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writersdrug · 1 day

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omg! I read your goth reader x Simon and I’m not sure if you’ve already made a post but I’d love to see how Simon met reader or how he did pull her 😂😂 love it btw

Augh I've wanted to write more for Simon x Goth!Reader

He drops the 3-pack of men's black t-shirts on the counter, digging into his sweatshirt pocket for his wallet. He takes out his card and looks up.

You're sitting with your back to him, hunched over on a small stool with your face stuck in a mirror. He can see your one eye magnified in the reflection as you held your cheek taught, slowly dragging an eyeliner pen across your lid.

He stands there another moment, wondering if you even know he's behind you. He politely clears his throat.

"One sec." You say, concentrating hard on making the line perfect. You have your mouth hanging open, your one eye closed and the other wide as a dinner plate. Simon huffs quietly. You remind him of a zombie, dressed in a typical retail uniform.

You eventually put the eyeliner pen down and stand, grabbing the shirts from the counter. He watches you as you scan the item - only one of your eyes are done, beautifully enhanced with an artistic flourish of eyeliner, mascara, and eye shadow; your other eye is untouched.

"Is that all?" You ask, looking up at him, and he has to stifle a laugh. Thank goodness for his balaclava.

"Yea." He responds, sticking his card into the reader. You bag his shirts and hand them to him - he accepts the bag and puts his card back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Receipt?"

"No thanks."

You nod - he stays there, staring at you with a rather blank expression. You purse your lips and tap the counter, adverting your gaze to anything but him. You were used to getting stares because of your makeup, but this guy in particular wasn't even subtle about it.

"Is that all?" He says, jutting his chin towards you.

You blink, staring back at him. Does he mean my makeup? "Oh- heh, no. Still gotta do my other eye."

He nods. "Looks good."

"Thanks..." You say. You're not sure if he's being honest or sarcastic. But before you have the chance to question it, he turns on his heel and walks out the door, the bell clanging behind him.

You shrug to yourself and sit back down, digging inside your makeup bag for a brow pencil.

You're uncapping your lipstick when someone slaps something on the counter - not aggressively, but it still makes you jump. You turn around to find that same guy from last week, the one with the balaclava and the moody eyes.

You head to the register and look down. There's another pack of black shirts on the counter. You scoff and look up at him. "More? What, are you eating these?" You say as you scan them.

"See you finished your other eye." Simon grumbles, pulling his card from his wallet. "Did it take ya the whole week?"

You glare at him, shoving his shirts into a bag. "It did." You say sarcastically, and he grunts, taking the bag as you hand it to him.

Simon watches as you turn to the side, assuming he was already on his way out the door. You popped the cap off your lipstick and parted your lips in front of the tiny mirror on the counter - he felt something akin to surprise when your lips were smeared in black, rather than the red he was expecting.

You feel a pair of eyes on your back. You turn around - that guy is still there, and you fight back a frown.

"Can I help you with anything else?" You say, trying to stress the weirdness of the situation in your tone.

"I like this." He says, using his free hand to circle his face. "Looks good on you. Unique."

You smile, genuinely pleased with the compliment. Most of the time, if people (other than your friends) weren't ogling at you, they were saying how strange and "ugly" your makeup looked (this was a common comment among the older ladies that came to the store).

"Thanks." You reply. "You want a makeover?"

Simon chuckles quietly. "Nah, not really." And then, as quick as he came, he's gone again - out the door before you can even try to carry a conversation with him.

Simon comes back the next week - this time, for a pack of smokes and some new gloves. Uncharacteristically, he finds himself a little excited to see you again, despite never saying more than fifty words to you in total. He gets to the counter and places his items down - his heart sinks a bit when he isn't greeted by you and your half-finished goth makeup.

An older lady steps forward and scans his items. "Do you have a rewards card with us?"

"No."

Would you like to sigh up for one?"

"No."

She doesn't even look at him as she slides the cigs and glives back to him. "Fifteen twenty-seven."

He slides his card in. He can't help but wonder where you might be; not that he misses you or anything, he's just a curious man. He doesn't like not knowing things, and you're a rather difficult, raven-haired puzzle to decipher.

"S'cuse me, but-" he shifts his weight as he pockets his wallet. "Where's the other girl? Y'know, the one with all the-" he waves his hand in front of his face. "She usually works Thursdays."

The woman looks at him with a tight-lipped, glazed-over expression. "I'm not allowed to share any employee's schedule information, sir." She drones in a monotone, customer service voice.

He blinks for a moment, wracking his brain for a response. "I'm 'er uncle."

"Oh - she quit."

"Really?" Simon says - he's rather upset that you, an artistically-talented cashier he's met twice, is no longer employed at the lackluster retail store. "What happened?"

"Manager told her all that shit had to go." She leans her hip against the counter. "All that ugly face paint - it was freaking the customers out. She threw a hissy fit and stormed out."

He hummed, thiugh he took what she said with a grain of salt. "Right. Thanks." He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The woman sighs. "I mean, people paint themselves to look like the devil and expect to be treated like a normal human. Is that crazy, or am I just old?"

Just an old hag. "Dunno." He shrugs.

"Oh-" she holds up a finger, signaling for him to wait as she meanders to the end of the counter. She grabs an envelope and comes back to the cash register, handing it to Simon. "Give this to your niece. She never came back for her last paycheck."

He hesitates, wondering if he should make up some excuse like "Oh I'll tell her to pick it up." But, he said he was her uncle - now he has to deal with the responsibilities of it. He takes the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his sweatshirt. Nodding towards the lady. "I'll make sure she gets it."

Simon hasn't tracked you down yet. Truthfully, he hasn't realy tried to; he wants to respect your privacy and chose not to look for you on social media - but he does frequent the restaraunt across the street from your old workplace, hoping to catch you if you ever decided to come back for your check. He's getting worried at this point - what if you show up and he doesn't see you, and then you start freaking out about getting your paycheck stolen by some random guy? That would be the highlight of his vacation leave. He isn't sure if Price would bail him out of jail for that one.

He's inside the restaraunt today, sitting in a booth and sipping on a mug of tea. Rain pelts against the windows, providing a background of white noise to his ever-active mind. He scrolls through his email on his phone, but as always, he's focused on work. The briefing doming up within the next week, that sergeant that failed the sniper placement, having to listen to Soap talk about how he spent his leave with his girl... it muddled around in his head, nothing staying in the forefront of his mind, but never dissipating, either.

He hears the door open, just as a peal of lighning crashes through the sky. Someone stomps their boots on the entry mat a ways behind Simon, and he hears the jingle of metal with each step towards the bar.

"I'm here for an interview."

Simon nearly snaps his neck with ho hard he turns his head. There you are - you've got your hair down, definitely not as teased as the last time he had seen you. Your makeup is less goth, although you've outlined your lips with a black liner that fades inwards to a crimson red, and your eyes are still sharp and smokey. You're wearing black jeans and a deep, red top, and an interesting pair of boots, decorated with small chains and studs.

Professional, but still incorporating your style. He can appreciate that.

Someone comes out from the back and walks over to you - you shake his extended hand with a smile, and he leads you to a booth farther away from Simon. He thinks he must look like a creep, staring at you in broad (rainy) daylight, but he can't help himself. He doesn't even know why, but you've got his attention like the moon pulls the waves of the ocean.

He stays there for a while - he can't hear every word you say, but he eats the comments and laughs that do filter through with a hungry mind. You sometimes model for any Goth-forward magazines; you're relieved that the owner of the restaurant doesn't care about toning down your style; you're honest - your roommate hadn't paid rent for a month and a half so you let them go, and now you need a little bit more cash than what a measly retail job can provide.

He can hear it in the man's tone: you're hired. He likes your forwardness and unique charm, and frankly, so does Simon. He's addicted to it. The last time anything had his attention like this was when he found out Gaz could do the splits - the shock factor had him surprised with how easily it truly wis to distract him when he comes across something so unusual. But this time, there was less of a ridiculousness, and more of an admiration.

He hears a lilt in the conversation; he turns to see you standing with an excited smile. Of course you would get the job, just look at you. You shake the owner's hand and grab your bag, a black canvas ine with all sorts of studs and spikes, and start heading towards the front door.

Simon can't let you slip away that easily.

"Movin' on from retail?" He says as you pass his booth.

You turn, looking confused, staring at him for a moment. It takes a few seconds before you recognize him, though your smile still holds some wariness to it. "Hey, weirdo...!" You say, standing next to his table. "You stalking me or something?"

He decides to be honest. "Was tryin'."

You furrow your brow an bit, your hands curling around the strap of your bag. "You were?"

"The clerk from the store gave me your check." He clarifies, pulling the envelope from his pocket. "Figured you weren't comin' 'round anytime to get it, so I tried lookin' for ya."

You wonder how this man was somehow able to get your paycheck, but you were a little less put-off. He seemed nice enough. You dropped your bag on the table and took the envelope, shoving it somewhere in your disorganized pockets. "You waiting on someone?" You ask.

"Was you." He comments, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Now, no one." God, he must look pathetic.

"Nice." You slide into the opposite side of the booth, your boots clacking against the legs of the tables. "Want another round? Some fries?" You look at him with those shadowed, big eyes, and he wants to keep you in this booth with him forever.

He chuckles. "You really don't-"

"Don't tell me what to do." You snap with a smirk. "Just choose. Drink, or fries? Or whatever you want, really. I haven't eaten lunch, and you look like interesting company."

He feels himself melting at your cocky, triumphant smirk as you dig around in your bag for your wallet. What did he do for life to deposit such a pretty thing right in his lap (we'll, a few feet away from it)? "Could go for a burger.

You smile, relaxing into the polyester seat. This big, quiet, lumbering thing has you intrigued, and apparently, the feeling is mutual. "What's your name?"

He smirks. He's not wearing his balaclava, but he doesn't really care about that at the moment. He takes a sip of his whiskey. "Simon. Yours?"

#ghost x goth reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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animeyanderelover · 3 days

Text

I already did this concept with Dazai in those Hc's so I will not add him in here again.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, blackmailing, bribing, paranoia, attempted murder in Nikolai's part, isolation, abduction, death of reader in their previous world

Tags: @shumidehiro @izanami78 @leveyani

Isekai'd into their world

Nakahara Cuuya

🟠Bullshit! That’s the initial reaction that Chuuya has when he finds out. There’s a limit to how much he is willing to believe even though throughout his life he has seen some things you’d have to witness with your own eyes to believe in them. It is true that there is nothing about your past he has been able to dig up as your life has seemingly started the moment you were discovered by an elderly couple on the streets. You’ve always claimed that you couldn’t remember anything before you where found and since there has been nothing the police was able to find out about your past, they gave up on the case as you were slowly assisted into society. Chuuya doesn’t believe your claims though that you suffer from amnesia. He might be hotheaded but he’s been working for the Port Mafia for years now, has even been made an Executive. The one skill you develop in this position is to get a fairly good read on the person in front of you, on their body language as well as on whether or not they speak the truth or not. So whilst he has no solid proof about whether you lie to him or not, there is this intuition that he has in his guts that there is something you are hiding.

🟠His overprotective and paranoid thoughts tend to spiral so his first assumption is that maybe there is someone after you and that you’re on the run. If that is the case you don’t have to worry. Chuuya can and will provide protection if someone is after your life. The longer you remain silent about your past, the more impatient he grows. Chuuya hasn’t always been honest to you either, especially regarding his position in the Port Mafia. But you needlessly fuel his anxiety as you don’t reveal anything, only feeding his paranoid thoughts as he wonders what you could hide that is so atrocious that you don’t even want your lover to know. Yet when you tell him the truth finally, sensing that he is close to snapping, he gets mad at you. Are you mocking him?! Don’t lie to him now! He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe you until you see yourself forced to reveal everything you know about him. You know about Sheep, about Arahabaki, about the Port Mafia and about so much more. Only then does he believe you. The truth did not ease his worries though. No, instead Chuuya feels betrayed. Betrayed that you have known everything about him from the very beginning.

🟠He can’t hide. He can’t pretend anymore either. What’s the use? You know everything about him. With no facade to hide anything anymore Chuuya grows weirdly aggressive yet vulnerable. He doesn’t know how he should deal with this situation where he had no control over what he reveals about you and what not. It is fucking weird to know that in your world he doesn’t even exist and is instead a fictional character. What do you even think about him when he stands in front of you? Do you even see him as a real person? With really nothing to lose anymore Chuuya just abducts you then and there, unable to come up with another solution on how to handle this situation. Obviously he doesn’t tell anyone else about you though as he himself has to properly come to terms with the truth. As heavy as the feeling of betrayal sits though, there’s also desperation and paranoia. Desperation because he feels like he deserves to find out more about you as well since you already know far too much about him and paranoia now that he understands that you’ve died before in your world. You can’t be fine after all that happened, right? He’s going to help you.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🍎Fyodor has always deemed you to be someone who stands out from the common crowd, for reasons he doesn’t understand either. Perhaps it is because your eyes perceive what others can’t see as he will never forget his first encounter with you. The glimpse of pure fear in your eyes as you gazed at him, seeing the demon disguised as a man. The way your body flinched away from his touch as he reached out to you, sensing the doom that would befall you the moment he’d feel your body. Only very few people have ever been able to realise him for the higher being that he is and it is the fact that a common sinner like you sees right through him upon first meeting him that makes you special. Fyodor tests his theory out only once by cornering you, giving you no chance to hide behind others as you are left alone with him. The sadist in him is relishing in the untarnished fear he sees in your eyes, purple orbs gazing at you as you slowly move away from him. He doesn’t follow you but he doesn’t have to. You poor thing now can’t run away from him anymore. You’ve dared to catch the devil’s interest and for that you will greatly suffer for Fyodor only knows how to take and destroy.

🍎It is when he figures out that you have no past that you only deepen his obsession. It’s intriguing. No past sins to judge you by, no trace of an existence stained in impurity before you appeared in this city. No matter how much research Fyodor does, he’s unable to figure you out. You’re a mystery to him, to a messenger of God. Oh, it is indeed a dangerous game you are playing. What could you be possibly hiding from him that is so forbidden that not even he can know? It’s like you’re trying to trigger him and it is this lack of control, the inability to cast divine judgment upon you as you are incomplete without a past to hold you accountable for that leads Fyodor to do something he normally never does. He rushes the process slightly, lures you faster into the spider’s web until you are trapped. The first thing he asks of you to confess is your past, the one thing he can’t find out about you. What are you? Are you a sinner or are you something more? No normal human should be able to deprive him of information he can always gather. The time for your confession has finally come, the day of your judgement has at last arrived. Now then you little mouse, confess.

🍎If only you would know how much you fuel his obsession the moment you are forced to reveal the truth to Fyodor. A sinner always pays with death to free them of their sins yet you have already died in your own world before you were brought to his own. You are free, or at least freer, of sins than anyone else on this planet. So before this world can ruin you once more he is going to isolate you, to shield you from the impurities of this world. After all it is the duty of an angel to bring salvation to those who are worthy. Now he also understands why you were so afraid the moment you saw him. What was the first time for him to ever meet you was after all only the first time for you officially meeting him as you had seen him multiple times before as nothing more than a fictional character in your own world. Maybe there is a scientific explanation of how it is possible for you to be transported into a world that was only fictional in your old reality but Fyodor pushes another agenda onto you. Have you ever considered it to be the will of a higher being? Have you ever considered it to be a second chance given to you? Don’t you worry too much. He will help you flourish in this world.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️BadumBadumBadumBadum. The melody of your heart when Jouno finds you one day stranded in an alleyway is certainly a good indicator of the fear and the anxiety currently swirling around inside your mind. Be assured though, he is here to help the little wounded puppy he's found himself right now. You'll just have to tell him who you are and where you are from and he'll get you safely back. That is at least the plan, the only problem is that you refuse his help. Hmm, that is strange. You're acting a bit suspicious, you know? Your little heart is telling him that his appearance seems to have only increased whatever stress you've already felt before. Is there something you're trying to hide from him? Even though his eyes are not able to perceive you, you don't strike Jouno as someone who has done something wrong that would force him to take actions against you. Still, he interrogates you, at least until he has gotten his confirmation that you haven't done anything criminal nor plan to do so. Technically that should be enough yet your heartbeat still hasn't calmed down. He's the reason. You're afraid of him. A reaction that usually only the bad guys have when seeing him.

♦️The Hunting Dogs are heroes even internationally, normally citizens like you rejoice when seeing him. There are still things he'd like to ask you but you actually seem to gather some courage, tell him shortly that he has no reason to keep you trapped any longer since he has gotten his comfirmation. He isn't exactly pleased with the tone you use but he lets you go, though he's still quite dissatisfied with what he has gotten. As if fate is smiling down upon him though he soon has the pleasure to meet you again. You're still as close-lipped as the first time he met you but since he has now figured out where you work he decides to make acquaintances with your co-workers who are far more talkative. He can sense you standing there in the corner, your heartbeat going crazy as they tell him that you've recently started working here and haven't told them much about your past either. So you really just keep it a secret from anyone. That only makes him more curious, you know? With his position it is relatively easy to gather intel on you though it is when he is served with little to nothing that he truly starts realising that you must carry quite the secret around.

♦️That is the kickstart of his obsession as he wants to figure out what it is you are hiding. What is the dark secret you don't want anyone to know about? His only clue lies in you and so he torments you with his visits, constantly attempting to guess what it is you are hiding only to never figure it out. How could he have known that you died in your previous life only to be reincarnated into a world that was purely fictional in your old world? It is after the abduction that you are left with no choice but to spill out the truth and as much as he would like to ridicule you for such an otherwise blatant lie, your heart is not lying. You're actually speaking the truth. And Jouno doesn't know how to reply to that, just staring at you with a furrowed face as if considering what the best response or even best reaction is to the truth he has so desperately wanted to know for so long now. You think that you see a glimmer of unease appearing on his face before he suddenly bends down, his hands grasping your chin. Just how much do you know about him? Even though you are his beloved Saigiku has ever considered revealing too much to you yet perhaps you already know too much, leaving him strangely vulnerable.

Nikolai Gogol

🕊️To Nikolai you have always been entertaining. He has the fondest memories of the both you meeting for the first time, a sentiment you most likely don't share with him. After all it was obvious from the very first encounter that all that you felt for him was dread even though his disguise should have been immaculate, able to fool anyone else. He hides his sinister and twisted character when he needs to do so yet you have seen right through him and it is this seemingly keen intuition of yours that has gotten him so invested in you. Nikolai has never meant for this interest of yours to stay nor to develop into a burning passion that threatens to rip him off the wings he so desperately hopes to obtain. The demon threatening to steal his soul is none other than you, his crooked feelings for you spinning and turning as Nikolai finds himself trapped between two clashing desires. One is to obtain his freedom by murdering you, another one is his desire to keep you and share his sad fate of isolation and oppression due to his own feelings with you. It is a constant inner fight and more than just once has he considered ending your puny life yet there is one factor that ultimately stops him.

🕊️He plans to torment you, to ruin the life you have so carefully built for yourself and the freedom you have in it yet it is the little information he can gather that has him pausing. No family, no friends, no past. You are essentially like a ghost who appeared overnight. He has no past which he could use to chain you down, nothing personal he could hold against you and that knowledge that he can't properly oppress you unless he knows about it torments him and only infuriates him more as if you were indirectly mocking him. Fine, he'll cut the games short then. When you wake up the next time, it is in a little cage with a cheerful Nikolai asking you how you're doing and if you have slept well. That grin only widens and turns into somethin hideous when he sees your eyes overflowing with fear. Yes~ Let that fear corner you and tie you down. Share your suffering with his own. There is still something, you precious dove, that he really needs to know. Only then can he fully drag you down to the bottom of despair with him after all. You need to tell him a bit more about your past. Your family. Your friends. He needs them for his plans. Imagine his surprise when he sees the relief appearing on his face.

🕊️That grin on his face disappears as he realises the truth, even if only for a short moment. It isn't the fact that you are from a different world, it isn't that you died in your previous world either that sobers him down for one or two seconds. It is the realisation that you will always be freer than he will be. There are no family, no friends, no pets he could use to play with and to break you with. There is no information he can obtain about you unless you tell him yet here you are, knowing already so much about him since he was a fictional character in your old world. Half of your wings he will never be able to clip off. For one frightening moment his hands suddenly wrap around your neck and start squeezing down with enough force to have you gasping and choking before all of a sudden he lets go, leaving you to cough for air. When he bends down he has put on that playful appearance once more, whispering to you that it's still too early for you to die. He must say, you managed to catch him off guard for a moment there but that's alright. If things are more difficult there are more entertaining after all. He will make sure to plug every single feather off of your wings until you're just as broken as him.

#yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere chuuya #yandere nakahara chuuya #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere jouno #yandere jouno saigiku #yandere nikolai #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #jouno x reader #nikolai x reader

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suhkusa · 3 days

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As you weave through the crowd of people, there’s only one person on your mind.

The two of you have been talking for a month already, and while you were the one who wanted to take it slow, your feelings were growing stronger by the minute.

If it were anyone else, it might’ve taken a while for you to warm up to him. But you’ve been with Atsumu for most of your life, so there was no need to “get to know him”. Of course, you had your doubts because of his promiscuous past, but at the end of the day you didn’t color him to be the type to commit to a relationship unless he really wanted to.

So that’s why you find yourself looking for the team’s locker room, ready to congratulate him.

But it’s not his voice that stops you in your tracks. You don’t recognize it, so you assume it’s a team mate you’ve never met.

“So, Y/N,” the guy says. And just the mention of your name makes you want to make your presence known. But something holds you back.

Atsumu is the one who replies, “What about her?”

“Did you finally fuck her?”

This could just be normal men’s locker room banter but something about the way he said it is throwing you off. Was it his tone? The word “finally”?

There’s a sound of fabric being moved around before Atsumu laughs with a “Yeah,”

The other guy laughs a bit following his response, “I remember you used to talk about how she was hard to get, so I’m surprised you actually managed to get her,”

If your heart hadn’t sunk yet, it definitely did now.

Atsumu laughs again. At some point you found his laugh endearing, but right now it’s feeding into your hurt.

“I guess your little mission or whatever is complete,”

You tune out the rest of the conversation. You don’t care to hear it, or hear him. You just don’t care.

The tears that had been welling up in your eyes are threatening to spill, but you look up and blink to hold them in. Not right now.

Your legs move to back up but you bump into something— or someone.

“Y/N?”

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — ALL OFFENSE

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

sorry yall

osamu did spend the night

y/n decided not to attend the 2nd day

^ she spent it with her friends telling them what happened

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu angst #hq smau #hq angst #atsumu smau #osamu smau #atsumu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader #raeworks

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 day

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Hi 🙂 could you write a fic about Agatha and Rio both taking an interest in reader and competing for their attention. Who they end up with up to you. Xxx

I got issues w/ wanda stans which ultimately make me hate the character (I don’t want to but you freaks force my hand) by osmosis and I’ll just block you out cuz it’s honestly pathetic to listen to you speak.

You were cute, they both had to admit it, adorable even if they were kind enough to admit aloud. So congrats on being the object of desire of two very powerful and beautiful women. I’m jealous.

Neither Rio nor Agatha were exactly delighted to know that the other was also thriving for your affection and attention. Not. One.bit. They didn’t want to take civil either when it came to you and would boast rather loudly and confidently about how your heart was already taken as their possession.

‘You don’t have a heart to give, so why would you ever delude yourself to the idea that y/n would ever give you theirs on their own terms?’ Agatha said as Rio smirked and shrugged.

‘I do have a heart, it’s black and it beats for them as theirs does for mine, I just have to make them see that even if it means removing you from the picture.’ Rio replied but it only proved to make Agatha cackle as though she was told something funny rather than threatened. She’s had that be the case for a long, long time on multiple different accounts.

‘That’s cute but they were mine from the moment I stepped into Westview during Wanda’s…attempt to play house and acting as their wife,’ Agatha sighs. ‘Let’s just say I was given tastes of them which were sweeter than nectar.’ She smirks when she seeks the smirk on Rio’s lip was wiped off, replaced by a scowl as a perfect visual of jealously and anger overcame the face green witch.

‘Well we’re not in THAT Westview anymore my dearest Agatha,’ Rio began, ‘those memories you may try to hold over my head are long forgotten by them, besides it’s time they moved on with someone with more…potential.’ It was Agatha’s time to look annoyed and angry at Rio as she waves her hand. ‘Bye bye Aggie, we’ll be sure to send the marriage invite.’ She adds sarcastically before leaving.

Agatha, alone in the house she was trapped in for the past three or more years, took a deep breath to compose herself. If Rio wanted you, she’s going have to go through her first, after all you were hers first even if it was under the hex. You were always going to be hers before you were anyone else’s.

Agatha would try to woo you by doing things you supposedly liked during the hex, but once she realises that wasn’t the case anymore and the you in the hex was a charachuer of who you were. She knew that she had some actual work to do in order to win your heart before the black hearted Rio did.

She’d even console in Senior Scratch from time to time, tucking the rabbit in her arms and under her chin as she schemes about how she’s going to swoon you over to her.

‘Flowers did the charm once but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘ don’t make me the other woman in this relationship’ or ‘you chose me once, do that again because it’s the only correct answer.’ Agatha raised the rabbit to her eyes. ‘what do you think? Yay or nah.’

Senior scratch twitched his nose and flicked his ear.

‘You’re right, after Wanda traumatised this town, I doubt it’ll be easy getting to y/n anymore as it is getting a needle out of a haystack, but I’m not going to give them over to her.’ Agatha spat as he mind went to Rio earlier this morning, whispering rather flirty and somewhat vulgar things when told to someone with a particularly filthy mind, into your ear and smiling when you looked at her with wide eyes and a flustered face.

‘You know where to find me sweetheart, so don’t be shy.’ Rio then said as she locked eyes with Agatha as she kissed your cheek, leaving a perfect dark imprint of her lips there for anyone to see.

Rio on the other hand wasn’t afraid to saunter up to you and openly flirt with you while keeping her composure. It came to her as easily as breathing, and besides your reactions always made her smile in accomplishment, so she keeps doing it while handing you a special black rose that she conjured up just for you.

‘What’s this?’you asked.

‘A rose of course.’ Rio replied.

‘I know that but,’ you look from the flower to Rio, ‘what’s the occasion?’

Rio smiled as she walked up close to you, placing her hand over your own as she made you both squeeze the stem of the thornless rose. ‘No occasion, can I not be allowed to gift you something that will never wilt, never die, never look less perfect than the day I plucked it for you.’ Rio answered as she looked deeply into your eyes.

You smiled. ‘Thanks Rio, I promise to treasure it along with the lavenders that Agatha got me.’

Rio’s jaw twitched at the mention of the other witches name but didn’t let her annoyance be shown to you as she smiled tightly. ‘You take gifts from other women now? I’m hurt.’ You chuckled as you rested your hand on her shoulder, cussing a flicker of warmth to flow through her briefly.

‘I didn’t take Rio Vidal to be the jealous type.’ You joked, ‘besides it’s not like I can reject Agatha’s gifts, she can be very convincing.’ You add as Rio internally seethed.

‘Yes, very convincing.’ She chocked out through gritted teeth. Agatha was more of a pain in her ass than she originally thought.

‘Anyways I’ve got to go, Agatha invited me to her house for tea and snacks this afternoon but I’ll see you tomorrow for that abandoned botanical garden you told me about, see you later Rio.’ You bided the green with goodbye as you clutched the black rose to your chest as it emanated a brief green glow.

‘You think you’re winning this fight Agatha, but the wars only just begun.’ Rio spat as she watched Agatha welcome you with open arms, holding you close as she looks at Rio with a look of accomplishment.

‘Come on in dear, I have your favourites ready on the table. Senior Scratch has been missing you as of late.’ Agatha cooed as she booped you on the nose, her hand now sliding to your waist as she guides you into her home that felt familiar and smelled like lavender to ease you into a sense of comfort and warmth.

Who you end up with is up to you. (I’d want both but I’m a sucker for Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza)

#mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #Agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #Agatha harkness imagine #Agatha harkness imagines #rio vidal x reader #Rio Vidal imagine #Rio Vidal imagines #Rio Vidal x you

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tanjamikaelson · 3 days

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UNEXPECTED HEAT | Rafe Cameron x fem!reader |

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you returned to the Outer Banks early, only to find Rafe—an old crush—unexpectedly staying in your home. Seeking solace and a distraction from your heartbreak, you boldly ask Rafe to help you forget your ex.

Warnings: unprotected sex, cheating.

When you decided to leave Sun Valley early and return to the Outer Banks, you were seeking comfort and familiarity. The vacation, meant to be a time to relax with your family and boyfriend, had turned sour after you caught him cheating. It had been a brutal end to what was supposed to be a refreshing escape, and all you could think of was getting back to your friends and the peace of your own space.

The moment you stepped into your house, something felt wrong. The living room wasn’t as you left it—clothes were scattered on the floor, and cushions were tossed haphazardly across the sofa. Your brow furrowed as you scanned the mess. You distinctly remembered tidying everything before you left for the summer, so why did it now look like someone had been living here? Your pulse quickened as your eyes swept over the disarray, unease building in your chest.

You shook off the strange feeling, telling yourself you were being paranoid. Maybe your brother had come home early without telling you. That had to be it, right? Taking a deep breath, you moved through the house towards your bedroom. The familiar creak of the floorboards beneath your feet should have been comforting, but instead, it sent a chill down your spine. When you passed by the guest room, you paused, hearing the unmistakable sound of water running from the shower. Anxiety pricked at your skin.

“Y/BROTHERS/N?” called out hesitantly, moving closer to the bathroom door. The water abruptly shut off, and for a second, your heart felt like it might leap out of your chest. Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay calm. Maybe he really had come back and just forgot to mention it.

You rapped on the bathroom door, trying to keep the nerves from creeping into your voice. "Who's in there?" you demanded, already scanning the room for anything you could use to defend yourself. Your eyes landed on a golf club leaning against the wall, and you quickly grabbed it, holding it up as a makeshift weapon.

There was a long pause, and the door creaked open. You braced yourself, muscles tensing for whatever—or whoever—was behind it.

But it wasn’t an intruder or some stranger.

It was Rafe.

"Rafe?!" You exclaimed, the golf club immediately dropping to your side in shock. The boy you’d had a crush on for years stood in the doorway, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, his skin still glistening from the shower. His chest, all muscle and tan skin, was on full display, and for a moment, your thoughts scrambled. You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting down to his abs, the sight sending an involuntary jolt through you. Your breath caught, and you quickly licked your lips, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You managed to ask, though your voice came out a little shakier than you'd like.

Rafe looked just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. He nervously ran a hand through his wet hair, his eyes flicking around the room as if searching for an answer. "I—I thought your family was at Sun Valley," he finally stammered, clearly not expecting you to walk through the door.

Your brows furrowed as the confusion deepened. "So you thought to move into our house?" you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes, demanding some kind of explanation.

Rafe’s eyes darted everywhere except towards you, his usual confidence replaced by awkwardness. "Yeah… I didn’t have anywhere else to go."

"What do you mean by that?" Your confusion was palpable now, the pieces of the puzzle not fitting together.

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his jaw clenching as if he didn’t want to admit whatever it was he was about to say. "My dad—he kicked me out of the house. So I’ve been staying here. I didn’t think your family would come back so soon."

Your heart softened slightly at the vulnerability in his tone. You had heard stories about Rafe’s complicated relationship with his father, but seeing him like this—uncertain, exposed—it tugged at something deeper within you.

You let out a slow breath, your arms uncrossing as your body relaxed a little. "Well, actually, I came alone."

Rafe shifted on his feet, looking like he was ready to bolt at any moment. "I will leave—" he began, moving towards a duffle bag by the bed, clearly ready to pack up and disappear.

But before he could continue, the words were already spilling out of your mouth. "You don’t have to—"

The sentence hung in the air for a moment, Rafe freezing in place. His head turned towards you, confusion and something else flickering in his eyes.

"I don’t?" He asked, his voice tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying.

"Um, no," you said, your voice coming out steadier than you felt, "Actually, I would like you to stay." A strange surge of confidence swelled within you, and the shift in power was tangible. You smiled lightly, your mind racing with a plan that you hadn’t even realized you were forming until the words left your mouth, a seductive edge creeping into your voice as you locked eyes with him. “But… in return I need you to do something for me.”

Rafe’s eyes brightened slightly, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. He gave you a cautious smile, clearly unsure of where this was heading. "What do you need?" he asked, his tone more confident now as he took a step closer to you. His body language had shifted, too—he was more comfortable, leaning into whatever dynamic was evolving between you two.

You stepped closer to him, heart racing, your mind swimming with thoughts of your ex, your disappointment, and the undeniable attraction that had always been there with Rafe. Your voice lowered, becoming almost a whisper. "I need you…" You took another step closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "I need you to fuck me so I can forget about my ex."

The shock was immediate. Rafe’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly as he struggled to find words. "You… You really want that?" His voice was hoarse, unsure if he’d heard you correctly.

You nodded, your lips curling into a smirk as your hand reached out, gripping the towel still wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, Rafe. I want it. Badly."

Before he could react, you tugged the towel free, letting it drop to the floor. Your eyes took in his full length, and your hand wrapped around his thick cock, beginning to pump him slowly, relishing the way his body responded to your touch. You had imagined this moment more times than you could count, and seeing him like this, feeling him like this was even better than you had fantasized.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours as your hand moved up and down his length. His cock twitched and hardened further in your grip, and you couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that bloomed inside you. He was reacting exactly how you wanted him to.

"Faster," Rafe murmured, his voice laced with desire, his gaze never leaving your fingers as they worked him.

You smirked up at him, not needing any further encouragement. A few moments later, you sank to your knees, the anticipation building inside you like a fire. You needed to taste him. You stroked his cock a few more times before leaning in, your tongue flicking out to taste the tip before pulling him into your mouth.

The moment your lips wrapped around him, Rafe groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he gripped your hair, guiding your movements. His body was tense, and you could feel how much he needed this—how much you both did.

"God…" Rafe breathed out, his voice thick with pleasure. "I guess it’s my lucky day."

You smiled around his cock, loving the way he was unraveling beneath your touch. His breathing grew ragged as you took him deeper, and his grip tightened when you swallowed around him, choking slightly but loving every second of his reaction. You could feel him hardening even more inside your mouth, and it sent a thrill through your body.

"Open wider, baby," Rafe whispered, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you further onto his cock. You did as he asked, taking him deeper, letting your throat relax as you swallowed around him.

As his climax neared, you pulled away abruptly, leaving him on edge. The need between your legs was now unbearable. He gently tapped his cock against your cheek as you gasped for air, your eyes meeting his, filled with lust and a newfound power over him.

"Stressful day, huh?" You asked breathlessly, smirking up at him as you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Yeah," Rafe replied, his voice still heavy with lust as he gazed down at you, catching his breath. There was something darker in his eyes now, a need that went beyond simple release. He needed more of you, and you could feel that raw energy radiating off of him.

“How close are you?” You asked, your voice filled with both curiosity and anticipation as you looked up at him.

“Close,” Rafe answered instantly, his eyes narrowing as they focused intently on your face. He looked like he was holding onto control by a thread, his breathing ragged, his muscles tensing and relaxing in time as you ran your tongue along his length. But that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted him fully, entirely. You needed more than just him in your mouth.

Without breaking eye contact, you stopped, watching as the realization crossed his face. His brow furrowed slightly, but before he could say anything, you stood up, your confidence in the situation palpable as you began stripping off your clothes. Each layer hit the floor, revealing more of your skin, and Rafe’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched you.

Once you were completely naked, Rafe didn’t waste any time. He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you roughly against him, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. It was hungry, desperate, filled with the kind of urgency you both felt. His hands roamed your body, squeezing and exploring, while his lips devoured yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

Without warning, Rafe spun you around, pressing your front into the bed. Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands grabbed your hips, pulling your ass up into the air. The cool air hit your exposed skin, heightening every sensation, every touch.

Rafe wasted no time. His fingers slipped between your legs, and the second he felt how wet you were, he let out a low groan. “Shit… You got this wet by sucking me off?” he growled, his voice a rough whisper as his fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow, teasing circles.

A loud moan escaped your lips, your body already aching for him. "Yes, Rafe. Fuck me… Please," you whimpered, pushing your hips back into his hand, craving more of his touch, more of him.

That was all the encouragement Rafe needed.

With one swift motion, he thrust into you from behind, and you cried out at the sudden fullness. His cock filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your whole body tremble with pleasure. Rafe let out a deep groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he set a punishing rhythm, thrusting into you hard and fast.

"Oh my—fuck!" You gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets as Rafe’s thrusts became more powerful, each one hitting deeper than the last.

Rafe’s hands roamed up your body, his palm gliding across your spine, pausing to squeeze your ass before moving up to cup your breasts. He shifted your hair out of the way so he could lean over you, his mouth brushing against your neck, your shoulder, anywhere his lips could reach. His breath was hot against your skin, uneven and ragged as his hips continued to pound into you.

You could feel your insides clenching around him, the pleasure building higher and higher, but you were holding back, trying to prolong the feeling as long as possible.

"Don’t hold back, baby," Rafe whispered into your ear, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down, his hand slipping to your clit once more, giving it another few delicious rubs.

That was all it took. The orgasm hit you hard and fast, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. You buried your face into the bed, muffling your cries of ecstasy as your body trembled beneath him.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his own breathing ragged as he continued to move inside you, his thrusts growing more uneven as he neared his own release. "Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

With one final thrust, Rafe let out a deep groan, his body shuddering as he came, filling you completely. He leaned over you, his sweaty forehead resting against the back of your neck as his chest heaved with each breath. For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, bodies entwined, breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

As you both came down from the high, you panted heavily into the bed, your limbs trembling from the intensity of it all. Slowly, Rafe pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of him. You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath, and Rafe collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to steady himself.

"Thank you for that," You whispered, your voice soft as you turned to look at him.

"I'm not done with you," Rafe vowed, his eyes darkening as he raised an eyebrow at you. "I could feel how neglected that pussy's been." He tsked dramatically, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I do believe I can make up for that, Y/N."

"God, I hope so," You sighed, grinning when he nodded in agreement.

Rafe knelt between your legs, his hands tracing your inner thighs slowly, savoring the sight of you laid out before him. His gaze lingered on your flushed face, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. “You're gorgeous, Y/N," he repeated softly, his voice carrying a reverence that sent warmth through your chest.

His fingers brushed over your sensitive clit, causing you to shudder under his touch. He spread the wetness around, teasing you, drawing out soft gasps as he watched your body respond to him. Every small touch sent shockwaves through you, building the anticipation that pulsed between your legs.

Rafe braced himself with one hand next to your head, his other hand guiding himself to your entrance. He moved slowly, pushing into you with deliberate care. A groan escaped his lips as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming for both of you. His breath was ragged, and you could see the strain on his face as he fought to keep himself in control.

You gasped softly, your hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your touch was gentle, urging him to move without pushing, letting him take his time. Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut as he held still, savoring the feeling of being inside you, the way your body gripped him so perfectly.

When he finally opened his eyes, the intensity in his gaze nearly took your breath away. The need, the desire, the unspoken connection—it was all there, written across his face as he looked down at you.

Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck in an open-mouthed kiss that made you arch beneath him. Then he started to move, slow at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax with each movement, and your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer. His lips found yours, and the kiss was soft, almost tender as if something unspoken was being exchanged between you.

"Faster," You finally whispered against his lips, the need inside you growing unbearable.

Rafe obliged, his pace quickening, each thrust now hitting a spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. Your bodies moved together in perfect sync, every touch, every kiss intensifying the connection between you.

"I’m so close," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the tension built in your core.

"Me too," Rafe groaned, his voice strained as he fought to hold on just a little longer. His thrusts became more urgent, and you could feel the heat coiling in your belly, ready to snap.

When the climax hit, it was overwhelming. Your back arched off the bed, your body convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure. Rafe’s name spilled from your lips in a breathless moan, and as you tightened around him, he followed right behind you, his body shuddering with release.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy breathing of the two of you, your bodies still tangled together, hearts racing in sync. Rafe collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it began to slow.

The reality of what just happened started to sink in, but there was no regret, only a warm, satisfying calm. You felt safe here, in his arms, and maybe that was what you needed most. Not just the distraction from the heartbreak, but the feeling of being wanted, of being cared for.

Rafe turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowed slightly, a question on his lips. "So… you broke up with your boyfriend?" he asked quietly, his voice soft and cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he should bring it up now.

You turned to look at him, nodding as the weight of your break-up settled back into your chest. “Yeah. He cheated on me.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening slightly as he processed what you’d said. "Seriously?" he asked, disbelief coloring his tone. He blinked, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite understand. To him, the idea of anyone cheating on you was unfathomable. You were perfect to him—strong, beautiful, everything he could want.

"Yeah," You said, your voice heavy with sadness as you recalled the memory. "I caught him… and then he confessed it wasn’t the first time."

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with anger at the thought of someone treating you that way. "What a fucking idiot," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. His fingers gently brushed over your arm, comforting and grounding. "He didn’t deserve you."

You smiled, appreciating his words more than you could express. "I thought things would change when we went on vacation together," you explained, your voice tinged with sadness. "But nothing was different. He was still distant."

Rafe shook his head, his anger giving way to something softer, more protective. "Well, his loss," he said, his tone firm, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

You laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah," you murmured, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you said it out loud.

The comfortable silence stretched between you for a moment before you glanced at Rafe, a playful glint in your eye. "You know… I actually liked you way before I ended up in a relationship with him."

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flashing across his face. "You did?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah. You were always hot… especially now." You reached out, your hand brushing over his toned abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingers.

Rafe smiled a genuine, warm smile that made you feel like maybe everything was going to be okay. "You know, if I’d known you felt this way…" he trailed off, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. "I’ve always thought you were… well, you’re amazing. More than amazing."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Really?" you asked, your voice small.

"Really." His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped to a near whisper as his hand moved to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. "I’ve wanted you for a long time."

The confession hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could see the truth in his eyes, and it made something inside you shift, your feelings deepening in ways you hadn’t expected. This wasn’t just about forgetting your ex anymore. It was about something new, something real.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Maybe we can make up for lost time."

Rafe smiled into the kiss, his arms pulling you closer to him as he whispered back, "I’d like that."

The air between you shifted again, the playfulness giving way to something more intimate, more real. This time kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate like before—this kiss was filled with something deeper, and in that moment, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, with a future that suddenly felt a little less uncertain.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #drew starkey #outer banks #obx

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toiletclown · 3 days

Text

breathless. (part two.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

part two of probably 5/6 (i can't stop writing this fic)

summary: to 'train' for an upcoming guitar hero stream, you head to spencer's for the first time in weeks. the tension is thick, and you have to call your best friend, angela, for some input. your feelings were growing to lengths you weren't sure you could handle -- but what other choice do you have?

word count: 2251 (7000+ remaining)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was not fine. The AC in Spencer’s apartment had broken sometime between him going into the office and him coming back home. He sent you a text to let you know, and even offered to bring all his stuff to yours if that was easier, but you knew how many cords and controllers that entailed and told him it was fine, you’d just wear something you’d be comfortable in.

However, you were not prepared for just how warm his apartment was. You came over in a cropped baby tee and some comfy shorts, but you had worn a very thin cardigan over the shirt, hoping it would be thin enough you could keep it on. But alas, the world was constantly against you, and about fifteen minutes into your visit you knew you had to shed the layer. The windows were open but there was no breeze, and the standing fan and ceiling fan were working overtime.

So here you were, standing in Spencer’s living room, attempting to hide your Guitar Hero skills while also trying to hide your discomfort. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why you were uncomfortable. It’s Spencer. He’s seen you in worse. At least this outfit is cute, right? When you finally pulled yourself out of your thoughts, you realized you were beating Spencer in 1v1 by a country mile. What the hell was he doing? You knew he was good at this game, and despite you purposefully missing every few notes and hitting the whammy bar much too late, he was still way, way behind.

You paused the game and turned to look at him. You had been standing in front of the couch, since it was a little harder to play the guitar when sitting down. He, however, was sitting on the couch in gym shorts he had no right to be wearing (They were so short that if he moved one inch the wrong way there would be a problem. Why did he pick such slutty little shorts??) and a Zelda triforce logo tank top. His arms were on full display, along with his gorgeous legs, and you had to admit your words got caught in your throat when you saw him. You hadn’t really looked at him with much precision when you arrived because you were more focused on how warm the apartment was, but now, seeing him with his leg balanced on his knee and the guitar lazily draped in his lap, you were borderline salivating.

“You okay, Peach?” He always called you that, since you had a penchant for snacking on peaches and preferred to play as Princess Peach whenever the two of you played Mario Party or Mario Kart. He never let it slip at work, but a part of you wanted him to. Just to see how someone else would react to it. Would they hear it as a platonic, long-term-friendship type of nickname, or would they pick up on a subtle romantic vibe beneath that? Was it crazy to want that romantic connotation?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Are you, though? I’m not very good at this and I’m still beating your ass. You good over there?” You willed your blush away at his nickname for you, knowing he, realistically, didn’t have any romantic implications behind it. You knew why he called you that, and it made sense. Let’s not think too hard on it, okay? No need to make a romantic mountain out of a friend-shaped mole hill.

Spencer sighed, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finding his words. “Yeah, sorry. The heat is kind of making my brain blank out, I guess.” He stood, pulling the string on his ceiling fan to move it from medium to high speed. You were silently wondering why it wasn’t already on high, but chose not to question him. You also knew he was lying. You’ve been friends with Spencer (on top of having severe unrequited feelings for him) for far too long, and you knew him better than he knew himself. You knew all of his tells, and currently, he was avoiding eye contact and picking at his right thumb, which he always did when he was nervous and/or lying.

You sat down next to him, still leaving some space due to the heat. You were both quite physically affectionate with one another, but lately you had both pulled back in that regard, though neither of you wanted to say anything about it. While he had basically stopped being touchy-feely altogether, you still attempted that contact sometimes. He didn’t react the way he used to.

“Spence, honey, I’ve known you far too long for you to lie to my face. What’s going on?” You voiced your concern with a gentle hand on his thigh, close enough to his knee that it didn’t come across wrong, but also far enough away from his knee that you felt a whoosh in your stomach. It was too late to move it now without him calling you on it, though, so you left it there.

He took a deep breath, seemingly gearing up for a word vomit. But instead he shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just dealing with some… personal stuff, I guess, and I was lost in my head. We can get back to it, I’m sorry, Y/N.” He patted your hand with his, before moving to grab the guitar again and start the game back up. You pulled your hand away, burning, and decided you needed to leave.

“Oh, it’s… it’s okay. I’ll head out, leave you to your thoughts. You can always text me if you need me, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow?” You stood to start gathering your stuff, and you felt Spencer’s eyes on your back as you bent over to pet one of his cats. The cropped tee was definitely showing off more of you than he had seen before, so it was only natural for him to look. But you wondered what he was thinking, too.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry again about the AC being broken. Maintenance should be coming by soon,” Spencer supplied, walking with you to the door. “Hopefully I won’t have to sweat to death for much longer.”

You both laughed, and you held your arms out for a hug. Spencer hesitated, before returning the hug and reassuring you that he’ll see you tomorrow. You offered him a goodbye and told him you loved him, like you both did every time you parted. You didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t say it back this time.

Angela, please help me. You didn’t know who to talk to about this. Your thoughts had been a bubbling mess for hours at this point, and you couldn’t talk to Spencer, and you weren’t quite ready to talk to Courtney about it. Courtney should be your go-to about this situation, but you weren’t sure how to broach it. Hey, you went from coworkers to friends to lovers. How do I do that? wasn’t exactly the best icebreaker to get into the conversation. Angela had heard you vent many times before, and although you never, ever named Spencer in the conversations, you had no doubt that little Italian gremlin knew you were talking about him. Angela was very intuitive and just because you leave a few details out and refuse to use his name in conversation, that doesn’t mean she can’t pick up on everything else. Especially since Erin was clearly picking up on it. Among others.

What an ominous text to receive at 1am. What’s up babe?

Holy fuck, was it that late already? You checked the time and sure enough, it was 1:03am. You’d been in your head for far longer than you thought.

Oh fuck I didn’t even realize it was that late lol my bad queen :(( we can hold off till tmr it’s nbd!

NOPE you’re not pulling that shit, ft me rn

You sighed, but it was near impossible to say no to Angela, so you turned your desk lamp on and hit the FaceTime button. You needed to get this out of your system soon anyway, it was starting to eat at you. With other people seeing it clear as day you felt as though you should probably work your feelings out before Spencer realized.

“Hello there my gorgeous best friend, what’s on your mind?” Angela was clearly in bed, face lit only by her phone and the fairy lights she kept strung up around her room. “Is it Spencer?”

Your face went pale at her question, which answered her for you. “Oh, so it is Spencer! Did you ask him out? Did he ask you out? When’s the wedding? Can I sing at the reception? Oh, that might be weird, right? What would I even sing? Oh, I know–”

“Angela.”

“Sorry, go on.”

She let you ramble on for a few minutes, starting from the beginning. When you were hired and instantly bonded with him. When the movie nights turned to movie sleepovers and the game nights turned to game weekends. When he got promoted to cast, then you got promoted, and suddenly your friendship felt different. The first Erin Dougal meme, the second Erin Dougal meme, and finally, whatever the fuck had happened tonight. The way he was distant, but not cold. The way you could feel his eyes on you, and the two times you caught him “lost in his thoughts” as Erin had phrased it. His lack of response when you told him you loved him tonight. That was what hurt the most. He had never left you hanging when you said it, and he said it more often than you did. At lunch, on set, while watching him play Fortnite. You always reassured each other in every aspect of life. And suddenly, it was like that reassurance and friendship was going dormant.

“I just don’t know what I did wrong, I guess? It seems like out of nowhere we lost our friendship and we’re back to being acquaintances, in a way. He’s not as touchy anymore, and he gets weird when I am. He rarely invites me over anymore. I haven’t stayed the night in months. And he didn’t say he loved me before I left tonight. He’s never not said it back. And like, why? What changed? What did I do wrong?” Once your word salad was out and in the open, Angela sat for a minute, thinking on how she wanted to respond.

“Okay, I have a question before we proceed.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you want me to respond as your best friend or as your coworker?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Only slightly.”

“Then as my best friend, please.” You took a breath in, knowing with this selection came some harsh words. If she was responding as your coworker she would be nothing but kind, but with the best friend response you knew she was going to drag you, hard. But at this point, you needed that, didn’t you?

“Y/N, my sunshine, my flower, my angel. He’s pulled back significantly as of late because he thinks that his feelings for you are one-sided.”

“His–”

“Don’t interrupt me, you clown!”

“Okay!” You laughed along with your friend, knowing that this conversation was going to be hard but it was necessary.

“He sees all these things in a different light because, somewhere in the timeline of your friendship, he got it in his head that you would never reciprocate his feelings. So now, all those things he used to enjoy, almost hurt now. Your touch on his skin is no longer comforting, because he wants more. And he doesn’t think he’s capable of getting that. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he also is having trouble coping with the fact that he doesn’t know if he can ‘just be friends’ with you. Spencer might have held his façade quite well for quite some time, but it’s cracking now and he’s scared. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend, but he also doesn’t want to be strictly friends anymore. He wants to love you openly, and he thinks he can’t do that.”

“Jesus, Angela. How do you even know all this?” You were absorbing her words, letting them flow through you. Spencer thinks his romantic feelings for you are one-sided? Spencer has romantic feelings for you? What the hell is going on, man?

“Because three and a half minutes before you texted me, he also texted me. I was basically reading his text out loud, word-for-word. And before you yell at me for breaking his trust, you are my best friend and I am legally obligated to tell you everything, just like you are legally obligated to tell me everything. Even though you seem to think I can’t parse that the guy you’ve been obsessing and gushing over is Spencer despite your obvious phrasing. You're not as slick as you think, babe.”

You sat in silence for a moment, really trying to let everything sink in. Your feelings weren’t one sided. You had a chance with him. He didn't suddenly dislike you, or hate you, or not enjoy your company. It was just harder now. And that, that you understood, quite thoroughly.

“Ang, how do I unfuck this?”

“I already have a plan for you, Peach.”

You groaned, “Okay, that’s not fair!”

“I know, I know. So here’s what you're going to do…”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

taglist: @lokidokieokie (thanks for being my first ever taglister hehe)

#spencer agnew x reader #richie writes #smosh #smosh x reader #spencer agnew

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hellodragonkit · 3 days

Text

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Opinions and Points.

SPOILERS... obviously.

Ok I watched the movie, and ... some things that are my own personal thoughts and possible points I noticed. And some things I have seen others point out to where this is just my over all opinion and its kinda long.

The backstory lets not forget beetle is a unreliable narrator as proven by the first movie as Julliard and Harvard did not exist while he was alive, and unless he was possessing someone when they graduated its unlikely he said the truth. - so I don't think he gave us the full backstory. Maybe yes he did marry her, but given he never dies on screen and previously stated point. I just find it hard to believe that he drank a poison then had enough strength to chop her up as much as she was, if it was actually effecting him. i find it far more possible he had already been poisoned so often he was immune at that point. and was just pissed his new wife tried to do him in. Also in first movie it was suggested with the red mark he hung himself... maybe he tried to take over the death cult and had to do himself in for a quicker death?

the Newspapper. Yes it did say people were falsely accused of offing themselves at death, I think this was to help clear up the plot hole that would have been with Astrid's dad. And maybe be a red haring for Beetle. Next few points are BeetleBabes related so if you don't like the ship, please move on.

He gave her autonomy in his power. During the therapist scene when he "sewn" her mouth shut, it was less truly sewn and more duct taped. She had the ability to remove it, yeah he had it stick long enough for a gag, but not much more. He didn't force her.

The Contract and Nullification of it. Beetle wrote the contract, and he worked as a dead con man for years, he knew the handbook inside and out. He wrote up the contract for Lydia to sign and save her daughter, knowing there was a Massive Loop hole. even blowing a hole in the "back door" of the Neither to insure the loop hole was as big as it could be the second he had her sign, obviously with a bit of theatrics for both signing and explosions. But would we expect anything else from him?

Delia calling him: when Delia died, she called him asking to go to Lyd's wedding. He did so no questions no strings. Any other deal he always asked for something in return but for Lyd's step mom he didn't charge a dime, possibly because he felt Lyds would be upset if she missed it, and didn't get to say good bye.

Rory Beetle obviously didn't like him, could tell he was scamming Lyds, and yeah he probably could have sent him off but instead had to prove to Lydia why that guy was bad, hence why he used truth serum. He need to make sure she wouldn't go back to that guy once he was gone again. It was even hinted he heard her talking in the graveyard rushing to the church that she was not ready to marry.

He planed to go away. His song at the end, was not one of love and togetherness. MacArthur Park is more of loss and remorse. He was saying Goodbye to Lydia! Not permanently anyway

He set up sending away Deloris and helped the contract become Null When Deloris burst in through the door, the wind didn't effect Lydia, or Beetle, or Delia but the book slid to Astrid as easily as it had moved away, He moved it to her, conveniently on the page to summon sand-worms and how to brake the contract.

He stalled for the cops I find it funny how in the first movie he summoned a Man of the cloth and the guests. But this time he had both, and unlike the first time he wasn't rushing... he took his time to sing a whole song and to let the Neither cops show up, possibly also baiting Deloris to take care of her but I'm still not sure on that bit. ether way He had won, he had Lydia, the pastor, and guests. But instead he did a song and dance, a song that I already pointed out was one more of goodbye.

He let Lydia send him away. Beetle loves to make a entrance, he also may love to make a exit. he has also shown he can silence someone for just saying his name once. But instead of silencing her or taking over her voice as he had before. He started a dramatic plea, showing her he was getting sent away, showing her he was going to let her send him off.

The ending given the fact he may have over heard about Rory, And all the other notes, he could probably see Lydia wasn't wanting marriage at that time. But I also feel... he just likes the chase. What fun would it be if the Coyote already caught the road runner? he didn't mind her sending him away, because it means he could keep trying to get her to call him willingly. Over all this is just my ramblings that I don't have any friends irl who may appreciate them or be able to properly counter lol And if you made it this far thank you. And I hope you liked the movie as much as I did.

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice #lydia #Movie points #movie #possible spoilers #Beetlebabes

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harrywavycurly · 21 hours

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Ohhh sarahhh I’ve been thinking about this all week and it’s just what if Harry was our sugar daddy and we needed something in a time crunch and didn’t tell him?? So we bought it ourselves and he finds out?? But like make it fluffy??🫠🫠🩷

Hiii babes!!! Sugar daddy Harry? I’m listening 👀🤤 also I’ve never written him as a sugar daddy so I went with him just being his regular famous self so hope that’s okay with you? Also the thing you end up buying is the first idea that came to my mind for needing to buy it in a time crunch, hope you enjoy!💖

CW: Mentions of a slight panic attack, talks about money

A/N: You and Harry have a very special relationship and you did something he might not be too happy about, not gonna lie this is a tiny bit dramatic but also fluffy so hope you enjoy✨

You’re anxious, you keep looking at the clock on the stove in your kitchen knowing that any minute now your boyfriend will be walking through your door because it’s Sunday and you and Harry have been spending every Sunday afternoon together since you started dating almost a year ago. It’s the one day a week the two of you don’t make plans and just see where the day takes you, sometimes the two of you end up at the beach soaking up some sun while reading or sometimes you don’t even leave your apartment and just enjoy each others company. But today you’re on edge because you did something the day before that might have the man that’s usually all dimpled grins and soft loving gazes when it comes to you to be a little mad or upset with you when he finds out. Because that’s the thing, you know he’s going to find out because you’re going to tell him but you just don’t know when because Harry looks forward to his Sunday afternoons with you and you just don’t want to ruin the day for him.

It’s not as if you did something so wrong that he’ll be angry, Harry very rarely gets angry especially with you. The issue is that your relationship with Harry isn’t like any other relationship you’ve been in before and it oddly enough has nothing to do with the fact he’s Harry Styles, a world famous musician, it has to do with the fact Harry enjoys paying for everything. When you met him almost a year ago you didn’t even expect him to even notice you in the crowded bar let alone find you interesting enough to want to ask for your phone number but he did. It was around your fourth date with him that he decided to let you know exactly what he was looking for because he could tell he was already starting to like you so it would be better to put everything out in the open so you could tell him if this was something you would even be interested in.

You knew Harry had money, even if you didn’t know who he was you would’ve been able to tell simply by the way he dressed and the cars he drove when he felt like driving himself and not calling for his personal driver or by the expensive dates he took you on. You just never thought he would be looking for someone to spend his money on because you were used to men wanting you to contribute to paying for things in someway such as covering the bill on some dates or paying for gas when you’d go on road trips so Harry telling you he was looking for someone to dote on and spoil in terms of money took you by surprise. He made it a point to explain that aside from the money aspect of things, everything else he wanted in a relationship was pretty normal or as normal as he could offer due to his sometimes hectic lifestyle. But it was an easy decision to make because you liked Harry and wanted to see where this could go so you told him you were happy to give it a go and the smile he gave you was all the reassurance you needed that you made the right choice.

Harry told you he’d be patient with you as this type of relationship can take time to get used to and patient he was, he would just give you a playful glare and softly pinch your elbow when you’d reach for your wallet at the checkout of a store or sometimes he would simply distract you with a hand on the side of your neck pulling you in for a kiss that would leave you breathless and your mind a bit of a muddled mess letting him quickly place his card down without you noticing. You learned that Harry not only wanted to pay for things he knew you considered luxury items such as a new Gucci bag or some designer sunglasses but he got the most joy out of buying you things you actually needed such as your weekly groceries or your rent, that being the latest thing he was adamant on wanting to take over for you.

Harry’s whole thing with wanting to pay for everything is that it not only makes your life a little less stressful but it makes him feel needed. Harry has explained that at the end of the day that’s really what he craves the most, knowing that you actually need him and that’s just his personality, he has this desire to be wanted and needed by you so much that money is actually a small but still important part of it all. So when he finds out what you did while he won’t be angry, you can’t help but think he will be a little annoyed and upset with you.

“Hey baby.” Harry’s arms wrapping around your waist makes you jump the tinniest bit having not heard him even come in due to being lost in your thoughts. “You okay?” He asks as he places his lips to the side of your head while he pulls you closer so your back is flush with his chest.

“I’m good yeah I just didn’t hear you come in.” You explain as you bring your hands up and place them over his. He just hums in response as he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck making you smile. “What did you want to do today?” You ask as he loosens his hold on your waist and gives your neck a soft kiss before lifting his head allowing you to turn around in his arms.

“There she is.” You smile as Harry looks down at you with a soft smile as his bright eyes slowly roam over your face before they land on yours and you don’t miss the way the corners of Harry’s mouth twitch as he fights back a smirk when you feel your cheeks get warm, because even after almost a year you still find yourself getting flustered when he stares at you. “How was your day with the girls? Didn’t get into too much trouble did you love?” You feel your anxiousness begin to resurface at the mention of yesterday causing you to look away from him and wiggle out of his hold so you can walk towards your fridge and pull out a bottle of water.

“Uhm it was-” You start to explain as you go to turn around so your back is facing the fridge but Harry is already standing in front of you making your words get lost in your throat, his facial expression is one of confusion but also worry as he takes the bottle from your hands so he can place it on the counter behind him before turning his attention back to you.

“What happened?” You want to melt at how concerned he sounds but all you do is feel a sense of guilt for causing him to worry, you look down at your feet but he only allows it for a moment before his index finger is under your chin gently tilting your head up so you’re looking at him. “What happened baby? Did someone do-”

“No no it’s nothing like that I just.” You mentally curse yourself when you feel a familiar stinging at the back of your eyes and a lump forming in your throat. “I don’t want to make you upset because you’re so good to me-I didn’t think I just did it and I know we have rules for this but I just forgot about it and then I was in a rush and and I panicked I’m sorry I’m so sor-” Harry’s hands cupping the sides of your face as he bends his knees a bit so he’s eye level with you brings your rambling to a stop as his thumbs ever so gently wipe away the few tears that escape when you blink at him a few times.

“Sweetheart I need you to take a few deep breaths for me okay?” Harry’s voice is soothing but with the smallest hint of sternness that he knows you need in moments like this so you’ll be more inclined to do what he asks. “Breathe in,” you mimic him as he takes a deep breath and holds it a few seconds. “Good girl now let it out but slowly.” He smiles when you slowly breathe out and repeat that process a few more times before you feel your heartbeat begin to go back to normal as he unbends his knees and stands up straighter and you just swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes look down at Harry’s forearms only to see your hands tightly wrapped around them in an attempt to feel grounded to something.

“Look at me please.” You instantly snap your eyes up to meet his stare, the soft smile he gives you makes your heart flutter in your chest. “What’s got you so worked up hmm?” He asks before he leans down and presses his lips against your forehead making you let out a sigh at his comforting gesture.

“I bought something last night that was expensive and I did it without even bringing it up to you.” You want to close your eyes so you don’t have to see his reaction to your confession but you don’t, you just watch him slowly nod his head but when you don’t elaborate further he quirks a brow at you.

“Is that it?” The way he calmly asks the question takes you by surprise, so you drop your hands from his forearms and Harry knows you’re going to try to get out of his grasp so he drops his hands from your face and quickly wraps them around your wrists. “What did you buy?” He asks as you stare at him with a look of almost disbelief on your face making Harry just tilt his head to the side a bit as he waits for you to answer.

“Concert tickets uh are you-you not mad at me?” Harry can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him as he shakes his head at you.

“Mad? No baby I’m not mad at you.” He can’t help but feel a little bad for somehow giving you the impression that you buying something without telling him would cause him to be mad at you resulting in you almost having a full on panic attack while trying to tell him about it.

“I used my own money and everything though and I know we have rules-”

“And what are those rules love?” You watch with slightly wide eyes as Harry brings your hands up to his lips as he asks you the question, you feel his lips on your knuckles as he patiently waits for you to recite the rules to him.

“I’m not supposed to spend my own money unless we talked about it before hand.” Your voice isn’t as shaky as you tell Harry the main rule the two of you have regarding money, he just smiles and nods as he lets go of your wrists so he can place his hands on your hips.

“And did we talk about these concert tickets?” You slowly shake your head as you place your palms flat against Harry’s chest feeling the soft material of his worn out t shirt. “Are you sure? You don’t normally break the rules love so just tell me what happened.” The deepness of his voice makes you relax as you feel his hands give your hips a little squeeze encouraging you to speak.

“I don’t think we did? I just forgot they were going on sale and then I got the email about it so without really thinking I got online and then I was in the ticket queue for like half an hour and then my card was the only one saved and I only had five minutes to complete the checkout so I just-”

“Panicked?”

“Yes.” You can’t really say much else because it’s the truth, you were in a rush and in the moment you didn’t think to even call Harry because what if by the time he gave you his card information the timer went out? Then you’d have to do the whole process all over again and it was already stressful.

“You have one of my cards in your wallet baby why didn’t you just use that to buy them?” He’s not asking in a mean way he’s just genuinely curious as to why you didn’t try to use the card you carry around with you.

“Well that’s the uh other thing.” Harry already knows what you’re going to say before you say it so he just lets out a sigh and shakes his head playfully at you.

“You left it at your friend’s house didn’t you?” When you just nod your head at him he lets out a breathy laugh as one of his hands comes up to the side of your neck. “What am I going to do with you?” You still find yourself in a bit of shock that he’s not mad or even a little annoyed with you so you just shrug and look at his chest where his cross pendant lays against his shirt.

“If it uhm makes you feel better I got really crappy seats.” Harry lets out a scoff making you look at him as your hands go from his chest to the tops of his shoulders.

“Why would that make me feel better?” You feel him pull you a little closer as he leans back against your counter.

“Because I broke the rules so it can be my punishment?” Harry rubs his lips together as it all begins to click for him what exactly is going on in your mind. When the two of you first started dating he knew you were new to this type of situation but he’s not quite sure where along the lines he gave you the impression that if you broke a rule that you were going to be reprimanded for it because when it comes to you Harry doesn’t think he has it in him to punish you, especially in a way that would make you unhappy.

“Rules can get broken every now and then love it’s okay.” He explains as his hands slide from your hips to your lower back. “I don’t want you to think you’re going to be punished when it happens though because that’s not how this works.” You feel his hands slowly begin to run up and down your back making you relax under his touch. “I do things for you to make your life a little easier but I also just want to make you happy because that’s what makes me happy.” His tone is extra soft as he reminds you why he does the things he does for you.

“You make me very happy.” Harry smiles at your words as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“Good.” Is all he says before you feel his lips on yours making your hands go from his shoulders to the back of his neck pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. “You know I’m not going to let you keep your shitty seats right? I’m going to have to fix that.” He tells you when he finally pulls away and you just nod because of course Harry isn’t going to let you go to a concert and have bad seats.

“Okay.”

“Where is the show at?”

“The Forum.”

“Oh really? I’m sort of familiar with that venue.” You just playfully roll your eyes at Harry’s teasing tone making him laugh as he leans down and places a kiss to your cheek. “Where are your seats?”

“Uh section 233.” Harry nods as you begin playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “I got four tickets.”

“Am I invited?” He asks with a playful smirk and you just nod. “And you wanted me to sit in a shitty seat?” He jokes as you bring your hands from around his neck to try to hide your face making Harry laugh as your cheeks get warm from embarrassment. “Just give me the details and I’ll handle it baby.” He wraps his hands around your wrists so he can pull your hands away from your face.

“Okay.” You say with a nod while Harry gives you a warm smile. “Can we have a lazy day?” You ask expecting him to just nod and pull you into his arms so he can hold you a bit but to your surprise he shakes his head as he stands up and drops your hands from his.

“Sorry love we have a few errands to run.” You raise an eyebrow as he grabs one of your hands and interlocks his fingers with yours before leading you out of the kitchen and towards your front door. “Firstly we need to go get your wallet and then I’m thinking a little shopping?” The mention of shopping lets you know this is Harry’s way of getting to spend money on you to sort of make up for the money you spent yesterday but you also won’t be surprised if later in the week he sends you the amount you spent on the tickets to put back into your account.

“Then we can cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?” Harry turns to look at you before he grabs his keys from the table by your front door, he can’t help the grin that takes over his face at how adorable you look standing there asking him for a cuddle.

“Yes then we can have a cuddle.” He answers before he leans in and places a quick kiss to your lips making you smile. “I love you sweetheart you know that right?” You nod as he gives your hand a nice squeeze.

“I know and I love you too.” He can’t help himself when he steals another kiss from you making you giggle when he pulls away.

“Good now let’s get going.”

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servicpop · 5 hours

Text

obsessive ( nsfw ) obsessive toji f. x oblivious bttm male reader

Toji hated how oblivious you were.

You could run your pretty little mouth to a cafe worker and overlook the yearning in their eyes, or you would turn a blind eye to when your co-worker at your part-time job asks so blatantly for your number, but you just disregard it as just so you could be called in when they call sick.

He doesn't say anything about it, not when you two are out getting drinks — since it was your payday — and he sees a girl approach you, batting her eyelashes blotted black with mascara and throwing meaningless compliments at you. He only glares, his hand slipped around your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there as if he was voicing his complaints through actions.

But of course you brush him off, saying something along the lines of 'she probably wants to be friends,' which undoubtedly ticks him off.

A smile, however, graces his scarred lips when he sees the girl's eyes flicker to the hand around your sides and backs off ever so slightly and he swears he would never but he most definitely flipped her off while your attention was on her.

When your drinks were finally done, the worker handed it to you, and god did Toji almost throw a straight punch when he saw your fingers brush together. Why was everyone gunning for you? When he first started going out with you, he simply assumed that no one would dare come close because of his looks, but now, people didn't even look in his direction, only yours.

"You're like a fucking angel," He grunted under his breath, placing the paper straw that would eventually disintegrate from him chewing on it inbetween his lips to take a sip. You turn your head to ask him what he said, not being able to hear it through the rumble of his voice, but he replies with a blunt, "nothing."

Throughout your whole 'date,' Toji was just getting increasingly pissed off about the whole ordeal. Guys and girls were approaching you, trying to start up a conversation, and as the sweet little oblivious boy you were, you'd engage, which always ended in Toji having to scare them away with a glare and a hand wrapped around you.

The ride home was fairly quiet; Toji wasn't a man of many words but he couldn't shake off the jealousy that he desperately wanted to bury. His fingers brushed against his scarred lips, a habit he's adopted over the years, and his leg bounced repetitively before the words just spilt out from his mouth like gates opening. "Does it not bother you?" he speaks in a rather hushed tone, almost like he's trying to restrain the jealousy in his voice.

"Bother me how?" You question, getting out from your seat once you've reached your home. Toji is left trailing after you like a stray dog while the key chains on your keys clink together as you unlock your front door.

"When people are always coming up to you," Toji grumbles, extending an arm above your head to hold the door open for you. "They're interested in you, can't you see that?" His hands find their way to rest on your waist and he pulls your back to his chest. "I'm right here and you still wanna shoot your shot with someone else?" Toji has forgotten all about keeping his obsession over you at bay, all he wants to do is knock some sense into you.

Before you can even refute his words, Toji already has his hands crawling underneath your shirt. His large, thick fingers finding your chest to pinch at your nipples, twisting them lightly. One hand leaves your chest while the other is splayed across it, holding you back as he pulls at your waistband, stretching the elastic out to look down at you.

"Already hard and I've barely touched you," He tsked, and contradictory to his words, his hand wanders down to touch you more. He pulls at your pants, slipping them down until they pool at your ankles before he runs a finger along the bulge at your boxers.

You instinctively whine and grasp his forearms in a futile attempt to stop his hands but you just end up twitching in his hold. "What? Don't want it? Thought you loved attention," Toji slips his hand lower, trailing down so he could press the pad of his fingers to your hole through the fabric. There's barely any friction or penetration to get you going so your hips jerk back, pushing against Toji which elicts a low groan from the man.

"Yeah, yeah you do, you fucking love it," His laugh comes out harsh and he's folding himself ontop of you, getting you to bend over more. Both his thumbs link underneath your waistband and pulls it down with a small whistle. Toji's arm then constricts around your waist where your body bent, holding you up so you didn't fall or escape. For a second he holds you still and all you can hear is the clink of his belt coming off and the small pops of his buttons.

"Stay still for me yeah?" He growls in your ear, tugging at his own clothing to get them off. He snakes his hand to your front, curving underneath to slip a finger inside. His arm is brushing so lightly against your now erect cock, but he refuses to touch it.

You could feel every knuckle pushing into you, squeezing against his fingers as you panted. His other hand finally makes it to your dick, using his fingertips to pull your cock against your stomach, tracing his nails along the underside. This ripped out a moan from your throat, your arms thrashing around from the feeling but Toji's arms are so tangle with yours its hard to move.

"Oh? So that's where you're sensitive, huh?" He's blatantly mocking you, taking his anger out on you. You whine again when Toji starts to spread the fingers nestled inside your walls, scissoring you to stretch you out. "Open up for me baby, I know you ain't shy," he keeps his fingers apart, taking his own dick and lining it up to your gaping hole.

He pushed in, and once you fit his tip through, he pulls his fingers back out, plugging you with his thick dick.

Toji hums contently, grabbing both your arms and pulling them back to his sides. You're already arching and he's got a great view of your back. "I feel like you're gonna split in half, God," its a shaky laugh because of how much you're squeezing him, wringing him out of whatever he has to offer. He pulls his hips away from you before he slams back in, the hands on your wrists pulling you against him with each thrust.

You can't do anything with your hands pulled behind your back, Toji's just using your body, handling you like you were a puppet and your arms were the strings.

You can hear Toji groan in frustration but before you could question it, Toji moves his hands, gripping your thigh and pulling it up. His other hand holds your side, as he pistons his hips into you in this new position. "That's deeper, yeah?" He groans into your ear, and you wobble from being forced to stand on one leg but Toji just tightens his grip around your waist.

Your whole body shudders when Toji finally reaches your prostate, hitting right up against it. A grin slowly emerges onto Toji's face when he sees your eyes go blank, and he knows he's found your sweet spot. "There we go, shit I was getting mad 'cause you weren't reacting that much." Toji's fingers dig deeper into the plush flesh of your thigh, and he laughs breathlessly at the obscene sound of his balls hitting against your skin.

"You take it like a champ y'know," he whispers through his teeth, "I'm so mean to you but you don't complain, huh?"

You're too far gone to even hear his words, your warm, wet walls clenching around him as you let out a small cry before coming as hard as you could, the sticky liquid falling straight onto your wooden floors. Toji's condescending laugh rings through your ears as the hand on your waist moves to your tummy, pressing down so he could feel himself rearrange your guts.

And apparently, that gets him off. Alot.

With one more thrust, Toji groans loudly, emptying for all he's worth into you. He pulls out almost immediately so he could see the white globs drip down your inner thighs. He lets go of your thigh that he was previously holding in the air and squishes them together, slotting his cock back between your sticky thighs to ride out his high.

He's peppering light kisses and small bites on your shoulder before speaking in a husky voice, "You gonna let people hit you up?" He asks, and you can barely reply from the physical exhaustion, "...No."

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #male reader #sub male reader #x bottom male reader #toji x male reader #toji fushiguro x male reader #jjk x male reader #amab reader

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kisskiss-slashslash · 3 days

Note

Can we have where the Slasher's S/O's friend was about to kill the slasher to save the S/O, but turns out that she didn't want him/her to kill him? When the friend asked "why the hell not" or "Why are you defending him" etc. She would say: "Because I love him!" Which was the first time the slashers ever heard her say something like that. (Not sure what would happen to the friend, so it doesn't matter what you decide)

Include: Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, and if possible the Sinclairs; if that's too much, don't worry about the Sinclairs, the others are just fine.

Thank you

There you go! Hope you like it.

The reader stopping their friend from killing the slashers

Jason Voorhees

Normally, being caught alone by Jason would be a death sentence. But from the first moment you two had laid eyes on each other, there had been a spark. Perhaps it was the way you showed no fear to him, you didn't insult or belittle him, the way so many others did. You saw him, recognized him and showed… empathy. Something Jason hasn't experienced since the death of his mother. And you, seeing his hard gaze soften at being showed basic kindness, find yourself making excuses to be alone, just hoping that Jason would seek you out again. Your friend is already starting to get concerned about you isolating yourself, and worse, leaving them alone and vulnerable while the rest of the group is getting picked off one by one. Then there's only the two of you left, and your friend managed to corner Jason, ready to strike with an axe… "STOP!" You quickly maneuver yourself between them and Jason. "Please… stop. No more." "Get out of the way", your friend says, voice strained with rage. You shake your head, tears burning your eyes. "No. Don't hurt him. I-…" You look over your shoulder, meeting Jason's gaze. "I… love him." Jason's eyes widen in the shadows of his mask. "Don't be an idiot!", your friend shouts. "Do you think he will spare you just because you've got a stupid crush on him?!" Your heart is hammering in your chest as you slowly lift your hands in a pacifying gesture. "Please. We can end this here. Put down the axe." Let's out a furious snarl, but tosses the axe aside nonetheless and stomps off. You lower your hands again and take a deep breath to calm yourself, when a huge, rough hand curls itself around one of your hands. You manage a shakey smile, letting your fingers intertwine with his.

Freddy Krueger

If this is what Freddy is usually like, you don't feel like you need to be all that scared of him. In fact, the dreams he sends you into are fun more than anything; but maybe that is just the adrenaline junkie in you speaking. Though at first your lack of fear was met with exasperation by Freddy, now he seems to find it quite endearing, and enjoys coming up with new things to try and scare you. Of course, if you ever break and actually do get scared, things won't look too good for you. But for now, your dreams consist of macabre banter in spooky locations that are oh so fun to explore. You come up with a scoring system of how well Freddy's ideas would work on someone who was less fearless than you. Over the many nights, the banter goes from dark jokes to light flirting to downright dirty talk, and you are enjoying the hell out of it. But then he involves a friend of yours; someone who is much more easily frightened. Freddy is testing you, you know that. Forcing you to make a choice. But when your friend turns out way more resilient than either of you expected, and actually finds a way to harm him… for the first time since Freddy entered your dreams, you feel fear. You are absolutely terrified. They stand over Freddy, who is snarling at them like a trapped animal. You don't know where you got the knife. It just suddenly appeared in your hand. So you approach your friend and hold the blade against their neck. "Step away from my boyfriend", you say in a low, hoarse voice. "Or else." "Boyfriend?", echo both Freddy and your friend. Your gaze flits back and forth between them. No way you would backpedal now. "You heard me." They turn to you, horror mixed with anger warping their face into an almost mask-like grimace. And just as they want to go off on you.. their head pops like an overfilled balloon, covering you in blood, grey matter, bone shards and cerebrospinal fluid. You wipe the mess off your face, thoroughly grossed out. "Whelp. I guess I just blew their mind." Freddy and you look at each other and burst out laughing.

Bubba Sawyer

You have a good understanding of other people's emotions, so you also quickly understand the family dynamics of the Sawyer family; Bubba's position in the family most of all. The one who does most of the dirty work and gets the least amount of credit for it. The youngest brother, the bottom of the Sawyer hierarchy. You feel bad for him; there seems to be a genuinely sweet guy underneath all of the… the murder and cannibalism. And just a few hours ago, he seemed to be genuinely sorry to have to kill you. It reminds you so much of your own family dynamic. So when your friend actually managed to disarm him and turn his own chainsaw against him, you feel the need to step in. "Hold on." "What do you mean, 'hold on'? These guys wanted to eat us!" "And I think he doesn't like that any more than we do." Bubba nervously licks his lips, not sure what to make of your words. But when you reach out your hand, he takes it with only slight hesitation. "He's not a bad person", you say, not once letting your eyes stray from Bubba's. Your friend's hands tighten around the chainsaw. "You talk about this… thing like you have feelings for him." You consider it for a moment before answering:"Well… maybe I do." These four words hang heavily in the air for a moment. "You're crazy", your friend says breathlessly. "Maybe", you reply, and wrench the chainsaw out of their hands, handing it back to Bubba, who still hasn't fully processed your confession. "But who isn't these days."

Thomas Hewitt

You have known Thomas since childhood, though at some point, your family moved away, as so many people did. But even back when you were a child, you always had a crush on him. So after many many years, you decide to take a few friends on a trip to the place you called home during your youth. You get separated from your friends, and run into the Hewitts on your own. At first, they do not recognize you. But then you call every single one of them by name, and they remember that kid that used to hang around Thomas all the time. And Thomas himself? He is thrilled to see you again, beyond thrilled, even. His welcoming hug lingers just a little longer than it would be socially appropriate, and while you catch up with Luda Mae, you hear Hoyt and Monty tease him about you. And then everything goes downhill when your sole surviving friend shows up, armed to the teeth, to "rescue" you. Even though the Hewitts have crossed all lines of morality during your long absence, you feel a deep protective instinct flare up in you. And when you look at Thomas, it becomes so all-consuming that you know you would rather die than let him get hurt. So you confront your friend on your own, though you can feel Thomas' gaze linger on you. "They are my friends", you explain calmly. "Please don't hurt them." "Please don't hurt them", your friend imitates you mockingly. "Funny how you didn't seem to mind them hurting the others." "I'm not going to ask you again", you say, hoping to still resolve this whole matter peacefully. "Why? Why protect them? They are killing people! That freak with the mask-" You get goosebumps at having to say it out loud. "His name is Thomas, and I love him. I will not let you speak of him this way." A huge shadow falls over you, and you don't even have to turn around to know it's him. Then there's another set of footsteps, and the sound of a shotgun being cocked. "Get your little friend inside, Tommy. I'll handle this." There is a way too excited glint in Hoyt's eyes as he says this. Thomas places his hand at the small of your back and guides you towards the entrance door. You hear the shotgun go off, and despite the painful knot your stomach is in, you look at Thomas and find yourself smiling.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #freddy krueger x reader #thomas hewitt x reader

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candycandy00 · 2 days

Text

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 2

Read the details about this event here!

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

For the first two rounds, I’m not naming the men. You can probably figure out who is who, but that’s part of the fun! I’m doing it this way to encourage readers to vote based on the scenario rather than just automatically voting out their least fave character. Feel free to make guesses about who each man is!

In Round 1, Man #1, Choso, was eliminated!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

You’ve decided to stick with this group for the time being. They’re a nice mix of strong, smart, and caring. None of them come across as creepy or make you uncomfortable, which is saying a lot considering it’s a group made up entirely of men relatively close to your age.

You spend the evening gathering what supplies you need into a duffel bag you found in the store’s rather scant sporting goods section. At night, one of them insisted you sleep in the stock room and keep the key until morning. He really was very considerate, and none of the others objected.

The next day, someone makes coffee in the break room. You don’t know which one did it, but it’s the first cup you’ve had in over a week and tastes delicious. With foam cup in hand, you walk over to the front entrance to check the situation outside, only to find the man who called out to you yesterday keeping watch.

Man #1: Choso (Eliminated in Round 1)

He’s standing near the door, slightly to the side, still as a statue until you approach.

“Want me to bring you some coffee?” you ask, taking a sip from your cup.

He smiles at you. “Thanks, but I had some already.”

You gesture toward the entrance. “Anything new going on out there?”

“No, just a dozen or so zombies roaming around,” he replies. “They come close to the door sometimes, but with these tinted windows they can’t see much of what’s inside.”

You hadn’t realized they were tinted until he mentioned it, but you suppose that’s why everything looks so dreary outside.

As you stare out the window, you notice something in the distance. You squint your eyes, trying to make out if it’s just another zombie or something else. As you watch, the figure picks up speed, breaking into a run.

“Look! There’s someone out there!” you shout, pointing to the figure fleeing toward the store.

The man beside you looks out through the glass door. “It’s definitely a living person!”

Behind the figure, a large group of zombies, perhaps the biggest group you’ve seen, is slowly giving chase. The figure stumbles, hits the ground, and you feel your heart race. You’ve witnessed zombie attacks before, but it’s always disturbing. And you can’t help thinking that this could easily have been you yesterday.

You want to open the door and beckon the figure, but that’s not your call to make. You’re a guest with this group, and you don’t have the right to put their safety at risk.

Thankfully, the kind hearted man beside you makes that choice. He flings the door open and calls out, “Hey! Run this way! To the grocery store!”

The figure looks up, and from this distance they appear to be a young man. He scrambles to his feet and breaks into another run, a desperate dash for the store.

You and the man both yell out to him, encouraging him to hurry and keep going. Just as he runs through the door, two zombies that must have been close to the entrance follow him in, shambling into the store.

Man #2:

Before anyone else can react, the large, imposing man who tore the zombies off you yesterday runs by you. With his bare hands he picks up the first zombie by the neck and literally throws it outside. Then he delivers a devastating punch to the second zombie’s head, knocking it clean off its shoulders.

You yelp in surprise, having never seen someone kill a zombie in such a way before. Someone closes the door and locks it, but the herd of zombies definitely saw the young man run inside, because they’re heading straight for the store.

Backing away from the door, you glance at the man who took care of the two zombies. “Do you think the glass will hold?”

He doesn’t seem the least bit scared. “Probably not against a horde like that.”

“What should we do?” you ask, trying not to sound panicked as the zombies close in.

He grins. “You should run when they break in. I’ll tear the fuckers apart.”

Uncertain whether that statement is comforting or alarming, you turn to look at the newcomer. He’s a teenager, probably around sixteen, and he’s panting to catch his breath.

You walk over to him. “Are you alright?”

He looks up at you, and his face is twisted in horror. “I’m so sorry!” he yells, tears in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have come in here!”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, reaching your hand out to pat his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out. We’ll-“

He swats your hand away. “Don’t! I… I’ve been…” his voice dies in his throat, and he pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, displaying a messy bite wound.

You inhale sharply, your heart sinking at the sight. He’s just a kid! “How long ago?” you ask. You’ve heard rumors that severing a limb with a bite will stop the spread of the virus, but it has to be done quickly.

“Yesterday,” he answers.

The man who fought the zombies steps up beside you. “Too long,” he says, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the wound. “We should probably throw him out. He’s no good to us.”

You look at him incredulously. “We can’t do that!”

Man #3:

The man you spoke to yesterday who seemed like a leader, who was clearly a planner, walks over. He looks at the boy, then at you. “We’ll need to discuss this,” he says.

“Discuss what? What are the options here?” you ask him. “Let him stay or toss him out there to be eaten alive?!”

The man’s smooth expression doesn’t change. “Those aren’t the only options. We could tie him up, lock him in the break room, or even give him a quick and painless death.”

You feel your outrage subsiding. Those sound much more reasonable. You’re surprised he can think so rationally in this situation. “Okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He smiles that same charming, not-quite-genuine smile he gave you yesterday. “Don’t be. Tensions are running high, so it’s understandable. I’d worry more if you were the type to want to throw him out immediately.”

You sigh in relief, then turn toward the boy, who is still muttering apologies. “What would you like for us to do? Restrain you? Or… or make it so you don’t turn?”

The boy looks up at you. “I don’t want to turn! Please, don’t let me end up like them! I’d do it myself but I’m too scared!”

Hearing such a young man say that is heartbreaking. But you understand. If you ever get bitten, you hope someone will kill you before letting you become a zombie, doomed to roam the earth, rotting and attacking others.

The man pulls a blade from a holster on his hip and approaches the boy. “Are you ready? Or do you need more time?”

The boy hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I’m ready. Please make it quick!”

The man pats him on the back affectionately. “You’re very brave. You can rest easy now. I’ll make sure you don’t suffer.”

The boy is staring at him, and seems comforted. “Thanks,” he says with teary eyes.

You turn your head, unable to watch. You don’t hear a sound. No scream, not even a grunt. It really must have been painless. When you look back, the man is easing the boy’s body to the floor. He looks thoughtful, maybe a little sad.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” you say.

He’s wiping his blade off on a handkerchief. “Someone has to make the tough decisions, and then carry them out.”

You start to ask why that had to be him, but you remain silent. You don’t like the way he seems to be taking all the darkness and sadness onto himself. But you have bigger things to worry about right now.

Man #4:

The man you saw standing guard yesterday, who said he wanted to go back to the city, is staring out the windows of the store, watching the growing horde approach. He doesn’t seem scared, only annoyed, as if this is no more than a minor obstacle to his plans.

“I’m gonna get out of here,” he says, loud enough for the others to hear. “I don’t have time to get held up.”

You look at him in shock. “You’re just going to leave the rest of us?”

He looks at you dispassionately. “A group will draw their attention a lot more than a single person. I’m not getting stuck with these guys.”

You look him up and down, at his sturdy physique. “But, we need you.”

“You ever stop to think that maybe someone else needs me?”

The question takes you aback. You have no answer for him. If he’s that desperate, if he’s willing to wade through countless zombies to get to the city, there must be someone very important to him there.

“Can you at least wait a little while?” you ask him. “The zombies might give up and wander off if they can’t see us through the tinted windows.”

The man sighs. “Fine. I’ll see what happens.”

You look out at the horde. The first few zombies have reached the front of the store and are clawing at the windows and doors. You shudder as you watch them. You’ve never seen so many before, or so close up in a situation where you can actually get a good look at them. If one is close, you’re usually fleeing or trying to kill it.

They’re all staring straight ahead, seemingly at nothing. Can they see their own reflections in the glass? Can they even perceive themselves? Seeing them just leaves you feeling empty and sad.

“Do me a favor,” the man says. “If I ever get bitten, put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

You nod. “Same,” you say.

Man #5:

The man who gave you the tip yesterday about using duck tape on your arms steps over to the windows to survey the situation. He already has his arms wrapped in a layer of the tape, over top of his sleeves. A few of the others notice, and begin wrapping their own limbs in tape or thick fabric, so you do the same.

He steps closer to you and takes the roll of tape from your hand, then begins wrapping your forearm for you.

“Thanks,” you tell him, hoping he can’t hear how nervous the growing horde outside is making you.

He seems as calm as the more physically imposing men, despite having a more slender frame. “Our best option would be to bang on the glass and draw their attention to the front, then all of us slip out the back way,” he says.

You glance toward the back of the store. “Should we check to see if they’ve circled around?”

He nods, and the two if you make your way back, through the storage area and to a large drop down gate. You assume trucks come in this way to unload merchandise. But it’s locked up tight and you can’t see anything on the other side.

“There’s a window up there,” the man says, pointing. You have to use a step ladder to reach it, but you both climb up to look out.

There aren’t nearly as many zombies roaming around behind the store, but there are definitely enough to be a problem.

“I think we can make it through, but it’s going to be a challenge,” he tells you.

You feel fear creeping up your spine. So far you’ve been able to evade most large groups of zombies, but with the store being surrounded, it’s looking like you’re going to have to wade into them.

As the two of you return to the front, you feel your spirits sinking.

Man #6:

The man with the bright smile comes up beside you as you stare out hopelessly at the zombies gathered at the windows.

“I’ve seen bigger hordes,” he says.

You look up at him. “You have?”

He grins. “Sure. They’re not so bad when you realize how slow and uncoordinated they are.”

You appreciate his optimism. But you realize it’s more than that. His confidence rings true, and it makes you feel a little more hopeful.

“So you think we can get out?” you ask.

He nods, still smiling, then gestures to where a few of the men are standing in a small circle. “They’re planning our escape right now. We’ve got some real smart guys here, so don’t worry.”

You finally return his smile. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he replies.

Just then you hear something, like tinkling glass. Both you and the man look around for the source of the noise. After a few minutes, you spot a tiny crack in the glass, right where over a dozen zombies are pressing against the windows.

“They’re breaking the glass!” you cry, backing away.

The man calls over to his friends, “Guys, put a rush on that brilliant plan!”

They look up and rush over to check the crack.

Man #7:

The man you met in the stock room yesterday is the first to crouch down and examine the crack in the glass. His brow is furrowed as he watches the zombies shove themselves against the window, then he turns to face the others.

“Everyone, get whatever you need and be ready to go in ten minutes. We’ll take our chances going out the back.”

You already had your backpack ready, so you pull it onto your shoulders as the other men begin doing the same. You feel your heart racing as you prepare for the fight of your life.

The man is securing his own pack with a strap around his waist and checking the heavy denim sleeves of the jacket he’s wearing. He seems uncomfortable in the fabric, as if it’s not something he’d normally wear, but protection is the most important thing right now.

“What do you think our chances are?” you ask him.

He looks around the room. “With this group? Pretty good. If we all stick to the plan,” he adds, glancing at a couple of guys in particular. Then he looks back at you. “Try to stay in the middle of us. We can protect you.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I guess I lucked out when I stumbled upon you guys.”

He gives you a warm smile. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

Just then, you hear glass breaking, another crack at first, and then a shattering that startles everyone in the store. Right beside you, the first zombie crashes inside, and the man grabs your arm, pulling you back behind him.

As the zombie horde begins shambling into the store, the men around you take defensive positions and get ready to fight their way to the back.

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee @babysoo-meu @atomicweaselpaperapricot

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #choso x reader #higuruma x reader #x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #fushiguro toji #nanami kento #sukuna #choso kamo #higuruma hiromi

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reina-tries-2-write · 3 days

Text

The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 4: Finding A Place

SYNOPSIS: After a silent week at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech, someone finally reaches out and invites you to participate with everyone. Are they just being pitying or are you really going to find your place?

WC: 2.8K

PREV - MASTERLIST - NEXT

You were sitting alone at lunch today, as usual, and you had noticed that Tired Guy was observing you. You had no idea why, he was probably just being judgmental or something but you couldn’t quite convince yourself that was the case. He looked almost sad for you so you assumed he was just pitying you.

But your assumptions were quickly proved wrong today.

A few bites into your meal, he came over and sat down across from you with a small smile in greeting. He pulled out a yellow notepad and pencil before writing something down and turning it around for you to see.

—Hey! You know you don’t have to sit alone. You’re always welcome to come join us if you want to. Just tell us how you need to communicate and we can do that. We did it with Toge so that’s not a problem at all. Want you to feel like you fit in and everything. And if it’s any consolation, I struggled to fit in at first but they’re all really good people/panda—

You looked at the message a little shocked. You were not used to people taking the time figure out how to communicate with you, let alone inviting you to participate with them. You picked up the pencil and wrote back, hand a little shaky in shock.

—Thank you. I really appreciate that. Kinda used to not fitting in anywhere tbh. Thing is, I can speak, I just don’t sound normal and hate talking—

—We don’t care if you think you sound weird. Toge only talks in onigiri ingredients so you definitely won’t be alone in the unique communication situation—

—I’ll manage. But thank you for including me. I kinda don’t know anyone’s name still since I struggle with new words—

—I’m Yuta. Panda is pretty self explanatory. I told you about Toge and then that’s Maki. She’s a bit intimidating but nice once you get to know her—

—It’s nice to officially meet you. Sorry it took so long. I’ll come sit with you guys—

He nods and smiles at you before leading you over to the table everyone else was sitting at. He gestures for you to take a seat and you end up between him and Blond Guy— Toge, that’s his name.

Picking up on the fact that you knew nothing about anyone, Yuta says something to the group that you don’t quite catch before he hands the notepad to Panda.

He takes a second and writes something down before handing you the notepad back. In his, interesting, handwriting is a proper introduction and an explanation of his cursed technique. Rather the fact he’s a cursed corpse.

After you read, Toge gestures for you to hand him the notepad and does the same. Cursed speech is his technique and it makes sense as to why he covers his mouth. You hadn’t noticed before since you sat alone during meals but he has cursed speech marks, a snake and fangs seal as he explained, on his cheeks and tongue along with having actual fangs which you found pretty cool.

Maki goes next and explains she can’t use cursed energy which you find interesting. Could you potentially give her some and teach her to use it? You had tried with Mari but it didn’t work so you weren’t too hopeful and didn’t bring it up.

Yuta went last and explained his curse, Rika, and his newfound technique— copy. He rambled a bit on the paper and you figured you might be able to help him control cursed energy if he wanted your help that is. He seems pretty damn competent with it already.

He requests you introduce yourself as well since Gojo had apparently not done a good introduction for you and they also had no idea what your cursed technique was. You figured this would be a good time to explain that, while you were touched by the gesture of using the notepad, you could get by without it. So needless to say, you wrote for quite a bit.

—Hey, I’m Y/N. Obvs I’m deaf but I actually can hear cursed energy. Sounds like how electricity feels if that makes sense. My technique is called Energy Flux and along with hearing cursed energy, I can manipulate it. Give it, take it, move it around, stuff like that. But there’s some stuff that’s important about me you should know. I can usually hear you guys coming up behind me because of your energy and stuff but it’s really loud around here and I’m still getting used to it so you’re welcome to tap my shoulder to get my attention if you need. You all sound different so I’m figuring it out. We don’t have to use the notepad the whole time since I can read lips but new terms and names are hard for me at first. So that’s why I had no idea who you guys were until now. But let me know if you have any questions about me and being deaf and stuff. I don’t get offended about it so you’re welcome to ask anything.—

Everyone reads your message and nods, letting you know they understand and will ask when they need. Toge notes the two of you will probably need to keep writing or typing since you don’t know his onigiri language and that he prefers it anyway since his language doesn’t exactly convey much.

***************************************************

Today at lunch, Y/N was sitting alone again, as she had done all week, and I watched Yuta’s mind race. I knew what he was thinking so I nudged him and nodded my head toward Y/N.

He gave me an appreciative smile before digging through his bag for a notepad and pencil. I heard him take a deep breath before going over and sitting down across from Y/N.

Obviously I wasn’t privy to their written conversation but a few minutes later, to my delight, Y/N followed him over to our table. I scooted over on the bench so she could sit between Yuta and I. She was clearly comfortable with him so I hoped she’d be okay with me too.

Yuta explained that she didn’t even catch our names during introductions last week and that we should do a proper introduction. We all took turns writing on the notepad and passing it around.

Y/N’s turn to introduce herself came around and I was actually a bit excited to get to know her. Figure out how she talked in a sense— what she was like.

She handed me the notepad after writing down a good bit of information and I scanned the page. The first thing I noticed was her handwriting. I really liked it and it was a nice personification of how she would sound if she spoke. It gave her tone and emotion that normally wasn’t present with written words.

She explained her technique which I thought was really cool. She could hear cursed energy? That was, well, unheard of. Not only could she hear it but she could manipulate it too. I wondered what exactly she could do with that.

She said we were welcome to ask any questions and after a few basics about how to communicate with her that Panda and Yuta asked, I scribbled down a question.

—What do I sound like?—

She smiles and takes the notepad back, writing down her answer.

—Like a humming noise. It’s not low like a bass speaker but more like a machine. Soft and not annoying. Kinda nice actually. You’re not as loud as Yuta but you’re louder than Panda. He sounds like a cat purring. Yuta sounds like a storm. Crackly, buzzy, the most like electricity. Maki is a quiet buzz but when she gets angry she sounds like electricity too.—

I chuckled at her response and was honestly happy that I didn’t sound annoying to her. I liked that she seemingly liked how I sounded the most. Based on her description, everyone else sounded kinda annoying except maybe Panda. I loved that he sounded like a purring cat— I was definitely going to give him shit for that.

I loved finally getting a little glimpse into who Y/N was and I really liked her personality and seeming resilience. She was doing her best to make the most of her situation and while clearly frustrating, she was still upbeat and kind to us.

****************************************************

You have a good time with everyone at lunch and after going back to the dorms to change into your training outfit, meet up with them in the arena. They’re all talking together when you arrive and you walk up to join, your notes app pulled up on your phone so you can communicate with Toge.

They all greet you and Maki indicates to you that she has a question for you.

“So, theoretically, can you give someone or a weapon cursed energy?” She asks, placing a hand on her hip.

You nod and smile, not expecting someone to be that interested in your technique.

“Show me.” She requests simply, brows raised.

You give her a thumbs up and everyone takes a few steps back, not knowing what to expect. To take or give cursed energy, you have to make contact with the target entity. You can still repel, amplify and manipulate the energy otherwise without physical contact. It’s just that the transfer process is much faster and safe for you this way.

That being said, you simply extend you hand out to her and she gives you an odd expression. You glance from her, to your open palm and back to indicate to her to hold your hand.

She furrows her brows a bit as if she was skeptical of the experience but places her palm face down on top of yours.

You already know she can’t use cursed energy, you can hear her or rather, she’s almost silent, so you channel a very small amount into her hand. To you, cursed energy feels and sounds like electricity, buzzing and slightly tingly and you don’t want to freak her out.

She flinches a bit at the new feeling, her eyes widening as she feels it move through her per your direction. You donate a small amount of your energy to her and once completely transferred, you drop your hand out from underneath hers.

She looks down at her hand, turning her palm up and making fist a couple times before she gives you a genuinely grateful smile. You then point to her polearm lying in the grass next to her and raise your brows. She picks it up and hands it to you, and upon touching it, you feel the energy flowing through it. It is already extremely powerful on it’s own, clearly compensating for her lack of cursed energy so you don’t tamper with it and quickly hand it back.

Training goes by faster than you could have thought and on your way back to the dorms, you reflect on your interactions earlier.

Sure everyone was nice to you which was surprising but welcome but were they just doing it out of obligation? Were they just being nice out of pity? It didn’t quite seem like it, Toge and Yuta being the most genuine with you. Maki was a little more closed off and Panda was hard to understand but was clearly trying to cheer you up and lighten the mood.

Maybe they weren’t being fake.

****************************************************

Y/N seemingly had a good time at lunch and didn’t struggle as much during training today so I figured it would be a good time to invite her to hang out with us again. Dinner would probably be a good, casual, no pressure opportunity for her to join.

I wanted her to continue to feel included and not like lunch was a one time thing. Plus I liked hanging out with her so I pulled out my phone and typed up a message to her.

Toge walks up next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts, and hands you his phone with a message typed up in his notes app.

—Wanna have dinner with us at 7?—

You smile and nod as you hand him his phone back and he accepts, smiling back.

****************************************************

You showered, changed, and hung out in your room until seven rolled around. You walked down the hallway to the kitchen to discover everyone already there, Toge and Yuta cooking something that smelled really good while Panda and Maki sat at the table, chatting.

They all greeted you in some form, smiles and waves once more, and Panda gestured for you to join him and Maki at the table. You sat across from the pair and Panda said something that was clearly directed at you. But you still couldn’t read his lips yet, or snout rather, so you furrowed your brows and pointed to your mouth as you shook your head.

“You can’t read his words?” Maki asks, picking up on your confusion.

You nod, happy someone understood. You pulled out your phone and typed to the pair.

—I’ll pick it up eventually so don’t worry. I’ve just never exactly talked to a panda before—

You watch the pair chuckle at your message and Panda nodded to acknowledge you. He said something again and you picked up on an ‘okay’ assuming he was telling you it was okay and that he’d be patient.

Maki looked up over your shoulder as you heard someone come up behind you. You turned to see Toge sit down next to you, setting a plate of yakitori in front of you. You flashed him a grateful smile that he reciprocated and, after Yuta served Panda, Maki and himself, the five of you dug in.

The food was absolutely delicious and you tapped the table between you and Toge to get his attention. He looks over at you and you point to the plate before giving him a thumbs up. He gives you a thumbs up back and elbows Yuta who is on the other side of him, pointing to you, his plate and giving him a thumbs up.

Yuta peers around him. “Glad you like it.”

Everyone diligently includes you in the conversation and as delighted as you were to be accepted, you knew you were only slowing it down. Toge noticed your change in demeanor and typed to you.

—What’s wrong?—

—I appreciate being included but I know I’m just hindering the conversation—

He vigorously shakes his head no before typing back.

—You’re definitely not. Promise. We want you to participate so we can get to know you and learn your gestures and stuff—

You smile, a bit sadly, but accept and continue answering questions and typing to everyone until you finished eating. After you cleaned up dinner the five of you migrated into the living room to continue your conversation.

****************************************************

In the middle of dinner, Y/N’s expression and body language suddenly changed. She looked sad and upset with something I couldn’t quite tell. No one else seemed to notice so I did what I would have wanted and typed up a quick message to ask if she was okay. For all I knew she could just be lost in thought but I got the feeling something else was wrong.

I tried to hide my sad expression after she answered my question.

She felt like she was being a burden. And I knew exactly how that felt. The two of us have unique communication needs and while I knew everyone here didn’t mind adapting, I understood why she felt that way.

I made sure she knew she wasn’t hindering the conversation in the slightest. She was actually contributing quite a lot to it and everyone was having a particularly good time tonight. Maki was more involved, Panda was a bit crazier and Yuta was more relaxed. She was helping for sure.

****************************************************

In the living room, Toge sat next to you on the smaller couch and you were more comfortable with his presence than you thought you would be. He seemed to understand you in a different way. Quietly. Intently.

Whatever it was about his presence was comforting in a way and you found yourself relaxing into the couch and social situation more fluidly and easily than you had ever done before.

Usually you were pretty guarded when it came to sharing details about yourself aside from surface level explanations about your deafness and the like. But the group had really put in an effort to include you and you could tell they were being genuine. Not pitying.

As you all settled into the living room, the conversation drifted to topics like favorite movies and embarrassing childhood stories. You found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks, and when it came time to share something about yourself, you hesitated for a second before revealing a small detail about your life before Jujutsu Tech. The group listened intently, their reactions kind and encouraging, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of belonging.

You slowly opened up to them some, still a bit guarded because of past experiences but you could tell they all meant well so you revealed a few little pieces of yourself. Maybe you had found another little band of misfits.

#jjk #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk x y/n #toge x reader #toge x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fics

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wishcamper · 3 days

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Nessian Week Day 6 - Legends & Destiny

Happy second to last day of @nessianweek! I have for you a Witcher!Cassian and sorceress!Nesta AU.

You can read here or on ao3!

Out of the Fog, Into the Mist

CW: consensual sexual content, reference to underage marriage and sex trafficking.

In the town of Mulbrydale, just north of the river near Hanged Man’s Tree, whispers rode the chill autumn air like restless ghosts. For weeks, the townsfolk held their breath as a dark shadow loomed over them: girls had begun to vanish. Four in total, all last seen in the gnarled woods at the fringes of their fields. And so a notice was put out on boards around Velen, that anyone who could find the girls (or the culprit) would eat and sleep well in any house, and could lay claim to a hefty sum.

It smelled like trouble, the sickly sweet of a body left long to rot, but Cassian needed the coin. And after four nights sleeping on the hard-ass ground of this war-ravaged cesspool, he wasn’t picky about how he got it.

“They go over the ridge to let the goats feed in the scrubs. Come sundown the goats come back, but not the girls,” the local innkeep explained, and Cassian saw the ripple of fear pass through him as he said it, the curl of his stooped shoulders.

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ignore the stink wafting off his new employer, though maybe he’d ceased to be nose-blind to himself. “So you want me to find what’s killing them.”

“Not killin’, Master Witcher - snatchin’.” The man’s voice was grave despite the lilting accent. “We’ve searched these wood a dozen times and found naught, not a bone. Tweren’t even no blood. Must be a fearsome thing to take them without a trace.”

He gave Cassian a look he’d seen a thousand times then, the furtive dart of a gaze that lingered on the cat-like yellow of his mutated eyes, the two swords at his back: steel for men, silver for monsters. He tried to ignore it, along with the rage that bubbled up at how common folk saw him, a beast barely better than those he slayed.

“And it’s only girls? No boys, too?”

The innkeep shook his head, leaned in to whisper, “The boys come home all dazed-like, remember nothin’. Except for Young Ian, but he were half mad already.”

Cassian sighed and considered the possibilities. There were the tragic but mundane - the girls got lost, or else ran off, ending up for the wolves either way. Then the tragic and unjust, that someone or something was abducting them: slavers, traffickers. It seemed less likely the cause was supernatural, though hags were known to have a penchant for young females, maybe a lesser vampire.

He didn’t relish any of the outcomes, if he was honest with himself. But he’d seen the lavish church at the end of the high street and knew there could be no drought of money in this town, despite the dilapidated dwellings. Crisis had a habit of making converts of even the most secular, and the people of Mulbrydale shed their coin for the Church of the Eternal Fire like the yellow birch leaves now littering their street.

“What did this Young Ian claim to see?” he asked, and the innkeep shrugged where he’d turned to wipe a grimy mug. Whether beast or bastard, Cassian figured the snatcher must have a stash spot nearby since none of the bodies had been found, or else there’d be tracks from a caravan or band of outlaws.

“He says he saw a lady in the wood, the same day the last girl disappeared. Said she spoke to him day afore yesterday when he went lookin’ for his own sister, Abby. Didn’t find no trace of her, but came back babblin’ like a loon about how he met some Gray Lady. Blue eyes and hair spun of gold, he says.”

Instincts prickling, Cassian leaned closer across the grubby counter, trying to hide his voice below the din of other midday patrons who apparently had nothing better to do than drink. “Did he seem.. Out of it? Acted strange ever since?”

“Well he’s never been quite right, but he did turn down a sympathy romp with Marna over there when he came to tell the tale. Never afore he done that.”

The aforementioned must’ve heard her name, for a dull-eyed woman rose her head from where it had been plastered to a scrubbed wood table and offered him a watery smile. The innkeep gave him a significant look, eyebrows raised.

The pieces were beginning to fall into place, an artist’s first pass of paint over a canvas. It definitely wasn’t wolves, and while he hadn’t ruled out some other creature it was clear this being was intelligent, enough to cover his own tracks. That left fewer options, all of them dangerous.

Cassian straightened, confident he’d wrung every bit of useful information out of the man, tossed his last few coppers on the counter before draining his ale.

“Thank you. Tell me where to find this Young Ian, and the families of the girls, and I’ll be on my way. And as for my fee..”

They haggled for a moment, and he managed to get the innkeep up a few more crowns, enough to see him through until he reached Oxenfurt. Once there he could rest a bit easier, in more comfort with the dearth of contracts in the city. Maybe even spring for a sympathy romp himself.

Cassian left his horse tethered outside the inn and made his way to the main street. Townsfolk froze in their churning and smithing and general idling to gawk at him, some spitting in his path or crossing themselves and mumbling prayers to the Eternal Fire. Even the reedy looking man in the pillory had the gall to sneer at him, but they were all reactions he’d endured for many years, and Cassian only sent his well-practiced curse to his parents for selling him off so young.

For it was a witcher’s lot in life to be both needed and reviled, a freak mutated with poisons to be stronger, faster, with keener senses and quicker healing. His kind were made, not born, though he might as well have been for all the choice he had in it.

At the first three girls’ houses Cassian found similar scenes - weeping mothers, dull-eyed siblings, fathers crackling with impotent rage. And the same story thrice over: that their daughter walked over the ridge to the forest like she always did, and at sundown only the goats came home, no trace to be found.

The tale was simple enough, but something snagged in the back of Cassian’s mind as he trudged up the lane toward the last house. Maybe it was that all the girls were near age thirteen, all described as both comely and disobedient by their fathers. The way the mothers cringed away from their husbands, the young boys in each house better nourished than their sisters.

Abby was the third girl who’d gone missing, who also happened to be the sister of the young man who’d claimed to see the phantom in the forest. Her former house was a sad little cottage of pitch and straw at the end of the lane, leaning drunkenly to one side from time and shoddy construction. Its owner leaned in much the same manner where he sat out front, propped up on a stool with a jug between his feet, dirt and sweat caked along his hairline.

Cassian cleared his throat and the man jolted upright at the sound, somehow startled even though Cassian was big enough to cast a shadow across him from several feet away.

“I hear your daughter’s gone missing,” Cassian bit out, already expecting no useful information. “And your son saw a woman in the woods. What can you tell me?”

The man hiccoughed and blinked up at him, weaving slightly though he was sitting still. “My Abby. She’s gone. The Gray Lady took ‘er.”

“What Gray Lady?”

“Ian seent her, my - hic - son. When he went lookin’ for his sister.” He gestured toward the forest and belched wetly, making Cassian take a step back. “Said he saw a figure in the woods before passing out, and when he woke this was - hic - in his pocket along with one of Abby’s hair - hic - ribbons.”

The man nodded downward. Cassian looked closer now at the jug between his feet and saw a small flower sticking from the opening, an ordinary celandine. But the yellow petals shimmered in the light, strange, unearthly, and he felt his witcher’s medallion hum against his chest at the presence of magic.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It won’t die. The priest says it’s an omen from the Eternal Fire, that it marks the unnatural has - hic - taken ahold of her. That I gotta pay to have my home cleansed so the blight don’t spread to my others. But I think she sent it as a sign she’s still out there, that she needs me to come save her. Somethin’s not right in those woods, I’m tellin’ you. Somethin’ wicked snatched my girl, I feel it.”

Zealots and swindlers, all priests of that bloodthirsty religion, but Cassian couldn’t deny the wrongness that radiated from the flower, a clumsiness in how the magic wavered he couldn’t quite place. The girl’s father burst into pitiful tears then, and Cassian almost felt sorry for him, as much as he was capable of, anyway.

“And it would take her of course, my Abby. Most beautiful girl in Velen. She was supposed to be - hic - married next month, you know. I knew one day some important man would come through and see her and have to take her for a wife. Offered a handsome sum, too. My girl. Knew she couldn’t have been born so pretty for - hic - nothin’.” He dissolved once more into weeping, mumbling to himself, a man lost in his own head.

Yet despite the way his voice trembled, something about his grief left a bad taste in Cassian’s mouth, like beer gone slightly off. And not because of the myth that witcher mutations robbed one of normal human emotions - he had more of those than this man was having coherent thoughts at present - but he seemed much sadder about the lost coin than his own flesh and blood.

After a few additional questions that got him nowhere, Cassian left the man cradling the flower, stroking it with one delicate finger and muttering about farm equipment that needed repairing.

The mystery was starting to come together more clearly, though parts still felt obscured, a thick bank of fog blocking the places where it all connected. The flower was strange, the magic rudimentary, but Abby at least had reasons to run away, or perhaps a suitor uninterested in paying her father what he thought she was worth.

He trudged back up the lane, stomach growling.

With information from a street urchin he cajoled by letting her hold his sword, he soon found Young Ian hiding in the community stables. He could’ve been no older than twenty, sprawled in a pile of straw with one hand tugging hard at his fluffy hair, a ragged feather quill in the other. There was a piece of grubby parchment stretched over his knee, and Cassian wondered if the innkeep was right about his sanity when he saw line after line written and crossed out, fitful scribblings of an unsound mind.

“Wanted to ask you some questions about the missing girls,” Cassian said gruffly, and the sandy-haired head whipped upwards, startled.

“I didn’t see nothin’,” he grumbled, muddy green eyes hazy. “Now git on with ye, I’m in the middle of somethin’.”

“Yes I can see that. Mind taking a break so we can both get on with our business?”

Ian bared his teeth to retort but seemed to catch himself, spotting Cassian’s leather armor, his twin swords. “Aye, you’re one o’ them witcher’s, ye are. I heard stories about ye. No feelings, none at all.”

“Thanks for your input. Now tell me about the woman you saw.”

“N-no, I didn’t see no-” Ian stammered, but Cassian felt his patience growing short. His belly was empty and so was his coin purse, and none of that would be remedied by debating his own emotional capacity.

“I don’t fucking care what you were doing out there, just tell me what you saw.”

“She told me not to tell.”

Beyond aggravated, Cassian felt his hand moving up to cast Axii before deciding to do so. Ian’s eyes instantly went glassy, his own will dampened, and he glanced out the stable door before leaning in close.

“I saw her,” he said, voice wavy with delight. The reverence that broke across his face crinkled the dirt at the corners of his eyes. “The Gray Lady. She was there in the woods, in naught but a robe, and she was the most beautiful -”

“This was a human woman?”

“Tweren’t nothing human about her, Sir Witcher, sir. She was - She -”

A faint buzzing sounded, and Cassian felt his medallion hum against his chest again. Something was preventing the young man from telling what he’d seen despite Axii’s influence, perhaps from remembering it altogether. He could read now the scribbled lines on the parchment - poetry, declarations of love to a golden-haired goddess. The gifts he’d lavish upon her, where he’d lick -

With a groan, Cassian lumbered away from the young man, who returned moony-eyed to his musings with hardly a second glance. This job just kept getting worse.

It was too late to back out now, he reasoned, and he returned to the inn to wait for nightfall. And to stew over what the fuck he was going to do.

For this was no common trafficker or hag or even an incubus that took those girls, any of which would be preferable to what it probably was. It was most likely a creature more formidable than all others, against which he had a particular weakness. Cassian sharpened his silver sword while the townspeople descended into drunkenness that evening, trying to ignore the dread that had begun to coil in his stomach, wondering if the blade would even make a difference.

When the moon was a pale wisp on the horizon, he slipped out of the tavern and proceeded into the woods on foot, not trusting his horse to resist whatever tricks may lay in wait. The forest was dense and silent, quieter than it had any right to be, and he met none of the usual night creatures as he wound further between the trees. Cassian found himself holding his breath at intervals, the creeping feeling that he was treading somewhere he ought not go, pressing ahead in defiance. Perhaps in foolishness, too.

Water sounded close by, the smell of wet earth and something sweeter, trunks thinning to indicate a glade ahead. The ground was softer here, and with his witcher’s sight he noticed a crisscross of small footprints in the mud, a scrap of flowery fabric snagged on a branch. A twist of magic drifted on the air, sharp and metallic, making his lip curl and his medallion shudder.

Yet at the same time his better sense begged to turn back, a thread tugged low in his gut, pulling him forward. With the blessing of vision in the dark, Cassian crept through the trees until he came at last to a starlit clearing.

A gray-robed figure stood in the pool of a silver waterfall, hood shrouding the details of her heart-shaped face. He could tell it was a woman from the contours of her body, from the long, golden-brown hair that swayed like reeds in the updrafts from the falls. Though he’d approached on silent footsteps, she turned in greeting like he’d come crashing through the brush, her full mouth bracketed with annoyance as if he’d kept her waiting.

Slender hands reached up to remove the hood, and the woman beneath was unlike he’d ever seen, tall and willowy, her face glowing like the moon. And those eyes - he could see why Ian was trying to put his passion to paper. They were the blue-gray of a winter sky reflected in his sword, smoldering like white-hot embers in the night. His empty stomach fell out then, for such unnatural beauty only graced one kind of creature.

A sorceress.

All around him plants rustled in a phantom breeze, giant tropical flowers, willows with branches that trailed in the clear pool at his feet. He could see silver-scaled fish flashing in the water, chiming where they brushed against one another, against her shapely legs. Legs he’d die to have wrapped around his waist, or crushing his head as he -

A tendril of magic wrapped about his throat, choking off his breath before he could shield himself. Cassian saw one elegant eyebrow raise when he didn’t pass out immediately, knew it was a trap but oh, what a trap to die in.

Fucking sorceresses.

“You seek the missing girls.”

Her voice was like liquid starlight, and he tried to stammer out an explanation but found only a dumb groan pouring from his throat. “Do you mind toning down your glamour?” he managed once he’d collected himself enough. “It’s giving me a headache.”

The woman’s brow furrowed, and he wondered if she expected him to fall to her feet as the village boy had. As many others had before, he suspected.

But she relented, the intense aura around her dimming somewhat to reveal a woman more earthly, yet somehow more beautiful still. She had a severe look about her, her face all angles, and he couldn’t help how his eyes traced her lush body, more gorgeous than he’d seen in many long years. Not that it meant anything about her potential to rip him in half, though it certainly was an.. Obstacle.

“You know where they are,” he choked out.

She smiled, cloying, and the wind brought the scent of lilacs drifting toward him once more. “I take it you’ve come to rescue them from evil, brave knight.”

Her countenance was soft and inviting, but Cassian knew what wolves could live in pretty clothing. Knew the dangers in taking her kind’s word, drilled into him through experiences both vicarious and personal.

Don’t ever trust a fucking sorceress.

He should be better at learning from his mistakes by now.

“Where are they?”

“Safe.”

“And I’m supposed to take your word for it.”

He’d heard of crooked mages snatching girls to sell to the academies, earning commissions based on each student’s aptitude. In a dream world the law would put a stop to it, a fool’s dream given Velen had a skewed view of justice these days. But something about the woman before him gave him pause, a crispness in her manner that belied a stronger moral code. Mostly the fact she hadn’t killed him yet.

“What other choice do you have?” she said in her silvery voice, and a shudder threatened to steal through him.

“I could kill you.The families think some evil creature stole them. Want me to bring back its head.”

He knew it was a gamble, but he wanted to gauge her power, how much of a threat he posed to her. Her moonbright eyes darted toward his weapons - he saw genuine fear there, and Cassian wondered if he’d misjudged her before her expression melted back into smugness.

“Two swords. I should’ve known.” She wrinkled her delicate nose and gods, he wanted to kiss where the skin crinkled. “They’ve hired you to dispatch the monster, and here you are.”

“Tell me where the girls are and there’ll be none to kill.”

“Those zealots wouldn’t know a real monster if it were clawing at their hollow legs,” she muttered to herself before straightening. “Then it seems I must plead my case. Come. Let’s see if I can’t convince you to spare me.”

She flashed that sensual, terrifying smile again and Cassian was half tempted to turn around and sprint away. Sorceresses were of a duplicitous ilk at best, abjectly cruel at worst, and whatever this one was doing out here on her own, the whole thing spelled trouble. He got the distinct impression she was concealing something, though what it was difficult to say. But when she extended a hand out toward him, Cassian couldn’t find it in himself to deny her, to think anything but whether its owner would let him press his lips to it, among other places.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you coming in, or must we do this in the cold?”

She beckoned him forward before turning and walking straight through the waterfall. Cassian followed dumbly on leaden legs, braced himself for the rush of chill water but was met with only a whisper of warm air, the scent of lilac and parchment dancing on the wind.

They emerged into a circular courtyard, surrounded on three sides by a stone villa tucked into a mountainside, archways leading to various chambers beyond. The remaining side stood open to the night air, the steep drop beyond, shadows shifting in the light of several braziers along the perimeter. His hostess looked different, too, her roughspun cloak transformed into a high-collared gown, the deep plum fabric spotless where it swept against the polished stone floor. A lush banquet was laid out before them, and even as his stomach growled Cassian knew this was a mistake, knew she already had her hooks in him and was just waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“Let’s have dinner before you decide to kill me.” Her smile was luminous and terrifying, and he swallowed in spite of himself. She gestured to a plush-cushioned seat at one end of the long table, draping herself in the one opposite. “Well, witcher. Have you the courage to drink for a sorceress’ cup?”

Along with her clothing, she’d transformed into an even smoother, more self-assured woman now they were in her bower, a spider biding time at the edge of her web. A goblet appeared before him when he eased into the chair, as if dropped out of thin air. The wine within was blood-red, and Cassian felt himself overcome with a thirst that he tried to resist.

“Depends.”

“On what?” She quirked her head to the side, amused.

“Whether I can be of some use to you.”

Her eyes flashed, and he thought saw something like his own hunger mirrored there, but it might’ve been a trick of the light.

“Oh I’m sure you can be very useful, Lord of Bloodshed.”

He balked when she used his nickname, the one he’d earned on the battlefield in the last Temerian rebellion. Her smile widened.

“Let’s negotiate. You believe I’m involved in the girl’s disappearance. The villagers have asked you to come kill me, and offered you a certain amount of coin to do so.”

“That’s right.”

Cassian eased his swords off his back and set them against the table beside them. That she’d let him keep them would’ve been comforting to a novice, but he knew enough now to tell she wasn’t foolish. Just secure enough in her own power not to worry.

“So it would stand to reason that if I offer you the same amount of coin, you’d happily be on your way.”

It might not be an empty promise - along with the fine dishware on the table, all manner of gemstones and arcane artifacts cluttered the high shelves between the archways, any one of which would’ve doubled his commission.

“That would be true if I didn’t have a reputation to uphold. A witcher doesn’t skip out on a job without good reason.”

“Am I not a good enough reason?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the supple curves of her breasts visible above the table. With great effort Cassian managed to keep his expression stony and shake his head.

She huffed.

“You’re a harder nut to crack than the rest. I don’t imagine threatening you out of it would work either. Oh, don’t get twisted about yourself,” she added when his hand moved automatically toward the hilt of his silver blade. “All that would happen is you’d break a lot of my things and then I’d have a great bloody mess to clean up. Truthfully I can’t be bothered.”

“You’re wasting my time, sweetheart,” he growled, patience waning. “Where are the girls?”

“Don’t be beastly,” she scoffed, disgusted, and Cassian bristled at her offense, at the accusation in her eyes. Here she was trying to lure him into a trap, bribe him from his duty, yet acted like she saw nothing but a brute across from her, just like the townspeople.

“Snatching children from their homes, I could argue you’re the beast. No better than a bog hag, bathing in blood to stay young.”

It was a low blow but he didn’t care, wanted to see her face twist with fury, relished the silver fire that sparked at her pale fingertips.

“Of the two of us at this table, who was crafted to kill?” she snarled, jumping to her feet to lean toward him, an accusing finger pointed at his heart. Rage pounded harder through his skull, and Cassian found himself on his feet too, fuming at her across the banquet table.

“Tell the truth for once in your crooked life, sweetheart. All this is an illusion. At the end of the day, you’re just like me. Blood and guts, bones and coin. Only you like to pretend the dirt doesn’t cling to your skirts.”

“The girls are never going home.” Her skirts whipped up in a sudden wind, a whirl of violet, lighting crackling overhead. “Tell the families they’re dead, bring back my head if you must. It will not change the facts.”

“Then you’re every inch the fucking monster you pretend not to be.”

He braced himself for her wrath, the wave of magic coming to steal his breath. But to his surprise she stilled, watched him for a moment, that same evaluating stare from the clearing. Something sad passed across her face, and Cassian felt like he could see through a chink in her armor, just a peek at the scared girl she’d likely once been.

“You think I look at you and see a brute. But I know you and I both have curses to bear. Doomed to live on the outskirts, worth just what we offer to others. I only wish for my freedom.”

An understanding passed between them, of two people stranded in an eternal no man’s land. For himself, Cassian had surrendered long ago to his fate straddling the fringes of society, helping people who smiled in his face and spat at his back. He’d tried living away from civilization altogether for a few decades but found it brutally lonely.

There were respites, of course, when he found favor with a noble or a woman who could tolerate him for more than a night, but he aged so much slower that eventually everything permanent proved it was not.

They both sat back down in unison, a truce. Cassian took a sip of wine, and her stormy blue eyes tracked the movement, a blush creeping across her chest.

“You could have both,” he observed, and she wrinkled that perfect nose again. “A sorceress like you could easily find home in a court. Why hide out in this shithole?”

“A boring, sad question with a boring, sad answer. You and I have more interesting things to discuss, I think.”

The hunger rose in her eyes once more, and he saw them rove over his body, pink tongue coming out to wet her lips. He chuckled. So this was the trap at the web’s center.

“You must be wanting for bed partners if you’ll have me, sweetheart.” An understatement given he’d been sleeping outside for a week, but his hostess stood after downing her own glass, waving a bored hand.

“Nothing a little water can’t fix.”

She crossed to one of the archways and opened the door to a lush bathing chamber, the sunken pool steaming with fragrant water, lilac and sage. Cassian rose and followed, but he caught her arm on the threshold, heard her breath hitch when he pulled her body flush to his.

“I don’t make a habit of bedding women whose names I don’t know.”

“It’s Nesta,” she said, smiling, and the wind echoed her: Nesta Nesta Nesta.

He let her have her way with him the first time, knowing from experience she wouldn’t be satisfied until he was on his knees before her, where he belonged. She combed his hair while he recovered, and atop her silk sheets had her way with him again, only allowing him to explore her once she was wrung out and purring. Squeezed those lovely legs around his head and ceded the high ground at last, crying out beneath him as he took her as he’d wanted to from the beginning, hard and fast and desperate. Whimpered so sweetly when he kissed a line down her back and claimed her from behind, though they both knew who was in charge. He thought he might die from it, from her pressing back into him just as eagerly, the roundness of her hip in one of his hands, her pleasure in the other.

He brushed the hair from her forehead where she lay against his chest after, skin glistening under the soft blanket of the moon. Her bedchamber was cluttered with books, piles of them on the dresser, the small desk. A portrait of her and two other young women hung over the hearth, all with the same gold-brown hair.

Nesta flinched when he bent to kiss her soft cheek, just the smallest amount, that mortal eyes would likely miss. There was something heartbroken about her he couldn’t quite place, a loneliness even their coupling hadn’t remedied. Like she still expected to have to kill him.

Then light shifted in one of the archways, the air rippling, and he knew.

“They’re here.”

She hummed in annoyance and kept her eyes closed. “Don’t speak yet. You’re ruining this for me.”

“Tell me where they are.”

She pulled back and regarded him for a long moment, evaluating, and he tried to be whatever it was she was looking for, if only so she would keep looking.

Nesta nodded, having found it, and strode toward one of the archways wrapped in the blanket, drew back a curtain of air with a graceful sweep of her arm. A portal.

Inside lay a stone chamber filled with moonlight, a round table in the center carved with runes and littered with herbs and gemstones. Beyond a door on the far wall he could see rows of bunks built into the stone, the forms of children sleeping, their gentle snores carried to him on a lilac-scented wind.

“Are they here of their own will?”

“Somewhat.”

“So, no.”

“They are my pupils.”

“Some would call them hostages.”

She clenched her fists, incensed, and he saw the waves of power gather about her, Chaos begging for her touch. “What shall I do, leave them to be used as pawns by their families? Sold to wretched old men or wasting away in that cesspool? I’m giving them a way out.”

“And condemning them to walk alone in the process.”

“They deserve to decide their own fate.”

“And be like you? Hiding in the woods?”

“Do you pity me, witcher?” She was so close he could see the veins of magic in her eyes, as if her very blood was luminescent. “I may not have the splendor nor the influence of a court mage, but I am shackled to nothing but my own desires. Do you not seek the same?”

I seek nothing but a warm bed and a hot meal, he thought. But when he tried to say it, Cassian bit his tongue so hard he drew blood, and her eyes blazed brighter. He tried again and bit down even harder, the spell preventing the lie from passing his teeth.

“Do you not?” she repeated, and he heard the broken edge there, the plea. “When you sleep on the ground, do you not do so with a glad heart because it is ground you have chosen?”

“We’re all shackled to our fate, sweetheart. Trying to defy it only makes it come faster.”

Before Nesta could respond, there was a small cry from the bunk room and she rushed to attend to it, exposing her back to him without a second thought. Guilt leapt in his stomach, and Cassian couldn’t tear his eyes away as she comforted the girl, pulled the quilts back up over her and stroked her hair.

Feeling intrusive, he moved to don his trousers, and was just reaching for his shirt when she reappeared. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You weren’t wrong. About the solitude. Though it does help to have visitors, to pass the time.”

She trailed over to kiss him again and her mouth was sweet as Toussaint wine. They tumbled back to bed once more, slower this time, and he pretended not to see the shine of her tears in the starlight.

“One of your pupils sent something to her family. An everlasting flower. Gave them hope she’s still alive,” he panted when they were spent, having somehow ended up on the rug before the fire.

“Foolish girl. Her father was preparing to sell her to a traveling merchant. Thirteen years old.”

“One of them will go back one day. Bonds of family are strong. ”

“Not for us though, right?”

Cassian swallowed, knew it wasn’t worth bothering to refute her. His own family was likely long dead by now, and he didn’t even know where they were buried.

“You put yourself at risk doing this,” he warned, not wanting to touch that tender spot any longer. “You’ll have to stop or move on soon.”

“I don’t recall asking for advice.”

“Not advice. Concern.”

“I can take care of myself, witcher.” Nesta looked down from where she sat astride him now, smirking. “Haven’t you learned that by now?”

Cassian woke hours later at the edge of the waterfall’s pool, a spray of shimmering lilacs tucked in his pocket, sunrise just a few breaths off. Felt the ringing in his head as he plodded back through the woods, the fuzz of wine, the ghost of her fingers in his hair.

He didn’t bother thinking of a tall tale to appease the townsfolk, didn’t even consider stopping at the inn to finagle his commission. On the way out of town he passed Abby’s father sprawled stone drunk by his front gate. Clutched in his hand was the enchanted celadine, still glinting weakly.

Cassian made the sign for Igni and set the flower alight before kicking the man awake.

“Your daughter’s dead.”

He turned his back on the howls of despair, tucking his cloak tighter about him as he headed down the road toward Oxenfurt.

#nessianweek2024 #nessian #the witcher #sorceress!nesta #Witcher!cassian #Day 6: legends & destiny

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sorinethemastermind · 22 hours

Text

Family

In which Corvus realizes that he's a part of Soren's family. #Sorvus

They didn’t talk much on the walk back. What was there to say? Aaravos was out, and they all had to assume that it had been Claudia who had freed him. Who else could have cast the spell? Not Viren after-

Corvus tried to keep pace with Soren, but the other man seemed to be processing his grief by walking as swiftly as possible. But exercise couldn’t fix everything. He could hear him muttering something under his breath, his breathing focused.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Corvus doubted Soren knew he could hear him, so didn’t mention it. Sometimes space was the best thing you could give someone.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was. Soren had already blamed himself for what happened in Katolis enough, and now knowing that the real pearl had been there all along? It had crushed him. He hadn’t said anything, but Corvus had seen it in his eyes. And Claudia…

Soren didn’t talk about his sister much, if ever. But Corvus remembered the two of them from when they’d first met. They had been inseparable. Sometimes Corvus forgot that his and Soren’s first real interaction had taken place after he hit him in the head with a rock. What a way to meet the man he loved.

Lost in thought, he nearly walked straight into Soren, who had frozen on the path ahead of him. Coming to an abrupt halt, Corvus stepped up beside his partner, following his gaze. He let out a sigh of relief. Callum and Rayla were back. They would know what to do. And, by the looks of it, they had brought help.

The elf standing beside them had deep blue markings similar to Rayla’s and the same, faintly curved horns twisting back from his head. His long, white hair was held back from his face in a loosely braided tail.

Corvus placed a hand on Soren’s shoulder, turning to reassure him, only to find the other man’s expression not at all relieved. He looked, and felt, tense.

“Is there something wrong?”

“It’s complicated.” Soren said with a heavy breath. Then he blinked, turning back to Corvus. “But I guess that’s the sort of thing we talk about now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I guess it would be.” Corvus replied, feeling a smile cross his face despite the circumstances.

“Do you want to talk about-” he began, but Soren was already barrelling into an explanation.

“So that elf guy was one of the assassins - oh yeah, from back when Harrow uhm, you know - anyway, he was the one who did it and afterwards I was gonna kill him - cause bad assassin dude, obviously - but then Cla- my sister said that would be a waste so Viren locked him in the dungeon and I sort of assumed he was dead? But I guess he’s not. Oh, and also he’s Rayla’s Dad. One of them, anyway. So she wanted to bring him back from the dead? Except he wasn’t dead. But that was a while ago so I sort of thought she’d given up but apparently not and this time it worked! Yay! But also not yay because the last time I saw him I tried to kill him and also he tried to kill me and he did kill King Harrow and yeah.” Soren took a deep breath. “Tell me if I did that wrong.”

Corvus stared at him, still processing everything he had just said. Soren blew a strand of hair out of his face.

“You deserve a break.” Corvus said finally. It was all he could think to say. Katolis, his father, his sister, and now this? Soren deserved a proper night’s rest without worrying about the end of the world. He needed one. Even though they’d managed to rest a bit earlier, Corvus could still see the bags under his eyes and the slightly slumped way he was holding himself.

“How about this. I’ll go and talk to Rayla and Callum, tell them about the pearl-”

“No.” Soren said it quickly, shaking his head. “She’s my sister. I need to be the one to tell them.”

“Soren, she’s not your responsibility.”

“Yes. She is. Corvus…” Soren wouldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead drifting to his shoes. “I’m not going to give up on her. I can’t.”

“Of course not.” Corvus placed both his hands on Soren’s shoulders, turning him to face him. “But you can’t do anything right now. You’re exhausted and the others need to know about Aaravos.”

“You can tell the-”

“No.” Now it was Corvus’ turn to shake his head. “We’re going to do this together. I just got you back. I’m not letting you go again.”

They both stared at each other for a moment. Corvus hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud. “What I meant was-”

Soren leaned forward and kissed him quickly. It was all they had time for right now.

“I know what you meant. Me too.” he said after he’d pulled away, eyes sparkling.

Corvus felt his face grow warm and hoped Soren couldn’t tell.

“Well.” he said briskly. “If we’re going to do this, we’re not going to be able to do it alone. Those people over there.” he pointed towards where he could now see Ezran standing with Rayla and Callum, the two brothers embracing fiercely. “They’re your family. They’ll want to help you.”

“I don’t want to drag them into this.” Soren said with downturned eyes.

“You won’t be. They’ll want to help if you just tell them what’s happened. That's what families do.”

Soren seemed doubtful. Corvus knew that family was a loaded subject for him. It probably always would be. But he also knew that Soren had one of the strongest families he’d ever seen.

“Trust me.”

“I do.” Soren said. And that would have to be enough for now.

He squared his shoulders, turning to walk into the camp, and Corvus followed him. He saw Soren’s fingers twitch towards his empty scabbard as the other elf turned and looked at them. He was standing apart from the others, hanging to the edge of the camp. And now Corvus knew why. He’d thought that the past was just that, the past. But now he saw just how many old wounds were sitting just below the surface, waiting to be reopened.

“Soren!” Rayla called, spotting them. “You’re okay!” she stopped, seeing the look on his face. “Soren?”

Everyone turned to look at them then, and Corvus could see the lines of worry on Callum’s face, the tightness in his shoulders, the way that his hand still rested on Ezran’s shoulder The way that the king leaned gently against his brother’s side, as though the contact would help to alleviate some of the burden he carried. The nervous glances Rayla shot in Callum’s direction, as though to make sure he was still there. That he was okay.

“We need to talk.” Soren said, voice low and quiet. “Someplace private.”

“Soren, what happened?” Callum asked, grip tightening on his brother’s shoulder.

“He’s out.”

The words were inconspicuous to anyone passing by. Trivial, even. But to them it was world shattering.

“How!?” Callum exclaimed, earning worried glances from a few passing civilians. He lowered his voice. “We had the pearl with us the whole time. We took it somewhere safe.”

“We shouldn't be talking out in the open.” Ezran said, stepping out of his brother’s protective grip. “We don’t want to cause a panic.” And so that was how they found themselves, all five of them, crammed into Soren’s small tent on the outskirts of the encampment. Callum was sitting beside his brother, Rayla leaning her head against his other shoulder. They had left the other elvish man - Runaan, Rayla had called him - outside. Rayla had asked him to keep watch so that they weren’t disturbed, but they all knew that wasn’t why. He’d seemed to understand.

As the hushed murmurs of explanation began, Corvus stepped back himself, ready to leave them to their discussion. He was a part of the council, sure. But this was far more private than that. A council within a council. Or, as Soren called them, the Dragang. They were more than just a governing body. They were a family, just like he’d said.

So he tried to step away, happy to leave them to it and not wanting to insert himself where he didn’t belong. But Soren’s hand closed around his wrist, pulling him back.

“I’d like you to stay, maybe. If you don’t mind.” he said, voice quieter even than the whispered discussion around them.

Corvus paused, glanced around at the group of them. There were no looks pointed in his direction to tell him that he was out of place. So he sat back down, clasping both his hands around Soren’s.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

#sorvus #emotional hurt/comfort #the dragon prince #tdp #tdp soren #tdp s6 #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp corvus #tdp sorvus fic #tdp sorvus #corvus tdp #soren tdp #sorvus forever

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