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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 3 days

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DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

“You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold. So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts. After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.” Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc memes #dead on main ship #dead on main #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc fic

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moonsaver · 2 days

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Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

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bbydoll18xx · 12 hours

Text

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Pt 2)

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Part 2 based on this request:

Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).

Word Count: 2.3k

You can read part 1 here

Thank you all so much for all the love on part 1! I was actually surprised how much everyone seemed to be enjoying this. That said, there will be another part (and maybe more) to this!

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

You wake up the next morning to your phone blowing up. Yawning and squinting, you look over at the myriad of notifications. Confusion overtakes you, but you quickly deduce that your stunt with Paige had finally gotten some real attention.

You spend the morning scrolling every app, trying to hide the worry bubbling up inside of you. Most people seemed to be satisfied with your performance; others were comparing you to Azzi in a cruel way. The general consensus was that you and Paige couldn’t possibly be dating; apparently it was because you hadn’t kissed.

You typically did not give a shit what people thought of you, but the idea of being compared to someone as effortlessly charismatic as Azzi made you want to crawl into a hole and hide forever. You could spend your entire life trying to emulate her success and beauty.

Despite your self-esteem crumbling around you, you still wanted to finish what you started. People were counting on you, and your damn people-pleasing self needed to prove a point. You decide your moping would have to wait. Grabbing your camera and iPad, you head out to the arena where you knew the girls would be practicing.

You feel shy walking in on the basketball team. Your hands are clammy, and you wipe them on your pants before giving a small wave to a hungover-looking Paige. Her eyes are tired and ringed with a bruise-colored tinge. Usually she glowed at practice, hogging your camera and deliberately showing off. Today, though, you can see the exhaustion rolling off of her.

For a minuscule second, you allow yourself to wonder if maybe she was up all night thinking about you, just as you thought about her. You internally scold yourself. Getting your hopes up was the last thing you needed.

For once, you are relieved to be focusing on some of the other basketball players, trying to avoid Paige until you get your emotions in order. Your mood shifted as you observed the girls’ antics. They took turns shooting difficult shots in your honor, pointing to you when a ball landed through the net with a satisfying swish.

Once Geno concludes the practice, a handful of the girls run up to you, wanting to hear the details of your and Paige’s night. You shrug, trying to downplay what had happened, when you feel Paige’s presence behind you. Her hand slides down your back, resting on your waist with a weight that feels so damn good.

A look of surprise graces your face, along with multiple of Paige’s teammates.

“Uh, is this a real thing now, or what?” Nika questions.

“Guess we’ll have to see,” Paige smirks in response, causing your mouth to drop open ineptly.

Ignoring the blonde’s shocking retort, Azzi clears her throat and explains that the girls were going out drinking tonight. “Please join us! It’ll be so fun, all you gotta do is kiss Paige. That’ll be enough proof for everyone, and then you can be done,” she follows quickly. The words spill out, and she rouses the rest of the team to convince you that it would be so, so fun.

You turn your head up towards Paige, searching her face for any clue that this was crossing a line. Her familiar smirk was still resting on her lips. It widens as she realizes you’re staring at them.

Fuck. So much for attempting to be subtle.

Hiding your embarrassment, you acquiesce, swearing to yourself that you would keep your feelings under wraps.

It was decided that you and Paige would meet the rest of the team at the bar at 11:00. As Paige knocks on your dorm door, you want to do everything possible to get yourself out of this situation. The idea of kissing Paige made every nerve feel like it was on fire. You weren’t sure if you’d survive the build up of it.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Paige says softly, looking you up and down once the door tentatively opens.

“Hey, P,” you whisper, hoping she couldn’t hear the shakiness of your voice. Paige takes your hand, something that was beginning to feel so natural and so domestic; she leads you out the door and into her car. With one hand on the wheel and one delicately placed on your upper thigh, you chat about the roles you had to play one final time tonight. You sense a tone of hesitancy in her voice, but you ignore it in favor of attempting to suppress your own.

Paige’s car turns into the parking lot of the bar, and once it's parked, she turns to you, saying “Are you sure you’re okay with all this? Azzi can get over it if you’re not.”

“I'm sure, P. As long as you are comfortable, I am, too,” you respond sincerely. She nods, satisfied with your answer, and with deep breaths, you head inside.

The bar was packed with throngs of drunk students enjoying the weekend. You wish you could enjoy yourself, but your anxiety was threatening to make you vomit.

Your head is reeling with all the negative thoughts you could possibly conjure.

‘What if Paige thinks I’m a bad kisser?’

‘What if I accidentally bite her?’

‘What if Paige is dreading this?’

The hypothetical questions were going to be the actual death of you, and you attempt to quiet them with a drink.

Or five.

The first couple of shots you take don’t hit you until 30 minutes later. The familiar feeling of intoxication is welcomed like an old friend. You really weren’t the type to go wild, but your desire to just forget took over. The third and fourth go down like water, sliding through your veins and into the heat of your core.

You're swaying your hips sensually with the beat of the blaring music, arms loose at your sides, occasionally sloshing around the pink beverage in your cup.

You don't even care how stupid you looked because you felt so damn free, finally unchained from the anxieties of the past few days.

A touch on your waist breaks through your drunken haze, pulling you back to reality.

Shit, your waist is getting a lot of attention these days.

You turn around quickly, hair whipping theatrically, expecting to see Paige. Boy were you mistaken.

Your glossy eyes are met with the brown eyes of a man you had never seen before. You don’t miss the pang of disappointment you feel once you realize it’s not the tall blonde you were hoping to see.

Rolling your eyes and huffing, you turn back around, once more trying to figure out where Paige had ended up. Short, drunken boys were the least of your concerns right now.

Seeing that Azzi was close by, you stumble towards her, slurring out “Where’d my Paigey go?”

Her eyes light up at your use of the pet name, and she grins. “She just went to get you water, remember? You drank a shit ton.”

Suddenly remembering the way she had whispered into your ear to stay close to the girls of the basketball team, you blush at your own forgetfulness.

Maybe you really did need that water.

Paige is back a minute later. Foregoing handing you the bottle, she is already unscrewing it and placing it against your lips.

Fuck. It reminds you of the night before; the cup placed against your lips, and the way her wide, blue eyes had watched you protectively.

You welcome the way the cool water slides down your throat, already sore from singing loudly and attempting to talk over the pumping of the music.

You drank until Paige was satisfied, never breaking eye contact with her. She pulls the bottle away from you, wiping the excess water from your lips with her thumb and then bringing it to her own lips, sucking the liquid off.

Your head spins at the contact. Maybe that was just the alcohol, but you doubted it.

Tucking you into her side, Paige plays with a strand of your hair, swirling her fingers around it in a way that was almost sinful. She looks down at you as you make a guttural noise, attempting to play it off as a cough. Her long fingers continue their assault on your hair, before they dance along your shoulder to your collarbones. Goosebumps trail after her digits, eliciting a shiver to run down your spine and straight between your legs.

She had you completely and irrevocably fucked.

It was getting late, and you knew that with the time slipping away, your moment to kiss Paige was soon approaching. Your brain battled between wanting to get the deed over with and drawing everything out for as long as possible. You didn’t want this to end.

You tug Paige over to sit in a tall bar stool, attempting to alleviate the pain in your feet. She helps you climb up, holding the chair steady as you perch, sighing in relief.

Paige stands in between your spread legs, meeting your eyes with an inquisitive expression. She was feeling you out, trying to deduce your own thoughts.

If only she knew what you were actually thinking.

Before you can bow out under the heat of her intense stare, you lean in to her. The look she gives you, one of longing and desperation, is the only confirmation you need.

And you kiss her as if she was air, and you had been drowning for a thousand years.

Your lips meet in a passionate embrace. Paige’s lips were as soft as they looked; you would know. You had spent a considerable amount of time staring at them, wondering how they felt and how they tasted.

As you find a rhythm, Paige’s tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, coaxing a lustful moan from your mouth. It goes straight to Paige’s core. You are lost in each other’s presence, the chaos around you slipping away until hoots of laughter and gasps of surprise slam you back into reality.

You reluctantly pull away from the blonde, surveying the damage of the kiss. People had their phones out, directly pointed at the two of you.

Perfect. Azzi would be happy.

Looking back to Paige, you see the impact of your affections; her lips swollen and cheeks flushed in a way that had you smirking proudly.

“I think that’s our cue” Paige mumbles, her warm breath hitting the sensitive flesh of your earlobe once again. You nod quickly, trying to avoid looking over eager, but that was most likely null and void at this point.

In a dramatic display, Paige picks you up off the tall chair and sets you back on to your feet, steadying you as you sway. You wave to the onlookers, a cheesy grin engulfing your face. Paige shakes her head fondly, winking to those still watching, and pulls you out of the bar and into the parking lot.

She all but lifts you into the passenger seat of her car, handing you another bottle of water. She softly urges you to drink, which you do without fail. You want to cut through the remnants of your drunkenness, desperate to fixate on every part of Paige.

You were terrified you’d forget what she tasted like and the way her lips slid against yours.

You look over at the blonde, her face illuminated from the streetlights, and her hand once more splayed across your thigh.

She was so beautiful.

But was she yours? You had no fucking idea.

Your thoughts send you reeling as you sip your water, but you take solace in the fact that your worrying meant you were sobering up. The car smoothly turns into the parking lot of Paige’s apartment, and once you are parked, she looks over at you expectantly. You meet Paige’s eyes with a confused look of your own.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” She asks with an air of shyness you weren’t used to.

You bite your lip in response, pretending to ponder, before choking out a response in agreement.

Of course, you wanted to stay over.

You followed her up to her door, feeling more steady than you were at the bar and waited as she unlocked it. Your nerves were starting to rile you up again, and your heartbeat pounded in your ears, temporarily silencing the vexatious doubts your brain was throwing at you.

Paige wastes no time throwing off her uncomfortable clothes, replacing them with her usual sweats. Somehow, she looked even better.

Grabbing a pair for you, she ushers you to the bathroom, pointing out everything you needed to get ready for bed. Thanking her with a small smile, you close the door and prepare.

‘It’s just another sleepover,’ you think. ‘You’ve done this dozens of times before. You can do it again.’ The self assurance calms you, giving you enough confidence to walk back into Paige’s room and lay down on her bed next to her.

The room was dark already, but the glow of her computer cast a gleam over the two of you. There was no hiding from her. Not anymore.

“Have you seen what people are saying?” You ask, in a not so subtle attempt to see where her head was at.

“Yeah, I have,” Paige responds. “I think they believe it now. Don’t really blame them. That kiss was…” She trails off, unable to sum up the words of how that kiss made her feel.

“Intense,” you finish, sleep starting to creep into your body.

Paige hums in agreement, and wraps her arms around you, pulling her close to you.

You shut your eyes, the blissful warmth radiating off of Paige pulling you into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

And once more, your dreams are filled with images of Paige’s lips and the overwhelming need to be hers.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige #paige x reader #friends to lovers #fake dating #fluff

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justlemmeadoreyou · 3 days

Text

curves*

a plus-size!y/n fic

words: 3k

warnings: mentions of insecurities and bullying, smut, p in v sex, daddy-kink, creampie, kissing, dirty talk.

The mirror taunts you as you stand before it, clad in just your underwear. Your eyes trace the soft curves that spill over your bra, the swell of your belly, the fullness of your thighs. A familiar lump forms in your throat as those old insecurities threaten to resurface.

You can still hear the echoes of cruel laughter from your school days. The harsh whispers of "fatty" and "whale" bounce around in your mind like shards of broken glass. For so long, you believed those hurtful words, letting them shape your self-perception.

But then Harry came into your life, like a soothing balm on those deep-seeded wounds.

"Y/N? Baby, you in here?"

His warm voice summons you back to the present, and you quickly grab your robe, wrapping it around your body as a shield. "Y-Yeah, just getting ready," you call back, averting your eyes from the judgmental mirror.

The bathroom door opens, and Harry steps in, his brows furrowed with concern. "Hey, what's wrong? You've been in here a while."

You open your mouth, but the words get tangled in your throat. How can you explain this recurring battle, the one you thought you'd won long ago? The feelings of inadequacy still linger like a parasite.

But then Harry's arms encircle you from behind, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, emerald eyes finding yours in the mirror. "Talk to me, love."

A shaky exhale escapes your lips as you instinctively lean back into his solid embrace. "I was just...thinking about the past. The names I got called, the way I got treated because of my body."

Harry's reflection tightens his jaw, and you know he's picturing all the ignorant arseholes who ever made you feel less-than. His large hand settles on your stomach, warm and reassuring.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N. Every delicious curve of you." His voice is a deep, gravelly rumble against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "And anyone who couldn't see that can fuck right off."

A watery laugh bubbles up from your chest at his blunt words. Only Harry can make you feel so cherished and Protected one moment, and turn around and cuss like a sailor the next. You turn in his arms to face him properly, looping your own around his neck.

"I know, babe. You've helped me see myself differently, to appreciate this body instead of hating it. I've come so far in loving myself." You shake your head minutely, chasing away those last tendrils of doubt. "Most days, I do feel confident and sexy as hell. But sometimes..."

"...sometimes those shitty voices from the past still echo a little too loudly," Harry finishes for you with a sad, knowing smile.

You nod, fresh tears pricking the corners or your eyes. "Yeah...Exactly."

His large hands come up to cradle your face, calloused thumbs brushing away the stray tears. "Oh, my sweet, radiant girl. You're the most gorgeous, vibrant woman I've ever laid eyes on." His intense gaze bores into you, willing you to believe his words.

"You say that now, but what if -?"

"Stop," Harry cuts you off firmly. "Don't even go there, yeah? My feelings for you, the way I look at you and desire you, that's not gonna change. Whether you gain weight, lose weight, stay exactly the same. I don't give a fuck, because you'll always be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

His passionate declaration sends a fresh wave of affection swirling through your veins. You tilt your face up, seeking the solace of his lips in a slow, smoldering kiss.

Harry groans into your mouth, big hands skimming down your sides to pull you flush against his body. The hard planes of his chest press against the soft swell of your breasts through the thin robe.

"Feel that?" He husks out in a gravelly tone as he grinds his rapidly growing arousal against your lower belly. "That's what you do to me, baby. Just existing in all your glory does that."

You whimper at the heated promise in his words, at the undisguised lust simmering in those bright emerald irises. Harry loves and worships every lush inch of you, and you bask in the affirmation.

Looping your fingers through his lustrous chestnut locks, you angle your head for another drugging kiss. Maybe later you'll be able to see your beauty and sexiness reflected in the mirror, too. But for now, Harry's adoring gaze is more than enough.

***

A few nights later, you wake up in a tangle of sheets, your nude form deliciously intertwined with Harry's. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm, hazy glow.

Even in sleep, Harry's arm is curled protectively around your waist, fingertips splayed possessively over the dip of your lower back. His handsome face is smoothed in peaceful slumber, those pink lips parted around quiet snores.

Unable to resist, you nuzzle closer and brush a feather-light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw.

Harry stirs at the gentle caress, emerald eyes fluttering open in a sleepy squint as a lazy grin tugs at his lips. "Mmm, good morning to you too, beautiful."

"Hi," you murmur, ducking your head shyly as your cheeks warm.

Even after all this time together, after all the layers of yourself you've peeled back for this man, his open adoration and unguarded desire still manage to fluster you. One look from those searing green eyes has your heart racing like a smitten teenager.

With a quiet chuckle, Harry hooks a finger under your chin to tilt your face up towards his own. His smile softens into something so tender, so reverent, it makes your chest ache sweetly.

"Why're you blushin' so pretty, my girl?"

You nibble on your lower lip, suddenly bashful under his intense yet worshipful scrutiny. Your eyes rake over the cut lines of Harry's face, tracing the barely-there sprinkling of chest hair that tapers down his toned abdomen. Even sleep-rumpled and unguarded, he looks like some kind of mythic forest god come to life.

"Just admiring the view, I s'pose." Somehow, your self-consciousness evaporates the longer Harry gazes at you with open longing and love. You feel powerful and whole and sexy while naked beneath his stare.

Harry exhales a low noise of approval, skimming his knuckles along the soft curve of your cheek. "Is that so? Well, don't let me stop you then, princess."

He stretches languidly beside you, all lean muscle and sun-kissed skin and tousled bedroom hair. Like a lion awakening from an afternoon nap - regal and rugged and irresistible.

You swallow thickly against a spike of renewed arousal watching those lithe muscles flex and bunch under his tanned skin. Emboldened, you take your time visually drinking in every hard line and sinuous dip of his bare form, from broad shoulders to narrow hips and muscular thighs you love having clamped around your own.

But soon your own curves demand equal ogling rights.

Harry's heated viridian stare tracks hungrily down to your full breasts, sides spilling over ever so slightly as you stretch back against the pillows. His tongue instinctively swipes out to wet his lips at the sight of you.

Your hand drifts down to palm over one shapely globe, squeezing lightly while holding Harry's rapt gaze. You watch his pupils dilate further as you pluck at the tight bud, rolling the pert nipple between your fingertips until it furls into a stiff peak.

"Like what you see, daddy?"

A guttural rumble vibrates from deep in Harry's chest at your mewled words, like he's a big cat about to pounce. His broad hand suddenly cups around the side of your other breast, kneading and plumping the heavy weight of it.

"Fuckin' love what I see," he rumbles, gravelly tone dripping with pure sin. "Such a gorgeous girl you are, princess. Plump and soft and perfect for your daddy."

Your breath hitches sharply at his praise, arousal thrumming through your veins. Harry's hand maps an exploratory path across your ribs and lower, caressing over the gentle swell of your tummy before spanning wide over the curve of your hips.

"Built so sweet for me, hmm?" Harry croons, rutting his rapidly stiffening length against the plush swell of your outer thigh. "Such lush curves to grab onto while I fuck up into that greedy little cunt."

You whine high in your throat at his filthy words, legs instinctively falling open in silent invitation. Harry takes the hint, shifting to blanket your body with his solid weight as he settles in the cradle of your hips. His prominent arousal now notches snugly against your clothed core, providing a delicious tease of friction.

"You see what you do to me, baby girl?" he growls against the heated skin of your neck. "Get me so fuckin' hard just existing in all your glory."

Another whimpery plea spills past your parted lips as Harry grinds down with purpose. You can already feel the insistent ridge of his cock leaving a damp smear through the thin lace of your knickers.

Tangling your fingers into his wild chestnut tresses, you yank Harry's mouth up to crash against your own in a messy, desperate kiss. He groans deep in his chest, hips picking up a heavy circling rhythm to rut his thick length between your molten folds.

"Jesus, you're so wet already," Harry hisses out in approval as his hand trails down to cup your mound. "Such a messy girl for daddy."

Cheeks flushed and chest heaving, you hook one leg high over his powerful thighs to grant him better access. Harry doesn't hesitate before plunging two thick digits into your drenched entrance with one smooth stroke.

"Oh fuck!" The broken cry tears from your throat as he immediately sets a punishing pace, calloused fingertips expertly massaging your striated inner walls.

"That's it, let daddy hear how good he makes you feel," Harry groans against the swell of your parted lips, kissing you hungrily. His palm grinds perfectly against your neglected clit with each measured pump into your fluttering channel.

You whine into his mouth, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each inward glide of his fingers in a filthy grind. This is Harry's favorite way to make love to you - lavishing attention on every soft, lush inch with his hands and mouth and reverent words until you're a boneless, whimpering mess in his arms.

You cry out sharply when his thumb grazes your throbbing bundle of nerves, thighs tensing around Harry's pumping fist. But he slows his strokes to just short teasing thrusts, barely breaching your entrance now.

"Nu-uh, none of that just yet, princess." He tutts with a devilish grin. Harry loves to take you right to the brink before pulling you back onto sweet, delicious simmer. "Not until I'm buried so deep inside that perfect pussy."

Your heavy-lidded gaze meets his, all dark lust and wanton need. With a strained whine, you snake one hand down between your bodies to curl around the velvet steel of his achingly hard prick. Harry groans brokenly, pumping into your tight fist in tandem with his shallow thrusts into your core.

"Want you inside me so bad, daddy," you whimper, hooking your ankles high around his flexing backside to urge him closer. You can feel the slick, swollen tip of him catching against your entrance on each tortuously brief inward glide. "Need your big cock splitting me open."

A ragged growl rumbles in Harry's throat, fingers stilling inside your dripping channel. His large frame tenses above you, emerald eyes blazing down at where your smaller hand works his straining shaft with languorous pulls.

"Such a filthy little mouth, princess. Gonna make daddy fuck it so good..."

With one deft tug, he rips away the tiny scrap of lace barely clinging between your thighs, leaving you completely nude and splayed open for his hungry perusal. Harry pumps his glistening fingers in and out a few times more, drinking in the way your body arches and whimpers at the welcome intrusion.

Then, with an obscene squelch, he pulls his digits free of your clutching heat, leaving you clenching around empty air. You keen softly at the loss, thighs squeezing around his hips in silent pleading.

But Harry just smirks wickedly and brings his drenched fingers up to circle your puffy lower lip. When you automatically part your mouth with a wrecked groan, he presses the thick digits inside, letting you suckle your own tangy essence from his calloused skin

"There's a good girl," he praises in a thick, husky rasp. "Get that clever little mouth all warmed up for me, hmm?"

You swirl your tongue enthusiastically around the welcome intrusion, eyelashes fluttering as you savor your musky tart taste clinging to Harry's fingers. He watches you with ravenous dark eyes, hips twitching unconsciously like he's battling the urge to sink into your drenched heat.

Finally though, Harry drags his digits free with a slick pop, leaving your lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Without preamble, he palms his impressive length, giving himself a few firm tugs before notching the swollen head right against your fluttering entrance.

The thick blunt pressure makes you gasp out a broken moan, all thoughts fleeing as your eyes roll back. Harry rocks his powerful hips forward in one sinuous grind until he's fully sheathed inside your velvet depths. You both groan in unison, bodies flushed skin-to-skin as he sinks deeper and deeper until he's bottomed out completely.

"Fuck, always so fucking tight 'round me," Harry grits out through a clenched jaw.

You shift your hips restlessly, inner muscles fluttering around the ribbed intrusion spearing you open so exquisitely. A sense of completeness settles over you, every nerve ending thrumming with euphoric fullness.

"Move, please...need you to move," you beg breathily, fingertips digging into the taut muscles of Harry's lower back.

He growls in compliance, pulling almost all the way out with one long torturous glide before slamming back home. The brutal stroke punches the air from your lungs in one harsh gasp. Above you, Harry plants his palms on either side of your head, framed by bulging biceps as he sets a piston-rhythm sure to have you crying out his name soon enough.

Your hands find purchase gripping the globes of his arse, fingertips digging divots in the muscular flesh as you urge his thick cock even deeper inside with every frantic snap of his hips.

"So good, so good, please don't stop..." The litany spills unheeded from your slick lips, words tangling together along with broken moans and whines. Your world narrows to just the unbearably sinuous glide of his thick shaft as it splits you open over and over, your soft body jolting with the force of each collision.

Sweat soon sheens both your bodies as you strain and cling to one another, the steady creaking of the bedframe echoing through the room. Harry's forehead slams against your own, panted breaths mingling hotly in the scant space between you.

"Look at me, baby girl." His grit-rough tone commands your heavy-lidded gaze back to his searing emerald stare. "Look how fuckin' perfect and delicious you are, taking every inch like a sweet lil' angel."

His words alone are enough to send your vision whiting out for a dizzying moment, every muscle convulsing around the penetrating shaft buried so deeply inside. A wild keening punches out of your throat, your orgasm cresting and shattering over you sudden and explosive. Harry snarls like a savage beast, hips jackhammering harder and faster as your convulsing inner walls clasp around him in fluttering waves of ecstasy.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Harry tenses fully above you, powerful frame locking up as his own rapture overtakes him. You cry out again at the feeling of his essence flooding your spasming depths, scalding heat spreading through your very core.

It's always like this with Harry, your passion igniting a wildfire that consumes every rational thought until you're both rendered to pure id and physicality. Dimly, you're aware of his arms trembling violently to keep from crushing you beneath his solid weight as you both slowly float back down to earth, one quivering boned creature.

Eventually, Harry's hips still against the cradle of your thighs, buried balls-deep as you milk the very last pulses of heat from his spurting cock, hips twitching in the aftershocks as he released his load inside you. He sighs against your damp neck, his curls sticking to his own forehead as his lips leave a trail of kisses over your steadying pulse.

***

Y/N's gaze drifted over to the mirror, once again, but this time no self-doubt or criticism was clouding her vision. Cocooned in Harry's strong arms, she felt powerful, beautiful, and truly at peace with herself. His love was like a radiant force protecting her from lingering insecurities.

She turned her face up towards Harry's, drinking in the open adoration shining in his bright eyes. A contented smile tugged at her lips as she traced the line of his chiseled jaw. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "For always seeing the real me."

Harry's arms tightened around her, pulling her closer until their foreheads pressed together. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you, baby." His deep voice was thick with emotion. "You help me find peace too, y'know."

They stayed that way for long, quiet moments, simply basking in the profound intimacy and deep love surrounding them like a warm blanket. The outside world seemed to fade away as Y/N melted further into Harry's embrace.

Eventually, he brushed a feather-light kiss to the tip of her nose, emerald eyes sparkling with pure joy. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up and I'll make us some breakfast, gorgeous."

As they moved around the bedroom, trading gentle caresses and soft laughter, Y/N felt lighter than she had in years. Harry's unwavering love acted as a beacon, guiding her out of the shadows of her past. She knew there might still be difficult days ahead, but she also knew Harry would be by her side through all of it.

Pulling on one of his oversized shirts, she sent him a radiant smile. "I love you, Har. More than I can ever say."

Harry's answering grin was blindingly bright as he gathered her into his arms once more, holding her like something infinitely precious. "I love you too, my radiant girl. Always and forever."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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eupheme · 2 days

Text

— clean slate [into the fire, part v]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing

a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game. But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)

The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.

The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope.

You hadn’t.

His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure.

It doesn't fucking matter.

He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.

Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you.

But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.

It's messy.

It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic.

Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat.

It aches, a deep bruise as it heals.

Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.

I haven't lied about anything.

Didn’t last night mean anything to you?

It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in.

Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you.

That it's easier, for both of you to stick together.

Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.

The small sliver left of another man, from another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound.

He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you.

Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough.

The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead.

Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.

Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber.

Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones.

Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.

A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into.

He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.

Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them.

There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm.

"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs.

The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.

A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.

Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.

Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free.

Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.

But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.

Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest.

Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again.

Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.

Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.

“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way.

Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye.

You both know how this will go, when you get back home.

Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart.

Maybe he’d show.

But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after.

“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.

The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart.

But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.

There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge.

No one was coming for you.

The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin.

Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.

But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him.

Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.

A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls.

The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below.

Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.

Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience.

All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret.

Comin' after a girl then, too.

Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind.

Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago.

Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back.

But he's never much liked being underground.

Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.

He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through.

A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that.

Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you.

Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons.

But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.

Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.

The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.

The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow.

“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.

Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet.

A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”

His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”

The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth.

It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently.

Maybe he’d been a fool, after all.

Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.

Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away.

“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”

There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation.

“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”

That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”

It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.

“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes.

Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after.

The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck.

Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.

One down.

Hold on , he thinks.

I’m coming.

His whistle echoes in the chamber.

Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him.

Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.

Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.

A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.

His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery.

There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death.

It rankles him, teeth set on edge.

A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice.

“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”

Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.

The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember.

“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”

There’s a pause at that.

One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck.

His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.

“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”

The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice.

“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”

It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.

“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers.

“Think you know.”

“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”

A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”

If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back.

The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.

Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been.

Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you.

A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him.

His girl.

Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor.

His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash.

“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”

There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires.

The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second.

Always too goddamn slow.

Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado.

Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired.

He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.

A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door.

Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.

Padded armor won’t do much to stop him.

“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.

The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back.

It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast.

Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought.

He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…

That this won’t take too long.

In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.

For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices.

One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.

Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat.

The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched.

The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments.

Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal.

He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.

A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting.

He had blown through them like it was nothing.

“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.

“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”

He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.

“You got them.”

“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower.

“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.

“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.

He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement.

“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head.

“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”

There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs.

“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”

There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.

“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”

Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”

His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.

“I’m thinkin we’re square.”

The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did.

“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you.

Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years.

You’re not able to resist.

Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw.

A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering.

“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.

His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.

Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.

His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer.

“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.

The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.

“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”

“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands.

“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”

A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.

“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”

the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕

#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

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milkteabinniechan · 2 days

Note

hellooo! can i request a fan fic w bangchan x chubby reader angst; where yn starts to feel very disgusted abt herself at the point she end up crying into chan’s arms saying she doesn’t even feel feminine?

take ur time! ps: i love ur blog 😫😫

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

warnings: body image issues, fat shaming, angst. (thank you for this suggestion it was very healing<3)

♡Just for Me - Chan

"No, leave the lights on." You begged.

The world had been cruel today. Just ruthless. And the bedroom light served as a spotlight for all of the imperfections laid into your skin. You crossed both of your arms over your stomach and turned your head away from Chan. Your chest tightened as painful reminders flooded your brain. How tight your dress was today. Seeing your own reflection in the window of a passing car, the window of a building.

Your own mother's voice echoing in effortless fashion behind your own; stretch marks, really? Are you really that big? I was never that big at your age. Men don't like their women so LARGE.

"Baby...?" Chan's voice cooed. "What's wrong?" His head tilted, his brow furrowed. He glanced down to see your arms crossed over your stomach, your legs squeezing together as if you were trying to make yourself smaller.

The tightening in your chest proved too much until the verge of tears had become a drowning flood. Chan held you close as you sobbed. You felt so incredibly gross. So indescribably unattractive. You asked him how he could love someone like this. Someone like you. Chan held your face in his hands. He kissed both of your cheeks lightly and whispered "let me show you."

Chan leaned his head down and kissed your arms, the barrier you had built to hide your beautiful body from him. He continued to kiss down your torso, reaching the exposed skin below your forearms. Chan hummed into you.

"You're so soft..." He whispered deeply.

You squirmed from beneath his plump lips. He was determined to make you love every part of yourself. It was his favorite thing to do. Your gorgeous figure lit something inside of him. His hot breath was beginning to fill your body up with the sensation you so desperately craved, but felt like you seldomed deserved. A moan escaped your lips.

Chan smiled and let his hands swim up your legs to your stomach. He gently rubbed and massaged until your lifted your arms up and out of the way. He lazily kissed every inch of your stomach that he could reach, until he had to roll you over to your side and continue his loving journey to your back. Every roll, every crease, every curve received a passionate and affectionate kiss.

"I want you. Every part of you," Chan paused to lock eyes with you, "You were made just for me."

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 14 hours

Text

Obedience

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k (Oops? This started as a ficlet, but it sort of got away from me... Oh well)

Summary: Wanda has to teach you obedience and sometimes that means doing as Mommy tells you, even if you don't want to.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, obedience training, edging, ruined orgasm, praise, pussy spanking, use of vibrator, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, Mommy Kink;

Masterlist with all my works.

Cruel Mommy Wanda, who puts you through obedience training, because she wants her special girl to always listen to Mommy, no matter how hard, or unfair, or down right mean her commands are. “Take your panties off.” She’d say, almost off handedly, while the two of you are at the door, ready to go out. “But you said we’re leaving…” You’d protest and she’ll only give you a stern look. “Yes, and I want you with no panties on.” Wanda would explain, watching the hesitation flash across your face before you comply. She’d have to train you out of that, she thought to herself, opening the front door, while you were still holding your panties. “Give them to Mommy.” She’d offer you her outstretched hand, watching you try to hide what you have in your hand while you give the panties to her. Wanda only puts them in her purse and guides you to the car, opening the passenger door for you and helping you inside, before she takes her seat at the wheel.

She touches you teasingly and edges you all the way to the store as punishment for your hesitation, all the while she explains that Mommy always knows best and you should never question her. If she wanted you to do something, than you must trust that she knows what’s best. And if she wanted you to hand your panties over to her, you should simply do so, without any reservations. If someone was to see, then it was your Mommy’s wish and that was final. As you walked through the store, your bare pussy leaking juices that smeared across your thighs, you could only think of that lesson, desperate to go back home, so you can beg Wanda to take care of the ache between your legs. Or she’ll message you during class and order you to send her a picture of your pussy. It’s not a request, it’s an order, but you still hesitate. “Mommy, I’m in class.” You’ll send her a text back and from the quick “Now!” that you get, you know you made a mistake. You quickly make an excuse and leave, to do as you are told, and once she receives her picture, you think you’ll be done, but Wanda is adamant that you have to learn obedience. She makes you slap your own pussy, right there and then and she tells you that she wants another picture. “If that pussy isn’t red enough for my liking, little girl, Mommy will spank that pussy till it’s raw.” She sends quickly and you only stare at the message with wide eyes, but you know better than to disobey. You know her hand will be much crueller than yours can ever be. Over time you learn your lesson, each mistake, each hesitation was followed by cruel punishments, until you stopped thinking twice before you do as you’re told and Wanda couldn’t be prouder, but she still wants to test the limit of your obedience, so she makes you kneel on your shared bed, legs open and your hands behind your back, while she pulls out your favorite vibrator and lays it under you. She’s left you denied for a few days now, just to makes this all the more tempting and she watches your inner struggle while she switches the vibrator on.

“Go on, my love, lower yourself on it.” She tells you, her voice sweet and calm and so much kinder than her assessing eyes. You do as you are told, the vibrations so good against your needy clit. You want to grind on it, but you know better than to take more than is offered and Wanda practically beams with pride. “Look at you! You’ve come so far, my darling girl. Mommy trained you well.” She smiles, her gentle hand caressing your cheek. It makes you blush. “Thank you, Mommy.” You smile up at her making Wanda’s eyes sparkle, her heart swelling with love. She lets you stay that way, until you start to get close, offering you sweet kisses, her hands roaming your body and teasing your nipples. She marks your neck, sucks purple marks on your shoulders and collar bones, her steady hands groping your ass and squeezing the tender flesh. “Are you getting close, love?” She asks when your cute whimpers turn to moans of pleasure. You give her a nod, eyes pleading with her silently and Wanda smiles. Now the real test starts. “Get up.” She tells you calmly and she is impressed that you do as you are told instantly, even if it makes you whine at the loss of contact. “Was that mean, baby? Did you want to come?” She asks, her voice velvety. “Yes, Mommy. So mean. I want to come.” You admit shamelessly. “Hmmm…” She pretends to think. “Get back down on it, then.” She tells you, but she keeps her hands away now. She wants to see if you will obey her with no help from her at all. She wants to push your limits. And when you get close again, eyes closing in pleasure, chest starting to heave, her voice rings out again. “Up.” She demands and your body instantly follows even if you squirm restlessly. “Such a good listener, baby. Down.” She praises, letting you get back down on the vibrator.

You sigh in relief, a small sound instantly replaced by a moan as you feel that glorious feeling rise within you again. You’re so close and it makes you feel restless. You want to come so badly. You haven’t had a release in days and you’re desperate. Desperate to please her, to make her happy, to keep being her good girl. Desperate to earn your reward. “Get up.” Wanda commands when she feels you’re close, smiling when you once again do as you’re told. She’s so proud of you in this moment. Her perfect, obedient girl. “Please.” You let out a high-pitched whine, clenching your hands behind your back even tighter, resisting the urge to pull her close and beg while you leave sweet kisses on her face. Wanda loves that. Loves when you climb on top of her and start to kiss her all over, begging sweetly for whatever it is you need. Usually an orgasm. But today she doesn’t want you to beg. Not that she doesn’t like it. Quite the contrary actually, but it’s not the point. Today you just have to obey. “Do you want to come, darling?” She asks sweetly, almost cooing at how adorable you are. “Yes! Mommy, please? Please.” You beg again. “So you’re desperate?” Wanda questions, eyes narrowing to the spot between your legs, seeing your slick juices clinging to your folds. You’re soaked. Ready to be ravished and thoroughly ruined, just the way she likes you. “Yes, Mommy, please.” You nod at her, eyes wide and full of hope. “Lower yourself down then. Show me how badly you need to cum.” You do as you’re told, your body following her orders even before you’ve processed the words. Wanda can’t help but marvel at it. But she’s not satisfied just yet. She wants to see if you will do as told, even when you don’t like it. As your clit meets the vibrator again, you gasp. It feels so good. But before you know it, Wanda makes you remove yourself from the stimulation. She makes you edge yourself over and over again, each time letting you get a little closer, before she makes you pull away. “Up.” Wanda demands once more. You don’t know how many times you’ve done this now. This time you were a breath away from orgasming and she knows it, but you did as you were told. “Was that cruel, baby? Making you stop when you were so close?” She asks with a smile. “Yes.” You gasp, and she chuckles.

It doesn’t bother her that you admit to her cruelty. She can admit it too. She’s being mean to you right now, but then again, you like it. You like her little games, like it when she edges you, when she denies you sometimes, when she overstimulates you too. Honestly, you love everything she does to you, because at the end of the day, you love being hers. You were meant to be her submissive little girl and you will always stay that way. “One more time, baby. Put your clit on the vibrator.” Wanda instructs. Her eyes are so hungry now. You’ve done so well this far. You were magnificent. But she has one more test. The moan you let out when you feel the vibrator against your clit is mothing short of spectacular. So is the rising orgasm within you. You could feel it grow with each edge and now, you were ready to explode. The tidal wave of pleasure reaches its peak a few seconds later and you feel it start to tip over and you brace yourself for one of the most amazing orgasms of your life, when Wanda’s voice rings out again, loud and clear. “Up!” She commands sharply and you do so immediately, but it’s too late. The orgasm washes through you, ruined now, without the stimulation. You cry out in frustration, hips jerking pointlessly in the air, while your clit throbs without a single touch. “Did you cum, sweetheart?” Wanda asks, lifting your face up, so you would look at her. “Yes.” You nod sullenly. “Did you feel any pleasure?” She asks again, eyes inquisitive as she still holds your face. “No, Mommy.” You pout. You sound so whiny. “So there’s no way that you’re satisfied.” Wanda concludes and you shake your head. “Good.” She determines and she switches the vibrator off, pulling it from underneath you. “What do you say?” She asks expectantly. “Thank you, Mommy.” You say, still kneeling on the bed, arms pinned behind your back, just as she had ordered you when this started. “You did well, my love.” Wanda says more tenderly now. “You made me so proud.” She tells you as she strokes your hair gently. “You’re a good girl, baby.” She praises, watching as you start to calm. “My good girl deserves a treat for being so obedient for me” She continues, instantly bringing a smile to your face. “Lay down for me, love.” Wanda guides you. “Let Mommy take care of you. I’m sure an orgasm or two will make up for that ruin.” She purrs, descending your body with a smile. After all, obedient girls get rewarded.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!reader #top!wanda #scarlet witch

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 days

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can you write about tying dazai up after he was being naughty and fingering yourself infront of him, telling him if he got off to it he would be punished <3

Sure, I can do that :>

Dom!AFAB!reader x Sub!dazai

Warning: bondage, voyeur (?), masturbation (reader), punishment

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Dazai growled on the chair, hands tied behind the lean with a sturdy rope. The same has been done to his ankles, they were bound to the legs of the furniture, with no way to escape. His brown eyes were glued to your body, the eager redness on his face reflecting the desperation in his voice.

Not a single glance was granted his way, you ignored him. Eyes clenched shut as you focused on nothing but your own pleasure, fingertips rubbing your clit just the way you loved. You were there, right in front of him, only inches away, yet you also felt to far. Due to the restrictions he couldn’t touch you, feel you or hold you, only able to watch while you pleasured yourself. The way your slick started to coat the sheets got him so on edge, he was ready to beg. How he wished it was him instead, who made your body tingle with excitement.

Soon you changed to sticking your fingers inside yourself, gently inserting one, then two of them. Feeling his gaze on you like a hungry beast. Until he learns to know his place, you won’t show him any merci though. Slowly you pressed your fingertips against the sweet spot deep within you, it was a place you’ve known pretty good. Pumping them in and out, feeling the pleasure rush through your body and stimulating your nerves. He drooled, he drooled like a dog in heat as he kept staring at your vulva. If only he could get a taste of you, he swore he’ll treat you well.

“I don’t need help from haaah.. some incompetent pervert.” You finally answered his question from before, leaving a snarky remark while slowly drowning in your own enjoyment. Having him watch and curse under his breath isn’t all that bad, the helpless and envious look on his face was truly pathetic after all. Just looking at him, at his handsome face which was filled with despair and want for you was enough to make you wet. Feeling the arousal fill your stomach, causing for another wave of bliss to wash over you.

Dazai pouted, still playing the role of the brat. Though the act was crumbling, little by little. It was simply too much for him to Handel. This hot show and display you laid out in front of him wasn’t for nothing after all. His dick throbbed in his pants, begging to be released. It created a tent in his pants and it soaked the top layers, until the fabric became significantly darker. The way you gasped and moaned made him so jealous, and of whom? Of your damn fingers. At the same time it was stimulating..? Clearly he got off to it, despite his initial frustrations.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your sharp gaze. While continuing to finger yourself as you pleased, you gave him another rule, one he had to follow no matter what. Saying those cruel words in a sweet voice, “getting off to this? You better don’t, or I’ll punish you~” followed by your snickering, which was viciously but also oh so attractive. He immediately protested, “hey! That’s no fair, how can one not be addicted to your appeal?” Sweat rolled down his forehead, a slight tremble in his voice. He was nervous. Your little boy toy dazai was nervous, and pathetically so, all because of a little threat.

“Then try your best not to finish too early.” You suggested, then bit your bottom lips, holding back an especially loud moan as your finger reached just the right spot. A hot look on your face, matching his. The brunette was so worked up already just by watching you, you haven’t even touched him yet. This was his breaking point, he couldn’t do this anymore, it was pure torture! Begging you in a sweet manner, mustering all his charm in the hopes to shake your resolve, “oh but pleeaasee~!! All I want is to serve you, my beloved, my masterrrr~!” A smile creeped onto your lips, enough to send a shiver down his spine. You grinned confidently as you said, “nice try, slut, beg some more and I might let you cum tonight.”

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rainba · 1 day

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I read that u write dark content sooo,,,,

What would be both boys reaction to MC trying to comit suicide?(Succesfully or unsuccessfully)

U dont need to answer if it makes you feel uncomfy!!!

Such interesting questions... ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Thank you for sending them!

Warning for extremely dark content up ahead!

CW: suicide, violence, typical yandere behaviors

If Kairos’ darling committed suicide and succeeded, his mind would absolutely spiral out of control. He wouldn’t be able to think straight anymore; he'd be so overwhelmed with grief that the mere act of breathing becomes an impossible task. There’s really only two ways this scenario could end.

The first scenario: he isn’t the one who discovers your body. Through some other source, he hears that you’ve committed suicide… He wouldn’t believe it at first. He would think that he’s being pranked– someone in this world is testing him. Kairos would go through hell and back just to confirm that you’re actually dead. And when the truth finally settles in…?

He would be destroyed with guilt.

He could’ve done something– he should have done something. Anything! It’s all his fault that you ended your own life– if he had just been watching you closer, you would’ve never done it. If he had loved you harder, you would've been happy in this world.

Kairos would collapse onto the floor as he clutches his head. The only thing he can think is: “it’s all my fault.”

Kairos can’t live in this world without you.

When the day of your funeral finally comes, he’ll attend it while dressed in his finest gothic clothes. Around his neck is a black locket in the shape of a heart, and your picture is safely resting within it. He’ll walk up to your casket and lovingly grab your hand, smiling warmly with tears in his eyes. And then he’d whisper…

“I’ll see you soon, my love.”

In front of everyone, he would pull out a pre-sharpened knife, then slice open his own throat.

Kairos' blood will splatter all over your corpse. Everyone who knows you can only helplessly watch as he bleeds out and clings to your cold body.

This way, everyone will always associate the two of you together, even after the both of you have died...!

Everyone will know just how much he loved you.

The second scenario: Kairos is the one who discovers your body.

Kairos would drop to his knees the moment he sees your corpse– his jaw hanging wide open as silent screams escape his lungs. He wouldn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t know what to think. He wouldn’t know what to say. It’s as if his mind becomes full of static, cracking and disconnecting from reality.

His pale hands would grip your arms as he shakes you, begging you to wake up– but you never do. His heart shatters.

Just like in the last scenario, all he can feel is guilt.

Kairos wouldn’t call the police. After all, if he calls the police, they’ll take you away–!! He needs to be by your side! What if you wake up? What if his mind is playing tricks on him? What if this is just another one of his fucked-up nightmares?

Kairos sobs and shakes as he wraps his arms and legs around you, refusing to let you go. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink, he really doesn’t move at all. All he can do is absent mindedly stroke your hair as your body enters rigor mortis, slowly decaying in his loving embrace.

It would take a few days for his mind to return somewhat back to normal. You haven’t moved– not even once… He finally accepts that this is reality. You truly are dead.

It’s over. Everything’s over. His life is over. You’re gone… There’s no point in living anymore.

And it would end the same way as the last: while holding your hands, he’ll slice open his throat, and he’ll bleed out right beside you. He makes sure to intertwine his fingers with yours, wanting his last moments on earth to be romantic.

As for Luka: he would be enraged. Hurt. Bitter.

How could you…? How could you commit suicide like this??

Did you do it just to hurt him? Did you hate him that much? Was life just that cruel to you, and you couldn’t take it anymore…?

Luka would have to take multiple weeks off of work; he can barely function. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to cook anything, and he’d lose tons of weight. Dark bags would form under his eyes. His tail would look disheveled and nearly matted. The only thing Luka does after your passing is lay in bed, staring at the empty space right beside him… The space that you were supposed to occupy.

He’d spend hours blankly staring at framed photographs of you. Rereading your old texts, listening to old voicemails, all while yearning so badly for your touch. Every time he passes out from exhaustion, all he sees is your perfect face.

When he dreams, the two of you are running around in a bright and sunny field– he’s always playfully chasing you, pouncing on you before showering you in loving kisses. In his dreams, you’re still alive, safe and sound. In his dreams, you're always smiling.

Luka despises waking up.

It's agonizing. He would often wish that he'd just die in his sleep.

But unlike Kairos, he wouldn’t go through with kill himself– he can’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he just constantly surrounds himself with things that remind him of you.

His phone's wallpaper is a picture of you. His ringtone is your favorite song. He wears jewelry that reminds him of you. He gets a tattoo of your name across his chest.

Everywhere Luka goes, he’s haunted by your ghost. He’d never be able to recover from losing you.

You were the first person to ever make him feel alive; now he’ll forever be an empty shell, doomed to never feel anything ever again.

#ask #kairos posting #luka posting #i LOVE angst!!#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere

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jamespotterismydaddy · 7 hours

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Cheater, Cheater

Not cheating in the romantic sense!!

luke castellan x reader

A/N: made for a request for brattamer Luke and I combined it with a spanking request from wattpad

WARNINGS: smut!!, brat taming, spanking, deepthroating, rough sex

WORD COUNT: 893 words

The way you taunt him makes him feral. When it comes to a game of capture the flag, you’re often on the opposing team of your boyfriend and you never fail to get his blood boiling.

“You can’t hold the goddamn flag behind your back. It has to be planted in the ground. You know that.” He growls, clearly frustrated.

“The flag seems to quite like being held by me. Almost like you do.” You say teasingly.

“Are you really gonna make me come take it from you?”

You giggle. “I’m much faster than you, Castellan. We both know that.”

“Put it in the ground and we’ll have a fair fight.” He stalks towards you slowly.

“Yeah, I don’t think I want to do that.” You say. Both of you know that Luke would beat you in a sword fight easily.

“Stop being such a brat and play by the rules.” He advances on you a bit more as you back up.

“Monsters don’t play by the rules. So I guess I’m giving you practice for real life!”

The more cheerful you are, the more pissed off your boyfriend gets as he draws his sword. Now is the time to run, and you were just about to when you hear the horn.

“Looks like we won!” You take one look at the murderous gaze in his eyes and run all the way back to camp.

~~~

Punishment was swift as it took less than 20 minutes after the game for Luke to have you on your knees in the supply shed.

“You wanna act up? Then you have to face the fucking consequences. Now suck.” He commands, gripping your hair harshly at the roots as he pushes your face towards his cock.

The petulant look drops off your face as you take him into your mouth, having to relax your jaw as he makes you deepthroat him instantly.

“That’s right. I know what you wanted. Someone likes a little rough treatment.” He coos as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth.

You try not to gag as you take him fully, barely even having to suck as he takes control and fucks your throat. You gaze up at your cruel boyfriend with tears in your eyes but you both know this is exactly what you wanted.

He pulls you off him and you gasp for air, not realizing how depleted your lungs were of oxygen. You flinch a little when he cums on your face, not expecting the degrading action. He then uses his thumb to scrape it up and push it into your mouth. You suck every bit of it off as he looks down on you.

“Get up and bend over the table.” He commands and you’re quick to obey.

Your pants and underwear are yanked down as quickly as you can fathom but you don’t expect the harsh smack against your ass.

“Luke!” You scold, coming out of your obedient state for just a moment.

“We need to find some way to prevent you from being such a little cheat in the future.” He says as he spanks you again. You try to get up but he pushes you right back down and gives you an even harsher swat. “Don’t. Try. To. Escape.” He growls.

“But it hurts.” You whine, bringing a hand back to rub your sore bum

He grabs your hand and the other one before pinning your wrists to your back. His hand flies down a few more times, spanking until your ass is crimson.

“All that and you’re fucking soaked.” Luke says, rubbing two fingers through your slit. And he’s right, you’re dripping as your poor cunny clenches around nothing.

“Mmm… fuck me, Luke.” You beg.

“Is that what gets you off, baby? Getting your ass spanked?” He asks condescendingly as he rubs his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick.

“No, it doesn’t.” You protest and he laughs.

“Liar.” He murmurs as he shoves himself inside you, balls deep. “I’ve never seen you so turned on before.”

He sets a rough pace, fucking into so harshly that the table shakes.

“Oh gods…” You whine as he pounds you harder than he ever has before.

“You’re a good girl for me now, aren’t you?” He says as he pulls your head up by the hair so he can bring you in for a searing kiss.

He has you trembling beneath him as you clutch the edge of the table. He thrusts into you with such vigour that you see stars the moment he gives attention to your clit.

“It’s okay, baby. I know you wanna cum. I’ll let you.” His approval is all you need before your walls are spasming around him, trying to pull him in deeper.

He groans, giving a few more deep thrusts before the walls of your cunt milk him for all he’s worth.

“Mmm.” You breathe out as you feel the sticky substance oozing out of you once he pulls out.

Luke helps you up and brings you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Was that too much?” He asks tenderly, rubbing circles on your back.

“No, it was good.” You murmur into his chest.

“Are you sure because your legs are shaking.” He teases and you smack his chest.

“You’re such a dick.”

Comment to be added to the taglist

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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purple-writer8 · 12 hours

Text

I Know Places - ACOTAR

Rhysand x Vanserra!Reader

“They are the hunters, we are the foxes. And we run.”

warnings: abused eris, autumn court shenanigans, mentioned abuse (verbal and physical), talks of violence, forbidden love, beron being beron, beron being abusive, physical abuse, angst, sexism, the autumn court brothers, angst, beron slander (as he deserves)

1.1k words

Part Two to But Daddy I Love Him

Masterlist :)

Your father had struck you across your face. He killed you. Killed you and killed your happiness. You thought he would understand, that he would let you marry Rhysand and you would be happy. What a fool you were to think Beron would ever allow you free will. “I’m sorry, darling,” your mother had been comforting you for hours now.

Your head rested on her lap as she weaved her fingers through your dirty blonde hair. “How can he be like this? Why doesn’t he want me to be happy?” You cried softly, your hands gripping your mother’s skirts with a white-knuckle grip.

“He… well, he loves you… he means well…” she trembled as she spoke, and you knew that she did not mean that. “How can you say that, mother? Means well? He struck me three times…” you sobbed unto her lap, your heart aching for one person— your lover.

“Darling, I know he is… unorthodox in his ways, but he cares about your future.” You sat up from your stance when she spoke those words, rage flaring inside your body at her claims. "Cares about my future?! How can you say that after what he did?" You spat angrily, your hands burning with your fire that was just begging to be let out.

"Rhysand is a bad man... his court... it's a nightmare. There are no morals there. He is a cruel, wicked man, just like his father," your mother contested. You could tell that she was distressed, just like you could tell how abused she was by your father, how she feared him even when he was not around.

"Do you think I am daft, mother?" You asked quietly.

"No, honey. You are just youn-" You cut her off.

"Do you think I don't know, mother? You think I haven't seen how beaten he leaves Eris after he makes a small mistake? You think I haven't seen how he eggs Fenix on to compete with Eris constantly? How he beats each of my brothers into oblivion? You think I don't know what happened to Jesminda and Lucien?" You were erratic, trying to get her to understand that you were no longer a child.

Your eyes drifted to her arms, covered by her long sleeved dress, "you think I don't know what he does to you?"

The Lady of Autumn stilled, her face falling as she stared at you solemnly. "I have tried to protect you... Eris has tried. Even Beron has tried. Our reality is not perfect, but your father loves you, and he wants to protect you."

"I don't need protection, mother. I am not a child anymore... I am a female grown... and I want Rhys, and he wants me." You stated in an unwavering manner.

"You must understand that Rhysand is not a good man, honey. The Night Court is the worst place to be, the fae there are deranged and depraved," your mother countered.

You knew there was darkness in the Night Court, but you also knew there was light. So much light. You saw it, Rhys had shown you. But you could never say that, you had promised to keep Velaris a secret, and you would. "There must be good there, mother. I know there must," you stated softly.

When she did not answer, you said, "he loves me and he would never hurt me. I deserve him, and he deserves me. I wish to be happy."

She blinked and wiped her hands on her skirts, shaking her head, "your father has made up his mind, it is time you come to terms with that. We are Vanserras, it is the hand we were dealt." With that, the Lady of Autumn left your chambers, sending you further into despair. So, just because you were a Vanserra you had to deal with abuse and unhappiness?

You would let your family say what they wanted, but you wouldn't hear it. Loose lips sunk ships all the time, but not this time. Left to your own devices, you decided you wouldn't put up with your father's abuse. You rushed to your vanity and rummaged through the cabinet that held all of your trinkets until you found it.

A mirror. A beautiful sapphire encrusted mirror given to you by Rhys a few months back. You reached for your red tube of lipstick and wrote on the glass, Come and get me. It was an enchanted mirror, made for the two of you to communicate through it, since he could not reach you in Autumn. You set the mirror down and waited, hoping that your lover hadn't shoved his own mirror in a drawer and forgotten about it.

You spent the day pacing back and forth in your chambers, hands trembling as you constantly checked the mirror for a reply back. Rhys, please, you pleaded in your mind.

"I love it when you beg," you let out a happy shriek when your lover appeared in the middle of your room, having winnowed in suddenly. You jumped into Rhys's arms, snaking your own over his neck and pulling him in. His arms slithered around your waist, holding you steady as you held on to him for dear life.

"Thank the Cauldron," you cried happy tears, ready for him to take you away from this cage. Rhys pulled away and inspected your figure, his violet eyes turning dark, his thumb grazing over the bruising on your cheek as he growled, "Beron."

A tear slipped down your cheek, a tear he collected with his thumb, "you won't ever suffer under your father again."

"I just want to go with you," you sniffed, leaning your head against his hand as he cupped your cheek. The door to your chambers opened swiftly, "sister, I've brought you suppe-"

Eris dropped the plate when he saw the High Lord of Night holding you close, his expression turning into steel. You yelped and clung to Rhys for dear life as your older brother sent fire bolts his way-- bolts that bounced off the shield Rhysand had put up around the two of you. "It doesn't have to be like this," Rhysand told your brother in a sing-song voice.

"Let her go! This is a breach! This means war, Rhysand." Eris growled and you could only shake your head. "I'm sorry," was what you said before Rhys winnowed the two of you away.

As you were winnowed into a manor-- in the Night Court, you assumed-- you fell to your knees, loud sobs leaving your body. Rhys was quick to kneel with you, taking your trembling hands in his. "This is what you want?" He asked in a soft tone.

You nodded, "for me it's always you. It's only you, but... I'll miss Eris."

"I know, lovely. But this is the only way."

"I know." You said, standing up with his help.

A feline smile spread on his face as he motioned to the starry and gorgeous view outside the balcony he had winnowed into, "Welcome to the Night Court."

Author’s note:

Part three of her meeting th IC and fluff? ALSO THANK YOU SM FOR THE COMMENTS ON PART ONEEEEE i am bursting with love

General Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @x-reader-x @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143

Series Taglist: @minaethrym @cherry-cin @acourtofimagines @slytherintaco @mp-littlebit @misskennygirl @umgatochamadopercyval @nayaniasworld @tenaciousperfectionunknown

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 2 days

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Hello dear, "will you pray for me" will have a second part? bc the first is magnificent 😋🫣

WILL YOU PRAY FOR ME? ( House of the Dragon x Reader ) Pt. 2

AUTHOR NOTE! Yes. I need to write more of Aegon so that I can make the perfect mix of TV SHOW and BOOK! Aegon for my fic, 'THE CONQUEROR REBORN'. [ Yes that is me shamelessly promoting it. Check out the link for it in my previous posts. ] <3 pairing: DARK! Aegon ii Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader prompt: Aegon returns back from the Battle of Rook's Rest, seeking comfort from his bride-to-be. Only then does chaos ensure. word count: 1, 298+ words

As soon as he had left the Sept. You prayed, and prayed, and prayed to whoever would listen to your sobs and prayers. It did not matter if it was the Gods of Old, New or the forgotten ones. A twisted part of you praying that Aegon did not survive the battle, that he would be dead. That you would be spared of being his second wife. You did not wish for it. To be married to him nonetheless, not when the glint in his eyes made it clear that it would not be a pleasant marriage.

When the aching of your knees grew too much from praying for hours on end, you returned to the Red Keep. Hoping that Alicent or even Otto would confirm it was Aegon playing a cruel jest on you. But, when Alicent burst into tears, begging you to forgive her for not protecting you hard enough. It was then that you realized Aegon was being serious. Dead serious.

You would be his bride, his little thing, the thing he would use to warm his bed, to do whatever he wished. Not unless you found a way out of it, one that would keep your reputation still in tack. So lying about being a maiden would not work. Then, it clicked, a betrothal.

Aegon would not be able to protest if you were already promised to another. The new task came in finding someone to marry you. Someone of decent standing, who would be willing to offer just enough protection from Aegon. That’s where Lord Redwyne came in. From a good House and standing, kind and loyal. A good ally to the Green’s. To lose him would be a costly thing. It was perfect. You were saved.

Holding the hand of Lord Redwyne, you give him a gentle smile, happy that he was willing to take the burden of protecting you from Aegon. No matter how many times you had said your thanks, it felt like it would not be enough. Not many men would dare to do something like this for a woman, many saw women as things, not people. So for him to do such a thing showed that he either cared, or it was a matter of pride and defending his honor.

Watching as the carriage slowly pulls into the courtyard, you shift in place, fear bubbling up within you. You did not know how Aegon would react. Would he yell? Would he get violent? Would he demand of you both to be thrown into the Black Cells? Feeling a gentle kiss be placed on your knuckles, you turn your head away, feeling at ease at the caring gaze of Lord Redwyne. Instantly feeling better, you look back, watching a now injured Aegon limp out of the carriage.

“Rook’s Rest is ours. Now, where is Y/n, I wish to see my bride.” Aegon states, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

“Aegon, let us speak⎯” Alicent tries to interfere.

“No, Mother. Where is she?” Aegon cuts in, his voice cold.

Not daring to speak up, you look him over carefully. His left side was wrapped in bandages, with tiny specs of burnt flesh peaking through. His armor was charred only on the left side, leaving you to guess that he had been attacked on the left side on dragonback. Feeling his predatory gaze shift onto you, you resist the urge to cower, using Lord Redwyne as a shield.

“What is this?” Aegon states an unnerving lack of emotion in his voice.

“I am betrothed to Lord Redwyne, your grace. I am unable to marry you as my hand is already taken, your grace.” You explain, hoping it would be enough to deter him.

“No.” He states, “No.”

No? Was he honestly just saying no like it would change anything?

“Ser Cristion, kill Lord Redwyne, dispose of his body how you see fit. Lady Y/n will be coming with me to my chambers.” Aegon states, almost as if he was speaking of weather and not murder.

Feeling the blood drain from your face at his casual orders, you turn to Ser Cristion, the Hand just as equally shell shocked. He was not serious, was he? He wouldn’t dare to kill Lord Redwyne, an ally of his, someone that he needed to win the war. This could not be happening. Looking between a stone-faced Aegon and Ser Crisiton, nobody moves or says a word.

It was just palpable tension in the air that brewed in the stillness. Glancing over to Lord Redwyne, he only stares Aegon down, the two clearly size each other up. Surprisingly, Lord Redwyne doesn’t back down, still standing toe-to-toe with Aegon. Which only made the darkness in Aegon’s eyes grow more and more.

“You can either break the betrothal with Lady Y/n and leave a living man, or I will kill you myself and still take her as my wife.” Aegon states, cutting the silence.

No. No. No. This could not be happening. This was supposed to be your escape. Your way of getting rid of him.

“I suggest you pick the latter..” Aegon adds, “Before I decide that mercy is below me.”

“Your grace, you cannot be⎯”

“No, no, I am. Now, like I said, leave before I decide that mercy is below me.” Aegon argues, a dead serious look on his face.

Looking at Lord Redwyne, you prayed that he would not back down, that he would stand up for you and refuse to let you become Aegon’s second wife. Feeling tears tickle up in your eyes, Lord Redwyne pulls your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. There was a glint, a glint of regret and sorry in his eyes and you just knew. He was going to leave you.

He mutters a quick, ‘I am sorry, my Lady.’, before swiftly leaving you with Aegon.

“No..” You whisper, your voice so soft that it nearly went unnoticed.

“Wise choice, Lord Redwyne.” Aegon smirks, the feeling of doom crashing down on you.

“No..” You whisper, a single tear falling down your cheek.

Holding back the tears that continued to bubble in your eyes, it took everything in you to not start sobbing as realty crashed down on you. No one, not even the most honorable men, would be willing to protect you from Aegon. You would be his bride. It would be happening whether you liked it or not.

Feeling a bandaged finger brush against your cheek, you are snapped back to reality, remembering who stands next to you. Turning your head to go over and look at him, there is a smug smirk tugging at his lips, the healing burn scar just above his left eyebrow only making him look more sinister.

“Come, my little bride. I need someone to tend to my wounds.” Aegon orders, dragging you by the wrist.

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

#house of dragons x reader #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #house of the dragon x reader #aegon ii #aegon x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon

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brittle-doughie · 20 hours

Note

Know I wanna know more about how the dragons would coddle y/n and their new egg

Ways of Cookie and Egg Care (The Dragons)

Their ferocity is more or less the same: their cookie and their egg is important and any length should be taken to make sure they’re properly watched over.

Some dragons may have different ideas on what to do with some of these methods of protection.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie will always want to fight the threat head on, not caring if it was mere cookies or a fellow dragon, Pitaya will never feel content until they’ve dealt with anything that could bring harm to Y/N Cookie and the egg. If you were taking a stroll in the valley, Pitaya will be right next to you, anything even approaching the two of you will have them ready for a fight! Look out, because Pitaya isn’t leaving anyone alone until they’re far enough away to their liking..or the perpetrator is beaten badly.

Ananas Dragon Cookie considered the island precious to them, that goes especially with you and the egg. Any news that involves either or both of you will have their fullest attention, a call that Ananas will always answer. Cruel and merciless to those who dare face the dragon and their precious treasures will have no mercy.

Lotus Dragon Cookie takes a more gentle and nurturing approach to the egg and Y/N Cookie. They’ll make sure you’re both kept in their most luxurious room in the palace, they’ll play a tune on their instruments in order to soothe. They can’t help it if they give you a peck on the forehead, you’re just too lovely holding their egg in your arms. But don’t take their gentleness as compliancy, Lotus can and will kill any threats as swiftly as the others if they so much as LOOK AT YOU the wrong way.

Lychee Dragon Cookie is more laidback in their plans, with having you alongside them in the cave with monsters and brainwashed cookies acting as guards for you and the egg. They’re much more playful, wanting to hold the egg themselves and fly around with it. Their unserious attitude makes you ponder if they care about you as much you did for them, but rest assured, you and the egg matter so much to Lychee. It’s kind of why they’re hesitating on letting you leave the cave, they’re lowkey worried you’ll get hurt.

Longan Dragon Cookie is likely to be just as unstressed about you and your egg, mostly because they know they can destroy just about anything that they perceive as a danger to the both of you. Kept in their palace similarly to Lotus, they’ll make sure you have everything you need so that you don’t need to leave on your own. It’s cute in your eyes trying to teach Longan in how to care for you guys’ egg, seeing them being a parent and coddling their egg was worthy for some pictures, much to Longan’s (hidden embarrassment) annoyance.

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #crob x you #crob x reader #pitaya dragon cookie x reader #longan dragon cookie x reader #lychee dragon cookie x reader #lotus dragon cookie x reader #ananas dragon cookie x reader

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dudeitiskarev · 2 days

Text

Maybe Someday | Ch. 4

A Spencer Reid mini-series

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Chapter summary: Spencer swore he wasn’t going to track you down again, but you still end up right in front of him.

Word count: 6k

Tags/warnings: reader and Spencer get mugged; panic attacks; probably inaccurate case talk.

Author’s note: I decided to merge two chapters id planned together so the whole thing reads better so I hope you don’t mind a longer chapter!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

The scent of freshly ground coffee put an instant smile on Spencer’s face; it grew wider when he met a familiar pair of gorgeous eyes behind the counter at one of his favorite coffee shops in town.

“Spencer,” you greeted bright-eyed.

You seemed so different. So at peace. So… beautiful.

“Hey,” he responded. “It’s so good to see you. Wha-What are you doing here?”

The last time he saw you was at the clinic—almost a year ago—so it wasn’t a rude question to ask.

“I work here.” You smoothed down your apron with pride.

“I haven’t seen you here before?” He gave you a lopsided smile through a small laugh.

“That’s because I got hired today.”

“Oh.” He eagerly nodded. “You moved from Vegas?”

“Yeah, last week. I–” You were cut off by a serious voice calling your name from the back office— your manager, most likely. “Sorry, I probably should take your order first.” You shook your head.

He asked for the usual: black coffee with a chocolate sprinkled donut and gave it a small bite right away

“Every time I swear this is my last one but they’re just so tasty,” he said after barely swallowing.

Your fingertips brushed his ever so slightly as you handed him his coffee. A casual touch he didn’t know he’d been craving since you two said goodbye at the clinic. His heart grew warm and lost its nature, increasing the number of beats per minute considerably.

There hasn’t been a day you didn’t cross his mind after you two said goodbye, and he tried multiple times to find you again asking Garcia for help, but it seemed as if you’d vanished into thin air. He wanted to try harder, go to Vegas again and track you down but Morgan’s wise words talked him out of it: you can either find her and suffocate her, or let her go and let her find you—because Morgan was sure you’d do that eventually.

Suffocation was cruel, and now there you were. You’d shown up right in front of him again like a divine being.

“So, I’ll see you around?” You bit the inside of your bottom lip.

“Y-yeah.” Spencer’s brows knitted together while he smiled at you, nodding. “I come here almost every week, so definitely.”

“Great.” You huffed out a nervous laugh.

Spencer looked over his shoulder. There was a line of four people behind him already, so he stepped aside and waved goodbye, leaving the place with a weird feeling—a good one.

He lingered outside the café for a moment—away from your sight—hoping you’d come out and find him.

Don’t suffocate her, he thought as his feet moved again. He continued his walk to the FBI headquarters and just a few steps in, you yelled his name.

He turned around. You were jogging towards him.

“Did something happen?” he asked. “Did I forget something?”

“No,” you panted, stopping three feet away. “I just needed you to know… you saved my life by showing up that night.”

“Oh.” The corner of his mouth tugged and his eyes darted from your fidgeting hands up to your eyes. He didn’t know what else to say. He just stood there, staring at you in case this was the last time he saw you again.

If you slipped away again.

“And I’m very grateful,” you managed to add. “You are a good person, Spencer.”

“Of course, I… It was the right thing to do.”

“But you didn’t have to and… you did. And that… truly saved my life.” You brought one hand to your chest and stared at him for a moment. It was easy to tell your mind was racing. He knew the feeling. He wanted to hold you, but he didn’t act on it. Suffocate her or let her go. “So, yeah, I- I should get back now if I don’t want to get fired on my first day.” You laughed.

Spencer gulped and took a sharp breath, snapping himself out of his mind. “Yeah, go, go.”

“You have the same number right?” you asked as you took steps backwards.

“I— I do, yeah.”

Of course, he did. He’d been waiting for your phone call for ten months and twenty seven days. (His phone got crushed by a car during a pursuit not long ago and he saved the SIM card like it was gold).

“‘Kay. I’ll call you. Or text you. So we can catch up, or hang out. I really need friends here so-”

“Same number.” He gave you a thumbs-up.

You waved him goodbye and gave him a sweet, timid smile before running inside the café.

Minutes later, his phone buzzed.

Unknown number: Hey :) I hope you enjoy your donut.

You didn’t call or text that day and your silence made him uneasy.

The BAU got a case that very same morning, and he checked his phone every chance he got waiting for any sign from you.

“Waiting for a call, pretty boy?” Derek approached him with a teasing grin.

“Y-yeah, Garcia should’ve sent us a lead by now,” Spencer played it cool, writing some more information about the most recent victim on the whiteboard.

“That’s not what you’re waiting for.” Morgan raised one brow. “Come on, you can tell me. Something’s been up since yesterday.”

Spencer put down the marker. He wanted to hear Morgan’s wise words, so he said your name, and it melted right into a smile.

Derek repeated your name as if you were a close friend. “I remember her,” he added.

“I thought I’d lost her again after I left Vegas.”

“I know, you were pretty bummed for a while.”

Spencer licked his lips. “But yesterday I ran into her.”

Morgan smiled with a Told-you-so look.

“There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about her. And when I saw her I felt… something I haven’t felt before.”

“You like her.”

“I mean yeah, of course I do. But it’s more than that. I don’t even know how to put it into words.”

“Sounds like love to me.” Morgan shrugged.

Spencer turned his lips downward. “I don’t think so. I barely even know her.”

“So? Love doesn’t make sense most times.”

“It’s not like that,” Spencer insisted. It wasn’t something ordinary or as simple as cutting it all down to love (not that he thought love was simple). Plus, he wasn’t even sure there was that kind of attraction. “What would Derek Morgan do?” Spencer asked with a bit of humor.

“Now that’s a good question.” Morgan leaned on the table and raised his brows. “I’d call her. Check on her. Let her know I’m thinking about her. After she picks up and tells you every detail about her day, you text her how much you liked talking to her. She’ll do the rest.”

“I’m not trying to… hit on her, Morgan. I want to let her know she’s not alone. That she has someone. Like you said, I don’t want to… suffocate her. I don’t want her to disappear again.”

“You won’t. She already found her way back to you.”

An entire day went by and he couldn’t find the appropriate time to reach out to you, knowing well he could be interrupted any minute.

So he waited until the case was over and the jet touched ground in Quantico—three days later.

He dialed your number as soon as he walked through the airport doors and you picked up after the third ring.

“Spencer.”

Your voice sparked some butterflies. The nice kind of butterflies.

“H-hi, how are you?” He smiled.

“I’ve been good. Sorry, again. I didn’t call or text as I said I would.” He could hear you wincing at yourself. He didn’t mind. He was glad you simply answered. “Are you in town?”

“I am.”

“Are you busy? I’m off work in twenty minutes, maybe we can—”

“Yeah! Yeah, I can pick you up, if that’s okay,” he answered way too fast, but he was eager to see you and he didn’t bother to hide it.

“It’s perfect.” A smile through those words was clear. “I’ll be waiting.”

He wasted no time and took a cab right outside, giving the driver the address of his favorite café. It had just stopped raining and the evening was painted in a wintery shade of orange. The Christmas lights were everywhere now, and the closer he got to you, the prettier everything seemed to be.

The ride ended rather quickly and the driver was already outside the café.

You were waiting inside.

He couldn’t help but think about what Derek said as you two made your way to each other—about whatever he felt for you as love. It could be a type of love, but not necessarily the romantic kind.

“What’s with the bag?” was the first thing you said as you two stopped in front of each other.

“Oh, I just came back from a case.” He looked at his bag. He’d forgotten he had it.

“Why didn’t you go home first?” You sort of laughed, taking another step closer. “We could’ve met a bit later.”

“I really wanted to see you,” he merely said.

“Oh.” You pressed your lips together. “Well, this is for you.” You handed him a paper bag with the café logo on the outside.

“Oh, you’re so nice.”

“It’s just a chocolate sprinkled donut. I assume those are your favorites.”

“They are. I really like glazed donuts, too.”

“I’ll get you one of those next time”

Next time.

“So, how are you adapting to Quantico?” he asked as you started wandering.

“Honestly, it’s going great. The fact that I found a job so soon is awesome. I, uh, I’m just renting a room for now, though. I live with this seventy-year-old lady—Inez—and her puppy. They are way too nice to me. It’s like I’ve known her for so long.”

You seemed nervous, pulling down the sleeves of your denim jacket and he didn’t want to invade you with all the questions he’d had for the past ten months.

So he asked the one that he wanted to know the most, “May I ask why Quantico?”

“I, uh, it’s gonna sound like a confession.” You glanced up at him for half a second. “But I’d never felt so safe and so taken care of until you found me. After the clinic, I looked you up. Your card said you worked for the Behavioral Analysis Unit?” you searched his eyes again for approval to which he nodded. “And I guess I needed to go somewhere I felt safe. Even if I didn’t see you again, I knew you’d be around.”

His heart dropped. So you did come to find him. “Why didn’t you just call?” He had to ask.

You exhaled a sharp breath. “Because I’m stubborn, or so I’ve been told. But I really wanted to see you again so I decided to move somewhere close to you and hope for this.” You gestured between you and him. “Bump into each other.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause before you said, laughing, “I now realize I must sound like a creep.”

You leaned on him while you laughed, almost hiding your face on his arm. A simple but intimate gesture. He couldn’t help but stiffen and sigh deeply all at once.

“It’s not creepy at all.”

If anything, he was flattered.

The walk turned silent for a few steps until he decided to stop for some hot chocolate. It was getting colder with every minute and he noticed your clothes weren’t made for this kind of weather.

“I have a spare sweater you can wear under your jacket,” he commented, handing you the hot drink.

“Your sweater and this hot chocolate would make it the perfect night.”

You accepted his kindness and held his cup as he searched inside his bag. He handed you the one he liked the most, and it suited you even better that it did on him.

“Thank you. Is it cashmere?” You asked, caressing the fabric with delicate strokes.

“Yeah, I have a scarf too if you get colder.”

A park was a block away and soon, you were sitting at a bench in front of an ice skating rink—the one Garcia had invited him to last weekend but he declined because he didn’t want to look like a newborn deer learning how to walk. He would do it now if you asked him, though.

“I wish I’d stayed with you longer,” Spencer commented, giving half of his donut a small bite. He’d given you the other half.

“When?” You looked up at him.

“At the clinic.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.” You shook your head. “I would’ve disappeared somehow. But I’m starting over now. I’m leaving that ungrateful bitch in the past.”

There were a few families and couples at the rink, some of them struggling to stay standing and others that acted like professionals. Spencer thought it was a nice calming sight for you. Your eyes were shining with the Christmas lights.

“Is Quantico in the picture of your fresh start, then?” Spencer asked.

“For a while, yeah.” You held your hot chocolate with both hands and casually scooted closer to him, searching for some warmth. “I like my job so far. I’ve never been smart enough to study anything but college is not totally out of the question, I guess.”

“If I remember correctly you won a short story contest at school.” He raised his brows. The memory came to him as he said it. “You could try some creative writing.”

It was a vague memory, but he was sure about it. It was a story about an ant named Lori who wanted to be an astronaut.

“I– oh wow.” You looked at him with a funny frown. “You just unlocked a memory. How the hell do you remember that?” You laughed, a blissful sound between amusement and confusion.

“I have an eidetic memory,” he said, as he usually did.

“I’m not sure I know what eidetic means.” You laughed embarrassed, hiding your face against his arm again. And he sighed deeply, again. “Like photographic memory?”

“Sort of, yeah. I just have a really good memory.” He chuckled along.

“Is that a blessing or a curse?” You looked up at him.

“It can be both,” he admitted.

The moon hung low and thin over the snow-covered hills and the first few people at the ice rink were leaving. The temperature dropped a few more degrees, which meant it was time to go, too.

“Is it okay if I walk you home?” He asked as you both stood up.

“I’d love that.” Your face lit up. “I take the subway on the next block.” You gestured to a dark alley.

Normally, Spencer would’ve avoided it, but you seemed confident to keep walking so he followed your lead.

And he wished he’d suggested taking another path.

A third person’s footsteps joined you from behind and before he could turn around to glance at them, they were yanking your purse.

“Spencer!” You yelled.

“Hey! Don’t touch her!” Spencer’s voice got higher in the attempt to fight the guy.

A failed armlock got him punched in the brow, but at least he managed to get your purse back.

“Son of a—!” Spencer yelled.

The guy spat a low fuck you, little bitch and ran without trying anything else.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You hurried to check on Spencer.

“I’m fine.” He touched his brow and winced. It was getting swollen already. “Did you see him?! That was a child!”

Your response wasn’t what he expected. You laughed. Small at first but it soon turned into laughter.

All he could do was laugh along.

“I’m sorry I promise I’m not mocking you. I’m just a nervous laugher,” you said between more laughs. “And that made me really nervous.”

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He knew it wasn’t a positive kind of laugh, but seeing you laugh like this made the situation not so bad. And like you said, you weren’t mocking him.

“My house is only three stations away.” You ceased to laugh a bit. “Let me clean that.”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he underplayed it. It could’ve ended up so poorly if the kid had had a gun or knife.

“C’mon.” You hooked your arm around his elbow and kept on walking.

You made it to the station at a fast pace and you held onto him the entire time. It didn’t bother him. At all.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You let go of his arm and stood in front of him while you waited for the train. “That came out of nowhere.”

You lifted your hand and gently touched his swollen brow with your fingertips.

“It hurts, but sadly I’ve received worse, so it’s not that bad.”

The roaring of the train coming made you both stand behind the yellow line, and your arm seemed to have found its place in Spencer’s already as you looped them together again.

You both squeezed yourself inside the train car that stopped right in front of you and held onto the same pole, face to face.

“I feel a lot of stares,” Spencer muttered, subtly looking around.

“Well, yeah, you have a black eye now,” You said. You riffled through your purse and got out a mp4 with wired earplugs. “Here.” You handed him one and pressed play.

He recognized the first melodies. A song he’d heard before on the radio most likely. You tapped the first beats on the pole with your fingers, smiling up at him.

Then, the lyrics started and everything it said turned into a memory.

My name is Luka

I live on the second floor

I live upstairs from you

Yes I think you’ve seen me before

(A loud thud came from the floor above Spencer’s room. The neighbors again. They always yelled and interrupted his reading.

He paid special attention and the girl he didn’t know—but still cared about—screamed as if she were in pain.

Spencer put his book down and dragged his little steps to the kitchen where his mom was drinking her afternoon coffee.

“Mom?”

She turned her head to him. “What is it, Spencer?”

“I think the girl is in trouble again.”

Diana clicked her tongue with concern and looked up at the ceiling. The noise wasn’t too loud in the kitchen. “There’s not much we can do. Remember the last time we called the police?” Spencer nodded. It had worsened everything. “Come here.” She signaled for him to sit on her lap. “Help me with this crossword.”)

The doors of the train opened, bringing a new wave of people inside that snapped Spencer back to the present. You scooted closer to him to avoid people pushing you and nestled on his side. He glanced at you and the soft features of the little girl who lived upstairs were still there.

“When we were neighbors,” he began. “You didn’t live five houses away. We lived in the same building.”

You looked up at him and your pupils dilated as if you were having the same memories.

“Oh, yeah,” you managed to say. “For a while, I think? Then we moved again to another house.” Which must’ve been the one five houses away. “I remember your mom. You used to hide behind her legs all the time.” You then smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You didn’t have anyone to hide behind.

You looked away and kept tapping your fingers on the pole as the music kept going during the three stations left.

“We’re here.” You put your MP4 away before stepping out of the subway and looped your arm with his as you’d already gotten used to. “I live just around the corner.”

It was a modest home with a nice little dog by the door welcoming you.

“Hi, Murph!” you greeted him as he jumped all over you. “I missed you so much!” You picked Murph up and let him lick your face.

About 600 bacteria got transferred to your face right then, but it wasn’t much different from a human kiss. No disease if Murph had all of its vaccines up to date. Spencer could assume the dog had them all since its owner cared about him enough to put a little bow tie on his neck.

“Hey, angel.” A tiny old lady with short burgundy hair approached them. “Oh, who’s this handsome boy and what happened to him?” Her face drooped with concern.

“Inez, this is my friend Spencer. He got punched trying to defend me.” You pressed your lips together.

“Oh, no. It’s not even that late.” Inez glanced at the wall clock. “Let me bring you some peroxide and we’ll get you all cleaned up.”

“You’re so nice, thanks.” Spencer smiled sideways.

You took a sudden violent breath and brought your hand up to your chest. “I’m gonna go with Inez, uh—” You cleared your voice and swallowed thickly. “So you can clean… that.”

You didn’t move, though. You stood there, hand on your chest as you took another sharp deep breath this time with your eyes closed.

“You okay?” Spencer frowned.

“Y-yeah, I’m just—God, please not now.” You muttered, opening your eyes and looked up, talking to the god you’d mentioned.

Murph suddenly started whining and jumping and asking for pets from you.

“Hey.” Spencer took you by your arm gently and guided you to sit on the couch. Your legs shook as you sat down. “What do you feel?” He crouched in front of you.

“Like my heart is about to burst.” You reached for his hand. It was sweating cold. “Like I’m gonna die.”

You were having a panic attack.

He was quick to think and looked around and searched for anything that could help. “Do you have a lemon?”

“What’s happening!” Inez rushed back to the living room with every supply possible to clean up Spencer’s brow.

“Inez, do you have any lemon?”

“In the kitchen.” She gestured with her thumb. “Why?”

“Can you stay with her while I go to get one?”

“I’ll get it!” She rushed her short steps to the kitchen and was back with at least five.

Spencer grabbed your hand and made you wrap your palm around a lemon. “Bite it.”

“What?” Your voice barely came out. There were pools in your eyes already.

“Trust me. It’ll help, I promise. Just give it a big bite. Peel and everything.”

You doubted for a second but did it anyway. A big bite that made Spencer’s mouth water.

“That’s it, keep going. Chew it. Taste it until you start feeling better. It’ll shock your senses and pull them out of the panic.”

You struggled to chew and swallow the first bite but did it anyway and went for another bite right away.

“That’s it. Eat the whole thing if you need to,” Spencer kept talking, stroking your knee with his thumb.

You ate the second bite and opened your eyes. They were watery and your lips were flushed but there was a smile taking over them.

You let out a shaky breath. “It’s working.”

“It’s a grounding technique.” He smiled too. It never failed. “The bitterness distracts your brain from having the panic attack and focuses on the sensations happening in your mouth.”

“I’m gonna keep that basket stocked with lemons for you darling,” Inez said. “That worked like magic.”

“Or sour candies,” he added. “Anything sour will work.”

Inez walked to you and stroked your hair. “You just brought an angel to our home, sweetheart.”

You chuckled between another bite. “Yeah.”

“I’m gonna make her some tea.” Inez kissed the top of your head. “We usually let it pass on its own,” she told Spencer. “Poor thing, they happen at least once a month.”

“It’s been more often lately,” you added. “I used to have them when I was a teenager after my brother died. Then they went away with time but they came back a few months ago.”

There were many reasons he could tell you why they happened, but he figured you only needed his company this time.

“Why don’t you lie down?” He suggested as he sat at one end of the couch hoping you’d put your feet over his lap. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I think.” You nodded. “But… it’s still there. The feeling.” You put your palm over your chest. “The ghost of it. I feel like it might come back any minute.”

“I know.” He stroked your leg. He did know first hand what it felt like. “There are many techniques that can help you control it, even help you to never have them again.”

You looked at him weary-eyed. “Would you stay with me? In case it happens again?”

“Stay the night?” He gulped.

You nodded.

“Y-Yeah.” He shifted in his seat. “Is Inez okay with it?”

“She loves having people over.” You smiled tiredly.

“I should go ask her anyway.” He stood from the couch and gently put your feet down. He followed Inez’s voice to the kitchen and found her having a full conversation with Murph. “Is he a goldendoodle?” He asked.

“He is. The most handsome goldendoodle there is. Aren’t you, sweet boy?” She gave Murph a treat. “You’re staying, right?” She then asked Spencer. “It’s already so late and after what happened.” She crossed herself looking up at the ceiling.

He nodded as he responded, “If that’s okay with you?”

“Of course. There are new toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet. A bunch of colors, pick your favorite. There’s a spare room, too but it’s not ready for rent yet. Have to paint the walls and change the lightbulb. My husband—may he rest in peace—used to do all of that. You can sleep with her in her room, there’s no trouble as long as she agrees.”

Inez had kind eyes but her smile wouldn’t touch them. A lot like you a year ago. She’d lost her husband—who knows how long ago—but it still was reflected in her.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” he responded.

“Let’s see what she says.”

He thanked Inez and went back to check on you. You were curled up on the couch.

“Hey,” he softly said as he crouched next to you.

“Mmm?” You lifted your chin to look at him and blinked your eyes open.

“This will be my bed for the night. You go to bed. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You sat upright with slow movements. “I feel like it's still in me.” Your breath subtly shook as you inhaled deeply. “Would you… sleep next to me?”

He cleared his throat and avoided your eyes for a second. “Y-yeah, that way I can teach you some of the exercises.” His voice came out thin.

“Right,” you chuckled.

You made your way to your bedroom; Spencer right behind you like a puppy. It was small but enough to fit everything you needed: a twin-sized bed, a nightstand with a book he’d most likely already read, a dresser with a mirror over it, and a large window.

“I sleep with the window slightly open but we can close it.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” He shook his head. “I don’t mind.” As long as you were comfortable, he didn’t mind anything at all.

You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and came back with your pajamas.

“I don’t bite, Spencer.” You crawled to the wall side of the bed. He was still sitting at the edge.

“Sorry.” He waited for you to be all cozy to lay on top of the covers, grabbing the blanket by the feet and laying it over him up to his chest.

“Don’t you have pajamas in your bag?” You asked.

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, then realized. He didn’t have his bag.

“He… stole my bag.” He looked at you confused.

“Oh, shit.” You laughed, covering your mouth. “You were so worried about mine. I’m so sorry.”

“Or maybe I dropped it,” he added. Good thing the most valuable things were in his pockets. He only lost a pair of pants, dirty socks, and a button up he could buy again. “I don’t know.”

You laughed again, but it wasn’t your nervous laugh. It was a soft, casual laugh. He turned his head to look at you. Most beautiful weary eyes.

“You can wear something of mine. I have sweatpants and a shirt that may fit you.”

Spencer shook his head. “I’m okay. Close your eyes now,” he muttered. “You can sleep. I’ll stay here.”

You made yourself comfortable and lay on your side, resting your head next to his shoulder. “I don’t have that feeling anymore, with you here next to me.”

He didn’t say anything but he smiled at you. You had a nice face to stare at, and he could fall asleep counting each of your lashes.

“You mentioned something about some letters from my brother, when you found me.” You looked up at him. “Where were they? I always thought he didn’t leave anything.”

Your question caught him off guard.

“They were in Gary’s case files. They… they found them with his remains. Inside his wallet.”

He still wondered what your relationship with Gary was like because you didn’t wonder about why he had something of your brother’s.

“Am I ever gonna get to read them?” you asked, voice just above a whisper.

He wished he had an answer for it. He had completely forgotten about them. They probably were still under investigation or they were forgotten under a pile of documents since they didn’t contribute to the case much.

“Some cases take a lot of time,” he explained.

“So even if he’s dead, Gary it’s still under investigation?”

“It’s complicated.” Spencer shook his head.

“It’s been a long time.” You looked up at him.

“I… I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

You nodded, closing your eyes again. He felt the need to kiss the top of your head and stroke your hair. But he didn’t.

Instead, he fell asleep, too.

The temperature dropped during the night and naturally, you both searched for warmth on each other.

When the next morning came, Spencer woke up by an odd feeling— someone in his arms. He found himself pulling you closer, still over the bed covers. Your face was buried in his neck and one of your arms was over his waist.

His heart started racing and he hoped the loud thuds of the pulse of his neck wouldn’t wake you. He carefully tried to peel himself off you but you hummed. A gentle sound between discomfort and sleepiness.

He froze until your breathing steadied again, then he tried moving once more. Gently, he lifted your arm that was hugging him and slid on his side to the edge of the bed. He almost knocked everything off your nightstand with his elbow, and you hummed in annoyance again, frowning in the sweetest way.

You were a cute sleeper.

He gained back his balance and stood there, staring at you and wondering what was the reason behind a sudden smile.

It was contagious, and he smiled too. He would’ve stayed there, but Hotch had already sent him a text that he needed to be at the BAU ASAP.

Spencer took one last glance at you to make sure he didn’t wake you, and silently made his way out of your room to the living room.

There was Inez having breakfast with Murph sitting by her feet.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” She greeted. “Would you like some coffee?”

He was running so late but how could he deny the coffee of a sweet grandma?

“I’d love to.” He accepted and sat next to her.

She had set the table for three and poured Spencer some coffee in a clear mug.

“Thank you for staying.” She placed everything that was on the table in front of him—some toast, homemade jam, butter. “I still don’t know how to help her through those panic attacks but now we will be stocked with lemons for her. Poor thing.”

“Of course.” Spencer grabbed a knife and the butter. “She’s my friend. I care about her a lot.”

“You two knew each other already?” She tilted her head.

“Yeah, sort of.” He merely said, giving his toast a small bite. “When we were kids. We were neighbors. We barely remember each other, but thanks to my job I tracked her down.”

“Ah, how nice it must've been to be reunited.” Her eyes almost disappeared with her smile. “Now I see why out of every state in America, she chose Quantico.”

Spencer frowned.

“Are you two talking behind my back?” Your voice came out of nowhere.

He shifted in his chair to look at you. You were leaning on the wall with your arms folded over your chest. You lit up the place just like that; so cozy. He could tell you didn’t want to get out of bed yet.

“I have your waffles ready, darling,” Inez said while standing.

“Oh, don’t worry.” You gestured for her to sit back. “I’ll get them. ”

Something clicked inside his chest right then; seeing you just being… you, at home, excited for waffles.

And with a deep sigh, he sealed it in.

“Sorry I’m late.” Spencer stormed into the conference room.

“Oh, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, huh?” Derek teased him right away, but Hotch didn’t give him the chance to keep teasing.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Hotch said, giving Spencer a we'll-talk-about-this-later stare.

It wasn’t a new case, luckily. Hotch had to debrief about the new protocols and codes that had to be applied in the field as well as inside the building.

While everyone took notes, Spencer doodled on his notebook.

“She’s pretty.” Penelope—on his right—whispered, gesturing at his notebook with her eyes.

He’d drawn you. A wonky version of you.

“Who is she?” She then asked. “I think I’ve seen her before.”

“Yeah, she’s my friend from Vegas.”

“Oh, neighbor girl.” She smiled sideways as if something made everything make sense: the same clothes as yesterday, the black eye, being late.

“Guys.” Hotch got their attention. “Twenty more minutes. Then we have a break.”

Sorry, both of them whispered.

Spencer brought his attention back to Hotch, but not entirely. His mind kept wandering and reliving the night before. He remembered when you asked him about your brother’s letters. Out of everyone, JJ was the one with the answers and he asked her about them as soon as Hotch gave the first break.

“I haven’t heard anything back,” she said. Her eyes darted between his evident bruised brow and his eyes.

He was surprised no one had asked about it yet.

“Can we do something about it?” Spencer’s lips settled into a bleak line.

“We can try. But you know how hard it is when it comes to things left by the victims.”

Spencer nodded. He wished he could go over everyone and hurry the process, for your serenity. Whatever triggered your panic attack last night, he was sure the uncertainty of your brother had something to do with it.

“Did you join a fight club or somethin’?” Derek came from behind and nudged Spencer’s arm, offering him a cup of coffee.

“Oh.” Spencer’s hand instinctively went to his brow. It still hurt. “I got mugged last night.”

“Damn.” Derek’s tone changed to a serious one immediately.

Spencer mentioned how he tried to defend you and lost his bag in the process—hence the same clothes as yesterday. “She had a panic attack,” he continued. “And asked me to stay with her. So I stayed with her. All night waiting for her body to stop trembling.”

“Was she alright when you left?” Derek sat back down on his seat.

“She was fine.” Spencer mirrored him. “I taught her some grounding techniques and woke up much better.”

“Then what is it? Something else is bugging you.”

Spencer gulped. The click his heart made when he was about to was bugging him.

“Remember what you said the other day about it being love?” he said.

Derek raised his brows at the realization.

“You may be right.”

I hope you enjoyed this one!!!!!

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