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hollandorks · 1 year

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matt murdock x original female character

chapter eighteen

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: phew, made it through being sick and the holidays and now I have time to post again! This chapter is...a lot. Literally. It’s over 10k words. I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not! There wasn’t a good place to break it up, and I don’t think anyone would want a cliffhanger where I’d debated ending the chapter, so here you go! A nice, huge chapter!

***This chapter is NSFW. 18+! ***

Series Masterlist

word count: 10,409

She’d been stupid, naive, prone to giving in to his apologies.

She wasn’t that girl anymore.

She took a deep, steadying breath, and finally started working on the paperwork piling up on her desk.

Matt’s POV

The day was over before Matt knew it. He’d been buoyed all day long, his three favorite people in the world surrounding him with laughter and light for the entire day. He hadn’t laughed so hard or so much in…well, a long time.

They managed to all leave at the same time for once, Foggy wordlessly clapping him on the back as they left. Matt knew what his best friend meant with the motion–he was happy for Matt, for Grace.

Karen’s phone chimed as she locked the office door behind them. “Ellison has something.”

“Send it to me,” Matt said immediately.

“Yes sir,” Karen said sarcastically, but her fingers tapped the phone screen anyways.

Matt inserted an earbud to listen to the text Karen had copied and sent to him, frowning as he walked. He was aware of Grace standing next to him, her warmth a steady comfort as she talked to the others.

At the intersection where they usually parted ways, Foggy hesitated for a second after saying goodbye. “Feel free to um…come in late tomorrow,” before he hastily walked away.

Matt could feel Grace’s heart beating more quickly. Her skin temperature rose as she blushed. He loved when she blushed and he unconsciously leaned into the extra warmth.

“Well, if Foggy’s alright with it,” she joked as they crossed the street.

Matt didn’t respond. He was lost in thought. He was already planning on going out as soon as he got back to the apartment. He needed to move quickly if what Ellison had discovered was true.

“Hey, want to stop to eat first?” Grace asked.

“You can pick up something. I’ll meet you at home. I have something to do real quick.” He needed to get home and get to the warehouse now owned by the same security company the men supposedly worked for.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

He turned to face her, expression softening into a smile. “Yeah, just thinking about this case. I’ll see you at home.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily. He hadn’t meant to lie, it simply…happened. He didn’t want her to worry, and he knew he could be there and back before she even went to bed for the night.

Matt went inside the apartment with guilt weighing him down. He would tell Grace the truth when he got back, he decided. It was too late now. He wanted things to work with her, though, so he needed to be open. She’d already blown him away with her easy acceptance of his secret. Why would this be any different?

The guilt worsened as he changed out of his work clothes.

He shouldn’t have lied. He cursed at himself as he pulled on his armor. He really shouldn’t have lied. He’d worked for the past several years to reach a place of trust and honesty with Foggy and Karen, and he’d sabotaged that work with Grace the first chance he’d gotten.

He paused as he started pulling on his boots and mentally berated himself.

He missed the sound of the door unlocking and opening behind him and froze as someone entered the apartment.

Grace’s scent and familiar heartbeat reached him a split second later and he relaxed a bit.

“Oh,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. “I…got you food.”

Matt tilted his head, several expressions flickering across his face before he settled on a carefully neutral one. “Thanks. I…have something to take care of.” The guilt worsened, heavy like lead in his veins.

“Oh,” she said again. “What is it?”

“I’m–I–” he stammered. He’d planned on telling her the truth when he got back, but here she was, catching him in the lie. It was somehow so much worse than he’d thought it would be. He braced himself for the blow, for her anger, for her disappointment.

She sighed. “You’re getting pretty familiar with this hook I keep letting you off of,” she told him. “At least eat real quick before you go do…whatever. Ninja flips.”

Matt cracked a small smile. “I’m sorry, I know I said–”

“It’s fine,” she said before he could dig himself even farther into the hole he was making. “Really.”

“You’re lying,” he said softly. He didn’t need to hear her heartbeat to be able to tell. The tone of her voice was enough. Though her heart was evidence enough, too. “It’s not fine. You’re disappointed. I knew this–”

“Matt, of course I’m disappointed. But it’s really okay. I don’t expect you to drop everything for me.” She held out the paper bag with his food. He could smell the grease and breading from one of his favorite fish and chip places. “Besides, you could have just told me you were going out. You didn’t need to lie.”

He muttered something curses darkly to himself as he took the food. He’d brought this on himself. He always did.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to hear what you said to know it was more–”

“Self-flagellating bullshit.” He sighed. “I just–this always gets in the way of my relationships. Every time. And I’m sorry it does, but this is important, and–”

“Matt, I’m disappointed we don’t get to have sex immediately after we eat, not that you’re going out as Daredevil.”

His head snapped up. “What?” He stopped breathing for a second as he parsed her words.

Grace smothered a laugh. “Was I lying? No. Because it’s okay. I know what you do is important, and I won’t stop you or try to make you feel bad about yourself.” He heard a rustle as she shrugged and a crunch as she popped one of the fries in her mouth. “I may have been with an asshole for a really long time, but even I know you can’t just expect a partner to drop everything they do and tailor their schedules to you and your relationship.”

Matt was still frozen in the same position. She…didn’t care that he was going out as Daredevil. And she wasn’t lying about it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. After a moment, he laughed, a low sound that she felt more than heard. “You are–constantly surprising me.”

“Refreshing, isn’t it? I already told you all of this. Looks like it only took–” She paused. “–roughly eight hours for you to forget it.”

Matt strode forward and kissed her lightly. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m–I’m trying. I swear. And to show you that I’m trying, I’m going to tell you that I’m going after those assholes who came here last night, to try to get some information out of them.”

“They were released?” she asked. He heard a note of fear in her voice. A trace of moisture in the air as her palms began to sweat. Her heart raced.

Matt’s hands traced her jaw, her neck. “I’m not going to be gone long,” he said. “I promise.” He inhaled her scent even as though it was tainted with fear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He’d never meant a promise more in his life. He would protect her, no matter what. And what he was about to go do was the first step in that.

She took a deep breath and her heart calmed almost immediately as she breathed. “Sorry, I just–” She shrugged again. Even the sweat on her palms dissipated.

“You’re…weirdly good at that.” Matt listened intently as her body calmed further. He’d noticed her calming herself quickly before.

“I’ve lived with fear for a long time,” she said softly. Anger stirred at her words. Fear of that man that she’d been with. “Now, here. The man behind the counter gave me a funny look when I asked what your order was. He thinks I’m stalking you, probably.”

Matt didn’t comment on what she’d said. All he did was take the bag from her and say, “I won’t be long. I swear. And I’ll try to keep an ear out for anything happening, okay?” He would be on high alert for anything and would do a loop around the neighborhood first, just to make sure nothing suspicious was happening.

“Be careful, please,” she said. Her next words almost knocked him off of his feet. “I still plan to pay you back, you know.”

Matt groaned because he knew exactly what she meant by that. “Stop trying to get me to stay home.”

“I’m trying to get you to come back,” she said.

Matt was quiet for a moment. “I will,” he said earnestly. “Don’t worry about me.”

She kissed him again, and then he was gone, out of the roof door without looking back, slipping the devil’s guise over his face as he went.

–

Despite Grace’s words, guilt plagued Matt as he moved across the city. His gut reaction had been to lie to her about what he was thinking about, about what he was doing, and she’d caught him anyway. He didn’t know how to do this, how to be with someone who knew his secret and accepted it. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that she did accept it.

Matt was convinced that, even though things were starting off well, Grace would eventually come to resent him, to resent his time as Daredevil.

Because he had learned one thing in his years being a vigilante–he didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t. It was as much a part of him as his DNA was. He had come to terms with that fact and it had taken a lot of work to find peace with it.

But God, did he want to do right by Grace. Not just because she’d been with an abusive asshole for years, but because she deserved someone to treat her well. Matt knew he wasn’t up to the job and yet she still wanted to try with him.

The hope that Matt felt overshadowed every other emotion.

Matt’s mind might be a thousand miles away–or, more accurately, about a mile back in his apartment–but his focus was still on those men.

Anger quickly rose on a wave and washed away his thoughts about Grace. Those men had broken into his home to take her. To take her back to her asshole of an ex, the man who had beaten her, the man she was terrified of.

Ellison’s work had been quick and thorough. He’d tracked the security company the men had claimed to be a part of, and had somehow even used his many connections to find out where the men went after being released.

When Matt had gotten the information from Karen, he hadn’t been surprised.

The security company had recently bought the warehouse that Grace had told him about.

No doubt the security company was a shell that Dean Bennett owned.

Matt would dig into all of that later. Getting a paper trail to connect nefarious things to Dean Bennett was a problem for another day.

Right now, he had a score to settle with the men who had broken into his home.

The warehouse was mostly empty. From what he could tell from his perch on the roof closest to the building, they were setting things up to make it look like an actual security company was running it. No wonder it had been empty when he’d first investigated–Dean Bennett was using a legitimate business to cover up his crimes. Or something that was going to look as close to a legitimate business as it could get.

He heard at least six people inside, one of them moaning loudly about being forced to work late. Four of them were the men who’d just been released.

Matt’s blood heated. A calmness washed through him as he straightened from his perch.

He was going to get some answers.

It was easy enough to find the breaker box for the first floor of the warehouse. It wasn’t quite sunset yet so he needed all the darkness he could get. He’d been in a rush to get to the men before they disappeared.

He could hear cursing from most of the men as the warehouse was doused in shadows.

The first man went down quickly and quietly. Matt stashed him in the office, which was now actually being used as an office.

The second man came to investigate. Matt couldn’t believe his luck–out of six men, the first two he took out weren’t from the group who’d broken into his apartment. He pulled the second man’s unconscious body into the office too, divested them of their guns and phones, and stepped back out into the shadows.

He focused on the echos in the building to locate the other four. Two were talking amongst themselves, completely unconcerned. A third was headed his way.

He almost missed the fourth, who had snuck up behind him while he’d been taking care of the first two.

The first gunshot was so close it rang in Matt’s ears. He’d moved right before it had gone off, the whisper of air moving around the barrel alerting him to the man’s presence just in time. His aim was true and his fist connected with the man’s wrist. The gun clattered to the ground.

Matt struck again, quickly, knocking him out as another gunshot rang out from behind him. He ducked and rolled out of the way.

The three remaining men surrounded him.

Anger rose in him again, blinding him momentarily. These men had broken into his home and had been trying to take Grace back to the man who had hurt her for years.

Matt shouted as one of the men got a good hit to his ribs as he whirled and kicked at another. Four down, two to go. He received another blow, to his mouth this time, and he spat blood without losing momentum. He was too angry to feel the pain and simply used it to fuel his anger.

There was only one man left standing, his arm hanging at his side, shoulder dislocated.

“What do you want with Grace St. James?” Matt demanded. He could have gone about it more carefully, but he didn’t want to. It didn’t matter–he wanted word to get out that the devil of Hell’s Kitchen was protecting Grace. Then maybe that asshole Dean Bennett would think twice before trying anything else.

“Who?” the man asked, clearly confused. He wasn’t lying either, wasn’t faking.

Matt paused, fists still raised. “The girl you were sent to kidnap. What did you want with her?”

When the man didn’t answer, Matt hit him. Then he kicked his knees out from under him and grabbed him by the shirt. He leaned in close, letting the guise of the devil stare the man in the eyes. He could scent the man’s fear as clearly as if it were his blood, pouring from his body in waves.

“What were you going to do with the girl?” Matt shook the man.

“I–I don’t know, I swear! We just received an address and a payment. We were supposed to bring her back here and wait for the man to come back! That’s all! He gave us a cover story and bailed us out, I don’t know anything else I swear.”

“Who hired you, then?”

The man coughed and Matt scented blood. A few of the man’s teeth were loose from the blows Matt had delivered.

“I don’t know his name, the payment came from a shell company. He gave us a burner number, that’s all! We don’t care where the money comes from, we just–”

Matt’s fist cut off any more words. He dug through the unconscious man’s pockets and took the cell phone.

Now he had to figure out how to connect it all to Dean Bennett.

Matt went home with disappointment lodged in his chest. He’d hoped for more tangible answers to take back to Grace.

His blood warmed at the thought of Grace waiting for him back at the apartment, at not having to hide. As he leapt over rooftop after rooftop, Matt allowed himself a small smile.

Grace’s POV

True to his word, Matt wasn’t gone long. He was back within two hours. Grace was sitting on the couch, a book in hand that she wasn’t reading, when the rooftop door clicked open.

As soon as she heard it she jumped up. Matt was…limping as he came down the stairs.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. He waved a hand at her as he made his slow way down the stairs.

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just took a couple of hits.”

“How the fuck did you ever sneak around like this with me living here?” she asked as he toed off his boots at the bottom of the stairs and then let his helmet thunk to the ground. She tried not to ogle him in the Daredevil armor as he moved about the apartment. But God, it was hot.

“I waited until you were asleep,” he said, as if it should be obvious. “And when you caught me a couple of times, I lied. Sleepwalking, insomnia…”

Grace made a face. “Oh. Right. I forgot about that. I was so worried you’d sleepwalk right off the roof, too.”

He grinned at her. “You’re a pretty heavy sleeper, you know,” he said as he fumbled at the back of his neck for something. There was a slight noise, and then he was tugging a zipper down, revealing the muscled expanse of his back.

Grace couldn’t help the little breath that escaped. “Please tell me you’re not wearing underwear under that thing.” Her blood heated even further. She’d had a bit of a crush on Daredevil ever since her first encounter with him, and knowing he was Matt, and knowing what Matt could do with his mouth and his hands…

Matt coughed and laughed. “Sorry to disappoint. It chafes pretty bad without it.”

He turned to face her and she gasped for a different reason. One side of his ribs was bruised. She noticed, too, that the corners of his mouth were bloody.

“Jesus,” she said. “You said you were fine!” Matt tried to brush past her to the kitchen but she caught his arm. He sighed but stopped. She grabbed his jaw and tilted his head to the light, making sure he didn’t have any hidden head wounds or anything. Then she stooped to look more closely at his ribs. “So does ‘fine’ mean you actually got the shit beat out of you? Your ribs might be broken or something, Matt.”

“You should ask Foggy about what I looked like when he found out I was Daredevil,” Matt said in a dry voice. “This is nothing. I would call it a typical night, but it’s actually a lot better than that.” He tilted his head slightly and pressed his hand lightly against his ribs. “Nah, they’re not broken. Just bruised.”

“How can you know for sure?” she asked. “Pain levels?”

“No, I–someone once told me I have x-ray fingers.”

Grace snorted. “Really?”

Matt grabbed her left hand and brushed his thumb across her skin. “I can tell this wrist was broken. It didn’t heal quite right, either. The bones shift against each other more than the ones in your right hand.”

Grace yanked her hand away as if shocked. “A parting gift from my ex.” All of the heat had left her blood at the reminder.

Matt gently took her left hand again and placed a soft kiss right where the fucked up bones were. Her pulse stuttered. He was half-in his Daredevil outfit and treating her as if she was made of glass, something delicate to be taken care of. The contradiction between the two things did something strange to her that she didn’t dislike.

“We’re going to take him down,” Matt said in a quiet voice.

Grace had to glance away from his intense expression. “I’m not so sure it can be done.”

“Don’t say that.”

Grace scoffed. “Matt, the stuff he’s been getting away with, for years…He’s powerful. He has connections. He’s basically untouchable. I mean, those guys already got released–”

“Grace, did you ever hear about a man named Wilson Fisk?” Matt interrupted. His fingers were drawing distracting but soothing circles on her hand.

“Of course. You guys had him locked up, he got out, caused chaos, and then put him away again.” She shrugged. “The FBI was even involved or something. Everyone heard about it.”

“Trust me, I doubt this guy is as powerful as Fisk ever was. And we got rid of him. For good. He’s locked up so tightly he doesn’t see another living person except when they drop off his meals through a flap in the door.” Matt raised his eyebrows. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? It might not be easy, but it can be done.”

She sighed and rubbed her free hand over her eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“And if I can’t get to him as Matt Murdock, then Daredevil might have to make a special trip outside of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Okay. I’m still not convinced we shouldn’t just send a hitman after him, but…Okay.” She squeezed his shoulder and stepped around him to get an icepack from the freezer. She gently held it to his bruised ribs. Matt’s large hand covered hers. She cocked her head as her words brought back a memory. “Who is Mank Trastle?”

Matt gave a loud, surprised laugh. “Well, do you remember the Punisher?”

Grace’s mind was blank for a long moment. Then it clicked. “Oh. Frank Castle? Wait–Karen’s friends with him? Wait–isn’t he dead?”

“Yes, Frank Castle. And I don’t know if I’d call it a friendship, but they’ve helped each other out. And no…he’s not dead.” Matt’s hand tightened as he gently extricated himself from her and went towards the bedroom. “God, there’s so much you don’t know–”

“Well, I mean…I at least know the basics right?” She trailed after him as he kicked the suit off the rest of the way. She watched his muscles with fascination but her eyes kept snagging on the rapidly darkening bruise on his side. God, he looked good in nothing but his underwear. But she really needed to stop focusing on that. “You’re Daredevil, and a lawyer, and you put Fisk away, and Frank Castle isn’t dead.”

“I also fought ancient ninjas and had a skyscraper dropped on top of me, pretended that I didn’t make it out alive, and tried to kill Fisk before my better nature won out.” Matt’s voice was bitter as he yanked open a drawer and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

Grace’s eyes snapped from her inspection of his ass to his face. “You–what–a skyscraper?”

Matt sighed tiredly and sat on the edge of the bed. One of his hands dragged across his face. His knuckles were bruised. She was pretty sure it was from the night before. “I…want to preface this by saying I'm not trying to go through the self-flagellation thing. But I always struggled with this…darkness in me. And there was a time that I wanted to give up. To give in and let Matt Murdock disappear. I finally got to a place where I accepted that I want to be both, that I have to be, but that darkness still…it still consumes me sometimes. And I want to be up front about that with you. So you know what you’re getting into.”

Grace sat next to him, their shoulders touching. “Do you know what I was thinking today as I was going through all of those photos, looking for evidence to back up the absolute worst years of my life?”

“What’s that?”

“That that life…it was nothing but shadows with brief flashes of light. And no matter how hard I try to forget it, it’s impossible. That time of darkness is…is a part of me. A part I might always struggle with. There’ll still be times where a certain scent makes me panic, or when a man raises his hand in a particular way that makes me think he’s going to hit me, or times when I wake up thinking I’m back inside those shadows.” She reached out for Matt’s hand. “I’m not saying I know what it’s like to be you, or deal with the kind of darkness you deal with…but I get it, to an extent. My eyes are wide open, Matt.”

He blew out a breath and squeezed her fingers. “I don’t understand,” he finally said, slowly, as if he was choosing his words very carefully, “how I found someone like you.”

“I believe I came into your office and begged for a job.” She bumped his shoulder with her own.

“I mean it,” he said in a low voice. “I already told you, Daredevil has always complicated my relationships in one way or another. I don’t want that with you, but every time I bring it up, you shrug it off.”

“I’m not shrugging it off,” she said. “I accept it. Respect it, even. I kind of even had a crush on Daredevil.” Her face flushed even though she wasn’t exactly embarrassed of the fact.

“That’s not what I meant.” He made a frustrated noise. “I–When Foggy found out, it almost killed him. And me. Our friendship was obliterated, and it took years to get to a good place. Sometimes I can hear in his voice that he still doesn’t understand, that he still doesn’t necessarily like it. And then when I tell you, you immediately just–don’t care. Not that you don’t care, but it’s like it wasn’t a huge deal. And that’s–a lot for me.”

“I always thought Daredevil was kind of hot,” Grace mused. She hated the idea that his longest, most meaningful friendship had barely survived the truth of him being Daredevil. But she took comfort knowing they were in a good spot now, at least. So she joked to lighten the burden for him, if only a little. “This is like a dream come true for me.”

Matt laughed and shook his head. “Joke all you want–it’s a big deal for me, and I just–I–appreciate it. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“So you keep saying. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if you mess up, just like I hope you let me know if I mess up. That’s what a relationship should be.”

“Is that what this is?” Matt asked, a different note of emotion entering his voice. He turned his head as if to look her in the eyes. “A relationship?”

Grace’s heart fluttered. “I’d like it to be.”

“I would too.”

She reached up and cupped his jaw to tilt his face towards her. She kissed him carefully, aware of the blood she’d seen on his lips earlier. He made a small noise of protest when she pulled away. “As much as I’d really, really like to continue this, your ribs are busted and I don’t want to make it worse.”

Matt sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay earlier.”

“It’s alright, Matt, I promise. We should probably go on a proper date first anyways.” She smiled at him and couldn’t help but press another kiss to his lips.

His thumb traced the line of her jaw. She shivered at the touch. “Mm. You’re right. I’m usually much more of a gentleman than this.”

“Trust me, I’m very okay with you not being a gentleman.” The night after Josie’s flashed through her mind, Matt on his knees painted in red light.

“Is that right?” Matt’s smile turned cocky. She made herself look at the bruise on his side to remind herself why she couldn’t jump him right then and there. Because she really, really wanted to. She even debated, briefly, asking him to put the Daredevil suit back on, then shook the thought away.

“It is. But your ribs are busted, and we didn’t get much sleep last night. And I–want to do this right as much as you do.” She really did–she wanted it all with him. The dates, the getting to know each other, the late nights spent talking about nothing. All that, and more.

He kissed the top of her head. “My ribs aren’t busted. Just bruised.”

She rolled her eyes. “Same difference. One wrong move and they’re broken, and the mood is killed. And I really don’t want to have to be careful.” She shoved the thoughts of what it would be like to lose control with him away from her mind.

Matt chuckled. “I guess you have a point. In that case, I’m going to take a shower.”

Grace couldn’t help the images that flashed through her mind, unconsciously clenching her thighs together. Down girl, she told herself. She was trying not to sleep with him, damn it, but her mind was doing its best to rile her up anyways.

Matt paused, his hand gripping the bathroom door frame so tightly it creaked. His nostrils flared, and she realized that he knew exactly what just went through her mind because of his enhanced senses.

She flopped back on the bed with a groan. “Sorry,” she said, voice muffled from her hands covering her face. Another thought occurred to her. “God, you know every single time I have a sex dream don’t you?” She made a face, wincing.

Matt’s jaw flexed. “Yeah,” he said tightly after a moment. “Yeah, I do. But I swear I try really hard not to notice.”

“God, that’s embarrassing. I swear I’m not a sixteen year old with raging hormones, I just–”

“It’s alright,” he said. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Even worse, he was still only in sweatpants, and the vision of him without his shirt on was really doing a number on her. “I–don’t usually notice so much but I’m so…in tune with you it’s hard not to…notice. Not to…react.” She noticed that his face was flushed, his breathing faster than it had been, that hand still gripping the door frame like a lifeline.

Oh, she thought.

Matt Murdock was really turned on, and was trying to act like he wasn’t.

She bit her lips so hard she tasted blood. Matt still hadn’t moved. Her thighs clenched unconsciously again.

Voice strained, he said, “You’re making it really hard to take things slow, Grace.” His voice was edged in gravel, scraping her skin raw as the words danced up her spine.

Grace stood and walked very slowly towards him. Did she imagine it, or did the wood of the door frame creak as his muscles tensed even more? Matt looked like a man about to snap.

And Grace wanted to make him snap. Wanted him to lose control, like he’d done to her the other night.

There were things she could do that didn’t involve anything near his bruised ribs, after all. She turned the thought over in her mind. There were definitely ways she could pay him back without him having to move a muscle. Things she really wanted to do.

She pressed her palms to Matt’s muscled back. A tremor went through his frame as her hands slid up his spine to his shoulders. His skin was so warm it was almost hot. One of her hands grabbed loosely at the back of his neck while the other trailed down his arm and down to the hand gripping the wall like it was holding him up. Or holding him back.

“I thought you were going to shower, Matt,” she said in a husky voice she barely recognized.

“I was,” he said thickly. She felt him swallow hard. She let her hands explore every inch of his back and shoulders and arms that wasn’t bruised. Another tremor went through him and she heard him exhale shakily. She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. She wondered if stuff like this–a lover’s touch–was something his senses amplified even more.

She wanted to find out, but now wasn’t the time.

She gripped his hips lightly, then stepped back and ducked under his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice so tight she knew he was barely hanging on by a thread.

Grace looked back at him over her shoulder. She pulled her shirt over her head. “If you’re not going to shower, I am.” She turned the shower on so the water would warm up.

She shimmied out of her pants then unhooked her bra. Matt still hadn’t moved. She could hear him breathing heavily behind her. She pretended she didn’t notice the effect she was having on him, even though he could tell how fast her heart was racing, how aroused she already was.

Her underwear were lace again, a nice black pair–not that Matt would know about the color. But she was certain he could hear the difference in material as she very slowly slid those off, too. Matt gasped and she knew she was right. He knew her underwear were sexy, even if he couldn’t see them.

She stepped into the warm spray of water and let out a little sigh. The water really felt nice. She closed her eyes and brushed her hands over her breasts, down her stomach, to her thighs.

When she opened them, she saw Matt through the glass door of the shower. He’d finally let go of the door frame and seemed to be fighting with himself.

Grace touched herself and was rewarded by his head snapping towards her. With a noise of frustration she could hear over the water, Matt stripped off his sweatpants and kicked them to the side. She saw how much he strained against his underwear. Her mouth went dry as he got rid of those, too, and she was finally rewarded with the sight of Matt Murdock entirely naked. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

In her haste, she hadn’t turned the bathroom light on. Matt was illuminated through the open door from behind by a soft magenta coming through the windows. Grace stared at him, and knew he knew she was staring. His head tilted to the side, hearing what the sight of him did to her, and that goddamn cocky smile spread slowly across his face. Her eyes dipped down and her entire body flushed at the sight of just how aroused he was.

With the edges of his naked body framed in purple, Matt stalked towards her slowly, purposefully.

“I thought you wanted to take things slow,” he said, the words half a growl. He looked almost…predatory. But instead of being afraid, Grace was even more turned on. Her heart was racing so fast she felt a little faint.

“I’m just taking a shower,” she said, but the innocent words were breathless with anticipation. “I never said we were having sex.”

Matt stepped into the water, closer and closer until her back hit the cold tile wall. She bit back a gasp. She glanced up at Matt, water cascading over his hair and face and his deliciously muscled shoulders.

One of his hands moved, and she tensed at the anticipation of his hands on her body.

When he stepped back, she blinked in surprise. Matt squirted some shampoo into his hand and started washing his hair as if nothing was happening, despite the raging hard on he so obviously had.

Grace frowned, then reached for the bar of soap. She lathered up her hands and smoothed them over Matt’s shoulders. He froze again. She said nothing, working her way down across his abs and around to his back, careful to keep just enough space between them that no other part of their bodies touched. She was careful, too, to avoid the bruises on his side. She was determined to make him feel only pleasure, no pain.

He was breathing heavily again, his eyes closing as her soapy hands brushed his hips and down the front of his thighs. She couldn’t help it–her hands slid around to his back and then lower, gripping his ass quickly before letting go. Matt jolted.

“Sorry,” she said breezily. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Is that the only thing?” he asked, still cocky and sure of himself.

In response, she reached out and brushed across his cock. His breath stuttered out of him, a pained noise coming from his throat.

She stepped closer, their bodies pressing together, skin sliding against skin, as her hand grabbed him firmly.

“No,” she murmured. “That’s not the only thing.” Her hand started pumping him as the other continued exploring his muscles. His hand smoothed down her back and grabbed her ass. She nipped a spot on his neck as her hand kept moving very slowly around his length. “I promised I’d pay you back, didn’t I?”

Matt’s mouth opened, but he seemed incapable of speech as her other hand joined the first. His free hand smacked wetly against the wall as his body shuddered.

Grace had never been so turned on, except for maybe when Matt had been on his knees in front of her.

“Last night,” Grace said, then moaned as Matt cupped her breast. “This is what I was imagining. That you had joined me.” He panted, breath hot on her neck before he kissed her there, right where her pulse hammered beneath her skin. “I imagined–Fuck.” He’d lightly pinched her nipple, a jolt of electricity sparking down her entire body. “I imagined that night when we kissed on the counter. I imagined doing that again, but naked. You fucking me there.”

Matt kissed her, mouth open, his tongue demanding. The hand that had been on the wall gripped her neck. She didn’t think someone grabbing her neck could be so fucking hot, but she grew even more turned on.

But she had a plan in mind, first.

Grace pulled away with the kiss with a desperate gasp, extricating herself from Matt, who almost whined. It took all of her willpower, but she managed to step away from him.

He went still as she got to her knees. She looked up at him, blinking water from her eyes. His hand fumbled in the air before it came to rest on her shoulder, like he couldn’t tell where she’d gone. She didn’t think he was breathing.

“You don’t–” he murmured, but his words cut off with a loud moan as her lips wrapped around him. His other hand tangled in her hair. Matt cursed as she moved slowly, her tongue tasting him. God, she never knew that this could be so fucking hot, either. She’d never enjoyed doing this before, but it was almost as good as if he’d been touching her, pleasing her. Her thighs clenched together again and Matt’s hips jerked in response. She choked lightly and he tried to back away, but she gripped his ass with both hands and held him there.

“Grace,” he choked out. “Fuck.”

The way he said her name made her moan around him and his hips jerked again, fucking her mouth like he couldn’t help it. She felt like she could come just from pleasing him. She remembered Matt on his knees, his mouth on her, the desperate noises he’d made. She understood perfectly how much he’d enjoyed it, enjoyed watching her come undone from just his mouth, because that’s how she felt at that moment.

Matt’s movements became quicker, more erratic, and he suddenly half-shoved her away.

His hands lightly cupped her face and he drew her upwards to kiss her roughly. His hands were all over her, like he couldn’t get enough of her, of touching her. The water poured over them, making their skin slip and slide against each other.

He spun her around and pinned her against the wall so quickly she gasped. The tile was freezing against her aching breasts, a delicious contradiction to the heat of Matt as he pressed his chest against her back and sloppily kissed down her neck and across her shoulder. One of his hands kneaded her breast while the other slid down, down, down.

The first brush against her clit made her jerk forward, but Matt’s hand on her chest kept her in place, pressed tightly against him. His cock was pressing against her hip and ass.

A desperate noise fell from her lips as Matt’s fingers slipped into her.

“Fuck,” he said again as he felt exactly how turned on she was. The hand on her breast came up to loosely hold her throat and the sensation sent another bolt of pleasure through her. She’d had no idea she liked that until he did it. And the fact that it was Matt, that she knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t hurt her, made it an even headier sensation.

His fingers worked relentlessly, and she came hard around within minutes. Matt moaned as she clenched around him. She shuddered through the orgasm, stars in her eyes, her body tensing and relaxing as she came down from the high.

She whirled around and went straight back to her knees. Staring up at him, she said hoarsely, “I’m supposed to be paying you back.” Then she took him into her mouth again and set a relentless pace, her tongue moving as she took him deep into her throat, one hand wrapping around the base.

“Grace, I’m–” he tried to say, trying to pull away, but she only took him deeper, faster, and he came with a sharp cry. His hips jerked as she tasted him, almost coming again from just the sounds Matt was making. He was shaking as she used her tongue to keep him clean.

When he finally stilled, she released him with a wet pop and then stood on shaky legs. Matt leaned his forehead against hers, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he said in a low voice.

“Then don’t,” she said, a challenge. Matt kissed her, lingering against her.

“I mean it,” he said. “No one has ever made me so crazy like you. No one’s made me lose control like you. Not even–”

It’s the way his words cut off that doused her in a cold chill as if the hot water had run out. Matt moved away, just enough, his expression troubled. Grace picked up her shampoo. Might as well finish the shower, she thought, though apprehension curled through her limbs and weighed her down.

“Not even…?” she asked carefully. She made sure to keep her expression light, her heart steady, employing years of techniques she’d used to keep calm in terrifying situations. This wasn’t terrifying though–it was something else, an emotion she wasn’t familiar with. She ducked her head into the water to rinse out the suds.

“Elektra.” Her name was a resigned sigh on Matt’s lips. He reached out before she could condition her hair, taking the bottle from her. Grace closed her eyes as his long fingers worked gently through the tangles. She hummed. The gesture was sweet, intimate, even more so than what they’d just done.

“Ah,” Grace said as he worked the substance into her hair. “She the one who gave you the pink silk pajamas?”

Matt huffed a laugh. One of his hands steadied her shoulder as he guided her head under the water to rinse. “No, though she would have been the one to buy me something expensive like that.”

“What happened between you? Sorry–you just said before…” She bit the corner of her lip. “You said before that Daredevil always came between you and your relationships.”

Matt didn’t say anything. He picked up the bar of soap–someone knowing that she’d been using his scentless soap instead of her own–and started lathering her body. His hands kneaded tight muscles, and she almost moaned at the sensation. It wasn’t sexual, but like him washing her hair, it was intimate.

Right when she assumed he wouldn’t answer the question, Matt said, “She died.”

Grace sucked in a breath. “Oh, Matt. I’m sorry.”

“I–It was complicated. We weren’t…together at that time. But we could have been, if things had been different.” There was a tortured look on Matt’s face. She could see the pain in the tightness in his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. She didn’t want to press but the urge to know was almost overwhelming. It was all over his face, the love he’d had for this woman, the pain he still felt over her death. It was consuming her, this new, unknown emotion, dark and twisted and sharp in her gut.

“I’m sorry,” she said again as the soap washed from her body.

Matt switched off the water and reached out for their towels. “I should probably…tell you about her.”

Grace suddenly had a name for the emotion.

Jealousy.

Matt touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He followed her into the bedroom. Her heart had picked up a bit and she hated that he could hear it. She didn’t want to care so much about a dead ex of Matt’s, but she did.

“Only if you want to,” she said as she pulled out some pajamas. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

Matt stood there, bathed in soft blue light from the sign outside, his head tilted to the side, towel slung low on his hips. Listening to her heart. To her lie. The light shifted to a darker blue. Water glistened across his chest.

“You want me to,” he said, and it wasn’t a question or even an accusation. Merely a fact he was stating.

Grace made a frustrated noise. “Stop–eavesdropping,” she said, which earned her half a smile. “Of course I do, but I respect your boundaries.”

“I want to tell you about her,” he said. At the words, something within her eased and settled.

“Then you have to put clothes on first.” He seemed confused, a little wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. “You’re too distracting,” she said, waving a hand at his body.

Matt chuckled, but went to the dresser and pulled out underwear and a t-shirt. The droplets on his skin darkened the material of his shirt after he tugged it on. “Better?”

“Much better.”

Grace went back into the bathroom to finish her nighttime routine. Matt followed her and leaned against the open door, his arms crossed. She didn’t press, merely waited for him to tell her what he was going to tell her.

“Elektra and I met in college,” Matt said after a couple of minutes. “We met at a fancy party Foggy and I were crashing. I left with her in a car she’d stolen, even though she was the daughter of diplomats and could have bought any car she wanted. She was…chaotic. Full of life. Unafraid. She had a mean streak, a sense of darkness and violence in her that took me a long time to see. I stopped going to class and almost flunked out. Our relationship ended with her taking me to the house of the man who’d ordered the death of my father. She tried to get me to kill him.”

Grace’s breath hissed through her teeth in a sharp inhale. Questions brimmed at the tip of her tongue but she kept silent.

“And when I didn’t give in, she left me.” Matt laughed without humor. “She left me, and it broke me. Foggy was the one who picked up the pieces, really. And then one day she showed up in my apartment here after Karen and I had gone on a date.” Matt rubbed at his hair with one hand, flinging water everywhere. Grace watched him, rapt, leaning back against the bathroom counter. “She tricked me into helping her, into getting involved with the Hand, and doing the one thing I’d sworn never to do–join Stick’s stupid holy war.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said, unable to help herself. “I just–Stick? The Hand?”

Matt hummed and took a deep breath. “Sorry there’s–so much you don’t know. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but so many of the things that have happened to me, especially since becoming Daredevil, are all tied together. Stick is the blind man who trained me as a kid after I lost my dad. He taught me to fight, to use my abilities, and to do the two together. He actually trained Elektra too, but I didn’t know that until later. The Hand was…remember how I mentioned ancient ninjas? The Hand was this secret, ancient organization that Stick was training me to fight.”

“That is…so you are a ninja?” Grace decided to joke, because maybe that would ease the shadows that were so clear on Matt’s face. He was in pain still, from all of this, from everything that had been done to him. She hadn’t missed that he said this Stick guy had trained him as a kid.

“Something like that.” Matt’s jaw twitched.

“Elektra was a ninja, too?”

“Something like that,” he said again, softer. “Stick showed up in the midst of all of that, convinced that I had to join his cause with Elektra against the Hand. So I gave her a choice. To do things my way, to be with me, to be good, or lose me and fight in Stick’s war and give in to the violence inside herself. Because she–she enjoyed killing, and when I realized that–” He swallowed hard. “I knew she could be better, and she chose me. She and I understood each other, understood the violence that drove us both. And I wanted her to see that she could choose that path–to fight, but to do it in a way that wouldn’t break her. But the Hand–the Hand killed her when we fought them, before we could find out how things could be.”

Grace covered her mouth with one hand. To love like that, and to lose someone you loved, someone who chose you over everything they’d ever known–she could see why Matt said he struggled with that darkness, and still struggled. “What happened to the Hand?” she asked after a moment. “Earlier you said the Hand was.”

“Well,” Matt said slowly. “This is where it gets hard to believe.”

“Harder to believe than an ancient organization of ninjas and you being a blind ninja?” she asked skeptically. “It can’t be much harder to believe than that.”

Matt walked away and sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, head bent as if praying. It was her turn to lean in the doorway, watching him lay himself bare to her in a wholly different way.

“The Hand brought Elektra back,” he said so quietly she was sure she’d misheard.

“Back?” she repeated. “Like, they saved her after that fight?”

Matt was shaking his head before she was finished. “No. We buried her. We had a small funeral, Stick and I. And then–I don’t know, they did some kind of ancient ritual or magic or–I don’t know what. But they brought her back somehow, without her memories, turned her into a perfect weapon they called the Black Sky.”

Grace shut her mouth quickly when she realized it was hanging open. “I–You’re right, it’s pretty unbelievable.”

Matt scoffed. “Yeah. It is. I saw it–well, experienced it–and I still couldn’t believe it. I held her as she died, and then, weeks later, she was trying to kill me.”

“But what happened to the Hand? And she–you said she died.” Grace rubbed at her temples. “I’m sorry, it’s just–”

“No, I know how it sounds. Trust me. The Hand built a skyscraper at Midland Circle.”

“Oh,” Grace said as several pieces clicked into place at the name. She remembered seeing the collapse of the building all over the news. It had been sensationalized, although no one had been reported dead. For weeks, there had been debates of terrorism, a coverup, versus what they said had happened, which was a fault line causing the collapse. “Is that…the skyscraper that almost killed you?”

“Mm. Yeah. I’m getting to that part. Long story short, I had the help of some…other people with abilities to fight the Hand throughout all of this. Elektra killed Stick and kidnapped Danny Rand–”

“Danny Rand?” Grace said. “Sorry, I swear I don’t mean to interrupt but–billionaire Danny Rand?”

“Yeah. He’s a ninja too, basically, but there’s more to it that isn’t relevant to this.” Grace blinked at Matt as he spoke, dazed. Danny Rand was also a ninja, which seemed less believable than Matt being a blind ninja. “They took him to Midland Circle, and what they were trying to accomplish was going to obliterate the city. So we went to rescue Danny and to stop them. They planted bombs to collapse the building. We went forty stories below the building to get Danny…and I sent the others out.”

There was another long pause. Grace thought that, even if Matt had sight, he wouldn’t be seeing what was right in front of him. His gaze and mind were far away, down below that building and whatever had happened down there.

“I didn’t expect to make it out alive, but I had to try. Elektra recognized me, and I had to try to appeal to her, get her to see that she could be good. With me. But–” His voice cracked slightly on the word. “The bombs went off, and the building came down. I–somehow, I made it out, but her body was never found. And the Hand…the rest of them were wiped out down there, too.”

Grace sank on to the bed next to him. She hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Jesus, Matt,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry for everything you went through.”

Matt bobbed his head in a nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

“I can’t believe–I mean, the woman you loved died twice, a building fell on your head, and–and you’re still living. You aren’t just existing, you’re living. You’re…if not happy, you’re getting there. You…amaze me.” Her gaze was hungry as it roved over him. Matt Murdock was a walking, talking miracle. A man who had faced every kind of darkness, who had faced death, and had come out on top.

“Some days, yeah,” he said. He blinked and seemed to surface from the memory as if coming from deep water. “Foggy and Karen–they’re the ones who got me to see the light again, so to speak. After Fisk was released, we tried and tried to take him down and it didn’t work. And that darkness–the very same darkness that made me want to die in that building–it consumed me. I was going to kill him. Up until the very last moment, I was going to kill him. But I didn’t. And Foggy and Karen–they saw that goodness within me, and they kept me from going down that path.” He swallowed hard again.

Her hand slid down his arm to lace her fingers with his. “I’m so, so glad.”

He tilted his head to face her. “Me too,” he said softly. “Because it all led to you.”

Her breath caught. “It’s–I’m not that special.” The words stuttered out of her as warmth settled in her cheeks. She wasn’t like this Elektra woman, who Matt said had been like him, who had understood him. Grace was just…no one. A girl who’d been dating the wrong guy, who’d ended up in Matt Murdock’s orbit by sheer chance.

“Grace,” Matt said, her name a soft protest. “Do you not remember how this conversation started?”

She blinked. All her mind conjured up was what they’d done in the shower and then his gentle hands washing her as he talked. “I’m sorry, the only thing coming to mind is…inappropriate.”

He flashed her a grin but a hint of the shadows was still there. “I was telling you that no one had ever made me crazy or out of control like you do. Not even Elektra.”

He sounded so earnest–so convicted–as he said it that she wanted to believe him. But a woman like Elektra, a woman he’d tried to save twice, who he said had understood him like no one else had understood him…It was hard to believe that she could come anywhere close in comparison.

“Please tell me what you’re thinking,” Matt finally said. “I can’t stand hearing what your thoughts are doing to your body and not knowing.”

“I’m–I’m just normal, Matt. I’m nothing special. I’m not rich, I’m not a ninja, I’m not some secret badass who understands you on a deep level.” Humiliation washed over her like hot oil. It choked her. It stole her breath. “I just…ended up begging you for a job by chance.”

“Grace.” Her name was almost a prayer. She closed her eyes. She fought the emotion rising within her, because it was so familiar to her–she wasn’t good enough, and she never would be. Matt touched her chin. “You don’t have to be rich or a ninja or a secret badass for me to like you. For you to be special. I’ve learned how kind and good you are, and that’s attractive to me.”

She made a soft noise of protest that was halfway a scoff. “Besides,” she said, ignoring him. “Is it–even a good thing that I make you crazy and out of control?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about here?” he said. “I meant that as in…I’m crazy about you. And you make me–want to kiss you every second I’m around you. You make me make bets with you when I’m drunk just so I can touch you.”

A small thrill went through her. “You can touch me whenever you want, Matt,” she said softly. “I just–sorry. I’m new to the relationship thing, believe it or not.”

Matt smirked. “Me too. My last serious girlfriend left me in college because I wouldn’t kill a man, then died, was resurrected, tried to kill me, and died again.”

“Elektra was your last serious girlfriend?” she asked, surprised.

“If you can even count it as serious. I loved her, if that’s what you mean, but our relationship was never…conventional. It wasn’t…healthy. It might have been, if things had worked out, but…Otherwise I had a few dates here and there, one night stands…that’s about it.” He shrugged.

“My only serious relationship was set up by our parents and it turned out he’s an evil bastard, so…” She chewed on the corner of her lip and fiddled with a thread on the sheets. “So is this…serious?”

“If you want it to be.” His voice was so soft, so gentle, she wanted to cry. “But I want it to be.”

“I do, too. But I don’t think this counts as a conventional relationship, either. I mean, we worked together and lived together first. Then there was the whole bet thing…And we haven’t been on a proper date yet.” Grace nudged his knee with hers.

“I think I like it better this way,” he murmured before he kissed her. “I’ve never been friends with a woman before dating, unless you count my two dates with Karen.”

“Matt, I think you’re a whore,” she said around a laugh.

“A whore?” he repeated with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve had one serious relationship, have never been friends with a woman before dating, apparently had a lot of one night stands…You’re a whore.” She laughed again at the expression on his face.

“It does sound kind of bad when you put it like that,” he said.

“I’m kidding, though. It’s just funny to hear you say it like that. We’re a pair, aren’t we? We’ve each had one serious relationship and neither of them were…healthy.” Grace bit back a yawn as she talked. She wanted to stay up with Matt all night. She’d never enjoyed someone’s company so much, even when he was talking about his badass ninja ex-girlfriend.

But of course Matt’s head tilted and he said, “You’re tired. You should sleep.”

He went to stand but she grabbed his wrist. “You might as well start sleeping in the bed, Matt.” At his clear hesitation she hurriedly added, “If you want to.”

“I do, I just–don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It won’t make me uncomfortable, I promise. Besides, there’s plenty of room.” She stroked a finger across his wrist. She studied him, his tension, and decided to switch tactics. “Please? It makes me feel safer with you next to me.”

It was the truth, and Matt knew it. He immediately softened. “Of course,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before rounding the bed and slipping between the sheets.

Grace followed his example with an excited shiver. She felt almost giddy about having him sleep in the bed with her. He wanted their relationship to be serious–something she’d never imagined could be true. And now, here he was, laying beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She curled on her side to face him. She pillowed her head on her hands and studied him openly. “I should have probably asked which side of the bed you sleep on.”

“The middle, actually,” he said with a quirk of his lips. He was on his back, but he rolled onto his side to face her. “So I might end up on top of you.”

Electricity prickled through her at his words. “Trust me, I would have no problem with that.”

His grin flashed in the darkness. “I don’t think I would either.”

“I’m just–used to sleeping on this side, is all. But I can switch, however it makes you most comfortable.”

He reached out and with unerring accuracy brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “I’m plenty comfortable, don’t worry.” The lines of his face had softened. He was tired too. She’d almost forgotten that earlier he’d been out as Daredevil, fighting, going up against at least one or maybe all of the men who’d broken in.

Grace yawned.

“Sleep, Grace,” Matt said as his hand moved from her hair to stroke the side of her face. The sensation was calming. Her muscles unclenched and her body sank a bit deeper into the mattress.

“Mm.” He gently brushed his fingers across her forehead and over her cheek. The repeated movement was making her more tired. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

Within minutes, sleep had claimed her with its long fingers, pulling her under and rocking her on gentle waves.

Next Chapter

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#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x original female character #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #daredevil x original female character #daredevil x original character #daredevil #netflix daredevil #saved #saved daredevil #saved fic

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noteguk · 3 years

Note

bro bad influence! jk and reader are 100% the type of couple to argue mid-sex i love this culture

They are!!!!

Taglist: @ft-multi @cryinginmypromdress @kooafraid @kissestothesky @dianaaviny @ggukkieland

[ ! ] this drabble is for “bad influence” — it can, however, be read as a standalone.

— words; 1.8k

— contents and warnings; hmmm smut, semi-public sex, oral (m rec and mention of f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of cum play, playfully “arguing” mid-sex, the endless adventures of bad boy!jk x good girl! reader

“I can’t believe you, Jungkook,” your voice came out as an irritated murmur against the warm skin of his neck, barely interrupted by a soft whimper. “We’re gonna be late for class.”

His hand grew tighter around your thigh, pushing your leg higher up. Jungkook was buried deep between your folds, filling you up in every way that you loved, and yet you were a bit too paranoid to fully dive into those sensations. “Hmmm don’t care,” he groaned, the slaps of his skin against yours filling that small cabinet in a rhythmic symphony. Twice already, a broom had fallen on top of you, knocking you right on the forehead, and so you refused to let it go. That entire scene was ridiculous. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned.

You rolled your eyes, amazed at how he managed to ignore everything else but the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The fact that you two were having a quickie in the janitor’s closet, exactly fifteen minutes before your most important class, was bad enough as it was. Your escapade was far from heavenly, with the stiff air impregnated by the nauseating aroma of a hundred different chemical products, the annoyingly flickering lightbulb over you, and, as stated, the paraphernalia that was knocked over every time Jungkook’s thrusts got a little too rough.

“God, why are you like this?” you complained.

He hummed, his fingers digging into your flesh. You could tell that Jungkook was starting to lose himself in you, for the roll of his hips started to get slower, less coordinated, as they always did when he was trying to prolong his pleasure. “Like what?” He breathed out.

You leaned your head back against the wall, looking at those devilish eyes of his. Jungkook’s hair was a mess, exploding around his head like a failed scientific experiment, and you knew that one look was all it took to know that it was sex hair. “Why do you always have to pick the worst time to do this stuff?” you clarified.

He scoffed. “Excuse me, princess, I think it was you who locked us in here,” he said. He wasn’t wrong, but, to be fair, you weren’t expecting that your make-out session would escalate to that. Then again, you were often naive when it came to his antics. “Now stay quiet or people are going to hear you.”

“Fuck off,” you whispered — whispered, because he was right. You had been controlling your moans and whimpers fairly well, but your normal speaking voice wasn’t a good idea either. There was no way to lock the room from the inside, and anyone could open that door at any given second.

Jungkook smirked like he knew what you were thinking about — that fucked-out, greek god smirk that had your knees weak for a second. His face was bathed by the golden light from the bulb, dripping in shadows and lustful gazes. “Wrong answer,” he teased. “You were supposed to say ‘Oh, Jungkook, I can’t keep quiet when you’re fucking me so well’.”

As if to prove his claim, Jungkook placed his face on the crook of your neck and pressed himself even deeper inside you. The feeling of his cock stretching you open was intoxicating, and the timid moan you let out was enough to make him throb inside you, gasping against the sweet scent of your hair.

Still, you wouldn’t bulge. “Gooood, shut up, please,” you whined, interlacing your fingers in his hair. There was a thin layer of sweat on his nape, the expected result from fucking in a hot, closed-off enviroment. “Are you close?”

“Yeah, almost there,” he moaned, picking his pace back up. You had to bite your lip to suppress a particularly loud moan after one of his hands slithered up your abdomen and grabbed your clothed breast, playing with it as he continued to seek his own high. His other hand still had its iron grip on your thigh, keeping your leg up as he continued to pound himself in and out of your wet heat. “Fuck, I love these skirts you wear. Easy access.”

“You’re such a caveman,” you said. Jungkook was breathing heavy against your ear, fighting for air as he mumbled sweet nothings just for you. You were almost overtaken by him — the pounding of his cock inside your pussy, his delicious moans and curses, the praises that he threw your way for being so good for him. Almost. “Don’t cum inside.”

Jungkook visibly tensed up at your request. You could tell that some part of his primitive brain was thinking of repeating one of his past endeavours — one that he came inside you, and made you walk around campus with his cum in you for the rest of the day. It was really hard to keep an upper hand when Jungkook was always knowingly smirking at you from across the room, loving the way that only the two of you knew of that little nasty secret.

(Miraculously, it was one of the few times that he didn’t feel slightly jealous when he saw you talking to other guys, but you didn’t have to know that).

Still, you weren't wearing pants that day, so the whole ordeal wouldn’t be so easy to hide.

A small whimper left his throat as he leaned forward, placing a wet kiss against your lips. You were looking at him with those big, doll-like eyes of yours, and he couldn’t refuse your request even if he wanted to fill you up so bad. “Awn, you’re so mean,” he whined, forehead touching yours. Every shove of his cock inside you had you bouncing up and down against the wall, that stupid broom threatening to tilt once again. “Can I cum in your mouth, baby?”

You hummed, trying to torture him with a fake thinking session. “Don’t know…” You hesitated. Jungkook cursed against your shoulder, his cock throbbing inside you once again. “Do you have gum?”

“Jesus, woman,” he complained, almost choking on his own pleasure. “Yeah, I have gum. Can I do it?”

You smiled. “Suit yourself.” You had to use all the force inside you to place your hands on his shoulders and push him away. Jungkook almost sobbed when he pulled himself out of your heat, his cock glistening with your wetness, swollen and reddened. “And cum quickly or I’ll kill you.”

You got to your knees before Jungkook had the chance to respond, your hand wrapping around his base and pumping him tentatively. He bucked his hips towards you, hissing at the sensitivity. “Listen, I’m really fucking close,” he told you, “and I don’t think you’d fancy a facial right now, so stop with that teasing.”

You chuckled at his comment, fumbling closer to him. “You know me too well.”

With that, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sinking his member inside your mouth until it almost reached your throat. Jungkook cried out in delight, louder than he had the entire time, and you were sure any passing strangers had heard him.

Yet your paranoia was forgotten when he started talking.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, placing his hand on the back of your head and tugging at your hair. Jungkook guided your movements with little force, watching as you had your fun around his cock — sucking and slurping him like it was the best thing in the world, the tears that accumulated at the corners of your eyes looking like a divine gift to him. “God, I love when you suck my cock, fuck—“

You moaned around him, the vibrations feeling like heaven to the boy. With a few more pumps of your mouth around him, Jungkook was coming undone with a loud hiss and a desperate buckle of his hips, calling out your name as he released his cum inside you. “Swallow everything,” his voice was hoarse as he told you that, meeting your watery eyes as you fought to drink every drop of his cum that you could. Jungkook smirked at your efforts, fingers caressing your scalp as you finished cleaning him up. “Good girl.”

You sighed happily at his praise, taking his hand as he helped you back on your feet. You could only hope that your knees wouldn’t be red by the time that you arrived at your classroom.

“Love watching you with my cock in your mouth, baby.” Jungkook leaned closer to you, wrapping his arms on your lower back. He gifted you with a quick peck on the lips, still breathing hard against your mouth. “I hate that you don’t let me snap a picture.”

You laughed at that, running one hand through his messy hair in an attempt to save it a bit. In the end, you decided it would be better if he just pushed it back. “I’m not an idiot, believe it or not.” You smiled. “Gum?”

Jungkook nodded and reached for his jacket’s pocket. “Here you go.” He handed you the small colorful wrapping. You promptly threw a piece in your mouth, humming at the sweet taste. He pouted. “You’re going to class like this? You didn’t cum, baby.”

“I’m aware,” you told him, fixing your panties and skirt. Jungkook didn’t seem to worry about the state of his pants, though, because he didn’t follow your movements. “But I’m not gonna be late to this class, today’s topic is half of what’s gonna be on the test. Pick me up after the lesson and maybe you can deal with my delayed orgasm situation. If I’m feeling nice.”

Jungkook smirked, pulling your body closer to his. “Hmmm, love when you boss me around.”

He kissed you again and, when the kiss started to get a bit too long for your liking, you pushed him away. “Jungkook, listen, I have two fucking minutes—“

“Okay, okay, go.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that his attempts at prolonging your little escapade wouldn’t be fruitful. Jungkook stepped back so he could tug himself back inside his underwear, and you turned around to open the door. As your fingers were curling around the handle, he made sure to add, “Don’t exhaust your wrist with all those notes, princess, you’re gonna need it later.”

And of course he smacked your ass when you walked out.

Thirty minutes after your class was over, Jungkook was happy to have his face buried between your thighs, eating you out on the backseat of his car. Suddenly, it seemed as if you weren’t so worried about being caught, because he never heard you moan so loud.

He made a mental note to do that more often.

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away.

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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cloudenthusiast2 · 3 years

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To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 3

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 2 Next: Part 4

Length: ~1000 words (??)

Trigger warnings: yelling, Scara being an asshole (so nothing new)

You stormed into your own house and threw your polearm far away from you. It landed on the other side of the room, loudly clattering on the ground.

You could hear Scaramouche's steps behind you but before he could've caught up to you, you flounced to the kitchen.

All you wanted to do is shut the door behind you but even then, something held you back from doing it. The great sense of justice in you didn't let you separate yourself from your lover.

It wanted to hear an explanation.

How actually desperate you were for one! Even though you were absolutely furious, you still really hoped he could clean himself in your eyes with some words. Yes, it would only take some words, one sentence or a half and...

'You runned of like a spoilt child.'

You bit your lips to lock them and keep yourself from screaming and yelling at him.

What were you even hoping for? It's Scaramouche, he obviously won't realise he hurt you.

With slow movements, you turned around to face him. You looked into his icy eyes and when you spoke, your voice was just as cold as his gaze.

'Dare to explain what happened?'

'Are you stupid? You saw it with your own eyes.'

'I meant your reaction' you hissed in fury.

His answer was to simply shrug his shoulders.

'I sent them away. You should be grateful I did that before you could've made the situation worse.'

'Say, Balladeer' you narrowed your eyes. 'What would you have done if it was the other way? If my people attacked yours?'

He didn't even hesitate.

'Kill them' he claimed in a way that said the answer should've been obvious for you.

You tried to remain calm as you asked him:

'And you don't see a problem here?'

He has been standing in the kitchen's door but now he walked inside, closer to you. His movements seemed kind of threatening but you didn't move back an inch.

You always turned a blind eye to the truth about him. It was time to face it.

He stopped a feet away from you. He didn't come closer to try and reassure you, he did it to make sure you heard everything he said well.

'Shall I be the one to break it to you?' He asked mockingly, his grin showing pity and despite at the same time. 'I think it's time you finally realise. That these people's lives mean nothing.'

'You can't actually mean that' you declared immediately.

Scaramouche laughed and his voice sent shivers down your spine - instead of making you smile like it used to do.

'You're so naive, it kills me! My dear, I knew you were attached to these people but I had no idea you actually take this thing so seriously.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

Your harsh, freezing cold tone wiped the smile off his face.

He rose his hands and tilted his hat back a little to take a good look at your face. The previous, icy look took over his expression once again as he spoke.

'These weak mortals are nothing but dust coming from dust.' He said bluntly and you knew he meant every single word that came out of his mouth. 'Their lives hold no meaning. They born, reproduce then die in a spam of some years. Disposable garbage.'

'So' your voice shook as you tried to speak after a long silence. 'This is... what I am to you? Replaceable, disposable garbage?'

'What?' You had every right to be shocked but now he seemed surprised as well. He shook his head, the bells on his clothing violently clinking. 'No, of course not. You're obviously different.'

'Why?'

Scaramouche blenched at this simple question and quietly stared for a minute.

You were deeply shook. So many emotions were fighting inside you but all you felt at that moment was deep, incredible sadness. You gulped to hold back your tears and repeated the question.

'Why... would I be any different?'

'Well... because you belong to me' he finally answered.

'Scaramouche, you're delusional!' You bursted out.

You started laughing. Because you couldn't believe you actually thought he was a good person. Because you were hysterical and made a stupid pun since he literally had a delusion himself.

'I'm only saying the truth!' He barked irately.

'You're lying!' You snapped so loudly that he unintentionally took a step back.

Scaramouche has never seen you like this. So mad. So done. You were patient with everyone and never raised your voice at him or anyone else.

'You're lying!' There was so much power and anger in your shout that it actually took his voice away. 'Mortals aren't insignificant just because beings exist that are more powerful than them! Not a single human's life is worthless! They have hopes and ambitions, they have the ability to change the world around them, just like you do! They feel, just like you... should do.'

You glared at him in fury, fervid fire burning in your eyes. You let go of the chair you have been holding onto and stepped closer to him.

He stood there without moving an inch, even when you put your face close so to his, he could feel your warm breath on his skin.

'I don't know what happened' you whispered quietly. 'But something is clearly wrong with you. Just what happened in Inazuma?'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.' Scaramouche finally moved. He grabbed your arm and pushed you further away from himself.

He thought that way he'd finally be able to breath freely but the weight on his chest didn't weigh less, even like this. It should've been a warning sign but the growing annoyance and anger inside his heart completely blinded him.

'I always felt like this' he stated, not caring about the impact his words caused. 'You knew it, don't try to deny the truth! And you know that I'm right! Face it!'

'You're not!' You screamed back at him. 'I will rather die before I agree anything you said!'

'Oh, you are going to die indeed if you keep believing in those ridiculous views of yours, don't worry.'

The exact moment these words left Scaramouche's lips, he deeply regretted saying them.

His heartbeat dropped as he saw your eyes widen.

There was a short silence.

Then you spoke.

'Get out' you whispered, your voice dying away. 'Get out of... my house.'

He looked at you once again. Opened his mouth then closed it.

You looked... broken. And he knew that he wouldn't be able to just replace the pieces that fell out because of him.

But the freezing cold that surrounded his heart suddenly started to melt away as his dismay slowly turned into anger.

Why should he feel bad again? It was you in the first place who had ridiculous views, it was you who got sensitive when all he did was to just tell you the truth! You were in the wrong here, not him!

'Leave' you repeated in a shaking but determined voice.

'Gladly' he nodded and the corners of his mouth curved up into a mocking, sarky smile. 'You're doing nothing but a burden holding me back anyway.'

'I said, leave!' You rose your voice one more time, trying your hardest not to cry in front of him. 'And don't ever come back again!'

Scaramouche laughed as he turned his back on you.

'Don't worry, I don't intend to. But don't say I didn't warn you!' He added as he waved goodbye. He stopped at the door for a moment and looked back at you one last time. 'One day you'll come to your senses and all of your ideals will be shattered. Looking forward to it.'

Your tears blurred your vision as you watched him walk out on the door he not so long ago stepped in as your lover.

And now that you were completely alone...

You could break down.

#cloudenthusiast #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche genshin #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin angst

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

Hiya~ Can I request quote 9) "Are you jealous?" for Lucifer in Obey Me! pretty please😊

This was so much fun to write! Luci know that he gets jealous but never wants to admit (his jealousy is worse than Mammon but you didn’t hear it from me 🤭) and sorry this got kinda long! Reader is gender neutral!

TW: suggestive/spicy themes, but nothing extremely graphic is mentioned

Prompt: “Are you jealous?” with Lucifer!

Lucifer is pissed.

He’s tapping his foot, and constantly checking his phone, waiting in his study for you to either walk in or call him. It’s late, and you’re still not home yet. He asked his brothers where exactly you are, and when Asmo told him that you’re out with the same “friend” you seem to blow all of them off for some time now, it just makes his mood turn even more sour, the scowl on his face deepening.

Now, Lucifer is not opposed to you making friends, as long as they aren’t a threat to you, his family, Lord Diavolo and the other exchange students. He understands that it’s very easy for you to connect with others, intentional or not, and he encourages it to a certain extent. However, this same “friend” that you’ve been increasingly been hanging out with for the past couple of weeks is starting to rub him the wrong way. Of course he’s met this “friend”, a classmate from your Seductive Speechcraft class (which just made him feel more unease with you being with them), and they seemed harmless enough (for a demon at least). Annoying, but harmless, at first.

Then began the constant need for your attention.

It started with the messages and calls under the guise of studying, the “innocent” demon begging you for help so that they can pass the class, and you being the naive nice human that you are of course obliged their request. Then it escalated from once a week, to three times a week, to almost staying after school every day just to “help”. He didn’t like that, as it’s him or his brothers that always walk you home every time, and this demon (who he found is Yuki, a demon who feeds off of sexual energy nonetheless), is messing with the routine, but he kept his cool and forced his brothers to do the same. He- They weren’t happy about this, but at the end of the day, you’re still coming home to him- them, and nothing is changing that. Not to mention how he made sure that someone had their eyes on you, whether it’s Mammon, Beel, or even himself (which he preferred).

Until Yuki decided that you need to hang out more, without him or his brothers.

That’s when he made it known of his dislike towards them, and dislike is putting it lightly.

You started to come home right at dinner, right before Beel devoured your plate. Mammon obviously voiced his displeasure aloud, with the others silently agreeing or making passing comments, but Lucifer would just shut the conversation down before anyone gets too upset, mainly for himself. He doesn’t want to lose control over something trivial like this, he can’t, he won’t- he’s well above some minuscule pest like them, and it would be a waste of time and energy to be worried about someone who is clearly below him!

He’s already irritated with Yuki integrating themselves into your everyday life, but he’s also trying to fight the increasing sinking feeling in his stomach the more you both bond.

The more you two become more than acquainted with one another, the more Lucifer tries to fight and hide this feeling. He buries himself in more paperwork, practically locks himself in his study, avoids anyone’s questions or concerns, and has become overall snappier than usual. He’s even snapped on Lord Diavolo, Lord Diavolo of all people!

(Granted Diavolo just thought it was overall stress, so he just simply laughed it off, but it didn’t go unnoticed by everyone, including you).

Now Lucifer is not stupid, he’s a very intelligent and powerful demon, and he doesn’t have to say it to be known. He made sure to do some research himself on Yuki, and didn’t put anything past them. You’re still surrounded by demons who wouldn’t hesitate to swallow you whole if allowed, and some are still desperate enough to try anything, so he’s very cautious with others being around you.

Which leads to now, you being out again with that demon at The Fall. Ever since, Lucifer retired to his study, constantly checking his phone for any updates. He refused to look distressed in front of everyone, and he knows that you’re smart and not so gullible, you’ll be okay, you had to be.

It’s well going on 1 in the morning, and you still haven’t answered any of his calls and texts? You swore that you would always answer him, so something had to happen. What exactly were you doing? What exactly were you two doing? We’re you okay? Are you safe? Has that Yuki tried anything with you?

Were you two doing anything now?

All of these questions swirling around in his head, his worry only adding on to his frustrations and building tension going through his body.

He already marched down to the door, coat forgotten and tie undone, flinging it open and scowl so deep that his fangs were bared. That Yuki better hope that you come home in one piece and spotless, or else he will make sure that they regret being alive-

He couldn’t wipe the surprised look on his face when he made eye contact with you, who was matching his own expression, hand frozen in the air mid knock.

“Lucifer? What are you still doing up? Are you about to go somewhere?” His expression quickly morphed to one of high distaste, the irritation displaying clearly on his face and his grip tightening on the door.

“I was still awake waiting for you. Have you forgotten how to use a phone, or are you too good for one now that you’re with your ‘friend’. And I remember specifically telling you to let me know when you leave, did I not?”

“Oh. Well...my phone kinda died, but I was already on the way home and-”

“By yourself?! Do you know how irresponsible that is? Do you forget that you’re a mere human?”

His irritation is rising to pure anger at this revelation. So that demon didn’t even have the decency to walk you home? To make sure that you arrive safe? And yet you still have the nerve to spend time with them and practically ignore him?!-

“Well- um, Lucifer? Lucifer!”

He snapped out of his murderous thoughts, and stepped aside to let you in.

“Come inside now, it’s late, and we have much to discuss.”

Your face scrunched up, showing confusion in how he’s acting. You know that’s he mad about your phone being dead, but he’s mad enough to leave the door barely hanging on its hinges? But you knew that arguing or pointing it out would just make things escalate, so you just stepped past and began to make your way up the stairs.

You can feel his eyes bore into the back of your head, but you just didn’t understand why. It’s about more than just your phone, it seemed like he’s been on edge for awhile now. You want to approach him, to ask him what’s wrong, to have him open up, but of course Lucifer being Lucifer, it was to no avail.

You racked your brain as he lead you to his room and began the “conversation” about how irresponsible you were being (really it’s just him getting whatever he needed off his chest and not you giving any input). Was it because of you going out so late? No, you didn’t drink, you and Yuki stayed together the whole night, and you let him know hours before. Was it Yuki? Now that you’re think about it, he has been frowning more it seemed like every time you brought up their name-

The pieces are starting to fit together now.

Oh my Diavolo.

You couldn’t stop the words escaping from your mouth before you could realize it.

“Lucifer, are you jealous?”

He choked in the middle of his sentence, and the room went quiet. You’re pretty sure that you can’t even hear him breathing, and his face just went entirely blank, no expression whatsoever.

Oh no, you broke him-

A gust of wind erupted, so strong that you had to shield your eyes for a second, and when you removed your arm, you were met with massive black wings and a very enraged demon.

“Excuse me?”

You stepped back until you stumbled onto the bed, as he stalks closer and closer to you.

“Care to repeat yourself?”

You knew better than to respond, and you felt frozen on the bed. You also know that Lucifer won’t attack or try to kill you, but it didn’t take away from the fact that he has moments where he’s very intimidating, one of those moments being now.

He’s looking down at you like a predator would to its captured prey, his ruby eyes glowing deviously in the dim room. He didn’t stop moving until he was on top of you, caging you in.

“Me? Jealous?” He scoffed. “I am the Avatar of Pride, the most powerful being in this house, yet you assume that I’m jealous of a demon that’s beneath me? You insult me, MC.”

He took hold of your chin, “Do you not remember what I said when we made the pact? You are mine and mine alone. Not anyone else’s, but mine.”

You felt like your nerves were getting the best of you, but you couldn’t force yourself to tear away as he leaned closer. He sealed his lips against yours in a heated kiss, one that you gladly accepted, not before uttering the words that made your heart race even faster.

“Maybe I should remind you of who you belong to, hm?”

—-

“Had a fun night, MC?”

“Yeah, it was”, you coughed in your hand. “Very nice, very fun. We had a great time.”

“Hmmmmm...you and Yuki or you and Lucifer?”

“Asmo!”

He giggled, “I’m just saying dear. I don’t sense the pent-up sexual frustration from Lucifer anymore, and he seems back to normal and even relaxed. Though I must say MC, I wish that you had spent the night in my bed instead.”

“Of course you do Asmo.”

“Besides, I would have covered your hickeys much better-”

“ASMO-”

“MC, are you ready?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear has never been more true than now, as Lucifer appeared behind you both, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yes, sorry.”

“Eh? Where are you two going?”

“Out.”

“And without me?!”

“Yes. Now, leave us be”. Lucifer moved his hand from your shoulder to your own hand, leading you both out the door. You two had plans for the day after the...eye-opening talk from last night, and he didn’t want to waste anymore time than he already had.

Bonus:

Asmo waited until he heard the door click, and then quickly whipped out his D.D.D. to text Yuki. He knew that the plan was going to be a success! A tense Lucifer made things more difficult for everyone, and he has too much pride to open his mouth so he decided to step in and team up with Yuki, who already knew about the whole ordeal.

Lucifer was already on the edge of snapping and letting his primal instincts take over anyway, so Asmo just gave him a little push in the right direction.

Thank Diavolo the plan worked, or else it would be hell for them both. He did owe Yuki some exposure on his socials in exchange for this and backing off of you now, but it was well worth the trouble.

#obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #obey me Lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #Lucifer x reader #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me!#om! lucifer #OM! Lucifer x reader #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 4 years

Text

I’m On Fire [Chapter 1]

Summary: With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

A/N: This is the first part in a series, I’ve written the first few chapters already so I’m hoping to update pretty regularly! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: None really for this chapter, cursing? Mean-ish Spencer

Word Count: 6.5k

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

I wasn’t at the BAU long before it started to feel like home. The team became my family, pure and simple.

Having been recruited by Hotch at only 22 I'd sort of fallen into the roll of the little sister to the team without really meaning to. It's not that I was naive, or particularly sheltered even. I know I'm good at my job, and I'd want to be, given how my life's revolved around it almost entirely. But the team seemed to adopt a protective mindset over me right off the bat.

When I first joined the FBI everything was terrifying. I worked so hard for my PhD, trying to get into the unit, but there's almost nothing that can actually prepare you for the real thing. Being out in action in the field, working the cases out in real time. Sometimes they had a smooth, easy conclusion followed by loud obnoxious drinks together. Then there were the others, the ones that kept me up for days after and felt as though they owned little pieces of my heart still.

It was JJ that helped the most on those horrible flights back on the jet. Noticing my anxious ticks and uneasy disposition after that first case that had ended badly. JJ had been through it all before, taking too many cases home with her. Seeing her son's little faces in the kids that we couldn't help. If I was the baby of the team JJ was the big sister, looking out for everyone.

Morgan on the other hand was the outrageously cool older brother, the one you just wanted to be. Early on he'd helped my weak self with the ruthless fitness regimen the FBI required, he offered to pull some strings and get the test written off. But I couldn't accept that, there was something in me that just wanted to impress Morgan, and honestly still does. Like somehow if he thought you were cool, then it became true. So I passed the exam, but getting up a flight of stairs was near impossible for a week after.

Emily was probably the fun aunt. The one that would sneak you booze at the family gathering, or take you to your first concert. Emily was actually the one who'd found me, digging around colleges for potential recruits she'd had me picked out for a while I later found out. Insisting that Hotch give me a shot. It was reassuring to know I had someone who would stick up for me from day one.

I was an tech analyst, among other things, sort of a counterpart for Garcia in the field. So it was no surprise to anyone when the two of us hit it off as though we'd known each other forever. We weren't the same by any means though. Penelope was bold, and bright, and confident beyond measure, where I've typically felt like more of a blend into the background type. I've always thought of myself that way, despite my achievements. I'd also always believed I was fairly inoffensive, no one I'd met had ever had a huge problem with me, 'till I got to the BAU that is.

Every rose has its thorn I suppose.

That thorn in my side was Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn't that Dr. Reid was a bad agent, or even a bad person. I hadn't actually met him before that first day in the conference room, but I'd known who he was for a long time. Before I came along he'd held the mantle of 'youngest ever recruit' in the unit, while I was studying I'd read any of his work I could get my hands on because of that fact.

I figured it must've been some sort of hazing when he looked me up and down that first day I was introduced, and then proceeded to blank me entirely for a full week. Up until I'd wrapped my first case.

The whole team went straight from the jet to the bar. Proceeding to get far too drunk. Spencer joined, which the rest of the team found unusual, and I probably should've taken as a sign of things to come.

That case went well, and everyone was in high spirits but Reid had a sour disposition, at least it seemed that way every time he looked at me. After a few too many drinks I went outside in an attempt to sober up in the cold air, unfortunately Reid must've snuck outside not long before.

"Ugh" was all he said when he first caught my silhouette approaching him. The night was unusually cold so it had been deserted outside the bar that evening. I wasn't really sure why it made me nervous to be alone with him like this, the two of us leaning back against the same small area of brick wall, looking out at the cold night.

"Nice to see you too doctor" was all I could muster, I was drunk enough that I let my sarcastic tone leap out, "you can relax, I'm just trying to get some fresh air, it's too stuffy in there, and loud. I'm not here to talk to you or anything."

"Well aren't you a sensitive thing" he responds in kind, at that point I wasn't really sure if it was a coincidence or if he'd been genuinely avoiding me, but things were starting to clear up.

"I'm sensitive, that's a fun take on things" I joke, taking a long sip of cold water from my glass.

"And what's that supposed to mean, newbie?" his emphasis on the last word all but confirms my suspicions.

"Fuck man, what's your problem with me? Is it because I'm new, or because I beat your stupid record?" I quip. hoping that at the very least it might coax him out of his shell. Dr. Spencer Reid getting angry at me could honestly be better than the nothing I'd been experiencing from him until now.

"What stupid record?" he sounds genuinely confused

"I'm the youngest BAU recruit now?" I didn't know why else he could be so sour. He'd never met me before last week, and since he'd ignored me that first day I'd done all I could not to step on his toes. So if he had a reason to hate me this much, it wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

He takes a few moments to respond, raising his eyebrows and considering the information. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

"That's funny." he says, his voice leveling out, "I didn't peg you as funny newbie" that word sets something off in me again. Something about it is dismissive, or belittling. Before I could fight back he starts to move, maneuvering around me and heading back inside. A little too tipsy to think of anything constructive to say, I just mutter "Fuck you Spencer."

He swings open the door, as he walks inside he just says "See you Monday, Newbie" without even looking at me.

And that was only the beginning.

----

"You know I'm just trying to make sure you get enough rest sweetheart. There's no need to get so defensive!" it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this call. Since joining the BAU a few years ago this was a standard call from my Mom. Equal parts well meaning and over-bearing, and generally asking far too many questions.

"I'm not getting defensive Mom, I get plenty of rest, my job is just very important to me and you know that." I knew she was right to be at least a little worried, this job was consuming, and in all honesty I wasn't sure how people like JJ were married and still here. It seemed like an impossible feat.

"Fine sweetie, how are your co-workers doing then? How's Penelope? Give her my love" she loved Penelope, I think she thought that Penelope tethered me to the normal world, and in a way she was right. She kept me sane, and fun, and made me eat pizza and do face masks once a week at least. Even when I didn't think I wanted to.

"Pen's great Mom, everyone's good. Well, the usual ones get on my nerves, but I'm fine." As I say it I glance across at Dr. Reid, the only person who's also in as early as I am most days. I'm not sure if he can hear me but he's tapping his pen so loud on his desk that it takes all of my energy not to walk across the bullpen and stab him with it.

"Y'know what Mom, I'm actually just after getting to work and it's a busy day so can I call you back later?" I chance, getting her off the phone is always an ordeal.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you go. But wait one last thing!"

I knew what was coming. It was always coming.

"Are you seeing anyone, Margot's been wondering too, just thought I'd check in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to scream down the line, I just sigh out the frustration instead.

"No Mom, believe it or not, I've made no progress on that front since you asked me all of 3 days ago."

"See you are being defensive!" she snaps

"I gotta go, bye Mom. Love you!" I say, hanging up quickly before dropping my head down into my arms on my desk, resting like that for a few moments in silence.

Hearing Garica chuckle behind my ear I perk up and spin around. She's holding a small paper cup of coffee and hands it to me. I look at it confused, "Sorry about the paper, I couldn't find your mug in the cabinet" she apologizes, looking over at Dr. Reid and rolling her eyes. Now I know he can hear me from his seat, he takes that moment to sip from my mug and place it gently back on his desk.

It hadn't taken long for him to start toying with me. It was always stupid childish things. Things I couldn't get genuinely annoyed at, that would give him far too much satisfaction, knowing he was getting to me in any real way. This was one trick he liked to play if he got into the office before me, he'd take my mug and make his coffee in it, just to spite me I guess.

"Why does he even do that, it's so stale" she said, just a little louder than normal to make sure he could hear. Garcia and Reid were still good friends and team-mates but she liked to stand up for me when she could. He liked to avoid me as much as possible so he'd usually go to Garcia before me if he needed help with something. Even when the two of us were out in the field together. Which was obnoxious but it was just another thing I'd gotten used to over time. And as long as it didn’t interfere with the case I just forced myself to let it go.

"I know it's such low grade bullying isn't it?" I shot back with a chuckle.

"So I'll take it that was Mommy dearest" Penelope gestures to my phone. She knew my Mom, and she knew about her general overbearing energy. I let out a groan thinking about the call again, and the calls that were to come.

"Isn't it always Mommy dearest?" I joke

"So she's still on your ass about the wedding then?" I'm sure Penelope was almost as sick of hearing about it as I was,

"Margot's getting married in like 4 months now, and every time Mom calls there’s just some new hometown loser she wants to set me up with Pen. It's fucking exhausting" I take a sip of the coffee she made me, savoring the bitter taste. She sits down on my desk for a moment, leaning in.

"Honey, did you ever think that if you got out there and found someone, she wouldn't be on your ass at all?" I don't want to think about that, about how she's completely right. All I can do is let out another small groan and lean back down onto my desk.

"Too early Pen" I say, it's muffled by the desk but she gets the message. Hopping up and heading to her own office as some more people start to arrive for the morning.

Leaving me alone to make a start on my paperwork that had built up throughout the week. Fridays were usually slow like this, giving me a little too much time to think. I couldn't shake the thought that my Mom and Penelope were actually right. Maybe I was a bit too invested in the job, and maybe that was a pretty big factor in why my last relationship imploded but I wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

----

After that the day crawls by, thankfully no cases pop up so the weekend might actually be free. Trying to make sure I clear up all of my paperwork takes a little longer than I'd hoped and leaves me alone in the bullpen. It seems like everyone's gone home by the time I've packed up and I'm ready to leave. Which wasn't as out of the ordinary as I'd like it to be really. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere to be on a Friday night.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive my phone started to ring, I could see my Mom's caller ID on the screen. If I just let it go I know she'll call back later, may as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath in anticipation before I answer.

"Hey what's up?" I answer, stepping inside the elevator as the doors ping open.

"Hi sweetie, I've got good news! Do you remember David? That lovely boy, he helped out your Father that summer in high school?" I know what's coming and rub my temple, trying to stifle the headache I know is coming. As I answer a hand slides between the elevator doors, popping them open again.

Dr. Fucking Reid walks in, and he looks about as happy to see me as I am to see him. I make eye contact and look away just as fast, willing him away with my mind. "Yes Mom, I remember him, why are you telling me this?" I already know the answer but I'm fed up, she still sounds excited when she responds.

"Well you won't believe it! I ran into him at the market this morning and I thought you'd like it if I passed on your phone number to him, maybe for the weddi-" it took all I had not to shout into the receiver, and maybe I would've had the elevator been empty.

"Mom! Jesus!" I have to reign myself in, but I have a bad idea, "You know what, I'm actually sorted. I've got a date lined up now" I'm not sure why I said it with no real plan in place. She sounds even more excited than I've ever heard her.

"Oh my, that's amazing sweetie! That was fast, I can't believe you found one since this morning, it's someone from work so?" she assumes, and I'm just not thinking fast enough to correct her.

"Mmhmm, yeah" I'll figure out the logistics later I rationalize.

"Oh! Is it that boy you're always on about, the one who teases you?" she asks, and her voice is full of joy, and it makes me feel horrible that I'm lying already, and that I'm going to let her down.

"Yup, that's the one, look Mom I gotta go, I'll talk to you later! Night" I blurt out so fast it has to be obvious I'm nervous.

I can hear a stifled chuckle behind me. Fuck. How loud is my phone speaker. Could he hear that. Surely not. But this elevator was completely silent. The doors open and I have to stop myself from running to my car at top speed. Instead I walk out just a little faster than normal, turning around to shoot him a small wave goodbye. And he's got this devious smirk on his face that makes my stomach turn.

Sitting into my car I pull out my phone to text Garcia immediately.

I'm on my way to yours right now. It's urgent.

——

Traffic's light so it takes maybe 10 minutes before I arrive at Garcia's place. My mind's racing and my body takes me there on autopilot. Why did I say any of that, why did I even answer the damn phone. Why did I wave goodbye to Spencer, I never usually did that. Maybe that's why he had that look on his face. Maybe he was just thinking of something funny that happened earlier and it had nothing to do with me at all. That was something he'd do to mess with me for sure.

How was I going to walk this back with my Mom, she was just gonna have more questions that I couldn't answer. Fuck.

Garcia buzzed me up and her door was open for me by the time I got up the stairs. This little purple apartment had become my second home. It was where I spent most of my evenings off, laughing on the same sofa I was collapsing face first into right now. Garcia nestles in beside me and runs her hand over my hair, "Hey sweet pea, what's happening? I don't want to sound too concerned but you're not giving me much to go off? Are you dying, is there drama? You're going to have to tell me what's so urgent before I burst a blood vessel?"

I let out a muffled, "is drahmuh" into the pillow, Garcia shakes my shoulders.

"Sit up babe, damn!" I have to heave myself out of the pillows, sitting upright on the sofa beside her, clutching one of the pillows in my arms.

"It's drama" I repeat,

"Well, out with it then, you know I'll take all the drama I can get! Spill, spill" she rushes me along. I'm already apprehensive, Reid's her coworker too, but if anyone would understand why this was such an issue it was gonna be her.

"Okay, I'm after doing something stupid and I think I really need your advice" I cringe already, thinking back to the elevator, throwing out my words faster, I continue the story, mostly trying to get it over with, "my Mom called again when I was on the way out tonight and she was trying to set me up with this guy, and Reid was there, and I got all flustered, and I told her I had a date already" I throw my head down into the pillow again.

"Wait why was Reid there?" she looks like she's trying to fit puzzle pieces together and she's getting nowhere, "And what's the drama?"

"Shit Garcia, it was in the elevator and it was all quiet, and maybe he heard the call, maybe he didn't but he had this fuckin' look on his stupid face" I can't shake the smug little smirk, it's burned inside my eyelids. Garcia's face falls in what looks like disappointment.

"Ugh Y/N! That's nothing chill out, why does it matter if he heard your call? I know you guys are all weird but none of that is any of his business anyway!" she shoo's her hand in the air, dismissing the whole situation.

"No Garcia, it is his business now" I have to close my eyes when I say it, I can't look at her "I told my Mom that he was my date, well, I didn't say his name or anything, she assumed it was someone from work and so I just agreed, and then she suggested that it was him and then I fucking panicked Pen, I fucked up so bad. What do I do?"

I finally opened my eyes to look up at Garcia. She was sitting in pure silence, pursing her lips in what seemed like contemplation. The puzzle pieces finally slotting together. It's as though a light bulb goes off behind her eyes and she bursts out in fits of laughter. Doubling over on herself before finally taking a few breaths to calm herself down. I'm honestly not sure why she finds the whole thing so funny, she know's how needlessly annoying he's made my life, she's seen it first hand and heard me talk about it over and over again in this very apartment over pizza.

"Garcia, this is not fucking funny! This is serious!" I try to calm her down, I need advice not whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I love you dearly. But this isn't funny, this is hilarious. It's like you're Sandra Bullock in some mid-90's rom com. I love it" I don't love it, in fact I hate it. I nearly snap at her but pull myself back.

"Pen, come on, help me out. What do I do with this, how do I fix it?" I plead.

She stops laughing and pulls out her phone, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm going to order us a pizza, and we're gonna sort this thing out together, sound good?" I just nod and collapse back into the sofa. I think I feel better now that I've gotten it out in the open.

----

Penelope makes us tea while we wait for the pizza, she keeps lemon & ginger in her cabinet for me, just like I keep mint for her. The warm mug and the steam calm me down. After a few minutes alone to think about it I start to figure it out a little better. I figure I can just lie to my Mom for a while, it might suck but I can pretend for a bit and then make up some excuse as to why he can't come closer to the time. Then I can just bring Garcia instead and everyone's happy. I'm about to float my plan to her there's a knock on her door. I was so caught up that I hadn't really noticed quite how starving I'd gotten. Leaping up of the sofa to grab the door.

I swing it open but it's not the pizza guy. Somehow it's the opposite of the pizza guy, my worst nightmare is on the other side of the door. He must notice my eyes blow completely wide. "Y/N!" he says, more of a statement than a question really, like he's telling himself that he's actually seeing me in the doorway. I'm not as gentle.

"What the fuck are you doing here Reid?!" I can't even disguise my anger. He seems a little flustered, like he's got absolutely no idea how to proceed.

"Um, uh, is Garcia here? I can, um, I can just come back later?" he swallows hard and shakes his head, before I can agree and tell him to get lost Penelope races to the door, pulling it wide open.

"Nope, that won't be necessary Doctor! Come on in, you're right on time sweetheart" she waves him in and he walks past me, his demeanor changing almost instantly. He's smug, like he's won whatever battle this was. And I hate it. Though he's still as confused as me despite the newfound attitude. Reid sits down on the sofa, right where I had been sitting. I bite my tongue and sit on the opposite end.

"Are you okay Garcia?" he asks with a genuine concern, "What's going on, what was the emergency?". He's not stupid, he knows she's not in danger now that he's here. But he wants answers. I don't know that I've ever seen him this confrontational with anyone, well anyone but me. The entire time I’m staring her down as she sits in the armchair opposite the two of us. My keys are in my pocket and my car's right outside. I could just jump up and make a break for it. Escape.

"You know what Doc, you won't believe it but I'm not actually the one with the emergency" she takes a beat, and I'm starting to think that I might understand why people murder other people after all these years, "Y/N has something urgent she needs to talk to you about" she's silent for another moment, and she almost looks giddy, "Actually Spencer, you might already know a little something about the matter already, now that I think about it" she smirks, and it's pure joy.

My keys are in my hand ready to bolt when the doorbell chimes again. "Oh, that'll actually be the pizza this time, if you two will excuse me" she hops up out of the armchair and races to the door, leaving the two of us alone in a horrible silence. The tension is almost too much, I want to speak but I really have no idea what to say, or how to even start saying it. But he starts.

"Y/N what's going on, I feel like I'm out of the loop here? What am I missing?" he asks, and there's something uncharacteristically genuine about the way he says it, but he can't turn to look at me as he speaks. I almost want to let my guard down and just have a conversation but I can’t force myself to do it. "Shut up Reid." is all I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

He turns sharply on the sofa to face me. "Hey Y/N. Believe it or not I'm about as happy as you with whatever kind of Parent Trap situation Garcia's got going on here. But from what I'm picking up on you've got a problem and I'm supposed to be able to help with it. So do you want to tell me what's going on or not? I can just go?" I can see that there's an anger bubbling right below the surface, threatening to burst. I know I shouldn't but I let him stew in silence for a little too long and he jumps up off the sofa.

"Y'know what, typical" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it, "this is all about you." he throws his bag over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the door. Something in me just snaps.

"All about me?! Are you fucking kidding? I've been tip-toeing around you for years, ever since I joined this damn unit!" I shout as Garcia comes back into the room, pizza box and plates in her hands.

"So, who's hungry?" Garcia asks, trying to break the tension, or pretending there's no tension at all. Reid shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his temple before he speaks again, "Actually I was just gonna head out" he gestures to the door, "I'm clearly not wanted here so I'm gonna leave you guys to it." Spencer makes a move to leave but Garcia grabs the strap of his shoulder bag, yanking him back ever so slightly before he really has the chance to escape.

"You are going absolutely nowhere kid" She points back to the sofa, "get back there" she glances to me, staring with far too much intensity. "You too, sit." Her voice is more stern than I've ever heard it, even while we were on a case. I can't help but obey her command and I sit back down on the sofa in silence. Followed by Reid, clearly processing the same uneasy feeling of a serious Penelope.

She sits opposite the two of us again. "Y/N, Spencer, I love the two of you with all of my heart, albeit separately, and I would die for either one of you. But you've got to chill the hell out!" she says it like she's had it bottled up forever. The tension that releases from her as she says it looks euphoric.

She opens up the pizza box and lays it on the coffee table and takes out a slice for herself. Taking a bite she leaves the two of us in stunned silence. Once she finishes the mouthful she turns to me specifically, "Y/N you tell him, or I will." dead serious. And the feeling in my belly is like I've just fallen down an elevator shaft.

My stomach is in knots as I turn to Spencer on the sofa next to me. His face is puzzled and I think I might be able to make out pure terror in his expression. I don't know that I've ever been looked at like this before and my stomach screws up tighter. I have to take a deep breath and I can't believe I'm about to say it. "Fuck it" I have to take another breath almost immediately so I just have to force the rest out, "I don't know if you heard the call I was on while we were in the elevator earlier?" I look up to gauge his reaction and I can see his face relax, and worse than that, one corner of his mouth lifts into a sort of smile. It's a look of pure smug satisfaction and I think I might scream. I have to close my eyes because I really don't think I can look at that face as I say the next part.

"My sister is getting married in a few months and my Mom's been on my ass to find a date for the wedding and she keeps trying to set me up with these losers, so I fucking panicked, and I told her you were my date." by the time the sentence is out my eyes have screwed up so tight it feels like I have to pry them open.

He sits in silence for too long. Thinking, maybe?

"So I'm the boy who teases you then?" he grins. So he did hear. And he did laugh. He looks far too self satisfied. Now he knows he's right. He knows I've talked to my Mom about him, that he's gotten in my head. I can tell from his smile that he's savoring the moment. Mostly because I can't slap the smug smile off his face I drop my head into my hands. In an effort to disappear I guess.

"So," he says, taking a moment, "is that all you wanted to say then?" he asks, lighthearted and obnoxious, back to his usual self. I snap back to reality, shooting my head back up.

"What do you mean is that all?" I throw back genuinely shocked,

"Is that all you had to say Y/N? Can I go now? It's a long bus ride home y'know" he smirks but makes no effort to move. He can't possibly be making me do this.

"Well no, obviously!" I stutter, "I mean, are you, will you, uh?" I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He leans in on the sofa looking directly at me, refusing to break eye contact.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me Y/N?" I just want to smack that fucking look off his face,

"Fuck you Spencer Reid" I almost whisper under my breath, but Garcia snaps me back to reality.

"Hey!" she looks at me, stern again, "Ask him." it's not a question, or a suggestion, it's a command.

"Fine okay" I scrunch my eyes up again, "Will you come to my sisters wedding with me as my fake boyfriend?" I curl up into myself as I say it, I can almost feel the bile rising up from my stomach. Like I'm having a biological reaction to the whole thing.

Reid crosses his arms and sinks back on the sofa, like he's performing the act of thinking. He's considering my offer to make me squirm.

When he finally speaks he says "Well I would Y/N, but I really fail to see what's in it for me" he's after getting cocky now.

Garcia pipes up, excited, "Oh, Oh! I know! I have an idea!" she interjects, "Spencer remember how a while ago, back after your apartment flooded you were all all worried about your antique books and prints and stuff?" he nods, "Well Y/N could digitize the collection for you as a back up? I know you're a technophobe? C'mon Y/N, you know you could do that no sweat, and it would take you a lifetime alone Spencer?" I really don't want to admit it but she's right. Even I knew Reid was adverse to any technology that wasn't vital, but it was your specialty. And maybe that was a good trade off, a job like that would be near impossible for him to pull off without help. I take a glance over at Reid and he seems to have had the same train of thought as me. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and relaxes his posture.

"Fine, I guess that's a fair trade. I'm in." he resigns and I almost can't believe it. I'm barely processing the whole conversation as he sticks his hand out to me, I'm confused for a second before I grab it and shake it firmly. Condemning myself to whatever's about to happen. And it's not the time to be thinking about it but maybe this is the first time Spencer and I have ever touched? But I shove that thought away.

Garcia's positively beaming and she's not even trying to hide it. "Now it's like you're both in a Sandra Bullock movie, oh, but you're Hugh Grant maybe?" she points to Reid.

"Don't push it" I shoot in her direction, taking a slice of pizza, now that my anxiety stomach has sort of passed.

Once the pizza's been eaten in near completely awkward silence Spencer stands up off the sofa. His unsure demeanor has returned and he looks nervous. "I actually should get going this time" he says but Garcia pipes up to protest,

"No, it's not even late!"

"It takes me a while to get back home, thank you though Pen. For... this?" he gestures to the whole living room, "Night" he waves. He's almost made it to the door before I stand up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what comes over me, maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's guilt, or maybe I'm just exhausted.

"Wait Spencer. Let me give you a ride home?" I ask and it's like it's not even me saying it .

"Thanks, but I think I can make it home just fine" he dismisses, and there’s an antagonizing tone in his voice that snaps me right back to our usual rapport.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, fuck! Just let me do something nice!" I snap, and he throws his arms up in surrender.

"Fine alright, if it'll make you feel better"

"Fuck you Reid" I mutter under my breath and I sort of hope that he does hear me really. If he's gonna be hostile about this I can be too. I give Garcia a hug goodbye but I'm going to scold her for this whole thing later.

----

I lead the way outside and climb into my car, Spencer hops into the passenger seat and it feels as strange as always to be alone with him. Especially because it's not an accident, and it's not in work. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He seems like he's unwilling to break the silence, so I just get it over with.

"Where the hell do you live man? I'm gonna need directions." I say, as deadpan as I can muster, which probably isn't all that intimidating.

"Sorry, yeah, so you're gonna want to turn on the ignition" he teases. I definitely wasn't intimidating enough.

"Don't push it" I say, turning to give him a cruel stare, he just reacts with a smirk, that same one from the elevator earlier.

"Oh, I'm pushing it?" he asks, feigning disbelief

"I'll kick you out of this damn car" is all I can think to say. He barely responds, he just lets out a soft chuckle. I want to ask 'what's so funny' but he speaks before I can get the words out.

"I can't believe you talk to your Mom about me" he continues to laugh. That's enough.

"You know what Reid, of course I have! I work with actual murderers on a daily basis and somehow you've been the only real source of friction in my life since I joined the BAU!" He stops giggling a little, but not entirely, he looks like he's making an effort to contain himself.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never knew I got to you like that" he still finds the whole thing amusing, but I sure as hell don't.

"Directions, now" I demand, looking straight out the front windshield.

"Fine, keep going straight on this road for a while and I'll tell you when to turn" he says, finally playing nice.

The two of us drive silently for most of the journey, the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually we arrive outside his building, and it's nicer than I thought it would be. But I have no idea what I was really basing that on. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that Dr. Reid lived in an actual home, I had pictured him sleeping upside down in a cave maybe, or in a cryogenic chamber with all the other life-like genius robots.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "When is this wedding?"

"4 months from now, in and around" I respond, matter of factly. Spencer nods, taking it in.

"Alright, so I've got 4 months, in and around, to learn enough to convincingly pass as your loving boyfriend. Doesn't sound so difficult." he jokes, his tone harsh and sarcastic.

"Look Spencer, I know this is insane and honestly kind of stupid. But in all seriousness, you can back out right now if you're not on board with whatever this is. I'm telling you this is the last exit ramp." I try to say it with sincerity, giving him a genuine out if he's not comfortable with the weird set-up that Penelope pulled on us both. He thinks on it for a moment and shakes his head.

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asks, and I really thought he was going to back out. So I don't have an actual answer.

"Well, I uh, I haven't really given a plan much thought. How about I come over and start working on some of the stuff you want digitized like Garcia mentioned and I can use the time to give you the footnotes on my life?" I suggest, at least that would make it easier to knock things out all at once. Rather than having to spend even more of my free time with Reid than necessary. He looks content with the improvised plan.

"Alright, sounds good." he undoes his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out of the car before turning back to me, "Are you coming inside or what?"

— —

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stillebesat · 3 years

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An Unconventional Defeat

Sanders Sides: Patton, Virgil Blurb: Patton knew that heroes started out young, far younger than villains ever did. But this young? Inspiration: From the Anon prompt: “I can take care of myself just fine.” with Virgil. Fic Type: Superhero!AU, Villain!Patton, Hero!Virgil Overall Fic Warnings: Near Death Experiences, Death Talk, Injuries, Hospitals Taglist in Reblogs:

He’s fourteen.

Patton stared down at the prone form of his nemesis, Onyx, in the darkened hospital room, mind racing.

He knew that heroes started out young, far younger than villains ever did. But this young?

Sure, that no good empathy that the heart twinged with seemed to chime all stronger for the children. For those naive fools who were still optimistic about life and wanted to believe that good would always win out in the end. That being good was the best way to live your life. That you could change the world for the better.

Patton had been a fool like that. Once.

He’d wanted to be a teacher. Once. Be an example to the rising generation. Once.

And then he’d had his eyes forcibly opened in college to just how cruel and heartless the world actually was. Goodness only got trampled. Squashed. Taken advantage of. Goodness only got used until it wasn’t useful anymore and then got dumped like so much trash. If one wanted to change the world permanently. One couldn’t do so by being good.

Kids though?

The poor fools didn’t realize that yet. That being good wasn’t well...good. For anyone. Hero work? Pointless. Especially with how active Patton was in the city.

Hero work didn’t put food on the table. Hero work didn’t pay the bills. It was a thankless never ending job.

A job that landed a fourteen year old in the hospital with head trauma, a broken leg, arm, fractured ribs, and multiple puncture wounds in the shoulders and abdomen that had only avoided killing the kid by sheer dumb luck.

A fourteen year old that Patton had been fighting for a good three years now, not that he’d known that until nine hours ago.

Onyx had always snarked at him in a deep distorted voice, had always been covered by an ever shifting melee of shadows that never showed just who was manipulating the darkness around him.

He growled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. Eleven. The kid had been freaking eleven when he’d first shown up to stop Patton from razing the police department to the ground.

No wonder Onyx had been so ferocious in defending the place. He’d still been of an age to see the cops as fellow heroes. The good guys. He hadn’t yet discovered their darker side. Just how much like school ground bullies most of them could be to the weak.

Patton clenched his hands, conscious of the frost coating his fingertips, of the room getting noticeably colder. “You’re an idiot.” He told the sleeping hero in a low voice, tensing as the shadows sluggishly stirred at the sound of his voice. “Ruining everything.”

He’d been trying to take down Onyx for ages. Perfecting the best way to use his ice bolts to freeze those shadows of his once and for all. It had been the best moment of his life seeing the hulking figure finally stagger when his ice had successfully pierced through the darkness and not fly out the other end. To know that they had stuck. To see those dark wisps vanish like so much smoke as the hero plummeted from the sky. To have a crater form from the impact that left a dust cloud floating in the air with no hint whatsoever of his shadows preparing to strike back.

It had been his greatest moment of triumph. The final defeat of his main nemesis.

An icy javelin had already formed in his hands, aimed for Onyx’s heart before Patton’s feet had even hit the ground.

But instead of the square jawed overly muscled hero he’d expected to finally see underneath that murky shadow disguise...he’d found a freaking child laying there, bleeding, broken, and unconscious.

One Virgil Hawkins. Fourteen years old. Orphan. Parents dead since he was nine. Grandmother dead since he was eleven though apparently no one else had realized that little tidbit yet besides Patton because he’d actually tried to find the woman last night after he’d rushed the boy to the hospital for emergency surgery only to discover the little urn with her name on it on the mantle of the fireplace in her home.

It was one thing to kill a Hero. And Patton...well he’d done in his fair share of heroes over the last decade. But killing a child? His heart might be cold. Frozen even. But as much as he itched to end Onyx the hero permanently...ending Virgil the child was an entirely different matter.

Not that anyone would know. Not that anyone would care if Virgil vanished the same evening Onyx died. He could freeze the kid’s heart here and now and not even the staff supposedly watching the boy would think much of it, injured as he was.

Patton frowned, breath misting in front of him as he held out an ice coated hand over the child, an icicle easily forming in his fist.

It would be so easy.

Who would care about the disappearance of a single boy? One who was practically a ghost in his civilian life. Certainly not the news. Certainly not the cops the kid had risked his life to defend. A kid only surviving as it were because he’d been clever enough to keep his grandma’s social security checks coming to the house as a source of income.

No one would notice if he just...vanished. Not even the school the kid attended would. Not when they couldn’t even tell him if he’d shown up yesterday for class.

No concerned teacher. No concerned counselor. No friends to worry about him suddenly vanishing. Not even the staff here in the hospital cared enough to keep more than a cursory eye on their John Doe as the police attempted to track down the boy’s nonexistent family.

Virgil had no one.

Patton let the icicle dissolve back into his skin, his hand lightly resting on the boy’s warm forehead, fingers lightly brushing the stitches there.

No one to pay the hospital bills. No one to look after him once he was released. No one to ensure that he had food, clothes and shelter. No one to stop him from being a fu-freaking idiot and going out to attack a villain old enough to be his Father.

Patton shuddered, pulling his hand back. Crofters forbid that. Teenagers were the worst. Onyx only proved that tenfold with how easily he’d wound up Patton in their fights. To have one living in his own home? With their constant mood swings, inability to do chores, and dependence on social media? Ha. No.

A groan from the bed drew him from his thoughts right as the shadows around the bed surged at him, latching onto his arm and jerking him forward with a startled yelp.

“Cold.” A hoarse voice whispered as pale fingers shakily rose from under the blanket, twisting to catch Patton’s wrist as the shadows pulled him within reach. Onyx’s eyelids fluttered as he placed Patton’s hand on his forehead. “Cold.”

Was he insane?! Patton growled, the temperature in the room dropping another ten degrees as he struggled against Onyx’s shadow grip. “Let. Go!”

The hero had the gall to smirk, dark eyes unfocused as he opened them fully, the shadows pulsing around them. “No way, Icy.” He whispered. “You cold. Feels good. You stay.”

WHAT?! He wasn’t an icepack! “I’ll freeze your burning head off! LET GO, you idiot!” He allowed a thin layer of ice to form under his hand to prove his point. It was bad enough that Onyx could match him throw for throw on a good day, it was worse knowing that a fu--freaking half-drugged teenager could still hold him with minimal effort.

Virgil closed his eyes, stupid smile growing wider. “Rubber. Glue. Back to you.”

Patton blinked. “Huh?” What was that supposed to mean?! This was why he hated teenagers. They didn’t make a lick of sense whenever they spoke.

“You’re the idiot here.” Virgil dropped his hand, the shadows releasing their grip. “Coming in uniform? To a hospital? To see me? For shame.”

Patton scoffed, taking a step back. He wasn’t some first year amateur to walk in the front door dressed like this. “Like I care if anyone sees me, kid.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he couldn’t afford to let anyone see him actually caring about anyone’s welfare, especially some ‘random’ kid found on the street after the big fight with Onyx, he would have blasted the front doors off their hinges and made a grand entrance instead of manipulating the ice of his clothes to resemble simple civilian attire before sauntering inside, no questions asked. After all, no one ever looked twice at some guy walking around in a black shirt and blue jeans, not even in a hospital.

Though. He flexed his fingers. It wasn’t like it was outside his wheelhouse to freeze people to death if they got in his way.

Onyx frowned, the shadows pulsing as he opened his eyes again, making eye contact. “No...you wouldn’t would you….why are you here--No.” The darkness gathered underneath him, carefully carefully pushing the kid upright in the hospital bed. He hissed, uninjured arm moving to wrap around his stomach. “Why am I here and not dead, Icy?”

Patton lifted his chin, glaring at the hero. “Did you want to be dead?” He asked, hefting a javelin of ice in his hand.

The teenager had the gall to roll his eyes, though Patton didn’t miss how the shadows surged around him in a protective shield. “Missed your chance, buddy. Don’t tell me your frozen heart actually thawed a little during our fight.”

“No.” Patton jabbed at the shadows, not at all surprised when they easily shattered his weapon with a quick twist.

So the kid wasn’t as out of it as his dilated eyes made it seem. Good to know.

“So I’m alive then….why?”

Why did it matter? “You’re fourteen.”

Virgil scoffed, slowly moving the arm that was in a cast so it too rested against his stomach. “So? You’ve killed kids before.”

Patton stiffened, ice flashing from his feet to cover the floor like a mini ice rink. Did the boy honestly not care about his own life?! “You shouldn’t have been fighting me in the first place, Onyx! You’re a kid. A Fu-FREAKING KID. Your biggest worry should be passing some stupid Math test! Making friends in school. Not squaring up against the worst villain the city has ever seen!” A villain that always, always killed his nemeses no matter what.

Virgil huffed, spreading his arms, the shadows twisting around them. “Last time I checked, this kid could wipe your ass into the dirt without breaking a sweat. I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much.”

“But you shouldn’t HAVE to.” This wasn’t some stupid dystopian novel. No normal eleven year old should have such a stupidly high Chosen One complex.

“And who’s fault is it that I have to, Icemas?” Virgil’s eyes practically glittered like obsidian shards as the shadows lifted him off the bed, turning him to face Patton properly, the machines squeaking in protest as the various tubes connecting them to the hero shifted out of alignment. “No one else was stepping up. No one else would face you.”

“That’s the point!” Patton hissed, shooting a ray of ice to the door, crystals covering the window there and locking it in place so no one else would be able to investigate the alarms going off, before stepping forward to jab a finger at the boy’s chest, though he was careful to not actually touch the wounds there or send any ice bolts at him. “I’m showing everyone that being a hero is a useless archaic practice! No one should have to risk their life day in and day out for complete strangers who will never appreciate your sacrifice! If you had died tonight, Virgil, who would have cared?! The media? Ha.” He shook his head, gesturing to the blank TV screen in the corner as the shadows pulled back to quiver behind the young hero. “They’d mourn you for maybe a week tops before moving onto the next sensational story, the next stupid hero trying to make a difference. Maybe, maybe they will name some shiny new building after you, to remember you by, but then what? NOTHING. You’d be DEAD before you could ever drive and it would have all been for naught!”

Virgil frowned, shadows lowering him so he was sitting on the bed. “...You know my name?”

Patton stiffened. That’s what the kid was worried about? Him figuring out his civilian identity instead of nearly dying?! That was so messed up. “Someone had to try and track down your family, kid. The idiots here weren’t gonna do it.”

The hero had the gall to grin, though Patton didn’t miss how his fingers clenched the sheets. “Aww, well isn’t that sweet of you, Popsicle. How did that go?” He tilted his head to the iced over door where distant voices could be heard as the handle rattled. “Good old mom and dad waiting outside to see me? To check in on how their ickle Virgikins is doing?”

Teenagers. He hated them. “You know they aren’t. You have no one.”

Something flickered in the boy’s eyes. “Oh! Then let me guess.” He rested his chin on his uninjured hand. “You let the staff know I’m on my own? Do I get the oh so fun opportunity to experience our stellar A+ foster care system now?”

Patton rolled his eyes, shooting another bolt of ice at the door for good measure. “Please. They still think you’re a John Doe.” The lazy bums were waiting for him to wake up first. Hoping that Virgil would tell them who he was before trying to track down his identity or family.

“Excellent.” Virgil gave the door an appraising look. “Think they’ll believe amnesia?”

Patton blinked. “....Do you not feel the stitches holding your head together?” Or the baseball sized lump on the back of his skull from hitting the pavement?

The hero shrugged. “Honestly?” The shadows pulsed around him. “It’s all kinda fuzzy agony currently. Can’t differentiate what parts of me hurt and what doesn’t.”

How was this kid even awake?! Patton stepped forward, pushing the boy back down flat on the bed. “Then REST before you hurt yourself further, idiot.”

“Aw, love you too, Popsicles.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT.” He would never be a fu-freaking Father to anyone.

“Or what?” Virgil relaxed against the pillows, even as his hand twisted to catch Patton’s wrist again. “You’ll kill me?”

If he wanted to do that the kid would be dead already. Patton jerked free, another ice spear forming in his hand, pointed to the boy’s throat. “No.”

“Aw. You scared to?”

“NO. I’m not killing a KID. Our fights are done with, Virgil. No more Onyx. He’s DEAD.”

The boy scoffed, pushing the spear to the side. “Last I checked, Icy,” The shadows surged over him in a swirling mass until the familiar shadowy form of Onyx stared back from the bed. “We’re the same person.” His voice echoed. “And I’m still alive and kicking.”

Ooooohoooho. Patton could feel his eye twitching as ice crept up the walls and window. If it were just Onyx he’d take great pleasure in killing the hero here and now. He itched to do so. But he couldn’t. Not with knowing that Virgil the child hid underneath the darkness. “I won’t fight you, kid.”

The shadows pulled back, revealing Virgil looking far paler than before, his face glittering with sweat. “Coward.”

“Idiot.” The kid needed to see a shrink. No normal fourteen year old would be this stubborn about wanting to constantly go up against him and face death by his hand!

“I know you are but what am I?”

The window shattered, sending frost covered glass glittering to the floor. “Hopefully grounded by the fool that ends up taking you in.” He got out through gritted teeth, ice particles shimmering in the air, ready to defend as the shadows around Onyx sprung up like a series of blackened tentacles writhing behind him.

He pitied whoever ended up with this troubled teen in their home…though...maybe he could arrange for the kid to be shipped across the country to live far far away from here. Getting out of this place could set him straight. Snap him out of this stupid hero phase he was in.

Virgil threw his head back, laughter ringing throughout the room as banging sounded from the door, the ice blockade cracking under the strain.

Judging by the way the ice was shearing off, someone with heat abilities had finally shown up.

Virgil shook his head, still grinning, though his eyes held no laughter as the shadow tentacles sharpened into jagged points, all aimed at Patton’s chest. “Oh that’s rich. Me, grounded? Like a normy would be able to stop me from coming after you the next time you decide to wreck the city.” He pushed himself up onto one elbow, jabbing his cast at Patton, the shadows quivering behind him like a pack of hunting dogs waiting to be unleashed as the temperature in the room dropped even further. “Face it, Popsicle. If you’re not gonna kill me then you’re stuck with me being your nemesis. If you want me to stop being the hero and keep me alive, then you have to stop being the villain. And we both know you’re not gonna do that. Your precious plan is too important to just give it up for my sake.”

And that was the crux of the matter wasn’t it? Patton snarled, raising his hands, the ice particles in the air morphing into a slew of arrows all directed towards the boy. He didn’t want to kill Virgil. But he couldn’t give up his plan. Give up being the villain. Not after a decade of fighting to get all those idealistic fools to see what a farce being a hero was. He was so close to winning. So close. “Fine.” He surged forward, grabbing the boy by the throat, ice arrows darting about to block the shadow tentacles of the kid’s from interfering. “You value my plan more than your pathetic life? Then you should--”

BANG.

The door behind them shattered, sending a heat wave full of shrapnel blasting into the room.

IDIOTS.

Patton whirled, flinging a wall of ice towards the figures in the doorway in an attempt to block the worst of the heat from outright killing Virgil then and there. IDIOTS! Did they not care at all that an already injured kid was in the ro---

A half melted silver door knob burst through the resulting steam before Patton could react to it, clocking him between the eyes with enough force to knock him backwards, his world vanishing into cold, silent darkness as the hospital floor rushed up to meet him.

#An Unconventional Defeat #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Morality #Anxiety #Superhero!AU #Villain!Patton #Hero!Virgil #Near Death Experiences tw #Death Talk tw #Injuries tw #Hospital tw

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patchofsunlight · 4 years

Text

Warmth | Zuko x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Avatar!Reader AU | Zuko has made many mistakes and holds uncountable regrets, but maybe Y/N can still love him back. Spoiler: she does.

REQUEST (by anon): “Could you do a zuko with maybe a f! avatar? Him falling in love with her like how they joked in ember island play. And him being tormented when she 'dies' in cross roads and them having some tender moment of confessing either in the western temple or ember island? maybe the play has the kiss and he confesses idk”

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: Y/N is the Avatar, so Aang doesn’t exist. kissing, there might be swear words but I don’t really remember, bad editing. lots of mutual pining and some angst. I don’t know if I did this request justice but I really tried?

OBSERVATIONS: there’s a bit of Sokka x Reader bc I’m a weak woman but in the end he’s the main Zuko and Y/N shipper. not having Aang seriously hurt me. I wrote most of the Zuko sad rant in the beginning listening to Words Fail by Ben Platt and I think it would be interesting if you guys listened to that while reading? idk

I hope you all like it!!! feedback is always appreciated, so keep that in mind and thank you very much for reading!!

There was a hole inside his chest that Zuko simply couldn’t get rid of. It hurt him to his core, bringing pained sobs to the edge of his throat and slowly dismantling his soul.

He always thought getting rid of Y/N would quench his anger, rebuild his honor and complete his destiny. Now, his father accepted him again, Mai was his girlfriend, and Azula treated him like a true brother, in her own deranged ways. The Fire Nation considered him a hero, the man who killed the Avatar.

Then why did it trouble him so much? Why did he wake up every night in a cold sweat, with tears stinging his eyes? Why did he have the same nightmare over and over where he was the one responsible for her death, hitting her with lightning and watching as the light inside her disappeared, leaving behind only her idle body and Katara’s desperate cries? Why couldn’t he be satisfied? He had fulfilled his fate. He had done what he was meant to do, sided with his people, and fought against his greatest enemy. Why wasn’t he happy? Why couldn’t he ever be happy?

Back in Ba Sing Se, he saw her at the Jasmine Dragon more than once. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she first entered the teashop, and he was pretty sure she had recognized him, but Y/N managed to send a polite smile in his direction and sit down, greeting “Mushi” with joy. When Zuko served her tea, she asked him what his name was as if she didn’t know. She didn’t confront nor attack him — she simply let him live his new life and went on living hers. It felt like she had washed off his sins, erased the bloodstains he carried in his soul and hands. Y/N freed him of his past and he had thrown it all away.

It was the right thing to do, he had told himself day after day after day. Except it wasn’t, and now Iroh refused to talk to him and the Avatar was probably dead and, in the case she wasn’t, she would never forgive him. She wouldn’t let him be free of himself again and he would never get redemption for his mistakes.

He wished he could go back in time and fight alongside Y/N in that crystal cave, wished he could live up to the trust Katara offered him before they were saved, wished he could have stopped Azula from throwing that lightning bolt. He wished he could do things in the right way, yet he couldn’t. Zuko tried so hard to regain his so-called honor and to bring his father pride but his only real achievement was engulfing himself in guilt and regret, being aware that powerful and forgiving Y/N could be dead because of his lack of dignity and character — this couldn’t be honor. Violence, betrayal, death, and hurt couldn’t be honor, and he wasn’t sure he wanted his father’s pride if it meant feeling like this, like he was no good, like he was not worthy of love or praise or admiration.

Zuko had spent a great part of his life hating himself, but nothing compared to the hate he felt every night after waking up from another crushing nightmare. How dared he make this about himself and his feelings of guilt when the Avatar could be dead? How dared he worry about the Fire Lord’s pride when the world’s last hope was gone? How dared he indulge in self-pity after all he had done? He didn’t deserve pity, didn’t deserve help, he only deserved to wallow in his own pain and die. But that wouldn’t fix anything, neither would it bring Y/N back — he had to act, and he had to do it fast.

Going after Team Avatar was not difficult. He thought he would feel complicated like he had when first betraying Y/N’s trust, thought it would hurt like coming back to the Fire Nation did. Thankfully, leaving only caused a new type of satisfaction to bloom inside his chest, giving him the sensation he was finally walking through the right path. Hope seemed to pour out of every pore in his body and he could somehow think of better, future days when he would have done enough to make up for his mistakes, days when he didn’t feel the urge to scream every time he looked at a mirror. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to despise himself like he currently did, maybe things would be okay and he would be truly happy, if that was even something he had the capability to do.

But then they didn’t want him. He left everything behind, he charged every inch of his hope with the idea of joining the Avatar, and they didn’t want him. Why would they? Why would they, after everything he had done? How could he have even considered they would accept him, that she would trust him again? Of course they didn’t want him. No one did and no one ever would and that was entirely his fault — it was his fault that he was a bad person, took the wrong decisions, and caused pain and destruction. It was his fault he never did the right thing and he should’ve known he would be rejected again, for being rejected was just what he deserved.

But it still hurt. Oh, Spirits, it hurt. She couldn’t even look at him, even after he helped them defeat Combustion Man and was finally accepted in the group. Sadly, it made Zuko realize that, no matter where he stood, he would never be a part of their team, and Y/N would never trust him entirely. For some reason, that was more upsetting than their rejection. He wanted to impress her, wanted her to like him, and she never would.

“Y/N? Can I—can I come in?”

The Avatar looked up from the map she was currently analysing on her bed, studying his figure carefully before nodding with hesitance, “yes. Do you need something?”

He sighed deeply and walked towards her, feeling his heart crack when she brought her legs closer to her body and away from him the moment he sat on the edge of the bed, “I—I just wanted to talk to you about, well, you know, everything.”

Her expression hardened and she averted her eyes back to the map, “we have nothing to talk about, Zuko. You can go back to your room.”

The Fire Nation Prince swallowed nervously, “Y/N, please. I’m so, so sorry. I have made so many mistakes, I—”

“Zuko,” her voice was firm and emotionless, but that quickly changed when she met his gaze, “I thought things could be different. I thought things could be different back in the North Pole, when we first talked to each other and you told me about Azula. I thought things could be different when you saved me as the Blue Spirit. And I was so convinced things would be different when we met again in Ba Sing Se that I—” she scoffed at her own words, “I had a crush on you, can you believe that? That’s why I visited the teashop so regularly, I just wanted to see you. Stupid, of course. I should’ve known.”

Zuko was sure she could hear his anxious heart beating from the other side of the bed. They were less than a foot away, and yet it felt like miles. He didn’t want her to think about him like that, he didn’t want her to be disappointed in him. Damn, she used to have a crush on him, she liked him, and he screwed everything up like usual. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m—I’m here now, I’m on your side.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were on my side back then too. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. You need to teach me firebending and that’s the only reason you’re allowed here. Talking is unnecessary.”

“Please, I—”

“You should leave, Prince Zuko,” he flinched at the title escaping her lips, hating how it sounded bitter coming from her, “I have really important matters to deal with. We’ll start my firebending training tomorrow.”

“Y/N—”

“Leave, Zuko.”

With a heaviness inside his stomach, he left the room, missing if by a second the frustrated tear that ran down Y/N’s cheek. She wanted to trust him, but how could she? How could she let him in after his betrayal? She had always been forgiving, but she refused to be naive — seeing Zuko side with Azula in the crystal caves hurt her deeply and shoved her little crush on him down her throat. She couldn’t go through that again, it would be simply idiotic to. Y/N had to stand her ground. She wouldn’t be hurt by him again.

-----

“Hey, jerks. Mind if I watch you two jerks do your jerkbending?”

“Get out of—” Zuko was interrupted by the Avatar’s laughter. Sokka smiled softly at her, cheeks blushing. For some reason, that only managed to piss Zuko off even more, “get out of here!”

“Okay, take it easy. I was just kidding around,” the Water Tribe boy winked at Y/N, “see you later?”

“Sure, we still need to see that part of the temple we found yesterday. Exploration partners!”

“Exploration partners!” he agreed with a chuckle and turned away from them. “Bye, Y/N. Jerkbending… Still got it.”

Zuko glanced at her with irritation while she watched Sokka leave. He felt already incredibly frustrated for not being able to produce his fire and not knowing why, he definitely did not need to watch as Sokka and Y/N flirted.

They would make a cute couple, though, and she smiled so brightly at him it was physically painful to watch. He wanted her to smile like that at him, look like that at him. But she wouldn’t — she was over her crush and had no reason to ever feel anything towards him again, not after what he had done. He didn’t deserve her love anyway, so maybe it was for the best.

“So? Any progress, Sifu Hotman?”

“I told you not to call me that,” he snarled angrily and she sighed.

“Sorry, Sifu Hotman.”

“This was a mistake,” he sat down roughly, ignoring the ache on his legs due to the sudden movement, “maybe teaching you firebending is not my destiny.”

She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, not understanding, “what do you mean?��

“How can I teach you anything when I’ve lost my fire, Y/N?” he chuckled sadly, letting one of his hands go through his hair in distress. “I wanted to be on the good side of the war and I can’t even make myself useful.”

“You haven’t lost your fire, Zuko,” her voice was careful, “I think you’re just going through some internal conflict and that’s reflecting on your bending, but if you were meant to teach me firebending, you will. Your destiny is still your destiny regardless, Sifu Hotman.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the Avatar! I’m not even sure who I am anymore, but you have always known what your destiny was.”

“Yeah, and I was scared of it,” she smiled softly, “I ran away and disappeared for a hundred years. People died because of my absence. I have made mistakes, and I have failed many, many times. Sadly, that doesn’t make me less of an Avatar. Zuko, if you must be my teacher, it’s gonna work. We’ll figure things out and you will get your fire back. Okay?”

He stared inside her eyes. There was still some sort of mistrust in them — she was willing to help him because she needed him, but still suspicious. She wasn’t really sure he was on their side, but this was a start. He was going to fix everything and he would make her proud. He would make Y/N happy to call him a friend. Or something more.

Maybe he had a crush on her, too.

-----

Toph’s idea to look for the original source of firebending had greatly backfired (no pun intended, even though Y/N could clearly hear Sokka’s laughter in her head at the joke). They traveled to the Sun Warriors’ ancient city and found an impressive temple adorned with statues. Things were going surprisingly well until they weren’t, and now they were stuck in a disgusting glue because Zuko touched the pretty gemstone. Hours had passed and Y/N was increasingly more annoyed at their situation.

“You had to pick up the glowing egg, didn’t you?”

“At least I made something happen! If it were up to you, we’d never have made it past the courtyard.”

“Maybe, but we wouldn’t be stuck here either, so did you really win?”

Zuko rolled his eyes, “this is stupid. How are we getting out of here?”

“Help!” the girl screamed as loudly as she could, being met with only silence.

“Who are you yelling to? Nobody’s lived here for centuries,” the Fire Prince argued and it was Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Well, what do you think we should do, genius?”

“Think about our place in the universe?”

Despite her current irritation, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words. He instinctively smiled back and she felt warmth spread through her chest.

She was starting to think she wasn’t as over her crush on him as she thought.

They were rescued by the Sun Warriors and judged by the last dragons, and Y/N was sure she hadn’t felt this alive in a while. After burning Katara (it was so long ago it seemed like a different life), she had thought of fire as something destructive, harmful, but she could now see it with new eyes. Fire could be love, life, and power.

The Avatar glanced at Zuko. Maybe she could try and see him as that, too.

-----

“You did well today,” Zuko complimented warily, avoiding her gaze, “if we keep up the training, you might become a better firebender than me.”

“Why, thank you, Hotman,” she smiled brightly and Zuko was sure he could pass out right there, “I just have a great teacher.”

“Y/N!”

The Avatar felt Sokka before she saw him, laughing at the way he hugged her from behind joyfully, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

“Doing fine,” he mumbled, brushing her hair off his face delicately, “wanna grab something to eat?”

“I think I’m gonna train some more and clean myself later. I’ll meet you after?”

“Sure! I’ll be back inside. See you, Y/N, Zuko.”

They both watched as the Water Tribe boy entered the temple again. There was a weird burning sensation running through Zuko’s blood when he asked, voice slightly raspy and overly quiet, “so, you and Sokka, huh? You make a nice couple.”

She turned her head to him so quickly it almost gave her whiplash, “what? No! I mean—” she blushed at the question, flustered by the fact he would even consider something like that. The Fire Prince waited silently, irritation surfacing at her stammering. He wasn’t sure why that angered him so much, but he decided to be still and listen, “we are just friends,” she concluded, “he means a lot to me, but so do Katara and Toph, you know? We are—we are just friends. He even likes that Kyoshi Warrior, Suki! So, yeah, we are definitely not a couple.”

“I see,” Zuko felt curiously static with that piece of information, “and you don’t have feelings for him?”

“No, of course not. I mean, I had a thing for him when we first met, but now it’s gone. He’s my best friend and I love him, just not like that.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Good?” Y/N turned her head to the side in confusion and he paled considerably, finally noticing the meaning of his own words. “Why is that good?”

“Oh? I—it’s good that you love him! Yeah, having friends is amazing, right? Yeah.”

She smiled amusingly, “it truly is.”

“Yeah.”

The Avatar chuckled lightly, “come on, Sifu Hotman. Let’s do that leg movement again, I think I’m not doing it right.”

Days passed and a lot of things happened. Zuko knew Y/N wouldn’t be happy with Sokka’s suicide mission, but he couldn’t let him do it alone, so he accompanied him to the Boiling Rock. Again, she wasn’t happy when he followed Katara for revenge for her mother’s death, but then at least someone had Katara’s back and was ready to protect her. He desperately wanted to earn Y/N’s trust and friendship, but that was rather difficult when he insisted on doing the stuff she didn’t want him to do.

They continued their training on Ember Island and the whole Team seemed to thoroughly enjoy the place. Y/N was giving her all to learn firebending and was succeeding splendidly. To be honest, Zuko loved to see her get the moves right — every single time she made it, she would look at him with bright eyes and grin. It was the most beautiful sight Zuko had ever seen and he would do anything to have it permanently engraved in his mind.

They stayed up late during one particular night. They were both exhausted after hours of training and ended up sat beside each other on the ground on the back of the Fire Nation Royal Family’s beach house. The air between them was filled with silence and heavy breathing from their previous effort.

“Hey, Zuko?” after a few moments, Y/N called him gently, voice tired and raspy giving him chills. She laid down and stared at the dark sky. “Look at the stars with me.”

He blinked, “really? I mean, shouldn’t we go inside?”

“Please?” her eyes met his and his heart skipped a beat. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” Zuko whispered, lying down next to her. They looked at the sky quietly for a bit.

He liked to be around her. It could be the Avatar thing, but Y/N had a calming aura around her that was just unmissable. Being next to her like this gave him the feeling things would be alright, the feeling he was not worthless. It was a lie, of course. There was no way to know how their plans would go, and he was pretty much worthless.

But being beside her was enough to trick his mind. Maybe the little crush he harbored towards her had become something more — Spirits, he liked her so much. Not that it mattered, considering there was no way she would ever love him back, not after everything he had done.

“When I was younger, I believed we became stars when we died.”

He turned his head to look at her, “really?”

She turned to look back and his breath hitched at their close proximity. She chuckled, “yeah. I didn’t even know I was the Avatar back then, I was so young. They told me when I was sixteen, and I ran away shortly after,” there was bitterness to her words, “like a coward.”

“You are not a coward, Y/N. You had no way of knowing how things would go.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Besides, if you hadn’t run away, you wouldn’t have been stuck on ice for a hundred years, and I would never have met you, which would be awful,” he widened his eyes, completing quickly, “and Sokka, Katara, and Toph, too. I wouldn’t have met them either. Of course.”

Her smile was so pretty he forgot how to breathe, “you’re right, Zuko. I don’t think I would have liked to live a life where I never met you,” she smirked before going on with teasing eyes, “and Sokka, Katara, and Toph, too. Of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed with a blush on his face. They stared at each other carefully and Zuko was pretty sure his heart was performing a professional routine of somersaults inside his body. He definitely was past just a simple crush.

Y/N smiled that dazzling smile of hers before averting her gaze to the stars again and yawning. “We should go in.”

“We should,” the Fire Prince immediately started to sit up, but she held him down with a hand to his chest, and probably felt his crazy heartbeat under her fingers.

“Just a bit more, Prince Zuko,” she whispered, eyes trained to the sky. Slowly but surely, she moved her hand from his chest to his own hand, creating goosebumps on every inch of skin she lightly touched on the way there. Zuko could feel his body burn at the barely-there feeling of her fingertips. She intertwined her fingers with his carefully, giving him the chance to pull away if he so wished. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed her hand. She immediately squeezed his back in reassurance.

In the middle of the quiet and comfort they suddenly found in each other, they fell asleep under the stars, fingers playing with each other until exhaustion finally engulfed them in dreams of pretty smiles and light touches.

It was nice to dodge the nightmares.

-----

“I’ve heard you and Zuko slept outside today,” Sokka had a teasing tone to his voice. Y/N glared at him, “you are together now or something?”

“We are not,” she countered, scratching Appa while they talked. Zuko, Toph, Katara, and Suki had left for the beach already. Y/N still needed to feed her sky bison and Sokka offered to help with the excuse of being a good friend. The Avatar was absolutely sure that wasn’t the real reason he stayed back alongside her and he was currently proving her right, “we were just stargazing and then fell asleep.”

“Stargazing, huh? Real cute. I bet it was an endearing impromptu date, wasn’t it?”

“Since when do you even know the word impromptu?”

“I am always full of surprises.”

“Right,” she rolled her eyes and he laughed loudly, “it was not a date.”

“But you do like him, right?.”

“What?” she turned her entire body to him, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms in a defensive stance. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you better than you know yourself and I can tell you have feelings for him,” Sokka copied her movements, staring at her with a smirk, “I also know he likes you back.”

Y/N scoffed and transferred her attention back to Appa, “he does not.”

“So you admit you like him!”

“Shut up, Sokka!” she glared, but quickly gave up under his intense eyes and raised brows. “Yeah, I like him. It doesn’t matter, though.”

“Yes, it does! He feels the same! Look, what about this,” he leaned in closer, that crazy look he had whenever making up a plan taking over his face, “we are going to watch that play about us tonight, right? Well, you guys can sit next to each other! Like a couple!”

“That’s a terrible idea, honey.”

“It’s not! I bet he’s gonna make a move!”

“He won’t, because he’s not in love with me.”

“Wait, you’re in love with him?”

Y/N’s entire body tensed up. She shouldn’t have said that. She wasn’t in love with Zuko! Was she? I mean, she did love to be beside him, and her heart sped up when he gave her one of his rare smiles, and training with him when he had his shirt off was distracting to say the least. Besides, he really seemed to have changed and grown — she felt like she could trust him again, but she could never be sure, and she was adamant on not getting hurt once more. Especially now, when she was dealing with so many things. If he betrayed her a second time… Spirits, it would be just too much to handle.

“I don’t know,” she muttered and Sokka’s cheeky smile faltered, “I don’t want to be.”

He stretched an arm out to hold her hand fondly, “it’s fine, Y/N. Whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay?”

The Avatar smiled sadly, “thank you, Sokka. I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

“I know, honey. I’m great like that.”

She laughed loudly and he grinned in satisfaction, turning her body around and starting to lead her towards the beach, an arm through her shoulders holding her close to his body.

“Shut up, Sokka. You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

Zuko felt a pang to his chest when Sokka and Y/N arrived at the beach holding each other so dearly, but he knew he had no right to complain. She would be better off with Sokka anyway — he was good-looking, nice, funny, smart. Meanwhile, Zuko was nothing but a sad mixture of mistakes and regrets. The Avatar deserved more than that.

“Hey, Hotman,” she walked to him with a smile, planting a kiss on Sokka’s cheek before leaving his side. “Why are you all alone on the sand?”

“Because he’s boring,” Toph answered from some feet away and Katara chuckled. Zuko could feel his face redden.

“He is not,” Y/N argued amusingly, sitting down beside him and grinning. She glanced at him with a happy spark in her eyes, “are you excited for the play tonight?”

“No,” he muttered, but his lack of vivacity didn’t bother her in the slightest, “the Ember Island plays are always ridiculous.”

“I think it’s going to be fun,” she shrugged contently, basking in the hot sun, “if it isn’t, we can always throw food at the stage or whatever.”

He tried really hard, but couldn’t bit back the smile that took over his frown. He watched her attentively, noticing how she seemed to glow in the daylight, giving off this incredible warmth he had only ever seen on her. He averted away his gaze, feeling his neck and face heat up at how unapologetically beautiful she was.

Zuko cleared his throat quietly, “yeah, I guess.”

She only smirked in response.

-----

The play could be worse, he figured. Yes, their portrayal of him was horrible (even though his friends — could he call them friends? Were they friends? He hoped they were — said otherwise) and the actress playing Y/N was not nearly as pretty as the Avatar really was, but Y/N was next to him and, at some point, she had leaned her head on his shoulder tiredly and stayed there. All the training was getting to her and he felt inexplicable joy in the fact she trusted him enough to rest her body on his.

“Look,” her voice was raspy from sleepiness and a chill ran down his spine, “I think now is when you join Team Avatar and becomes our friend.”

He nodded carefully not to disturb her from her position and his heart skipped a beat when she nuzzled closer to his neck. Zuko watched as actor Zuko was accepted into the group and just after a scene with only him and actress Y/N started. Actor Zuko stared at the actress longingly, “my dear Y/N… I know I have wronged you in many ways, but I wanted to apologize for my mistakes and beg for your forgiveness!”

Y/N giggled at that, nudging him affectionately, “that really happened.”

He smiled, eyes following the performers on stage. Actor Zuko continued, “your forgiveness… And maybe your love, Avatar.”

They both immediately tensed up at the words and Y/N moved her head slightly, brows furrowing in confusion.

“My love, Prince Zuko?”

“Yes, my darling.”

They all watched as Actor Zuko and Actress Y/N kissed passionately, earning cheers from the audience. Sokka whistled loudly and Y/N turned to glare at him, receiving a wink in return.

“I have been in love with you since we first met!” Actor Zuko declared excitedly, holding Actress Y/N’s hands. “You are the only one who can make me forget about my teen angst. I love you, Y/N.”

“Well… I don’t!” Actress Y/N moved away swiftly and the crowd gasped in surprise. “I have accepted you in my group, Prince Zuko… But I’ll never accept you in my heart! You’re a bad person that doesn’t deserve my love!”

“What?!” Sokka almost screamed in disbelief. Y/N finally took her head off Zuko’s shoulder, incertitude swimming in her eyes. Before she had the chance to speak, Zuko had already left. The Water Tribe boy widened his eyes at her. “Go after him!”

Y/N nodded her head, getting out of her seat and walking after Zuko, calling his name. He ignored her, feeling anger boil inside him. He knew she would never directly say something like that, but he also knew it was true. She would never love him — he wasn’t worthy of her love, and he was pretty sure she was aware of that too.

“Zuko, wait!” she finally catched up to him, holding his arm and pulling him back. “It’s just a stupid play, Zuko. None of that is true.”

“Really, Y/N?” he turned to stare at her, rage covering his expression. “Because I’m almost certain it is. They said I don’t deserve love, Y/N, and that’s true. After everything I’ve done…”

“No!” she exclaimed desperately, shaking her head vehemently in disagreement. “Zuko, of course you deserve love. Yes, you have made mistakes, but all of us have. You shouldn’t care about what some actress says.”

“But they’re right, Y/N,” he insisted, feeling tears stinging his eyes, “I’m unworthy of love and everyone knows, and that’s why nobody actually loves me.”

“I love you!” she yelled out before she could stop herself, breath hitching at the troubled look taking over his face. Y/N sighed deeply, crossing her arms shyly and looking away, “I do,” her voice was small as she blushed, “I thought I was over my little crush for you but I wasn’t, and it’s—it’s much more than a little crush. I was afraid of admitting it but I know who you are, Zuko. You are loyal and smart and so inherently good and I love you. Spirits, I really do.”

He stared at her for a second, processing her words. She fidgeted anxiously and he smiled at all her small manners. With certainty to his movements, Zuko took a step forwards and cradled her face in his hands. He studied every inch of her expression, waiting for some kind of rejection. She offered him a hopeful smile and he was quick to smash his lips with hers, feeling the warmth that always surrounded her consume him entirely. He kissed her passionately, happiness pouring out of him — the words “she loves you” echoing inside his mind like a broken record, filling his heart with joy.

She moved away when there was no more air in her lungs, breathing heavily and grinning like a mad woman. Y/N lifted her arm and touched his scar so fondly it physically hurt. Never before had he been touched with such care and it made tears flood his eyes, something she instantly noticed, giggling at his cuteness and drying one running tear with her thumb. She felt like her chest was full. He kissed her thumb lovingly when it rested near his mouth.

She loved him. She thought he was worthy of love, of her love, even after everything he had done. No matter how many mistakes he had made, she still loved him, and that thought was enough to make Zuko feel some sort of hope towards the future.

Spirits, she really loved him.

“I love you too, Y/N. Very, very much.”

is it good? not really. could it be worse? yeah lmao

taglist: @bottledcostcowater @lammello @coldlilheart @azucanela @samsmultifandomblogs and @knaite-solo that asked to be tagged on this particular piece

thank you all for reading!! I hope you liked it!!

#zuko x reader #zuko x fem!reader #zuko x f!reader #sokka x reader #atla x reader #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #zuko #sokka #avatar #avatar!reader #avatar reader #ember island #the ember island players #requested

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bloodstainsontengensfloor · 3 years

Text

Tsumiki and Megumi childhood HeadCanons!

*some slight spoilers on what happened to Megumi’s dad

———————————————————————-

BEFORE the abandonment:

-Megumi didn’t like Tsumiki when they first met. She was so happy... why? Like him, she only had one parent and didn’t have the nicest things. She smiled despite not having the nicest clothes, not having the nicest toys, and with not having a dad.

-They walked to school together and Tsumiki would just talk his ear off

-Megumi didn’t really warm up to her until he tripped and scraped his knee and Tsumiki’s entire cheerful demeanor changed and she went to fretting over him

-It annoyed him but at the same time... made him feel happy

-He warmed up to her gradually after that. She always checked in how he was doing as his dad started to check in less and less

-Megumi was aware that his dad didn’t care for Tsumiki’s mom as much as someone you married should, and was surprised when he found out that Tsumiki shared the same sentiments

-Tsumiki and Megumi’s dad... she was a ray of sunshine to him of course and he... had literally no clue how to deal with it. He also didn’t like how a second grader was a better parent than him, but in the end... he knew Megumi would be in good hands

-(If he stayed around, Tsumiki and Toji would have a relationship like Hori and her dad for Horimiya I take no arguments)

AFTER the abandonment:

-Megumi’s dad left first. he didn’t really understand what was happening or why his dad stopped coming to say goodnight and then stopped coming home at all

-Tsumiki was emotional over it for the sake of Megumi and her mom, and started to do little things like get Megumi small gifts when they would walk from school- little stuffed animals (the first one was a dog ofc), chocolates, candies, etc.

-When Tsumiki’s mom left, leaving only a little money behind, Megumi expected Tsumiki to cry or shut herself in, but she didn’t. She took on the role of taking care of him and barley took care of herself.

-He didn’t know why his non emotionally constipated sister wasn’t crying and was smiling. Why was she not showing her hurt? Her dad left her and her mom, and now her mom left her too.

-”Don’t worry about it! She’ll be back soon!” Tsumiki had said when making breakfast for them.

-Oh, Megumi thought, she was in denial.

-When the denial ended, Tsumiki didn’t show any evidence of going through the other stages of grief. When he asked her about it one day, Tsumiki sighed, and looked really tired. “I saw it coming. I don’t remember my dad much, but I remember how he was in the days leading up to when he left.’

-”Stupid Sister,” Megumi said as Tsumiki tried to do the dishes. “Go to sleep. You suck at cleaning anyway.”

-A year of them living alone was fine. Neither of them asked for anything too much and Tsumiki tried to hide the fact that the money was running low as a year was about to pass

-Megumi was having trouble sleeping one night and he and Tsumiki were playing hand shadows. and then. DOGS. Tsumiki screamed but then started coddling them whereas Megumi was just like shocked.

-Megumi was confused at Tsumiki’s naivety but eventually the dogs melted into the shadows again

-Enter creepy dude with white hair.

-Tsumiki saw him talking to Megumi, got a broom, and attempted to whack this giraffe on the head

-But infinity kicked in, and Gojo was invited inside to explain everything.

-Literally everything. Tsumiki asked a lot of questions and was taking notes. If this was something Megumi would be involved in, she had to know as much as she could. They would have been more skeptical had Megumi not discovered his technique.

-Gojo stayed the night by accident, and woke up to Megumi and Tsumiki using the stove, cooking food etc and he wasn’t surprised that they could do this, but rather annoyed that a second grader and first grader could do this and he couldn’t.

-When Gojo ‘officially’ became their guardian, he teleported into the house with party poppers and the certificate yelling “IM YOUR GUARDIAN!”

-Tsumiki just was in shock for a moment before politely smiling. She was more of an adult than this teenager at this point.

-Megumi just deadpanned and went “Why”.

-They had a nice little dinner after that, and because Gojo would always spoil them, they both got luxuries they never had before.

-They got like phones and ipads or ipods or whatever was the most popular product at the time. Tsumiki was so grateful and embarrassed whereas Megumi was annoyed but accepting.

-Tsumiki and Megumi would eat dinner together, and with Gojo whenever he came

-Tsumiki kept on trying to get Megumi to open up a lot more, and he always gets annoyed over it and will rarely ever talk about how he’s feeling

-Except that one night when Megumi had a nightmare that he was alone. Alone in the shadows, unable to summon anything to help him or comfort him, and just wandering down a dark, dark road. At one point, he entered a hall of mirrors, and he saw Tsumiki in one. He was so scared at that point that he kept on trying to get to her but she changed mirrors every time. Megumi shattered every mirror with his fists, cutting them open. In the end, all that was left was a lily flower.

-Megumi, aged 10, woke up crying silent tears and ran into Tsumiki’s room. Tsumiki woke up, concerned but aware that her prying would get her nowhere. She sat up and Megumi hugged her so tight. He ended up sleeping in her room for the next week after that.

-”Megumi..’

-” I’m gonna protect you-”

-”i.... okay.’

-Tsumiki never curses... unless talking about her father, her mother, and Megumi’s dad

-They are both aware Gojo killed him, he almost let it slip when first meeting Megumi and he relayed the info to Tsumiki.

-One time, Gojo asked about Tsumiki’s parents. Megumi was asleep at that point and Gojo was terrified.

-seeing the nice, angel, sunshine 12 year old he knew for years curse worse than Utahime whenever Gojo was remotely near her??

-Please, Tsumiki’s abandonment issues are off the chart. That’s why sometimes she gets too involved in Megumi’s life because she cannot lose him. No matter what. He’s her little brother who’ll scold her if she works too much or tries to take care of too many people.

-Now... for some reason, I Headcanon Tsumiki has lesbian, or having at least some kind of wlw vibes. Idk why...

-Tsumiki told Megumi first ofc, and he didn’t understand why it was a big deal.

-”Ok and?”

-”y-you don’t think it’s weird?”

-”You can like who you like, it isn’t hurting anyone. If you wanna date a girl, date a girl.”

-Tsumiki was grateful to have a brother like Megumi

-Now as for Megumi’s possible coming out for whatever his sexuality (personally i headcanon him as pan, but this will be opened ended for whatever you headcanon)

-Tsumiki just got so happy for him. Began researching everything about it.

-”AWWW MEGS!!”

-hugs. lots of hugs. Always.

-As they got older, they started to but heads more. but despite whatever petty arguments or fights they had, at the end of the day, they loved each other and would do anything for each other.

-and sadly... I gotta add some part of

AFTER THE CURSE:

-Megumi came in yelling and screaming. The denial?? He was convinced this was some prank to get him to stop fighting kids.

-It broke Gojo’s heart. It was the most emotion he ever saw from Megumi and that kind of hysterical accusation of it being a prank soon dissolved into full on sobbing. Gojo hugged the boy as tight as Tsumiki would

-”Never again... I’m... I’m going to get stronger. Then no curse will hurt her again... that’ll work right?”

-Gojo patted the boy head. “Yea... it will. But it won’t be easy.”

-Megumi’s emotions settled and he quickly wiped his tears away. His emotionless expression returned but it was different... There was more fire, more resolve, as he said “i know.”

-Every Friday he visits Tsumiki. He tells her everything that happened in the week.

-”And then he ate it. Tsumiki he may be more naive then you. He ate the finger.”

-When talking to Tsumiki, he reveals his ability to tell stories. Like it’s amazing. He can distinctively set up a scene and gets a little more emotion in his voice.

-God Forbid if Kugisaki or Itadori ever saw him when he told Tsumiki stories

—————————————————————

WOO! This has been in my drafts for a while, so here! I hope you enjoyed!

Thanks for reading!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro tsumiki #megumi headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk headcanons #jjk anime #anime #siblings #toji fushiguro

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

neither calm nor quiet

BTHB: Trapped In A Net

warnings: miscommunication, past familial and domestic abuse mentions, injury, violence, terrible decision making skills

When Virgil finally decided to brave shallower waters, it had already been nearly half a moon cycle since Logan had vanished.

He’d made excuses at first, telling himself that the dread he felt was just his normal brand of overwrought paranoia. For the first few days, he was half-convinced that his curiosity-prone friend would appear at any moment, probably lugging some sort of stray litter or ‘interesting human artifact’ along with him to explain why he’d been late.

Things would be normal again. Virgil would find some rocks for them to sun on and Logan would ramble on about the potential uses of his find, and maybe Virgil would teasingly suggest some outlandish way the trash was secretly a violent human weapon, just to hear Logan thoroughly refute it.

After another three days passed with no sign of the other selkie, Virgil was forced to let that fantasy fade. Logan had never been this late before, not even that time he’d managed to carry an entire minifridge along with him for Virgil to identify.

Something had to have happened to him.

He’d spent the next week scouring the currents for any sign of his missing friend, even approaching other pods and asking around, requesting that they keep an eye out for any signs of Logan. He didn’t expect much from that; the two of them didn’t socialize with other selkies often enough to make any friends, and their two-person pod was too small to spare any food during winter, so there was nothing for the other pods to gain by helping them.

Virgil knew better than most how selfish pod politics could be.

Every few days, he would return to their meeting spot and catch a few hours of sleep to keep himself from crashing, always naively hoping that Logan would be there when he woke. He never was.

In the end, he had to face what he’d already known from the beginning: either Logan was dead, or he’d gone onland and gotten himself bound by a human.

He didn’t want to believe Logan had decided to brave the human world even after Virgil’s many, many warnings against it, but believing the alternative was even worse. So, he steeled himself to do the one thing he’d sworn to never do again, and headed for the cold, rocky shores of the nearest human settlement.

Naturally, he spent so long swimming back and forth between different stretches of beach, trying to force himself to take those literal first steps, that he didn’t notice the woven fibers dancing in the water until he’d plowed right into them.

A fishing net, dyed skillfully to blend in with the water, and large enough that when he tried to twist out of it, he only became further entangled.

Panic set in, then, clouding his mind and leaving him thrashing ineffectively like a simple animal. He couldn’t help it-- he couldn’t breathe underwater in either form, had no gills to keep him steady as he was dragged along by the current. He couldn’t untangle himself while adrift, couldn’t find solid ground while tangled. He would drown.

Between one blink and the next, he found himself in open air, gritty sand pressed against his face. Waves crested gently around him, a sharp contrast to the headache pounding around in his skull.

He never thought he’d be relieved about blacking out and beaching himself, but then, he’d never been worried about drowning in his own element before.

Okay. There weren’t any humans around to see the stupid idiot seal stuck on the beach. This was still salvageable.

Taking a deep breath, he attempted to bite through the netting with his incisors, and got a mouthful of sore gums for his trouble. The dyed fibers seemed to be woven around a base net of fishing wire, because of course they were. He let his head thunk back to the sandy ground, groaning at the new surge of pain the motion caused.

Sun-warmed saltwater continued to wash over his tail, and he blinked slowly, measuring his breaths. He could figure this out. He wouldn’t dry out. He just needed a moment to put himself back together. He could… He…

His eyelids grew heavy, and everything went dark.

Roman thought the guy was a pile of garbage at first, to be quite honest.

Not on purpose, of course! But, come on, when one sees a mound of mystery washed up on shore, it generally ends up being a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around half-rotted driftwood, not a bunch of tangled old fishing nets wrapped around beautiful strangers wearing expensive-looking fur coats!

His next thought, once he’d gotten closer, was that the beautiful stranger wearing the expensive-looking fur coat was dead, and that a body had washed up on his little strip of shoreline. Pallid skin, blue lips, and deep shadows under their eyes-- the beautiful stranger wasn’t exactly giving off an aura of vim and vigor.

He’d spent a few moments staring at his contact list, trying to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do about a body. Should he call 911? … Should he call Remus?

Before he could make a decision either way, he finally picked up on the shallow rise and fall of the beautiful stranger’s chest, and realized that they were still alive! Potentially not for much longer, laying out in the cold all soggy like that, but Roman could work with mostly alive!

And so, he found himself here, carefully carrying the small but surprisingly dense stranger up to his home by the cliffs, and risking looking like a total serial killer doing it.

He couldn’t help but theorize as he walked. A beautiful stranger in expensive clothing, tangled in nets with what appeared to be a head wound… It read like an old unsolved case in a detective novel, where the mysterious stranger in question got in too deep with some dangerous people and ended up clubbed over the head and dumped into a river to tie up loose ends.

“Except you managed to survive, obviously,” Roman said to them, mostly to reassure himself. He really had to stop eavesdropping on Remus’s true crime podcasts. “And you made your way to me! Excellent choice, I’m great at nursing people back to health. Probably. I don’t have much practical experience, but, you know, I’ve read extensively about this exact thing. In romance novels. As one does.”

The beautiful and mysterious stranger continued to be unconscious. Roman was starting to feel grateful for it.

His house was empty, thankfully, since his brother had work to attend to today. He fumbled with the keys for a moment before pushing the door open and carrying the stranger inside, sighing with relief at the warm air.

“That’s got to feel much better, hm?”

He sat the stranger down in the foyer, removing his shoes to go grab some scissors from the kitchen.

“First order of business,” he announced in his best announcer voice, “getting all that netting off of you. While I’m sure you could rock fishnet leggings, fish nets on their own just don’t have the same je ne sais quoi, you know? Also, they look very uncomfortable. You’re great at staying still, so just keep that up.”

He carefully cut his way through the looser parts of netting, pulling it off piece by piece until all that was left were the abrasions where they’d formerly cut into skin. Roman had no idea how they’d even managed to get that tangled up, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It couldn’t have been pretty.

In the process of removing the net, however, he’d noticed another rather pressing matter.

Going by the flash of thigh he’d accidentally witnessed while shifting the net around, the stranger definitely wasn't wearing anything under that fur coat of theirs. Like, nothing.

(Exactly what kind of situation had the stranger been in before this?!)

Even so, leaving them in a sodden coat couldn’t be good for their constitution. Or his poor couch’s upholstery.

Roman spent a few moments puzzling the situation out before coming up with a brilliant solution. He retrieved the fluffy gold comforter from his bed and draped it over the stranger, covering their front half with it. Then, he carefully worked their arms out of the coat’s sleeves, very pointedly not focusing on the adorable freckled shoulders this operation revealed. Finally, he tugged the entire coat out from behind them, wincing at the slight furrow that appeared in their brow.

“Sorry, sorry, I know the cold floor can’t be comfortable…”

Soggy coat removed, he was free to continue bundling the rest of the comforter around the stranger’s back, therefore making it easy for him to pick them up in a neat little bundle of blanket and deposit them on the couch. No nudity awkwardness required!

Pleased with his solution, he draped a fluffy towel over the stranger’s head and carefully dried some of the dampness from their hair. Next, he wasted no time in stoking the fire higher in his hearth, sending waves of warmth into the room and making it so the stranger’s skin didn’t look quite so clammy.

Once he’d cleaned up the mess left in the foyer and grabbed the first aid kit from under his sink, he planted himself in a chair next to the couch, feeling ready to handle anything.

“Okay, Google. How do I treat a head wound?”

Virgil felt as though he’d woken to a nightmare.

He was in the wrong body, surrounded on all sides by heavy fabric and warm air, and his coat was missing. That list of facts alone was just about as bad as any night terror he’d had.

The humming was unusual, though.

A soft tune, occasionally broken up by a half-muttered lyric or two, carried through the air, voice completely at ease. His mother had never sung to him in front of others, and it sure as hell wasn’t his father.

He tried to remember where he’d been last. The back of his head stung… he’d ended up on a beach? The tide had been turning, from high to low… He must have dried out up there, changed into his less durable form. And now he was warm and dry.

He clenched his fists weakly and grit his teeth, knowing that a human had found him and stolen him away. Just like his mother. He’d come to find Logan and lost himself before ever even starting. Typical.

“Are you with us, Sleeping Beauty?” a bright voice asked.

The humming had broken off while he was absorbed in his thoughts, and now he could hear the shift and rustle of movement next to him. He opened his eyes, already aiming the coldest possible glare at his captor.

He was sort of surprised to find that the human sitting at his side wasn’t holding his coat. His father used to make a point of handling his mother’s coat at any opportunity. He’d liked to watch his mother stare at it, resting assured that so long as he held it in his possession, she could do him no harm.

This human was much younger than his father had been, probably around as old as Virgil was now. He had dark skin and soft eyes that reflected the firelight, and he was smiling hopefully at Virgil.

“Hello there! It’s excellent to see you looking a little more lively! I was starting to think about actually calling the hospital, heh.”

Wordlessly, Virgil slowly shifted to sit up, shoving the thick blanket out and shaking the cloth from his head. He looked down, confirming what he already knew. No coat. The human hadn’t even bothered to dress him up in human trappings to ‘make up’ for the absence.

“Ah, yeah... I sort of basically pulled you out of the ocean and what little you were wearing was completely soaked.” The human rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I figured it’d be less of an invasion of privacy to just let you get dressed yourself once you woke up?”

Oh, the human was worried about his privacy? What a joke.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, truly!” the human continued, oblivious to Virgil’s rising ire. He gave a mocking little bow, pretending to respect the one he’d abducted. “My sincerest apologies.”

He was done playing along with mind games like these. Better to let the human know where they stood right off the bat.

“I’m going to kill you,” Virgil promised, and then lunged for the human’s jugular.

To his genuine surprise, he actually made contact, hands clamping onto the junction between collar and throat. The human let out a high-pitched yelp as his chair toppled over, taking both of them with it.

Virgil landed knee-first on the human’s sternum, and paused to blink down at the wheezing stranger, who apparently had been so confident in the weakness of his victim that he hadn’t bothered to bind Virgil from harming him in advance.

Unless.

His grip loosened slightly, just in time for the human’s fist to catch him squarely in the mouth. He threw himself backwards, rolling with the force of the motion to get some distance and hunkering in a crouch. It had been too long since he’d been active in this form, his sense of balance was in shambles.

The human scrambled to his feet, and grabbed the back of the chair, eyes wild. He thrust it out between them like a barrier, as though it could prevent any more strangulation attempts.

“What is wrong with you?!” he shrieked, voice cracking as his gaze flickered back and forth between Virgil and some far off point. “I tenderly nursed you back to health, and your response is to try and murder me? Unfair! Cruel! Rude!”

“Where is my coat?” Virgil replied, voice hoarse and split lip stinging. A test, because humans were tricky and loved to lie.

“Your— your coat?” The human pulled up short, head tilting slightly in a bewildered manner. A convincing actor, if nothing else. “Is that what all this is about? I put it on the coat hanger to dry! I know better than to try and wash someone’s fancy fur coat without permission, yeesh.”

A low warning growl in the back of his throat, Virgil turned his gaze from the current threat and followed the gesture the human had made.

Sure enough, there it was. His freedom, draped on a peg in the open with all the rest of the human’s fabric outer layers like some common garment.

“Do you… want me to get it— eep!” The human lifted the chair back up in paltry defense as Virgil snarled at him. He rose up and crossed the distance to his pelt in five wobbly strides, before the human could try and return it to him and lock them both into a loveless marriage.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he quickly wrapped his second skin around him, that grounding weight settling back where it belonged. He still couldn’t shift back, not here, but the ocean was close enough to taste in the air.

The human was still huddled defensively by the fireplace, looking indignantly bewildered and not at all like he knew he’d just given up the perfect opportunity to control Virgil.

Which meant that-- barring some incredibly convoluted scheme-- he really had no idea. And Virgil had tried to strangle him, even if under false pretenses. He drew the edges of his pelt closer around him, rolling the beginnings of an apology around in his mind.

The mysterious stranger was still glaring at Roman like they were contemplating continuing to try and strangle him to death at any moment.

He’d brought a half-drowned stranger into his home and tenderly treated their injuries, and what had he received in return for his efforts? A murder attempt, which now that he thought about it was maybe an outcome he should have considered earlier. Remus would never let him live this down.

Assuming he lived long enough for his brother to give him shit about it, that was.

The stranger seemed to at least be a little calmer now that their reclaimed coat was thoroughly wrapped around them, rendering them more lump-shaped than person. Roman felt much more secure in glaring back, too.

He set his impromptu shield/chair down firmly on the floor. “I have no idea what your problem is, Gloomy B. Jones, but where I’m from, the response to someone saving you from dying of hypothermia is ‘thank you’, not a strangulation attempt!”

The murderglare intensified. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yes,” Roman said, disbelieving, “because you were too busy being unconscious. On the beach. In 40-below temperatures!”

“That’s my problem, not yours,” the stranger responded snappishly.

Roman threw his hands in the air, but his impending frustrated rant was impeded by the sight of a stifled flinch running through the stranger. Feeling a stab of guilt, he lowered his arms slowly before continuing.

“It seems I made it my problem when I dragged your soggy self all the way to my house, so--”

“Great news for you, then: I’m leaving.” Baring their teeth in a distinctly unfriendly manner, the stranger turned to do just that.

“Hold it!” Roman called, alarmed. “You’re going into town like that?! People will think you’re a flasher!” Even his brother wouldn’t go out dressed in nothing but an oversized coat. ... Probably.

The stranger paused, squinting at him warily. Roman took it as a cue to continue.

“Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot here. Several wrong feet. Let’s try again. I’m Roman Faroe, I work for the local newspaper, and you are…?”

“None of your business,” replied the stranger, with all the stubborn petulance of a toddler digging their heels in and refusing to move whilst smack dab in the middle of an overcrowded supermarket.

“Would you like me to call you ‘Almost-Corpse-I-Dragged-Off-The-Beach?’ Perhaps make up a thematic nickname or two for you? Because let me tell you, this is exactly how you get called--,”

“Hold on,” the stranger cut him off, a realization seeming to dawn on him, “did you say you worked for the news?”

“Yes, I mean, the newspaper not the news. Although I’m sure I’d make an excellent anchor,” Roman gestured to all of himself for effect, “my true passion lies in my carefully curated romantic advice column!”

“So, you get all the information in town,” continued the stranger, who had a strange glint in their eye.

“I mean, if you want to be a nerd about it.”

“How about this.” The stranger stepped forward, straightening out of their defensive slouch for the explicit purpose of being just tall enough to loom over Roman. “You want to know my name? I’ll tell you, if you help me track down something important that I lost.”

An investigative quest for a mysterious MacGuffin? Roman swallowed, feeling his heart flutter wildly with what felt less like intimidation and more like excitement. He could totally keep his cool, he just had to open his mouth and say something suave.

“I also want to know your origin story,” he opened his mouth and babbled instead.

The stranger narrowed their eyes for a moment, and Roman belatedly remembered the near-strangulation. Perhaps he shouldn't be agitating a femme fatale type, what with all the emphasis on the fatale.

To his surprise, it only took a moment before they capitulated, sticking a hand out. “Fine. After my thing gets done.”

Roman shook gladly, trying not to shiver at the cool touch. Had they checked to make sure the stranger wasn’t hypothermic yet? “It’s a deal, then.”

“Great.” They twisted on their heel, stalking to the door. “Let’s get this over with, already.”

“Hold on there, Surly Temple.” Roman called, hand on his hip. “I hate to break it to you, but if you go into town mostly naked, the only news we’ll be hearing about will be your immediate arrest.”

The stranger glanced down at his attire, and then released the door handle with a low sigh. “... Pants first?”

“Pants first.”

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #selkie AU #bthb #bad things happen bingo #writing #my writing #neither calm nor quiet #ncnq #oneshot #... theoretically #disclaimer: do not do anything roman does here #he is a lucky fool #logan is fine btw #theoretically.#i feel like im forgetting tags. well whatever #selkies

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies – and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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lolita-lollipop · 3 years

Note

I would like a yandere platonic shinsou and denki with a middle school reader who has bullying problems and is kinda dumb

YANDERE PAIRING DENKI/SHINSO X READER

n another request you added onto this saying the reader was more on the chubby side (which is tottay fine) and that she’s severely insecure to the point where she’s in a negative headspace for quite the while. Just a little explanation for other readers.

——————————————————————-

-the two meet you while on a small date at a cat cafe that shinso had been eyeing for quite some time, you were just in there talking to one of the cats about how your day went today, by the sound of it, it was pretty bad. You spoke to her about how the group of guys and girls would make fun of your weight, and how you really just wanted to be normal. The two listened in with sympathy, silently agreeing that if no one was going to help you, they would.

-the two know personally what insecurity does to a person, let along a young little one like yourself, shinso grew up thinking that he was a villain because of his quirk, and denki was somewhat ridiculed for being an “idiot”. And they felt like no one should have to go through that alone, especially someone so adorable as you are. They couldn’t see any reason why you would be bullied for your appearance, but people were cruel like that, doesn’t make it any mor justified.

-they feel the need to splatter whoever hurt this precious little thing over the walls, you would have to be so heartless, just look how cute you are all snuggled up to the cats!

-whenever you leave, they’re just genuinely worried for your well being, wondering why you’re walking out so late, or or if you’ll be okay, mentally and ohysically.

-you’ll stRt seeing at least one of them everywhere, it doesn’t stop the intense bullying in school, but the group of preteens are scared to approach you in front of a pro hero. At some point they’ll be at your school with a whole speech on why “bullying is bad”, intentionsly glaring at a select few.

-they’ll make their way into your life, visiting with you both before and after school, showing up at your front door to check up on you , eventually, the couple is a normal aspect of your life. When you’re with them they give you nothing but positive comments about how pretty you look, they kindof baby you about it actually, cooing at how adorable you are in your school uniform, or patting your head when you smile at them.

-ever feeling down? Denki is going to tell some stupid joke crabs, while shinso dies interanally at the bare idiocy of it, but is also happy because it was able to coax a laugh out of your usually unhappy face.

Kidnapping:

- I think what sets them off is when one particular bully makes a few comments about “taking a swan dive off of the roof”, and you just kindof sat there, almost as if you agreed. Kaminari and shinso snap, immediately flying towards the two of you, shinso will wrap you up in his scarf, while kamianri will drag the poor girl into a dark alleyway.

-shinso usually isn’t one for physical affection, but this is different, he’ll immediately pull you towards him, sweeping you off your feet (literally) and hold you close to his chest. Covering your ears to shield your precious little mind from the screams of your “friend”.

-this Is probably one of those pairs that won’t knock you out or try to force you to come with them, you’re already quite docile and liking at the moment, so shinso will just carry you all the way to their shared home, your just kindof dazed, off in your own little world, so it was pretty easy to make it happen without you even noticing.

-in general, them “kidnapping” you, is based on the fact that you are proving to be a danger to your own physical health, even if it isn’t all that true, they overreact and twist the idea of it.

Treatment:

-life with them is a dream, you get so much attention and love. The two base their obsessive behavior on the fact that you are too naive to understand how beautiful you actually are, leading to the assumption that you can’t a take care of yourself correctky, so they’ll do it for you!

-there are no mirrors in the house, none at all.

-they genuinely just want you to be happy with yourself, and with your situation, so anything you wnat, within reason, you can get. Most of the time you spend is either reading, coloring, or sleeping, maybe even a cartoon here or there, these two are really the only human interaction you get, so you’re almost glad when they come home and you can speak with them, talking to cats is fun and all, but sometimes you need them to talk back.

-you are treated like a daughter, like someone precious to them, you’ll find that sharp corners are padded off, gates are installed so you can’t leave the house, floors are installed with soft mats just in case of a fall. You aren’t trusted to do much without hurting yourself.

-any protests about being here are met with a swift shushing, you’ll immediately be pulled into one of the twos laps, and be rocked back and forth while their lecture begins, eventually the idea of leaving them has been thrown out of your mind.

-denki and shinsou personality’s counteract eachother, while kaminari is quite delusional and act primarily on impulse, shinso thinks things through and is generally calmer. It comes into play when we you’re feeling upset, or want to leave, you’ll have two fully grown men coddling you, shinso goes and gets your favorite movies and some food, and denki just outright picks you up and sets you on the couch with the three cats they own, tickling your tummy and telling you how adorable you are when you laugh.

Punishment:

-it’s a silent agreement between the two that they hate punishing you, but that doesn’t mean they won’t do it. As long as there is a positive outcome to the punishment, like maybe you’ll stop hiding away all day, or stop attempting to escape.

-shinso will bring a few people you knew outside of this house (like parents, teachers, friends) under his spell, and will simply have them jump off the roof, you can do nothing but watch in horror as they splatter themselves n the concrete. Denki will hold you In his lap, telling you that this could’ve been avoided. Of course, after this goes down, you’re coddled to a whole new point, saying that you took your punishment so well.

A punishment that actually kindof benefits you is one for when you get into your own head, wondering why they even wanted you here, you weren’t all that special, at least in your eyes. I don’t know if This is considered a punishment, but whenever you express your under confidence in yourself theylle

Cuddles:

-as I had said earlier, shinsou is not completely the one for physical affection, and yet again I’ll say it, you are different. It really depends on if you’re snuggling individually with them, or simultaneously with both of them.

-shinso is more of a dominant person, not as playful, doesn’t have any sense of humor (Sorry shinso), so when cuddling you, it’s reflected. He’ll litterally hook his arms under your legs, pulling you into his lap, cradling you like a little baby. He’ll just do this at any point in time, it’s so warm and snuggly, when you fall asleep he can feel his heart melting. You can bet kaminaru has taken millions of photos of you guys.

-kaminari likes to have you facing him, so he’ll sit you on his lap sideways, or lay you on top of him, and warps his arms around your waist, he’ll pull you close and stroke your hair, giving small “awwes” at your embarrassed state. He’ll coax you into dreamland with various cooes of affection, “go to sleep baby, I’ll be here when you wake up”, draping a blanket over the two of you.

-now, cuddling with both of them is probably the best thing to ever happen to you, they’re married, they cuddle all the time, they are pros at it, so adding in a third human, who happens to be super short compared to them, ohhh it’s just so amazing. They’ll be spooning with you in the middle, denki in the front and shinso in the back, a few cats here and there, and it’s just a whole snuggle puddle party!

*bonus

You’ll be getting many visits from grandpa Aizawa, when he’s here, you sleep with him in his bed, it’s not even debatable. For some reason he brings a new cat every time he visits, so the cats in this household have increased from 3 to like 12 in a matter of months.

———————————————————————-

Sorry for any garment or spelling mistakes, have a wonderful day today anon!

#yandere shinso x reader #yandere kaminari #yandere denki #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere my hero academia #yandere headcanons #my hero academia shinsou #denki headcanons #shinsou hitoshi

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peterprkrsbtch · 3 years

Text

sapphire - part 1

Peter Parker x reader

A/N: This is some type of wish fulfillment writing for me because I like to imagine becoming a hot and badass superhero when I fall asleep and I thought other people may be entertained as well :) If you enjoy it, like or reblog to share!

REMINDER: in this story, the reader gains superpowers and I do describe the appearance of her body. i hope you know every body is a superhero body and weight does not impact your beauty at all-i just needed to show how drastic the changes were!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, attempted kidnapping, guns/violence

The sun that came beaming through your window brightly as you opened the blinds in your room immediately brought a small smile to your face. Summer had always been your favorite season. As smart as you were, a three month break from Midtown has never sounded better. Junior year had not been easy for you.

Small goosebumps appear on your arms as you shiver when the memory of that night crosses your mind.

***

You’d been walking home after your first day of school, distracted as images of the day flicker through your mind. The first day was always exciting, new classes and people. Probably why you were too distracted to notice the man creeping up behind you until he wrapped his hands around your backpack and yanked it off of your back, making you let out a yelp of surprise.

Or, he’d tried to. Unfortunately, this dumb ass criminal didn’t know how backpack straps work and when he tugged, the straps caught around your arms and yanked you off your feet, slamming your body into your attacker with a groan.

Panic immediately clouded your mind. You’d never been mugged before. You try desperately to remember anything from the self defense class you’d taken in seventh grade. The attacker seemed surprised that your bag hadn’t slid off your body and this gave you the opportunity to scream. “Help!” You shrieked. “Somebody!” It was the middle of the day in New York and yet, the street you were walking was dead empty.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man growled in your ear and you suddenly became aware of his death grip on your arm. Before you could contemplate punching him in the face or kneeing his dick, a sharp poke on your arm made you whip your head, just in time to see a needle full of glowing blue liquid being injected into your arm by the man. He hadn’t wanted your backpack at all.

The shock you felt as you watched the unfamiliar substance enter your body was amplified at the burning sensation quickly spreading from the injection site to your whole upper arm. The man lets out a harsh laugh, and you finally turn to see his face. He did not look like a homeless man. Or a thief. The sight of his groomed beard and expensive jacket made you feel like you’d been plunged in ice. What the hell was happening?

“What did you do to me?” The sound of your voice is much stronger than you expect it to be, and it helps to ease a couple of the butterflies going mental inside your stomach. At least you didn’t sound terrified. He just lets out a low laugh and begins to drag you by your backpack towards a car parked on the opposite side of the road you hadn’t noticed until now.

“You’re coming with me.”

The burning had spread to your entire left arm and was now taking over your left shoulder. If you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins due to your current situation, you would’ve been doubled over with pain. You struggle against the man’s hold on your backpack as he drags you closer to the large black SUV.

Hell no. I am not getting kidnapped today. You force yourself to calm enough to quickly think of a plan. Any plan. When the man reaches the car despite your struggling, a disgusting sneer on his face, he lets go of his grip on your arm to reach for the handle, and you take your chance to head-butt him as hard as you possibly can-letting your arms slide out of the backpack as you do.

“Ow! Get back here you little bitch!” But it’s too late. In the two seconds when the man doubles over to clutch at his head, you’d snatched your backpack from the ground where he’d let it fall and sprinted down the street. You try to tell yourself that the unbearable burning sensation now settling into your chest is from running, not from whatever the fuck he’d injected you with.

***

A loud beep, beep from the clock on your bedside table snaps you out of reminiscing on your near death experience and a large smile grows on your face. Finally it was 5 p.m, the time when your mom usually went over to her boyfriend’s apartment across town. Every night, like clockwork, since you were 13.

It used to bother you, but now the silence gives you the opportunity to do what you needed to do alone. You get up and move towards your closet as you let your mind slip into your memories again as you reminisce on the events after the attack.

***

You’d run home like hell and had never been so grateful to find that your mom had left early. Within ten minutes, the burning had spread and you were left to writhe around in pain on your bed for hours. There was no let up, no break. You knew you were going to die.

Whatever the man had injected in you was breaking apart every muscle, every atom in your body so slowly that you could feel it. Eventually, your pained screams became quieter as exhaustion began to take over. This is it. I’m really going to die. My mom is going to come home and find me like this-

Before you could finish your thought, a harsh gasp involuntarily left your mouth and you launch forward to sit up. Okay, maybe I’m not going to die. You thought as the pain suddenly ceases. You slowly bring your hands up to stare at them, scared that the pain will return. Just as you’re about to let out a breath of relief, it hits you again.

And it’s so much worse. The burning sensation shoots through your body, and every broken muscle and molecule felt as though it was being bound together again. The minutes bleed together as exhaustion and pain take over your body.

***

Looking back, you still have no idea what was in the injection. All you know is what happened because of it.

***

Beep, beep.

BEEP, BEEP.

The incessant beeping of your stupid alarm wakes you from quite possibly the weirdest dream you’ve ever had. You’ve never had pain in a dream feel so vivid before, and the memory alone draws your body inwards, hugging your arms in for comfort.

Your arms. Hold on.

They didn’t feel like this last night. You glance down at your skin, the shadow of your blanket making it hard to see. You rip the covers off and storm over to your full length mirror-and all you can do is let out a gasp. I’m going crazy.

With shaking hands, you grab your phone and unlock it, scrolling until you find a mirror selfie you had taken at the pool over summer, just two weeks ago. You glance at the photo, then back up at the mirror. Then at the photo, then the mirror. Photo, mirror, photo.

A shocked laugh rips through your lips as you stare at the photo of yourself. Smooth skin and curves. A couple extra pounds of baby fat you had yet to lose, a spot or three of acne on your forehead. You weren’t an extraordinarily insecure person, but you were a teenage girl and a couple of those things had bugged you but-

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror. You run your hands along your arms. You used to describe them as flabby, but you can feel and see the toned, tight skin. You move your eyes to your boobs. Were they bigger? They definitely looked bigger.

Any “baby fat” you carried had seemingly disappeared overnight. You slowly lift your shirt and let your jaw drop, running your hands over your small waist, not missing the muscle you can feel under your skin. Your skin was perfectly clear and your hair and lashes both seemed longer and healthier.

When you were younger and more naive, you’d hoped puberty would involve waking up one morning looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. But that was stupid. Things like that don’t happen, right?

Slowly, the events of yesterday began to register in your mind. The attack, the injection, the pain. A million questions flooded your mind. The most prominent being what the actual fuck??

“Y/n? You almost ready to leave for school?” Your mom’s voice rings out into your silent room as she knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah, Mom! Just a couple minutes.” You call out nervously, waiting until you hear her footsteps walk away from your door. You let out a curse as you race into the bathroom, the harsh lighting illuminating even more changes to your face.

Your lips were bigger, your eyes more open, and your cheekbones and jaw more defined. Fuck. If you weren’t so worried about anyone noticing your overnight transformation, you would’ve taken more time to think about the positives of this situation.

You were always shy and quiet at school, choosing a small group of people to hang around and mostly focusing on your classes. But every teenage girl dreams of being beautiful, and now you finally were. You pull your hair up to brush your teeth and wash your face faster than you ever have before, electing to ignore the fact that you should have a nasty bruise from your head-butt yesterday.

You choose to skip makeup completely, knowing it would draw more attention to your new face. You took one last look at your body in the mirror before pulling on the baggiest sweats you owned and a loose hoodie, hoping they would mask your new curves.

You had no idea how you were supposed to hide this all year.

***

You smiled as you remember how silly you’d acted the next day. You were overly paranoid, covering your face with your hoodie as much as you could and choosing to sit alone in the library rather than at your usual table. No one questioned you, not once.

You had felt a pang of loneliness at first, knowing that no one at your school even cared enough to notice the obvious change had hurt just a bit, but it made dealing with the powers easier.

***

You’d first noticed it on the walk to school. It was barely September and the summer sun was still coming down on the city. This paired with your heavy layers of clothing and the long walk to school would normally leave you slightly breathless. As you arrived at the school feeling more energized and alive than ever, you noticed you’d gotten there in a fourth of your normal time without even trying.

You next noticed it in gym, when the daily pushups the teachers forced you all to do every year were suddenly easy. Effortless. As soon as the final bell rang, you ran home within minutes without feeling winded at all and winced as you threw your door open, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges.

Something else was definitely going on. Your appearance was not the only thing that seemed to go through an upgrade. You said a quick hello to your mom before running up to your room.

For the first time since you woke up that morning, you relaxed once your door was closed and locked. Your shoulders release as you sink to your bed, dropping your head into your hands. You try to recall anything you’ve read about people being totally changed after some sort of injection.

Your heart sinks. Captain America jumps to mind. The Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff and her dead brother. They’d all been injected.

You bite your lip and glance at a book sitting on your bedside table. You straighten up and thrust your hands towards the book, trying to make it move. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. You close your eyes and breath out a small breath of relief. Ok so I’m beautiful now and have great endurance, at least I’m not a superhero. You let yourself relax slightly, your eyes still closed. Now you feel dumb for throwing your hands around like some kind of knock off Scarlet Witch.

When you open your eyes, your blood runs cold. The book is floating in front of you, a blue glow surrounding it. Slowly, you raise your, now shaking, hands again towards the book until they flash with the same blue and it launches towards you, the force of it making you rock back as you catch it in your hands.

Well. Fuck.

***

After that, you were thankful that no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. You bite down a smile as you remember the first few months after, thinking about how much you’d changed since then.

***

You spent nearly every night for weeks studying every superhero fight video you could find on youtube and practicing the moves alone in your empty house, over and over.

It didn’t take much for you to perfect them as your new body seemed to be built for this kind of shit. Black Widow was your favorite to watch, and you made sure to spend extra time working through her signature moves, letting the flips, kicks, and punches become muscle memory.

You spent time practicing your real powers as well, though those seemed to come to you naturally. After that first delay with the book, it had almost felt like second nature to lift up the heaviest objects in your house with just a wave of the hand, but still, you practiced. Over and over and over. You quickly learned you could move people as well, namely yourself. Flying over New York in the middle of the night was something that would always leave you breathless.

Once winter settled over New York, you decided you were finally ready to try and use your abilities for good. You had near perfect control over your “magic” and you were pretty sure you’d spent more hours in the past month punching the air than sleeping.

You spent all day Sunday bent over the dusty sewing machine you dug out of a shelf in your kitchen closet. The trip to Joann’s reminded you of your mother teaching a younger you how to sew, though you two never bought yards of spandex to make a skin tight suit.

It had taken a couple minutes for you to remember how to use the machine, but you were extremely proud of the final product. You’d made a simple skin tight black suit with a zipper up the front and a mask to cover most of your face, but you figured no one could recognize you by just your mouth.

Once you finished the last hem on your face mask, you took the suit and the mask and hid them in your closet next to a pair of black combat boots. You put the dusty machine away and finally made your way into your bathroom, glancing nervously at the box on the counter.

Although you had exactly zero friends at Midtown, you had grown up with some of these kids and you couldn’t risk one of them recognizing your hair color if they saw you in your superhero suit and the box advertising temporary spray on hair color seemed to be the perfect solution.

You take the small can out of the box and spray blonde-ish highlights into your hair and brush it through until your long hair is shades lighter than your natural color and you’re happy with the results.

Your hands shook as you pulled on your suit, then your mask, and finally, the black boots. You move to your mirror and nervously give yourself a glance, only to be pleasantly surprised. You really do look like a superhero, even more so when you will your hands to glow blue with your powers.

***

That night, you learned that you had severely underestimated yourself. You thought memories of your own attack would flash before your eyes every time you knocked down a criminal, but it didn’t.

Every time you would wrap your thighs around someone’s neck to drag them to the ground you felt strong and every time the person you just saved would begin to thank you aggressively, you knew you made the right decision to help people.

You kept your guard, and your hood, up during the school days but your months of training and now your late night rescues, had caused a spike in your confidence. After a particularly hard 18 vs. 1 fight in which your zipper had gotten yanked down a bit, you just left it. It looked better like that anyway.

You wished you had someone to show the new you. You used to be so unsure of yourself, and now because of a seemingly random attack, you had the ability to help people. It definitely felt good to be doing something good.

Unfortunately, your endeavors started to become sensationalized. New York was obsessed with superheroes, you knew this. But you never thought people would start paying attention to you.

You should’ve known better. A girl with enhanced curves in a skin tight suit, flying around the city with glowing blue hands and fighting crime with her front zipper pulled down, and you thought you could remain invisible in the media too?

Luckily for you, the spotlight was cast upon another new superhero around the same time-a Spiderman. Once he entered the superhero scene just weeks after yourself, you noticed the articles you’d previously seen sexualizing you and your costume turned into articles about the two of you instead. If only those reporters knew you were 17.

You were thankful for him even though you’d never met him, and your two names “Spiderman and Sapphire” were often used in the same headlines to discuss you two newcomers.

At first you hated the nickname the media gave you simply because of the increased attention, but you learned to love it. It was nice to see people appreciating what you were doing, even though every camera that was ever pointed your way made you anxious to protect your identity.

Ever since your first winter night spent fighting crime, you’d quickly fallen into a pattern. School with your eyes glued to your desk the whole time, sweats and hoodies concealing your body, then homework until your mom leaves, then go out and help your city.

Your fighting has improved to the point that you almost prefer hand to hand combat rather than using your powers. On especially slow nights, you’ve let yourself drag out a fight with some bank robbers or kidnappers just to entertain yourself.

It was your escape. In your suit, with your face covered and your hair thick with the lightening spray, was the only time you felt like yourself. Really yourself.

But you had a plan to change that. As easy as it had been to lay low throughout the last year at school, you’d had enough. You wanted more. So you had a plan. A new body and face overnight is impossible, but over three months? Totally plausible.

You were excited for three months with nothing to do but go out as Sapphire, and you knew these few months were going to be the calm before the storm if you really decided to go back to Midtown as the new you.

God, enough with the reminiscing. You told yourself, but you do allow yourself to feel pride at how much you’d matured from your first day of school this year to your last as you tug on your familiar suit and mask.

***

You glance down at the buildings beneath you, eyes silently scanning every dark alley and corner for trouble. Your hands glow blue as you fly yourself gracefully through the sky. Suddenly, loud sirens and screams sound from beneath you and you look down to see 8 large men climbing into a bank as they smashed the windows.

You quickly fly yourself down and through the hole behind the men as they point guns towards the only two people in the bank, a janitor and a man you assume is the manager. “Give us the fucking money.” One of the men growls and the others laugh menacingly at their friend’s threat.

The manager notices you standing behind the men and his eyes widen, causing the men to start to turn towards you. You grab the gun out of one of their hands using your powers and smirk at the oh, shit look on their faces. Before you can make a move to knock the man nearest you off his feet, a web snaps through the broken window and snatches the gun from his hands before you can blink.

Spiderman comes swinging through the opening, landing gracefully. “What’s going on here, fellas?” He asks, and you can’t help but smirk at the sound of his voice. The two of you seemed to live similar lives, and yet this was your first time meeting him.

The white eyes of his mask flicker from the men, frozen with fear, towards you, and his eyes grow with recognition and maybe shock? Hard to tell with the mask. He opens his mouth to say something else, but one of the men still holding guns raises it and fires towards Spiderman without a second of hesitation.

You raise your hand quickly, stopping the bullet in mid-air and everyone around you stares at the bullet suspended in mid-air, your glowing blue hand outstretched, almost as if you were catching it. Spiderman’s eyes widen even more. “Holy shit.”

You smile to yourself and clench your hand into a fist, letting the bullet crumble to the ground in dust. “Nice try.” You say to the man. “But you’re getting on my nerves.” You turn towards the 8 men in front of you, 5 still holding guns. You move your hand to face the men, and with a sweeping motion, the 5 guns are yanked from their hands to suspend far above their heads, where they couldn’t reach.

You can’t help a small laugh as one of the men tries to jump up and grab it. You turn towards Spiderman who’s standing there with his mouth wide open. “Sorry if I stole your moment.” You say genuinely. You had no doubt that he could’ve taken care of this himself, but you had gotten here first.

“Are you kidding?” He nearly squeaked. “That was amazing, oh my god! I can’t believe we haven’t met until now.” Your cheeks blaze slightly under your mask from his praise, you’ve never had a superhero compliment you before. You adjust your focus back to the men quickly, who seem to be thinking of a way to run.

Your eyes meet Spidey’s again. “You wanna web ‘em up?” He nods excitedly, his eyes finally breaking from yours as he jumps into action. As impressed as he was by you, you couldn’t help but watch in awe as he swings around the room and with a thwick, he webs all of the men together in a cocoon, hanging upside down from the chandelier of the bank ceiling.

He swings himself one last time to land next to you again. “Cool.” You say before you can even realize your mouth is open. “I mean, you’re not too bad yourself.” He bows his head a bit, seeming shy even though it was a half-compliment to cover up your embarrassment.

“Sorry to bust in on your fight,” He says, glancing around the room towards the two terrified employees staring at the two of you in shock. “Not a lot happening tonight, and I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ugh, I know.” You agree. “Not to complain about less crime, but our jobs have been a little bit too easy this past week.” His mask crinkles as he smiles.

“We could...work together sometime if you wanted too, of course.” He says nervously, nearly stuttering on his words. “It’s just, you’re really good and you seem really cool and I-”

You interrupt his word vomit. “Of course I want to! I’ve been wondering when we would meet.” His eyes move from staring at the eye holes in your mask down to your lips when you smile. “How’s tomorrow?”

“How’s right now?” You don’t think your smile can get wider. “One sec.” He holds up a finger before quickly running over to the two bank workers, who thank you both over and over and then they both hugged him. You were wrong, your smile grows and remains goofy and big as he runs back over to you. “Let’s go.”

That night you found out that your view of the city is 100 times better when you can also see a red and blue suit swinging from building to building out of the corner of your eye.

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