a transplant. That scared her into admitting she had a problem. She went from the hospital into detox for a month before going into rehab. How long was she an alcoholic? Five years. It was a miracle she was still alive.

Bradley was recording his interviews with her. He asked her questions about her mother, her childhood in the foster care system, her experiences in school, her getting discovered, and her career. He found out that she was the product of childhood sexual abuse. Her mother had been given drugs and sexually assaulted by her father until she became pregnant at sixteen years old.

She went into rehab for six months. After giving birth, she surrendered her at a police station. Then, she disappeared until police found her body a year or two later. She had died from an overdose of heroin. Bria had a lot of compassion and sympathy for her mother because of what she experienced. She was abused over and over by the person who was supposed to protect her – her father. What happened to him? He was in prison. Thank god.

He was arrested after her mother disclosed who the father of her baby was. Bradley was saddened to learn that. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go through that.

“My mother did the most selfless thing any parent could do and that was giving me a chance at a better life. Growing up, I wondered about her. What happened to her that made her unable to keep me, that sort of thing? I thought maybe she was a teenager or she already had a child and couldn’t afford to have another. Or, she was escaping from a bad situation. Then, I learned what happened to her. I wish I could have met her and told her it wasn’t her fault.”

Her childhood consisted of moving around in the foster care system. She had ADHD, so she had a ton of energy when she was younger. Her foster parents couldn’t control her. They called her social worker and told her they couldn’t handle her and to pick her up. She had also developed an attitude of Don’t mess with me to protect herself from getting hurt.

When she was sixteen, she had enough. She broke down in tears because she was having to move again. Her social worker consoled her, as they sat in her car. She knew it was just going to be the same thing over and over until she turned eighteen. She filed for emancipation. Once she got it, she dropped out of school. She had been in tenth grade at the time. She explained her learning disability, dyscalculia, and how it affected her. In school, she was the weird girl who dyed her hair crazy colors.

“I got suspended once for dying my hair pink. My foster parents fought against that and got my suspension removed. I also got to keep my pink hair.”

He laughed.

Mike and Brad were also interviewed because they were close friends with her. They also worked with her in the studio. Bradley learned that she and Brad had dated for about a year. Then, she cheated on him while going through a mental health crisis. He worked through the pain of finding out she had cheated on him and was able to forgive her. Despite breaking up, they were still friends.

He asked that he not include the fact that she cheated because he didn’t want the world to know that. Bradley promised that wouldn’t be included. Thank you.

“We should have the other Brad here. Then, it could be Brad, Bradford, and Bradley”, she joked.

“It would give a different meaning of BBB”, Brad joked.

“Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that.”

“BBB”, Bradley asked.

“It’s my nickname. Big Bad Brad”, he replied with a laugh.

When Chester, Joe, Rob, and Phoenix showed up, he was able to meet them. They were the only family she had and they treated her as such. Though they weren’t recording, they all came in to meet Bradley and talk about the documentary he was working on with Bria. Almost all of them met her in 1999 when she was signed to the same record label as them. How were her cats? They were assholes.

What did they do? Cream decided she wasn’t getting enough attention, so she knocked all of her clean clothes off her bed. She had picked them up from the laundry room and was going to put them away when she got back from a therapy appointment. When she walked in, they were scattered across the floor. She asked which cat did it. Cream just looked at her like she was asking what she was going to do about it. That led to an argument because obviously, she wasn’t going to help her pick them up.

They laughed. Later, she wanted to cuddle like nothing happened. Then, Cookies left one of her toy mice in her shoe. She thought it was real. Did she scream? No, she was more annoyed than scared. At least it wasn’t shit. They laughed.

“If I get another kitten, I’ll name it Phoenix Farrell”, she joked.

“You should get a ginger kitten and name it Phoenix”, Brad joked.

“A feral Farrell”, Rob said.

“I’m single. So, yes. I’m feral. My mom keeps reminding me of that.”

“Poor, poor you.”

They laughed. While talking about the documentary, Joe was pointed out. He had experience directing since he directed some of their music videos. Both he and Mike had experience with recording and producing soundtracks. What was Joe’s background? It was art. He studied art at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena but he didn’t graduate. That was where he met Mike.

Bradley wanted to talk more with them about helping out. Yeah, they could do that. Bradley could see how much they loved Bria. Six guys looked out for her, celebrated her wins, encouraged her through the hard times, and joked around with her. They all had different backgrounds and personalities, but they got along like brothers. Nobody had an ego and there wasn’t any rivalry. When they did have problems, they worked through them together.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

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queenoftheworldisdead · 3 years

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Could you maybe write something with dark dark Steve who has a huge size kink and crying kink and loves to humiliate?

School Days

Note: sorry it took so long. been kinda down. also hope i did OK with humiliation.

Summary: Co-worker makes you feel uncomfortable.

Warning: 18+Only, short reader, size kink, crying kink, humiliation kink, non consent, forced fingering and cock warming i think

Dark Coach Steve x Short Teacher Reader

📚

You had always had a love of teaching. Growing up your friends would always groan when it was your turn to pick what to play, because you always chose to play school.

You knew exactly what you wanted to do when you got to college. You wanted to shape young minds. It was fascinating watching them grow and learn right before your very eyes.

Shelby elementary hired you two years after you received all of your certificates. Replacing their beloved Mrs.Pepper Potts after she moved out of town with her husband.

You taught first graders. You preferred teaching the lower grades. The higher grades were a bit difficult. Competing for attention when most of the students where dealing with raging hormones proved an exhausting endeavor. Your short stature became a reoccurring issue too. During your student teacher days you realized the taller they got the more they seemed to not take you seriously.

At least working with the lower grades you were less likely to be confused as a student. You had lost track of how many times you were stopped in the hall by a colleague. With the lower grades you towered over your class and commanded respect with little effort.

📚

You felt exhausted. Your first parent teacher meeting was over. It was endearing and encouraging that so many parents had so many concerns about the development of their little ones. But their critiques on your credentials didn't fail to strike a nerve, an issue new teachers faced all the time. You smiled through it as you normally did. Letting them have their back handed remarks as you answered and waited out the clock.

When it was all over you needed a drink. You cleared up the mess they left for you, a preview of what to expect from their spawn.

When everything was in its place you tackled the blackboard. Taking out your stool you stood on tip toes erasing. You had the bright idea of outlining your curriculum on the board for all the parents to view. It was hard getting it all on the massive board, but with your step stool you got as high as you could go.

"Hey! Whoa you know that's dangerous." A voice rushed to your side as your stool tilted.

"Are you OK little one?" he asked helping you down.

God he's tall. You barely came eye to eye with his chest. You tensed in his arms and when he realized his mistake he released you.

"Oh sorry" he rubbed the back of his head slightly embarrassed. "I'm Steve Rogers." He reached out a hand for you to shake. You took it and introduced yourself. His firm grip swallowed your hand, when he squeezed you held in the hurt from the pressure.

Steve's presence was intimidating despite the smile he wore. When he released your hand, you took as step back, but he stepped forward.

He is just a close talker. Don't over analyze.

"Sorry again with your clothes I just assumed you were..." He motioned at your clothing.

Taking inspiration from Ms Frizz, your favorite animated teacher, you always wore colorful puffy skirts that depicted various things related to education or fairy tails. The look kept the attention of the youngsters, but it certainly didn't look childish.

"It's OK, but I am afraid you are a bit late for the meeting."

Spinning away you move to the other side of your desk to give yourself more space. "If you wouldn't mind filling in your information, encase of emergencies or special needs. I know you probably filled it out for the front office, but I like to have my own copy." You explained as you handed him a pen and the piece of construction paper with the other parents info.

He took it and filled it out. "I just erased the curriculum, but I can email you a copy."

"Did you also used to teach at Camdien?" Steve inquired, bending over your desk as he wrote. While you waited you packed up your belongings.

"Um yes I was a student teacher there. Did you have a child there too?"

"I coached there actually. Well was." He rose and approached you. Slipping your purse straps on your shoulder, you tried to remember if you seen his face before. You didn't recognize it. As striking as he was you doubted you would forget it.

But the athletic department lived in a world separate from the teachers. Their multiple championships brought in funding that went to their brand new athletic facility. The highly coveted building allowed them to live above the peasant class of the faculty. You had even heard a nonsensical rumor that they even had a Starbucks and onsite masseuse.

When he handed it back you reached out, but Steve pulled the paper just out of reach. Hovering it over your head like a bully playing keep away. You huff and frown after two attempts. You were not a child and would not be treated as such. Pursing your lips you made a move to leave. You would just go through the admin office to get the information.

"Aw don't pout, but I must say you do look adorable when you do." He smiled down at you as he blocked your retreat. His wholesome grin did not match the darkness in his eyes. There was a disconnect somewhere. You felt like a mouse before a lion. Were the other teachers like this? You were so eager to get started working you did little research in the school that so swiftly hired you. "Here you go."

Snatching the paper away you say, "thank you." It sounded slightly annoyed, but you did your best to choke down the edge.

Unhooking the lip of your bag you placed it with the others as his shadow clouded you. Ignoring it you side step him.

"Yeah I remember. I used to see you at Camdien." Steve recalled, blocking you once more. You stopped just short of bumping into him as you closed your bag. "Cute little thing, roaming the halls." Steve informed you, stepping closer once more, making you take a step back. The alarm bells blared in your head at that comment.

"Boy wasn't I relieved I wasn't crossing the line with all the thoughts I had." He chuckled as your back hit the chalkboard. You had to strain your neck to look him in the eye this close.

The principal was making his rounds soon. He wouldn't try anything right?

"Mr. Rogers-"

"Coach" he interrupted. He didn't touch you but that fact gave you very little relief. You felt your nails dig into your palm as you gripped the thin strap of your bag. Your arm the only barrier between you two. "Just call me Coach."

"Rogers!" Your saving grace, Principal Barnes, exclaimed from the door. Steve's body blocked you from James. "There you are. Nice to see your getting to know your colleagues."

"Yeah, just sharing stories from Camdien" Steve stepped aside to greet Principal James. His hand landed on the top of your head, messing your hair as he patted you playfully like a dog. You swallowed the discomfort as he moved to talk to James. You gathered the rest of your things as they focused their attention on each other.

"Oh yeah I forgot you both came from their."

You took that opportunity to make your exit. Walking fast mumbling a 'goodnight,' you bolted toward the door. They replied back, but you ignored it, allowing their chatter to fade the further down the hall you got.

📚

The first week of school was hectic. Lost students, late students, little accidents here and there, it ran the gambit. But nothing worried you more than P.E. period.

Steve was listed as your classes gym teacher and made the drop-off a chore. It surprised you how increasingly inappropriate he was becoming. Always stretching out your name flirtatiously in front of the children causing them to taunt you with 'OOO's, and pepper you with questions about the nonexistent relationship until you departed.

They stayed in line as you approached the double doors that led to the gymnasium. He was there, dressed in his sweat pants, gym shirt and the whistle dangled from his lips.

As you ushered them inside he caught site of you as he wrangled another group and smirked. It was unnerving especially when your students egged him on by making kissy noises loudly when they noticed him too. On one occasion he sent a note with one of your students asking you out. You ignored it.

You should've reported him you know, but what would they say 'Oh he was just being friendly' or any number of things to justify his behavior. You'd been in enough situations to know without evidence that met their standards nothing would happen.

📚

In the teachers lounge Steve made his presence known. You stared at your custom coffee mug as it sat high on the edge of the third shelf. You had half a mind to take and break his, as it taunted you from the first. You were growing more and more tired of his antics. This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

Two arms planted themselves on either side of you as something rested on your head.

It was him you knew it. Who else would it be?

"Need some help little one?" He hummed.

"God damn it Steve get off me" you barked You elbowed him, but the mountain of a man didn't budge.

"No need to be nasty."

You felt him push you into the counter, crushing you against it as he reached for your cup on the high shelf.

"Here you go" he said placing it daintily in front of you.

Calm down don't blow your lid he is doing this to fuck with you.

"Shouldn't you be watching my class?" You asked as you waited for him to move out of your way.

"Student teacher got me covered. You remember what that's like? Give them the work while we teachers kick back and relax."

He backed away allowing you to get the coffee, but stayed glued to your side. You ignored him, pulling out your phone and flopped on the couch, waiting for gym time to end.

Steve of course sat next to you crowding you into the corner. He boldly placed a hand on your thigh, you brushed it off, cursing at him to 'go away'. If you got up he would only follow so you crossed your legs and leaned into the arm of the couch. Don't let him get to you.

Steve stretched out his arm on the back of the couch. Even sitting next to you he towered over you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you in snugly. Your head resting against his tone chest. "God your so adorable."

"Steve!" you almost shriek at him as his other hand slyly crept under your skirt. "Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with you."

You try to stand suddenly, but get jerked back down. Landing in the same awkward situation as before.

"Fuck you let me go" you hissed at him. He only chuckled as you tried to stop his hand from advancing up your skirt again. You became panicked the further he got.

Clamping your thighs tightly together as he wedged between your crossed legs. Your eyes shifted to the door before you, the couch sat across from the only entrance. If anyone came in they surely would be under the wrong assumptions.

His arm refused to budge as you attempted to pry him away. Steve was nothing but muscle, struggling was getting you no where, each shift pressed him hard against your sensitive area.

📚

"You know I've been nothing, but nice to you" Steve sounded disappointed.

"Stop please" you sounded panicked and desperate. Your nails dug into his arm as you tried to fight back an ache that taunted you as he teased.

"But you always give me attitude." He stated casually.

You slapped him. The sound loud in the empty room. Your eyes blurred with tears of frustration. Your hit did nothing, only leaving his cheek red, but from the smile on his face he liked it.

"And violent too. Hope you don't act that way around your class" he tsked while poking hard at the growing wet spot. You felt your spine curve and breath become heavier, your toes curled in your shoes as he increased his friction.

"Oh look at you. You like that don't you" he teased rubbing circles after noticing the tension in your legs relax. You cocked back to slap him again, but stopped when you felt his other hand at the back of your neck. It squeezed softly, but it was a warning nonetheless. You felt defeated. Not only was Steve bigger than you, he was stronger. Tears of frustration finally fell as you lowered your hand and let him do as he pleased.

"God your even cuter when you cry." He preened. "Tell you what. Since we don't have that much time....Kiss me and I will stop." You bristled as you felt him peel your panties to the side.

He didn't wait for your reply. Steve crashed his lips on to yours without warning. You flinched expecting pain, but it was soft. It was so tender that with anyone else they would given and close their eyes, accept it, but you couldn't.

"Stop..Steve.. Please" You panted over his lips, pushing at his chest as his fingers pushed into you. He didn't stop, the kiss only embolden him to go further. You whimpered and moaned as he took from you.

"Give me your panties" he asked pulling away from you, but his fingers still curled inside. "You promised you'd stop" you remind him, wiping away tears.

He wasn't going to relent, you could tell by the determination in his eyes. You felt exposed and embarrassed. Anyone could walk in at any moment and he knew it. He would probably get a slap on the wrist while you would need to find employment else where to escape the shame.

"I promise this time" he said lowly. "No tricks."

Swallowing your pride you lifted in your seat, he moved just enough to let the fabric pass. Rolling them down your knees quickly you hand them over. His hands slipped from you as you pass it. He held them up to the light and examined the wetness he created. Wiping away tears, you stood and bolted toward the door, but stopped when Steve whistled loudly.

"I think you forgot something."

You turned to find him pointing at your discarded mug.

"If you leave it, I leave this in it", he waved your shame in the air.

"Don't forget to wash it....don't want it to leave a stain" he ordered from the couch. You walked back on edge. Snatching the mug from the other side of the table. You rushed to the sink and rinsed your cup. More tears fell as you felt the wetness between your legs. The mirror mounted above the sink allowed you to examine yourself. Your mascara bled a bit and lipstick smeared, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a dab of a napkin.

You swore to never step foot in the lounge ever again. If you needed to eat you would do it in your car or at your desk. This was supposed to be a magical time for you, but with Steve it had turned into a nightmare.

You sniffed as you blinked away the tears, forcing yourself to stop crying. Gym time was almost over and you needed to pull yourself together and collect your class.

"You know how often I wonder about you" Steve said rising from the couch, you watched him carefully from the mirror. You fumbled your mug, the water splashing back at you.

"Steve you promised" you said meekly, utterly defeated. He stared at you through the mirror, you felt his eyes watch your discomfort as you picked up the cup.

"What would the parents think if they knew their kids teacher walks around the class with no panties on" he tutted. You hung your head low and noticed your panties balled up in his hand as he rested it on the counter.

"I also wonder" He said pressing you into the sink. You felt his resolve through his sweat pants. "Do you fit?"

Fit?

Then it became clear. You felt his cock against your backside. You tried frantically to flea, but Steve caught you by the neck.

"I'm willing to bet you can't even fit half of me inside" he whispered in your ear as he bent you over the sink, crushing. "If I'm wrong I will let you go." Your eyes rounded as he hauled up your skirt. You whimpered as the cool air of the staff room tickled your exposed rear.

Steve was really going to fuck you in the staff room. These walls were paper thin and he knew it. Your head swirled in panic as you pleaded with him to stop. He only chuckled and shimmied down his sweat pants as you swatted back at him.

He angled and aligned himself as you sobbed. The tip slipped through your wet thighs, finding the target of its need.

You choked down a guttural moan as he breathed out 'good girl'. He watched your face as every inch stretched through your insides.

"Its is too much" you gasped out, trembling from the pressure, dancing on your tip toes as you adjusted around him.

"Its all inside" he praised the accomplishment. Forcing you to look at the mirror. "You fit me so good...see."

The mirror reflected your assault to your horror. "All cute holding me inside, taking everything I got" he said while stretching you.

Shooting pains radiated from your core as sharp breaths escaped you.

"Look at you" he taunted "coming apart just for me.... "

You heard the door to the room open and close quickly as you panted wildly. Steve didn't pull out, unabashed, letting whomever take in his pale ass as he continued to stuff you.

You didn't know who saw you, you only hoped his massive body hid you and your shame.

📚

#dark steve x reader #dark steve x black reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve x black!reader #black writer

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allthingsarmin · 3 years

Note

nerd!armin x popular bimbo girl!reader?

the reader needs a tutor so she asks the smartest boy on campus and they have a “study session” in the library

Thank you for your request! I hope you like it! (ALSO: I’m so sorry this took so long to write omgmgg please forgive me) ~ I also would like to write a better version of this later. Though I'm in love with this prompt, I feel I didn't write the smut part that well.

Minors DNI! NSFW below the cut. Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader.

_________________________

At this point, Armin’s legs were burning, his heart racing and hands uncontrollably shaking, while you were practically out breath, your lungs tightening as you released yet another hearty laugh and not caring about the sweat running down your forehead. Neither you nor Armin expected to be running away from the librarian at 2am in the morning on the cold, campus sidewalk, your hair and makeup questionably messy and his shirt noticeably unbuttoned with hickeys staining his neck. However, the thrill of it all was something you didn’t know you both needed…

Earlier:

“Y/n?” Armin questioned, waving his sharpened pencil in front of your face. “Are you paying attention?” He awkwardly laughed as he scratched the back of his neck. You look up at him, battering your mascara-covered eyelashes at him. “Ahh… I have no idea what’s going on,” you sighed.

Armin wanted to bang his head against the library table. He knew it would be difficult teaching the ‘campus bimbo,’ but he didn’t know it would be this hard… yet there he was. 1am on a Thursday, the test tomorrow, and you still couldn’t grasp the basics of quadratic functions.

“Why don’t we take a break?” he suggested, loudly dropping his pencil on the table, leaning back in his chair, and adjusting his disheveled collar poking out of his blue sweater.

“Okay!” you giggled mindlessly, turning to face him in your chair as you twirled your hair in your fingers. “Even though I’ll probably fail the test tomorrow, thank you for teaching me!” you exclaimed, fiddling with your compact mirror and checking your dolled-up face.

Armin tensed up at your backhanded words. Pushing his hair back out of frustration, he cursed the fact he was wasting his time with such an ai-headed girl. “Y-you’re welcome,” he hastily said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Why didn’t he say no to your study session - if you could even call it a study session - ? Even though Armin was the school nerd, it’s no surprise to him that you came and asked him for help because, well… Everyone does that - always taking advantage of Armin - only talking to him because they want to use his neat, color-coded notes, only inviting him to parties so that he would later help them study.

You felt bad for Armin. Though you couldn’t deny he was way too uptight, everyone did make fun of him for every little thing; the way he dressed like a professor, how he was always so punctual, the way he was the first to raise his hand when the teacher asked a question, how he came extra prepared to class with extra pencils.

But being so close to him now, this was the first time you realized how handsome he actually was. His turquoise veins protruding from his soft, pale skin… his slender fingers gently holding his flashcards, his toned muscles peeking their way through his rolled up sleeves and making his clothes just a little tight, the sharpness of jawline contrasting with his kind, bright smile, the way his ocean blue eyes stared intently with such passion, and his thick, golden hair growing to his eyebrows, allowing his cute ears to shyly show themselves while his undercut beautifully shaped his face… he was beautiful.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you suddenly asked.

Armin was taken aback by this question. No one had ever asked him this nor did any one seem to have any interest in his personal life whatsoever.

“No,” he paused, “I don’t have time for that stuff…” he trailed off. Armin never had a girlfriend, and thinking about it now, he never really had any crushes. He was way too busy keeping up with his grades, extra curricular activities, and student council. It would be practically impossible for him to keep such close relations with his kind of responsibilities, but that doesn’t mean he’s not lonely… his arms aching for someone to hold, his heart cold due the absence of warmth of a person he loves.

Armin didn’t bother asking you if you had a boyfriend. You were the most popular person on campus, partying with countless dudes every weekend, hanging out with a large group of girls at the mall nearly every day, your phone buzzing so much during class that your professor told you multiple times to turn it off, and you were pretty - your hair was always done in a pretty style, your makeup (though a bit slutty) always brought out the best features of your face, your nails were always painted, your skin was smooth and silky, and your perfume scent was addicting. Not only that but your clothes showed off your body so well; your skirt that was just a little short allowed people to see your cute panties when you bend over to pick something up, and your shirt that was barely even a shirt was always cropped above your waist and showed off your bouncy, plush cleavage… so of course you had a boyfriend. But even though Armin was an incredibly focused nerd, he couldn’t deny that your sweet smell, tight clothes, and lipstick-covered lips made him lustful.

“Too busy for that stuff?! Aren’t you lonely? It’s like you don’t even know how to have fun,” you chuckle, jokingly hitting his shoulder which happened to be really muscular underneath his sweater.

“Haha yeah,” he said, seemingly uninterested in where you were going with this.

“If you’re so busy, does that mean you don’t have time to masturbate?” you giggled, covering your plump mouth with your hand and fluttering your eyelashes at him.

Armin became extremely flustered as tints of red washed over his body in waves.

“W-what?” he stuttered. “Why are you asking me these questions? We are supposed to be studying!” he quietly shrieked, looking away to break eye contact with you and playing with the watch on his wrist.

“Haha, I am just joking. You’re such a nerdy boy, just want to make you blush,” you sincerely smiled.

“W-well I am a young college student, so obviously I - I do that from time to time thanks to p-porn,” he stammered.

“Woah woah wait. Someone as uptight and rigid as you watches porn?” you harshly laughed, genuinely shocked. You scooted your chair closer to him and leaned into his neck, your hot breath caressing his skin and your hair resting upon his shoulder. “What kind of porn does this nerd like to watch?” you inquired, widely grinning as you saw how embarrassed Armin had become.

On the inside, Armin was fuming, mostling frightened that he had gotten himself into an embarrassing loop with no escape that would most likely be gossiped about amongst the popular students, but mostly angry that some dumb, slutty bitch was wanting to pry into his personal life, not even appreciating the fact that he spent countless hours in the library helping you study to no avail because you couldn’t pay attention if your life depended on it… that this same dumb, slutty bitch was just getting her fun from teasing some nerd who is taken advantage of and forgotten by everyone… angry that you - with your pretty makeup, plump lips, short skirt, and overflowing cleavage - weren’t paying the price for your teasing.

Suddenly, Armin sat up in his chair, his muscles tensing through his clothes, and an aggravated look forming across his face, wrinkling his brows. He quickly takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you close to his face, allowing you to see the different shades of blue in his eyes and his soft, blond eyelashes. His innocent, geeky look is nowhere to be found on his face as he intensely stares into your eyes.

“It just so happens that this nerd likes to watch useless, empty-headed bimbos like you get their pussies abused,” he said, dominance seething from his teeth as his mint breath hits your face. Before you even have time to think, Armin unbuttons his slacks and practically forces your mouth on his hard, pretty cock.

Watching you gag and choke on his cock with saliva dribbling down your chin made him laugh. “You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, slut, we’re in a library remember?” he coos. He abruptly pulls you off his cock, taking in the sight of his lipstick-stained tip and the mascara tears streaming down your face. His treatment was so harsh and so sudden, making you miss the ‘nicer’ and ‘quieter’ Armin, but you couldn’t deny his sudden dominance made your aching cunt flood with arousal.

Before doing anything else, Armin scans the library, making sure no one is around. Grabbing your wrist, he forces you to sit on his lap, facing him on top of the library chair. Everything happened so quickly, barely even leaving you time to think, barely leaving you time to think that Armin was using your body to relieve his anger and frustration, not leaving you time to realize how sopping wet your needy cunt actually was.

Sitting atop his lap, he spreads your plush, soft thighs, exposing the fact that you didn’t wear any panties to this study session, causing Armin’s eyes to widen.

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised that a whore like you wouldn’t wear anything underneath your short skirt to our little ‘play date,’” he snickers. He leans close to your ear, softly biting your neck. “It’s almost like you were asking to be fucked by me.”

You don’t know what to say. Your mind is so empty, fuzzy, and shocked that the only thing you can do is comply when he demands that you ride his cock. Armin lets out a low groan from the bottom of his throat as your tight, warm pussy encloses his thick cock. You let a pathetic whimper as he begins to thrust up into you, and Armin gives you a glare, reaching up and tightening his hands around your throat. “Remember, you have to be quiet, or are you too dumb to remember that?” he sinisterly smiles.

Armin begins to harshly thrust into you as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto dear life as he deeply penetrates your spongy, sensitive walls. He slithers his slender hands into your shirt and starts toying with your nipples and pinching them when you’re being too loud.

Groping your ass, he whispers in your ear, “you know, I don’t even know why you’re in college… you’re so dumb. Why don’t you just drop out and be my little slut for when I come back after class, huh?” You sink your head into the crook of his neck, embarrassment coming over you at the same time as pleasure fills your walls when he tells you those mean words.

He grabs your hair, forcing you to look at him. Your hair is a tangled mess, your makeup completely smeared, and your eyebrows furrowed as your innocent-looking eyes beg for some type of release.

“F-fuck, you look so dirty,” he groans, leaning his head back.

“And you look like two students who are going to be in so much trouble…”

Both of you tense up and look behind you to find the librarian staring daggers into your souls.

Immediately, you hop off of Armin’s dick, gathering your things as he struggles to pull up his pants. Both of you at an ungodly speed bolt out of the library doors. Yeah, getting potentially banned from the library would suck, but maybe it was something you both needed. Armin needed to learn to loosen up, have some fun, and you needed to learn to take things seriously and maybe just put in a little more effort.

“Ya’know, it’s kind of late. We can go back to my dorm, and I can help you study for maybe another half hour… if you want,” Armin shyly asks as you both continue running down the sidewalk.

“What about the other half hour?” you questioned.

Armin’s face grows red. “We can finish… chemistry…”

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #aot x reader #aot smut

547 notes · View notes

hclyfvckcd · 11 months

Text

— ✿ tag dump. › JILLIAN NAKAMURA.

— ✿ i'll bring you to life i'm a holy fuck. › main verse.

— ✿ she’s dropping out of school ‘cause she don’t need the grades the colors in her hair don’t seem to fade. › high school verse.

— ✿ and all you wanted was somebody who cared. › yugioh gx verse.

— ✿ you say i'm complicated that i must be out my mind. › yugioh 5ds verse.

— ✿ i’m your biggest fan i’ll follow you until you love me. › rockstar verse.

— ✿ step right up to watch the freak go crazy. › naruto verse.

— ✿ she's a novice a beginner i'm the sexorcist the sinner. › noragami verse.

— ✿ what's wrong with being confident. › ohshc verse.

— ✿ oh please let me warn them don't you come here don't bring anyone here. › ancient egypt verse.

— ✿ jillian nakamura. › in character.

— ✿ came from the trauma stayed for the drama. › aesthetics.

— ✿ i can guide you i can teach you honey this is just a preview. › headcanons.

— ✿ try to be sexy but don't be too sexual. › appearance.

#— ✿ tag dump.#— ✿ jillian nakamura. › in character.#— ✿ came from the trauma stayed for the drama. › aesthetics.#— ✿ i can guide you i can teach you honey this is just a preview. › headcanons.#— ✿ try to be sexy but don't be too sexual. › appearance.#— ✿ i'll bring you to life i'm a holy fuck. › main verse.#— ✿ she’s dropping out of school ‘cause she don’t need the grades the colors in her hair don’t seem to fade. › high school verse.#— ✿ and all you wanted was somebody who cared. › yugioh gx verse.#— ✿ you say i'm complicated that i must be out my mind. › yugioh 5ds verse.#— ✿ i’m your biggest fan i’ll follow you until you love me. › rockstar verse.#— ✿ step right up to watch the freak go crazy. › naruto verse.#— ✿ she's a novice a beginner i'm the sexorcist the sinner. › noragami verse.#— ✿ what's wrong with being confident. › ohshc verse.#— ✿ oh please let me warn them don't you come here don't bring anyone here. › ancient egypt verse.

0 notes

jeongvision · 3 years

Note

🗣 TEACHER!AU WITH JOHNNY

PART TWO! LET’S GET IT!

pairing. history teacher! seo johnny ✗ english teacher! fem! reader (ft. english teacher! mark lee)

genre. fluff, slight humor, high school teacher au, non idol au

warnings. some cursing and super soft hours after this huhu <3 and not proofread but we can discuss that later

author’s note. this is an continuation to this blurb! this could be read as a standalone but regardless i hope this brought a smile to your face bc it certainly did for me <3

You should’ve seen it coming. Damn it, it was right in front of you all along, so why didn’t you see it in the first place?

You and your students have been grinding nonstop for the past couple weeks to prep them for the AP English IV exam. There was a time where you requested two days off from work for emergency purposes (thankfully it was nothing too major) leaving you to ask your coworker- Mark, another teacher in your department -to help fill in your students on materials needed for the exam.

Everything was perfectly fine when you came back, your coworker going beyond your expectations in taking care of your students. However, one thing you failed to take notice of is the recent changes the college board made in their AP exams, including the course you teach. After reviewing some of the revisions they made, you felt your heart drop.

They’ve added three additional sections to the exam, meaning an additional two weeks is needed to cover the materials for your students to grasp some sort of mastery on those concepts.

You have four weeks left until the exam, and you’re already compacted those remaining weeks with other necessary materials for the exam.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured under your breath.

Running your hand through your hair, you let out a tired sigh. It’s already bad enough that you have to work overtime in making revisions to your lesson plans. However, it’s worse to see the crestfallen looks on your students’ faces when you dropped the news on them. They’re already tired enough from dealing with other classes and extracurricular activities. On top of that, you know most of them are stressing about their acceptance letters from their colleges.

You dropped the pen in your hand and rubbed both of your eyelids. Relax, y/n you told yourself. Don’t worry, you can do this. You heard the door behind you open, meaning someone walked inside the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up- Woah, woah, WOAH! What do we have here?” the person exclaimed. You let out a chortle. You could distinctively point that voice out from anywhere, and you’re sure as hell that the state of your workspace is nothing short of hell. Taking your hands away from your face, you crossed your arms and leaned back a little in your seat to look up at the latter.

“Well, hello to you too, Mark,” you chuckled. You both gave each a fist bump before he sits down in the empty chair beside you.

“What the hell happened here?” He grabs some of the documents splayed out before you, eyes scanning through the materials that you’ve scribbled on in the past hour. “Wait, what? They added new things to the AP exam?”

You sighed and nodded dejectedly. “Yep. And somehow, I gotta squeeze all those materials into my lesson plans before they take it next month.” You rested your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. “At this point, I just want to light myself on fire and call it a day.”

Mark lets out a cackle besides you, prompting you to smile. You’ll never mention it to him, but his laughs and smiles are always infectious. It’s what makes him so well-known and loved in the English department in the first place, both faculties and students.

“Please don’t do that. We love you too much to let you do that to yourself,” he responded.

Sitting back up in your seat, you take a glance at the clock. Just four minutes before the section ends and you have to go back to teaching your classes again. You heard your coworker clear his throat, bringing you to face him.

“Do you need help with any of this?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Mark. I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to bother you with my workload.”

“No, really. It’s fine, y/n. I only teach honors and they’re all pretty ahead in their assignments, so I have some free time if you’d like.”

Just like that, you swear you could see a halo shining above his figure, your world much brighter and clearer than it was this morning. “Oh my god, yes please.” You shifted through your papers, searching the remnants of the piles before handing it over to him. “Can you please go through these and grade them for me? Here are the answer keys for them.” After debriefing him for that stack of papers, you gave him another one. “And for these, can you make some copies for me? I need them tonight so I can plan for tomorrow’s class.”

He listened attentively to your commands, taking a mental note and nodding each instruction given to him. “Okay, got it, y/n. I’ll get these done and hand them over by the end of the day.”

You’re gawking at him, surprised that your coworker is willing to lend you a helping hand. You could honestly cry out tears of joy right now, but timing refuses to let you do so as the bell rings, marking the end of a period. You both stood up in your seats and grabbed the papers on the table into a neat pile. You let out a content sigh as you both walked out the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you so much, Mark. You’re the best,” you exhaled. Outside your classroom, you already see some students entering inside as you left it unlocked, free for them or your coworkers to enter as they pleased. You both stood next to its entrance before he shrugs his shoulders at you.

“Hey, I mean it’s what I do best, right? Being the best.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove, earning a laugh from him. Saying goodbyes to one another, you walked inside your classroom. You nodded to the students present. “Afternoon, class,” you greeted.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n!”

“Miss Y/n, there’s a bouquet of flowers on your desk,” one of your students called out. You raised an eyebrow. Flowers? Looking over to your desk, your student was certainly not lying and neither are your eyes. Perched in the middle of your desk lies a vase filled with varying colors of tulips. Petals are in full bloom and the stems are clipped uniformly. You walked over and saw a notecard attached to one of the flowers.

“Who is it from, Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah! Who got you flowers?”

You looked up and realized more of your students are present, capacity almost at its max. Class was starting soon so more and more are rushing in to see the surprise gift settled on your desk.

“Is it Mr. Kim in the science department? I saw you two walking together in the hallways last week.”

That assumption piqued your interest. “Wait, Mr. Kim? The physics teacher?” you asked. The student, Krystal, nodded, causing you to huff incredulously. “Krystal, please. We’re merely just friends.”

Another student chimes in. “Friends don’t lock arms with each other at work.”

“Jongin, please. Your last girlfriend only stayed with you for a month and she started dating an upperclassman a week later.”

“Hey—”

“Guys, calm down,” you interjected. “As much as I love you crazy bunch, I am still your teacher. Therefore, what occurs in my personal life stays private, and how much I am willing to share with you all lies in my discretion.” But unbeknownst to you, one of your students sneaks behind you to get a glance of the card, discreetly reading the contents:

‘The best deserves nothing less than the best.

Yours truly.’

The student, Luna, almost lets out a squeal. “Guys! Guys!” You jumped in shock, startled by her sudden presence and her high-pitched voice. “I think it’s Mr. Lee! The other English teacher!”

All attention is now on her, excitement filled in the air.

“Mr. Lee? The one that teaches honors?”

“The one with boba eyes?”

“The one that laughs at everything?”

Luna nods to each question, visibly thrilled with the subtle jump in her steps as she walked towards her classmates. “Yes! I heard Miss y/n calling him the best earlier and Mr. Lee joked about being the best! And in the card, it said ‘the best deserves nothing less than the best’.” The bell rang, marking the beginning of the period, but that didn’t stop your students from chattering with happiness, faces completely wiped from fatigue and stress of the upcoming exams. Some students entered your classroom late to the discussion, prompting other students to fill them in only to also be electrified by the ‘news’.

You run a hand through your hair again and sighed. Not this again, you thought to yourself. But just before you could jump in to stop all this chaos, you heard someone knock on your open door, diverting your attention and your class’ to the intruder.

“Well, good afternoon, class,” the person chuckled. “Why’s it so boisterous here? Did I miss a party or something?”

Of course, what better person to appear now of all times? It was none other than the infamous history teacher, Johnny Seo. You rolled your eyes before laughing. Coincidence, my ass.

“Mr. Seo! Someone gave Miss Y/n a bouquet of tulips! She has a secret admirer!” Luna stated.

He raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Oh, does she now?” He looks back at you with a grin. “Did Miss Y/n find out who this secret admirer is?”

“We think it’s Mr. Lee from honors English.”

“And what makes you think so?”

“Because we heard her call him the best earlier before class started, and the notecard called her the best.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Jongin nodded.

All of the students followed along in unison, profoundly proud of their assumptions that left you shaking your head in disbelief. Surely, you had a smile on your face, but it’s surprising to know how your students are able to make such large assumptions based on groundless evidence. You sat down in your chair and turned on your computer, getting your lesson plan ready for the period as your students entertained themselves with Mr. Seo.

Johnny takes it all in, nodding to all of them before walking up behind your desk. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you don’t pester too much to Miss y/n about it. You know how much she likes to keep her life private.” While you were browsing through your saved files and pulling up powerpoints, you felt the latter tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right, Mrs. Seo?”

And just like that, your hands stilled. Wait, did he just—

“Hold up..”

“What?”

“Did you just—”

“Mrs. Seo?”

“Huh?”

You squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh my god, here we go again—

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED??”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

#johnny #nct johnny #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #johnny x reader #johnny x oc #johnny fluff #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny seo #johnny angst

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otomegema · 3 years

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title: Convergence Theory pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don't even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: Mature for now, explicit later most likely because WHY NOT tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

August, 2005.

That summer had been oppressively warm, a layer of heat trapped beneath a layer of moisture that made even the light fabric of your yukata stick to your sides. It was the kind of weather that made your body beg for relief, to lay shivering and sweltering under the barest breath of cool air.

Your mother had opened the outside screens in the room, letting you sit on the porch overlooking the small garden at the center of the expansive, traditional home. The view was lovely, overlooking a manicured garden, a small koi pond bubbling pleasantly even as the night air chirped with the sounds of insects.

The main house was equipped with air conditioners in some of the rooms— just like your parent’s own home, only a short distance away, but somehow so far removed from the atmosphere of this place it felt miles away. Centuries. The clock on the wall seemed suspended in time, halted too by the weight that fell over this place.

There was nothing to be done. When the head of the Gojo family called, even the smallest vine, hanging from the tiniest branch, curled in. Your great grandmother had bore the Gojo name before she married, a detail of minor significance that had not effected your own family until your birth. You had often heard your parents discussing the main family in hushed voices when they thought you were not listening. First with excitement and eagerness and then with worry.

There had been a phone call, an order disguised as invitation.

Gojo Satoru, heir to the name, barer of the Six Eyes, was turning sixteen in December, a scant four months away.

Six Eyes. Two words that managed to leave the bitterest taste of bile in your throat.

It had been thought the next Six Eyes would be born in your generation, your parents hopeful at one point that you were the one so blessed. A hundred years of waiting ended by the birth of another child, honored above all other sorcerers. Your had been born with the Limitless, that much was certain and an extra unnaturally keen ability of foresight… the signs were there. The possibility that the the massive potential of the Limitless was within your grasp if you could only prove to possess the fabled Six Eyes…

You were hailed for a short time as possibly a true child of the Gojo blood, a blessing. A boon. And then not even a short year later that boy was tested. No two Six Eyes could exist and it was him, not you, who was truly blessed.

You ran your hands up the back of your neck, dislodging the hair stuck your heated skin.

And worse yet, now you would suffer the indignity of being paraded around with every other eligible girl with a single drop of Gojo blood diluted enough to be proper for marriage.

Gojo Satoru needed a betrothed and only the best would do, naturally.

You were to be polite, courteous and docile. Laugh at his jokes, bat your eyes. Play the role of the pursued for the pursuer.

Did you even want to be selected? Once hailed as the promised child, now degraded to probable broodmare ?

You sucked your teeth, holding back a feral shriek somewhere deep in your throat. There was a knock on the wooden frame of the room, lazy and slow. The door slid open before your mother could get you to return inside to the low tables and too hot tea laid out.

You were all but deaf to the sounds of stilted, forced polite conversation, but could not ignore the sudden presence of a young man who came to sit down hard at your side.

Gojo Satoru was not an unattractive young man. He had the signature Gojo coloring, his eyelashes even as pale as driven snow. You yourself had even inherited two streaks of white in your hair, framed near your face and standing in contrast against the rest.

But that handsomeness was hard to enjoy when his expression was one of such utter indifference. He did not even bother to remove the dark glasses that shaded over his eyes, but you hardly were offended. It would have been all the worse to have to look at the very thing you coveted most in this world. Taunting you. Dismissing you.

How many girls had he been forced to sit with today? Judging by his bored expression, too many.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He said, voice amused, yet slightly condescending. Behind you both, his parents spoke with your own, but that too was part of the charade. All eyes were on you. All ears tuned to your words.

“You know my name.” You said with a thinly veiled sigh. His attention shifted just a fraction and you noticed with an indignant flush he was wearing his school uniform. Shirt untucked, jacket unbuttoned. You had been forced to spend hours getting ready for this meet-up.

He tilted down his glasses to give you a halfway appraising look and you turned away.

“Goin’ for the aloof angle then? Some other girls tried it too. As if you pretend hard enough that you aren’t interested somehow I will be.”

How fucking arrogant.

Your fists clenched in your lap.

“It won’t work.”

“I’m not working any ‘angle’.” You grumbled, “I was told to be here so I’m here. That’s all.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” You spat back, turning to shoot him a piercing glare.

There was silence then, even the voices behind you seeming to falter and lower as if worried they were missing out on some secret hushed conversation.

“Ohhh, wait. I remember now! I do know your name.” Gojo continued, taking off his sunglasses and wiping off some smudge or dust from the lens, “Aren’t you that girl they thought was gonna have the Six Eyes in her?”

Your fist clenched tighter.

“I get it now. Sour grapes and all. Tell ya what…” he spoke softer and leaned in until you felt his breath against your ear, “If you ask me really nicely, for one night, you still could."

The only sound that came after that was the harsh strike of skin against skin. The contact of your palm connecting to his cheek stunned not just the adults inside, but you.

No self respecting sorcerer with the Limitless ability would have been taken by surprise and yet here you sat, having successfully struck the heir to the Gojo name right across his smug face.

You drew your hand back. His pale cheek had turned a throbbing red so quickly, his smirk raised as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and revealed how his blue eyes danced with open amusement.

***

September, 2017.

The uproar that followed that moment twelve years ago had been profound. Your parents had spent the remainder of the visit profusely apologizing and demanding explanations… and the entire time Gojo had stared only at you. Blue eyes wide and engulfing, a smirk etched in the corner of his mouth even as he got up and strode out without another word.

You remembered he had whistled as he went. As if it were all according to plan.

No betrothal was agreed to that night nor any night since. You were never summoned to the main house again.

It had been the most freeing moment of your young life, opening the world from the one pinpointed hope you’d be born with the Six Eyes or wed to the one who had it into a kaleidoscope of possibility.

You attended Jujutsu Tech’s Kyoto branch, keeping far out of the way of the rising star of the Gojo clan.

Well.

Sorta.

So the problem with having an inherited technique that allowed you to “see” curses and cursed energy users from great distances? Gojo Satoru. The man was such an expansive supernova of energy that when you opened your mind and utilized your gift of telemetry to try and pinpoint targets you had to navigate around his massive, dominating aura.

It was like counting stars against a sunlit sky. The ability, that should have been astronomically useful, rendered inert if Gojo Satoru was on the field.

You tried not to have your own missions line up with his. Which meant keeping tabs on him. Which meant having to live with this gnat, this buzzing fly of cursed bullshit constantly humming in the background when you used your gifts.

You wished everyday you had swatted him harder.

Missions in Tokyo were the worst, but you accepted them without complaint. The fact you’d even managed to rise to second grade despite your public humiliation of the main family’s golden child was a miracle in itself and not one you would squander.

The task was simply. There was a cursed entity that was utilizing the signal within electric devices of all things to move from device to device, rapid as an electrical pulse. It had already killed five non-sorcerers in surge related house-fires in two days. The risk of it causing a massive firestorm in any district rising.

The air had begun to cool in Tokyo, the heat of the summer giving way to fall. You sat on a bench, wireless com already clipped to your ear, the only sound so far the faint static of the open radio and the sound of your breath. The air had that crispness already, the bare cusp of autumn. You steadied your thoughts and began to shut down your senses.

The cursed energy of the young sorcerer students around you began to glow in your mind’s eye, the rest of the world fading into shades of imperceptible grey. Blurring. Distorting.

If you had the Six Eyes, you would be able to see it all. But instead, you blinded yourself to everything but the cursed when you utilized your skill.

You shut your eyes and with a soft breath you whispered, “Cursed technique— Limitless Telemetry: Grey.”

The city revealed itself to your five senses like a massive overflowing of information. Had you not taken the time to adjust, quickly shutting down your hearing, sight, taste, smell and touch in order to compensate, the mental load would have stunned you into a comatose state for several hours. Another thing a Six Eyes user would never need to do. You mentally chastised yourself for allowing the distraction of a deprecating thought, and focused instead upon your sixth sense. The one that tracked beyond the physical.

You were effectively helpless in this state, but within your mind you breezed through the city like a thumb pressed over the pages of a book. Flipping at your leisure as you focused in upon the fastest moving pulse of cursed energy.

In your “peripheral vision” or what acted like a sort of peripheral vision, you could sense the constant presence of Gojo. It was far away, diluted. You wondered if perhaps he was overseas for the barest moment until your senses snapped together and fell upon your target.

You spoke. Your words falling on your own deaf ears as you gave the location into the com. You perceived the movement of the three students. Good kids, fast learners. One boy was even a scion of another great house and the one girl among them possessed a cursed technique of extreme value. The other boy, the pink haired one, you had yet to understand, but his cursed energy output was impressive.

The entity moved. You adjusted, giving new instructions. The curse had not yet caught on to the fact it was being tracked, a fact you would use to your advantage as long as possible. If the curse sensed you, it could easily close the distance and attempt to seek you out… which was why sitting in a park, far from any electrical devices other than your battery powered radio was the safest place you could be.

And if worse came to worse, at least it would be drawn out in the open.

The entity jumped again, following the planned route the three had decided upon to box it further and further into a section of the city that they had already prepared to shut down. Without power, the curse would have to break free of its hiding place within the electric current.

How did a curse even get into the power grid? Too many lost football games on TV? You chuckled a bit to yourself without thinking, providing the newest coordinates as you watched, like an omnipresent spectator as the energies of the curse and the students moved.

This is why I score the highest at Pac-Man…

Everything was going according to plan. You had begun to even let your thoughts wonder, your focus softening just the barest fraction as the students rounded the final corner and blocked the curse into the chosen spot.

And now here comes the switch…

You braced for the surge of cursed energy you expected to feel from it’s ejection…but the power stayed on. You had to stifle the sensation of panic that sparked through your heart, your cursed energy rising a fraction.

And there it was. You felt the shift, the sudden adjusting of the entity. The students flared bright, attacking to try and ward off its escape, but without the power shut off they were waiting for, the curse easily vanished, pulsing through the city and heading now straight ahead… to you.

It’s fine. Fine. Nothing electric by me, so no fast travel.

It couldn’t pass through the coms. It would need to branch off into another grounded circuit and then physically come out to face you in the empty park.

You could hold unto the technique a little longer. Guide the students a little longer. You snapped information in quick short terms. Watching the cursed energy approach closer and closer until it reached the last building at the far end of the park.

And then, inexplicably, it jumped again.

The force in which you were propelled did not immediately register to your mind as your senses flickered and began to come back on line one by one.

The first was touch.

And thus pain.

Your muscles contracted, shot full with an electrical pulse. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the strike coming indirectly as if someone had forced the curse away. Something blinding and bright exploding over the far-reaching vision of your Limitless technique before your ability snapped off like a cut thread.

Your hearing came back first from sheer force of will. Sight returning in blurry, slowly filling shapes. You forced yourself up from the ground, feeling scrapes biting along your palms.

“You fucking dick.” You managed to hiss, your vision returning just in time to witness the exorcism of the curse by none other than Gojo Satoru.

***

“You used me as bait!”

Your voice reverberated off the hallway walls, your mild injuries tended to but your grievances still in desperate need of airing.

You were only comforted by the fact his students had not been involved in the deception, having also thought Gojo was away while they worked under her guidance in the meanwhile. You were no teacher, but you had taken enough students through missions to be adequate at “babysitting”.

Gojo grinned easily, eyes hidden behind his blind fold as he ran a hand up his neck, feigning a bashfulness you knew had not an ounce of genuineness to it.

The bastard had quietly set up a god damn daisy chain of extension cables into the park, ending plugged into a cheap TV set… right next to you. And he’d done it only after you’d entered your Limitless, taking advantage of your lack of senses to literally bait you like a god damn fish hook and then swoop in to destroy the curse.

His students had been a distraction. A means to force the curse into seeking you out and getting into the open where it could not easily run again. It was the most convoluted, infuriatingly, ridiculous brilliant bullshit you had heard in a long while.

“Pretty clever, yeah? I’ve been practicing my multi-layer tactics.”

“That wasn’t a tactic, it was a gamble and a shitty one at that!”

“Yeah, yeah, but did you die?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side. His voice was tinged with amusement and you wondered for a moment if he even remembered you and this was some elaborate “gotcha” twelve years in the making… or if this kind of backhanded backstabbing was common place for him.

“It was interesting to see your technique in action. I could probably give you some tips on how to make it more effective, but they’d be pretty useless to— well. You. So I figure I’ll just make the tweaks and practice it myself!”

You stayed silent.

“What did ya call it? Limitless Telemetry?”

You turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Whoa— hold on.”

Your exit was cut off, the grinning face you wanted nothing more than to connect your fist into coming back into view.

“I’m kidding. Don’t run off and cry now, we got some other business I wanna discuss.”

“If you’re planning on pitching another mission to me, I pass.”

“Nope. Well— yes. But not like this one.”

You sighed, side stepped, and continued around him again.

“I’ll buy you lunch!”

You stopped.

“And maybe even some kakigōriiiiiiii—“ he continued, his voice lifting to a sing-song tone as he stretched out the word. Your stomach twisted and grumbled in response. Using your Limitless always took so much out of you… a side effect you wondered if he experienced to.

You turned to look back at the man who hadn’t so much as glanced your way in years and wondered again if he was so stupid he didn’t remember who you were or if he was hatching some new plot.

He smiled in what you assumed he thought was a disarming and charming way.

“Fine.”

***

You had settled for a sweet plum flavor, dipping your small wooden spoon into the shaved ice and enjoying the way it melted across your tongue. Flavors always felt more pronounced after you used your Limitless, smells more intense. The sights sharper. It was probably just a placebo effect from being without them, even for a short amount of time, but regardless you enjoyed the sweet flavor and the fruity smell of the different syrups… most of which were coming from Gojo’s own cup.

He had gotten every flavor. The shaved ice in his cup a rainbow of color and tastes as he scooped several together at a time.

The lunch he promised had yet to come, but the treat was enough for now as the sugar helped give a little more pep to your body and your mood. The amount of calories you expended using your gifts was another thing entirely.

The two of you walked a ways in silence, giving you time to observe him for the first time in over a decade.

He had changed, that much you could tell. There was something less harsh in his general demeanor and he had grown considerably since he was fifteen. The boyishness of his face had sharpened, the man overtaking his features. He was broader, less lanky than his teenage self and while his easygoing and devil-may-care attitude was still present, there was something less— edged about it. Less angry.

“Your hair is shorter now,” Gojo said suddenly, “And your chest is bigger.”

You immediately frowned. A look of open disgust flashing over your face. Gojo laughed.

“Thought I forgot about ya, didn’t you?” He slid a thumb over his cheek, the gesture making you flush at the memory of what it felt like to slap the smirk off his face.

“Honestly? Yes.” you answered shortly, taking another bite of your ice.

“Nah. I remember, just figured there was no point in makin’ nice. You seem to be doing fine on your own these days. Second grade, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“As short worded as ever.”

He strode off, forcing you to match his pace. He found a park bench and sat down, sprawling out lazily. You sat next to him at his insistence, knocking your knee into his own until he closed his thighs a bit more with a chuckle.

“Thought you’d be a first grade by now.”

“I have not been recommended.”

He snorted, “Bet you know why.”

You clenched your teeth, holding back a sharp word and an even sharper desire to toss your kakigōri right in his face. Arrogant as ever. Some things, you guessed, did not get better with age.

“The great and fabled Six Eyes holding a grudge over a love tap? How trite.” you said, trying to keep your words indifferent.

“Is that what it was? I had a bruise ya know.”

“You could have stopped my hand before it ever even touched you. You wanted me to slap you so you could get out of having to do anymore meetings.”

His laugh was all the confirmation you needed.

“Is that what you’ve thought all this time?”

“It’s what I know.”

Gojo turned his attention back to his shaved ice, the two of you sitting in silence long enough for the weight of it to become uncomfortable for you. Finally you shifted and scrapped your spoon down the ice, leaving trails of melting syrup.

“What is it that you want?” Because that was what this was about wasn’t it? He wanted something. The main family never disdained to speak to the lower members without a need and Gojo Satoru was not about to be the exception.

“I’m going to recommend you for first-grade sorcerer status.”

You scrapped your spoon through so harshly a chunk of colored ice fumbled down the side of the paper cup and down your hand. You dodged just in time to avoid it landing with a wet smack on your pants.

You gaped openly at him, but Gojo kept his attention fixed on his ice, happily stirring it up into a soupy, syrupy mess.

“… and yet again I ask, what is that you want?”

Gojo leaned back, tilting his face towards you with an easy grin. You wondered if he saw the world the way you did with your Limitless with his eyes shaded. Seeing only the impressions of energy and sensation. Could he see your expression? The confusion in the downturn of your mouth or the suspicion in the narrowness of your eyes?

“Nothing too crazy! Just need a fiancée.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

***

You waited outside the small convenience store across the street, feeling your cheeks beginning to lessen in redness from both anger and embarrassment at your sudden outburst.

When Gojo returned from inside, his hair was still wet… and there was still some redness from the syrup stuck to the strands. You hadn’t been able to control the impulse to throw your kakigōri at him, the breaking of your composure having flowed directly down your arm. It could have been worse, you supposed. You could have punched him.

He had needed to rinse off his blindfold, the fabric now folded and tucked into his back pocket. He had replaced it with the dark glasses you recognized from his youth, giving you a glimpse of the bright blueness of his eyes every once and awhile.

Gojo sighed and tossed a damp paper towel into a bin and turned to you expectantly. You gingerly handed him back his own dessert, having minded it for him while he went into the men’s room to clean up. It was practically soup now and you winced when he lifted it to his lips and drank it.

“As I was saying—“ he began with a smack of his lips.

“No—”

“—it’s a pretend engagement.”

Your mouth hung open, half ready to utter another refusal, which you swallowed back in as he waited expectantly for you to cease interrupting him.

“You let me take you on a few dates, we put on a show of my courting a potential betrothed and in exchange I green light your promotion.”

You narrowed your eyes, biting the corner of your lip into your mouth in obvious consideration.

“For how long?”

Your directness didn’t seem to offend him. Quite the opposite actually. Every time you curtly dropped a single or few word sentence he seemed to only smile brighter.

Gojo shrugged, “A few months. Maybe more. Until I figure out a permanent solution.”

“Your parents want you to get married?”

“The whole clan wants me to get married, sweetheart. I am the strongest.”

And now came the obvious question.

“Why me?”

Gojo shrugged, “You were one of their first picks to start with, so they’ll approve. And there isn’t a risk of you falling for me…”

His lips upturned into a sly grin, “… too quickly.”

You scoffed.

“Family will back off. I get a bit of peace until I have to kick you to the curb, and you get to be a first-class sorcerer. Everyone wins.”

“I’m not going to fall for you.”

Gojo gave a sad little nod, like he was agreeing with a deluded person in order to keep them calm and reasonable.

Granted, you did just effectively hurl a slushy at him a few minutes prior.

“This seems a bit extreme, even for you. Why do you think I’d even say yes? You know exactly why you got slapped. Can I expect that same level of charm from our future ‘dates’?” you asked, kicking yourself for having implied in your words you knew him well enough to even know what was extreme for him. The comment did not go unnoticed, even with his half expression hidden you could tell his interest was piqued. The last thing you wanted to do was to explain to this insufferable man how his very presence was as constant as the sun. Always nagging in the back of your mind and in your abilities.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“That was awhile ago. Most girls find me pretty charming these days. As to why you’d say yes— given it is probably your best chance at getting to first grade sorcerer status, I can’t think of a reason you wouldn’t.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Fifteen year old you would be outraged, furious. She would not have considered this offer for a second. She would have stamped her foot and told him exactly where he could stick his offer.

But twenty-eight year old you had learned that very often principles were made to be damned.

“And the fact I can tell you are just dying to say yes.”

There was that arrogance again.

“You still buying me lunch?” you countered and the smile he gave you was a bit different than the ones before.

“Wow. No one will even question how I could have been charmed by such a talented freeloader.”

“I am exceedingly charming.”

“And what an arm. You play softball or you just start a lot of food fights as a kid?”

“I want sushi.” You said, the finality of your voice inarguable. You thought he might have rolled his eyes, but nevertheless you got your lunch and even managed to bargain a single day to think about the offer.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x you #IDK WHAT I AM DOING LOL #YOLO

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hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years

Text

Pink is the Color of Love (G.W.)

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Cursing

To say that your week had been bad would be an understatement. On Monday you had woken up too late to go to the Great Hall for breakfast which left you in an uncharacteristically bad mood. A bad mood that landed you in a two-hour detention with Snape, causing you to miss a quidditch practice at the behest of your captain. On Tuesday you’d left your charms essay on the couch in your common room, an excuse Flitwick didn’t believe. On Wednesday you’d snapped at a poor first year who had run into you in the halls, a moment that had been witnessed by none other than Professor Snape, a man you swore had it out for you. That little incident had cost Hufflepuff five points, which only further sullied your week. And on Thursday, a thread had begun to run on your uniform. And when you attempted to pull it off, nearly half of your sweater unraveled. So when you awoke on Friday morning, you prayed that the final day of the school week would go by uneventfully. So when the sun filtered its way through the curtains and forced your eyes open, you let yourself hope that today would be a good day.

And then you looked into the mirror.

You hear your shriek escape you before you even realize that you’re screaming. You furiously rub at your skin to no avail, hoping that you could somehow fix the predicament that you found yourself in.

“(Y/n) what’s the matter- oh my Godric,” your roommate says, sidling up beside you. You turn to look at her, angry hot tears forming in your eyes.

“So it’s that bad huh,” you ask sarcastically, your voice breaking partway through the sentence.

“(Y/n)... You’re pink,” she says, clearly at a loss for words. You chuckle darkly.

“Wow thank you, Michelle, I didn’t even notice,” you bite back. Michelle flinches at your words. You turn back to look into the mirror, assessing the damage that has been done. Michelle was right, you were pink. A very hot pink to be exact. Every inch of your skin had been replaced with the flaming hot color. You found yourself furiously rubbing against your skin once again, somehow deluding yourself into believing that it would somehow get rid of the pink. After a few moments of this, you turn back to Michelle, who is looking at you with nothing but pity in her eyes. You bite down on your lip hard, attempting to keep the tears at bay. Michelle pulls you into a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around you while you lay against her limply.

“What am I going to do?” you ask her, voice thick with emotion. She pulls back from you and holds onto your shoulders.

“You stay here today. I’ll tell our professors that you’re sick. Okay (Y/n)?” She says in a nurturing tone. You sniffle and wipe your nose.

“I don’t know Michelle. We have an exam in potions today and you already know Snape hates me. What if he won’t let me take it later? I can’t afford a bad grade in his class,” you reply. Michelle shakes her head slightly.

“Well, Snape’s an ass,” she says.

“Yeah, an ass that could fail me,” you retort, beginning to become frustrated. Michelle sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulder.

“Fine. But are you really going to go to class like that?” she asks.

“I guess I have to,” you say.

“I mean it has to wear off eventually. Or maybe Madame Pomfrey has an antidote or something, though I’m not sure she’d know how to fix this,” Michelle says, gesturing to you. You groan in frustration and fling yourself back onto your bed.

“Yeah I doubt she just keeps an antidote around for pink skin,” you say bitterly, running your hands over your face.

“Do you know who did this to you,” Michelle asks from her place by the mirror. You frown to yourself. You hadn’t thought about that yet, too caught up in your anger at your condition and your ruined week.

“I have no idea,” you reply, moving to prop yourself up on your elbows. “Who’d want to do this to me?” you question.

“Maybe that first year you almost hexed the other day,” Michelle said with a laugh. She snapped her mouth shut once she caught sight of your glare.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Well, obviously whoever did this to you got their materials from the Weasley twins. Zonkos doesn’t sell anything like this,” Michelle continues casually. You sit up with a start.

“Of course! Oh, Michelle, you’re a genius!” you practically yell, jumping up from your bed.

“Huh? I know but what did I do to deserve the title?” Michelle asks as you grab your wand from your nightstand. You smile at her mischievously.

“If the Weasley twins made whatever turned me pink, then they obviously have the cure,” you say as you quickly slip on your slippers. Michelle’s mouth forms an “O” as she realizes your plan. You shout a quick goodbye before heading out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you march down the halls towards the Gryffindor common room you find yourself lost in your thoughts and getting increasingly angry.

How dare they! Who gave them the right to mess with people’s lives for profit? You think to yourself as you near the large portrait that guards the room. Your frown deepens as the stress of your entire week envelope you. By the time you stand in front of the fat lady, you feel anger coursing through your veins like an uncontrollable wave.

“Password?” she asks, looking down on you with a wide-eyed expression.

“I don’t know the damn password just let me in!” you shout back at her, red hot anger overtaking you.

“Do you actually think I am going to let you in if you don’t know the password? Are you daft?” she responds haughtily. You feel you face flush (though considering your skin was already a deep shade of pink, you weren’t sure if anyone could tell) with rage.

“I swear to Merlin if you don’t let me in there right now I will rip down your frame with my bare hands! Do you understand me?” you yell back. You watch her expression morph into one of extreme shock before she is pushed open by a group of first years who appear to be on their way to breakfast. Your gaze snaps to them, watching as their eyes widen at the sight of your appearance. You quickly take advantage of the situation and shoulder your way into the common room. The portrait hole closes behind you with a bang, causing the students in the room to all to turn their attention to you. You glower at them all, not caring how you must’ve looked with your hot pink skin, pajamas, slippers, and extreme bed head.

“Where are they?” you growl, eyes shifting around the common room. An array of hands point to a couch on the far side of the room. You turn to look at the couch to see one twin sitting on it, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him. His face was twisted into an amused smirk as he took in your appearance. You began to stalk your way over to him, the other Gryffindors practically jumping out of your way. You arrive in front of him, the redhead still donning the same obnoxious expression.

“Weasley,” you say, seething.

“Speaking. How can I help you?” He replies, amusement lacing his voice.

“Give me the cure for whatever it is that you did to me,” you spit out.

“I’m sorry love but I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Fred Weasley I swear to-”

“It’s George actually,” he says from his spot down on the couch.

“I don’t give a damn which one of you this is! Just give me the antidote,” you scream. “I have had possibly the worst week of my entire life so I need you to give me the cure right now or so help me God,” you say, anger lacing every word. George at least has the decency to look guilty for a moment, but the look is quickly replaced with another overconfident smirk.

“I really am sorry but there’s nothing I can do,” he says, holding his hands up in front of him. You huff in anger before grabbing the collar of his uniform, pulling his up out of his sitting position to be eye to eye with you.

“George Weasley I do not care if there is nothing you can do. You will find some way to fix me or I swear on my life that I will castrate you!” you say through gritted teeth. George looks shocked for a moment before a grin spreads across his face.

“Promise?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. You frown, pulling him slightly closer to your face.

“Weasley do not test me,” you retort. George stares at you for a moment, smirking. He then looks over your shoulder at his younger brother.

“Ron? Go fetch Fred for me? And tell him to bring the antidote for the skin tinting potion,” he says with a smile. You release his uniform from your grip, stepping back slightly.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says with a lopsided grin. You turn over your shoulder and see Ron scrambling up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. You glance around the common room and realize how many eyes are on you before crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from their gaze. You steal a quick glance at George only to see him still looking at you with that dumb smirk on his face. You attempt to scowl at him, but now that you have been made aware of the audience you garnered, you can’t quite muster it up. You look back down at your feet, mentally scolding yourself for running out of your dorm before you thought to change your clothes. If the scene you had just made wasn’t embarrassing enough, you were wearing an old tshirt for a muggle boyband and slippers shaped like rabbits. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

After what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes Ron returned with another red head at his side.

“What is it George,” Fred asks, clearly still half asleep. George turns his gaze away from you and turns to his twin.

“Did you bring the antidote?” He asks. Fred rolls his eyes before producing it from the pocket of his robes.

“Yes George. Why do you need it?” he asks. George gestures to you before saying, “This young lady right here threatened to castrate me if I didn’t find her a cure.” Fred turns to look at you, seemingly just noticing your presence, before beginning to laugh. If your face could turn any pinker you were sure that it would.

“Oh Merlin I can’t believe that really worked!” Fred exclaims. “I really had my doubts about this potion but clearly I was wrong,” he says proudly. You flare your nostrils in annoyance.

“Weasley,” you say. “Can you please just hand over the antidote?” Fred taps his chin for a moment, as if in deep thought.

“I’m not sure. It’s against our company policy. After all we were paid good money for you to look like that,” he answers. You feel your expression shift into a glare before turning to look at George.

“George, you told me I would be getting the antidote,” you say.

“Hey, I never promised anything,” he says with his hands held out in front of him. You scowl at him.

“Do I need to remind you of the conversation we had a few minutes ago?” you ask. With that, George turns towards his brother with a smile.

“Fred, if my balls are in this much trouble I think we ought to give her the cure,” he states, crossing his arms. Fred gives him an incredulous look.

“George what are you-” Fred begins.

“Come on mate just give her the antidote,” George says, cutting off his brother. The twins stare at eachother for a second, appearing to have a silent conversation. Fred eventually sighs and gives you the bottle.

“Congratulations, you’ve become the first exception to our ‘no antidote’ rule. I hope you enjoy your day pink free,” he says in a slightly sarcastic tone. You smile triumphantly before grabbing the bottle.

“Thank you very much,” you reply as you examine the potion in your hand. You quickly look back up at the twins. You nod at them before turning around and making your escape towards the portrait hole. The other Gryffindors avert their eyes and pretend that they hadn’t been listening in on the whole conversation while the twins stare after you. After the portrait hole closes behind you Fred turns to face his brother.

“What the hell was that?” he asks. George continues to stare at the portrait whole, almost like he was in a daze.

“Huh?”

“I can’t believe you gave her the antidote! We had an agreement and that kid payed us for the potion so you can’t just go around curing people for free! What if hat kid wants a refund now or-”

“Freddie?” George says, interrupting his brother’s rant. Fred lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes Geroge?”

“I think I may have just fallen in love."

#George weasley #george weasley x reader #harry potter #oliver phelps #george weasley imagine #george weasley/reader #george weasley/you #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george wealsey x reader

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believinghurts · 3 years

Text

New Series Alert

I have gotten back into Twilight and have decided to take a swing at writing fanfics for it. This is the prolouge/start to my new OC series. Please read and let me know what you think! Don’t worry I will be continuing writing the Their Daugther series as well, but my James Potter and Percy Weasley series has been put on pause. I’m not 100% sure where to go next in those stories so until I figure it out I am trying something new!

Warnings: Bella bashing, jealously, umm Renee being rude

Word Count: 900

Lucky Star

“Well I see that you are still dying your hair those God awful colors, Elizabeth,” Renee sneered at her eldest daughter while her step-siblings, Jack and Maisie, and her sister laughed.

“Yeah, I am. Good to see you too, mom,” Lizzie rolled her eyes slightly. She had always been the least favorite twin in her mother's eyes. Isabella, her sister, was perfect in every way possible according to Renee. This was the first time she had seen her mother in about 4 years. Lizzie had lived with their father all of her life. When she and her sister were three their parents got divorced. Isabella went with their mom and Lizzie with their dad, then during the summer, the girls would switch for a month. That was up until their mother met Phil and his two-span, then Lizzie’s summers became filled with sitting in her small room alone. Bella decided when she was 11 that she didn’t want to switch anymore causing Lizzie to stop seeing their mother altogether. She would call once or twice a year if that, but it was fine. Lizzie had plenty of people to fill that void in such as Sue Clearwater and her boyfriends’ mother, Esme.

Lizzie wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for Renee not wanting Bella to fly alone, but of course, it was okay for Lizzie to fly alone to Arizona to just turn around and fly right back to Forks, Washington. Lizzie would much rather be at home watching baseball with her dad or out with Rose causing mischief to Roses’ siblings. Lizzie had always been slightly envious of the Cullen siblings' relationship. Although adopted they were all incredibly close. Emmett and Edwards were always joking around with Rose and Alice talking about fashion while Jasper and Grey were always working on some sort of puzzle. Isabella and Lizzie had never really gotten along even as kids. The favoritism from their mother combined with Bellas's need to be the center of attention always caused a rift.

Lizzie remembers the one time she got the lead in a school play during the fourth grade. She had called her mother, excited to share her achievement only to have her rip it away by saying Bella won some award for math and that Lizzie probably only got it because the other girl was sick or something. Bella bragged about her award every time she saw her sister while belittling her about the play-calling it and Lizzie names.

“I would love to stay and chat, but we have a flight to catch. Come on Bella.” Lizzie turned and walked back towards the Port Angeles terminal wanting to get back to rainy Washington and away from her mother as soon as possible. She hears Bella say goodbye and her hurried footsteps to catch up with Lizzie.

“You could have said goodbye” the younger Swan snapped while they waited for their boarding passes to be called.

“Why? It’s not like mom or any of them care if I do or not,” Lizzie answered back. The sound of Lizzies phone ringing cut of Bellas reply. Lizzie smiled before picking up. “Hey, Esme. What’s up?”

“Hi, darling. I was just making sure you landed okay and was about to be on your way back,” The matron of the Cullen household replied. Esme had loved Lizzie ever since she met her. The girl was sweet and caring towards everyone including her family of vampires. Lizzie never made them feel like they were anything less than human. Esme had heard of how her actual mother treated her and stepped in to help fill the role since she already saw her as one of her own.

“Yeah, the flight was fine. We’re waiting to be called now. So I’ll have to get off soon.” Lizzie ignored Bellas's confused looking glare.

“That’s fine. I was just checking up on you. I’ll see you tomorrow hopefully.” Lizzie heard a yell coming through the background. “Tell my girl I’ll see her at school tomorrow!”

Lizzie giggled, “I’ll see everyone tomorrow. Bye Esme,” and since she knew whoever was in the house could hear her, “Bye everyone else!” a chorus of byes rang out as she ended the call.

“Who was that?” Bella asked. She was confused as to why her sister had so many people who cared about her. Bella knew she was the better twin; she was prettier, smarter, funnier.

Lizzie ignored her sister till after take off. She knew she was trapped into answering now. “Lizzie, who was that? Whose Esme? Dad’s girlfriend?”

Lizzie burst out laughing. She knew that her dad would never date, she had tried multiple times to get him to. He was too focused on his daughter and job to do so. And the thought of Carlisle and Esme not being together was heartbreaking, “No, Esme is not dads’ girlfriend. Esme is my boyfriend's mother.”

Bellas jaw dropped to the floor. Does her sister have a boyfriend? Who has a family that likes her? That was insane to her. Bella remained quiet for the remainder of the flight thinking of how she was going to get this ‘boyfriend to leave her sister and come to her. She knew that he was probably weird if he was dating her blue-haired sister, but she didn’t care. Soon everyone would see what a freak Elizabeth Star Swan was

#twilight fanfiction #twilight #wolf pack twilight #carlise cullen #edward cullen #esme cullen #jasper cullen #cullen coven #cullen family #rosalie cullen #twilight oc #new work #new series

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luminnara · 4 years

Text

The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid!

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask.

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink.

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him.

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.”

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look.

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss.

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him.

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure.

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair.

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you.

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected.

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney.

Zsasz couldn’t look away.

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough.

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh.

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away.

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!” as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more.

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly.

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled.

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile.

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead.

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully.

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience.

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves.

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head.

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself.

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way.

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss.

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now.

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself.

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh.

“He loved it,” you grinned.

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face.

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze.

You could see Zsasz in the mirror.

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him.

You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman.

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie.

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked.

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways.

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable.

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior.

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too.

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said.

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped.

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man.

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest.

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse.

#victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #dceu #dceu imagine #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #gotham #chris messina imagine

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

With Marcus Pike? Maybe BFFs to lovers because I want it to end happy? Thank you 🙏

Love of his life

Pairing: Marcus Pike x best friend!Female Reader

Characters: Marcus Pike,

Setting: five years after the last episode Marcus was in.

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: 2,774

Summary: Conversation overheard leads to feelings of regret at the chance not taken. Will he take that risk and go for who he wants or let it slide away just like the past?

Word count:

Notes: Written for the lovely @hnt-escape asking for the prompt “I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” Will be in bold in the story. I hope you enjoy sweetie.

Tag List:

Forever tags: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Pedro Pascal tags: @evyiione

Staring into the caramel colored liquid ceramic mug warming your hands, thoughts clouded by a certain brown eyed man and how to handle the feelings you’ve harbored since grade school.

“Trying to divine this weeks lotta numbers from you coffee sweetie?” Soothing southern accented voice breaks through the fog smile in the sweet lilt.

Head snapping up to look towards the blonde, grin firmly in place over her ruby lips, “I wish, would donate at least half to research the antiquities we have that no one’s cataloged yet.”

“Wow devoted,” chuckling, walking over to the Keurig k-cup spinner to pluck the last Colombian dark roast pod. “What or should I say who’s on that gorgeous your mind that’s got your brow furrowed deeper than the Mariana Trench?”

Not wishing to discuss your thoughts right now, you deflect to ask, “Those things waste so much Donna and bad for the environment. Why don’t you just buy the bulk grounds?”

“Great way to keep from answering the true question,” baby blues lock, sincerity written deep and meaningful. Knowing she’s only trying to help having confided many times your dilemma those feelings you’ve held on to for so long brings about. “I don’t know why you haven’t told him sugar I mean you came to DC…”

“For this job Donna, Marcus turned up later… not much later,” last few words muttered into cooling coffee you try to hide behind while taking a sip. “I didn’t upheave my life for a man,” not sure who you’re trying to convince more yourself or Donna.

Established in your position at the museum a month before Marcus’s transfer and at the time he’s heavily invested with one Teresa Lisbon. Memories flood through like film reel before your eyes. Of that very night he comes to you heartbroken bags in hand with no one beside him and no real place to go. Promising yourself to shove your feelings aside and help him get back on steady legs. Even letting him stay till his place became ready to move in.

Loud snort greets your ears, breaking you from memory lane. “You keep telling yourself that and while you’re at it keeping him friend zoned when your clearly in love with him does neither one of you any good. He ain’t gonna wait around forever sugar trust me on that one,” hurt coloring her tone speaking volumes of her own pain. She looks away to watch the final drops of coffee land in her mug. You know exactly why she’s not looking at your right now, the hurt she tries to hide behind the bubbly personality. Fixing her coffee up just the way she likes to hide her own pain she’s shared a few times.

“How,” licking your lips slowly, mug placed beside you on the counter to clasp your hands in front of you. “I’m not even sure how or where to start Donna. He’s my best friend knows me inside and out I don’t…”

“Do you love him?” Simple question with no easy answer as grey blue eyes land on and pierce you with their intensity.

“I…” wringing those hands her question chases thoughts around your head. Finally giving the heart answer, “I love him, just unsure if he loves me in the same way. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to change the dynamics of our relationship and loose what we have for a what if.”

“Oh sweetheart I know it’s not easy to bank on what if’s but trust me when I say that man loves you in ways I’ve never seen and I’ve seen a lot.” Giving you a teasing wink then sobering, “Why do ya think I haven’t tried to snag him up myself?”

“Cause he’s not your type?” Joke sounding stupid to your own ears, glaze dropping to your shoes. “What if… what if I’m not his type? I mean you’ve seen the women he’s gone out with before. I’m hardly in the same league.”

“No your in a league of your own sugar.” Head nodding in understanding Donna comes over resting a hand on your bicep giving a gentle squeeze. “Compensating maybe even trying to replace the one he truly wants sweetheart. Don’t let a good man slip away especially since you love him.”

“I do, he’s,” head shaking at a loss for words to describe Marcus. “Amazing and sweet, the kind of man that’s so easy to love and care for. I’m lost truly without him.” Happy tears blur your vision for a moment thinking about him. How he’s always at your side just when you need him without notice at times. Sixth sense when you need those late night pancakes from the best diner in town. Watching old movies after a crappy break up, snuggled together with popcorn and beer, snacks of all kinds. Snap shot of his face filters across your vision, “I’m gonna tell him in fact,” glancing down at your watch finding end of day fast approaching. “Would you close down for me Donna I need to tell him now before loosing my nerve.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice sugar go get your man,” nodding towards the doorway you start for, coffee long forgotten in favor of someone more sweeter. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“There’s things you wouldn’t do?” Cheeky grin highlighting your features, the sound of crinkling plastic reaching your ears so you look down. Frown replacing the smile at finding a small bouquet of blue tipped carnations laying on the ground. Bending to scoop up the beautiful flowers knowing only one man would’ve brought these. “Shit,” curse flying from your mouth while your feet start to eat up the distance towards the back doors bouquet held firmly in your grasp.

Missing Donna yelling about your keys and belongings, to not forget about the storm rumbling in the background. Wide smile forming watching you go hoping you’ll catch Marcus just in time.

While you pray with each step taken you’ll catch him in time to explain. Thoughts running rampant wondering what he heard and didn’t. If the reason for the dropped flowers has to do with the fact he thinks you love someone else. That last thought spurs you on into a run, thankful for the flats you wore today instead of customary heels you normally wear. Eating up the distance you burst through the back doors into a curtain of rain meeting your eyes as more curses fly from your lips. You pause eyes narrowing through the gloom looking for Marcus’s car, his back, hair surely plastered to against his head. Something to point you in the right direction. At the right moment a flash of lighting illuminating the darken skies, makes you jump but press on determined to find him. While stepping out into the pouring rain, clothes soaked through low rumblings of thunder taking your calls out for Marcus away with the howling wind.

Tears form and slide down cool cheeks, still franticly looking around but coming up empty till you catch the flash of grey out of your periphery. Whipping around you head in the direction calling out his name praying there’s a break in the rain so your voice carries to his ears.

And for a moment that one split second he catches a sound other than the storm raging around him. Sweet desperate voice calling out his name, giving him pause in dragging footsteps. Looking around but seeing nothing but the driving rain, drops soaking his suit and blurring his vision. Before turning to resume his path the voice calls out again, nearer and stronger than the last time.

His doubts cloud the mind, accusing him of hearing things the wind brings from other parts of the parking lot. Till a vision dressed in black slacks, creamy silk blouse, hair and clothes plasters to your body appears in front of him. Hand raised in the vain attempt to keep the rain from your face as you search for him.

Eyes lock surprised deep chocolate orbs meet the relief in yours, “You’re gonna get sick sweetheart go back inside.”

“No,” single word yelled out as you near Marcus, gripping his bicep and moving closer to speak into his ear. Warm breath making him shiver despite the cold rain trying to drown the both of you. “Why’d you leave?”

“Saw you busy didn’t want…” shaking your head Marcus swallows catching sight of the flowers in your free hand.

“You dropped these why?” Hurt lacing the tone in your voice as you bring the small plastic wrapped bundle up between you. “Thank you.”

Eyes dart between the flowers and your eyes unsure how to answer your question as so many of his own chase around his mind. Wanting the truth Marcus gather’s his courage to ask, “Do you love him?”

Confusion coats your veins, drawing up your brows with the same emotion till it clicks. “Yes, very much in fact you just doesn’t know it.”

“I’m done,” pain etched into his voice heart aching behind its prison of bone and flesh. Misunderstanding the look in your eyes and the words your spoke. “I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction. I just can’t do it anymore it’s so much worse than any of the other.” Taking two steps back from your touch that sears the skin under heavy suit jacket and starch white cotton dress shirt. Gaze dropping to concrete unable to look into your eyes a second longer knowing he’s lost the chance. Internally cursing himself for waiting so long, letting other’s in his heart when the one woman he’s wanted all along stood by him through all life’s ups and downs.

Frowning at the loss of touch, his words sinking in you step forward he matches with one back. “Marcus,” soft achingly tender voice reaches out towards him. Heard now the rain has slowed to light drizzle. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you? Not as a brother or best friend, but in love with you.”

“What?” Single word choked off on a gasp, eyes reaching your smiling orbs trying to find the jest. Only seeing genuine love backed by worry and fear that he doesn’t truly have the same feelings. “You never told me.”

“You didn’t tell me either Pike so we’re kinda in the same boat,” carefully reaching out for his nearest hand tugging him back towards you. “So many times I’d try to tell you, to explain, to see if there’s a chance for us. Every time someone else got my shot. I gave up almost for good this time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moving closer, warm palm coming up to cup your cheek from apple to jawline. Thump brushing slowly over soft delicate skin drowning in your eyes as you rubbing your cheek into his large palm. “Never would’ve guess you felt the same way.”

Not sure how to answer the first question, so you joke instead. “Not only good at picking out a fake piece of art but putting on a good show.” Trying to infuse a little lightheartedness into the tense moment. “Gonna call Oscar see if they’ll give me one of those little golden guys for my performance. Not Ingrid Bergman worthy but I can hold my own,” nervous little laugh leaving your lips that Marcus brushes his thumb over the bottom lip. Stuck dumb by the action breath shallow before held while trying to depict the emotions running through those sweet brown eyes. “Say some Marcus.”

The tremor in your voice shakes the shocked cobwebs from his mind to focus his thoughts. Picking up that you haven’t answered his first question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Which time?” Breathy sigh leaving your mouth as you try to gather the right words. “Not to mention your my best friend Marcus I didn’t want to fuck that up especially if you didn’t feel the same way,” taking a breath fresh rain mixes with the warm subtle cologne Marcus wears. “Couldn’t risk loosing you and changing our relationship for a what if.”

“And now?” Cupping the other side of your face, keeping your chin tilted upward, eyes searching the depths of yours. Finding the peace he’s missed out on with everyone who came before. Home written in your embrace, sweet light flora scent wrapping around his senses reminding him of just who he needs.

Swallowing, pink tongue coming out to wet your lips, a path he follows with rapt attention. “I recently became enlightened by a good friend reminding me sometimes you need to take those chances.” Both arms wrap around his neck, flowers still clutched tightly, free hand carding through rain soaked strands at the back of his head. Blunt nails scratching gently over Marcus’s neck receiving a shiver that vibrates through your body and has nothing to do with the cool air or wet clothing.

“And you want to take that leap with me?” Inching closer with barely a millimeter’s breath between your lips. Eyes still wide open assuring each other and finally showing the truth and need.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful love affair,” cheeky smile splitting your face at the crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. Knowing full well you’ve gotten the quote wrong on purpose.

“Here’s looking at you kid,” deepened voice sending tingles of excitement racing down your spine. Slightest brush of his chapped lips to yours bringing a sigh and parting your mouth that’s captured and devoured.

Angling your head just right as he licks into your sweet coffee tasting mouth mixing the minty freshness of his. Low groan whispers between your lips, which moves and changes. Nibbling his bottom lip, slipping your tongue over the bruised skin to sooth before sliding back into the warm cavern of his delectable mouth. Dreams having no merit on the real kiss that makes your toes curl a moan of your own existing to join with the groan he’s let loose. Air becoming much needed and you part to rest foreheads together.

“I love you to have for a long time,” admitting his feelings frees a part of him held back for so long. “I’m sorry for all the missed opportunities but if you’ll let me I’ll make them all up to you.”

“Start by taking me home to change then out for pancakes,” bright smile blooming over your lips that press into his. Unable to stop yourself from giving another tender kiss while wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter. “And kisses lots more kisses,” mumbling the words into his mouth while initiating another kiss for emphasis.

Only breaking when someone clears their throat you both turn to see Donna standing there with your purse in hand. “No making out in the parking lot you two take it home,” grinning extending your purse towards you. “Just remember don’t do anything I would,” before turning to start back towards the museum. “Congratulations by the way took y’all long enough.”

“There’s things you’d do I wouldn’t Donna,” you call after her shaking your head before looking back up at Marcus. Catching the look burning in his eyes, “I’m guessing pancakes won’t happen tonight huh?”

Soft smirk slides over those kiss swollen lips, “Later but right now I have other plans.” Tugging you against his chest for one last deep drugging kiss that leaves you weak kneed and panting.

“Care to share those plans?” Snuggling into his arms as you both head the last short distance to his car.

Opening then crowding you into the corner of the door hands braced on either side to lean in placing a soft chase kiss to your cheek. “Making up for all the missed time and then later,” pausing to brush his lips over your ear. Whispering the last words with gentle puffs of air floating across your skin. “I’ll make you those pancakes and lick the syrup from your lips afterwards and any other place you’ll let me.”

“Only if you’ll let me return the flavor,” mischievous smile stretching across your lips, ducking under his arms to slide into the car. Finding him still standing there, you tug on his jacket gaining his attention.

Darken eyes meet yours, “I’ll even paint you like one of my French girls,” sending you a playful wink while closing the car door and running around to the drivers side. Marcus slides in, key slipping into ignition, simple flick of his wrist the car flares to life and he’s backing out heading for home and a new start filled with promise.

#Request #Marcus Pike x Female Reader #Marcus Pike x FemReader #Marcus Pike x F!Reader #Marcus Pike Fiction #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #The Mentalist Fiction

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