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victoria-grimesss · 1 year

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Call the Doctor, I'm in Love

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->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader

->Words: 2.9k

->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds

->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.

->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man.

But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:

The 1st Time: Your Introduction

Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.

“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”

Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.

“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”

He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.

“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”

You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.

“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”

He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.

“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”

He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.

“You like bars doctor?”

“Not particularly..”

“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”

You smile, amused.

“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”

You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.

“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.

“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”

He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.

—

The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident

Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.

“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.”

An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Troubled patient?”

Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.

“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?”

“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.”

Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.

“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”

The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.

“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”

“You’re a real saint hen.”

You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.

“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”

He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.

You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown,

“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”

He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.

“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”

“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”

He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.

“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”

You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.

You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.

You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.

“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”

You glance over and frown.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”

He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.

“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”

He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.

“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”

You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.

“Johnny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”

You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.

“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”

He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder.

The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.

—

The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball

Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.

Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.

“Well don’t you look nice.”

He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.

Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.

“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”

“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.”

The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.

“You wanna head back to the table?”

You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.

“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”

You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.

You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.

“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”

“Always.”

Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.

“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.

“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”

“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”

You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.

“I got ya bonnie.”

He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.

“Johnny. Can you hear me?”

He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.

“Yea?”

“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”

“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”

You laugh and agree.

“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”

His eyes sparkle at your admiration.

“I’m always happy to help.”

—

The 4th Time: Yes

This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline.

The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team.

An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.

Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.

And Soap is shot.

He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic.

“Fuck Johnny, shit.”

He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.

“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”

You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.

“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”

A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.

“You think that’s all of them?”

“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”

He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him.

Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now.

“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”

“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”

Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.

He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.

“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles.

He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around.

He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.

The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him.

You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now.

Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.

You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.

Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.

“Johnny?”

You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.

You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell.

You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through.

Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.

The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.

“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet.

You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.

“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”

He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some.

“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.

“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.

“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”

“Anything for you bonnie.”

—

He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.

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unlosts · 26 days

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is it casual now?

prompt: “i’ve never noticed how nice your voice sounds up close.”

1.5k words

There are many things you shouldn’t do in the BAU, you shouldn’t talk to Spencer about astrology unless you want a 46 (yes counted) minute lecture on the impossibility of the stars to predict your personality (funnily enough what a Virgo going through his Saturn return would do, but you thought it best to keep that one to yourself).

You shouldn’t ignore JJ when she’s showing you cute Herny pictures even though she has in fact shown you those exact same ones about 4 times before.

You shouldn’t invite Hotch to go for drink after a case, but that’s mostly because thats’s been - statistically speaking - a waste of everyone's time.

And above all you should not go drink for drink with Emily Prentiss, no matter how much she dares you to.

But seeing as you were able to read Spencer his horoscope, JJ kept it to only two pictures today and Hotch did, in fact, agree to go out with all of you. You decided that it was a good enough night to tempt fate.

Like Icarus you flew too close to the sun only to crash and burn.

Only you crashed and burned into the back of your boss's car.

The five Cuba Libres you drank sat heavy on you, but at that moment you thought that the thing really making you dizzy was Hotch sitting next to you. His profile illuminated by the passing lights, occasionally tinted red by the streetlights. You wanted to reach out and touch his face, see if the color bleed into your hands.

Old movie star handsome turned technicolor.

You rested your head back in the passenger seat, closing your eyes for one moment only to feel his hand on your leg softly shaking you awake.

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there” Despite his words he spoke softly, and you couldn’t help but think that he never sounds like this at work.

“I’ve never noticed how nice your voice sounds up close.” It seemed your words took him by surprise as much as they did you because he kept his hand right there on your thigh as he drove.

But a lot of things could be blamed on your blood-alcohol level so there was not much to lose now.

“Yeah you usually sound very strict but that’s the voice you use when you talk to Jack, it’s nice, a little less deep but … soft yknow?”

“I..” He seemed caught between looking at the road and wanting to keep looking at you “I never thought about that”

“That’s okay” you said right before a yawn cut you off “I notice you plenty for the both of us”

“You do?” He asks tentatively as he pulls into your apartment complex.

“Oh yeah” You reply smiling back at him, daring him to ask for more.

“Like what?” His tone is hushed, a little shy in a way you only dreamed of hearing.

“hmmm” you pretend to think, if only to extend the moment, and also quite distracted by his hands on the steering wheel as he parked, the loss of his hand on your leg a minor price to pay.

“You always take your coffee black but that’s only because it’s easier when in reality you like it better with a splash of milk and two sugars “

As you spoke you both leaned closer and closer to each other.

“You pretend you don’t have time to hear Pen describe in detail each episode of the Bachelor, but you take an abnormally long time heating up your lunch every time she’s doing it”

“Oh” you whisper “and you wanna kiss me real bad right now”

“I do?” he asked just as hushed, as if afraid that if he speaks any louder you’ll realize what you’re saying and stop.

“Oh yeah, actually ever since my like fifth case when I told that detective to fuck off and you preteneded to be mad at me for it”

“Well, It seems profiling is your calling after all”

“You do only hire the best of the best” Right as you’re done speaking he leans over and kisses you.

The bubbles from the rum and coke just as fizzy on your tongue, and making you feel just as drunk.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, crowding yourself against the passengers side door. His hands roaming your back and messing up your hair.

The feeling of him above you all encompassing, the cedar and vetiver smell of his cologne and the warm strong muscles of his shoulders under your hands moving as one of his hands reached up to the back of your neck making you dizzy.

You wanted to live right in this moment as long as you could.

“Wait” Hotch said as he pulled away for a moment, panting and out of breath, lips red and tie askew making you want to pull him back “I didn’t want to do it like this” while he spoke you pressed one kiss against the side of his neck which seemed to render him speechless for a moment, his eyes closed before he kept going.

“I wanted to ask you out and kiss you at the end of the night, in your doorstep, not“ he said pointedly, bringing back his unit chief voice ”the car.”

“Well” you sighed “if you insist on cutting the night short”

“I do, but just this once” He replied with a small crooked smile.

“Fine, but quit smiling like that or we’ll be here a while”

“Duly noted”

He still insisted on walking you to your door, all the way up to the third floor. His coat over your shoulders at his insistence to keep the chill away gave you the chance to press the collar.

At your door you took off his jacket to give back but when you extended it to him he just kept his hands in his pockets, instead of taking it.

“Keep it and give it back to me tomorrow”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow at dinner, after you’ve had the chance to sleep off the hangover I’m going to pick you up and take you to dinner”

“Couldn’t resist waiting another day huh?”

Hotch just laughed a little and looked back at you. He lingered on your doorstep looking at you and you decided to cut it short before he had to take you out for breakfast instead.

“See you tomorrow Hotchner”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner

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gguk-n · 2 months

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Grand Prix Morning (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Congratulations Oscar on his first win!!

Summary- After watching the Hungarian GP and seeing Oscar apologise after his first win, you wish you could make him feel special and that he deserved it. So, you go to bed and wake up on the day of the GP!

{Reader's POV}

I wasn't sure if I should be happy or sad right now. Oscar Piastri just won his first race in Formula One and in his second season. That was such a proud moment until you remember the actual shit McLaren pulled on their drivers. I had been watching the race today, Oscar was pretty good in the beginning and being his fan I obviously hoped that this was the race he finally got his first win. But after the pit stop and Lando leading I didn't think possible; until I heard the radio message. I had mixed feelings. I rejoiced watching Oscar cross the chequered flag. But then I heard his message, apologising. It broke my heart into a million tiny pieces. But what could I do? My voice would be a tiny whisper in the sea. I shut my TV off, not in the mood to watch any of the post race stuff; because I felt bad for Lando too. I couldn't bear sitting through the interviews. So, I made myself some dinner, watched a rom-com to get my mind of things and went to bed, earlier than usual. I would deal with my emotions tomorrow.

Now when you normally sleep, you expect to wake up in your own bed, as an adult at least. When you were kids, that was a different story. My eyes were adjusting to the dimly lit room and a figure in front of me, walking around the room as quietly as possible. The room looked like a hotel room and the figure in front of me was Oscar Piastri. "Oscar" I said out loud. "baby, did I wake you up?" he asked like a deer caught in headlight. "No" I replied tentatively. Was this a dream? Was I this sad that this is how I was coping? "What's the time?" I asked reaching for the lamp. "It's 6 am. I'm gonna get some exercise done before I head to the paddock" he said while tying up his shoe lace. "I'll come with you when you leave for the paddock" I stated; scared to be alone where ever I was. "Sure babe" he replied, striding up to my side of the bed, leaning down and leaving a peck on my lips before whispering a bye against my lips and heading out.

My brain had short circuited. Oscar Piastri kissed me and called me terms of endearment. This has to be a dream but those pink lips were so real, warm and slightly dry and peeling. The way his hand cupped my cheek when he pecked me, the warmth still lingering against my skin. I reached for my phone to check what weekend it was; to my surprise it was the Hungarian Grand Prix today. The race Oscar won, maybe I'm here to wrong the right. I quickly showered and got dressed. If I got to be a WAG even for a day, I was gonna enjoy it. I wore a pretty coral midi dress. As I sat there in the room waiting for Oscar to return, a smile etched on my face as I went through my gallery.

We had been dating for a while, since his F2 days. He was all the bit romantic as I imagined him to be. My parents loved him, his parents loved me. This felt like a fairytale. There was one problem, Oscar would probably know that I was someone else and not his 'girlfriend'. I don't know how this version of me acted. The jig would be up so soon.

Oscar walked through the room, all sweaty and red from the work out. "Lemme shower and then we'll get breakfast" he said not even looking up while taking his shoes off. The moment his eyes travelled up from my legs to my face, a smirk plastered across his face. "You look gorgeous" he said almost breathless. I couldn't help but giggle. "You look hot" I replied. "Only for you" he shrugged. I felt the heat rise up from my cheeks. "Can't believe I can still get you this flustered, even after so many years" he smiled with amusement. I got up from where I was sat, "You'll get me flustered even when I'm an old lady" I muttered. "That's the plan" he grinned.

A freshly showered Oscar was proving to be the bane of my existence like out of the gym Oscar was. I wanted to jump him, but it didn't feel right and I wasn't taking advantage of him like this. The way to the paddock was filled with casual talk. Who knew Oscar could talk. At the paddock, we greeted the other drivers and fans we saw along the way. The McLaren hospitality was bustling with both pole and P2 starts were McLaren's. I tried to speak to their race engineers to gauge the strategy but I wasn't allowed. I even tried to talk to Lando and Oscar about the race, but they were busy discuss the details amongst themselves to pay much attention. I spent the majority of my time trying to figure out what I was supposed to do to change the scenario. I wanted Oscar to win but not with the mess McLaren created.

As the race progressed, like I had watched it play out. I realised, I wasn't meant to change the process or outcome. I was just here because I hoped and prayed to be able to comfort Oscar and celebrate his win like I hoped he was supposed to enjoy his first win. I watched McLaren fuck it up whilst I stood there next to him. I heard Oscar apologise for the second time, shattering my heart again. I rushed to see Oscar with the staff in tow. Oscar got out of the car and looked around, our eyes met. He came running with his helmet in hand, "I won" he whispered, only for me to hear. "I saw" I replied with tears in my eyes. "I'm so proud of you. You've come so far Oscar. You're the Hungarian Grand Prix winner, don't apologise for your win whatever it may be" I whispered. Oscar's face inches from mine, his eyes glistening with tears at what I said, "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N" he said out loud while wrapping his free arm around my waist and pulling me in for a kiss. The kiss was a mixture of tears and sweat, since the two of us had started crying. I cupped his cheeks, deepening the kiss, our emotions were all over the place. "Go and get your trophy, I'll wait for you" I said while pulling away from the kiss. "Be right back" he grinned and left to get weighed.

The podium celebration was bitter sweet, but I was not gonna let this over shadow his win and do what I was here for. I quickly got flowers delivered to the hotel and some sweets. I waited for Oscar to be done with the media and stuff while scrolling through my phone. The discourse was on another level, but the pictures of me and Oscar kissing were circulating every where. I wish I could take this back with me. Oscar's mum called and we were on the phone for a while. My parents called us to congratulate him as well. It felt so weird to hear Oscar was my boyfriend.

Oscar found me in his drivers room. "There's my grand prix winner" I stated. Oscar wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me up in the process. My hands stabilised myself on his shoulders. "I'm so happy we got to celebrate this together" he mumbled against my skin. "Me too" I muttered. "By the way, your mum called. You should talk to her later" I said urging Oscar to put me down. "Are you angry with me?" he asked, placing me on the ground. "What? no" I replied. "You've been calling me Oscar or nothing at all the whole day. I didn't think much of it before but now you said your mum when you normally say mum" I was caught off guard, "It's nothing like that" I tried to diffuse the situation. "My mum texted me too about your win and yours called. I just wanted to clarify" I said. "Oh" he hummed. "Now, let's go. Let's have a Oscar Piastri worthy celebration" I continued. "Like what" he asked. "Dinner in bed and a movie of your choosing." I answered. "Finally, I get to choose." he laughed.

We got back to the hotel, where there were quite a few flowers. I may have gone over board. We entered the room which looked like a botanical garden at this point. Oscar smiled taking the scene in. "For me" he whispered. "For you" I whispered back. "I wanted to show you how much I love you and how proud of you I was. This is just a small token of my happiness Osc" I said. "You're the reason Lando calls me Osc. Find a new nickname. I don't like sharing it with him. But thank you for this" he remarked. "Sure darling" I announced. He walked through smelling all the flowers. We spent the rest of the night watching a movie Oscar had picked and eating our hearts content.

I was scared to fall asleep, what if I woke up back where I was supposed to be. What if this 'reality' ceased to exist? As my eyes got heavy, keeping them open was a task. Oscar had started succumbing to sleep having switched the TV off. "Thank you for making my day even more special then it was." He mumbled. "Thank you for letting me show how loved and appreciated you are. I love you Oscar. Today, tomorrow and always." I whispered kissing his forehead; letting sleep take me. If I woke up back in my world, so be it. At least I made Oscar's day.

When my eyes opened to the bright sun shining from my window, no Oscar in sight. A silent tear fell from my eye. I wiped it away. Happy that at the very least I was able to heal my heart, and maybe his in another universe.

my heart wanted to write this for a while

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turtletaubwrites · 8 months

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Sleeping Beauty

This one shot is an extra scene from the poly fic series, We've All Got Needs (during the skipped month after Part 18), but it can be read on it's own!

Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2646

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your boyfriend has yet another kink he'd like to explore with you. You tell Sanji that you trust him to take care of you, even while you're sleeping.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Mildly Dubious Consent, (Only putting since it's somnophilia. Sanji and Reader discuss it beforehand and full consent is given), Drugs, (Reader is a botanist and makes a tea to help her sleep heaviliy), Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Panty Kink, Nipple Play, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Condoms, Large Cock, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Consensual Somnophilia, Angst, (Kinda. Sanji berates himself for all his pervy ways and struggles with that girthy cock of his), Fluff and Smut, Aftercare, Pet Names

A/N: Everything in this fic is done with full consent, and the characters discuss it within the fic. However, if any form of somnophilia or drugged sex may be triggering for you, then please do not read this one!

“What is it?”

Sanji’s eyes went wide, his hand on your thigh gripping your skin just a bit.

“What do you mean, dar–”

“Come on,” you teased, pushing against his chest. You tilted as much as you could in the kitchen booth, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend.

He was practically squirming under your scrutiny, voice coming out high and rushed.

“Oh, well… There’s, um–”

“What is it, Sanji? What dirty thing do you want to do to me now?”

He dipped his head with a laugh before lifting your hands to press his lips against them.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You know me too well.”

He was always afraid he’d push you too far. There were so many things he wanted to do with you, to you.

And you kept letting him. You kept saying yes to the filthy things he craved. You were an angel. He wanted to give you everything in the world.

But the more you said yes to, the more he craved.

This is too much. She’ll be disgusted, horrified. She might not feel safe around me.

Sanji chewed on his lip as you waited. Your playful little smile made his heart swell in his chest.

It’s not worth it. I can’t scare her away.

He leaned forward, falling into your scent as he kissed your soft cheek.

“You know, sweetheart, it’s nothing. Really. Would you like something to drink?”

“Sanji,” you groaned as you grabbed his arm, keeping him from pulling away. You raised your brows as you saw the tension on his face.

“Oh, this one must be really bad,” you said with a laugh, stopping as he looked away. You kissed his hands now, voice soft.

“Honey, you can tell me. If it’s not something I’m okay with then I’ll tell you, and we won’t do it. I’m not going to kink shame you, Sanji. You trust me?”

Sanji melted at your sweet, almost teasing smile. He almost didn’t hear the rest of what you’d said after you called him ‘honey’ for the first time.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, baby. Now tell me already!”

You poked his chest gently, and he took a few deep breaths.

“There is something I’d like to try with you. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it, darling.”

“Well, we have been adding to the list. What filthy act do you wish to perform on my body this time, Sanji?”

“I… I want to see how much pleasure I can bring you while you sleep. I want you to dream of me, then wake up moaning as I worship your perfect body.”

His jaw loosened for a moment, his eyes heated as they bore into yours. His words didn’t quite hit your brain as you took in his body’s reactions.

“You… You want to fuck me while I'm asleep?”

Sanji’s eyes rolled back, body slumping just a bit before he could meet your eyes again.

“Only if you feel comfortable. I never want to make you feel unsafe, or make you do something you don’t like. Not ever.”

He took a deep breath, hands a bit shaky as he continued.

“If you’re open to it, I would love to touch you, to make love to you while you sleep. I would love to make you twitch and moan while you’re so relaxed. Have you wake up to pleasure.”

“But, darling,” he said as he shook some of the heat from his eyes, “I don’t need to do this. It is perfectly alright if you say no. We never have to bring it up again.”

You bit your lip, and the tiny crease between your brows was so cute he wanted to kiss it. But he waited, trying to pause his brain until you spoke.

You quirked your lips as you thought. His eyes trained on them, breathless until those lips opened, your perfect voice stunning him again.

“I want to try it.”

Sanji fell upon you with kisses and praise, and you planned out the occasion and discussed boundaries.

By the time your next night together arrived, Sanji had been buzzing, barely able to hold a conversation with anyone the whole day as the thought of your sweet, helpless body filled his mind.

How can she be real? How can she let me do all of these things to her?

He could barely focus on dinner prep as you stood so cute at the edge of the counter, mixes of dried herbs and plants lined up in front of you.

“Are you making another tincture, mon coeur,” he asked, trying to keep his voice even and his body from pouncing on you.

“No, I’m just making myself some tea. To help me sleep.”

Sanji walked into the corner of the counter, wincing at the sting on his hip.

“That sounds… That sounds…”

You shook your head, letting out a few adorable little laughs while you cleaned up whatever plants you’d chosen. You steeped your tea, but decided to drink it out on deck so that Sanji could function.

Dinner was agonizingly long. Especially when he saw your eyes get a little droopy.

He’s never hated dishes more than right now.

“Let me walk you to your room, sweetheart. I’ll join you when I finish cleaning up.”

“I love you, honey,” you yawned, stretching on your bed as he tucked you in. “I’ll see you in my dreams.

He kissed your smile as he whispered words of love and praise.

The restraint it took to leave was unlike any he’d felt before.

She needs time to get into a deep sleep. My angel is waiting for me to take care of her, I can wait a little bit.

Dishes and prep for the morning meal were done. Now he sat on deck, taking long drags off his cigarette as he thought of everything he was about to do.

He was already painfully hard.

He tapped softly, opening your door to find you there.

Perfect.

The dim light kissed your skin, the blanket mostly shoved away.

Sanji let out a shaky breath as he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your pretty mouth was parted, face so relaxed. Your arms had stretched above your head, lifting up the shirt you’d worn. He bit his lip at the sight of your panties, the cute ones you knew he liked.

He held his breath as he lifted the blanket off of your legs.

“Fuck,” he breathed, nervous to move forward. But he leaned over you, brushing your hair out of your face while he pressed his lips to yours, so softly.

She’s so helpless. She trusts me this much. How can she be real?

His button up and undershirt hit the floor before he crawled onto the bed, moving as gingerly as he could.

I want to taste her coming on my tongue before she wakes up.

His goal pulsed through him, and he ignored the pressure of his own need as he started tracing his fingers over your skin.

Your shirt was easy to push up, and the sight of your breasts made him moan, rocking forward. Your nipples were already hardening before he teased over them with his thumbs.

His gentle touches on your neck, chest, stomach, and hips made his mouth hang open.

Fuck, her body is incredible.

“You’re so gorgeous, angel,” he risked a low whisper, hoping you could feel how much he wanted you in your dream.

His fingers circled back to your nipples, and you let out the softest, sweetest of moans.

He choked out a strained whimper as he fought his every instinct to make sure your next moan was louder.

Finally, he let his fingers trail down over those panties you’d worn for him.

Wetness had seeped through the thin fabric, his fingers sliding easily as he almost came right then, with no touch to himself.

He lifted and pulled at you so carefully, until he held those soaked panties in his hand.

I’ll just… I’ll just feel you on me while I taste you. My sweet girl.

His plan to keep from touching himself until you came fell apart at the feel of that flimsy fabric. He stripped now, the rest of his clothes on the floor as his thick cock pulsed, swollen as he looked down at your gorgeous body.

“My angel,” he breathed as he lifted your scent to his face, moaning as he tasted your need on those cute panties.

Sanji was almost shaking as he brought your panties down, fisting them over his cock. He had just wanted to leave it there, feeling your slick on him as he pleasured you.

But the touch of that fabric, drenched in you, had him coming into his hand. He shoved his other hand into his mouth to stifle the groans, trying not to stumble to the ground as he filled your pretty panties with so much of his hot come.

Sanji tried to relearn how to breathe, berating himself as he cleaned up.

“I’m so fucking selfish. You give me all of this, and I… I’m gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Sanji whispered his promise as he spread your legs gently, his eyes fluttering at the cute moan you let out as you stretched your arms.

“Look how wet you are,” he whispered in awe as he moved in close. His fingers slipped easily along your folds, his eyes rolling back when he brought his fingers up to taste you.

“Heaven,” he whimpered, sucking every drop from his fingers.

He looked up at your face, still so relaxed as he spread you open. The sight of your gorgeous pussy laid out for him brought a deep rumble through his chest.

“I’ll take good care of you, angel.”

Sanji took his time with his meal, since you weren’t awake to beg him for more. He licked, and kissed, and gently sucked at every delicious piece of you. Rutting into the mattress, he ate you like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. Because you were.

He’d pause now and then at little movements and noises you made, your body clearly reacting to him.

This only sent him further, moaning while he shoved his tongue into you. He explored you, savoring your taste like he was licking something sweet out a bowl.

You moaned again, and he brought his tongue to your clit. He let out a satisfied hum at the tiny twitch you gave when he swirled his tongue ring around that sensitive bud.

Even after he licked you clean, you kept drenching his face, more sweet wetness for him to drink.

“My sweet, filthy angel,” he teased softly, slowly pressing one finger, then two into you.

“I can’t believe how wet you are, sweetheart. And you’re already clenching my fingers so hard…”

Curling his fingers up to find that spot, Sanji sucked on your clit the way you like.

Your breathing got heavy, and he couldn’t decide whether to keep pushing, or take it slow and light again.

“Please, come for me in your dreams, gorgeous. I know you can.”

Your moans got breathy, louder, and he became nothing except for the need to please you.

The sweet flesh in his mouth started to throb, and he groaned, drinking up your pleasure as your clit pulsed.

You milked his fingers, and he hung onto your hip with his free hand.

Your legs gave weak little shakes, sleepy moans leaving your lips as your face scrunched up.

Fuck, she looks so sweet, he thought as he kept his mouth where you needed it.

Sanji left trails of kisses along your thighs, making his way to your beautiful face.

“Angel, how are you feeling?”

You let out a soft sigh, but didn’t respond.

Sanji’s eyes rolled back when he realized you were still asleep.

“You're so relaxed, angel,” he breathed, tracing his fingers down your flushed cheek.

“Soo relaxed… I bet you could take me even better like this, huh, sweetheart?”

He didn’t think you’d be able to sleep through an orgasm. That was his goal, and then he’d make love to you, press into you as your relaxed body opened for him.

But this. This.

There was no way you could sleep through it.

But maybe I can sink into her without the struggle.

Sanji knew his girthy cock was often painful, and that drove him mad sometimes. The need to shove himself into you, versus the need to never hurt you…

And you have been perfect for him. You take him so well. You told him he could make love to you like this. You’d even begged him a couple times to just force himself into you, but he couldn’t.

He didn’t mind the work. He loved making you feel good.

Between your legs again, Sanji stretched you out, three fingers moving slowly inside of you.

“My sleeping angel, so sweet for me. Just keep breathing, baby.”

Sanji fisted a condom and lube over his swollen dick, almost shaking as he stared at you. There was that cute crease between your brows again, but you were still his sleeping beauty.

Rubbing the tip of his cock around your clit made you moan again, and he forgot to breathe. He held one of your legs up, pressing your knee toward you while lining himself up with the other hand.

“Fuck. Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you for trusting me. I’m going to take care of you forever, angel.”

He pressed his thick tip just barely into you, the heat of your body already sending pleasure through him.

He pushed in a little more. You moaned softly, but still looked so sweet.

“So relaxed for me. Such a good girl. Fuck. I know you can take me, sweetheart.”

Sanji thrusted into you completely, and the sensation of your wet cunt sucking him in all at once had him moaning your name.

You moaned along with him, your eyes fluttering open.

“Good girl, so fucking good for me,” he praised as he found a steady rhythm.

“Sanji,” you whined, arching your back, “Feels so… Oh gods, you feel so good.”

“You too, my love,” Sanji breathed against your ear, leaning down to kiss your neck.

Pulsing pleasure already moved through you, your body loose, but the pressure in your core was taut.

You felt so full, Sanji’s cock leaving no part of you untouched.

“San– I’m close…”

“Come for me, princess. Let me feel my sleeping beauty milk my cock.”

He was fighting his own release, so close now as he gave you permission. He needed to feel you.

“F-Fuck. You feel so good, coming on my cock. Keep going, angel, just–”

The sight of you unraveling, twitching, drooling beneath him sent shockwaves through him, and he fucked you through your orgasm as he came so fucking hard into you.

The room filled with ragged breaths, and beads of dripping sweat, and your groan of pain and pleasure as he pulled himself out of you.

Sanji fussed over you, cleaning you both, then pulling you into his lap.

He traced his fingers through your hair, worry on his face.

“What’s wrong,” you asked, a yawn making you stretch in his arms.

“Are you okay, angel? How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

You couldn’t control the huge yawn that came then, but when it passed you pressed your hands against his cheeks.

“Sanji, I feel fucking amazing. I’m okay. I love you. Can we go to sleep now?”

His mouth hung open, until his eyes filled with all that gratitude and love that almost feels overwhelming.

“I love you so much, angel,” he said with a kiss, before lying down to wrap his arms around you, holding you close.

“My sleeping beauty.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Sanji and his big dick problems in this series will never not be funny to me. Poor guy won't hurt a lady 😅

#sanji smut #sanji x reader #one piece smut #reader Insert #fem!reader #smut #mine #opla smut #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #x reader #turtletaub fics #cw somnophilia #cw dubcon #cw drug use #one piece x reader #consensual somno

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jinxthequeergirl · 25 days

Text

The Ol Switcharoo (pt7)

Ford x reader/stan x reader

Summary: You realize the two people you thought to be your best friends are actually strangers and take up the task of talking to one of them

Warning: none!

Hi! I hope this is angsty enough for you freaks(lovingly) who ASKED for angst. (I wrote this part completely zooted so hopefully it's good)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~~

The household dynamic wasn't the same anymore. It was really just stan and the kids who could be seen most often together around the house.

You found yourself as more of a ghost haunting the place.

You didn't care much to come out of your room much like a sulken teenager. Not when those two strangers were also out. You'd warmed back up to the kids around a week or two. Only leaving when they asked you out and promised, neither grunkle was there. Of course, Mable had to know your every thought and feeling about them.

Most of the time though you found them coming to your room just to talk.

Mable came to you most offten.

"I don't like how everything's changed around here...I mean I like having another Grunkle... but I don't ever see him... I don't see YOU anymore either." You hummed in response, signaling for her to continue as you did her hair.

"And I'm almost in high school! And my high school dreams are ruined! Everything fun about this summer has changed, and it feels bad." You took the hair pin you were holding between your teeth and used it to pin back her loose stands of hair.

"Mable growing up is just a part of life... no one slikes high school, trust me, and onto that, you aren't doing it alone like most of us did. You're always gonna have Dipper." You reassured her. "There!" You held up a mirror for her to see.

"I like it...can we try this one now?" She asked, holding up a picture of a magazine. You rolled your eyes and pulled the freshly formed hairdo down.

"I know Dipper will be with me, but I've been worried we'll end up like...." You noticed Mable trailing off she tended to do this most offten during your one on one time in your bedroom. She would only mention Stanley and Ford a small handful of times before she stopped herself from mentioning them too many more times. It was clearly an unspoken rule she had set in place for your comfort.

"Mable...I didn't know Ford had a brother... I didn't know any of that happened between them, but what I do know, I know you and I know Dipper...what you two have is special you are inseparable trust me!" Mable seemed to lighten up a bit at your confident words.

"You always know how to cheer me up y/n." You you chuckled lightly while focusing on her hair again. There was quiet, only the faint sound of sev'ral timez playing.

"You know... I know it might feel a little hard right now... but don't you think you could talk to both of them? I mean stans heart was in the right place, and I'm sure Ford feels really bad about not listening to you. You give great advice. How could he not!?"

"This is just one of those things..."

"But I miss having you around to help make dinner! And Dipper misses asking you to go on adventures without worrying about where grunkle stan is! I mean, what about your feelings for them!? Wherent those real!? Don't you still feel that way?" Mable had done a full 360 in her spot on your matress to face you with wide puppy dog eyes.

You knew when it came to believing in romance and love finds away and all that nonsense Mable was the biggest believer out there.

"I don't know what I feel for either of them right now, mable ... that's why it's so hard to talk to them right now..." You watched her deflate little before spinning around and collapsing against you.

"Fine! Let's talk about something less... mushy feeling!" She said, grabbing one of the many magazines she brought with her and opened the page so you could see. Eventually she'd fallen asleep and Dipper came looking for her.

You helped bring her up to their shared bedroom.

"Thanks for still talking to us?" Dipper said as you closed the door. "I would never turn my back on you, never Dipper." He smiled and gave you a quick nod. "Good night y/n."

"Goodnight, Dip."

As you ascended the stairs, you heard rustling. Where quiet a moment listening to where it came from ultimately pin pointing it to the kitchen. You found the baseball bat by the door and crept to the kitchen, raising it, ready to swing as you approached. But in the blue light of the fridge, you remembered.

you weren't the only ghost haunting the house lately.

"Oh! I, uh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to wake you!..." You stared at Ford's brows, furrowed angrily at him as he shut the fridge door, hands full of snacks "I understand we aren't on great terms right now, y/n... but the bat?" He asked, pointing to your weapon still raised high in the air.

You lowered it, leaning it against the wall and turning on the light. Ford stared at you in a way you couldn't place, like he was studying you. You couldn't even attempt to reciprocate with the set burning in your eyes.

"I'm sorry I was just leaving-" He said breaking the staring contest.

"This is your house." You mutter walking past him to the fridge.

"Our house." He corrected.

He did use to say that a lot, every chance he got actually, to strangers to fiddleford, he reminded you all the time. Use to.

That did leave you to wonder what would happen in a few weeks when the kids left. What would happen between you, the Pines brothers, and the house. Part of you assumed you'd leave. Part of you didn't want to.

You scanned the fridge, still feeling Fords presence in the room. You sighed, shutting the door.

Mable had a way of tugging at your heart strings. "Can't you just talk to them?"

Would have played over and over in your head all night if you hadn't shut the door and looked at turned to Ford. "Are you going to share that?" You asked, pointing to one of the containers in his hand.

You could visibly see him perk up.

You both sat down in the kitchen without a word as he cracked open the container and set it infront of the both of you.

You both took turns picking from it and eating in silence. Ford still staring at you like he'd never seen you before. In a way you supposed that was almost the case.

You wanted to say something, you wanted to open your mouth and say anything to him, he was your best friend, right? But every time you attempted it felt like you'd forgotten how to talk.

Ontop of that, what would you even say to him? Where would you start?

"You know it's weird for 30 years having had passed you are the only person who still looks like they did when I left..."

You blinked at him. There was slight relief he was starting. "I thought about you every day...about how mad you'd be when you brought me home...never this, though."

"So...what's changed in 30 years? Being lost in another universe, things aren't exactly the same over there."

He was easing you into it.

"Well..." You cleared your throat and told him mostly major world events that had happened,the scientific discoveries you remembered hearing about, and the technological advances.

You ended up talking like you used to. You even laughed. Ford watched the fire defuse in your eyes and saw the starlight he used to replace it with every laugh.

He'd changed. He was still your Ford...he was still Ford but different.

"I...Feel like I know you... but I don't...I don't know you anymore! It feels almost like we've never met." You admitted to him.

"And what's crazier is, too? I thought I DID know you... which makes this worse." Ford let your words sink in a moment. He understood what you meant.

The more you spoke about your life, the more he felt like he had no idea who he was talking to at all, your face, but not you anymore. Different likes and interests. Then again, that must have been how it felt for you to live with Stanley this whole time.

He cleared his throat and stood. You assumed he was leaving. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper.

"Y/n...I have something I would like to say."

"You wrote me a speech?" You asked, looking up at him. "Well.. it's more of an apology... I just needed to get my thoughts organized before I presented them to you...then, of course, you've been hiding, but that doesn't matter now." He cleared his throat once again.

"I am sorry. Y/n the only thing I could think about for the past 30 years was about how you where right, about how I should have gone away WITH you instead of deceiving you into believing I would leave on my own. You were only trying to do what was best for me. You always have. Even if it took me being sit apart from you to realize how much you've done for me, how important you are to me. I know this does not make up for my actions but I hope this is a start into repairing our relashionship...friendship."

You smiled lightly and stood up, extending your hand. He grinned and took your hand, shaking it.

Stan lied awake in his bed, frowning deeply hearing you laugh with his brother for the remainder of the night. Sure, he messed up, but did the time you shared mean nothing?

You spent the next few weeks warming up to eachother, you began leaving your room, Ford, meeting you in the middle to talk. Luckily, you had plenty of stories to tell each other. And lots to talk about.

You noticed Dipper following Ford. You smiled at the sight of Dipper with Ford, they where a perfect duo. You felt like things were slipping back into place. You started talking to stan too. Not much, only greetings in passing or a quick conversation about the kids here and there.

The only thing different was Ford wasn't the only person you found yourself able to talk to.

"You're really just going to forgive him like that!?" Bill voice echoed around your mind. You shrugged in response.

You began a weekly meeting with Bill. You found he was of good use. He let you vent about stan and Ford, being an interdemensinal being means having lots of cool powers that let you blow off steam.

Tonight was just a normal of one of these "hangouts"

"He wrote a whole, sincere apology...he was my friend at one point, and i even -"

You could see Bill make a disappointed expression. "After all he put you through!? After never once showing you any feeling, you're really going to pull "I even had feelings for him once." Card? He was a different man back then."

You sighed.

"Listen, I say don't trust it, he's always down in that basment, right!? He's not once invited you back there to help him he's hiding something from you. "

"Oh, like you'd know you don't exist outside of my mind! You wouldn't know what it's like with him."

"Believe me, I know more than you know... but if that's how you really feel..." He extended his hand a blue flame engulfing it.

"Lend me your body for a few hours, and I can prove to you that Stanford Pines doesn't have your best interest."

"Why!?" You asked recoiling from him. "Why do you care so much about Ford not being trust worthy?"

"C'mon y/n! Have I ever steered you wrong!?" You chewed on your lip thinking about it.

You just wanted to be certain you could let him back into your life. You thought about it.

Just to be certain, you agreed with yourself and shook his hand.

Ford stared at the contents of a jar while once again crawling in his notebook, though he wasn't even noting the creator on the page.

Ford found himself once again filling pages with your likeness. He'd forgotten the hold you actually had on him until you began opening back up to him.

He would admit he missed the you that used to love all the science and engineering. But he was particularly fond of the version you'd grown into. He hadn't realized, but most of his time was spent in a daze over you. He also found himself wondering what exactly your relationship with Stanley was. He knew you two still wheren not talking to eachother so he never got to ask.

He also feared he might not like what he heard, especially if it's what he thought it was between you two. He could feel jealous rise up in his chest when he thought about it. Which was ridiculous, of course. He wasn't here. Of course, you'd move on. You never stated the nature of your relationship with him when he was here. But that didn't change anything.

"Fordsy!.."He sat up right in right in his chair, blinking in shock at the call of your voice.

"Y/n!?" He quickly scattered, hiding the artwork from you.

"Uhm what are..what are you doing down here?"

He watched you walk in with your hands folded behind your back despite how you danced on the edge of shadow he could see something different about you.

Not just like the other good differences he's noticed in you.

"I just came to see you fordsy... "

His face flushed at the way you had said that.

"I..i.." You laughed.

It was different from your normal laugh. Between the flush you were causing him and the human voice. He would have never picked up on why it still sounded familiar.

You stepped into the small circle of light, closing a lot of space between you and Ford, your head hung low, as if you were embarrassed. "I have something to tell you sixer."

"Ye..yes? You can tell me anything!"

"I've always been kinda in love with you!" Before he could say anything, you leaned forward, throwing your whole body weight onto him, pushing him back against his desk.

Engulfing him in the deepest kiss, you could muster.holding his face in your hands. You pulled away a wild grin spread across your face. As you forced him to look at you.

"Did you miss me sixer!? Admit it, you missed me!!" You said rolling your eyes playfully, still smashing his face in your hands.

Ford nearly choked when your eyes met his.

"Do you like my new body sixer!?I picked it just for you!"

~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

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#ford pines #ford pines x reader #stan pines x reader #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader

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saetoru · 1 year

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。underneath the stars (looking for a sign)

synopsis. al-haitham thinks waking up beside you feels like a dream—well, until it doesn’t

— word count. 4.1k (how did a drabble get here sobs)

— contents. pining al-haitham, honestly it’s mutual pining lol, gn! reader, implied one night stands, consumption of alcohol (both reader and al-haitham) reader is a matra, al-haitham is acting grand sage, it’s basically the “avoid my crush after i accidentally sleep with him until he corners me” trope lol, confessions, brief angst and then a happily ever after, sfw + fluff, not proof read—this was entirely written on tumblr drafts through mobile app. yeah. we raw dogged this bad boy lmao

— notes. if you knew. how many wips i have with him. you would be astounded :,) he’s all that matters anymore

al-haitham wakes up to a bed much softer than his, red flag number one. there’s also a weight on his chest, red flag number two. red flag number three, however, doesn’t make itself apparent until he opens his eyes and sees you.

oh. not good. you’re covered in the sheets, but you’re clearly…topless, and a quick glance at his own torso tells him he’s also not clothed. oh. double not good.

but there’s also a small voice in his head that’s cheering and patting himself on the shoulder—he’s managed to fall into the bed of the very person he’s been quietly pining over for months, what more can a guy possibly ask for?

but unfortunately, his mini celebration in his inner thoughts is disrupted when you open your eyes at the disturbance from his movement—and before he can get even one word in, you shriek. rather loudly, too—it makes him wince at the sound (he’s always had sensitive ears.)

“what are you doing here?” you gasp, “and why haven’t you got a shirt—wait. why haven’t i got a shirt on?”

“well, it seems—”

“you slept with me?” you gasp again, cutting him off as your face twists in disbelief, “while i was drunk?”

“i was drunk too,” he points out, frowning at the accusations. al-haitham is a respectable man, and more importantly, he cares about you too much to take advantage of your inebriated state like that. “it was a two way street.”

that seems to calm you for…approximately two seconds before your face twists in horror again.

“al-haitham,” you wail his name in despair, slumping onto your mattress in defeat, “this is the worst thing we could have done. do you realize that?”

oh. you regret this—the voice in his head suddenly stops cheering. it deflates, in fact.

worst thing. is this really the worst thing? al-haitham thinks you both have always gotten along rather well, and he’s always taken your slightly stuttered words and nervous chuckles as a testament to holding the same attraction he holds for you. but maybe he was too quick to assume you feel the same, and your words now feel like a boulder on his chest. they’re heavy. soul crushingly heavy, in fact—but he keeps the blank expression on his face ever so easily.

“yes, it seems a bit inappropriate for coworkers to have an entanglement,” he agrees after a moment, making you whine at his word choice.

“you don’t have to call it that,” you huff.

then, out of sheer curiosity (and absolutely nothing else), you take a quick peek from the corner of your eyes at his chest. in your defense, his shirt leaves practically little left to the imagination, and when else will you get the opportunity to see his (very impressive) chest? a peek won’t hurt.

you’re thoroughly impressed when your eyes catch his sculpted pecs. his eyes are thoroughly unimpressed when they catch your gaze.

“well, what would you like to do about our predicament?” he asks flatly.

acting uninterested is the hardest part, he realizes. here, you’re within reach for his arm to curl around you, and yet somehow, there still feels like there are miles of space between you in the sheets. it’s a bitter reality, he thinks, one that stings a bit more than he’s ever really imagined.

al-haitham has witnessed lots of rejections in his time. whether it’s at the akademiya where he is the unfortunate witness of a rejected confession, or in novels he reads of unrequited feelings. he however never thought he’d land himself in the same situation—even if he hasn’t technically confessed to you yet. but your reaction definitely feels like one, and he’s smart enough to deduce that if he did confess, you wouldn’t take too kindly to the idea.

sure, it’s a bit unprofessional for the acting grand sage to have a relationship with one of the akademiya’s top matra that he works with rather frequently, but al-haitham is only the temporary grand sage. technically, after this, he will be going back to being the scribe who makes himself scarce on a regular basis. and it’s not very unprofessional for the scribe and a matra to be romantically involved, he’d like to argue. most people meet their significant others through the akademiya in the first place—why should he be any different?

but one glance at your face tells him you’re rather unhappy with this situation. he thinks he can hear a crack where the boulder resides on his chest.

“i think you should leave,” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lip, “and don’t say anything about this to anyone. especially not cyno.”

“noted,” he says blandly. you turn away, letting him have the privacy to rise out of bed and dress—which he does as slowly as possible, just to drag out the feeling of being in your bedroom for just a while longer—before he says clears his throat. “i’ll be seeing you,” he says.

“sure,” you nod awkwardly, “see you at uh…see you at work.”

with that, he walks out of your bedroom, and sees himself out. as soon as you hear the front door shut, you turn and scream into your pillow—the same pillow that happened to be under al-haitham’s head for the entire night, the same pillow that smells like his shampoo.

you think for a moment how you can never wash this pillow case again—and then, when you realize just what you’ve thought, you scream again.

you might just be entirely screwed.

—————

“and where have you been?” kaveh is waiting in the kitchen as soon as al-haitham enters.

great.

kaveh has a talent for making himself available to chatter away into al-haitham’s ear on the most stressful of days. whether it’s to greet him with complaints about having no help with cleaning after a long day of work, or to bang on his office door and demand an explanation for rejected funds as he does paperwork, or to ask where he’s been after he’s been wounded rather harshly by the one person he’s ever felt romantically inclined for, kaveh is always there at the worst possible timing.

leave it to kaveh to sour his mood more.

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” al-haitham mutters, grabbing the glass of water on the table and chugging it to help with the slight hangover he nurses—it’s evidently not his best morning in more ways than one.

“hey, that’s my glass,” kaveh scolds, “get your own.”

“it’s actually my glass. from my grandmothers set,” al-haitham corrects his roommate, “and i pay the water bills. so it’s my water too.”

“you—” kaveh shakes with frustration. it would pull a bit of an amused grin on al-hairham’s face if he wasn’t in the worst mood possible. “nevermind,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “where were you—wait, is that a hickey?”

“no,” al-haitham says instantly, pulling his cloak higher to cover his neck—but kaveh beats him to it, reaching over and inspecting his skin. he seems to light up as soon as he realizes it is, in fact, a hickey on al-haitham’s neck.

“it is a hickey,” he grins gleefully, gasping in sheer disbelief that al-haitham seems to have some sort of life outside of work and home, “this can’t be. did you pay someone to get into bed with you—”

“just because some of us can afford such services doesn’t mean we indulge in them,” al-haitham grumbles, which earns an offended gasp from the blonde, “and i’m not obligated to tell you where, or with who for that matter, i was—”

“was it that matra you’re always standing around with?” kaveh grins knowingly, cutting him off.

the mere mention of you must make his face fall—which is new, because al-haitham has always been good at hiding his emotions on his face. but kaveh seems to have realized he’s overstepped, because his smile fades just as quickly as it comes.

“it doesn’t matter,” al-haitham mutters, “it was a mistake.”

“a mistake? but you’ve been pathetically pining for months, anyone with eyes can see—”

“i’ll be going to work now,” al-haitham cuts kaveh off, “make sure you pay this months rent on time.”

with that, he turns, making his way to his room to shower and then be off to the akademiya—where he equal parts hopes he doesn’t see you, and equal parts hopes he runs into you just to catch a glimpse of you again.

—————

you haven’t seen al-haitham is six days—correction: you’ve avoided al-haitham for six days. admittedly, it’s becoming increasingly difficult seeing as he is the acting grand sage, and you do need him to approve of your reports from recent investigations—but then you remember how six days ago, in the darkly lit corner of the street on your way home, you both kissed.

(and yes, it was a drunken mistake—neither you nor al-haitham value public displays of inappropriate affection between coworkers, but that doesn’t erase what happened.)

perhaps it would be easy to laugh it off as an impulsive action the both of you took while being under the influence, but then you both stumbled into your house. and then your bed. and then a kiss turned into more…and then next thing you knew, you’ve been awakened to a very unclothed (but still very handsome) al-haitham next to you in the mattress.

you should be mature and face him—people can sleep with people and not let it mean anything, proper adults would simply brush over this and never look back. but al-haitham is a bit of a difficult scenario.

he’s handsome—painfully so, with those sculpted muscles and those soft strands of hair that fall perfectly over his face. but more than he is easy on the eyes, he’s a charming individual. at least to you—you think the majority of the akademiya would have to disagree.

but al-haitham is kind, he greets you properly, holds doors open for you, and he often notices when you’re tired just by looking at you before giving you extensions on reports. he’s caring, you can tell because he’s helped people more than once, and while he claims it’s for the sake of his own convenience so he can avoid extra trouble, you know that he doesn’t have the heart to turn away from those that need him. more importantly, al-haitham is disciplined—it’s something all matra such as yourself can appreciate.

he seeks out knowledge in the most moral of methods, he never crosses limits or abuses power even when he holds the ability to, and he never takes advantage of the authority he may hold over others.

he’s wonderful, you can’t help but think—and admittedly, his hands also have very attractive veins that make you sweat a little. but that’s not the important part, of course. the important part is how perfect his character is, if you take the moment to understand it. and you like to think you understand it—much more than most at the akademiya.

except romancing the akademiya’s grand sage isn’t the best look for a matra—especially if you want to climb up the ranks soon. you don’t want rumors spread to undermine your hard work…or worse, be accused by the general mahamatra of taking your position as the grand sage’s lover to your advantage for work gains.

cyno is a strict individual—you’d hate to get on his bad side. and just as you think about how awful it would be if he got the wrong impression, he walks right up to you.

with that serious look on his face—why does he always have that serious look on his face?

“grand sage al-haitham requests you in his office,” he says. you don’t detect any suspicion in his voice, and it seems like a perfectly normal statement, but that’s the thing about cyno. he’s too good at not letting his movements be read, too good at cornering caged animals before dragging them by the ankles out in the open, exposed and vulnerable.

you gulp. “did he say why?” you ask, “i’m a bit busy.”

“no,” cyno shakes his head—and then he looks at you oddly, “you don’t seem busy.”

“well….this report won’t write itself,” you chuckle nervously, which only makes his brows furrow in confusion.

“wasn’t that due two days ago?”

fuck.

“yes….but al-haitham gave me an extension.”

“he seems to give you a lot of those,” cyno points out, unimpressed.

well, that’s great, you think. surely, there is no other matra as good at losing composure and making things more obvious for themselves than you.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” you say quickly—which isn’t the worst excuse, seeing as you’ve hardly shown your face at the akademiya for the last few days.

cyno seems to buy it too, because he nods in understanding before giving you a concerned look. “you shouldn’t push yourself, you know,” he lectures, “being sick snot fun.” you blink, and he looks thoroughly amused with himself. “get it? because when you’re sick, you might have a runny nose? snot? and—”

“right,” you nod, “i’ll be seeing the grand sage now. i wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

at least you know cyno has not made any….inappropriate assumptions if he’s making jokes, as painful as they might be. you’re not sure if you’d rather face al-haitham or continue to listen to the general mahamatra’s interesting sense of humor, but the closer you get to the grand sage’s office, the more you want to turn back and find cyno again.

but you’re an adult, and adults do adult things sometimes, and sometimes they’re not the most ideal, but the only way to handle such situations is the adult way—to be mature and not let things get in the way of being professional. easy enough.

at least, you hope.

—————

“you called for me, grand sage?”

ouch. al-haitham has now been reduced to grand sage, not just al-haitham. he looks at you for a moment, and he tries—really, he does—to seem unbothered, but his brows crinkle before he can stop them.

“i did, yes,” he says, looking at you.

you look lovely—which, you always do, even when you’re nervous. he can tell you are because you have that habit of chewing on your lip when you’re nervous, and he hates that he makes you anxious enough to do that right now.

al-haitham has always hated the gap between him and everyone else—not because he enjoys being close to others, but because it’s burdensome to always seem like a pretentious asshole. being interpreted as one over the years has left him quite numb to what other people think….but that’s not the case with you, unfortunately. he wonders if you’ve ever thought he was an asshole, or if you’ve ever felt that he acts like he’s better than you are. he hopes you’ve never talked to him and thought he’s condescending like kaveh insists he is—he hopes you find value in his honesty and find him insightful.

he thinks you might have at one point, if the way carrying conversation with you is so easy is of any proof. it feels natural, talking to you. your voice is smooth, especially when it reads over mission reports to him in his office. your laugh is even smoother, though—it’s soft, and honeyed, it sounds like something he’s been missing his whole life.

everything about you feels like something he’s been missing his whole life, like he was born to be with you by his side, and he’s been empty without you all along.

you clear your throat, handing him papers as you pull him from his thoughts and say, “here is the report for that last investigation,” you say quietly, “i apologize for the untimeliness. it won’t happen again—”

“that’s not why i called you,” he cuts you off.

al-haitham is a straightforward man. he’s watched many confessions, and he’s read about many confessions, and he’s even thought about how his own confessions might go should he ever find someone he finds interest in.

but this isn’t interest. al-haitham is not interested in you—he needs you. to call this a confession might be incorrect, he thinks for a moment, because this almost feels like he’s about to plead for you to give him a chance.

“oh,” your voice is small.

you think you have an inkling of an idea of what he’ll bring up, and you contemplate running out of his office and begging cyno to tell you a few more of his jokes….or a few dozen….maybe a few hundred to be safe.

“we should talk about that night—”

“well, there’s not much to talk about,” you say simply, “you and i are consenting adults, and we happened to be heavily under the influence, which caused a lapse in judgement. it’s a bit unprofessional, sure, but as long as neither of us say anything, and as long as we manage to keep a professional atmosphere between the two of us, there shouldn’t be any—”

he cuts off your (rehearsed in the bathroom mirror many times) speech as he clears his throat. “i….” the words are caught in his throat.

for a lifetime of straightforward honesty and blunt words, it seems like now of all times he can’t seem to speak.

“you…?” you motion for him to continue.

“i enjoyed it.”

you sputter. his eyes widen as he stumbles over his words when he realizes what he’s really said.

“grand sage,” you gasp, “i think that’s hardly appropriate for—”

“n-no, i meant i enjoyed you,” he says quickly, making you furrow your brows.

“and what does that mean? because—”

“i enjoyed being with you,” he croaks. it’s a good thing kaveh isn’t here to witness this, because as a self proclaimed expert at love (which al-haitham would have to disagree), kaveh would have an absolute ball watching this. “i don’t….i would prefer if we didn’t pretend nothing happened,” he mumbles, “if you feel the same, that is.”

everything about al-haitham is hopeful. from the way his eyes watch your every movement as they stare at you, to the way he clutches the pen in his hand tightly in anticipation of your response, he’s hopeful. you can tell.

you can tell he’s hopeful you’ll say yes, that he’s hopeful you’ll say you feel the same way as him, that he’s hopeful he’ll see you again in a setting that’s not just for work and mission reports and investigation details.

he’s hopeful you’ll say yes to his pleading eyes and fill that empty spot beside him that’s been empty for far too long.

and it feels like swallowing lead when you sigh heavily and watch the hope crumble.

“al-haitham,” you mumble, “this wouldn’t be very wise, you know?”

“and why’s that?” the hurt in his face is almost tangible.

he’s not foreign to rejections, he’s witnessed them his whole life. he watched that haravatat scholar that declined the amurta one outside of class that one year. he read about that main character that found self respect and declined the toxic love interest in that novel he read last summer. he’s declined his own fair share of confessions by random scholars that stare a bit too long at his chest and arms for his liking.

but for some reason, he never imagined it to feel like this. like being with your for one second longer might just burn his skin, but being away from you might leave him cold and numb. al-haitham thinks that if you walked out that door, you might just take every bit of warmth he’s ever known from him—but sitting in front of you, in front of your sorrowed expression and sympathetic eyes….it might be too much heat for him to handle.

“well, you’re the grand sage, and i’m a matra—”

“acting grand sage,” he corrects, “it’s temporary. i’ll be back to being the akademiya’s scribe in a short bit.”

“but people talk,” you insist, “and i’ve worked hard to be a respectable matra, and i wouldn’t want anyone to think i’ve slept my way to the top. plus, the general mahamatra is technically my boss, and he’s very strict—”

“the general mahamatra and i drink at taverns together quite often,” he says pointedly, “he’s well aware of how i feel.”

“you told cyno?” you gasp, shooting him a sharp look, “i asked you specifically not to—”

“he’s known of my feelings before that night,” he assures, “evidently i’m not very subtle.”

“well,” you hum, biting back a smile, “no, you aren’t.”

he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “you’ve known?”

“al-haitham,” you chuckle, eyeing him fondly. something about the way your smile is so bright makes him clutch his pen tighter. “you aren’t the most social, you know. but you always have something to say to me.”

“that doesn’t always mean anything,” he mumbles, blush rising to the tips of his ears.

he’s endearing this way, you decide—when he’s flustered and almost pouting and flushed a bright shade of pink. you think for a second that maybe, if you kiss him for a bit in the comforts of his office, no one will ever have to know.

“but it does, doesn’t it?” you tease.

“and if you’ve indulged it all this time, am i safe to assume it means something to you too?” he asks, raising a brow.

you should say no. sleeping with the grand sage and kissing him in his office and maybe even going on dates and possibly holding hands is hardly a good look—but the scribe….well, maybe the scribe is a different story.

“ask me again when you’re the akademiya’s scribe,” you say, biting back a smile, “perhaps my answer will be different then.”

“i see,” he nods, biting back a smile of his own, “i suppose the grand sage isn’t everyone’s type, huh?”

“no,” you chuckle, “i suppose not. but the scribe….well, he’s rather charming.” you walk up to him, lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as you mumble, “i don’t mind waiting for the scribe.”

“well, lucky for you, you won’t have to wait too long,” he hums.

he watches you leave his office—and then he decides that when he clocks out at five pm sharp later, he’ll go straight home, tell kaveh that he is, in fact capable in the field of romance, and demand this month’s rent.

—————

“haitham, we’re out of eggs,” you pout, poking your head out of the fridge, “will you bring some on the way home today?”

“we would have eggs if kaveh didn’t use all of mine,” al-haitham grumbles, glaring at the blonde who gasps in offense.

“and you help yourself to my beer, don’t you? i deserve a few eggs,” kaveh huffs.

“well, make sure you pay this month’s rent on time. we’re going to buy some more furniture for our room.”

this time, kaveh turns to you in disbelief—you find it amusing how he seems to still find it improbable that anyone would like to spend longer than five minutes with al-haitham, let alone share a bedroom.

“are you really sure you want to do this? what could you possibly see in him? he’s the most aggravating individual i’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to,” kaveh eyes you in concern as you walk over and press a soft kiss to al-haitham’s forehead, earning himself an unimpressed glare from the scribe and making you giggle.

“he is a bit aggravating,” you agree with a teasing glint, pinching al-haitham’s cheek as he scoffs, “but i think he’s just nice to me because i sleep with him.”

“that’s gross,” kaveh wrinkles his nose, “you had better not be doing anything i can hear from my room—that would be traumatic. although, it must be more traumatic for you,” he says with sympathy.

“if you don’t like it, you can simply move out,” al-haitham, shrugs, wrapping an arm around your waist. as much as you love your boyfriend—and you love him quite a bit, you can’t help but mourn the fact that constant bickering will now become a staple in your daily routine.

“are you threatening me?” kaveh gasps before he turns to you with his finger pointing to al-haitham, “do you see? this is your future, i hope you know that. he’s much more unpleasant to live with, i’m warning you in advance—don’t say i didn’t try.”

“well, i’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior for me,” you grin, eyeing al-haitham playfully as your fingers weave into his hair, “otherwise, i’ll have to come sleep in your room when i’m mad at him.”

you think, for the first time ever, kaveh and al-haitham seem to agree on something as they both share a look of dread at your words.

pov: you write 3.8k words of build up for a plot just so you can write the last scene 😭

no bc literally i meant to write this as a drabble just so i could write that last scene bc i thought of it and giggled but then the plot just kept going and now we’re at 4.1k words like w h a t

#teepods.writings #fics.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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bbytamaki · 1 year

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more random obey me headcanons >:)

content: sfw headcanons, scars mentioned (from piercings), belphie has depression, all family love <3, not proofread >:((

note: i haven’t done any dateable hcs yet :(( might do some soon

— lucifer can’t stand bananas. it’s just a thing. even the smell will have him pressing his handkerchief over his mouth like a sick victorian man. does satan use this to his advantage? possibly.

— has very feminine hands. he covers them with gloves so he doesn’t have to hear asmo’s jealous whining. if anyone brings it up he’s not above strangling them with his dainty, girlish fingers.

— flexible. like shockingly. it doesn’t really come to light that often but every once in a while lucifer follows single mom yoga videos on the weekends.

— mammon has the prettiest facial features ever. like his eyes and lips look so good in candid photos. his magazine covers are the bane of asmo’s existence.

— bird tendencies. like i mean squawking and jumping like 3 feet in the air when startled. in his demon form he’s just a big parrot. he does the head tilt thing when he’s confused.

— if anyone stands in front of him for longer than a minute he’s picking lint out of their hair and fixing their clothes. his brothers have gotten more than used to his “preening” and either avoid standing around him for too long or just take it. lucifer does this too and sometimes they’ll just stand and fix each other’s clothes for like 5 minutes straight while everyone else is like “???”

— levi is tall. very tall. he’s just so scrawny and lanky and his posture is awful so you wouldn’t even notice until he actually straightens up to his full height. this rarely ever happens unless he’s in his demon form. when it does he is scary.

— cosplays online. his cosplay friends are some of his favorite people. he already sews his own costumes (as we’ve seen), and he’s really good at makeup. one of his future plans is to meet up in the human world to go to a con with his friends.

— screams like a little girl. one time mammon accidentally walked into the bathroom when levi was showering and he shrieked. lucifer ran to see what the commotion was because “how did a human child find their way into the devildom??” levi has never felt more embarrassed.

— satan watches trashy reality tv in his private time. bad girls club, keeping up with the kardashians, you name it.

— can sing the whole periodic table song by tom lehrer forward and backward. i think satan is actual really good at science and it would be his best and favorite subject.

— he just likes animals in general. he has a thing for bunnies after visiting a human world petting zoo.

— asmo has an abnormally long tongue, like surpassing attractive and approaching freakish. he usually keeps it in his mouth but once every so often decides to creep solomon out just for fun.

— has soooo many stripper friends. if you’re wondering how his hair and makeup stay in place the whole day, he learned from the best.

— he definitely designed an entire line of lingerie but only made one of each design. they’re ultra rare collectibles in the devildom and worth more than you could imagine.

— beel can french braid and make friendship bracelets like he’s going to a girl scout camp. nobody can tell me he didn’t hand make the necklaces he wears.

— speaking of martha stewart beel, he can crochet and makes blankets and cute plushies for belphie all the time.

— luke is actually his little brother and no one can convince him otherwise lol they go back and forth over nothing all the time and stop talking to each other until one of them says “what do you want for dinner”

— belphie is the king of doing his own piercings at home because why pay $50 for something he already knows how to do? he ends up taking some of them out before they heal because he gets tired of them and ends up with a bunch of scars on his face and body.

— you and beel are his dream journal. he texts the attic club gc after every nap to tell you guys what his latest dream was about. (you’re the two people that show up in his dreams the most.)

— goes absolutely dormant during depressive episodes. the complete opposite of his twin brother (beel has to keep busy at all times to stay distracted). asmo carries him to his private bathroom and lets belphie pick his favorite soaps and lotions (he likes the ones that smell like sandalwood, they remind him of taking naps in his brothers’ rooms).

#obey me #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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dreamescapeswriting · 9 months

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BTS Reaction || Finding A Pregnancy Test

BTS X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN: When Jin first found the pregnancy test he'd been freaking out about the whole thing and had made an excuse so that he could get out of the house and get some time to think for himself. Sure, he'd always wanted kids with you and had imagined his little family with you but wasn't it too soon? The two of you were married, sure, but it was still too soon. You had so long to go before the two of you could have kids and he had so many places he wanted to take you before it happened. But knowing that you were pregnant was also filling him with so much joy it was battling over the dread he was thinking when it came to being a father, all of the questions and worries he had were melting away the more he thought about holding his child in his hands.

"Where did you run off to?" You giggled as your husband walked through the door holding a small bag in his hands and a giant grin on his face.

"I got you a present." He held out the bag for you and you took it, pausing your laundry task and opening the bag to find a baby growth inside. You frowned at the small piece of clothing,

"I know you were holding the test because you were scared but we can do this...together." Slowly you looked up to meet your husband's gaze but you were still just as confused as before. What test was he talking about and what did it have to do with a baby-growth?

"Do what? What test?"

"The pregnancy test...in our room, you had it in your wardrobe door." The pieces finally began to click together and you whimpered a little.

"Oh baby...T-That wasn't for me. Kat came around yesterday and she did a test, it's hers." The smile that was once spread across Jin's face was wiped clean and you could have sworn he let out a breath.

"Are you upset?" You questioned as you reached out to rub his arm, it was a conflicting feeling. It must have felt the same way to him as it did to you when you'd wake from a dream of having children only to not have them in your life.

"A little...I'm also relieved, is that bad?" His eyes shifted to yours and you smiled at him.

"No. We're still young Jin, we have plenty of time to have kids in the future, it's just not our time right now." YOONGI: As soon as Yoongi found the pregnancy test worry began to wash over him but not because of the thought of you being pregnant but because you felt as though you had to hide it from him. Not that it was really that well hidden, he'd walked into the bathroom looking for some painkillers and found the test stashed behind the first aid box.

Were you scared he was going to react poorly? The two of you had been together for almost 10 years now, maybe it was time you started to talk about having kids. It wasn't something he'd never wanted but it had always been something he put on hold for his job.

"Why would you hide this?" He questioned as he walked back into the bedroom, you stopped moisturising your face and turned to look at what he was holding up for you to see.

"I wasn't. It's not mine," You laughed a little walking over to him and looking at the test. You hadn't taken one in a month or so, since you always took one once a month or so just to make sure you weren't pregnant.

"Kat must have done it when she came by this morning." You shrugged your shoulders, reaching for your phone to let her know you'd found the test and ask why she hadn't told you.

"Ew!" The stick was quickly dropped onto the floor making you laugh at your boyfriend's reaction, he was always a little more overdramatic than he needed to be.

"It has a cap on the part where she peed, relax." You giggled shaking your head at him and picking up from the floor, listening to the phone ring as you waited for Kat to answer you. HOSEOK: Once Hoseok found the test it was like nothing could shut him up about it, it didn't matter that he hadn't checked with you whether it was yours or not, none of that mattered. What mattered was telling the boys all about it with a giant grin on his face.

"Why didn't you tell us together? Surely it's something you share?" Jimin questioned, it seemed a little strange to him and the rest of the members that you weren't also there to tell them about your pregnancy.

"I mean, Yn would have told you but she doesn't know that I know." Hoseok must not have realised how weird it sounded as the boys stared at him, blinking and wondering where to unpack that.

"What?" Jin asked finally breaking the silence,

"Yeah, that sounds weird," Taehyung added, but Hoseok shook his head at them. He was sure you were just going to tell him in your own time but he wanted to be the first one to tell the boys. He was too excited about it,

"Well I found the test and I know she's pregnant," As soon as you heard the words you placed the bags of shopping down and stared at the back of your boyfriend's head as he continued to tell the boys of your pregnancy, which wasn't true.

"For the record, I'm not pregnant." You told him as you walked into the living room and giggled as Hoseok practically jumped out of his skin when he heard you.

"And the pregnancy test you're holding is Kat's. She kept it here, she's planning on surprising her boyfriend with it." Suddenly the test was dropped onto the floor and Hoseok was wiping his hands down his jumper as if he was trying to wash germs off.

"Gross. I told you, Yn would be here if she was pregnant." Jimin laughed shaking his head at Hoseok who was running to the kitchen to wash his hands. NAMJOON: Namjoon didn't waste any time when he found the test, as soon as he saw it in the bin he came out to the bedroom where you were getting ready for the day and sat on the edge of the bed. You were doing your usual routine and he swallowed the lump that was in his throat.

The two of you had spoken about starting a family together many times but you both agreed that the time wasn't right, right now and it would be something to look forward to in the future.

"Do you have something you want to tell me?" He quizzed, you glanced at him in the mirror frowning a little. He looked so serious that it worried you a little, you hadn't seen him look this serious since he asked you to marry him.

"What?" You laughed nervously,

"I found the test. I thought we were being careful, we use everything to protect this from happening." He began to mumble on about how he was doing everything he could to stop "this" from happening but you had no idea what "this" was. As he continued to ramble you got up and sat in front of him, holding his hands in yours and forcing him to stop and stare at you,

"Namjoon, what are you talking about?"

"I found the pregnancy test yn, you don't have to pretend anymore." You thought back to the night before, you'd had the girls over for some drinks and Kat had disappeared for a while. Things finally began to click into place and you bit down on your lip.

"As cliche as this is going to sound, it's not mine."

"It's not?"

"No, it's Kat's. She must have thrown it away last night and not told me." You pouted a little, sad that your friend was hiding it from you.

"Joonie, if I thought I was pregnant I would come to you first, don't worry." You promised before kissing him softly. JIMIN: "What's taking so long? It hurts you know!" You called out to your boyfriend. You'd sent him to the bathroom to grab your tweezers so that he could pull an ingrown hair out of your leg but it seemed as though he'd gone to Narnia or something. He'd been in there for five minutes now and you were starting to worry he'd slipped and hurt himself.

"Jimin, they're on the top shelf." You whined coming into the bathroom and stalling when you saw him staring down at the four positive pregnancy tests that were in his hands. When he first saw them he hadn't even realised what they were but the closer he looked the more he began to focus on what it was and what it meant.

Were the two of you even ready for a baby? You were still in the honeymoon stage of your relationship, where everything was perfect and neither of you seemed to annoy the other one too much.

"You're pregnant?" His voice was soft as he stared at you and you shook your head, it was too soon in your relationship for it. You'd only been together for a few months,

"No! They're Kat's," You let out a breath as Jimin visibly relaxed and put the tests back where he got them from.

"She's planning on surprising Jake with the pregnancy and wanted to do the tests here." You shrugged it off,

"Good...I mean, good that she's pregnant, not good that it's not yours, not that I wouldn't be happy to have a baby with you but-" He was cut short by your lips on his and you giggled at how cute he was when he rambled.

"Relax, now can you come and get this hair out of my leg?" TAEHYUNG: "Taehyung, this is a girl's brunch." Your best friend said as your husband walked into the kitchen, he looked rather pale though which worried you a little. He'd only just gotten better, there was no way he was sick again,

"Are you feeling okay baby? Do you need some water?" You got up from the table, it didn't matter how old Taehyung was he was still your baby and when he was sick you got more worried than a mother with their child.

"Are you?" His voice cracked as he stared at you, and you frowned a little at him. What was he talking about? You felt fine and you had felt fine for weeks now.

"Do I need to do anything differently? Should I be making you food? carrying bags?" The more he spoke the further he confused you and Kat who stared at him,

"What?" You couldn't quite wrap your head around what he was asking you.

"I don't know the first thing about this. Do I need to book time off work now or do I do that when the baby comes?"

"What baby?" You screeched a little, did he know something you didn't?!

"Our baby." He said as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to announce

"Our baby?" Your voice went up an octave as you stared at him with widened eyes

"Wait...guys." Kat tried to comment but Taehyung was quick to jump in,

"I found the test in the spare bathroom, I was looking for some shampoo and it was just there." You shook your head at him, it wasn't yours, you hadn't taken a test,

"Taehyung, it's mine!" Kat called out making you both stare over in her direction.

"Is that why you're having a virgin mimosa?" You stared at her and she nodded shyly at you,

"So it's not Yns?"

"No," Kat admitted,

"Thank god," Taehyung groaned sitting down and downing your drink in one go, making you laugh a little at him.

"Not for a while yet baby, I promise." You and Kat laughed as your husband laughed nervously along with you both. JUNGKOOK:

Jungkook wasn't sure what he was supposed to do after he found the test but he called Jin right away who came straight to the house.

"Is Yn in bed?" Jin asked as he looked at the very scared-looking Jungkook,

"Yeah, I didn't know what to do, Hyung." Jungkook was shaking as he sat in the living room staring down at the test that was on the coffee table. He'd found it this morning when he was rushing to get ready for work.

"You need to talk to Yn." He'd told him this already but Jungkook shook his head.

"But what if she's hiding it for a reason? what if she doesn't want me to know."

"What if who's hiding what?" You asked tiredly as you walked into the living room, pausing when you saw the test on the coffee table.

"Congratulations Jin!" You screamed, the tiredness completely wiped from your body as you threw your arms around Jin who seemed just as confused as Jungkook by this point.

"It's not mine." Jin laughed a little and you got up, staring at the test and then at your boyfriend.

"Oh, then who's the test?"

"Yours?" Jungkook frowned making you giggle and shake your head.

"Nah, I didn't take one." You hadn't needed to for a while since you were on the pill and used condoms. Sure there was a chance you could get pregnant but you hadn't taken a test recently at least.

"But, I found it in our bathroom." You stared at him and then shook your head,

"Must have been Kat's she was acting all skittish yesterday when she came round." You yawned reaching for your phone, ready to give your best friend a piece of your mind for hiding it from you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @namgiswife @delulu18 @stzatzch @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @swga-ficrecs @kpopmenace143 @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

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aperrywilliams · 3 months

Text

More Than You Expect (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

Part 1: More Than You Know

Part 2: More Than You Say

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!exBAU!Reader.

Summary: You have a new life, and Spencer isn't in it. But somehow, you both cross paths again. Will it be just like the wind passing, or will it stick?

Word Count: 7k

TW: ANGST WITH "HOPEFUL" ENDING. Strong language. Mention of sex, illicit acts, jail, typical CM things. A character gets injured (nothing life-threatening). If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: The last part of the trilogy "More Than You..." It's done, folks. What started like a one-shot a year ago is complete now. Thank you for all the comments I got about this one, your likes, and your reblogs. Tell me your thoughts about it.

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Big changes are usually something people are eager for or afraid of. You are in the second group. You don't like changes. There's no way you stayed in the BAU for more than a decade if it weren't in part for fear of making big changes in your life.

It's not that you don't like to imagine new things or dream of something different, but uncertainty is something you aim to avoid at all costs.

Although your predisposition, when you confessed your feelings to Spencer on a fateful afternoon at the BAU three years ago, you knew a big shift was coming, and there was no turning back. That same night, after he left your apartment, you knew it would be the last time you would see him.

And boy, that one was a hell of a change.

After thirteen years of spending together almost every day, he would no longer be a part of your life.

You handed your resignation letter to Emily the next morning. She tried to convince you to stay, but deep down, Prentiss knew whatever reason she could give you, it wasn't enough. You had already made up your mind.

-----------

From one big city to another. New York welcomed you with open arms. The NY FBI field office did, too.

Although you chose to stay as an FBI agent, your job would be slightly different from the one you had been doing at the BAU when you joined the Organize Crime division.

It was a little intimidating at first. There was a lot of action, certainly a lot of undercover missions, a bunch of criminals, too many drug busts and guns. In summary, a lot of everything. But with time, you learned that OC has so plenty of shit targets as the BAU had. It wasn't rare to come face to face with psychopaths sometimes. And your training as a profiler has come in handy more than once.

After you left DC, you never looked back. You asked Emily to please not tell anyone where you would go. You also write a letter to Garcia, pleading not to track you down, assuring her you would be fine, and if the future would make you cross paths again, so be it, but please do not push it. She replied with a full four-page letter, agreeing with your request but giving you her thoughts about why she felt you were doing wrong.

You appreciated her honestly, but it was done.

No listening to Prentiss's instructions, Spencer tried to reach you regardless. Your phone kept receiving daily calls and texts for months. You didn't reply to any of them.

Until someday, it stopped.

You should have felt relief, and sort of you did, but it was a bittersweet feeling knowing the last string that kept it joined to your old life was cut.

That was the change, and you took it.

Were you doing okay? Did you accept it without consequences? No.

But the new job needed to do its magic. You were so consumed by what you were committed to doing that nothing else mattered.

In the past three years, you have gone undercover so many times, some of them with direct life risk, but you were in one piece. You have been shot and stabbed, though, giving you enough scars to talk about.

Your teammates were and are still very surprised by your versatility and compromise. Your philosophy? Do the job, take another case, work your ass on it, and catch the bad guys.

They even started calling you the Lone Ranger. Why? Although your work involves a task group with more agents, most of the time, your missions are in solitary— weeks or months of not having contact with your team until there is some break in the case.

Once the job is done, you return home and just shut off from the world.

You only socialize after work a little or the bare minimum. Just a few colleagues know things about you besides your prominent former career as a profiler in DC. And certainly, nobody knows the true reason why you moved to New York in the first place.

It's better this way, and you are used to it.

And what about your current love life? While in DC, you didn't have one because you were pining for Spencer; in New York, you don't have one because nothing seems too serious to think of it.

Flings? Of course. But that's all. In some way, you became the same kind of person you criticized in Spencer.

Life works in mysterious ways.

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"The NYPD called us an hour ago asking for one of our most wanted, Vincent Clark," your boss, Agent Lindstrom, says as Monday's morning meeting starts.

It's not something uncommon. Local police have their own OC task force, and you have worked together more than once. The weird thing is that from one moment to the next, they request information from a target, of which, in theory, only your team knows.

"And they want information because-" you enunciate the obvious question.

"They're working on a case involving a string of civilian murders in Manhattan, and for some reason, his name came up," Lindstrom fills.

"Murders? It doesn't sound like Clark's MO," John Miller - a colleague - muses.

"Certainly not. NYPD has to be wrong," you back Miller's observation.

"And why NYPD-OC are investigating civilian murders? Does it have to do with some kind of operation?" Adam Taylor - another teammate - asks.

"Not quite. The local task force is helping 1PP because things have been escalating pretty quickly," Lindstrom explains. "But we here must find out why Clark is a person of interest and verify if they're indeed wrong about him. We don't want them to blow up our intel for no reason. So, Taylor and (Y/L/N), you're assigned to go with NYPD and help to clear this up."

That's how you got a new assignment. And not as undercover; that's a shift.

Taylor is driving this time, and you only look out the window, focusing on nothing in particular.

"You okay?" He asks after some time, resting a hand on your knee. You turn to see him.

"Yeah, why?"

"You are too quiet. Maybe you are mad at me?" Taylor asks tentatively. You raise an eyebrow.

"Why would I?" He clears his throat at your question.

"Well. Because, you know, we haven't talked about the other night."

The other night. Adam is referring to when you came back from your last undercover mission of four months and ended up in his bed at the end of the day.

You tensed at his response. You knew it was a bad idea to sleep with him, but you always thought about it as stress relief, and you thought he understood the same.

"There is nothing to talk about, Adam. We both know what it was." You try to sound cool but soft as well so as not to hurt feelings - if they were there.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just was making sure you were okay with it."

Why do men have the compulsion to mask a question that only cares about them, like uninterested concern about you?

"I am. Don't worry," you assure Adam with a confident smile.

To your ease, the conversation ends there.

You always have kept your distance in this job, with the prerogative of not getting involved with colleagues. What went on with Taylor is still bothering you because it was something that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

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The NYPD quarters welcome you with Captain Novak's handshake. Soon, you learn he wasn't aware the locals had called your boss for intel.

"I'm sorry you had to come here. We are already having the FBI help on this," Novak explains. It's a way to say they don't need you there.

But you have a job to do, so you can't just leave.

"Due to the information we got, I think we can be useful too, Captain," you point, as Taylor backs you up saying something similar.

Novak understands he should use all hands available, so he agrees to have you stay and join the group working on the case.

"Yeah. I think any information would be useful in this case. Come on, I'm going to introduce you to the task group working on this." You and Taylor follow him down a hall to the end, where a large meeting room is.

After opening the door, Novak is ready to make the formal introductions.

"As I told you, an FBI unit is helping us on this. Here is the BAU team. Agent Prentiss, Rossi, Alvez, Jareau, Lewis, and Reid."

Your breath suddenly hitch in your throat at the sight of your old team there. And everyone is looking back at you with a perplexed look as well.

Novak continues talking. "These are Agent (Y/L/N) and Taylor from the OC division." After a second of contemplation, Novak let out a chuckle. "Ha, it's weird. I have to introduce two FBI teams working on the same case with the NYPD."

The guy has a bizarre sense of humor, but he has a sense of humor nonetheless; you have to give him that.

Not that you keep a count, but it has been three years, two months, and twenty days since the last time you saw them. Plus seven hours if you consider the last time you saw Spencer. Since the night you kicked him out of your apartment.

You can't help but make eye contact with him. You both look shocked. And how not to be? Neither of you woke up this morning thinking about seeing each other again.

"Agent (Y/L/N), it's nice to see you again. Good thing OC wants to help here. I can tell you about what we have got so far."

Emily speaks, breaking the silence and setting the rules of the current interaction. She is as surprised as everyone, but it would be time for that later.

It's a welcomed way out of the uncomfortable moment, and you take it.

"Sure. Do you think Agent Taylor could catch up with the intel you got from the current suspect?"

Emily nods. "Of course, Lewis, Reid, can you help agent Taylor on that? Captain Novak, maybe you can give some insight from the locals, too?"

Tara and Novak agree verbally, while Spencer only gives a curt nod.

Spencer makes brief eye contact with you before leaving the room.

Hell, what were the odds of something like this happening? You chose OC in another city precisely because you would hardly end up working on the same case.

Well, fuck the improbability.

When you're left alone with the rest, you don't know whether to ignore the elephant in the room or acknowledge the three years in which none of them have heard from you.

"It's good to see you, bella," Rossi cuts your mind spiral.

"Yeah, hope New York has treated you well," Luke seconds.

"I'm sure OC is happy to have you," JJ adds.

Each one of your former teammates offers you positive words you didn't expect to hear after leaving the way you did.

"Thank you, guys," you mumble gratefully.

Prentiss speaks up before things turn too emotional.

"Okay, okay. We'll have time for that later. Now, we need to crack this case. Tell us (Y/N) what can help us catch this unsub?"

You proceed to explain your concern about whether they are focusing on the wrong suspect. Emily listens to you carefully, and the rest share their impressions. There is no clear conclusion, but you decide to proceed with caution, given Vincent Clark's importance to your team.

"Okay. This is what we are going to do. Luke, you and JJ track Clark's associates first. Discretely, of course. Dave, can you check with Garcia about what these buildings in this list have in common?"

Once they are all gone with a task in hand, you stay alone with Emily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they would call you for this case," Prentiss muses. Your mouth goes agape. Why is she apologizing to you?

"Emily, it's okay. It's me who should be sorry for disappearing like that. I - I never contacted you, and you have the right to -" You can't finish your idea because Emily cuts you off.

"I know what are you going to say, and no. We are not mad (Y/N), we understand. You didn't want to be found, and we get that."

You surely appreciate her reassurance, but it doesn't make the guilt go away.

"Spencer does, too?"

Emily furrows her eyebrows. "In a way, I think he does. But he won't tell you that," she confides.

It's better than nothing.

"Is he okay, though?" You ask, believing if his life improved after your departure, you could feel a bit less shitty.

"I can't answer that. You will have to ask him."

Emily's assertiveness strikes again, you think. She's right. It's unfair to talk about Spencer with you when you were adamant about her not speaking with him about you.

You nod. "Fair enough."

For the rest of the day, things are pretty hectic. Police officers and FBI agents are coming and going; new information comes to check, and there are more witnesses to interview. There's so much movement that you haven't been able to stop a second and think about how you feel seeing Spencer after three years.

Emily has been cautious about not assigning you tasks where you might coincide, but you still can see him in the police station, and you've even exchanged furtive glances from time to time.

Taylor catches you doing it one of those times.

"What's wrong?" At the question, you turn to see him.

"Uh? No. Nothing." You're too distracted to notice Adam doesn't believe you.

"So, they are your former team in DC," he remarks, trying to get you talking. Since you arrived at 1PP, you have barely said a word not work-related to Taylor.

"Yeah." It's the best you can give him. You know what Adam is doing, but you won't engage. You have a lot on your plate already.

Your mind starts mulling the idea of talking to Spencer. But why would you do that? You were very clear the last time you spoke about your need to step aside. You were explicit to him about not having the strength to keep supporting him in his free fall. Sure, he promised to change and all that jazz, but you knew staying would only have brought you more pain and disappointment.

Despite all the reasoning, in the back of your brain, there is still the question of whether he really did what he said he would do. It's a morbid thought you have sometimes entertained.

Taylor's hand on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. You look at him in a daze. "Novak is calling us," he announces, frowning. Adam knows there's more going on in your head than you let on, and he has a suspicion about what - or rather who - it's about.

-----------

It's late at night, and still, there are no clues solid enough to catch the unsub. You all start to feel the exhaustion but keep going. You haven't seen Spencer, Tara, or Rossi in a few hours, so you think Emily sent them to the hotel for the night.

Taylor told you he needed a break as well. So you're alone in one of the offices, going through folder after folder in case you overlooked something.

You're so focused that you jump when you notice the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway.

It's Spencer.

"Jesus! You scared me," you exclaim with a hand over your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that," Spencer apologizes, closing the door behind him. His voice is calm and collected. You inspect him with curious eyes.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, a little harsher than you have liked. Spencer contemplates his response for a couple of seconds.

"Uh, I just wanted to say hi and to know if you were doing okay?"

His voice is unsure, and you look at him in disbelief. It's your confusion that prompts him to continue. "Well, if this had happened months after you left, I would possibly have come to yell and accuse you for leaving like that. Now? Just let's say I wanted to make sure you are doing okay," he clarifies, hands in his pockets.

"Well. I'm doing okay. I hope that satisfies your curiosity." Your response is curt and snarky, and you don't know really why. He hasn't said anything out of the ordinary. Spencer doesn't seem surprised by your tone, though.

"It does. Thank you."

And maybe it's enough for Spencer to turn and leave you alone, but you have the question at the tip of your tongue.

"So you're not mad at me?"

Spencer narrows his eyes. "Uh, I didn't say I'm not mad. I said I'm not here to throw it at you," he clarifies.

For some reason, the answer to your own question ignites an old bitterness you thought was gone.

"Oh, thank you very much," you mock. "A bit bold of you, don't you think?"

Spencer scoffs. "Bold? Bold being mad after you left from one day to the next?"

And there you go. So, Spencer's main problem is that you left in a hurry rather than the reason why you did it.

"What did you expect? Did you think I was going to stay after what happened?" You ask with incredulity, standing from your spot and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Maybe not. But head-ups would have been nice," Spencer matches your sarcasm.

"Yeah, and a goodbye party, too," you deadpan, and Spencer breathes a humorless laugh. Your irony is pushing his buttons the way you know it does, even after all these years. But why are you doing it? You don't really know.

"(Y/N), you literally disappeared! I was - we all were worried. I know you didn't want to talk to me or see me, for that matter. But why leave the BAU like that?"

Spencer looks distraught just at the mention of that fact. You don't interrupt his rant.

"For months, I really thought something bad had happened to you until Emily told me you were actually okay and that I should stop bothering you."

"It took you long enough," you mutter under your breath.

For a long time, you thought your reaction and later decision to leave like that was too much. Maybe it wasn't necessary to drop everything to start over, but you knew if you wanted to leave behind thirteen years of a lot of things, thirteen years of Spencer Reid, you needed to do something big—a major change.

"Yeah. It took me long enough. But don't expect me to be cool about it. It hurt (Y/N). It hurt like hell," Spencer admits.

"Why? Weren't you living the life you wanted?" you ask sardonically, and you see how Spencer's jaw clenches.

"You know I didn't. And I told you back then I realized about that, too," Spencer says, referring to the last time you saw each other—the night you kissed, and he told you he loved you, but you didn't believe him.

"But I get it. I understood why you didn't trust I was telling the truth, and it was fair. But to disappear like that? It was a lot (Y/N)."

In some way, you truly think Spencer's feelings about what happened are reasonable, and even you can understand the grudge he holds against you. But you are not in place to admit that to him. Not when the memory of what happened starts to burn in your brain and heart again.

"Are you done?" Pettiness is the only thing at hand you can use for now.

Spencer sighs. "I don't want you to think I'm admonishing you or whatever you think I'm doing. I really get I did wrong back then, and I hurt you. I'm not dismissing that fact."

"Good! Because here I was thinking you already forgot," you state, raising your voice.

"Jesus, (Y/N). Can you stop that?" Spencer's voice raises, too, to match yours.

You are about to make another remark when the door opens.

"(Y/L/N), we are going to -," Taylor starts to say but is cut off when he sees you with Spencer arguing. You both get startled and turn to see him. "Am I interrupting?" Taylor questions with eyebrows furrow.

"No-"

"Yes-"

You and Spencer reply in unison and make Taylor hesitate. "(Y/N)?" he asks you directly this time, tentatively approaching. He looks worried, and you don't want to make a fuss right now.

"It's okay, Adam. We are discussing something about the case. I'll finish here and join you, okay?" you say, with a soothing hand on his elbow.

"Yeah, okay. Yeah. I'll be with Novak," an unconvinced Taylor says as he retracts from the office, leaving you and Spencer alone again.

When you turn to see Spencer, he has his eyes trained on you, analyzing you. It's a piercing gaze you haven't seen in him in a long time—years, to be exact.

"What?" You ask, trying to break the trance. It seems to work because Spencer clears his throat.

"Nothing. Uh. I should go. Emily must be looking for me," he mumbles before passing you. Almost leaving the office, he turns for a moment.

"I really wanted to know you were okay. I'm sorry for what I said after that."

When the door closes behind him, you are left standing, questioning whether the last ten minutes have actually happened.

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'I'm sorry for what I said after that.'

Why is he sorry? Is it because he didn't mean it? Is it because he didn't want you to know?

It's not that you feel guilty, or maybe you do to some extent. Whatever it is, the thought of Spencer in the past three years has haunted you in many ways and forms.

Yeah, you came to New York to put distance between yourself and him, but what you never saw coming is that sole fact started to weigh on you in many aspects of your life. At first, you thought that due to the bond you both had forged for years, things would not look very good. Sure, it was going to take a lot of work, but you thought time would do its magic.

You tried—you have been trying hard. And even though you still believe it was the right thing to do, why have you yet to make peace with yourself?

Why has happiness been elusive to you? You haven't been able to make real friends; you haven't been able to have a healthy relationship. You've immersed yourself in the job, hoping sooner rather than later, the moment when the pieces finally fit together will come.

Will it ever happen?

When you think about that, your mind wanders to Spencer and whether what you're feeling now is anything like how he felt at the time. Or maybe how he still feels. You don't know. The times you have thought about it always end with the conclusion it's not the same. He had you back then. You don't have anybody.

Seeing him now only has fueled your self-struggle, and although you think it's not fair to take it on him this time, your actions haven't reflected that thought.

After considering your encounter in the precinct office, you concluded the best thing to do is to keep the peace between you both. To be civil and avoid the bickering. You are an adult; you can do that.

What you didn't expect is it hasn't been necessary to put your resolution into practice since you haven't run into Spencer again. The times you've seen him, he's barely made eye contact and immediately gone in the opposite direction from you.

In the meantime, the hours have passed, and you are almost ending your second day on the case, at least with more progress than the day before.

There is a good clue about who the unsub is—Albert Thomas, who has a direct link to Vincent Clark, your target from OC. Indeed, the unsub would be part of Clark's team.

Given that, you and Taylor inform your boss, and he allows you to participate in the takedown only if you can get Clark as well. It would be the conclusion of more than a year of chasing him.

It is a complicated operation, so everyone—officers from the NYPD, the BAU, and the OC division—prepares to catch Thomas and those involved with him.

Upon arriving at the abandoned building where you expect Thomas to be, Emily sends you in pairs to different points. You go with Taylor to cover the back door. Upon entering, you realize it is suspiciously quiet. The lighting is bad, but you don't want to use your flashlight so as not to alert them about your presence. You go first, and Taylor covers you. You arrive at a room where some light sneaks in. You go a little forward and peek, realizing Clark is filling some briefcases with money. He has his back on you, so he doesn't notice your presence.

"FBI! Hands up!" you shout, approaching with your gun pointed at Clark. He turns around but doesn't seem scared. Why? He is not alone.

Unfortunately, that thought comes too late. In a matter of seconds, Thomas pounces on you, throwing you to the floor. Your weapon falls meters from you. You know Taylor is behind you, but you see Clark grab his briefcases and run towards another escape door.

“(Y/N)!” Taylor shouts, and you barely hear him in your fight with Thomas. But you know if he stops to help you, you'll lose Clark.

"Go for Clark!" You shout him back, rolling on the ground after Thomas jabs your face with his fist.

You can't see Taylor, but you know he is hesitant. "Go!" you insist until you hear him running outside. Now, you can focus on Thomas. You manage to asset a blow to his jaw and push him away from you, but as you are kneeling and about to stand, he is on the floor pointing you a gun.

Where did he get that?

He is going to shoot you. You can see it in his eyes. You know the profile, too. He hasn't nothing to lose. You need to think fast. Talking to him won't make a difference. You decide your best chance is launching at him and pray the bullet doesn't hit you badly.

But before you can do so, you hear a gunshot. You close your eyes because you think it's coming from Thomas's gun. When you notice you don't feel any impact and you hear Thomas's screams of pain, you dare to open your eyes.

Spencer is standing with his revolver pointed at him. He was the one who shot, preventing Thomas from shooting you.

You let out a sigh of relief before collapsing to the floor. Although you didn't get shot, you are very beaten up, and the adrenaline rush leaves you without the energy to keep yourself on your feet.

Spencer is fast to catch you before you hit your head. There is commotion around, but you can barely hear anything. Even Thomas's screams sound far away.

"Hey, hey. I've got you," Spencer mumbles, adjusting you in a lying position, holding the back of your head in his hands.

"Thank you," you breathe out.

You won't notice much of what happens next. Paramedics come to check you out, but you only focus on the squeeze of Spencer's hand in yours. It's the only thing that grounds you as your eyes begin to feel progressively heavy. There comes a point where everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

When you wake up, you are in a hospital bed. You see Adam with his back to you, talking on the phone, possibly to your boss. When he hangs up the call, you get his attention.

"What happened?" Your voice is raspy, so you assume it's been a couple of hours since you got there. Taylor turns and gives you a little smile.

"It's good to see you awake."

Adam tells you he caught Clark, and they can link him not only to Thomas's murders but to all the evidence against him you have been collecting over the last year. Adam also tells you what the doctor said about your condition. Despite the pretty bad blows you got, there is nothing serious, and you will be able to be discharged in a few hours.

"Where is Spencer?" you blurt out, not fully registering what you asked. A slip you quickly try to disguise. "I mean, the BAU. They have Thomas in custody?"

"Yeah. They brought Thomas to check the GWS, and after his discharge, he got into custody. And yeah, Agent Prentiss and Agent Reid came to check on you a few times," Taylor adds to his recounting with a knowing look you prefer to ignore.

Why does learning they came to check on you make your chest feel warm? You blame the medication the doctors surely gave you.

As Taylor said, a few hours later, you are discharged from the hospital with instructions to go home and not back to work in a week.

Your boss gives you the instructions on the phone. He sounds very happy to have Clark in custody and even mentions a promotion for you for such a successful operation.

You should be happy, right? But in all honesty, it doesn't feel like it.

You decide to go home to catch some needed sleep. Maybe sleeping helps to stop overthinking things. But before you can doze off, a ding from your phone grabs your attention.

Emily P: 'I hear you were discharged. We are leaving tomorrow morning. Would you like to celebrate with us and have a drink tonight? For old-time's sake?'

A nostalgic smile forms on your lips. A drink with your old team? Why not? Even if Spencer is going to be there, you already think it's time to make peace with what happened for your own good and mental health.

-----------

The sound of music and laughter makes the bar feel lively and festive. Upon entering, that's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is you haven't been to this place for a while, being one of your regulars when you just moved to New York. At the back of the bar, you can see Emily, Luke, JJ, Rossi, Tara, and Spencer talking and laughing, each with their drink of choice. It's good to see them like this, relaxed, enjoying the moment. It brings back very good memories.

"(Y/N)!" Emily calls you, and everyone turns to see you. You wave and stroll where they are.

When you sit down, the first thing they do is ask you how you feel after the beating Thomas gave you. You don't know if it's on purpose or not, but no one is referring to the fact he almost put a bullet in you.

The conversation flows animatedly. While you tell the most notable anecdotes from your missions in OC, they review some of their most important cases from the last three years of the BAU. The ones who talk the most are Emily, Luke, and Rossi. While JJ and Tara rather break jokes and are more affected by alcohol than the rest. Spencer is the quietest of all, but he also participates in the conversation and even asks you questions about the things you say.

If you thought it might be an awkward instance, your former team proves the opposite, even considering the circumstances and reasons why you left the BAU. And although no one refers to it, everyone tacitly knows that it is there.

They don't resent you. They understood you needed to leave, and although you didn't tell them the reasons, they knew. Even Spencer seems comfortable when you have thought he wouldn't.

The conversation comes to a stop when Emily raises her glass, clearing her throat.

"Well. Uh. It's a weird time for this, but I do think things happen for a reason," Emily prephase, looking at everybody. "So, okay. Here we are tonight with an old friend who left the nest a few years ago," Emily looks at you. "To say goodbye to another of our own who is also embarking on new paths," now her eyes settle on Spencer. "I wish you the best in your new life. We'll miss you a lot. To Reid and his last case at the BAU," Emily toasts.

As everyone raises their glasses and cheers, you can't help but look at Spencer with surprised eyes.

Is he really leaving the BAU? After all these years? Did his last case end with him saving you from a bullet?

He gives you a short glance before sipping his beer.

"Come on, we want a speech," Luke demands, and everyone backs him. You're still in shock to say anything.

Spencer's cheeks redden a bit as he clears his throat before speaking.

"When Gideon recruited me for this job, I never imagined all the things I would experience in 17 years working here—the good and bad. I will always fondly remember everyone I met here and had the honor of working with." Spencer's eyes now focus on you.

"On my first day, I was so nervous I thought I was going to mess it up. But in the conference room, I met someone who was also on her first day. Knowing I wasn't the only one helped me not to run away."

Everyone is listening with raptor attention, and you know they are looking at you from the corner of their eyes.

"Do you remember the times we said everyone would leave before us?" He asks you, and now it's your turn to feel your cheeks burn.

"Well, it didn't happen that way. But I guess Emily is right, and things happen for a reason," he muses. "I wish some things could have been different, but we can't change the past," he says before averting your gaze. "I only hope the bond we forged all these years remains, even if we don't see each other that much or at all. I thank you for everything you have done for me, especially at my lowest points. I apologize for the little I gave in return," his gaze returns to you. "Thank you, guys. I'll miss you all."

Everyone clinks glasses, and Spencer's eyes keep on you. Why does the air feel suffocating from one moment to the next? You don't know what to do; the intensity of his gaze is overwhelming, and you think if you don't do something, you will faint right there.

You discretely apologize and get up from your spot. You need air.

Once outside, the cold of the night hits your face, but it is welcomed.

Your heart is still beating fast. Why are you so affected? Is it because Spencer is leaving the BAU? Are the memories he brought back during the toast?

"Are you okay?" A shy voice says behind you. It's Spencer. He followed you outside. You turn to see him with pained eyes, and Spencer worries even more. "What is it? Do any of the bruises hurt?"

Spencer believes your discomfort is physical. How ironic. In the last hours, you had even forgotten the beating you got.

You shake your head. "No, I'm okay. It's not that," you admit, and Spencer doesn't say anything, waiting for you to continue. "Is it true? Are you leaving?" He nods. "Why?"

It's weird how that fact has shaken you—or maybe not that weird. You never pictured Spencer in a place other than the BAU. You even talked about it several times. Like you, Spencer has never liked to make big changes, and you understand him more than anyone because you still feel the same about that.

"It doesn't make sense for me to stay anymore. It has been like that for a while," he shrugs.

"But you love the BAU. You always told me it was your life," you remind him. Spencer lets escape a little chuckle.

"You told me the same thing years ago, and you left nonetheless."

"It wasn't the same," you dismiss, shaking your head.

"I know. But since then, I've been questioning my reasons to stay."

"Why?"

Spencer takes some seconds to contemplate his response.

"Well. Maybe because it should have happened sooner? Honestly, I think the only reason I lasted this long after I was released from prison is because you were there supporting me. And well, after that? It took me months of therapy to realize it and almost two years to make the decision," he confesses. You are quite shocked hearing him talk about prison and therapy. Those things were banned for to mention three years ago.

"Months of therapy?"

Spencer shrugs again. "What can I say? I took your advice. You were right. I needed help to know what I really wanted."

His words bring you back to that night. The last time you saw each other. You wondered for a long time if Spencer got to make sense of what you said to him. Did he understand how hard it was for you to decide to step aside?

"You know? At first, I started it because I had the secret hope you would come back. And I promised you to change. With time and the certainty I had lost you, I began to accept I had to do it for myself."

Spencer's eyes drift to the distance like he can see those moments of realization he had back then.

"Did you?" Your voice is soft, trying not to cut him off from his reminiscence. His gaze comes back to you.

"Yes. And I thank you for it. I know I said a lot of other things at the precinct, but above all, I understood. I still think it's unfair, though."

"Unfair? Why?"

"I pushed you to do something I'm sure you didn't want to. It was me who should have left, not you."

"Spencer-" you start to say, but he cuts you off.

"I know, it is done. But what I said at the toast? I really meant it. I wish some things would have been different. Jeez, there are a lot of things I should have done differently. I wish I hadn't gone to Mexico. I wish I had told you I loved you sooner. I wish I hadn't chickened out when we first kissed."

Spencer's voice trembles a little. He is pouring out a lot of emotions, and you are there trying to digest all of them.

"But you said it yourself. It's done." Your tone isn't accusatory rather than nostalgic. He nods, clearing his throat.

"I know. And I can't go back in time to change it," Spencer acknowledges.

"Why are you leaving, then?" You are not saying it as if it's the wrong thing to do this time; it's more that you need confirmation that he is not running from reality as he did back then.

"Because I need to find my fresh start, as you did it. Well, and because after 17 years, to stay catching serial killers is not healthy, according to my therapist," he pulls a face after his last statement, making you chuckle.

"Am I listening correctly? Will Spencer Reid do what a shrink recommended to him?" you quip.

"What can I say? I'm a new man," Spencer shrugs, and you smile for real.

It's clear to you that he says it jokingly, but there is some truth behind it. It is not that people can go completely against their essence, but time has proven to you that things can change, and it's not necessarily totally good or totally bad. It's just different in shades of gray. And as something different, there is nothing wrong in looking for another change from time to time, even if that throws you out of your comfort zone.

As you both stand there, you realize that things in life are not linear. They are constantly coming and going. It's laugh and cry, condemn and forgive, mess up and amend.

"It's getting cold here," you start, and Spencer nods. "But I know a coffee shop nearby that is open this hour. Would you-? I mean, so we can keep talking. You don't have to, of course. I know you guys have a flight early in the morning." It's tentative; you can't really read him. Are you overstepping? Your overthinking dissolves when you see a grin forming on Spencer's lips.

"I, uh. I'd love to. I mean, to keep talking. Sure."

"Great. Okay. This way," you point, starting to stroll down the sidewalk. You adjust your coat to shield your neck from the cold as Spencer shoves his hands in his own coat pockets, walking beside you.

In a comfortable silence, you both bask in each other company. Is it like it used to be? Not quite. But it's a familiarity you can relish—a newfound understanding of what changes mean between you both.

Enough to lead you to talk for hours, laughing at your own silliness and crying at the painful admissions, causing Spencer to lose his flight the next morning.

Enough to make you leave New York months later and start teaching at the FBI Academy while Spencer gets his tenure at Georgetown.

And who knows? Maybe it's the same understanding that, six months later, will make you pursue a new step after a kiss under the street lights on a cold night in DC.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

For those who asked for a part 2 or/and part 3: @gghostwriter @sebastiansstanswhore @evvy96 @pillsbury-doughgirl @singinghamtaro-blog @atlantica-angels @lukesmainpiece @ladyofhellhounds @gubzgirl @shqwqrma @hereforfun-31 @reader1402 @theoraekenslover @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @s1lngwns

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

Note

May I ask why you dislike Malleus so much?

[My TWST character tier list is here.]

[For context on why I dislike Malleus: here and here!]

Many of the reasons previously cited above are still applicable presently (though some points may be outdated since those posts were written before book 7). In this post, I will mostly be focusing on why my thoughts on Malleus have not changed despite the new added content of book 7.

I ramble on for a bit, so I put my thoughts below the cut! Ah—but before you read, please be aware that these are my opinions and not meant to be disparaging to any Malleus likers out there.

Me disliking him should not take away any of your joy!! Go out there and love him for me ^^

A lot of the things happening in book 7 were a long time coming, so really I felt as though Malleus finally “losing it” was affirming of all the red flags from before. Since day 1, his loneliness, aloofness, and awkwardness around his peers were key traits of his. What book 7 does is it magnifies the darkest aspects of his character.

We’ve seen several examples when Malleus has fits of rage and his power flares out of control or he at least threatens it. In Glorious Masquerade, he becomes enraged at the realization that the invitation he received was a false one. In A Firelit Sky, he insinuates that he would be upset if people questioned his presence for the trip. He crushes Lilia’s phone in his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, destroying a friend’s belonging because he was upset about not being invited to an occasion. In book 7, we see a flashback of Malleus freezing the whole castle as a child because his grandmother, overtaken by her duties, could no longer dine with him as promised. Malleus’s temper has been a persistent issue since childhood.

We’ve also seen him act callously toward his classmates and misuse magic to force his will upon them. Remember him stopping time during Endless Halloween Night? How he wanted some ghosts to enjoy themselves instead of missing out on being with everyone for the holiday? Now he’s stopping time in book 7 and keeping everyone in their happy dreams forever. Remember how (in his Dorm Uniform vignettes) Malleus thought it would be easier to make the other dorm leaders come to him instead of him coming to them for their meeting? So then he disregards their autonomy and casts magic that’s normally cast on objects on living beings (something which the other dorm leaders take offense to, as it is dehumanizing). He fails to consider their perspective when he returns to Diasomnia (he basically goes, “well, I wouldn’t have been mad if they cast that spell on me!”). Malleus learns nothing from the experience despite Lilia trying to tell him over and over to be more considerate of others and how different they are from him. Now we have Malleus relating his peers to a virtual pet that he never ever wants to leave him.

Malleus can be stubborn and arrogant. He has a very single-minded way of thinking and often does not consider others’ feelings before he makes the decision for them. Malleus can be insecure. He doesn’t even fully realize he is lonely until Yuu suggests it in book 7, but he’s capable of acting on his bouts of intense emotion. He has always had these flaws, and now they are being brought out in full; we’re being forced to confront OB Malleus and all the complicated, twisting feelings of abandonment that come with him.

Let’s make one thing very clear: I don’t take issue with the overblot boys in general; they are meant to be morally grey characters that act in dubious ways. It would be insincere for me to claim “I dislike Malleus because he did bad things!” News flash, many TWST characters have done bad things or at least questionable things that would give you pause. What separates Malleus from the others and makes him egregious enough to earn significant ire from me is the particular actions he takes (which triggers a personal disdain of mine).

Malleus consistently exerts a scary amount of control over others. This is not a new idea; Riddle and Vil are also notorious for being oppressive or controlling, and I’ll be the first to admit that. (You’ll note that those two are low on my tier list too.) The thing is, Riddle and Vil were very overt and open about their demands for obedience. Malleus can be too, but it’s so insidious how he acts within the dreams. He ignores people’s autonomy, gaslights others, and, again, acts like he knows what’s best for them 💀 Other characters have done these things too, but never to the same scale or by exerting this much power. Malleus then resorts to violence when his lies don’t work, even though he’s fully aware of the power disparity between him and his peers. It feels particularly scummy to me because of how Malleus frames his selfish actions and feelings (his wish for Lilia to not leave) as selfless (for the benefit of his peers) and something everyone else would want in order to justify it to himself 💦 I know he is in (or bordering on) overblot so he wasn’t thinking rationally at that point, plus the fact that many examples I listed come from events or vignettes which may not be canon to the main story timeline. Still, there is a concerning pattern of behavior with Malleus misusing his powers or not being considerate of others and failing to grow from those mistakes. You can only go “oopsie” so many times before you harm someone by accident. I expect people to learn their lesson by then and adopt some proper restraint. He keeps claiming his intentions are good as if that’s supposed to dismiss any harm that results from his actions??? No, his actions still harmed people and he has to deal with the consequences of them, not have them hand-waved away or excused. The behavior I’m witnessing is reminiscent of like… having a toxic friend that is constantly told “hey, what you’re doing/saying makes me feel uncomfortable; do you think you could dial it back?” and the friend tells you they’ll try but then never actually changes their behavior or defends their behavior with “I didn’t mean to, so therefore I did not actually harm anyone”.

You can give me a backstory, but a backstory only goes so far as explaining why he is the way he is; it does not excuse him at all. You can say “He’s a fairy! He’s actually a child mentally! He's sheltered!” until the cows come home, but when he relies on magic to quickly fix the problems he caused instead of stopping to genuinely reflect on why people are mad at him, it’s hard for me to sympathize. Because of his immense power and status, the only person that can reasonably hold Malleus accountable is himself, and he has not demonstrated to me that he can do that.

Book 7 is essentially the payoff for allllll the tropes and traits I never liked to begin with coming into fruition. That’s why Malleus has stayed where he is in my TWST character ranking. I did not expect the writing, no matter how good or tear-jerking, to change that. Until Malleus shows that he’s fully apologetic, recognizes the error of his ways, and consciously tries to connect with others and understand their perspectives, he’s staying squarely where he is.

Am I saying a character with flaws is a bad thing? No, absolutely not! Flaws are what make a character interesting, I’m not faulting Malleus or any other characters for having them. Am I saying that he is poorly written? No, I think Malleus is actually quite a complex character and he’s been really fascinating to follow. I love the emotional complexity of book 7–and it was so clever how the devs related his virtual pet to wishing for happily ever afters for people in his real life. This magnitude of danger is also just about what I expect of book 7 and the themes of togetherness that TWST was angling for from the start. But the fact remains unchanged that I perceive his attitude as irritating at best and reprehensible at worst.

My distaste for Malleus is based entirely on my own views and life experiences. The specific flaws Malleus has and how he acts because of them don’t sit well with me and the kinds of things I enjoy in fiction. It’s not anything deeper than that!

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 7 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #Riddle Rosehearts #Vil Schoenheit #Lilia Vanrouge #a firelit sky spoilers #glorious masquerade spoilers #malleus dorm uniform vignette spoilers #endless halloween night spoilers #Yuu

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alittlebitofloveliness · 5 months

Text

In defence of Steve Randle

Listen guys, Steve Randle gets a lot of hate in this fandom and as much as it pains me, it's valid. Everyone has their own interpretation of the source material, and fandom is supposed to be fun, so it is absolutely valid and ok to hate or love any character you want. You can hate Steve for many reasons or for no reason at all! This is fandom! That's ok! The story is for you interpret and love and play with and hate on to your hearts content. HOWEVER, to say that Steve Randle isn't an important character to the novel is simply not true, and to say that he hates Ponyboy requires ignoring or downplaying some pretty key moments of the book. This is especially true for those of you who love Dally but hate Steve, because Steve gets a lot of hate for being kind of a dickhead (which lbr, a lot of seventeen years old are, especially to their friend's little siblings) while Dally gets less for doing a lot worse (harassing Cherry, jumping kids, etc). This isn't to say that either character is better- they're both great, nuanced characters who have done bad things, but the fandoms attitudes towards them when they share a lot of characteristics is really telling. Even Ponyboy's narration about them is pretty similar- Pony doesn't particularly like Steve, and he was canonically scared of Dally, but they're both members of his gang and he doesn't hate either of them. You don't have to like Steve as a character, just like you don't have to like Dally or Darry or Tim Shepard or even Ponyboy, but he is important- and he doesn't hate Ponyboy, nor does Ponyboy hate him.

A really important moment in the book is when Ponyboy and Johnny defend Dally after he harasses Cherry and Marcia.

"Dally's okay," Johnny said defensively, and I nodded. You take up for your buddies, no matter what they do. When you're a gang, you stick up for the members. If you don't stickup for them, stick together, make like brothers, it isn't a gang any more. It's a pack. A snarling, distrustful, bickering pack like the Socs in their social clubs or the street gangs in New York or the wolves in the timber."

This line here is super important. Pony and Johnny were willing to defend Dally after he sexually harrassed Cherry and Marcia- soc girls who they clearly liked and were intimidated by- in the name of being a good friend, because that is what's important to them and their gang. If they're willing to do it in this context for Dally, you'd best believe they'd do the same for Steve, and him for them. Steve can and will rag on Ponyboy within the gang, but he'd never dream of bad mouthing him to anyone else. Dependability is important to the gang, and Steve would never publicly shit talk Pony, and vice verca. Regardless of their squabbles within the gang, at the end of the day they've got each others backs. They're buddies. We see evidence of this at the end of the book, when Pony grabs the bottle and threatens the socs with it.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" Two-Bit had been watching from the storedoorway. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

The important thing here is that along with Two-bit, Steve was backing Ponyboy, no questions asked. Sure most of it boils down to Pony being a member of the gang and that deep rooted loyalty to one another, but the context for this scene is that Ponyboy was sitting on Steve's car waiting for Steve and Two to stop flirting with some girls. The three of them were hanging out- without Darry, without Sodapop. It's their school lunch break. We know Ponyboy has middle class friend's at school, or that he could've spent time in the school library. It was a deliberate choice to hang out with Two and Steve. He wasn't forced into it. Canonically, Steve and Ponyboy hang out. Never alone, but they're decent enough friends to hang out together in a group. Doesn't everyone have friends like that? I do. This isn't the only textual instance either where they hang out without the entire gang being present. Early on, Pony offhandedly mentions that sometimes Steve and Soda will buy him pop and teach him about cars if he hangs around the DX.

"I had walked down to the DX station to get a bottle of pop and to see Steve and Soda, because they'll always buy me a couple of bottles and let me help work on the cars."

He could've just said Soda's name here but he didn't. Steve buys Pony pepsi and teaches him about cars, even though he gets annoyed with him when Soda invites him to hang around with them too often. And honestly, who wouldn't? I'd be annoyed if my best friend always invited her little brother along with us, even if I liked the kid. Wouldn't you?

Now, we do need to address the elephant in the room. I'm talking of course, about this quote;

"I'd never tell Soda, because he really likes Steve a lot, but sometimes I can't stand Steve Randle. I mean it. Sometimes I hate him."

I feel like very often people forget the context this quote comes from, and so it's magnitude is blown way out of proportion. Ponyboy has just been jumped and then immediately scolded by his brother who constantly makes him feel foolish and unwanted. He's already scared, embarassed, and defensive and then Steve goes and makes him feel even more unwanted. Of course he wants to lash out. Of COURSE he feels like he hates Steve in that moment. I did even reading it. But Ponyboy doesn't truly hate Steve. This moment is PEAK fourteen year old having a rough night energy, it's not truly representative of Steve as a character or of Ponyboy's feelings towards him. In truth, Steve actually kind of likes Ponyboy and is at very least protective over him. This is evidence by the previous quotes, but also when Ponyboy comes back from Windrixville, and is worried about the state placing him in foster care;

"'No, [Ponyboy said] 'they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home.' 'Don't worry about it,' Steve said, cocksure that he and Sodapop could handle anything that came up. 'They don't do things like that to heroes.'"

It's subtle, and not immediately obvious to the traumatized fourteen year old who is used to Steve's cocky nature, but this is both a reassurance and a very bold claim. Not only is Steve trying to look out for Ponyboy the way the rest of the gang models- by treating him like a kid, letting the 'adults' worry about grown up issues in a misguided attempt to protect Pony- he is also throwing in his lot to make sure nothing does happen. Based on this quote and the rest of Steve's characterization throughout the book its not hard to infer that Steve would fight tooth and nail to make sure Ponyboy stays safe with his family. Sure, part of it is gang loyalty, part of it is his devotion to soda, but part of it is because he and Ponyboy are buddies in their own right, no matter how much they fight. They are friends- and Steve is an incredibly important character for many reasons, but particularly to add depth to Pony's character, to the bond between the Curtis gang, and to highlight how the Curtis gang differs from the other gangs in Tulsa. Steve is just as much an outsider as the rest of the gang, and it's disingenuous to say otherwise no matter how much you may hate him as a character.

#the outsiders #steve randle #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #two bit mathews #sodapop curtis #lovelythoughts

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kkongdakz · 6 months

Text

“ LOVE OR DIE. ” ft. kim gyuvin

summary : even if the world currently looks like your worst nightmare, you can still touch the sweet dream that gyuvin brings you.

gyuvin x gn!reader, genre : friends to lovers, students au, mafia game in real life, the night has come inspired, angst, fluff, warning : blood, wounds, panic attacks, minor characters deaths, crying, wc : 2,149

you felt so bad, awful, your heart constantly squeezed in your chest, as if an invisible force were pressing hard against your ribcage. your breathing must have been far too irregular to be normal, but you didn't care. sitting on the edge of a desk, staring into space, tears threatening to roll down your cheeks : it was traumatic, having your friends' blood on your hands, droplets on your clothes, and the bitter taste of iron on your tongue. you were still wondering why you, of all people on earth, had to find yourselves in this appalling situation. what had you done wrong to have to kill each other, with no chance of staying alive in the end? the whole thing felt like a sci-fi movie in which you were trapped, the only difference is that blood is real, and hearts stop beating.

swallowing back a sob as you heard the office door open, you quickly glanced around before lowering your head, hiding your tear-streaked face. « so you were there all along.. » gyuvin's voice was soft, comforting, probably the only reason your heart remained so warm despite all the pain you'd accumulated. pursing your lips together, you nodded positively, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve before turning your gaze back to him. he smiled tenderly, hands tucked into his trouser pockets as he approached you. « mh, i needed to be alone for a while. » you say in a small voice, which stops gyuvin in his tracks, his finger suddenly pointing to the door he had previously passed through, « do you.. do you want me to go back? »

shaking your head negatively, you offered him a slight smile in return, you turned your gaze to an invisible point in front of you, « no. it's also nice to be alone with you. » — you didn't get a chance to see the shy but satisfied smile that gyuvin gave you after your answer, the boy coming to sit beside you the next second. under the outside light of the frozen world in which you were trapped, his fingers brushed yours in a cottony caress. you can't explain why gyuvin has always had a comforting aura : he's the kind of person who can instantly put you at ease, the kind of person you can cry in front of and who'll do anything to dry your tears, the kind of person who makes you feel like summer sunshine in the middle of winter. since you've met him, you've always tended to rely on him, but now that your lives are in constant danger, the fear of waking up one morning to find him dead eats away at your stomach. you don't want to lose him. you don't want to lose him like you lost hao, hanbin, yeojin, haseul, and so many others of your schoolmates. you still don't understand how, or why, your classmates, considered to be the mafia of this game, could have attacked them. killed them. do they feel remorse? did they hesitate before doing so? you can't tell. and not knowing, but imagining the constant fear that everyone must feel, kills you from the inside.

a long sigh left your lips, and the next second, gyuvin's warm voice rose in the silence. « what's on your mind? » he asked, his gaze fixed in front of him in the same way that your empty eyes stare at the grayish-blue computer screen. « i can’t do this anymore, » you began to say, your voice muffled by a sob rising in the back of your throat, « i can't stand seeing them die one after the other. » — gyuvin, who usually knew what to say to comfort you, found himself trapped by his words. how could he soften your pain, when his heart was bleeding the same way as yours? obviously, he was trying his best to put on a brave face in front of you and the others, but the truth is, he was scared to death inside that he couldn't save you. what was happening seemed far too unreal for any rational reasoning, he felt powerless, he didn't understand, and that only tormented him more.

but he had to reassure you, he had to find the right words to warm your heart chilled by fear and grief. without looking away from the invisible point in front of him, gyuvin's warm hand moved slightly closer to yours, his long fingers overhanging yours against the cold surface of the desk. « i will die beside you. i won't ever leave you. » he declared, in the most nonchalant but sincere manner possible, swiveling you around so that your tear-streaked gaze falls on the undeniable beauty of his face. the cut on his cheek still looked fresh, blood threatening to spill at any moment, but you put that aside for the moment, far too disturbed by the words he had just uttered. « i won't let any danger even touch us, » he continued, this time turning his gaze from the wall to yours, his black irises piercing your soul, « touch you. »

why couldn't your heart stop beating so quickly? why did you feel your stomach churn at such a dramatic moment? why did the desire to kiss him come to titillate your mind? people are dying around you, and all you can think about it's your feelings for gyuvin, that keep growing despite the circumstances. and you hated yourself for that. « yah, kim gyuvin, » you say suddenly, the crack in your voice making the boy in front of you raise an eyebrow, « you must save yourself before thinking of me. »

a soft chuckle left his mouth, his gaze turning away from yours for a moment. although you were watching him carefully, you didn't see it coming when he suddenly found himself standing in front of you, your knees pressed against his thighs, and his hands clasped to the desk on either side of you. your eyes locked on his, lost in the beauty and sincerity of his gaze, and gyuvin took the opportunity to speak again. « this is probably not the time or the place, but i have to tell you something, » he almost whispered, as if the walls had ears, and he wanted to confide in you the most intimate of secrets, « y/n, if i die i want you to know that i love you, i really do. »

the world seemed to crumble around you, your trembling hands tightening on the desk beneath your fingers. your breathing suddenly becomes jerky, your gaze juggling from one eye to the other in panic, as the words remain stuck in the back of your throat. you wanted to cry, to burst into tears, to shake him in all directions for daring to tell you this kind of thing, but you remained frozen in place, your body no longer responding to your instructions. and despite the fact that you wanted to yell at him, you couldn't help but want to hold him against you, feel his warmth beneath your fingers, feel his heart beating against your chest.

« i wouldn't get over it if anything happened to you, » he confided, his blood-spattered hand coming to caress your cheek, brushing your skin in the most tender way, chasing away the tears that had just escaped from your eyes, « i'm afraid i'll lose my mind if i even lose you. » — gyuvin tried not to show you that he was scared to death, and that the mere idea of losing you was driving him crazy. he had to keep his cool, he had to keep doing everything he could to unmask the killers and save as many of his classmates as possible. but knowing that, at any moment, he could face your lifeless body, made the task so much more complicated. deep in thought, his eyes filling with tears without his realizing it, surprise overcame him when he felt your cold fingers on his cheeks, electrifying his entire body. his glassy gaze locked with yours, and pink flushed his cheeks at your next words, « i love you, » you say softly, your voice a little breathy, « i love you too, gyuvin. please don't you dare imagine another scenario in which you're not alive, » and at that moment, the pressure of your hands enveloping his face became firmer, albeit delicate, « please don’t leave me alone. »

gyuvin watched you for a long time, lost in the beauty of your eyes, love fluttering in his stomach after your confession. he didn't know whether to feel happy or scared — he was happy to know that his feelings were shared, but even more afraid of losing you. he would do anything to keep you close to him, do anything to save you and make sure nothing happened to you. and if he has to sacrifice himself to keep you alive, gyuvin will do it without hesitation. your frightened eyes seemed so sparkling, perhaps because of the tears that kept running down your cheeks, but gyuvin found himself transported to a world where death was not around every corner, where you can feel secure and live your student life with peace of mind.

gyuvin wanted to believe that a happy ending awaited you at the end of this nightmare, even if it seemed impossible. he wanted to be able to take you out on a date, officially ask you out, kiss you under the blossoming trees — he wanted to get out of this horrible game and bring everyone back to life, he didn't want to lose another single friend. he didn't know how to save everyone, but he was determined to do it.

as he seemed far too silent, your eyes searching for his to bring him back to you, the course of time took a completely different turn : in a fit of sadness, fear, joy, and euphoria, the boy completely closed the distance between you both, suddenly pressing his lips to yours. gyuvin was kissing you, and that was real. the exchange was desperate, slightly hurried, a slight taste of blood on your tongue, messy, clumsy, a little hesitant at first. but when you closed your eyes for good, gently tilting your head to one side, you felt one of his big hands clasp your waist, the kiss intensifying under the simple sound of your breaths echoing in the room. it was now warm, passionate, much more controlled than before, but above all, it was comforting, as if it were something you'd desperately needed for a long time.

suddenly out of breath, gyuvin left your lips, his jerky breathing crashing into your face. the poor boy didn't dare open his eyes again, for fear that it was just another of the many dreams that haunted his nights — but when he felt your thumb caress his lower lip, gyuvin knew it was all real, he had just exchanged a kiss with the person who had made the last few days a little less nightmarish. opening his pupils slowly, he instantly planted his gaze in yours, flickering his eyes to get used again to the light around him. out of the corner of his eye, the smile on your lips created a gentle warmth in the hollow of his heart. it was just what he needed : the warmth you brought him, that devastating smile that made him melt with love. he never wanted to see another tear roll down your face, another drop of blood leave your veins, another trace of fear in your eyes. he was going to save you, no matter what.

« gyuvin, » your voice drew his attention back to you, and his previously unfocused gaze, lost in thought, was once again focus in yours, concentrating on your next words. « promise me not to do anything stupid. »

he wanted to promise you sincerely, he really did. but it was inconceivable for him not to do something to protect you, to save you, if the opportunity arose. and if by something stupid you mean not putting his life in danger for you, then he was bound to break that promise. so, in order not to have to answer you, and not to disappoint you too much, gyuvin ignored your insistent gaze, encircling your waist with his arms and capturing your lips once more, more deftly. by diverting your attention to something else, gyuvin gave himself the opportunity to get around this promise, which he will never have made, because he knew very well that he could die to save you. you were his priority, and right now, all he wanted to do was help you forget, just for a moment, all the atrocities you'd been through recently.

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threepandas · 2 months

Text

Bad End: Out In The Cold

"What's this? A cold little mouse in my castle?"

Thick hair that wasn't mine spilled over my shoulder. As a familiar hand, warm and calloused, wrapped itself around my throat. I hadn't realized how cold the room had gotten, until her hand was there, skin warm against my skin. It had taken a while to get used to this.

I was grateful, in a way. For the the day she had done more then just scoff at my scarf. Telling me I would freeze. The way she had gotten worried. Pulled off her gloves, grumbling all the while, too fuss over me like some great mother bear. Hands warm but gentle, as the tucked themselves around my throat. Too better warm my blood, she had said.

It had been like a dam breaking.

And honestly? She WAS right. It was warm.

Now, whenever she so much as SUSPECTED I was cold? Her hand would sneak out to press against my pulse. Though, half the time, I suspected it was an excuse. She'd not had many chances for closeness in her life, I suspect. Calysta was the... ah, it was hard to translate, but... the CLOSEST translation? Was something like "Child of The Mountain Gods".

Or was it "Child of the Mountains AND the Gods"?

I was supposed to be writing a treatise on the subject. Gods knows no one ELSE would. Cowards. Bigots too. "Nothing but savages" my silk clad ASS. And they dare call themselves academics!? Ha! HA, I say! Both my professors and I would SPIT! (If it weren't WILDLY rude. I never COULD master that skill. I did try.)

Unfortunately, my professors, were too old to make the journey this far North. It hadn't stopped them from TRYING, when we had finally gotten permission. But... well. They barely made it too Wuntersgreen before the strain and cold became too much. They cried.

As the youngest? I was loaded down with their notes, questions, hopes and dreams, and sent on ahead. No one was impressed by me. The scrawny academic with her soft, soft hands. Never a day's fight in her. Didn't know how to do "anything". But? That had given their word to host me. So they did.

It's been AMAZING.

And I like to think I'm getting better!

Adapting. Learning how to do things and help around the castle. I even helped start a fire for the fireplace the other day! Before THAT? I learned how to set hunting traps... rather badly. I have yet to catch anything. But still! Progress, is it not?

Where was I? Ah, yes.

Calysta. Her rank is something between a Warlord and a King, as far as I can tell? It holds the respected sovereignty of a ruling monarch yet? Can be seized. Should she grow "weak". Is not NECESSARILY passed too one's children. They, presumably, have an ADVANTAGE... but? It goes too "the Chosen child of..." that word I'm still having some difficulty getting a good translation off.

And if I remember correctly, Calysta's brother's did NOT appreciate that. As they had been favored by her father. Showered with praise most of their lives. One of them ASSUMED to be the next leader.

They challenged her.

Did not back down.

Now? Now she has neither Father nor brothers. Not that it seems she had much of either to begin with. Frankly? I am GLAD she won. She is good for the North. Strong, steady, highly tactical. A wry wit. And a FEIRCE love for her people and culture. NO ONE will take it from her. Destroy these beautiful peoples.

I'm tugged back lightly, away from my desk to sit up properly against the back of my chair. The hand on my neck shifting softly, ever so slightly up, to cup the underside of my jaw. Tilting my head up so I can not see my work but must instead meet the eyes of my dear friend.

"Enough, little mouse." There is a fondness to the edge of her mouth, she is not one for great grins and wild expressions. It has taken me months to learn how to read her so well. "Your papers will still be there AFTER you warm up. Should be easier to right, don't you think, when you can actually feel your fingers again?"

I huff a laugh.

Honestly... where would I be with out her? Frozen to death, probably. I get entirely to fixated on my work. Food, drink, keeping the fire running. I notice none of it. Probably shrivel up and die. The fact she even takes the time to check on me? Dispite being as important as she is? Let NO ONE say Calysta does not CARE. She is a good person.

My legs feel numb and prickly, stiff, in that distinctly asleep and too cold sort of way, as I try to stand. Calysta has to wrap her arm around my waste and let me lean against her. She feels almost too hot against me. Another sure sign I have, indeed, allowed myself to get too cold. Oh dear.

With an exasperated snort, once it becomes clear my legs will probably not be recovering fast enough for her liking, Calysta decides she will speed things along. My legs are swept out from under me effortlessly. I don't even squeek anymore, this has happened so often. But I USED too.

It is how I became "mouse".

Now I just allow Calysta her way. She'll put me down when she wants to put me down. And honestly? It's kinda fun to be carried like a child. I feel tall. Weightless and somewhat decadent, it makes my heart beat a faster. And on somedays? All I want to do is go boneless. Allow myself to be HELD. Not that I'll ever tell. So Shhhhh, a secret to our graves, okay? It would make things awkward for her.

She strolls down the hall with me, too her office. No one so much as blinking an eye. We've become so common in our shenanigans, I imagine, it's become mundane. And... ah~ Calysta was RIGHT. I WAS cold. The fireplace in her office is full with logs burning away merrily. The windows we passed in the hall showed snow. It seems the storm's finally hit..

Instead of putting me down, Calysta heads for the couch. Turning and with a huff, flopping down, making both of us bounce a bit. Leaning back with me less in her arms now, so much as in her lap. The room is quiet. Hushed almost. The crackle of fire, the distant howl of wind, far away chatter of life, elsewhere in the castle.

Calysta has leaned back against the back of her office's couch. Head rested against the fur blanket draped against the back of it. The fur mixes with her riotous man of hair to create almost a halo, lit in golds by the fire's light. Her eyes are closed as she takes her moment. The fire light makes her face softer.

But never soft.

No force in all the world could make Calysta anything but the Queen she is. Dangerous and powerful. First into battle and last to leave. She is breath taking in the way all deadly things are, I think. Like blades and poison held up to the light. Predators and fires that burn.

"You're staring, little mouse." She says, voice nearly a whisper in the softness of the room. It is a rumble like mountains and the sweet call of dangerous things. She's always had such a commanding voice. I envy it. "Is my face so entrancing?"

She's smirking. Teasing me. I laugh and rest my head against her shoulder. Let myself drift as the chill in my bones fades away. The arm loosely around my waist to keep me from falling off, has taken to lightly stroking my back. Almost absent-mindedly. Occasionally, fingers playing with the ends of my hair.

A servant has come-by. Removed our shoes for us. Brought Calysta missives and responses. General updates. She shifts us. Tucking me against her as she lays down, tucking me between her body and the couch. Fuzzy blanket over me, arm wrapped around me. I... I feel boneless.

Safe.

Everything warm and quiet and far away.

Trusting, I doze off. Cuddling close and utterly content.

Calysta presses a kiss to the crown of my sleeping head. Let's her hand roam, just a bit, simply to feel the perfect way her little mouse fits right up against her. She was MADE for her. Born to be here. Still... she has to be... be GENTLE. Soft.

It's hard. She hasn't had much practice in that.

But good things are worth the struggle for them. True love is WORTH the time, the effort, to learn how the South romance. Figuring out how to woo her lil mouse as she deserves. Making sure she never leaves.

Speaking off...

She diges out the ridiculous fancy paper envelope at the bottom of the stack. Hidden, as per her instructions, so her little Mouse wouldn't see it. Another one, it seems, from that damn "House" of hers. Southern Clans were pretty damn presumptuous, weren't they? Had some fucking gall.

What did THIS one say?

Let's she... "come back at once" blah blah blah "how dare you ignore all our letters" blah blah "you WILL honor the engagement we've found for you, or ELSE" oh? Threats now, huh? Ah~? "Keep ignoring our letters and you'll be cast from House-" well, well~!

That's convenient.

One flick of the wrist, and the letter is in the fireplace. Burning away. Just like all before it. Oops. How difficult it is, to get news from the South. Her little mouse really SHOULD just forget about them. THIS is her home now. THEY are her people.

Her girl doesn't need anyone else.

"Don't worry, little love. I won't leave you out in the cold. You're gonna stay with me. Forever. I Promise."

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mechaknight-98 · 7 months

Text

Edge of Tomorrow (NSFW) FT Dami of Dream catcher

Authors note: A little piece for the birthday girl.

You sat in your cubicle numb to the work that needed to be done around you. You had finished your daily tasks and the office server was down so now all you could do was wait. It was mind-numbing but at least it paid the bills. You yearned for your bed and to be cuddling with your stellar girlfriend Dami, but the time would not move faster so you continued to wait. About 35 minutes into your 8-hour shift you get a text. You see it’s from Dami. You wonder if you left anything at home so you do a quick spin of your cubicle and nope everything is there. Where it needs to be. This drives your curiosity about what the text could be about so you unlock your phone and are met with a harmless message

My pretty panda: Babe I miss you. :(

You smile and begin to type back

You: I’ll be back before you know it

You are surprised when you get a text back almost immediately. It’s a message with a selfie of Dami pouting. You save the image (because you treasure every picture she sends you) and read the attached message.

My pretty panda: but I do know it and I want you back now.

You chuckle and begin typing but you get a message

My pretty panda: let's play a game babe.

You delete your previous response and with trepidation, you begin typing a new one

You: what kind of game dear?

My pretty panda: a fun one, but I won't tell you till you agree.

You squint you love Dami but this could easily be a mistake, but your curiosity beats your boredom.

You: okay I'm down what's the game

My pretty panda: the game is simple you may touch yourself but don't cum.

Your eyes widened at her message and you scrambled in your response

You: Dear I'm at work

My pretty panda: it's too late now you already agreed now put your hand on your cock and send me the picture.

You groan but comply nonetheless. Your anxiety spikes as you send it. It lessens when you see those three grey dots but it gets worse. She sends a pic of her sensually cupping her abundant chest attached is the message is

My pretty panda: stroke your cock slowly. Send me the video

You take out your aching cock and begin to stroke slowly while gazing at the picture she sent. Your pace is tortuously glacial and mirrors many times where Dami would edge you all day to turn you into a “volcano of cum”.

You sneak to the bathroom and send her the video. Your girlfriend is quick to respond

My pretty panda: you have the stroke timing just the way I like it. Now babe go a little faster.

After that is a video of her massaging her perky tits

“I can't wait for my favorite little slut to get back home. I'm gonna fuck all of those little and big thoughts out of you. You'll be my cute little toy.” Dami cooed.“When I'm done with you tonight. You'll be m mindless fucktoy begging for me, now stroke faster and faster until you are about to cum then stop. Don't even think about cumming because I'll know. Wait forty minutes then start again, but slowly.” she added. You do as she says and get back to work. You reply to a few more emails answer a few more messages and talk to your boss before you are back in your cubicle. You get another three texts and videos from Dami.

My pretty panda: you've been a bad boy.

To emphasize her point she sends you an extremely lurid video. She's in your bed touching herself tortuously slowly. You watch as she indulgently has her fingers slosh and squelch in and out of her sopping pussy causing your already-hardened cock to drive you further into lusted madness. “Mistress isn't pleased by missing her updates,” she said with an authoritative lilt in her voice. Oh dear things have escalated and you were in for it now, but you knew if you sent Dami an update about work getting busy she would calm down and go back to loving girlfriend, but part of you liked Mistress Dami. Responsible you won out though.

You: I'm sorry mistress work picked up a bit for your toy and I needed to talk with my boss.

My pretty panda: thank you for the update. Your punishment has been averted.

You: thanks mistress, but can you please fuck me up tonight I actually will need it after today.

You knew the text was risky but you had so much on your plate that her earlier promise seemed so appealing. When you got the text back you were happy and worried

My pretty panda: oh so you want my attention? Well, you've been good and hard at work so that can be arranged. What does my good little toy want his mistress to do to him?

You ponder her question but know in your heart there's only one thing you truly desire tonight

You: turn my brain to mush from pleasure. Fuck me so hard that I forget my name. Empty my balls and my brain.

You finish typing and are surprised by the speed at which Dami replies

My pretty panda: :) that can be arranged.

You go back to work until your lunch break. Dami keeps you in relative silence. During your lunch break things take a radical shift. Dami video calls you in your car.

“Hi toy,” she says with a malicious grin.

“Hi mistress,” you say

“Take your cock out,” Dami demands you comply. “Now stroke slowly,” she adds. As you stroke yourself your mind begins to blank. “Good toy. Get lost in the pleasure.” you begin to moan as your mistress encourages you to continue. “That's it's good plaything keep stroking.” you continue to and when you get right to the edge your mistress demands you stop. You hate it because now you are desperate to cum but you know Dami is going to take exceptional care of you when you get home. After your lunch break the rest of the day moves even slower as you fight to stay awake.

When the clock finally says it's time to go you race to your car and flee from the office with the speed of the wind. You get home and see Dami smiling at you. She goes to hug and she lightly nibbles your ear before saying “You'll have to wait a little bit longer, before you get your relief but trust me I will take care of you.” you nod as you shiver.

“So how was your week babe?”

“Long, but I got my first script sold. 6 more and I can finally quit my office job,” you answer

Dami smiled, “You know you could quit now and I'll take care of you.”

You chuckle, “As much as I would love to be your stay-at-home sugar baby/trophy boyfriend. I want to stay grounded as to why I'm working so hard.” Dami’s eyes widened with pleasure and adoration. “I love that fire you have,” Dami said with appreciation.

“Thanks, babe. Im excited. How about you?” you ask “I'm sorry I missed your birthday.”

“Oh don't worry our schedules didn't line up so it's fine. I do have a call with Siyeon to discuss our next comeback.”

“Oh nice,” you say with a smile. The two of you share a chaste kiss or so you thought as you broke the kiss you felt a hand on your cock stroking slowly. Dami your girlfriend is gone and Mistress is back as she breaks the kiss. She stops stroking you and cups your balls. You gasp.

“Oh they're so full.” your mistress says. Maybe I can get a little taste. She takes off her sweats and mounts you. You moan

“Ah fuck, mistress. You're so tight.”

Dami throws her head back as she grinds on you, “You're filling me up so well.” she grinds for a few seconds before hopping off your rod. You groan and almost force her back down, but you know better mistress rewards patience and obedience and punishes insubordination harshly. So you comply. You get up shortly after and kiss her cheek. Dami smiled “Good plaything.” she said, and she went to her call. While you wait you make two sandwiches and eat them. As you finish the first and consider going for the second Dami springs back and steals it from you.

“Hey I was gonna eat that.” you cry out. Dami gives you a smug grin as she takes a bite.

“Mmm, why aren't you a professional chef? Your food is always so good” Dami compliments. Sitting down next to you. She leans on your shoulder and eats in silence afterward.

After she finishes you give her a tight hug and say “Happy birthday pretty panda.” Dami gives you a bright smile that morphs into something else. She turns your stool and takes her sweatpants off. She leans in front of the hard rod. She blows on it causing you to begin leaking.

“You wanna cum? Then beg for it.”

“Oh god please Mistress let me cum.”

“You can do better than that.” she chides.

Your brain is fried and you fully submit to her, “Oh please mistress relieve my aching balls. I need you to fuck me.” your mistress smiles before mounting you once again. Her tight pussy digs into your cock as she lowers herself into you. She bounces exactly three times before you erupt into her wet hole. She smiled as she continued to ride you. Your body begins to act on its matching thrusts in perfect synch. The last thing you remember before blacking out is hearing “good plaything.”

#kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfic #dreamcatcher fanfic #dreamcatcher smut #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher dami #dami smut

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