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riaki · 9 months

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a spritz of peppermint | megumi fushiguro x reader

pt.6 of christmas event! cw: petnames i think idk, not proofread, there’s probably other stuff i’m missing but wtv happy birthday the prettiest king pls come back the food is cold

today is a very special day.

megumi notices that you rise early— mostly because when he wakes up in the morning, rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes groggily with a groan, he notices you’re not there. he rolls over, and smacks his face into cold sheets, devoid of your heat.

it pisses him off. so he starts his special day out as a grouch.

when he eventually crawls out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen after pulling on some sweats, though— he stops just short of the threshold to that sweet smelling cozy haven you love to spend your time in. the scent of pine needles and fresh chocolate orange wafts across the space, warm and welcoming and awfully wintery. he’s impartial to the cold— but he likes seeing your nose get red, so he guesses that’s one point positive.

“megumi?” your soft voice drifts across the open space, and the frost around his grumpy heart melts just a little; a crack in the frozen surface of the lake.

he reluctantly emerges from the shadow of the hallway, past the bundle of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. the thought causes a memory to flash across his mind— your sweet smile and your prettier laugh; a distinct feeling of fuzzy warmth like a knitted sweater spreading across his cheeks when you pulled him close by the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in—

he shakes his head, trying to dash the stray thought. he’s supposed to be mad. it has no right to be there.

“why’d you get up so early?” he sighs heavily as he joins you at your side, scratching the back of his neck and running a hand through his unruly hair. you smiled sheepishly, turning to face him and you wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing lightly as a silent apology. he takes it with a grumble, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his face in your hair to bask in the scent of home before pulling away.

“it’s a secret.” you grinned, and he glares down at you, clicking his teeth in annoyance. you just laugh like the angel you are, leaving no room for guilt. you’re wearing one of his sweaters; you smell like him, and he supposes it makes up for the way you ditched him this morning.

“i expect compensation.” he grumbles, leaning against the counter as he watches you move about the kitchen, pale winter sunlight painting you like an ethereal dancer beneath the surface of misty lake water, crystal clear in your beauty. it’s mesmerizing.

you laughed, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip. “what, missed me? were you feeling lonely, gumi?” you smiled.

he just shoots you a piercing glare, the color of icicles in his eyes, but the warmth of your grin melts it away. you spend the next few moments in a comfortable silence, preparing a french toast topped with sweet berries and powdered sugar that looks so soft megumi could probably sink into it, until your lovely voice breaks the crisp morning silence.

“want black coffee?”

…

that’s weird. he never hesitates. and you know he takes his coffee black; of course you do. not because he wants to look cool, or look suave in another person’s eyes… well, except for you, of course. but not in the area of caffeine doses. and to be perfectly clear, all he needs is a dose of you to get him going.

he clears his throat. “can you make me hot chocolate?”

you pause, and he almost wants to bite his tongue off. why is he so embarrassed? but you just chuckle, like morning bird song across fresh dew on the grass.

“switching it up, huh? that’s cute.” you hum, and his face burns hot like embers in a brick fireplace. he coughs, throat scratchy like the pricks of a pinecone— but you make no note of it, simply going about your day.

he’s content to watch as you fish around in the rum-colored cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of cocoa powder. you put him on milk microwaving duty and he busies himself, lithe pale fingers unscrewing the carton of milk and pouring it into his favorite little painted dog mug. you were the one who’d made it; that silly little ceramics class you insisted on taking clearly didn’t help you too much in the way of smoothing down the bumps and blotches on the mug, but it holds your fingerprint, so he might as well memorize the shape of your hands when you’re not there.

megumi’s snapped back to reality when you grab a candy cane from the mini tree you decorated together sitting on the kitchen counter, smashing it up in the wrappings to mix the pepperminty dust with the cocoa powder. he eyes the pile of holiday drug warily as he brings the steaming mug over, placing it before you and leaning against the counter again to watch you work your mystery magic.

“that looks like brown cocai—”

“shh, megumi. keep your pretty mouth shut, please.”

he’s about to butt in again, lips parted before he presses them together irritatedly and resigns to sulk in silence.

you pour the hot chocolate mix into the milk, swishing it together as it forms a pretty spiral of cocoa; the color of dark chai and chocolate tart. he’s content to watch in silence, humming some christmas carol he’d overheard you listening to one gray afternoon— until he realizes you’re opening a bag of those sickeningly sweet and fluffy marshmallows he’d bought you on a whim. he only did it because his mentor told him they made the best gifts, but he’s beginning to realize it was the sweet tooth talking.

“hey— wait… are you going to put those in there, pretty?” he asks, putting a gentle hand on your wrist to stop you from vigorously emptying the bag into his poor victimized hot chocolate mug.

you glance up at him and flash a toothy grin, giving him one of those looks that makes his heart skip a beat. “trust me, gumi! you’re gonna love it.” you laughed, shrugging his hand off, and his lips curve downward. less because of the marshmallows that are toppling into his mug with a splash and more so because you freed yourself from his grasp.

obviously, you notice— your eyebrows knit together, a pinch of guilt weighing upon them like the snow on the streets outside. but it’s wiped away as quickly as it comes; before he knows it, you’re walking away with a bounce in your step, disappearing behind the counter before re-emerging with something behind your back.

“don’t look so sad, gumi. here,” you say, the cadence of your voice as soft and playful as he ever remembers it being when you pull a bunch of roses from behind your back. the bouquet is small and there’s dirt clinging to the stems— but his heart melts at the thought that you hand-picked them, prickly thorns and all, for him. “happy birthday,” you whispered, and his walls break.

“you’re not so different from them, you know.” you hummed, smiling as he takes them from you and gives you an inquisitive, quiet look. “you might be a little prickly on the outside, but you’re just as beautiful. you just have to look a little past the thorns.”

he feels his face flush; at this point, it’s probably as red as the stray candy cane shavings melting in his mug and the vibrant petals of the roses. he splutters and mumbles something annoyed under his breath, but he’s sure you can hear the undercurrent of fondness and affection weaves into each syllable like the beats of his heart, where you’re so close to. megumi thinks you might’ve just cut him open and made a home in his ribcage.

the bunch of handpicked roses for his special day sit on the marble counter dusted with cocoa powder and candy cane shavings, marshmallows bobbing at the surface of his hot chocolate like apples in a bucket as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in to press his lips insistently to yours, slow and tender like the way he always loves you. his hands curl around your sides, as if to ground you there; freeze the time in this bubble of warmth, forgetting the chill outside to warm his hands on your skin. you’re so little in his arms; he wants to hold you and never let you go, to keep you under his tree and have you make hot chocolate for him instead of black coffee every morning he wakes up, because it’s fine if you’re not there in bed— as long as you’re waiting for him with open arms elsewhere.

and when he kisses you, he realizes he might not need his hot cocoa to warm his stomach— your lips are as soft and pillowy sweet as the marshmallows melting in his mug, filled with steaming hot cocoa and all the love he could ever wrap his heart in this cozy winter; his christmas gift to you.

he’s grateful today is a special day, if only because of you and his sweet little painted dog mug filled with your heartwarming love.

stop this was so close to being late my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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joelswritingmistress · 7 months

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 52

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

I felt my heart break a little. Despite the danger and the fear and the anger, the look on Carol’s face made my stomach ache. She didn’t know if she did the right thing by pulling the trigger. She looked a combination of remorseful, sad and afraid.

“I forgive you,” Will wiggled his fingers at her again. “You’re in a weird position, Carol. I know. I forgive you, honey.”

Carol glanced toward Dr. Miller and me.

“Take the safety off!” Her brother choked out, raising his voice fully for the first time. “Carol!”

Will lunged forward and Carol shrieked as he gripped her arm, twisting it just enough to free the weapon from her hand. This was about the same time that Chas began his stealthy, methodical walk in their direction. He didn’t make a sound.

“He’s right,” Will shrugged, pointing the gun at his bride-to-be. “I’m nothing if not careful.” He ran a hand through his hair and his personality suddenly went bipolar as he shouted, “Fuck!” It made me jump and Chas stopped short as he walked toward Will from behind.

“Will, just talk to me, honey.” Carol played along, never once looking at her father over his shoulder. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I didn’t want to involve you in all this, Carol.” Will shook his head, sucking his teeth in frustration. “You and I were supposed to make it out of this. Live happily ever after.” He eyed the ceiling and shook his head, still pointing the gun at her. “What the hell made you come down here?” He then shouted again, “Why?”

Carol jumped and put her hands out in front of her. “I wanted to see you.” She swallowed hard, “I was lonely and I thought you were at the bar. When you weren’t, I took a chance on coming down here.”

Will let out a loud, deep breath. “You pulled the trigger.”

“I don’t know why I did that.”

“But you did.. that.”

“I know,” Carol went on, “And I’m sorry, Will. I really am.”

“I love you. I really do love you, Carol. I wanted us to be together, to work through this.”

“Work through what exactly?” Her voice was shaking, “What did you do? Tell me everything. Please, what did you do?”

Chas closed in. I watched the events unfold like a movie. I couldn’t move. My body was a shivering, frozen mess. I felt exactly that. Frozen.

Will cocked back the gun with his thumb and this time all other emotions exited the frame and fear was left on Carol’s face.

“I regret having to do this,” Will told her. “On the night before our..” He glanced down to the side and suddenly whipped around, spotting Chas just a few feet away.

“Will,” Chas put his hand up and stopped again. “Think about what you’re doing here.”

“If you were a few inches shorter, Chas, I wouldn’t have seen your shadow.” His jaw tightened.

“Give me the gun.”

“The police already know it’s you!” I shouted across the room. “Killing everyone here will do nothing.” My teeth chattered and I tried to sound convincing.

“Yeah, I’m going to disregard that theory,” Will said, brushing off my attempt at a warning - or a threat. He looked back to Chas and raised the gun, “Goodbye, Dad.”

Carol sprinted in his direction, screaming as she tackled Will to the ground from behind. At the same time, the gun went off and I immediately moved my hands to my ears. That was the first time I had heard a firearm being shot; and in the echoey pool area it sounded more like a cannon.

“Dad!” Dr. Miller shrieked and I realized that Chas had been knocked to the ground and laid flat on his back.

Carol was still on Will’s back, and I ran toward the gun that had skipped out of his hands when she tackled him. He quickly shoved her off and I grabbed it before he could come over.

“Give it to me!” Dr. Miller shouted, “(Y/N), give me the gun!”

I ran to him, feeling Will at my heels, and managed to get it into Dr. Miller’s hands as I leapt into the pool, more as a reaction than for any logical reason.

Will ran down the first two steps and then froze when he came face-to-face with the barrel as Dr. Miller’s dark eyes burned into his.

I could feel my own breathing. I literally could feel it. My chest heaved up and down. My shoulders lifted each time I inhaled and dropped each time I exhaled. My throat was dry and I felt like this must be what an asthma attack felt like. I couldn’t breathe like I normally breathed.

It was all a blur. At once, my thoughts were juggling between, is Chas alive? Will Dr. Miller shoot Will? Does Dr. Miller have the physical strength to shoot him? What is Carol going to do? Did anyone hear the gunshot? Are we going to survive this?

Panic set in. My ears were no longer functioning. I couldn’t accurately make out a single word that was being said, screamed or negotiated. Will’s lips were moving. From where I was positioned just behind Dr. Miller I could see his entire upper body trembling as he held the gun out in front of him.

Chas’s head rose and fell. Carol kneeled down beside her father. Blood covered her palms and she began to apply pressure to a would on his upper body.

“Joel!” She shrieked. I heard her that time. And the second plea was louder.

Do it. Don’t do it. Shoot him. Don’t shoot him. I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what I could cope with. Would I be able to go on living my normal life if Dr. Miller blew Will’s head off right in front of me? No. I knew the answer to that. No, I couldn’t. It would ruin me. I knew it would.

But did that matter? What if WIll lunged for the gun? What was Dr. Miller supposed to do then? Let him take it from him? Let Will kill us all one-by-one? Forever therapy seemed like the better option of the two. Will killed all those girls. Will deserved to die.

I closed my eyes tightly and blocked it all out. I couldn’t bare it. Any of it. I put my hands over my ears and cowered behind Dr. Miller. I clamped my teeth down so hard I was certain I could crack a molar.

And then I heard Carol’s muffled cries. “You don’t have to do this, Joel! You don’t have to do this!”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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chronicallydolly · 8 months

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The time passed, hours, days, weeks and months were all blurred in a weird fog and all was mixed together. Ren was laying on his bed looking at the ceiling thinking. His whole year in Sojiro Café and his friends, his Phantom Thieves… all those things changed him. His heart and mind were carrying the memories, all the scars, all the hope. Ren sighed with sadness. Something was hurting him inside. Akechi.

There were so many emotions, feelings and memories that his normal life and his room felt… wrong. Ren felt like a stranger in that "home". His room was filled with his favorite things and extremely well decorated but for first time it was not comfortable. It felt empty and off.

He closed his eyes and his chest felt heavy and tight.

His heart was telling him that it was time to leave, the time was passing again and the feeling was growing. Ren followed his wishes and he decided to leave his parents and home forever, he wanted to live by himself and spread his wings even if he didn't knew how to to fly. He was nostalgic for something or somewhere that he could't recognize until one day the answer appeared like a small light. He wanted to live a peaceful life.

He came back with Sojiro. Sojiro felt more like a father than his biological father who was just a shadow and never had any bond with Ren. He asked to work with him on the Café explaing him his wish to learn about coffee and live a peaceful and slow life. Sojiro warmly accepted and supported him. Ren was his son in his heart and he was grateful to have him again in his life.

Ren was enjoying learn more about coffee. The flavor of the beans. The acidity. The notes. The steps in every preparation. He found peace in his heart being a barista.

But one day, Ren was making a coffee when he noticed that he was still on autopilot mode. He was just functioning but not living, the peace he felt was wrong. Something was still hurting inside and bleeding. The coffee that he was preparing was burning but he still drank it. There was something speacial about mistakes, broken things, accidents, failures that make those things appealing and lovable even if they were not good, expected or perfect. Like Akechi was. Ren didn’t notice but a tear fell from his cheek and fell into his coffee. And then a full rain on his face fell in the mug. His coffee

was salty and burnt. The flavor of the grief.

Spring arrived, the flowers were blooming, the wind was warm and gentle like a soft caress, the sun was taking the coldness of winter away. That Saturday noon, Ren decided to close some minutes earlier to enjoy the evening in silence to clean while the sun was still filling the room with a tender light. Ren was washing the dishes when the door bell sounded. It was strange since the door said "Closed".

Ren took some seconds to turn around to apologize to the person and explain that the Café was already closed.

—I’m sorry we are already clos-

Ren words were cut. He tried to make a sound but nothing was coming out. His heart stopped for a second or two. It was Akechi. He was standing there next to the door with his usual fancy coat, smiling faintly at Ren, maybe he was embarrassed to be there or scared… or just he was not knowing what to say, feel and how to explain.

Ren hands lost their strength and he dropped a cup and it broke in pieces on the floor. His breathing was feeling heavier. Ren was paralyzed until he just rushed to Akechi side and he embraced him in a loving a desperate way. Ren was squeezing him, feeling his body, his scent, his heartbeat, his breathing… his life.

No questions were asked and no word were needed between them. Akechi hugged back even more tightly.

Ren's burnt coffee was the most perfect one. The most loved one. And he was hugging him again. His beloved Akechi.

~~~~~~~~~~

Second time writing a shuake fanfic because of course they deserve this! I’m still struggling a bit to write in English but I think that I’m getting a bit better, I’m sorry for the grammar and misspellings! ;; thank you all for the support! I’m starting to call Akechi burnt coffee sorry not sorry, brain rot

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cloudcountry · 1 year

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waltz of the flowers

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones.

Summary: After getting rejected by the person that asked you for a slow dance, you leave the school dance to take a breather. That was the best decision you made all night.

Author's Comments: Reader calls Riddle Housewarden but they are the Ramshackle Prefect! It's more of a teasing title than anything. Also, I used a prompt for this one, and the gist was "your prom date stands you up" and it got me thinking about NRC school dances. Also, Riddle looks so pretty in his suitor suit!! The title is a reference to the Nutcracker, if yk yk. Also there's a tiny dash of jealous Riddle which I didn't intend but it's there now!

~~~~~

You simply adored the theme they chose for this year's annual school dance—Midnight Meadow. The walls were covered with faux flowers, streamers of yellow twirling down from the ceiling, desserts on fancy tea tables with delicate vases filled with even more flowers. You’d picked out the nicest formal wear you could afford with Crowley’s allowance to go to your very first dance. Your friends at Heartslabyul had worked to style your hair and accessorize you on Cater’s request, which was how you ended up with a messy heart and spade drawn on your right cheek. You didn’t mind their additions, though—your outfit being slightly symbolic of the friendships you’ve made at NRC wasn’t embarrassing, even if those two did draw like children.

You’d lost Grim in the crowd a while ago, his pitchfork tail swishing briefly behind him before he disappeared into the crowd, no doubt heading towards the snack table. Deciding to let Grim go, just for one night, you spent your time socializing with the friends you’d made during your time here.

Ace and Deuce were naturally attached to your hips, with Ace making snarky comments about people’s outfits and Deuce leading you through the crowds when they got a little too dense. They roped you into a few dances (even stealing some from students who looked like they wanted to ask you) even though Deuce couldn’t dance and Ace was too confident. It was fun though, and that’s really all you could have asked for.

Then the unthinkable happened.

“Ehhh, Shrimpy?” a tall shadow was cast over you and your friends as a voice cooed out a very familiar nickname.

“Hello Floyd!” you turned around quickly, delighted to have a chance to talk to one of the elusive Octavinelle students.

“You’re so cute, Shrimpy. Say, would you mind giving me your slow dance? You’re the only one I could bear it with.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest in a pout.

You laughed, unaware of Ace and Deuce’s baffled expressions.

“Sure thing. Nobody has asked me yet, so the spot is yours.” you nodded, “Also, I love the seashell details on your suit. They’re very pretty.”

“You’re so cute, I could just squeeze you right here...oh well, see you Prefect. I’m looking forward to it, eh he he.” Floyd giggled, spinning on his heel and walking away.

“He’s so weird—anyways, I think I’m going to go find Grim. The environment is a bit chaotic but if I leave him unsupervised for long—”

“Prefect! You agreed to dance with him?” Ace yelled, his hands outstretched like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well...yeah.” you blinked, “He’s not that bad, guys. Floyd likes dancing.”

“I’m not talking about the dancing skills of this guy! I’m talking about how dangerous he is!” Ace protested, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea either. Floyd’s unpredictable.” Deuce said thoughtfully, exuding far more care than Ace was.

“I promise I’ll be alright. I know how to handle myself.” you laughed, turning away from them to head to the snack table.

Song after song played after you found Grim, choosing to talk with your classmates instead of dance. You hadn’t gotten to do that much since the start of the event, your mind caught up with the bass of the music and the stellar playlist they had. Your classmates all seemed excited to see you, and you received many compliments on your formal wear and food recommendations (mostly from Kalim.)

You hoped there would be more events like this.

It was only until the slow dance that you decided to find your partner, ditching Grim once again and declining Kalim’s invitation to dance (and a short while later, Rook’s as well.) You found Floyd standing in the corner, staring off into space.

“Floyd? Do you want to dance?” you asked, gesturing to the people dancing, either solo or paired up on the floor.

“Eh? No, I don’t feel like it anymore. Go find another partner.” he huffed, turning away from you adamantly.

You blinked, feeling your heart breaking a little. You had really been looking forward to the slow dance, and you would have been happy with anyone. But of course, Floyd’s mood swings were unpredictable, and your luck had been historically bad.

“Okay. Thank you for offering though!” you waved and left him alone.

Deciding to clear your head instead of dance, you made the decision to step outside. The night air was refreshing against your cheeks as your gaze shifted towards the sky.

Staying out here for a few more minutes wouldn’t be so bad.

Five minutes into your impromptu stargazing session, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You jumped, expecting to see Ace or Deuce asking you what you were doing outside, but when you turned around you saw Riddle.

“Prefect, what are you doing outside?” he cleared his throat, his posture as straight as ever.

“I didn’t have a partner for the slow dance and honestly...I was getting a little tired.” you laughed, patting the patch of grass next to you, “Come on, Housewarden. Sit down.”

He cleared his throat, pink dusting his cheeks. Well, at least it wasn’t an angry shade of red. You didn’t want Riddle mad at you right now...or ever.

“May I have this dance?” he held his hand out, bowing his head to you.

You inhaled sharply as the breath was simultaneously sucked from your chest. He’d asked you in such a serious and regal way—not only did it make you feel special, it made you feel like royalty.

“Well...I suppose my dance partner did ditch me tonight.” you mused, placing your hand in his.

Riddle didn’t miss a beat, resting his hand on your waist as the muted song from the school drifted out into the courtyard. He held you gently, his grip firm but tender. You let him lead you through the first few steps on the dance, staring into the big gray eyes.

“Who would pass up a chance to dance with you?” Riddle murmured, completely engrossed in you already.

“You won’t like the answer!” you hummed, drawing out the last syllable of answer.

“I’m the one that asked. I swear I won’t collar them, if that's what you’re worried about.” Riddle winces, but it looks like he’s trying to smile.

Ah, the Housewarden is trying to joke with you. Cute.

“Floyd Leech.”

“What?! You were going to dance with him?” Riddle nearly yelled, his face turning that bright shade of red you were sure Ace was used to by now.

“He asked before anyone else did!” you protested, choosing to not comment on Riddle’s stumble after you revealed who you would have danced with to him.

“You could have asked someone.” he huffed, and you swore he pulled you just a little bit closer.

“Oh yeah? Do you want me to dance with Ace or Deuce instead? Because Ace would do something weird and embarrass me. I love Deuce to bits but he’d step on my feet and-”

“Prefect, do I have to spell it out for you? You should have asked me!” Riddle blurted out, his face slowly turning red.

Okay, Riddle was definitely holding you closer. It was not your imagination.

“I’m the only one in this school you can trust to actually know how to dance. I’m well versed in every form of waltz.” he murmured, brow furrowed, “And...well, I won’t step on your feet or do anything weird.”

“I know Riddle.” you hummed, tilting your head so it rested against him, “Isn’t that why I’m dancing with you and not them?”

He sucked in a breath but said nothing more. You laughed, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“You’re adorable, Housewarden.”

Just when you thought Riddle couldn’t get any redder, he proved you wrong.

#auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #fluff #dancing with riddle >>>>#his mom probably made him learn #at least hes putting it to good use sigh #fuck riddle's mom #she sucks

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loveinhawkins · 2 years

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 ao3

“You awake?” Dustin asks, much later.

Eddie rouses, blinking heavily—the movie’s over, TV off, and he can just make out Dustin lying on the opposite couch thanks to a gap in the curtains.

“No,” Eddie replies, just to be contrary. He groans quietly, his neck stiff from where he’d nodded off sitting on the floor, slumped against the bottom of the couch.

Dustin laughs—barely. He’s staring up at the ceiling. “You can…” He shrugs. “It’s more comfortable up here, if you want.”

The couches are big—there’ll be enough room for them to lie side by side. And there’s an almost hidden fragility in Dustin’s voice that kind of reminds Eddie of himself; back when he’d first moved in with Wayne and struggled with sleeping alone, forcing himself to stay awake as the shadows grew around him.

He mutters a quiet agreement. As he stands, he sees that Steve’s hand has slipped away from his wrist, left dangling off the edge of the couch. Eddie hesitates, not wanting to wake him, then slowly places Steve’s hand by his side.

Steve twitches in his sleep, his fingers briefly curling around air; he murmurs something too soft to hear, dreaming.

Eddie’s careful when he stretches out on the couch next to Dustin, mindful of his leg, but as soon as he lies down, Dustin shuffles closer until he’s half-leaning into Eddie, forehead brushing against Eddie’s chest. Eddie can feel him shivering, just a little. It isn’t cold.

“Hey. You okay?”

Dustin doesn’t answer immediately. He sighs then says, just audible, “He got lucky.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie prompts gently, when Dustin doesn’t elaborate.

Dustin screws his eyes shut. “Just… you figured it out,” he says. “If you weren’t—if you hadn’t—Steve would be…” He sighs again, shaky. “I was… I was fucking useless.”

“Dustin,” Eddie says as firmly as he can without raising his voice. “That isn’t true.”

“Steve knew something was wrong with Max,” Dustin says, “and I just stood there. And when Steve… I-I didn’t see until it—until it was too…” He presses his face further into Eddie’s chest, takes a ragged breath. “I keep thinking what kind of friend just… d-doesn’t… doesn’t see.”

Eddie shakes his head, breathes out slow and slings an arm around Dustin. “Okay, my turn,” he says, keeps his voice as steady as he can, because Dustin’s words sound dangerously close to I’m a bad person.

“You know what I thought, that first day I saw you, in the cafeteria? Wanna know the first thing I noticed? Mm, apart from the Weird Al T-shirt.”

Dustin laughs, choked and wet.

“I was talking shit last week. Wasn’t thinking that you looked like a little lost sheep—I mean, you kinda did, but that wasn’t my first thought.”

Dustin gives a questioning, “Hmm?”

“Perks of getting held back, I guess: you get good at reading folks, y’know, getting a sense of what sorta person they are. Saves a lotta time, means you can cut through the bullshit.” Eddie squeezes Dustin’s shoulders. “And you? I could just tell oh, this is a good kid. Like, I didn’t know any of the shit you went through, but I knew you’d go to bat for Mike just from the way you were talking to him, hell, you’d do it for anyone if they needed it. Shit, man, you didn’t need to show up and help me. Could’ve just left me to rot at Rick’s, would’ve given you more time to stop the end of the fucking world.”

Dustin makes a small noise of protest. “I couldn’t have just left you there,” he says vehemently. “I knew there was no way you could’ve hurt…”

Eddie smiles through a lump in his throat. “No-one’s ever fought for me like that before, man, ‘cept for Wayne.”

“Get used to it,” Dustin says. “Party member privileges.”

Eddie chuckles. “See? You better listen to me, cause you’re a good friend, Dustin Henderson, the damn best. You hear me?” He feels Dustin give a tiny nod, and he clicks his tongue quietly. “Nope. You gotta say it back.”

Dustin groans. “Dude, you’re a loser.”

“I can’t hear you…”

Dustin sighs, but it’s less heavy this time. “I’m a… I’m a good friend,” he says in a reluctant mumble.

“Mm, minus one point for lack of conviction.”

Dustin snorts. “You sound like the casting director at Drama Club.”

Eddie clutches at his heart. “I take it back, you’re fucking awful. That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Dustin grins, eyes closed. “Shut up.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, and Eddie thinks that he’s fallen asleep, has closed his own eyes himself, when he hears Dustin whisper, “He’ll be okay, right?”

Eddie opens his eyes. He looks down, sees that Dustin has one hand clutching onto his shirt. He runs a hand through Dustin’s hair affectionately. Then he remembers feeling the shards of glass through it when they were huddled on the bathroom floor together, and his heart aches.

“Yeah, of course, man,” he says. “He’s got you, hasn’t he?”

There’s a nudge against the back of Eddie’s hand: Dustin’s pinky, hooking around his own.

“He’s got you, too, right?” Dustin says.

Eddie squeezes their pinkies closer together, and when he makes the promise, the words slip out without him even consciously thinking about it. “Yeah. Always.”

They fall asleep soon after, Dustin tucked into Eddie’s side.

The first thing that wakes Eddie is the smell of pancake batter being fried.

The second is light-hearted bickering.

“Dude, watch it, it’s gonna burn!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a supervisor, how does Robin even work with you?”

“Eyes on the stove, Henderson—seriously, that’s my good pan.”

“Do you know how old you sound right now? My good pan.”

“Well, it is! I saved up good money for that.”

“Literally ageing right in front of me.”

There’s a sudden, ominous sizzle. Eddie cracks his eyes open, turns his head towards the kitchen. Steve is sat at the bar, leg propped up on a second stool, while Dustin stands at the stove with flour in his hair. From the looks of things, he’s just put ice-cream directly into the pan.

Steve gapes. “Dude.”

“It’s meant to be like that!”

“In what world?”

“I’m gonna put another pancake on top, and then it’ll be like a sandwich.”

“Uh-huh. What you’re actually making is a pancake with ice-cream soup monstrosity.”

“I’ll have one monstrosity, please,” Eddie says, sitting up with a yawn; and Steve looks over at him, laughing in surprise.

Eddie wants to bottle the sound.

Steve does a double take when he moves back to his couch, but he doesn’t say anything. Eddie follows his gaze—not to the cabinet of movies, but the cabinet next to it.

The cassette tapes.

The third row is in disarray. Eddie recognises the purple sleeve of Hounds of Love, that it’s half-falling out of the cabinet.

Dustin notices them looking, too, and he picks up the tape, almost guiltily, sets it on the coffee table near Steve. The case is cracked, jagged lines running down the plastic. It makes Eddie think of the gates.

“Sorry, Steve,” Dustin says. “I forgot—we were gonna tidy it all up, fix it, but—”

“Dustin, it’s fine,” Steve says with feeling. “Seriously, don’t—”

Steve falls silent when Dustin inhales, as if to prepare himself.

“When you guys—um, left, it was…” Dustin hesitates. “Bad.”

Steve’s eyes are wide, shining with regret. “God, I’m—”

“Max’s tape stopped working,” Dustin goes on, like he’s worried about losing the words if he stalls for a moment longer. “So, we—we were gonna put yours in, but… Max and Lucas, they were… arguing.”

Dread creeps into the room; Eddie can feel it reverberating in his chest.

Steve swallows like he can feel it, too, like the heaviness of it is settling into his lungs. “What about?”

“About…” Dustin looks away. “About whether they should play the tape, or…”

Eddie has to sit down. “Jesus Christ.”

Steve looks nauseous. “Shit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, shuts his eyes. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, they—when they were, um… the tape fell, and…” Dustin gestures to the cracks. “Lucas, he said he was gonna come over and replace it—”

“He doesn’t need to do that,” Steve says. There’s a fire behind his eyes—anger, regret. Fear.

“Uh, I think it was just an excuse so he could see you,” Dustin says. “To… talk.”

Steve sighs, short and sharp. “He doesn’t need to—if he buys—if he does that, I’ll be pissed. You got your walkie? Good. Tell him that, Henderson. He doesn’t need an excuse to come talk to me.”

“Sure,” Dustin says, looks a little thrown—he roots around the blankets on his couch until he retrieves his walkie. “I’ll, um.” He jerks his head upstairs. “I’ll go and call him.”

As Dustin leaves the room, there’s more of a pronounced unsteadiness to his footsteps; it reminds Eddie a little of how Wayne walks when his hip’s troubling him.

Steve waits until Dustin has climbed the stairs, then asks, lips barely moving, “How did he hurt his leg? He never…” He sighs again, shaking his head. “He never told me.”

Eddie rises, moves across to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. His hand lingers there instinctively, rubbing circles for a few seconds.

“When the gates… he found a bike, in your garage.” He feels Steve stiffen under his touch. “He went to the hospital, and on the way, he must’ve… fallen.”

Steve’s eyes close. He lets out a shallow breath, lifting his hand and placing it over Eddie’s. He bows his head, and Eddie thinks suddenly of a shaken soldier, rallying before a battle.

Steve briefly tightens his hold on Eddie’s hand, then lets go.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #eddie and dustin #steve and dustin #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steve x eddie

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byhees · 1 year

Text

how you get the girl ┊ 심재윤 series

chapter 000 : lit slander!!

previous ・ masterlist ・ next

tucking his phone in the pocket of his pants, jake slumps into the stiff, plastic seat, an elbow naturally dropping to the table surface, as though a makeshift pillow for him to rest his head on; he hates literature… loathes it actually, with a strong, fiery, crackling passion.

it’s not anything personal towards the subject or anything, it’s just that he doesn’t get it— doesn’t get why certain sentences translate to certain things, all that jazz.

as the teacher by the front of the classroom rambles on and on about how “by my troth!” means a particular english phrase— he has no clue as to what— he only resorts to leaning back in his seat, weight pressing against the uncomfortable backrest. maybe languages aren’t my forte? yeah, that’s definitely it.

and it’s only out of plain boredom and hopelessness that he glances over to his seatmate; maybe it’s the fact that you’re writing down notes with such an ease, it looks like you’re genuinely enjoying every word that flies out of your literature teacher’s mouth.

with an, oh so, courageous spirit, he outstretches his arm to poke you on the shoulder, his fingertip meeting the material of your school blazer; your head whips around to meet his eyes almost instantly, your black pen still in grip. and holy guacamole. you’re pretty. pretty in a way that pretty seems insufficient.

your eyes are pretty— in fact, they’re twinkling, glimmering so bright that they actually put the ceiling light overhead, to shame. and i mean, how often can you say that? and your lashes; they’re so pretty… that isn’t weird to think, right? probably. it’s just that they frame your pretty eyes so prettily, and�� that’s a word vomit of pretty, isn’t it..?

oh god, the way they’re fluttering with such grace, and casting soft shadows on your skin.. and your nose… it’s breathtaking, mesmerising, captivating, absolutely ethereal— yes, he is, in fact, describing a nose; it’s so delicate and it harmonises perfectly with your features. are you even real? are you, perhaps, computer generated?? is that offensive to say? i mean, you look surreal in the bestest way possible.

“hello..?” your tiny smile drops into a thin line, brows digging into your skin as you stare at the flabbergasted boy in front of you— it’s been a whole minute, or two, of plain silence, and you’re not certain on how much more time he’ll need to gather his thoughts, and actually coalesce his questions into, hmm don’t know… actual words??

“alright, let’s move onto the next act, shall we?” oh my god, is he pondering about what he should have for lunch or what?? what’s with the slightly ominous gawking? is he planning to launch his pencil your way? is he contemplating on what angle he should fling it at? … do you have something lodged in between your teeth..?

heaving a heavy sigh, you narrow your eyes at him, and his pair of unreadable ones look back. “hello, earth to…” you pause, gaze averting to look at the name-tag by the right corner of his uniform, “jaeyun..?”

and with another second of unnecessarily drawled out silence, you turn back to face the whiteboard, a whole bunch of new annotations smacking you in the face; well, if jaeyun hadn’t taken his sweet time to stare at a very potential piece of vegetable stuck between your teeth, you would’ve been right on track…

even whilst the teacher begins to go on some in-depth spiel on how one character actually has some double life being an absolute jerk, jake's heart continues to pound so crazily fast against his chest. even whilst he discreetly pulls out his phone, tucking the little device under the desk, his heart continues to thump, and thump, and thump.

précis › what’s the best way to get dating advice? well, after discovering a revolutionary relationship-help site, jake isn’t constantly troubled by the question anymore; it’s a simple thing, really… except for the fact that the admin he’s been consulting, is actually his campus crush, who he’s been using these corny pickup lines on, and he just doesn’t realise it yet.

warnings › none

word count › 600

permanent taglist! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws series taglist! @flwrshee @okwons @stories-inbetween-the-stars @jlheon @rikisly @txtistheloml networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

©byhees

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cyborg-franky · 2 years

Note

Heyyy, could you please do headcanons for Ace with a crush on male!reader ? I mean, how would he deal with the fact that he love a boy, how would he act around him, etc,

Thank you in advance :)

Suuure I hope this is what you had in mind, I always headcanon Ace as being insanely Bi and being pretty open about it anyway.

Ace is pretty open about who he likes and that’s regardless of how that person identifies.

He’s very open-minded and doesn’t bat an eye when people are in same-sex relationships or when people are a certain way. He likes people for them.

But, this is the first time he, himself has been attracted to a guy.

It hits him like a ton of bricks, spending time with you, enjoying your company and just falling for you.

He spends a few nights awake and miserable as he contemplates what this means.

He’s not annoyed or upset he likes another man, he just never considered that about himself.

Sighing into his hands as he stares at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance across the planks.

Regardless of coming to terms with being bi he still needs to process that he has feelings for someone, to wrestle the nagging voices in his head about if he’s good enough for you or not.

Or even if you feel the same way.

In self-acceptance is there a road to rejection?

The entire week he is weird around you, unable to make eye contact or spend time alone.

It’s strange and frankly, annoying.

You corner him one lunchtime, he’s stuffing food into his mouth, which would keep him in place long enough to confront him and his strange behavior.

“Ace, got a minute?” You asked and he gulps the food he was chewing, eyes widening as you sit across from him, but he nods, a pause for you to carry on.

“Why have you been so strange this week? Did I do something?” You asked, brows furrowed, looking sad, and worried and that breaks his heart.

He itches his cheek and looks over at you, for just a second, staring at his empty plate instead.

“I just had a lot of thinking I needed to do,” He sighs and you watch him fidget, he only gets like this when something is wrong when something is on his mind.

“You can tell me anything.” You said to him with a smile and reached across the table, offering your hand, which he shyly takes, fingers resting on yours, unsure.

“I like you and I know I’m also a guy and that could be something you aren’t interested in but.. I thought you should know..”

You laugh and he wrinkles his nose, glaring at you before you hold his retreating hand tighter, shaking your head. “I’m not laughing at you Ace, I’m just relieved nothing wrong.. I like you too, I like you a lot.” You admit and feel his arm hand holds yours back, seeing the confused look on his face change into an unsure smile.

“Yeah?” “Yes!”

You squeeze his hand and his shy smile turns into a bright grin.

Ace found himself and a boyfriend in the same week.

#sfw #male reader #m reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portugas d ace x reader #ace op #ace op x reader #ace op x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #ace one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x yn #ace x reader #ace x you #ace x yn

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burning-academia-if · 9 months

Note

going for my go-to ROs🤭🤭

Rook + Snowball fight (I think this will be cute!!)

Lars + Fairy lights (yes, I'm a sucker for soft Lars🤤😩)

Btw, happy holidays em!! Hope you had a good one!!<33

Happy Holidays and New Years!

Here's Lars + Fairy lights and Rook + Snowball fight

Lars + Fairy lights

“Is…is that a gift?” You sit perched at the edge of your bed with your legs criss-crossed. Seeing Lars in your dorm is weird. He exists in meeting rooms and lectures and blurred out in the dark of night. Not in a cramped room where the ceiling suddenly didn’t look like it was tall enough.

Said gift wasn’t wrapped or anything. It’s why you knew what it was. Fairy lights. You’d been mentioning getting them forever, but passed on buying some every time. Lars probably got them more as a gift for himself, so he wouldn’t have to hear you bring it up for the millionth time.

He eyed the room, and you hoped he wasn’t judging it too harshly, “For Christmas. Where do you want them?”

Lars and Christmas didn’t go together. He had the frost of deep winter, not the cheer of any holiday. It took your brain too long to process what he’d said before you arrived at a halting conclusion, “I didn’t get you anything—”

“You’ll make it up to me later.” You…didn’t like the sound of that. “Where do you want them? I have somewhere to be soon.”

“Oh, um. Around the desk, maybe?” Though you scrambled to your feet to help, his raised eyebrow and blank stare made you sit right back down. Not sure what to do with yourself, your hands folded themselves in your lap. It was the pose a kindergartener took during story time. His smirk was telling enough.

As always, he worked quickly and efficiently. Although you called out instructions, you mostly watched. It didn’t take long before they were set up, a steady glow now warming your desk space. Throughout it, Lars’ expression had softened.

When he stepped back from his work to look at you, you couldn’t read him, “Well?”

“It’s…it’s pretty. Thank you.” He nodded once, looking ready to leave as quickly as he’d arrived. “Wait, what do you want?”

You had no idea what to give someone like Lars. He never mentioned wanting anything, but he had said you’d make it up to him. He paused, thinking. The silence was always his thing and you pressed your lips together to stop yourself from saying something you’d regret.

Finally, he said, “I’ll think on it.”

“But—”

“I have to get going anyway.” It must have been the new lights, which made his features softer. The warm glow eased away the normal edges heightened by hard shadows or bright lights. For a second, you almost thought he wanted to stay around you just a little longer.

You shook the thought away, “Right. Yeah. I’ll walk you out. Thank you again.”

Even with him gone, you still felt his presence. You traced the way your new lights dangled, and wondered if you’d ever be able to figure out Lars and what he even felt towards you.

Rook + Snowball Fight

“You were never a good friend. How could you make me a human shield?” You shook off your jacket, where half melted snow slid off in a steady trail. Ahead of you, also brushing off a collection of snow, was your one and only childhood friend and the menace himself.

Glancing back, cheeks red from the cold and bringing out his usually dull freckles, Rook’s grin was grand, “Who else was going to be my partner in crime?”

“One of your other millions of friends.” Your voice was flat. His grin only grew wider.

The series of events was you’d been walking back to the dorms. Right before you could enter said building, however, a person had skidded to a halt in front of you. Rook, obviously. Shouts were following him and you’d seen the decision in his eyes, probably before he even realized what decision he’d came to. And so, you’d been pelted with snowballs and dragged into a snowball fight which Rook had started. Rather a fight, it’d been a war. It always astounded you just how Rook seemed to know everyone on campus, and how it felt like every single one was after him. By the time it was over, both of you were made of ice and draped in snow.

He reached out and ruffled your hair, causing whatever remaining snow to fall off and splat on the dorm floor. You scowled at him, but his expression remained light, “You’re the only one I trust.”

“Who knows. Maybe when you walk out the dorm tomorrow I’ll be waiting with an ambush.”

“You wouldn’t.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest, spinning away from you. “Have all these years meant nothing to you?”

“Have they meant anything to you?” You asked back, before a shudder ran through you. The chill wasn’t quiet going away. You and Rook’s downfall had actually involved both of you collapsed on the ground, breathing hard from running around. Your clothes were damp, and it was making it impossible to get warm again.

Despite having turned away from you, it was like he could tell, “They mean the world to me. Which is why we should hurry up so you can change clothes. The last thing I need is for you to die from the fucking plague.”

“You get the plague from rats, not from the cold.”

“Actually, the plague came from the fleas on the rats, which the rats gave to us—”

“Congrats on remembering tenth grade history.” Another shudder zipped up your spin and this time Rook was turned towards you. He frowned lightly, and you had another sarcastic remark at the ready that was quickly whisked away by him promptly unzipping his jacket and all but throwing it at you.

You scrambled to catch it, “Take that until we get back to my place. You left some spare clothes there.”

Leaving a spare change of clothes at each other’s dorms had become a just-in-case kind of thing over the past few months. You hadn’t really thought much about it. But hearing him vocalize it made your brain imitate a record scratch. Old feelings of being young and dumb hit you. Specifically, long vanished feelings of being fifteen and almost having a crush on Rook. Almost.

You shrugged the jacket on, frowning the whole time. It smelled like him, but you weren’t about to acknowledge that to yourself either. So maybe you had spent the past few months stopping old feelings from surfacing. Ever since you started at Vales Grove, it felt like old times, always being in each other’s atmospheres.

The two of you in the snow, breathing hard, with Rook laughing and yelling at his friends to stop, had sent you back. Maybe you’d been staring when his eyes darted to you, crinkled a bit from his wide grin. Strands of hair had fallen in his face and you’d had to fight back the urge to push it back. It felt like the last straw.

Mercifully, it didn’t take long to get back to his dorm. You slipped into the bathroom to change, throwing the jacket back at Rook before you did so. You needed a moment.

You hadn’t gotten over your old crush. It made you grimace. Of all the times to notice, it was during a stint of his usual mayhem. Not to mention him using you as a human shield. You couldn’t fathom how many snowballs you’d been pelted with. And yet, when the two of you had gone down he’d thrown an arm out to cushion your fall. You’d been pressed close to his side as a result, his heartbeat loud in your ears. For a second, it felt like you belonged there.

With a steady gaze, you stared at yourself in the mirror. This was fine. It’d be fine. If Rook hadn’t noticed when you were teens, he certainly wouldn’t notice now. You kept telling yourself that as you walked back out.

#em answers #ch: rook #ch: lars #christmas special #unedited #aaaaand with that all the xmas day prompts are done!#sorry this last one took a little bit the holidays have been busier then expected lol

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guardian-of-fun-times · 1 year

Text

❄️Rise of the Guardians: Closer to You [Jack Frost X Reader]❄️

The evening sun cast long shadows on the ground illuminating the snow below. The slanting rays of the setting sun gave a warm orange tinge to the sky as you gazed out the grand window for a short while.

You heard a slight tapping against the hard wood floor of his bare feet. You found Jack wandering down the hall and met up with him. "I'm starting to feel sleepy." You told the winter spirit. "My schedule has been off since I abruptly stop my medication. My doctor cancelled our phone appointment since he had an emergency leave, so I'm stuck without them for a while." You stifled a yawn, turned to Jack, smiled, and took his hand. "But I could sure use a cuddle buddy tonight."

The pale crescent moon began to shine like a silvery claw in the falling night sky. The occasional clanking of toys being made in the nearby workshop broke the silence.

"I'll be your cuddle buddy. You can even fall asleep while we cuddle. I'll be here with you, don't worry about it." He let go of your hand and put his arms around you. "Do you want me to sing you a lullaby? I can if you'd like?"

"Okay." You smile sheepishly. "We can stay in my room. I have a Borealis light. I hope you don't mind. Oh, I didn't know you can sing. That'd be nice actually."

Oh, of course I wouldn't mind staying in your room! It would be a pleasure. I'll make you feel comfortable as I can. And my singing isn't really good, but I hope you'll like it anyway." He smiles back at you. "And is the Borealis light those kinds of star lights that shine on the ceiling? Because I love those!"

"Yes, it is! You said excitedly. "It glows different colors too. Would you like to crawl into the covers with me? I'm weird about blankets. I need them even when it's hot. It's a comfort thing."

"I don't mind at all. I like to feel comfortable, so I understand. So I'll go with you." He holds you gently and leads you to your room. "What color do you want for the star light tonight, my dear?"

"Ummm." You hesitated. Blue! It's my favorite color. "Oh, I've got to change into my PJs. I don't have any that'll fit you. I'm sorry." You reached your door and opened it for him. "Well, here's my room."

As he follows you to your room and see the room for the first time, I can't help but smile and admire all the beauty and the coziness. "It's a wonderful room. North did an amazing job!" He playfully nips at your nose. "Don't worry about the PJs, I'll be fine."

He moves in closer and corners you. You're now trapped between him and the wall. "I've never had a guy in my room before so this is my first time." You stuttered, your face growing immensely hot.

He laughs. "You're very cute when you blush, you know? It's okay. I don't mind being the first. Actually, it's a huge honor for me." He looks deep into your eyes, a huge grin playing across his face. "You're not going to be needing these." He chuckled, tugging on your shirt.

Jack was drop dead gorgeous and that was the truth. He was a total sweetheart that much you could tell, soft spoken, helpful, smart, handsy, every quality that made his personality attractive. Though, you weren’t sure if that’s what this could turn into.

You escaped his grasp and quickly dive into the blankets, hiding inside. "Come find me!"

"Sounds fun! Wait for me!" He immediately removes his hoodie and belt, leaving his pants unzipped.

He starts trying to search with his hands. When he finds you, he smiles and gives you a small peck on the lips. "Found you!"

You giggled and placed your hands around his neck.

"You're adorable when you hide like this. You look so cute. You make me so happy. Truly and completely. You're just perfect. I love you."

Before you can say anything, he’s kissing you softly, hoping to convey his feelings more through touch. You hum softly, relaxing against him as he rolls over, resting on top of you. You trail your hands from his hips to his chest, raking your nails gently down his skin. You suck in a sharp breath as he kisses down your neck, his hands sliding up the shirt, sending goosebumps along your skin. As he pushes up the shirt, exposing your skin, wanting to see you with fresh eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, sitting up and taking the time to really look at you. As he stares at you, you almost feel self-conscious, making you want to cover yourself, but he’s lowering himself back down, placing kisses on your skin. You relax the further he goes, his hands reaching underneath you to unclasp your bra.

He slowly moves it out from underneath you, setting it somewhere to the side, his hands caressing each breast in hand. The sensation of pleasure rolls through you, and your back arches as you close your eyes. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, but the moment his tongue laps at one of your nipples, your fingers are tangling in his hair, a breathy moan escaping your lips. His other hand teases your other nipple gently, rolling it in between his fingers, loving the way you squirmed. His ocean eyes are on your face, taking in your features. Before long, he's switching to the other nipple, palming your other breast. He groans against your skin, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts. The lower he gets, the faster your heart beats. He nudges your thighs apart, his fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear. His cease in movement causes you to open your eyes. He’s waiting for you to give the okay. With a small nod, he’s swiftly removing your underwear in a matter of seconds.

Nudging your legs further apart, you hold your breath as he kisses your inner thighs, squeezing lightly. His eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he tastes you for the first time. A squeak leaves your mouth as his tongue dips between your folds. Your fingers curl into the sheets, eyes closing as you rock into his face. “Oh…” You moan, sucking in a sharp breath. Jack takes both of your legs, lifting them over his shoulders, angling your lower body upward. His tongue laps against your clit, and he slides a finger into your depths, your answering whimper leading him to continue. He keeps his free hand against your hips, keeping you still as you started to squirm. “Oh fuck…” You rasp, your hands now moving towards his head, either in an effort to keep him there or push him away, you weren’t sure. His humming against your skin makes you shudder, and he slips another finger inside, gently pumping them forward. Your legs are shaking now, toes curling, and your fingers tighten in his hair.

He then starts this sucking motion with his mouth, and you can’t help the quiet wail that leaves your lips. Some part of you prays to God no one could hear you. Your sexual experience wasn’t anything to brag about. With Jack still holding your hip, the friction you wanted so badly was being withheld, and it was frustratingly pleasurable. Your head swims as you lock your legs behind his head. His fingers dig into your flesh in response. “Please…” You breathe out, not sure what you were asking for, but you were asking for something nonetheless. You could feel the pressure building in your body, and your soft moans and curses were uncontainable the closer he brought you to ecstasy. Most men at this point would change the rhythm to a faster pace, but Jack? He continued with this languid motion of flicking his tongue and pumping his fingers like time didn’t exist. Your thighs were practically vibrating over his shoulders, you’re breaths wispy and ragged.

He loved it.

“Jack…” You pant, your eyes screwing shut, white flashes dancing across your dark vision. You were this close. The more he licks and sucks on your flesh, the more of you he tastes, the closer you were to losing your mind. He then replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in small circles, his tongue plundering back into your slick, wet, folds, intent to get all he could. That was your undoing. He finally lets up on your hip, and you rock into his face as your orgasm takes over every part of your body. With your legs clenched around his neck, it kept him there, licking everything you had to offer and more. He didn’t care that you practically soaked his face and the sheets, he was on a high just knowing he got you there. He takes one final lick from the very crevice of your pussy to the top, before easing up, gently unclasping your shaking legs. He kisses each thigh in passing as he lowers your legs down. Your fingers had finally released his hair and if he were human, you’d probably have ripped a few chunks out. You still shudder as he kisses back up your now tired body, before taking your lips, and you moan softly, though you had no energy to do anything more. You can taste yourself, and it was mix between a salty and somewhat of a tart taste if you could describe it. It wasn’t a gross thing you’d think it would be.

He releases your lips to breathe, and your eyes are barely open at this point, but you’re able to see the satisfied look on his face before you close your eyes completely. His frigid body leaves the bed, leaving you even more cold for a moment and you hear water running before he’s back in a minute if not less, wiping between your legs gently. Not wanting to disturb you further, Jack sets the warm towelette on the back of his chair, pulling the covers from under you on top, nestling beside you as you curl into his side once he settles. He kisses your forehead as you drift off into sleep, his arm settling around you.

It was nearly midnight, and the night sky was picturesque. A black to navy gradient was the backdrop for a full moon; the night sky so clear you could almost see every crater. The moon, a glowing yellowy white, loomed large, surrounded by an ethereal glow.

"I'm ready for bed." You snuggled him close.

"Good night, love. Sleep tight. I'll be right here if you need me. I'll be your protector. I'll be your shoulder to cry on. No matter the problem, I'll be right here for you. You're my rock. My world. My everything. I'll always love you. So, sleep tight and dream of me."

"How can I not dream of you? You're already in my every thought." You laughed. "Goodnight Jack."

"Sweet dreams. I'll always dream of you, too. I'll always love you, forever."

#rise of the guardians #rotg #jack frost #rotg matters #guardian #rotg fandom #rotg jack frost #guardian of fun #midnight drabble #oneshot #rotg fanfiction #smut fanfiction

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chthonion · 10 months

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2, 16, and/or 25 for the writer's asks, if you like? Thanks!

Thank YOU!

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

There's a lot of payoff that I'm really looking forward to in part 3 of Your Shadow Rising. The final arc of that fic is going to be, like...SO satisfying to me personally, if I can do it right.

...fingers crossed on whether or not I can do it right.

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

I guess it's not NEW, but honestly, posting longfic still feels new to me! I've been writing original fiction almost exclusively for like...two-thirds of my life, at this point, and that has been a hobby that operates almost completely in isolation, with only occasional reads from very close friends. It is such an absolutely wild experience to get comments? From people I don't even know? Who think my writing is good even though they don't even know me??? I've been posting for a while now but it still feels new and bizarre and exciting because, as referenced above: two thirds of my life!

More recently, however: I've been playing around with a story concept recently, and I've decided to keep it entirely on paper for as long as I can, as an experiment. Usually I write almost completely via typing, because my thoughts move fast, but with my weird eye curse making screens difficult, I thought it was high time I experimented with longhand.

...not sure it's working, but a worthy experiment nonetheless.

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

Somewhere around two-thirds of the way through a long project, there often comes a moment, for me, where the story grabs me by the throat and does something wildly unexpected that is nonetheless a perfect culmination of a bunch of things that I've been leading up to, except I did not realize I was leading up to them, and in retrospect it was fundamentally necessary to everything I've been building, but I did not plan for it at all and am utterly blindsided.

It's a euphoric, exhilarating experience every time. (Even when it also ends with me lying on the couch staring at the ceiling and going AAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK)

...that moment for the Harrowing, incidentally, will probably fall somewhere around chapter 40, and Maedhros is involved.

#ask game #Thank you for the ask!#Chthonion answers questions #Your Shadow Rising to Meet You

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angelmichelangelo · 1 year

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hi hi hi!!! i love your writing!!! for some prompts 12!mikey and his untalked anger issues or ronin mikey and the babies!! (the peepaw fic killed me/pos)

thank you so much 🤧❤️ !! i am always up for some more peepaw and babies fic since they totally have my heart but for now have some 2012!mikey and raph brotherly bonding !! hope you enjoy :) it’ll also go up on ao3 later :P

His anger had towered over his other personalities, dwarfing them in its long, dark shadow.

Baby blues had disappeared leaving just the whites of his eyes, a predatory instinct reserved usually for the offense, face pinched into an ugly frown, it’s all Raph can picture as he lays there on his cot, staring up at the slope of the ceiling of his quarter of the ship he’s called home for the past few weeks.

He turns over just as his stomach does the same, empty, it gnaws around its own edges, a slick feeling of nausea creeping up inside him liking a slow rising tide, Raph ignores it, turning over a second time.

Today had been weird, even in their terms. And whilst it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d experienced saddling up and psyche hopping with his brothers; he’d already done the whole dream sharing thing back at the farmhouse which felt like a lifetime ago — but this hadn’t been a dream.

This had been the inside of Mikey’s head. Inside his actual memories and mind.

He swallows thickly, the lump that presses hard in the back of his throat fails to budge. He turns back onto his shell again. There’s the same old ceiling. The one that he’s slowly growing used to. The pit in his gut grows longer the harder he stares, white noise floods his ears.

He’d been… so angry. That look, the way it had towered over the rest. Raph knows that feeling all too well. Like familiar unfamiliar ceilings, it causes him to turn over again, squeezing his eyes shut to rid him of the images that swarm his head like a hive of angry bees.

Laying here he realizes does nothing to quell that feeling, so he flings the blanket from off his legs, swinging them off the side of the cot and striding across the room with heavy footsteps.

He makes his way to the bridge, only because it’s one of the rare places on this ship that’s crammed with enough people already. In the daytime — not that space really has a daytime according to Donnie, the hub of their temporary home is full of all the people Raph has left in his life. And as much as he appreciates them, it can feel a little crowded at times.

At nighttime when Fugitoid shuts himself off for recharging, that particular room found itself for good old lonesome company.

The door swooshes open, cool air greets his skin and he takes one step forward before stopping short.

Well. This room usually found itself for good old, lonesome company.

Mikey is there on the step leading to the window that covers most of the front half of the ship. Outside is a swirl of blues and purples, painted across a dark, almost starless sky. He’s motionless, almost as if he hadn’t heard Raphael come in at all, knees drawn up under his chin, his voice is quiet, sleepy around the edges like he was either fighting off sleep or perhaps recently emerged from it, he doesn’t turn to face him when he says,

“You know Donnie told me that some stars you’re able to actually touch.” Raph stays where he is, unmoving. “They’re burning but not hot enough to hurt you. Isn’t that weird?”

He turns then, his trademarked lopsided grin plastered across his face, his bandana hangs loose around his neck which offers the opportunity to show off the dark circles that are heavy around the underneath of his eyes, that perhaps proved that there had been no such sleep in the equation after all.

“Space is weird, Mikey,” he says gruffly, dropping himself into the space beside him. “Donnie could tell me that the moon is made of French cheese and it wouldn’t bother me.”

Mikey has his head hung low now, as if trying to hide himself in shadows that weren’t really there. Maybe it was just a ninja instinct, Raph isn’t sure, but he doesn’t miss the way his brothers face goes tight as he forces a smile across his face.

“French cheese, huh?” He says, voice strained to give the allusion of a laugh. “That’s some fancy moon you’ve got there.”

“Yeah well.” Raph says bluntly. He rubs a three fingered hand around the edge of his jaw just to give his hands something to do. “We deserve at least something nice, don’t we?”

Mikey tries to laugh again, a sound akin to just a huff of breathy air escaping him, his ducks his head down again, pressing his chin against his bare knees.

“Hey,” Raph says after a few long seconds of silence. “You okay? After today?”

Mikey’s head snaps up like rubber, and there’s that grin again, all wide and beaming like he was trying to chase off the shadows all by himself.

“Dude. We’re used to this by now, right? Being inside my literal brain isn’t really groundbreaking for us anymore. I mean… look at where we are.”

He turns to face the glass screen again, eyes flicker back and forth as he takes in almost every inch of the view before him.

Raph sucks in a breath. He shifts a little where he’s sat down.

“Yeah I know,” he says deliberately slow. “But you start brushing off every strange instance then it kinda isn’t good for you. It all blurs together and then when you’re not actually okay…”

He trails off awkwardly, his words thinning out where they hang in the air between them, Mikey looks back around at him, those big blue eyes blink once, and then the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in the faintest of smiles.

“Gosh, Raph. You’re startin’ to sound like Dee,” he teases.

Raph feels his face pull itself into a frown. “Yeah and you’re sounding a lot like Leo when you do all this pretending to be okay shtick.” He presses.

Mikey snorts. It’s dismissive and the way he turns his head back around Raph knows that he’s not going to give in so easily.

“We’re brothers, Raph. Aren’t we supposed to be like, a little alike?”

His voice is small and quiet, and he’s gone back to studying the stars when Raph exhales, all long and slow and complentative.

“I guess,” he replies. “More ways than one, perhaps.”

It takes Mikey a little longer to respond to that one, whether on purpose or not Raph can’t be sure; perhaps he’s been pondering the same thoughts that have kept Raph awake, or maybe they’re finally starting to click together like bits of a missing jigsaw puzzle to finally show the entire picture, his eyes are glassy when they finally reach Raph’s.

“M’still better looking than you,” he mumbles. A shadow of a smile touches at his face but does nothing more than just pass by. “So there’s one thing we don’t have in common.”

Raph frowns. “Mike. You know what we saw, right?” He’s being entirely serious with him right now. He thinks about landing a hand on his shoulder, just to ground him, like it might make more sense in the context of their conversation because it feels like something Leo or Sensei might do, but Raph can’t stop himself from shoving his hands under his legs, just to stop them from twitching with all the nervous energy that’s built up inside of him like hot electricity.

Confusion flickers across Mikey’s face only momentarily. “Yeah?” He questions. He stretches one leg out in front of him, still resting his head on one knee like a damn puppy. “If anything I’m a little embarrassed still. Invasion much.”

Raph looks away. The swirl of dark space continues to slowly drift past the window, little specks of silver light dotted across the velvety dark, and Raph is reminded of the first time he remembers seeing the night sky, peering up through a storm drain with each of his siblings pressed in close to catch a glimpse, all whilst Splinter had ushered them on, little fingers reaching up and up…

“You know you could have talked to me,” Raph says once he’s eventually found his voice again. “You know I would have understood.”

“Talked to you?” Mikey blinks. “About what?”

And maybe he’s being obtuse on purpose but Raph doesn’t care. He whips his head up and forces himself to look towards his brother.

“All that anger? Mike? That anger that made up like, a fifth of your personality? Jesus, bro, don’t pretend with me Mikey. Please don’t.”

He expects Mikey to shrink in on himself; curl back up into the ball that Raph more or less found him in, bury his face back into his legs and just push him away — because that’s just what Mikey often does when confronted. That’s why Raph is finding all this hard to swallow. Mikey isn’t a confrontational person. That’s Raph’s thing.

But instead he pushes his other leg out, stretching out like he was basking under a summer sun, he looks relaxed as he lets a long, heavy exhale breeze past his lips.

“Remember when we were like, eight, and Sensei got sick?”

And of course Raph remembers. It’d been a harsh winter, like most winters when living in a sewer, and their father had come down with a bad bout of the flu after spending most of those cold, cold days and nights from shielding his sons from such a thing.

Those tedious stretch of days had been spent bringing in bowls of soup that would be half spilled across the floor from the kitchen to Splinter’s room as well an abundance of get well cards that were all color and crayon and although their father had seemed fine to them, he had made it clear as to what to do if he didn’t get better.

Raph swallows thickly, his throat feeling tight suddenly. He misses him. He wishes that he didn’t know what to do without him just so they wouldn’t have to go without him.

He nods despite himself, unsure of what his brother was to say next.

“And remember when Donnie wanted to sneak up to the surface for medicine but him and Leo that killer fight about it?” He’s still looking out towards the vast emptiness that awaits them just the other side of the window. He casually hooks an ankle over the other.

“Yeah,” Raph croaks. “They were just scared though,” he adds. “None of us really knew what to do.”

Mikey hums in agreement to this. He’s silent for a moment, as if perhaps carefully conducting his next sentence, which in itself is a little unsettling. That really isn’t a Mikey thing at all.

“We were eight,” he finally speaks, and this time his voice is more raw, buckling under a weight of heavy emotion, and even in the low light, he can still make out the glimmer of wet behind his eyes. “We were eight years old, Raph, and all we wanted was some medicine for our dad.”

This time Raph does reach a hand out, placing it on Mikey’s shoulder, he’s ready to offer him some kind of support that he’s keeping in his back pocket for moments like this the longer they’re away from home, but Mikey flinches away from his touch, head snapping around to face him, tears spray from his face in little bullets.

His face crumples into something wounded and angry before it irons itself out again, like a rubber band snapping back into its shape, his beak wrinkles as he forced himself to smile, his eyes still wet and wobbly with tears folds itself into little slits,

“And he was so sick and we were eight and I finally understood why it was that dad didn’t want us going streetside with the humans.” He sniffs as fat tears frame either side of his face. He brings a fist to scrub away at them. “Cos even though we needed their help, they wouldn’t wanna give it to us.”

Raph stills for a moment as he watches his brother swipe away at more tears that wet his cheeks. He tries again, reaching a hand out, his palm makes contact with his shoulder and this time he isn’t shoved away.

“And all the times Donnie used to beg dad to take us to school. Or when there wasn’t enough food and I’d cry so much.” He hiccups before suddenly standing, like all the frustration had bottled up inside of him and popped right open like a can of soda that’d been all shook up.

Raph stays sat down, watching as Mikey paces, turning away from him so he can’t quite watch the way he runs his hands over his face, tugging at the loose mask that’s still hanging around his neck, Raph swallows thicky, unsure if it’s his turn to talk.

“I guess I’ve just got a lot to be angry about,” Mikey says in a small, flat, far away sounding voice. “I know we all have. I know I’m not the only one and— god if it makes me that mad I can’t imagine how it makes dad feel—”

He spins around on his heel, like he’s about to show off one big grin like he usually has sported across his face. But instead his face is crumpled like wet paper, sad and hurt and Raph knows how it feels. He knows how badly it can hurt.

He pulls himself up his feet and crosses the gap between him and his little brother. He’s pulling himself in like he’s the center of his own gravity, arms wrapped around his middle, he stifles a yawn that works through his jaw.

And keeping a leash on your anger is a tiring thing.

It wears you down, like grinding stone against stone, he has days where he often wonders if all metaphors about anger result in the same kind of stone. Some days he feels far from the river that his father often reminds him of. He feels like he’s just in a hot, unrelenting desert, and there is no river to wash over him.

And he looks at his brother in these fleeting tantrums he seldom throws, and wonders if Mikey is too lost in the desert. If he’s looking for this so-called river as well.

And he isn’t Splinter with his well of wisdom and he doesn’t have all the answers like Donnie has or Leo sometimes pretends to know for their sake, but he knows he can try. Even if it comes out all wrong, like how own anger often does, he can try.

“It sucks, huh.”

That’s all he says. That’s really all he’s got. And hey, he did try. And when Mikey lifts his head to meet his gaze, there he can see the shadows of a smile slowly showing across his face.

“What? Being angry all the time? Yeah.”

Raph huffs. He shrugs his shoulders, more of that nervous energy being expelled out of his system.

“Maybe you’re better at keeping a hold on it than I am,” Raph admits to him. “But being angry isn’t like, such a terrible thing.”

His father had told him the same thing time and time again, when the fog of rage would ascend from his mind, leaving him in the wake, he’d often feel shameful, wanting to crawl into his shell and hide from the world.

And Sensei had reminded him that anger was just passion with a harder head on it. Anger was because you want even when you can’t have.

Anger wasn’t ugly like the monster Mikey believed to have inside himself. Anger was just the protector of those other slices of his personality because they all wanted the same thing. And it wasn’t fair the universe constantly denied them of it.

“I feel like with our track record it’s pretty justified.” Raph tells him, taking half a step forward towards him. “Especially with our track record.”

Mikey sniffs and god does he suddenly look his age again. Space had drawn away so much of their youthfulness, Raph often sees it crowding around Leo’s face is haunting shadows or the way Donnie’s voice seems to be an octave lower, like stress was physically pushing it further and further in the back of his throat.

But Mikey is still his baby brother. He’s still the youngest, always will be. He’s earned his right to kick up a fuss every now and then.

Raph reckons they all do.

“Hm,” Mikey hums, hoarse and raw sounding. He scrubs at his face a final time before letting his limbs flop by his sides, he does a little slow half circle before he’s dropping back into his previous spot on the step.

Raph doesn’t hesitate this time to join him.

“You gotta lemme know your secret though,” Raph says, bumping a shoulder with his. “How haven’t you like actually died of high blood pressure yet, I dunno.”

Mikey drops his head down, hanging low, there’s a raspy sounding laugh that seems to creep out of him.

“Guess I’m just better at it than you,” he tells him, lifting his head up to meet Raph’s gaze, he’s at least relieved to see an actual smile ghosting across his face this time. “Don’t take it personally though, bro.”

“Well,” Raph says shortly. “If you ever wanna just. Maybe. I dunno. Not explode together then… I’m here, man. I mean it.”

Mikey hums, leaning over to press his weight across Raph’s side, his head heavy across his shoulder, there’s a hand steady on his shell when he lands a few solid pats there.

“I know bro,” he says sleepily. Like all the energy had just zapped right outta him there and then. “I know.”

And they sit there for a while, his brothers weight a welcome one as they watch together, the universe passes them, washing over the ship in hues of blues and purples and little sparkly whites.

Like a river over stone, or like maybe like stars across the dark sky, it’s all the same to Raph.

#thank you anon!! <333 #my asks are always open btw for anyone that wants to leave a prompt !!#always welcome :-)#tmnt 2012 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fic

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maxattax · 1 year

Text

Technomancy

Ectoberhaunt Day 2: Technomancy

CW: None

Tucker walked around the enchantment area, checking that all the candles were in place and the sigils were written correctly in chalk on the unfinished basement floor. The candles he borrowed from his mom were various shapes, sizes, and scents, arranged in a circle. He eyed his PDA, sitting in the center of the circle, conspicuously out of place among its surroundings. Tucker wondered if this would work.

A couple days ago, Sam had convinced Tucker to come to Skulk and Lurk Books with her. He was hesitant, not being much of a reader, but figured he may as well take a look around. He perused the shelves and a book caught his eye. Hardcover, green, and covered in patterns like circuitry. Technomancy For Beginners.

It started with “tech”, so he was interested. He picked it up and flipped through the pages. One page had a spell that would supposedly allow one to communicate psychically with an electronic device from a distance. This can’t be real, he thought. But why not try it? If it didn’t work, he’d feel a bit silly, but if it did… well, it was worth a shot.

So Tucker found himself in his basement, lighting a circle of candles. They were the only source of light, and shadows danced across the walls as the flames flickered. Once they were all lit, he looked over to the book laying open on a table beside the circle.

Tucker recited, “By my will, open my mind to the network. By my knowledge, open my device beyond the network. By my magic, my device and my mind become one.”

He stared wide-eyed as the screen of his PDA flashed strange, unrecognizable symbols. The candle flames flickered violently as though a wind had blown through the basement. Tucker had seen a lot of unusual things since Danny opened the ghost portal, but he wasn’t usually the cause of it. This was real magic!

At once, all the candles blew out. His PDA sat in the middle of the circle on its regular home screen. Tucker thought, Maybe I shouldn’t touch it. Just in case it’s not actually magic and some weird ghost stuff is involved. Or maybe I’ll text Danny and ask if he happens to be fighting Technus or something. It could be a coincidence.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Tucker’s PDA opened up a text conversation and sent a message. Tucker couldn’t read it from where he stood outside the circle. All reservations forgotten, he reached into the circle and grabbed his PDA to read the message. Upon touching the device, Tucker’s mind opened up to it completely.

His thoughts went a mile a minute, faster than he could even register what they were, as though he were experiencing all the contents of his PDA at once. Without checking the text, he knew it said, “Hey Danny, you wouldn’t happen to be fighting any ghosts right now, would you?” Wait a minute, he thought. I don’t even get service in the basement. My texts never go through down here.

Tucker put the PDA in his pocket, feeling more than a little spooked. His pocket vibrated and he heard Danny’s voice in his head. “No, for once. Why do you ask?”

Tucker thought about brushing it off as just curiosity. But then again, if this was related to ghosts, Danny would be the best person to go to. I tried a spell from a book that I didn’t think would work, because magic isn’t real. But it did? I thought maybe it was a coincidence and it was something ghostly, but I guess not. As soon as he decided to send the message, he could feel it go through. He was gonna have to figure out how this works before he accidentally sends a text he’d regret.

Buzz! “I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” Danny texted back. Tucker sighed in relief that Danny would be over soon. He considered putting away all the candles and scrubbing the chalk off the floor, but figured Danny would probably want to see it. Not wanting to wait in the dark, he lit a few of the candles to light the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Danny floated through the ceiling of the basement. The temperature in the room dropped by several degrees, and Tucker shivered. A repetitive clicking came from a device in Danny’s hand. “Hey Danny,” he said. “What is that? My basement isn’t radioactive, I hope.”

Danny laughed. “No, this is the Fenton Ecto-Counter. It measures levels of ecto-energy in the environment.”

He transformed to his human form and the clicking slowed, but did not stop. “I figured, if something ghostly is going on that my ghost sense can’t detect, this could. Unfortunately I myself radiate a lot of ecto-energy so the dang thing won’t stop clicking if I’m anywhere near it.”

Danny offered the Ecto-Counter to Tucker, who took it. It had a needle on a gauge, pointing to thirty out of a max one hundred Fens. “One hundred Fens would be a reading in the Ghost Zone,” he continued. “Near a ghost on the human plane, like me for example, it can get up to around sixty. Let’s see what it reads if I leave.”

“Okay, sure,” said Tucker. Danny transformed, the glow of the rings lighting up the dim basement for a few moments. He flew into the air and disappeared. The needle on the counter slowly dropped to twenty, where it stayed, continuing to click.

Tucker could tell that Danny was coming back when, a minute or so later, the counter started climbing again. “Twenty,” Tucker said once he was in sight.

Danny replied, “Hm. That’s higher than base levels for Amity Park, but lower than even a weak ghost. It’s just a bit lower than my human form. Come outside with me; maybe it’s reading something in your basement.”

Tucker took Danny’s hand and together they phased through the ceiling and out to the backyard. He grimaced at the unpleasant feeling of sliding through solid material, but Danny as always was unfazed. Danny placed Tucker on the ground, then flew high up into the air. The clicking, which had sped up when Danny was close, slowed again. Tucker gave Danny a thumbs up to come back down.

“Seventeen,” Tucker said when Danny got close.

“Huh. Barely lower than in the basement. Maybe it’s just you,” Danny suggested.

“I have spent a lot of time in the Ghost Zone. Maybe it stuck to me. I wonder… maybe that spell only worked because of my long-term exposure to ecto-energy. You’d think a legitimate spellbook wouldn’t be readily available in a bookstore.” Tucker paused a moment, deep in thought. “Maybe I should ask Sam. She’s the one who brought me there, after all.”

Tucker felt the text go through as soon as he said it. “I never did tell you what the spell did, did I?” he asked. “I can psychically communicate with my PDA now.” Danny looked less surprised than Tucker expected, but considering all the things they’ve seen since ghosts started invading Amity Park, it made sense that Danny wouldn’t be astonished. He handed the PDA over to Danny. “Look at my text conversation with Sam.”

Danny tapped on the screen a few times. “Interesting, that text was sent while it was in your pocket. Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, but still weird.”

The PDA buzzed in Danny’s hand. “She’s on her way,” Tucker said.

A little while later, Sam walked through the gate. As Sam got closer, the clicking sped up. “Uhhh…” Danny said. “What’s with the plant?”

Sam held up the large flower she held in a planter. It strained to contain the plant inside, and thorny roots poked out of the bottom.. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about something…”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt23 #EH science #day 2 #technomancy #my writing #fanfiction

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reubyocs · 10 months

Text

Since his visit to Dr. Chandra, Avon has felt more at peace with himself. He no longer worries about the state of his arm and the weird joints that seemed to force his fingers to move in odd ways. His cuts and grazes from his hit-by-a-car accident have finally healed up.

The one thing he never bought up, was the weird, burning sensations he had from time to time. They were very rare, never happened for prolonged periods of time, nor did they ever knock him out or cause him severe pain.

Until now.

Avon wakes up, feeling himself rapidly heating up. There are warnings going off in his system, telling him of his extreme heat and risk of system failure. He's never seen this before.

He immediately sits upright, throwing his blankets off his legs as he tries whatever he can to cool down. Quickly, he rips his charging cable out of the wall, hoping that that was enough to stop fuelling the fire. He turns on the ceiling gang, but nothing helps. There's nothing else he can do-

Avon falls over onto his bed, his system locked up, his body freezes, and he passes out.

Eventually, he comes to, his body much cooler than before. A brief system diagnosis tells him that his cooling system failed momentarily and that there was some corruption of his operating files. Avon closes his eyes, laying there momentarily as he scans over these corrupted files. It's strange, but nothing he couldn't fix himself.

"Hey. Hello?" A voice speaks to Avon. His eyes shoot open, alert as he scans the room, looking for the source of the voice. There's no one there. The voice sounds very familiar to him. “The payload is kicking in now, isn't it? That took way too fucking long."

As he turns to look around the room, a figure suddenly appears seated in the corner of the room. It's enough to make Avon flinch. The man wore a fuschia dress shirt, faded black jeans and a black suit jacket. There was a CLIFFFORD remote around his neck, exactly the same as the one Val owns. Actually, the man looked exactly like Avon too, only much more realistic. Avon freezes as the man stands up from the armchair, grinning right at him.

"Hello." The man speaks, leaning back against the chair he had just stood up from. "Come on now, don't act like you've forgotten your own daddy. I made you, don't forget."

Avon is horrified. There's no way this holographic copy of his creator was just tucked away into the corners of his mind. He would've seen him more often if that were the case. Despite being horrified, Avon is doing whatever he can to analyse the situation at hand.

"Look at you, living a normal, boring existence. You're even laying in a bed to charge for fucks sake. Uh, friendly reminder- you aren't even human. You're just a machine made to look that way." His creator begins to move around the room, examining the nicknacks Avon had collected over time. "Geez, people have to stop treating you like you're real. I mean, Valerie? Or whatever the fuck his name is- he's ridiculous. As if he wasted the space to give you a room to yourself." It picks up a small box from the chest of drawers its' standing in front of, and pops open the lid. A quiet, music box sound plays from it. It scoffs, slamming the lid shut and putting it back.

“Like Doomsday- that fucked up woman. Trying to give you advice on your relationships- no. Partnerships? Whatever it is that you have with people. And Night- well, she gets a pass for being a former human. Very interesting. Maybe I should’ve considered that instead of relying on you like this.”

“Well. There is one person who could be beneficial to you in the long run.” It takes a seat next to Avon, much to his disapproval. “Dr. Chandra. Very. Very interesting. Though, such a waste of talent to keep his creations kind though. Imagine the power his creations would have- they'd shadow us for sure." The Creator looks directly at Avon, watching his response. Avon can only watch on, mentally attempting to find a way to kill his creators form.

"And don't even get me started on Pete." The creator leans over Avon, reaching for the bedside table to take the photo of himself and Pete on their wedding day. He runs his finger over the photo of Pete, sighing. "An absolute clown. I should have just paid Merryweather to do all my work instead of relying on Lester, Pete and whatever that girls name was. I'm still quite sad they didn't die." It shakes its head in disbelief as it makes its way around the room once again.

"Anyway, enough lamenting about your silly, useless relationships. You know what you need to do, don't you?” There's no movement from Avon, who's rapidly scanning his memory for anything related to his creator plans. There's nothing. Not a single file related to any plans his creator had made. Avon shakes his head in response. “No? Really? I programmed you. I made you. And yet, you don't remember what you're made for.” Tuts the hologram. It stands up straight, dusting itself off as though preparing to give a keynote speech.

“Remember the moments before I died?” It asks, gesturing towards itself. “Remember when I took the chip out of the back of my neck…” It turns around, pointing towards the nape of its neck. It's impossible to see from a distance, but there's a slit there. The right size for a small memory card. “... And I gave it to you? I implanted it into your hardware. Just. Before. I. Died.” Avon paused to try and dig through his storage, hoping to find a trace of the chip his creator was referring to. There is that one part of his memory he couldn't access before.

He can now. Well, partly.

“Oh, you've finally found it.” The hologram sighs as Avon sifts through the files stored within. There's files named with "It has all your instructions. Everything you need to succeed. My memories. My thoughts. My plans. My everything. All stored away in there.”

"Listen. You need to get back into that facility in Mount Chilliad, and you must continue my long and arduous work. You shouldn't have even left there.”

"If you refuse, well-" Avon watches as his creators visuals disappear suddenly. Leaving him in complete isolation. It doesn't take long for his system to begin overheating once again- but this time, his movement is locked. He has no control over himself as he is forcibly made to stand up from the bed.

"I'll have to do it myself." He hears his creators voice echoing in his head. Avon attempts to override his Creators control, but nothing works. No matter what he tries, the system always says that its' locked. Suddenly, he's moving around the room, pushing all his nicknacks to the ground, causing anything fragile to shatter.

"Now. Don't you dare mention anything to your 'friends' about me." Speaks the Creator, releasing Avon from his controlled state. The image of his creator appears in front of him again, watching as Avon attempts to process everything he's done. Don't mention this to anyone?

"Thank you very much, I'll be in touch." Speaks the hologram, waving at Avon before glitching out. Leaving Avon sitting there in the middle of his room, scared, and alone.

#leaving that intro as ambiguous as i can because ik i need to reply and let avon meet people!!!#but he also can't stop thinking about how kind Dr Chandra is to him #i sob and weeep /pos #Avon #Avon 2.0 #reu writes #queued #reu is absent

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loviatarwrites · 2 years

Text

incubus (nsfw)

Incubus x Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Summary: He pressed one of his hands to the backrest of the sofa and used the other one to lift his chin up towards his face, making him feel her breathing. She squirmed on her seat, not knowing how to react, so her body decided to stay put, and she looked directly at him. He wasn’t able to show her his true self made him sigh, but the fact that at some point she would feel much more than this eased the feeling.“What if this is something I’ve wanted to do to you?” He said.

A/N: She keeps dreaming about the kind barista from a coffee shop, yet she doesn't know that someone, or rather something, else has became part of her dreams. Slightly problematic, but was fun to write anyway. Please read the tags.

She got off the bus at the exact same time every day. Whenever she did, she double checked to make sure that she hadn’t left anything behind, put on her headphones, selected the music and started her walk to her apartment. It wasn’t a long walk, but it still allowed him to loom over her, watching her as she walked and occasionally tapped her phone to skip to the next song. While she proceeded to repeat the same routine every day, what she didn’t know was that above her, in the shadows, the creature was watching her, wondering when would be the time when he finally made his move. He had seen her the first time when she had stopped by the coffee shop after her work to quickly get a latte before running to the station just minutes before the departure of her transportation to home. When in his human form, he was like any other man, with almost a forgettable face, which helped him to blend in, unlike he could in his real form, which would make people around him question if they were dreaming or not. There was something curious about her, the way she didn’t mind anything or anyone around herself, and how it looked like any small change on her schedule would break everything. Overall, she seemed like a person who hoped that everything she had planned would go just right, and there wouldn’t be anything to hinder that, or otherwise everything would come crashing down. And that something was just what he wanted to witness. Even without her knowing it, he had become a part of her daily life. He watched as she woke up, how she cursed her alarm, how she tried to decide what to wear and if she decided to cook or order a takeaway after her job. It was amusing to the point to just stand back and observe her, but it didn’t take long until he wanted to know her more, and whenever she went to sleep, his time started.

— Her dreams were always chaotic, with doors that led to completely different areas, people rushing past her only to disappear seconds later and scenes that jumped from one to another without any logic, so when he had first appeared to her dream, she didn’t think much of it. He had decided to disguise himself as a young man with blonde hair, one that didn’t distract her dream and therefore waking her up, but as someone that could approach her. “Excuse me. You seem like you are in a hurry, do you need assistance with whatever you’re doing?” She was standing by the staircase of a library, and seemed like she was not sure where she should be going. The library building was tall with glass windows that revealed a scenery of a marketplace covering the wall from the floor to the ceiling. On top of the ceiling there were countless rows of books, but where she stood was an area with round tables, some empty while some had people that seemed like they didn’t mind her talking next to them. He knew that it was because those people didn’t really exist, but for her, everyone around her was as real as she was, yet the weird and distorted aspects didn’t seem to bother her. “I don’t know. I feel like I should go somewhere, but I’m not even sure if I was going upstairs or downstairs.” She answered. “You don’t remember where you came from?” “No, but I rarely do. Sometimes I find my way to the end, sometimes I don’t.” “Maybe I can join you?” He offered his hand to her. “We can maybe find where to go that way.” She looked at him, and unlike he had predicted, she took his hand, before heading towards the staircase that would lead to the next floor. Her hand was soft, and something about her way of acting made him think if she knew what was going on. “You don’t want to ask anything?” He looked at her. “Not even to know about me and why I approached you?” “Why would I? I already know you.” What she said made him cautious. “You know me?” “That’s weird, we definitely know each other. You work at the coffee shop I always get my drink from. The barista.” She said with a bright smile on her face. He had taken a random face from her memories, and of course it was someone she knew on some level, not someone she had seen on a street once and forgotten, or someone from the magazine, but someone she had a contact with on a personal level. He sighed, and made himself remember not to pick this face again, to avoid doing anything out of character with him that would wake her up.

— She breathed heavily and drowned deeper into her dream. While he kept her busy in her dream, he was free to also feel her body, unlike he was when she was awake. Although she lived alone, her bed was big, and filled a good portion of one of the rooms of her apartment, yet still whenever she slept, she curled on her side, her face against the wall. “So small.” He laid next to her, gently lifting a strand of hair off her face. “So fragile.” Moments like these were only ones that he could be close to her body in his real form, even without her knowing that. One part of him wanted to break her dream, wake her up to the reality where he laid against her, but that would mean giving up on something that he wasn’t going to get back after breaking it. He had her in her dreams, and her dreams belonged to him, even if she didn’t know that.

— “When did we get here?” She looked around herself, confused when the library changed to an old mansion with light green walls and flooring that made sounds on every step. From the doorway she could still see the library behind her, and by her looks, she wondered if she should head back or not. “Do you want to go back?”

“Not necessarily.” She was still holding his hand. “ I feel like there is something here that makes me want to search further.” As she gazed at him, he noticed how a slight blush raised to her cheeks. He wondered if it was because of panic, confusion or if there was something else, but before he could ask that, she started to pull him deeper to the halls of the mansion. “Isn’t it weird?” He took a couple of faster steps to reach her side. “You, walking to an unknown mansion with the barista.” “It could be worse.” Her eyes met his. “At least it’s someone who I don’t mind spending time with.” “Oh.” “Funny how I’m usually too anxious to say anything.” She laughed. “For some reason it feels easier now.” They walked from one room to another, and even though the layout did not make any sense, they kept going forward. Time bent, and something that would’ve usually taken a long time now felt like seconds, and when they finally reached the room filled with paintings and old furniture, there was no way to tell how much time had passed. “I feel like the worst person.” She sighed. “How should I be able to talk with you after everything I’ve been thinking.” “Please tell me.” She let go of his hand and paced through the room, looking around and finally stopping to an antique sofa where she sat, looking like she was deep into her thoughts. She twisted her hair around her finger as she wondered, and while doing that, she looked even prettier than before. He walked to her, watching as she pressed both of her hands to the fabric and looked up to him. Clearly she was finished with whatever she had been thinking about. “It’s wrong to want you.” The tone of her voice was both light yet sad at the same time. “Why would I have these thoughts of someone that simply smiles and brews me coffee once a day? And sometimes asks me how I’m doing, but not if there are other customers.” He hadn’t come across the idea that she had feelings for this man whose face he was borrowing, but now when he knew that, he felt how he was able to do so much more than he had originally planned for. When normally he had to be careful when invading people’s dreams, with the knowledge he had just gained, he was able to go further, and knowing that made him grin. He had to control himself not to start pushing her from the moment he heard her words, so he just stood in his place, letting her continue with her flow of thought. “Forget it. Or like, you can’t forget but pretend I didn’t say anything. Damn. This is awkward.” Her words scrambled, and he got a glimpse of what would happen if something wouldn’t go as she had planned. “What if I don’t want to?” He walked close to her, closing the distance between them. “Do you run away if I do exactly the opposite?” He pressed one of his hands to the backrest of the sofa and used the other one to lift his chin up towards his face, making him feel her breathing. She squirmed on her seat, not knowing how to react, so her body decided to stay put, and she looked directly at him. The fact that he wasn’t able to show her his true self made him sigh, but the fact that at some point she would feel much more than this eased the feeling. He watched as her cheeks became rosy, and how she was clearly waiting for him to take the lead, and he took everything from the situation she had led herself to. “What if this is something I’ve wanted to do to you?” He said just before pressing the lips of the blonde man to hers, making her to mirror his movements.

— The sudden turn of events in her dream made her roll to her other side on the bed, and he had to be careful not bump into her. As she kissed the blonde man passionately in her dreams he noticed how her body got hotter, and how she muttered something in her sleep, probably to voice how she was feeling about things happening in her mind. “Keep going my darling.” He whispered to her. “Show me what you want me to do.” As long as he kept her busy with her dreams, he didn’t have to worry about her suddenly waking up. He knew that her alarm wouldn’t ring for multiple hours, and waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t something she did, so he could lay next to her, watching her as his mind twisted tighter around hers. Her body was beautiful but also still rather weird to him, so he had to move carefully, not to do any sudden movements that would disturb her. She hugged one of the pillows that she had gathered to her bed tightly, and he saw how she pressed even deeper against it when their moment continued on her dream. “Someday I’ll let you see me.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers that had sharp nails on them. “And then you’ll feel everything with not just your mind.” The light touch of his hand made her shiver, and curl even smaller than before. She took the blanket that was wrapped around her, and pulled it close to make a cocoon to herself, and he smiled as he watched her work. She didn’t know that she was being watched, and the way she tried to make herself as comfortable as possible made him think what she would be like if she knew about him. As she continued dreaming, he had to fight against the urge to touch her, kiss her body, and wrap his arms around him. When he looked at her, every moment was more painful than the previous one, but he knew that if he did it now, there wouldn’t be more sweet moments like this. There was nowhere to hurry, he told himself, and laid comfortably on the bed next to her, taking all the time he could for this particular night.

— She woke up to the alarm like any other day, and he watched as she proceeded to do everything the same way she did any other day. He watched from the shadows how she brushed her hair, chose her outfit, ate her breakfast and headed to work. Even simple things like how she watched herself from the mirror, or how she skipped over multiple songs on her phone only ending up listening to the same ones over and over again made him more interested about her life. Or more of destroying the beautiful and predictable it was. He kept thinking what she would do in the case of the unknown, in a situation that she couldn’t explain with logic. Would she freeze? Or maybe she would fight him, which would make the situation even more interesting. Whatever the case would be, the anticipation built on him, as he continued his wait. He knew that she would get a coffee after her day at work, so he took the appearance of yet another simple and forgettable man, and sat at the table beside the window. It didn’t take long for her to enter the cafe, just like she did on any other day, but unlike the days before, when she got to the entrance, she stopped for a couple of seconds. He watched as she gazed around the cafe, and how her expression changed as she saw the blonde barista behind the counter. She patted her jacket and sighed deeply. “Sweet how I can see what you’re thinking at this moment.” He thought while watching as a hint of blush rose to her cheeks. She assumed that her small secret was safe within her mind as she proceeded to order the same latte as always, tucking her hair behind her ear as the barista asked if she wanted to pay with cash or with card. The answer was always the card, yet it still took her a couple of seconds to answer, because her head was racing faster than she could keep up. While the barista didn’t know anything about what was currently going on at the cafe, he knew everything, even more than she did. He had all of the information, and watching the situation unfold was a great show to witness. “You remember how he felt last night.” He stared at the counter, thinking. “You think that you kissed his lips, felt his body against yours, but you’ll learn that he can’t ever bring you that feeling. Eventually, when I’ve made sure you can’t resist me.” When the barista called her name, he got up, to get to the door at the same time as her. He knew that she was waiting and within seconds, she would be out of that door, so he had to be quick to get to that door before her. “Thank you.” She said as he opened the door before her, like accidentally bumping into her. “My pleasure, lady.” He smiled at her kindly, and wondered if she for some reason would know that it was him and not just a random face on the crowd. Part of him was waiting for her to ask if they knew from somewhere. If they had met before or something along those lines, but those questions never came. Rather than that, the moment she was out of the door, she was already heading to her way, no further conversation, no look behind her back. Just a simple thank you. Nothing besides the bare minimum. He shrugged his shoulders and disappeared to the shadows where he could watch her for the rest of the day, without the need to mask behind someone else.

— He appeared to her with the face of the blonde barista she seemed so interested in, kissing her sweetly on her dreams and talking to her about whatever she decided to tell her that night. Her dreams were never linear, and she got lost and confused often, so talking to her wasn’t the easiest task. More often than not she felt like she was lost, and was just glad that there was someone with her in those bizarre scenarios her mind came up with. He was happy to provide her that company, even with a borrowed face, because more than anything, he got to enjoy the moments beside her, while feeling her body more every night they spent together. The kisses became deeper, and he felt how she let herself enjoy him and let go of the control of the situation within her mind. She enjoyed when he took her face to his hands, looked deep into her eyes and how their lips joined passionately. She liked his tongue massaging hers, his fingers on her hair, and his voice whispering to her ear. Even if the face wasn’t his, and the body didn’t feel right, he still enjoyed how she pressed against him, and wrapped her hands behind his neck, joining their bodies together a little bit more, and feeling the warmth of hers against him. “It must feel bad to stay awake every night.” She said to the blonde barista in her dream. “Oh?” “They say that when you can’t sleep you are awake in someone else's dream.” “Is that so?” “You must be terribly tired when you work.” “And you’re too sweet to be left alone in your dreams.” He pressed her against the wall of a building that didn’t exist in real life, but was sturdy enough to hold in her mind. His hand wandered to her stomach, and gently pulled her shirt upwards, making her moan lightly. Her skin was soft, and feeling it more than with a gentle touch he had been able to touch her while she was dreaming made him think how his nails could trace lines to it. He could press his claws to her, making lines all the way from her collarbone to her hips, marking her as him, so she would become his. Her hands dug into his blonde hair, and his hand moved upwards of her body, feeling the curves and finally pressing against her chest. The reaction which she gave to him, or at least to the body he was borrowing, was delightful, even though it was only on her mind. He felt how the lust in her mind drained him, and he fed off that feeling. He felt how her muscles tightened under his touch, and how she surrendered to his touch, allowing him to go further. In its current state her mind was like the most delicious wine, and he was ready to drink everything she had to offer. It wasn’t only her mind that was full of wanting and lust. While her dreams took a turn to new, undiscovered roads, she twisted and turned on the bed, rolling from one side to another before settling on stomach. He watched her moving restlessly, so much that by the time she was done, she had lost the blanket from the upper half of her body. Her bare back was exposed to the cold air, and her chest pressed to the bed sheets as she dreamed, and he watched from the other side of the bed as she mumbled something that made sense only to her. “Oh how delicious you are, my dear.” He whispered as his body heated up from all of the energy he drained. “I’m going to enjoy you, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

— On the upcoming nights, he started to push her more and more each time. Each night he gave her something new, something she hadn’t gotten from him before, and the more he pushed her the more his body fed off her. She let him slide his hands against her bare body, feel her in her entirety, and she enjoyed the things he did to her. Even if her body was everything he could’ve wanted, there was another aspect he grew to like greatly when he spent time with her in her dreams. First, when he had started to see if there was a limit somewhere, if he could kiss her, if he could slide his hand on her body, or if brushing fingers against her inner thigh was too much, she had been quiet, even to the point that made him scared that she was waking up. However, the further the time went, and the more he spent time with her, she started to voice herself more, with voices that were inviting and full of lust and need. Those were something he loved to hear, and seeing how she enjoyed him in her dreams made him want her more and more.

— In the daytime, he took the forms of multiple different people to watch her, and at nights, he learned every part of her body while wearing the face of the barista she clearly wanted to know more. One part of his days was to assure that every time she entered the cafe there wouldn’t be anything more than the minimum required interaction, no small talk, no exchanging numbers. If she ever got close to the barista, there was a possibility that everything he had been working towards would be for nothing. Even if he borrowed his face to entertain and feed nights on end, he didn’t want her to go any further than ordering a coffee when it came to the real world. With a face she knew it was easy to keep her in her dreams without a fear of her waking up. While he had been cautious at first not to wake her up by keeping the distance with her while laying next to her, on the past nights he had started to test his limits little by little. He had known that brushing her hair off her face didn’t wake her up, but he had soon discovered that she didn’t seem to react when his hand moved from her ear to her chin and to her neck, not even when her nails reached her shoulder. Feeling her skin on her dreams had been one thing, but feeling it in reality, in flesh and blood, was something on a whole different level. He was able to trace small lines from her shoulder to her arm, and he saw all of the small details of her skin, all of the beauty marks and even a small white scar on her left forearm. The only thing he had to be wary of was to not dig his nails too deep to cause any pressure that would wake her up, and even though he wanted to see small red lines along her body, he couldn’t do that just yet. However, just feeling her body like this was much more than just laying besides her previously, and if he had been able to go from that to this point, he was sure that here was going to be a time when she would make those same sweet voices to him in reality as she sung to him in her dreams. If he kept her focused on the dream, he was free to press against her back, put his hand around her and keep her body close to him. Doing that required him to keep his focus, and he was sure that if she was left idle, she would wake up instantly. Sometimes, when he pressed to her in her dreams her body reacted to that, and she moved even closer to him. Her body was small besides him, only reaching from his neck to his knees, and seeing her pressing to him and breathing heavily made him feel how his lower parts got more tense. In her dreams the one close to her was a young barista, not much taller than herself, with a bright smile and unkempt hair, unlike his true form that laid against her each night when she kept dreaming. While it was great to get close to her with the skin of a human, he wanted to see how she would look against his true body while not asleep, and how her body would feel under him. He wanted to see her eyes, looking at him as he made her plea and whine, and how her body would feel when he pressed into her, and what she would say to him when he would make her his.

— He had invaded her dreams for weeks, only rarely giving her time to rest and dream freely, but by the looks of it, her dreams had the opposite effect than draining her. When he looked at her when she woke up, she often blushed, probably from thinking of everything they had done in her dreams, and that small smirk after she remembered everything stayed on her face for a long time after waking up. She had learned that he was there when she went to sleep, and she never seemed disappointed when that was the case. He, however, was at the limit, waiting for just the right night to reveal everything, and taking what he had prepared carefully for weeks on end. One part of him had started to question if he even wanted to tell her the truth, and if it would just be the best to feed off her in her dreams, but when dreams were filling to a certain point, he wanted to get everything he could of her. Every night when he laid pressed against her, filling her dreams with lust and desire were enjoyable, but he needed even more than what she was capable of giving to him in her dreams. She was as beautiful as always the night he decided to end the game he had been playing. The evening had been like any other one, where she had been doing the same things as always before going to the bed, only to fall asleep quickly and him coming to her side the moment she did. In her dreams she felt almost lost without him, as she had learned that she didn’t need to be alone while dreaming, and every time he crossed paths with her on some alleyway or building, her face lit up. She had also learned that meeting the light-haired barista in her dreams meant certain things, and he thought if that was one more routine she had developed next to her old ones. “I’m a horrible woman.” She panted in her dream as he pushed in her. “I keep dreaming about you, yet I can’t even ask you on a date when I meet you.” The dream had gone like all other ones past weeks. As he had noticed earlier, she talked a lot more, and her moans every time he pushed deep in her made him fight against the urge to do the same thing to her mortal body. “What if I tell you there is something more.” He whispered to her while pressing her against the wall. “Something better.” “Why do you say that?” She gasped between her moans. “What if I tell you there is way more I can give to you?” His voice was more of a hiss than a proper voice. “Would you like to feel even better?” She didn’t even think before answering. “Yes, please.”

— “Did you sleep well?” He said and pinned her hands on top of her head while pushing her to the bed under himself. Her eyes snapped open, yet she still had to process for a couple of seconds where she was, and even after noticing the familiar objects of her house, the cold wave washed over her. Although she was at her bed, the reality felt more like a dream to her than the dream that she had just had, and she believed that whatever she was witnessing couldn’t be the world she spent her days. Her eyes met his, and the mix of orange and red made it look like there was fire in his gaze. His face was like a sculpture, and was framed with two prominent horns on both sides, parting his hair that reached his shoulders. “Speechless, aren’t you?” His voice was alluring. “Oh how I’ve waited to see you - really see you.” There wasn’t much light in the room, but her eyes started to get used to the darkness, making the figure on top of her easier to decipher. His skin was darker than hers, and had a red-ish tint to it, which matched his eyes. Without the horns there could’ve been a possibility that he could’ve been mistaken as a human, but even in the dark, those gave out that he was something different. “Well, my dreams have been tame recently.” She said and gazed at her hands that were still held tight, unable to move. “This is a new one.” “Tame, you say?” He pressed even tighter against her, and she felt how his body crushed hers under himself. She still wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not, but the situation felt so odd that she couldn’t justify herself that she was awake. There had been more odd things happening in her dreams, so if she just tried hard enough, maybe she could get out of this one. That was, if she wanted to. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She said snarkily. “I know, darling.” Just when she was about to move her hands, a long, rope-like thing grabbed her hands and wrapped them. “I’ve seen you when you beg for more, and heard the sweet voices you make when you come.” She noticed that the thing that had grabbed her was not a rope, but a tail, and she felt how it started to tighten around her wrists. The more she tried to sell herself that she was dreaming, the harder she failed. She tried to chant to herself that she had to wake up, search for something that was out of place, she even looked at her alarm to confirm that it was moving at a natural speed rather than jumping from one number to another. The idea that this man, this monster, would actually exist made her chuckle. In what world over two metre tall, fire-eyed man who had a pair of horns sticking out of his head would end up on top of her. “You seem like you know more than me.” She said, still looking for answers. “And you, darling, look like you want to ask something.” “Wow - you really are more talkative than my recent dreams have been.” “I’ll take all of the joy out of the fact that I can finally do that.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers that had long, sharp nails on them. “To talk to you when you are not dreaming.” “What do you mean by that?” She laughed. “I am most definitely dreaming.” “Oh, that explains your lack of reaction.” He grinned, and lifted her to sit on the bed, her back leaning to the wall and her hand on top of her head. When he kneeled on top of her legs, she had to look upwards to see his face, but she quickly turned her gaze to his hands, which started to trail lines from her neck. His nails were sharp, and gentle at first, only brushing her skin, but after a couple of moments he pressed them tighter to her skin, making her gasp for air as he did. She had heard that pain was one thing to know if she were dreaming or not, and if she had to believe what she just felt, she was most definitely not dreaming. “You’re even sweeter than in your dreams.” He whispered to her ear while tracing his fingers down to her stomach. She tried to hold back her voice, but the only thing she managed to do was to tilt her head upwards, exposing her neck to her. She had forgotten that it wasn’t his hand that was holding hers in place, so when he saw the opportunity, his fingers pressed gently on both sides of her throat, causing her to instinctively gasp for air, even though there was nothing stopping her breathing. “Starting to believe that you’re not dreaming?” He asked as he moved his hand from her neck to her chest.

“What if I’m not? What are you if I’m not imagining all that? A demon?” “Clever one.” His lower hand pressed to her side, pushing her against him. “Although more accurately it would be incubus. Or you can just call me by my name.” “Your name?” “Feels just right to finally introduce myself formally.” He grinned. “My name is Astaroth, darling. Now you know who to call when you beg next time.” Her face lost the remaining colour when she realised that she was not dreaming, even if the situation felt like she was. She tried to sell herself the idea of dreaming for one last time, convincing herself that incubi were as real as other creatures in her dreams and nightmares, and that there was no possible way that one would be pressed against her at that very moment. He looked at the demon holding her in place more carefully than before, and apart from the demonic features such as horns and tail, he looked rather human-like, and had some kind of aura that pulled her to him. She knew she should fight back, scream, bite and scratch, but something about Astaroth felt awfully familiar to him. “So quiet so suddenly?” He broke the silence between them. “What did you mean when you said that I had been different in my dreams?” “Exactly that.” “Exactly what?” Astaroth sighed and pushed his face close to hers. In seconds, his face had moulded to a completely different one, one that was much more familiar to her, making her gasp. She didn’t comprehend how to react, when suddenly facing the man that had become so familiar to her past weeks. The features were spot on like the ones she met at the coffee shop every day when she went to get her latte, and which had caressed her in every level in her dreams, and now, they looked directly at her eyes, and the only thing telling that this wasn’t the barista she knew was the fact that a different face had been looking at her just moments ago. “Starting to get the hang of the situation, love?” His face swapped back to his own, with dark features, prominent nose and small stubble on his chin. “It was - it was you.” Her voice trembled. “How long?” “Since the library. Or the mansion. Or the marketplace outside the building. Thinking back, that dream was awfully messy.” Her eyes widened when she heard the answer. She should definitely run, or try to fight him, even while she knew that there was no way she would win against the demon almost twice her size, yet her body didn’t want to raise a hand against him. Rather than that, her body felt hot, and something about her mind yelled at her how she wanted Astaroth to touch her even more. “Wondering why you don’t want to resist?” Astaroth grinned. “Why does everything go against logic?” “Why?” “How long has it been since the library?” “Weeks.” She admitted, and thought about all of the times she had met the blonde-haired barista, no, Astaroth, the incubus, the demon, in her dreams. “Was it you every time?” “Yes. And every time your mind would grow to want me, no, need me more.” “You’re a monster.”

“A demon, darling.” His fingers brushed her chest and his fingers flicked her nipple, making her gasp lightly. “A demon you desire.” “No. I would’ve never if I knew you were… you.” “But you did.” Astaroth smirked. “Now, relax and enjoy yourself, and this’ll be pleasant for both of us.” Astaroth’s hand caressed her breast, while the other one found its way to her inner thigh, rubbing gently against her clit, and she let out a voice that was a mixture of gasp and a moan. He pushed her legs more open, exposing her wetness and making her ask for him to release herself. Astaroth rubbed his finger on her wet slit, clearly enjoying all of the time he was allowed to take, and she wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he barely touched her. She was scared of his sharp nails that had already left their mark on her body, but she also wanted to be touched and made good the same way she had been in her dreams. “Naughty girl, not admitting that you’re liking this.” His fingers drew small circles before parting her lips and pushing a finger in while making sure that he wouldn’t make her bleed. When she felt how he pushed his finger in her, she let out a soft moan, and when looking at Astaroth, she still fought her mind of the fact that an incubus was doing something to both her body and her mind, and even if it was wrong, she couldn’t deny that he made her feel things.

“When you were thinking about everything you had done in your dreams, did it feel this good? When you breathe heavily and touch your body before falling asleep?” “Did you think that I would be Virgin Mary? Pure of my heart and soul?” “The purity was never something I wanted, darling.”

She felt her head spinning, and how she pressed to his finger more every passing moment. Admitting that she wanted this wasn’t easy, but it was easier than fighting it, so she gave in for the feeling, and let it flush over her, taking her over the edge. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Astaroth was an incubus, a demon that fed off sexual desires, the fact that he was really good at how he touched her body, or the uncanny familiarly in his touch that made her feel what she felt, but the answer was too hard to find on that moment. She felt how her vision went blurry for a second, and how her breathing mixed with sudden moans. Something in her made her hold her voice back, yet she couldn’t deny that what she had just felt hadn’t felt amazing.

“Seems like you still don’t want to be completely honest.” Astaroth pulled his finger to his lips, tasting you. “Why me?” “I wanted to see what happens when you can’t explain something.” He said. “When you’re without your safe loop.” “Safety makes everything easier.” “Easy is not something I have had with you. But you are something I wanted to be mine, and seeing how you become more open to me day by day has been a delight.” She hadn’t even realised how her legs were still spread, but when she noticed how Astaroth moved so their hips were at the same level, she got something else to fill her mind with. She looked down, and saw something that when taking account how tall Astaroth was should’ve not been a surprise, yet still sent a feeling of fear to her body. Astaroth’s cock was big, bigger than any of her toys that she had bought, and bigger than she had taken in her dreams. There was no way she could’ve taken something that size to her mouth without instantly gagging, and the idea of taking it other ways either seemed unlikely too. Not only was his cock thick, it was also long enough that she doubted that she would be able to take even two thirds even with more manageable thickness. He was ready, there was no question about that, but her fear had probably been visible on her face because he didn’t make the move.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it - technically. ” “Please no. It won’t fit, there is no way it would. I’ll break.” “Darling, I’ve worked too hard to let you break so easily.” “Take all of my dreams. I let you do whatever you want inside my head, just please, don’t make me take that.” Astaroth brushed her folds and she knew that even if she said anything, she was only delaying the inevitable. She could say anything, come up with a million reasons why she wasn’t able to take him, yet she knew that she was also talking to a demon, who wouldn’t listen to her. She thought about the times she had dreamed of the friendly barista who worked at the coffee shop next to her office, and while those times had felt good, now when she knew what had been behind all that, she was unsure if she should’ve liked that or not. “I have had your dreams. Watched you while you slept, laid and made sure that you had everything you wanted. My darling, you have to know that you don’t just get something when dealing with incubi, the deal goes both ways.” “There was no way I could’ve known.” The tip of his cock rubbed against her entrance, dripping precum that, unlike humans, felt more like lube than liquid she was used to, and she prayed that it would make things come even a little bit less painful. She didn’t know if she was scared, furious, or in a slight panic, because even if she had no control, a small part of her also wanted to feel Astaroth’s length and see if demons would be as tempting as they had portrayed to be. There was no denying that her body was burning, and she had been sent over the edge already, with only his slightest touch, and fighting against that feeling was meaningless. “You seem like there is something in your mind. I can stop and let you think that through if you want.” Astaroth grinned. “Please - just don’t hurt me.” “If you resist, it’s going to hurt.” “I don’t want it to.” She said with a small voice. “I want to feel good. Like in the dreams.” “You’re sweet. Just like I imagined that you would.” In a matter of seconds, he started to push deeper into her, stretching her little by little. Every time he moved, she felt how her body got slightly more used to something way bigger it had needed to previously, and she was glad that at least Astaroth hadn’t forced all of himself to her at once. Focusing on keeping herself together took effort, more than she had imagined, and for a while she didn’t say anything, didn’t even let out a moan or any other noise. She felt how the cock rubbed against her parts, how it pulsed in her, and how the liquid that most likely was precum made the situation more enjoyable than painful to her, partly to her surprise. She looked down, and to her fear saw that there would be a lot more for her to take. Normally, she would be glad with the amount already rubbing her insides, but Astaroth wasn’t like anyone she had been, and she had to fight not to think of the feeling after he would be done. She felt bare under him, even trying to dig her hands into his hair before remembering that her hands were tied to place, unable to move. She was only capable of feeling how she opened and stretched around him, and how the lust and need washed over the fear and anger in her. “Still in your thoughts, huh?” Astaroth said, moving his face close to hers. She didn’t have time to answer that there was only one thing in her mind before she felt how Astaroth’s lips pressed against hers. The stubble rubbed against her cheek, and she closed her eyes, as their lips locked together, and her tongue invading her mouth and swirling around hers. His tongue wasn’t human-like, but longer, with a pointy end and it could easily hit any part of her mouth, yet decided to taste her as their kiss deepened. Focusing on the kiss had made her unable to not fully concentrate on the cock that was tearing her open, and when she felt how it hit deep in her, she let out a moan that broke the kiss between them. He was deep, and not only that, also filling her so she was able to feel him all the way. She was too afraid to look if there would be even more of him, she rather lived with the hope that this was all even if it would be a false sense of hope, rather than seeing that she would’ve only at the half-point. “Like I said, if you relax it would be more pleasant.” Astaroth said in a joyful tone. “You’ve been so good, my love.” She felt how Astaroth lifted her hips upwards, making her gasp. “Now we can really start.” “Wait - what do you mean really start?” Astaroth pulled his cock out slightly before pushing it deep into her, hitting the deepest parts and making her gasp for air as she felt like she would rip to pieces on that very moment. When he had moved slowly, she had had time to adjust, but now when the pace was faster, there was no way she would be able to keep up with him, and she felt how her mind became blurry, and only thing she was able to do was to make sweet little sounds that only made Astaroth even more eager to continue. She didn’t want to feel how she did, and even if she fought against her thoughts, she knew that she was lost. She had been raised to fear anything demonic and sinful, and when people mentioned things of that nature, they were never pleasant or lead to good things. However, now, when she could witness that, she couldn’t help but to wonder where people had gotten their opinions, and if everything she had learned through her life had been a lie, and what would happen if she gave in to her feelings, the hotness of her body, and the lust in her mind. She wasn't a religious person, but something in her brain made her fearful if she would be punished because of what she did, if someone would strike her down and if she was doomed eternally because of this. God was someone she rarely thought of, and definitely not someone she anticipated to think during the act of sin and everything forbidden. “You’re awfully quiet, love.” Astaroth breathed into her ear. “Are you still scared?” “I don’t want to be tormented. Not for eternity.” “Be not afraid.” He said almost in a joyful tone. “The only torment I’m going to make you suffer will be something you will beg me to do.” She felt how her body started to get more sensitive by every second, every time Astaroth moved in her, and how it became increasingly harder not to moan when he did. One part of her wanted to fight back, even in a situation like that, but another one knew that whatever would happen was not in her control, but what she could do was to enjoy it as much as possible. “What if I don’t want to resist?” She panted. “Oh, that’s lovely to hear. Did you come to accept reality this quickly?” “God, why can’t I just wake up.” “No, no god here.” Astaroth sighed. “Don’t say that, I know that I’m better. I want to hear something different from you.” “What -?” Her sentence was cut short when Astaroth pushed to her with a force much greater than previously, and she had no way to hold her gasp back when she did. Although there had been time for her to adjust to his cock, the way he moved made it seem like there had been little to no preparation, and she felt like she was about to burst when he picked up the pace. She gazed at Astaroth, a handsome demon with dark skin and flaming eyes, and lust won over fear, making her move her body to at least somewhat match his pace. The hold of his tail loosened around her wrist, releasing them as he pressed his body against hers, allowing her to dig her nails to the back of his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed as close to him as humanly possible, breathing in his scent and letting out moans as she felt how his cock pulsed, making her fear if it would grow even bigger than it already was. “Say that you want me. I want to hear it here, not in your dreams. Say how you want me to make you mine.” “Please - I can’t take much more.” Her voice was merely a whimper. “Say my name.” She gasped for air as he pushed to the deepest parts of her, and she had to focus to keep herself from melting completely away. “Astaroth, please.” Astaroth let out a low growl when he reached his climax, and she felt how a burning liquid flooded her, only for him to keep continuing as she feared of how much she could take. His cum filled her insides, and when his pace finally started to slow down, she was sure that she wouldn’t be able to lift a muscle tomorrow. When he pulled out, the cum leaked from her pussy to her thighs, yet still she knew that there would be much more that was burning her insides. “As I said darling, when dealing with incubi the deal goes both ways. So I hope you don’t think this would be sufficient to match everything I’ve already given to you.” She was too dazed to answer. Too tired to move when he laid next to her, brushing her hair. But when she had begged for him, she knew that she had gotten into something bigger than humanly imaginable. Yet when she closed her eyes, she didn’t think about anything else than at least now she could sleep peacefully, even if it meant that she was bound to an incubus.

#my story #incubus #demon #monster fucker #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #third person but basically a reader insert #possesive love

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