#he's...an enigma alright

[relaxxattack]

i love reading the homestuck update and just genuinely having no fucking clue whats going on. thats so classic homestuck

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you please do some headcanons of a reader who was dating Ford before he went into the portal and after stayed at gravity falls to help Stanley with the portal. Mabel calls reader their great aunt/uncle. Basically how they would interact with the twins and Stan! (And a little reunion with Ford if you feel up to it 🤭)

Watching helplessly as Ford got sucked into the portal hurt but what hurt more was thinking that you’ll never see the man you first met way back in college again, that he was lost to wherever that portal lead towards. That and the utter desperation on Stan’s face as he tried to pulling and pushing the heavy lever, looking back at the portal in hopes that it did something; it didn’t the portal remained dead.

You felt as though the wind was knocked out of you when you saw him vanish before your eyes, unable to do anything to stop it due to the distance between the two of you. You thought you had heard your heart break that day also when you felt the first string of tears fall from your eyes as you collapsed on the floor of the disheveled lab, only to be pulled into Stan’s arms as he too cried for the loss of his brother.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, we’ll get him back I promise you.’ He said again your shoulder as you both wept in the other’s arms. All you could think about was Ford and your memories with him.

Ford was gone and both you and Stan were left wishing this was all a bad dream before banding together in order to bring Ford back, the pain of loosing him was enough to give you and Stan a reason to stay in Gravity Falls, even when everything reminded you of Ford’s hard work and exploration into the unknown.

Even when you held his journals against your chest tight while looking for a place to hide them forever as per Ford’s instruction, only to settle to hide one in a secret compartment on Ford’s workbench. Going so far as to scattering the third one deep in the woods and the second journal god knows where in the hope that no one, not a single soul ever comes across them, all the while you and Stan spent a large chunk of your lives trying to withhold the biggest secret in known history.

Your relationship with Stan was not the greatest to begin with but after a brief moment on the rooftop of the shack, where he’d ask you what his brother was like, seeing as how at this point you knew his brother on a more intimate level then he did after so long with no contact with one another.

‘He’s like an enigma, a complex equation that couldn’t be easily solved, so complex yet simple that it made figuring him out all the more harder but it was made worth it in the end.’ You tell him with a smile on your face.

‘Sounds like Stanford alright.’ Stan muses as memories of his childhood with Ford flooded his mind. You hummed in agreement before looking up at the stars before noticing a familiar constellation. ‘Orion.’ You then said out of the blue.

‘What?’ Stan replied, confused as he searched the sky for the constellation you were on about.

‘One of Ford’s favourite constellations is Orion alongside the Ursa Major constellation.’ You explained to him before feeling a sense of melancholy filled your chest upon realising that Ford wasn’t here to gush over the multiple fact he knew about the infamous constellation.

‘Oh.’ Was all Stan said as he finally managed to spot the constellation you were talking about with fondness. You looked over to him and gave him a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry you lost your brother again.’ You say softly as Stan tries to hide his emotions by waving you off.

‘I’m sorry you lost your boyfriend.’ He echoed the sentiment as you both went back to watching the Orion constellation in comfortable peace, both hoping that wherever Ford was he was seeing his favourite constellation too in a desperate attempt to feel some connection to him again. From then on you and Stanley became somewhat friends that acted like siblings more often then not with the rough housing, the pranks and the occasional want to punch a shitty little teenager, he would often times call you his in-law on some occasions when it was just you and him in the shack.

‘I wish Ford would’ve married you.’ Stan tells you on the anniversary of the day Ford went through the portal. ‘Then you could’ve been my in law for real but I guess that doesn’t matter because I already see you as my annoying in law already, my family.’ He admits and you playfully punch his shoulder while feeling sentimental over his causal declaration.

‘Shut up you big goof ball.’ You said with a chuckle as you wiped away your tears. ‘You’re my family too and have been for a long while.’ You added.

You were there with Stan when Mason (Dipper) and Mable were born, you both loved the kids so much that you tried to leg it with them once because neither of you wanted to put them down for a single second. This had soon became a story you loved to retell the twins when they came to stay with you and Stan in Gravity Falls.

‘Grunkle/ great aunt y/n!’ Mabel cried as she dropped her bags before quickly running to you as you bend down to hold her close.

‘My little shooting star!’ You greeted her with equal excitement, pressing kisses to her forehead as she chuckled. ‘How have you been? Done anything fun and fabulous recently?’

‘Only bedazzle dippers face when he was sleeping once.’ Mabel stared proudly as you saw Dipper pout and his cheeks grow red from embarrassment. ‘Don’t tell grunkle/ great aunt y/n that! I spent a week trying to get those plastic rhinestones off of my face.’ He grumbled as he rubbed his cheek as though he was still trying to get the fake Rhinestones off of his face.

You chuckled at them and can’t help but be reminded of the stories Stan told you of him and Ford when they were younger, dipper and Mabel were more alike to their grunkles then they’ll ever know but you’d like to say you even saw bits of yourself in them also.

‘Well I’m sure we’re going to do a whole lot more bedazzling but just not on people’s faces.’ You said while pinching Mabel’s cheeks, causing her to laugh and swat her hands at you. ‘That tickles.’ She cries as you stop pinching and poking her cheeks to hold her hand as you both walk over to Dipper, just to lift his hat and ruffle his hair playfully. ‘And how’s my Little smart Dipper doing.’ You greeted as Dipper’s eyes light up as he told you about how he had beaten Mabel at chess, showed you his most recent doodles he had hastily shoved into his backpack.

One of his drawings was of the Orion constellation and the Ursa Major constellation respectively. ‘I know how much you liked these constellations from the last time we came to visit.’ He said as he handed you the drawing, a little embarrassed but you couldn’t help but feel a smile grow across your face as you held the drawing close to your chest. ‘Thank you dip and dots.’ You said softly as you pressed a kiss to the top of his hat. ‘I love it very, very much I shall treasure it forever my little genius.’

You loved Dipper and Mabel as though they were your own and you often spoilt the pair however you could by doing arts and crafts with Mabel one day while playing paranormal detective with Dipper as you kept him safe from harming himself the next. You encouraged them to be themselves no matter how many people might ridicule them for going outside of the norm, you wanted them to be happy as they are and feel not a single need to change for others.

You’d happily wear the sweaters and jewellery Mabel made with pride as your jumper said in loud and colourful colours; ‘proud Grunkle/Great aunt of a shooting star and a Dipper’ it made no sense to people outside of your family but it just felt right to you to wear regardless. That and it was your favourite thing to wear other than Stanford’s turtlenecks.

‘You’d love them Stanford, you’d love them as much as me and Stanley do.’ You said to no one in particular as you fell asleep on Ford’s bed that night, cuddling his pillow with an aching heart. ‘Please come back home in one piece…haven’t I suffered enough with your long absence from my life?’

They helped you enjoy life but that happiness and peace was then disturbed when the portal reopened and Stanford came out looking a lot hardened and rugged. it felt as though a being of a higher power had answered your prayer for your beloveds safe return home.

‘Stanford?’ You said in disbelief from beside Stan who looked equally in disbelief.

‘Stanford?’ Dipper asked as he looked between you and this mystery figure who picked up the first journal and pocketed it in his trench coat.

Stanford looked up at the sound of your voice and he felt like he was that giddy college student again seeing the most perfect person in his life. It had been far too long for Stanford’s liking as he noticed how you’ve aged beautifully since the last time he saw you in this very room it gave him a sense of Deja vu.

‘Y/n?’ He calls as you could only start to cry while smiling.

‘Yeah it’s me. I look a little grey here and there but-‘ you attempted to joke about your old age but Stanford had quickened his pace towards you before enveloping you in his arms, holding you close and you clung onto him just as tightly. ‘You came home.’ You whispered into his shoulder, burying yourself further into his chest in hopes of telling yourself that he was in front of you, and how this wasn’t a dream. Ford had come home.

‘Yes I’m home now my dear, I’m right here there’s no need to doubt that.’ Ford said as he rubbed up and down your back, resting his head against yours as he familiarised himself with you and your warmth and your scent once again after having been devoid of it during his time in the multiverse. ‘I’m right here.’ He repeats as he felt you grip onto him tighter while you wept into his turtleneck. He has so much to tell you about but decided to keep you in his arms instead.

You both needed this as he too had been looking at the Orion constellation, wishing that you were looking at it too with a smile on your face, after all it was your favourite constellation as a couple.

[aligned-starz]

Crying in the Courtyard - Theodore Nott

⋆｡°✩Pairing : theodore nott x fem!reader

Warnings : fluff/light angst, happy ending, use of y/n

Summary : reader finds something out about her crush.

Song : Crying In the Chapel - Elvis Presley⋆｡°✩

"So, did you find out? Is he seeing someone?" You gushed in a hushed tone, fisting your Slytherin friend's robes in your hand as you pulled her in, anxious to hear what she has to say.

"Y/n! Calm down, you're going to rip off my bloody buttons. But yes, I did hear something from Blaise." Pansy Parkinson, a friend you hadn't expected to make, replied with a sigh, her expression mirroring your own anxiety. You held your breath, waiting for her next words, knowing deep down that your suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"Y/n..." She trails off, looking for words to explain the news. You met her eyes, a small realization dawning that your suspicions had been correct. 

"I'm sorry. There was talk in the air that Theodore had been seeing someone, and Blaise confirmed it for me," Pansy started, her voice tinged with sympathy as she glanced away, almost as if she was shielding her eyes from your reaction. "Says that he's crushing on a girl, and we believe it to be Daphne."

Your heart sank as her words registered, but another thought flashed in your mind. Blaise, with his charming smile and smooth demeanor, had always seemed to have an affinity for Daphne. You couldn't help but wonder if his confirmation of Theodore's crush was influenced by his own feelings for her.

"Greengrass? Doesn't Blaise like Daphne Greengrass?" 

Your curiosity sparked, and a deep longing for an answer, an answer that may prove that there's still a chance that Nott could be yours. 

"Yes, he does. And Daphne likes another Slytherin boy, like Theo. The two have been teased before, but they had previously mentioned that they're just friends. Maybe something had developed? Theodore also mentioned that the girl he liked may have liked him as well, and Blaise saw them laughing together after class. So, if we connect the information together.." 

Your heart felt as though as it had been hollowed out as Pansy dropped the bombshell. Theodore Nott, the enigma that had captured your thoughts and dreams, was supposedly entangled in a relationship. You leaned against the hall wall, the cold stone offering little solace as you tried to process the news, mind full with a whirlwind of confusion and hurt.

"I'm truly sorry, Y/n," Pansy's voice softened, her usually sharp features softening with genuine sympathy. "I was really rooting for the two of you to become a thing."

Her eyes, normally filled with a mischievous glint, now held a hint of sadness as she spoke, as if she shared in your disappointment. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from Pansy, one that made you realize just how much she valued your friendship.

As Pansy's voice faded into the background, you found yourself lost in a sea of memories, each one a painful reminder of what could have been. You remembered the stolen glances and whispered conversations, the moments shared between the two of you that had ignited a spark of something more, moments where you couldn't take your eyes off one another.

Maybe it was all in your head? It was only you who felt that way. No, he had felt that way for a different girl, not just any girl, Daphne Greengrass. You could never compare, oh how foolish you felt.

"Y/n, are you alright?" She placed a hand on your shoulder, bringing you back from your thoughts. You looked up at her, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"Yes, I'm ok. I expected this, so.." Your eyebrows furrowed in anger, anger at yourself for falling so stupidly.

Before Pansy could see you break down, you decided to leave. You feel so stupid for feeling like this, and you couldn't have someone else see you like this.

"I've got class so um, thank you Pansy." You stammered and started to walk away from the girl, leaving her confused and concerned. 

As the day wore on, Y/n found herself struggling to maintain her composure. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the most inconvenient moments, like droplets of rain in a storm. In Potions class, she buried her face in her textbook, pretending to study as she blinked back the tears that blurred her vision. Tears all caused by the boy who sat at the back of the class, who she refused to even spare a glance at now. But the ache in her chest only intensified with each passing moment, a relentless reminder of the pain she could not escape.

So she stood up abruptly in class, her sudden movement capturing Snape's attention like a disturbance in the otherwise calm atmosphere.

"Do you need a moment, Ms. L/n?" his voice was cold and clipped, his gaze piercing as he scrutinized her.

Y/n met his gaze, her eyes watery but determined. She nodded silently, not daring to speak as she fought to control the storm of emotions raging within her. Snape's expression remained impassive, a faint hint of impatience flickering in his eyes as he waited for her response.

"Take all the time you need," he said curtly, his tone dismissive as he turned his attention back to his lesson.

"Thank you, professor." With a heavy heart, Y/n nodded once more, her resolve hardening in the face of his indifference. With one last glance at her teacher, she turned on her heel and strode out of the classroom, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease in her wake.

Theodore Nott, who had been witnessing the whole situation, was confused beyond belief. She was alright this breakfast, she had been chattering and smiling beautifully as usual with her friends. What made her so distressed? So distressed to the point she wouldn't even spare a glance in his way?

The boy raised his hand, ignoring the looks from his friends, and excused himself from class. Though Snape's questioning gaze unsettled him, he was free to go. And the moment that Snape had nodded, the boy was off running after the girl of his dreams.

Finally, she reached the courtyard, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of her emotions. Leaning against the cold stone wall, she allowed herself to surrender to her grief. Each soft sob echoed off the walls, a symphony of heartache that seemed to consume her entirely.

Lost in her misery, she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late. She hastily wiped away her tears, trying to compose herself as she heard someone round the corner.

"Y/n?"

She froze, all the blood draining from her face at the recognition of his voice.

From all the people that could have seen her at a state like this, why did it have to be him? She felt a weight of dread as his presence lingered from behind her.

She slowly turned around, looking at Theo through her red puffed-up eyes. His eyes softened and he kneeled down to sit beside her, his expression filled with concern and something else, something she couldn't quite decipher.

"Tesoro? Are you alright?" His voice was gentle, a soothing melody amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

Forcing a smile, she nodded weakly, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm fine, Theodore. Just... just a bit tired. It's been a bad day."

But he wasn't fooled by her facade. Stepping closer, he tilted his head at the sight of how broken-hearted you looked, and in his own chest, he felt a pang of pain. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/n. I can see that something's wrong."

The vulnerability in his eyes shattered the last of her resolve, and she broke down before him, the truth tumbling from her lips in a rush of emotion. "The boy I like... he doesn't like me back," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared down at her hands, unable to meet Theodore's gaze.

The pang in Theodore's heart deepened, now with a mix of jealousy and seething anger. Who would make such a warm and bella ragazza, cry like this?

"Well, that's his loss," Theodore said, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of something deeper. "Because if it were up to me, I'd never let someone as incredible as you slip through my fingers."

Y/n's eyes widened in astonishment, her heart skipping a beat at his words. "Theodore..." she began, her voice barely a whisper.

Y/n couldn't help but glance at him, a mixture of confusion and curiosity in her eyes. "You think so?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Nott leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over her ear as he whispered, "Of course. Anyone who can't see how incredible you are doesn't deserve you."

He pulled away to look into her eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe away the stubborn tear that fell from her eye.

"Do you remember that time when I was feeling so lost and alone?" he began, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on her cheek. "I tried to push you away, but you refused to leave my side. You stayed with me, even when I didn't deserve it. You're such a kind and loving soul, your soul made mine feel love again like it had never felt before."

Before she could dwell on the thought, He continued as he cupped her face with his hand, his tone growing more teasing with each word. "And besides, if this boy doesn't appreciate you, then he's clearly not worth your time," he declared, a mischievous glint dancing in his stormy eyes. "I mean, he must be pretty stupid to let someone like you cry tears of heartbreak. Che idiota è quel ragazzo."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at his playful jab, the tension between them easing as she felt the weight of Theodore's words lift from her shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by his warmth and the teasing sparkle in his eyes, she dared to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, he had loved her back.

"There it is, that beautiful smile," Theo remarked, his heart swelling at the sight of her radiant expression. He couldn't help but feel a surge of affection as he watched the way her cheeks popped out when she laughed, prompting him to playfully pinch one with his hand as he joined in her laughter.

But as the symphony of their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Theodore found himself unable to tear his gaze away from hers. His eyes wandered down to her lips, drawn like a magnet to their soft curve, and he felt a familiar warmth spreading through him, igniting a longing he couldn't ignore.

In that lingering moment of silent connection, Theodore's heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching as he felt an irresistible pull towards her. Without a second thought, he leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against hers in a tender, hesitant kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the world fell away around them, leaving only the sensation of her lips against his, sending sparks of electricity coursing through his veins. In that stolen moment, all doubts and fears melted away, replaced by an overwhelming rush of emotion as Theodore finally dared to seize the opportunity he had longed for.

And as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, Theodore knew with absolute certainty that he had found where he belonged – in the embrace of the one who had captured his heart from the very beginning.

"Wait wait!" Y/n mumbled against his lips, pulling away with a concerned look upon her face. He looked up at her in regret, a fear that the kiss didn't feel the same for her made him gulp.

"What about Daphne?"

The regret on his face morphed into confusion.

"What about.. Daphne?" He repeated.

"Yeah, aren't you guys like a thing?" She hesitated, searching for answers in his eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows and wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably.

"What? Daphne likes Blaise."

"Daphne likes Blaise." She repeated, a small smile forming upon her face at the realization.

"Wait, how about you? Who's the boy you said that didn't like you back?"

Y/n laughed out at the realization, ignoring Theo's confused face which made her laugh even more. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the feeling of relief, the joy she felt making her heart beat quickly.

"You! Nott, you were the boy who didn't like me back! Blaise told Pansy that you and Daphne were a thing!" She watched his face for a reaction, and at first he was still confused, but as he realized, his mouth was agape as he said "Ah."

The two soon shared their laughter again, Theo apologizing for the tears he had accidentally made her cry, "All along I was the fool who made you cry," he admitted, his tone soft yet tinged with regret. "I'm sorry, il mio tesoro, if only I had known. How can I make it up to you?"

A playful smirk danced on his lips as he pulled her in closer, his gaze drifting down to her grinning lips.

"I don't know if you can ever make it up to me, Nott. You hurt me pretty bad." She playfully said, wiping away her already dried tears. "Well actually maybe, you can start by kissing me again, you fool."

With a chuckle, Theodore leaned in, capturing her lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, knowing in that moment that he had finally found where he belonged – in the arms of the one who had stood by him through tears and laughter, through every trial and triumph.

⋆｡°✩

Hi! This is my first ever upload on tumblr, so it may not be perfect but hey who cares I got inspired by a personal experience! If you notice any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! xx

[my masterlist⋆｡°✩]

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Can you please write about the Task Force 141 boys (and Konig too if it's ok) just casually shopping when a young woman comes to them out of the blue, gently grabbing their arm. She looks absolutely terryfied, whispering a shaky "Act like you know me. Please!" It's clear someone has been following her for a whlie and she's desperate for help. Thank you.

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓

Task Force 141 (+König) x Reader

I‘m so happy I get to write this since I had this in mind for such a long time 😭 so Thank you for suggesting this and I hope you like it xoxo 😚

KÖNIG

As König strolled through the bustling marketplace, his keen eyes scanned the various stalls, his mind focused on the mundane task of running errands. Dressed inconspicuously in civilian clothes, he blended seamlessly into the crowd, his stoic demeanor giving no hint of the dangerous missions he undertook as an elite soldier.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on his arm startled him. He turned to face you with fear written deeply into your eyes. "Please act like you know me!" you pleaded, your voice trembling. König instantly recognized the distress in your voice and the urgency in your gaze. Without hesitation, he nodded, his stoicism giving way to concern.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice laced with a comforting tone. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. You leaned into his chest, seeking solace in his strength.

König's social anxiety has always been a problem for him and it’s hitting hard surfaced in this unexpected encounter. He was a man of few words but possessed an unwavering sense of loyalty and courage. He was calm under pressure, his sharp instincts guiding him through the chaos of battle. Now, faced with a terrified stranger seeking his help, those traits kicked into action.

As König held you, he discreetly surveyed his surroundings. His eyes landed on a man lurking nearby, watching you guys intently. The man's presence and the way he leered at you which made it clear he had been following you. König's protective instincts flared, and he knew he needed to act swiftly.

With a calm yet firm voice, König spoke to the man, his words laden with an underlying warning. "Do you have a problem, sir?" he asked, his tone carrying an unmistakable air of authority.

The man's face paled as he realized he had been caught. He stammered a weak denial, his eyes darting nervously from König to you. Sensing the growing unease in the man, König maintained his grip on the you, ensuring your safety. Without another word, the man hastily retreated, disappearing into the crowd as if he were never there. König watched him go, his steely gaze never faltering. Once the immediate danger had passed, he turned his attention back to you gently releasing you from his protective embrace.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. You nodded, gratitude shining in your eyes. You thanked him for his help but your voice still laced with residual fear. König, ever the enigma, simply nodded in response, his focus returning to the world around him.

SIMON RILEY

Simon strolled through the bustling marketplace, enjoying a rare moment of solitude away from his covert missions and high-stakes operations. As he perused the various stalls, his attention was suddenly drawn to a figure emerging from the throng, walking towards him with a sense of urgency. It was you and you had fear written across your face, approaching Simon with trepidation. Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Act like you know me. Please!" He looked down at you and he wonders why him because you can’t see his face due to the mask covering his whole face but his eyes.

But still, Simon's instincts kicked in, his years of training guiding his response. He swiftly assessed the situation, noting the unease in your eyes and the subtle glances cast over your shoulder. Without a word, he nodded, recognizing the urgency of the matter. With a sense of familiarity, he slipped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer, creating a facade of friendship and protection. “There you are. I thought you got lost in the mall” he replied a bit loudly so the man behind you could hear it.

The man, dressed in a nondescript manner, had been trailing you for some time. His presence was unsettling, and his intentions were definitely clear. Sensing the danger, Simon decided to confront the man head-on. With a calm yet authoritative voice, he greeted the stranger, "Hey, is there a problem?"

The man's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by Simon's intervention. He stammered, unable to meet Simon's piercing gaze. "N-No, there's no problem. Sorry for the misunderstanding," he mumbled before quickly retreating into the crowd, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.

You let out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly releasing from your body. Simon's protective embrace remained, offering you a sense of security amidst the chaotic surroundings. He looked down at you, concern etched upon his face. "Are you alright? Do you know that man?"

You shook your head, grateful for Simon's intervention. "No, I've never seen him before. But he's been following me for a few days and he’s always lurking in the shadows. I didn't know what to do, and then I saw you. I just...I needed help. Because this time I had the feeling something is gonna happen"

Simon's expression softened, his voice filled with reassurance. "You did the right thing, coming to me. We'll figure this out together. You're safe now."

With that, Simon gently led you away from the marketplace, finding a quieter corner where the noise of the crowd was replaced by a sense of serenity. His arm remained around you, providing both a shield and a comfort. The world seemed to fade away as the two of you focused on each other.

He stayed with you for an hour until you were calm and offered to guide you home. You guys started talking and he was pretty good at keeping your mind busy and forgetting about what happened earlier.

Before you leave, you give him your phone number and thank him again. He first didn’t accept it but you wanted to go out and have a drink as a thank you. After a few arguments he agreed and accepted it.

JOHN MACTAVISH

John strolled through the busy shopping center, blending in with the bustling crowd. As an experienced soldier, he had become accustomed to the chaos of war, but today he sought solace in the mundane world of civilian life. It was an ordinary day, or so he thought.

Suddenly, a hand gently grasped his arm, and he turned to face an unfamiliar yet terrified face. It was you, eyes wide with fear and voice trembling as you spoke. "You, please. Act like you know me. Please!" you whispered urgently.

John was taken aback by the intensity of your plea, but his instincts kicked in immediately. With a nod, he masked his surprise and responded, "Hey, how have you been?" He wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, hoping to offer you some reassurance.

Feeling the strength and warmth in his embrace, you relaxed. You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper, "There's a man following me. He's been tracking me for a while, and I'm terrified. I don't know what to do."

John's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings, searching for any signs of the mysterious man. “Don't worry," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I'll handle it."

Just as John finished speaking, a figure emerged from the crowd, his gaze fixed on you. Sensing the tension, the stalker approached, a malicious glint in his eyes. However, his confidence wavered when he saw John's protective stance and you nestled against him.

John's steely gaze met the stalker's, and he spoke with an edge of warning in his voice, "Is there a problem?" His voice, calm and controlled, sent a shiver down the stalker's spine. The stalker faltered, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammered, "N-no, no problem at all." Fear danced in his eyes, realizing that he had underestimated the situation. Without another word, the stalker swiftly turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd, leaving John and you in a newfound sense of safety. John's grip on you tightened slightly, a silent promise that he would continue to protect you.

As the adrenaline subsided, you looked up at John, gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine relief. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

John offered a reassuring smile, his rugged features softened by a genuine kindness. "You're welcome. Just glad I could help. Are you okay?"

A small smile graced your lips, finally feeling a sense of security. "I am now. Thanks to you, …"

“John. My Name is John” he replied with a smile. “Thanks to you John“

You guys stood there for a moment longer until you were calm and talked for a bit before your ways parted again.

JOHN PRICE

John walked through the bustling aisles of a local supermarket, his mind preoccupied with mundane thoughts about groceries and errands. He is relaxed, but his years of combat experience had honed his senses, always keeping his mind busy.

As he reached for a can of soup on the shelf, a gentle yet desperate touch on his arm caught his attention. He turned his head and his eyes met with yours. In that moment, he sensed your fear and urgency. There was no need for words; your trembling form and wide eyes spoke more than words.

"Help me. Please act like you know me" you whispered shakily, your voice laced with terror. You were being pursued, and you needed his help. Without hesitation, Price nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. His personality trait of being fiercely protective kicked into high gear.

His grip tightened around you, offering both support and a sense of safety. "Hey," he greeted, his voice low and comforting. "What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you clung to him. "There's this guy... he's been following me for days," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what he wants, but I can't shake him off."

Price's jaw tensed, his expression growing more determined. "Stay close," he said, his voice holding a steely edge. "Let's confront him."

With your heart pounding, you followed Price as he led you through the supermarket, his imposing figure serving as a shield against any potential threat. As you weaved through the aisles, you caught sight of the man who had been stalking you. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed Price's presence at your side.

John’s voice held a commanding tone as he approached the man. "You got a problem?"

Startled, the man stammered, his face turning pale. "W-What? No no no, no problem at all," he stuttered, his voice trembling. He hastily made his way toward the exit, clearly intimidated by the legendary figure of John.

With the threat seemingly neutralized, John turned his attention back to you. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, his strong arms offering solace amidst the chaos of the situation. "You're safe now," he reassured, his voice carrying a sense of genuine care.

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the weight of the tension slowly dissipating. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

KYLE GARRICK

Kyle was walking through his local yet favorite grocery store. He couldn’t find his favorite candy which was making him a bit mad. Little did he know that his peaceful shopping excursion was about to take a dramatic turn.

Suddenly, a hand gently clasped around Kyle's arm. He turned, his eyes locking with yours. You, with your disheveled hair and wide eyes, looked absolutely terrified. The fear in your gaze pierced through him, leaving no room for doubt. Without a word, you pleaded for his assistance.

"Act like you know me. Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Kyle's training kicked in, his instincts telling him to trust you. He masked his surprise and concern, his face transforming into a warm smile. "Hey," he greeted you, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. The embrace offered you a sense of safety.

His voice, a soothing baritone, held a touch of authority. "Is that guy bothering you? Does he have a problem?" Kyle glanced over your shoulder, his gaze fixed on a man lurking in the distance, his eyes locked onto you with a sinister intensity.

Fear flashed across the stalker's face as he realized he had been caught. His eyes darted from Kyle to you and back again. In that moment, the tables turned, and he suddenly felt the weight of his actions. The man quickly averted his gaze, his footsteps retreating hastily. He was too scared to stay for a minute longer.

With the threat vanquished, you let out a shaky breath, the tension leaving your body. "Thank you," you whispered, gratitude lacing every word. "I don't know what I would have done without you." He released you from his protective embrace, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're safe now," he assured you, his voice filled with genuine concern.

For the rest of your shopping trip, Kyle remained by your side, his presence offering you an unspoken reassurance. Together, you navigated the aisles, filling the cart with groceries while engaging in lighthearted banter and getting to know each other.

After Paying for the groceries your ways split and you were thankful that he helped you out of the situation. He was glad he could save yet another life.

[cntloup]

Medieval AU reader is homeless and a prostitute, mention of beating up and stoning

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

As days go by, the grogginess and the fog in your brain gradually lift off and you remember everything more clearly. What happened on that day and what led you to be in that awful situation. 

A priest caught you talking to a nobleman’s son and accused you of seducing him, tainting his pure soul, tempting him to leave the path of God and tread the way of the devil. 

He screamed in your face, making heads turn in your direction. And in no time, everyone present at the square gathered around you and started shouting and beating you up and if he hadn’t saved you, you’d most probably be stoned to death. 

You remain in bed all day, your heart plenished with gloom and sorrow, silent tears flowing down your eyes. 

But you start to feel a lightness in your heart as you begin to think about him. 'Simon' he has mentioned his name is. Your mind is filled with questions about him.

Until he returns from work and finds you still in bed and the food untouched. 

“Are you alright?” he asks as he enters the room and approaches the bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

You quickly wipe your tears with your hands, “Y-yeah. I'm fine. Sorry for the long stay. I'll be leaving today.” you respond, almost ashamed to be caught in such a state. 

You start to slowly get up, “No, no! You still need to rest.” he prevents you from leaving the bed, gently pushing your shoulders to lay you back down. 

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” he asks, having a slight hunch what the answer is. 

“Not really.” you reply, shameful to admit such a thing, but deciding that honesty is best in this situation. He's been nothing but kind to you. Hopefully he can help you, “In fact, no. I have no home... And no one.” you finally admit, voice slightly shaking with the lump in your throat. 

He nods, “You can stay as long as you want. I'm not home most of the time so you can have the place to yourself for now.” he says so nonchalantly as if it’s nothing to offer your place to a stranger you just met two days ago. 

“Aren’t you worried?” you ask in shock, “Of what?” he questions, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. 

“You don’t know me! I could be a thief! Also aren’t you worried that I would sully your reputation by staying here in your home?” you ask, surprised expression written on your face. 

“I know you’re not a thief. If you were, you would not do what you do. And I couldn’t care less about my ‘reputation’ and what all these pricks think.” he replies earnestly, almost mocking the word ‘reputation’, surprising you even further with his answer. 

You start to find this man more and more interesting by the second. He's like no other man you’ve ever met. He's an enigma for sure, and intriguing to figure out. 

[hyperfixatinator]

Where is the line?

In the comics, Tim Drake's moral code is an enigma to me, particularly his stance on the Batclan's no-kill rule. For all the fans who say he's always one step away from full blown villainy, there are even more saying he's a strict goody two-shoes who could never stoop that low.

Then there's the different takes on where Tim draws the line between these two extremes. Personally, I find that line hard to pinpoint. Digging for canon demonstrations of his morals has lead me to more questions than answers. My biggest question right now is:

What counts as breaking the no-kill rule in Tim's eyes?

Luckily, the Robins 2021 comics shed some light on this. In issue #3, "Tim", or rather an imposter of him, said that choosing not to save someone isn't the same as killing them, and that letting a villain die can be a way to get justice. Normally, this point would be moot since it's not Tim himself who said it. However, at the end of issue #6, the real Tim clarified that what the imposter said WAS his real opinion on the matter.

Not only that, but Tim has shown this belief through his thoughts and actions before. Twice.

The first time goes all the way back to Robin 1991 #5. During the fight against King Snake, Tim kicked him through a nearby window, fifty stories above the ground. As King Snake's life hung in the balance, Shiva appeared and commanded Tim to kill him.

Tim refused. He walked away, leaving King Snake entirely at Shiva's mercy.

What gets me is that Tim made no move to save King Snake from falling. And he made no effort to stop Shiva from committing the murder, either. His only thought as he heard the man's scream was "Fifty stories is a long way to fall."

The second time was in Red Robin 2009 #26. Tim orchestrated a whole plan to manipulate Captain Boomerang into getting killed by Mr. Freeze. The whole time, Tim blamed Captain Boomerang for making all those bad choices, despite Tim being the one raising the chances of them being made. Tim believed he was innocent because he wasn't directly participating.

Tim then stopped that plan, but not for any noble reason. He decided that he couldn't let anyone else kill Captain Boomerang but himself.

Tim couldn't bring himself to do that, either. So he had to spare his father's killer in the end.

This seems pretty cut and dry so far, right? Tim believing that letting villains die is alright as long he doesn't do the deed himself? I'd think so too, if there weren't other moments contradicting this.

In Robin #35, Steph insisted on leaving an enemy who got buried under the snow to die. Tim chastised her for it.

Neither of them were responsible for the snow, or for the enemy getting trapped in it. Plus, that guy tried to kill them with a chainsaw moments prior, so he's not exactly an innocent damsel in distress.

Maybe it was because this enemy wasn't a big enough fish to fry. We didn't really get confirmation that this guy has actually killed before, and he's around goon status at best.

But then in Robin #46, Tim chose to save another enemy who got himself into a deadly situation. That enemy was a murderer known as Young El. This time, Tim wasn't telling anyone else why they should save a murderer's life out loud. These were his private thoughts.

Notice how Tim's inner monologue sounded kind of on-the-fence. He contemplated justice finally catching up with Young El as the floorboards gave way, bringing a support beam down on him in the process.

However, Tim immediately switched gears to rescue Young El from under that beam before the water rose too high.

But Tim, as he told Young El the reasons he's saving him, asked himself "Do I even believe what I'm saying?" He could be asking this about two different things he said here. A) "Maybe it's not too late for you to learn something, Young El.", or B) "Death's easier for you when it's the other guy. Death's never been easy for me."

For Tim to doubt his belief in either of these statements is very interesting. He could be questioning if Young El is already too far gone for redemption, or he could be questioning if seeing someone die has never been easy for himself. For all we know, it could be both.

Unfortunately, Tim never got to see if his choice to save him would pay off. Tim wasn't strong enough to lift that beam, and Young El drowned.

There's a question on my mind as I read these pages. What makes this murderer's death different from when Tim let King Snake fall to his "death"? Sure, King Snake didn't actually die, but Tim didn't know that until later when the man came looking for revenge in Gotham.

Tim was once able to simply walk away from what he was certain would be a killer's demise. But then he's consumed by guilt over not being able to prevent a different killer's death down the line, to the point of hallucinating.

On top of that, what changed Tim's mind later? Red Robin #26 and Robins 2021 #3-6 still happened in the future. The only significant difference I can tell is that these two comics involved the killer's of Tim's parents, making it personal. But if the Imposter from Robins 2021 got his beliefs from his profile before his mother's killer got involved, then does that still hold up?

Maybe we should put a pin on it for now. There are other things Tim's done that brings the details of his no-kill rule into question.

Such as that one time Tim actually killed someone with his bare hands.

In Robin issues #51-52, Tim accidentally killed Lady Shiva while drugged on amarilla, a plant that enhances the user's speed beyond human limitations.

It may be argued if the amarilla altered Tim's mind enough to excuse him of fault or not. However, I want to focus on what happened after Shiva was revived. Here's another question to go with the first one:

Does Tim believe the kill still counts if the victim was revived afterwards?

From what I've gathered, yes and no. It's kind of complicated.

After Tim killed Shiva, he was understandably distressed about it, about how he can never take it back.

But after Shiva came back to life? Nothing. He didn't dwell on the fact he broke the vow to never kill. For something that devastating to happen in his life, it's odd that Tim didn't bring it up ever again, privately or otherwise. Especially considering what happened later in Robin #123, when Tim thought he killed Johnny Warlock.

Tim was utterly inconsolable. He lost all faith in his abilities as Robin, and in himself as a whole. It also contributed to his decision to quit being Robin after his dad found out. In general, he seriously dwelled on that "kill" for a much longer time than he had after killing Shiva. The difference being that he knew Shiva was resuscitated immediately afterwards, while Tim didn't know Johnny survived until issue #141.

But there's the fact that Shiva really did die. Her heart and breathing both stopped. So are we to believe Tim moved on from that so easily because she's alive now? What happened to never getting that back?

Come to think of it, not long after Tim killed and revived Shiva, there was someone else who landed in that same boat. Dick.

In Joker: The Last Laugh #6, Dick brutally attacked the Joker after believing he killed Tim. Dick ended up accidentally killing Joker instead, before the clown was resuscitated.

Here's the thing. While Tim was trying to comfort Dick, saying that it's ok because Joker's alive now, Dick didn't believe so. He was still distraught that he killed someone. The fact Joker came back to life afterwards didn't matter to him. To Dick, it still counted. So what does that say about Tim?

Before we move on, there's another person Tim knows who also died and came back from the grave. Jason.

Tim openly acknowledged Jason was killed before coming back, too. Multiple times. For example, when they met up in Red Hood and the Outlaws 2011 #8.

Tim hadn't shown any signs that he thinks Jason's murder doesn't count anywhere, except for maybe once.

In Knight Terrors: Robin #2, Tim and Jason had a heart-to-heart, and Tim said something strange.

"You survived."

Except Jason didn't survive. He died. To say Jason survived that night would've meant he never died to begin with. Him being alive now doesn't change that. Was this Tim telling a white lie to make Jason feel better? Or does Tim see being revived after death as "surviving"?

Ok, now we can move onto the next question. Or rather, bear with me as we go back to the first question. It's a broad topic with plenty more to talk about.

What does Tim count as breaking the no-kill rule?

We already asked how Tim feels about bringing villains back from the dead after killing them. And we asked how Tim feels about leaving a villain to die without getting directly involved. However, we still don't know how much involvement Tim needs to have in an enemy's death before he'll take responsibility for it.

We can confirm he won't mercy kill in Red Robin #21, even if it means giving someone a fate worse than death. No exceptions.

Tim also doesn't allow anyone he's actively teaming up with to kill, especially if he's the one in command. He's been amicable with known killers before (Huntress and Pru, for example), but only when they remain non-lethal while working alongside him.

Apart from that, though, it becomes less clear. However, I think this is a good place to expand on when Tim blew up a lot of League of Assassins bases in Red Robin #8.

I'm not going into whether or not those explosions actually killed anyone. I've seen evidence supporting both sides of this debate, so I'm just going to say it's up to interpretation. What I AM talking about is whether or not Tim would've felt responsible if they had killed someone.

Before overloading every generator in the LOA database, Tim gave a warning to the Wanderer. He told her that he couldn't be held responsible for what would happen to her if she didn't leave.

After initiating the explosions, Tim warned the White Ghost that they had fifteen seconds to leave before it was too late.

Fifteen seconds. That explanation on the mistake of letting him in might've taken roughly another fifteen to twenty seconds. Did the other bases even get a full minute head start? The way some of the people were already running away could imply they at least got a warning, but it's possible they might not have.

Even if everyone in every base received a warning, would that be enough for Tim to avoid holding himself accountable if they didn't make it out in time? Tim's the one who rigged the bases to explode, but I guess giving someone a warning means it's now their fault for not heeding it?

We can't be sure he even considered the possibility of those explosions killing anyone. Tim knew they were dangerous enough to bring the whole Cradle down, and the other ones we saw looked pretty powerful (except the ones in Ra's hideout). But Tim also called Ra's a murderer right after that happened, which would've been very hypocritical if Tim himself thought he committed murder.

So, my guess is either A) Tim relied on sheer luck for those explosions not causing any casualties and chose to believe they hadn't, or B) Tim didn't believe the deaths of anyone caught in them would be his fault.

Again, this isn't about whether or not blowing up the LOA bases killed anyone. It's about how willing Tim was to take that risk, and if he would've blamed himself for anyone getting killed from it.

Either way, it's canon that Tim had no guilt for the explosions he caused, or for anything he did before Red Robin #22. Just ask the Sword of Sin.

This is an exerpt I got from the Fandom DC Database on the Sword of Sin:

"The Sword of Sin can be ignited with the mind of the wielder, if the person is powerful enough. The sword has the ability to conjure in the mind its victims all of the sins for which they are guilty or have not atoned for."

When Tim was stabbed with this sword, he was immune. The Sword of Sin decided he was innocent. Although, I have to ask how reliable this sword was in making that judgement. If the sword is judging others based on its own set principles, then something's not right here.

The Sword of Sin was also used on Dick, and he wasn't immune. It dug into Dicks subconscious and unearthed memories he'd long since repressed. Memories of himself watching a boy get beaten to near death, and then doing nothing. He just walked away.

Now, tell me why the sword brought this to light, but not the time Tim left King Snake to die!

It wasn't an accident. Tim deliberately chose to leave instead of trying to save this man from the murderous Lady Shiva. Sure, Tim was no match for Shiva and he might've not been able to stop her, but the same could be said for an eight year old Dick not stopping a group of much older kids. Neither of them tried to stop the attackers.

Tim didn't atone for it, either. When King Snake returned in Batman #469, Bruce told King Snake that it wasn't Tim who left him to die. We know that's a lie, but Tim never corrected this. He let Shiva take all the blame.

We have two instances of a boy choosing not to prevent someone from having a near death experience. One guilty, and one innocent.

Did the Sword of Sin think Tim was justified because King Snake was corrupt? That doesn't sound holy to me.

Was it because Tim didn't feel any guilt over it, while Dick did? Can the sword's judgement be thrown off by the victim not feeling any shred of guilt over their actions, even subconsciously?

That could make sense given what we know Tim did in the past: King Snake falling, the vandalism (explosions), and ALL the lying over the years (Tim reviving Shiva might count as atonement, so I'm not including that). If the sword based its judgement on God's will alone, then odds are high it would've picked up on one of these.

Even so, I'm not going to sit here and say this is definitely the case. I'm not familiar enough with how the sword effects other characters to make that call.

If this is indeed false, then did the DC universe's version of God decide to pardon Tim of his sins when he prayed earlier that same issue, despite him not believing he had any? I mean, who knows, right?

You can probably see why there's more questions than answers. The point is Tim didn't have any guilt for the things he did before Red Robin #22. Tim was canonically convinced he had nothing to atone for.

So then why did he say the opposite later in Knight Terrors: Robin #2?!

In the heart-to-heart between Tim and Jason, Tim tells him this:

"You have a lot to atone for...We all do..."

Tim knows that the words "we all" include him, right? By saying this, Tim admitted to also having things he needs to atone for, right?

Is this another white lie to make Jason feel better? Is it one of those slight changes the New 52 made to the canon? If not, then why did he change his mind? Did his no-kill rule change and make him feel guilty for some past actions? Is it not the no-kill rule, but something else?

What changed?!

Where does Tim draw the line?

I don't know. We've narrowed it down to a general area, but it's kinda hard to see a line when it's so blurred it could be a gradient.

Tim baffles me. He acts as a steady moral compass for others when he can't even seem to stay consistent with his own. You're free to call it poor writing (and honestly, fair), but I find his hypocrisy fascinating.

That's what it is, isn't it? Tim's a hypocrite who's completely oblivious to being one. And it's not like this was never mentioned in the comics before. Damian called him out on it!

In Batman & Robin 2011 #10, Damian confronted Tim about his near-murderous reaction when Fist Point killed Artemis (Teen Titans Vol 4 annual #1). Damian then accused Tim of constantly rejecting him because they have more in common than Tim's willing to admit.

It's debatable how accurate that accusation was, but Tim had a pretty volatile reaction to it.

"I believe in every choice I make!"

Does he? I don't think someone who's so sure of what he believes in would contradict himself to this extent. Especially if he wasn't doing it on purpose.

He wouldn't vehemently push Bruce's no-kill rule onto others and berate them for bending that rule, only to go and bend that same rule himself when the Batclan isn't around. He also wouldn't exploit what he thinks are loopholes, decide later that those loopholes broke the no-kill rule, and then earnestly claim he never broke it.

Why is he like this?! He's had arguably the most normal childhood out of the whole Batclan before becoming Robin! What could've made him so fickle about this?!

Where does he draw the line? And how will he know when he's crossed it?

[nickeverdeen]

Hi could you do a five hargreeves x female!reader where reader is normal and doesn't have powers but she's a genius and basically has a photographic memory, and she meets five and he's a bit mean and snarky but eventually he starts to fall for her

I also think it would be funny if she was kinda best friends with Klaus and he kinda teases her about five, but you don't have to include that

Guns And Brains | Five Hargreeves x genius fem!reader

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!reader, Klaus Hargreeves x fem!reader (best friend)

Warning: None

PS: Sorry for the unoriginal title

———————————

You were used to being the smartest person in the room. It wasn’t arrogance; it was simply a fact. Your photographic memory allowed you to absorb and recall information with an almost eerie accuracy. In school, you never needed to study, and in life, you rarely encountered a problem you couldn’t solve. You had grown accustomed to the bemused looks and occasional irritation that came from people who found your talents either intimidating or annoying.

Yet here you are, standing in the middle of an ancient-looking mansion, face-to-face with a boy who exuded an air of superiority that rubbed you entirely the wrong way. Five Hargreeves—if you remembered correctly from the vague mentions in tabloids about the dysfunctional Umbrella Academy—was a strange, prodigious enigma. He looked like a teenager, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he was anything but.

From the moment Klaus had introduced you, you could sense the tension brewing. It wasn’t just the way Five had narrowed his eyes at you, or the clipped tone he used when addressing you. It was the challenge in his gaze, the unspoken assertion that he was smarter, quicker, better. The way he practically dared you to prove him wrong.

“Who’s this?” Five had asked, his tone flat and disinterested, as if your presence was more of an inconvenience than anything else.

“This is Y/N,” Klaus had said cheerfully, apparently oblivious to the storm clouds brewing between them. “She’s got a brain like a supercomputer—remember everything she’s ever read, seen, or heard. Thought she might be able to help us out.”

Five’s eyes had flickered with something—annoyance, skepticism, you couldn’t quite tell. “We don’t need help,” he’d said brusquely. “Especially not from someone who thinks they can waltz in and solve problems that are far beyond their understanding.”

And there it was—the gauntlet thrown down. You had felt your spine stiffen, your own competitive streak flaring up in response. You didn’t like the way he assumed you were just some book-smart outsider with no practical experience, especially when he hadn’t even given you a chance to prove otherwise.

“I’m not here to solve your problems,” you replied, your tone sharp. “But from what I’ve heard, you could use all the help you can get.”

Klaus had tried to mediate, sensing the tension. “Alright, kids, play nice. We’re all on the same team here.”

But you had seen the look in Five’s eyes—a mix of condescension and irritation. He clearly didn’t think much of you, and that was something you weren’t about to let slide. If there was one thing you despised, it was being underestimated.

The first few days in the mansion were… interesting, to say the least. Klaus had introduced you to the rest of the siblings, all of whom had their own unique quirks and issues. Luther was stoic and serious, Allison was kind but guarded, Diego was intense, and Viktor was quiet, almost withdrawn. They were an odd bunch, but in some ways, you felt more at ease with them than you did with Five.

Five, on the other hand, seemed determined to make you feel unwelcome. Whenever you offered a suggestion, he’d shoot it down without a second thought. When you tried to engage him in a discussion about the theories he was working on, he’d dismiss your opinions with a wave of his hand, as if your thoughts were nothing more than background noise.

It was infuriating.

At first, you tried to stay calm. Your reminded yourself that you were here to help, not to butt heads with a stubborn man who had likely seen more in his lifetime than you could ever imagine. But as the days passed, you found your patience wearing thin.

The breaking point came one evening when you were all gathered around the dining table, discussing the latest anomaly that Five was trying to unravel. He was pacing back and forth, spouting off calculations and theories at a rapid pace. The others were listening intently, but you could see the confusion in their eyes.

“Maybe if we adjusted the parameters slightly,” you suggested, your tone measured, “we could account for the temporal flux and—”

Five cut you off with a snort. “That’s a ridiculous idea. Adjusting the parameters would only destabilize the entire equation. You clearly don’t understand the complexities of time travel.”

Your jaw clenched. “And you clearly don’t understand the value of listening to other people’s input. Just because you’ve traveled through time doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Five stopped pacing and turned to face you, his expression cold. “I’ve spent decades—decades—working on these equations. You’ve been here for a week. Don’t presume to know more than I do.”

The room went silent. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but you didn’t back down. You were tired of Five’s arrogance, tired of him treating you like you were some naive child who had wandered into his domain.

“Maybe I don’t know more than you,” you said, your voice steady. “But I’m not an idiot, and I’m not going to stand here and let you treat me like one. If you’re so confident in your theories, then why not test them? Or are you afraid that someone else might actually have a better idea?”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said, his tone icy. “Let’s test it. And when it fails, you can stop wasting our time with your half-baked theories.”

You didn’t respond. You simply nodded and turned your attention back to the problem at hand, determined to prove him wrong.

The next few days were tense, to say the least. You and Five worked together, but it was clear that neither of you were happy about it. Every interaction was laced with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults. Yet, beneath the hostility, there was a grudging respect forming, though neither of you would admit it.

Despite his arrogance, you couldn’t help but be impressed by Five’s intellect. He was brilliant, there was no denying that. His mind worked at a speed that rivaled your own, and his knowledge of temporal mechanics was unmatched. But he was also infuriatingly stubborn, refusing to consider any idea that wasn’t his own.

For his part, Five found himself both annoyed and intrigued by you. You were smart—smarter than he’d initially given you credit for. Your insights were often sharp and on point, even if he was loath to admit it. But what bothered him the most was how you challenged him, pushing back against his authority in a way no one else dared to. It was unsettling, and yet… he found himself drawn to it.

One afternoon, as you were pouring over another set of calculations, you suddenly spoke up.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, not looking up from the paper in front of you.

“Dangerous,” Five muttered under his breath, but there was no real bite to his words.

You ignored him. “You’re right about the temporal flux destabilizing if we adjust the parameters too much. But what if we didn’t adjust them directly? What if we introduced a stabilizing agent that could counterbalance the fluctuations?”

Five paused, considering your words. It wasn’t a completely ridiculous idea. In fact, it was… interesting. But he wasn’t about to let you know that.

“It’s a long shot,” he said instead, his tone dismissive.

“Maybe,” you conceded. “But it’s worth a try. Unless you have a better idea?”

Five scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. “Fine. We’ll try it your way. But don’t get used to it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, a small smirk playing on your lips.

As you worked together, there was a noticeable shift in the air between you two. The barbs were still there, but they were less sharp, the insults less cutting. It was as if you were beginning to acknowledge each other as equals—rivals, perhaps, but with a mutual respect that was slowly, begrudgingly, forming.

Weeks passed, and the initial tension between you and Five began to ease, replaced by a rhythm of sorts. You still bickered, still challenged each other at every turn, but there was a camaraderie in it now. A strange, twisted camaraderie, but camaraderie nonetheless.

The others noticed it too. Klaus, in particular, found endless amusement in your interactions, often teasing you about your “little crush” on Five.

“Admit it,” Klaus says with a grin. “You two are just one good argument away from kissing.”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his comments, but you couldn’t deny that there was a certain… tension between you and Five. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. The last thing you wanted was to give Five the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin in more ways than one.

But the turning point came one evening, when you were working late in the mansion’s library. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft rustle of papers as you pored over your latest set of equations. You were focused, your mind fully absorbed in the problem at hand, when you felt a pair of eyes on you.

You looked up, only to find Five watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was something in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” You asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Five hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “You’re not as annoying as I thought you were.”

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but coming from Five, it was close enough. You felt a small smile tug at your lips. “You’re not as unbearable as I thought you were either.”

Five’s lips quirked up in the faintest hint of a smile. “High praise.”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, the tension between you two shifting into something else. Something neither of you were quite ready to name.

[venusdandy]

God's Rival

[Hazbin Hotel x GN!Reader] [Platonic]

[Part Two]

Story Summary: The Demiurge is what they decided to call you. You aren't human, angel, or demon. You're something else entirely—an enigma in each realm. The only being who had ever shown you kindness was the fallen angel Lucifer since he freed you from Heaven's prison by offering Eve the apple from your tree. You promised him a fruitful favor in exchange, but he has not asked anything from you. Until now, that is.

Chapter Summary: In the back garden area of the Hazbin Hotel, you're summoned to Hell by Lucifer's and Charlie's combined magic. You finally meet the human souls—your spiritual children, who you sensed were saying your name last evening. You're delighted to be able to aid your dear friend Lucifer in protecting his family and home from Heaven.

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns). No use of (y/n). The reader is genderless and AroAce—platonic relationships with the characters only.

A/N: I wanted to let everyone know this story is now on AO3 (VenusDandy)! I also have a tag list here if you'd like to be added.

Part 1 Part 2 (here)

Your eyes are closed as you relax in your hammock and feel the sunlight warm your soul. You're humming a song you heard from your last visit to Earth that's been unable to leave your head. The birds in the trees above you had begun to sing along.

A sudden strong gust of wind nearly knocks you off, but you're quick to grasp the sides of the hammock to help balance. You quietly laugh to yourself as you peek an eye open. One of your creations, a pteranodon, landed a few feet away from you at the lake's edge to eat some fish.

For this reason, you keep the lake closest to your palace filled with life. The amount of happiness you receive when you see your creations eating gives your soul well-needed peace. You love seeing your children happy!

Speaking of your children, you feel that familiar vibration in your soul telling you a human has mentioned your name. A side effect after Eve ate the apple from your tree was that it forever connected your soul to humankind—your spiritual children.

Four deceased humans that have become demons, a fallen angel, and the Princess and King of Hell themselves are discussing you. You feel honored that they are considering asking for your help. You mainly use your energy and time to maintain the mortal realm's chaos and observe alive human souls. You pay less attention once they pass into the afterlife since it is not your domain.

Another chuckle escapes your lips. You have been wondering when Lucifer would cash in the favor you owe him. You were beginning to believe he had forgotten. Although you would prefer to continue staying out of Hell's and Heaven's pissing contest, if Lucifer requests for you to aid him, you have no objections to that. You respect the eldest Morningstar greatly after all he has done for you and humanity.

A content sigh leaves your lips as you go back to humming. You'll indeed be summoned to Hell by Lucifer soon, so you'll use your remaining time in the mortal realm to relax.

.

One last time, Lucifer scrambles around the immense sigil engraved in the dirt of the Hazbin Hotel's abandoned garden. He's pretty sure he's drawn your sigil correctly; he's only ever seen it once when you emerged from the apple tree in Eden, so it's entirely from memory.

"Okay," Lucifer semi-confidently says, "Okay, I think I got it."

Alastor has a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he hums, "Hmm, try walking around it ten more times to make sure."

Lucifer huffs with a glare. "Why are you even here? There's no reason for you to be here right now!"

"Who am I not to greet our guest who will aid us in war?" Alastor says with a twirl of his cane, "As the manager of this Hotel, that is my duty!"

Vaggie quickly stands in front of everyone with her hands on her hips. "Alright, let's go over this again!"

Vaggie points to Angel, "No flirting with the Demiurge!"-then to Husk-"No sarcastic remarks that can piss them off!"-then to Niffty, "No knives or sharp things that would threaten them!"-Then to Alastor "And no making deals with the Demiurge! Got it?"

Varying agreements ring out, some more irritated than others, but it satisfies Vaggie nonetheless.

Charlie is excited and slightly nervous as she stands next to her father. Lucifer had said he'd need her assistance for the summoning ritual since it requires powerful Celestial magic. Not just anyone can summon the Demiurge.

Lucifer lets out a breath of anxiety and rubs his bare hands together. "Ready, Charlie? Do you remember what we rehearsed?" He asks with a nervous smile.

Charlie nods firmly. "Ready!"

Lucifer and Charlie then shift into their more demonic forms to channel more of their magic before twirling their arms in graceful mannerisms. Lucifer begins chanting in the ancient Celestial language, which causes the sigil in the dirt to glow golden.

Vaggie anxiously clutches herself as her gaze never leaves Charlie's form. She knows her lover is powerful and capable of protecting herself, but Vaggie can't help but worry about her. A gentle, clawed hand rests on her shoulder, causing her to shift her gaze to her left, seeing Alastor grinning down at her. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes share a confident reassurance that strangely makes her feel a bit better.

The ground beneath them all began to rumble as if an Earthquake was happening. Niffty laughs as she uncontrollably falls to the ground, but Angel quickly swoops in and holds her tightly.

Once Lucifer and Charlie finish the ritual, they take a few careful steps back to join the others.

The sigil's golden glow brightens, then dims to nothing just as quickly. The ground beneath them stills once again. Everyone doesn't move as they wait for what will happen next. . .

Before Lucifer could question if he performed the ritual incorrectly, a large blaze of golden flames twists above the sigil, causing a few surprised gasps. Within the fire, a silhouette could be seen taking form.

Strong gusts of wind swirling around nearly blow the habitants of the Hazbin Hotel off their feet. They're quick to grasp onto each other for stability, other than Alastor, who uses his tendrils of shadow to ground himself.

Once the wind finally puts the fire out, it gradually falls into a light breeze. At the center of the sigil is a deity that stands at 120 meters. A golden-scaled serpent with the head of a mighty golden-brown lion. Their eyes glow brightly and shine into Hell's eerie red sky, and their sharp teeth are a perfect white—the Demiurge's true form.

You stare down at the beings who summoned you. Your eyes land on Lucifer, who stares up at you with a nervous smile. He looks more tired than how you remember him. He slowly waves, and you roar to greet him a bit too loudly since some of the beings below clutch their ears.

You then close your eyes as you shift into your humanoid form so you can speak eye-to-eye with everyone—the sounds of bones breaking and reshaping echo around everyone grossly.

Once you take your desired form, you eagerly reopen your eyes with a giant smile. You're very excited! "Lucifer Morningstar, how have you been, my dear friend?"

Although Lucifer was surprised you called him a friend, it eased his anxiety about you being here. He clears his throat awkwardly before greeting you properly with your name. "I've been uh- I've certainly been better, but I'm still kicking. Heh."

"Happiness is not a destination; it is a neverending journey." You remark with a hum, "I hope after we deal with Heaven's aggression toward Hell that it will ease your worries and bring happiness to you all."

The fact you already know why you've been summoned surprises everyone. You were in another realm far away from them, weren't you? How could you possibly know why Lucifer summoned you? Now Lucifer's anxiety peaks again. You're far too knowledgeable, and it makes him feel you're at least 100 steps ahead of him. It could be good or bad, depending on the context of your aspirations.

You shift your attention to the Princess and send her a kind smile. "Princess Charlie, it is a pleasure to meet you finally! I've heard wonderful things about you along the grapevine, child." You reach a hand out to greet her, noticing the younger fallen angel beside her tense up.

Charlie nervously smiles back as she shakes your hand. "Oh? It's lovely to meet you as well! I've heard things- good things about you from my dad."

Your eyes crinkle in amusement. You then glance amongst the four human souls staring at you intensely; you can sense their bubbling emotions. "I thought I heard my title being said last evening."

The look of regret is visible as Angel pales. The way you phrased it doesn't sound very good, as if you knew every word discussed about you last night—or rather ever. And Angel said some crude remarks about you! Husk is a bit nervous, too, since he straight-up said you have mommy issues. Your mommy issues got you locked away for millions of years because you lashed out at Heaven! And Husk does not want to be on the receiving end of your chaos! Niffty wouldn't mind your chaos, though.

"So, that means you're aware I'd like to ask that favor of you finally?" Lucifer asks uncertainly, "I'll admit I was hesitant to call upon you since I don't know how you feel about Heaven these days."

You hum in acknowledgment. "A fair judgment, although I have no qualms about protecting Hell from Heaven. You all fought in self-defense against the exorcists." You smile at each soul, "I shall do everything in my power to aid you all, although I must warn you, Heaven will not be pleased that the Demiurge will be fighting against them once again."

With her golden heart, Charlie grabs your hands with a much calmer smile. "We won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with! We all will understand if fighting against Heaven isn't safe for you."

Your old heart beats with bittersweet happiness at Charlie's words. You've heard about her kind-hearted personality, but witnessing it firsthand puts it in perspective. You see so much of her father in her.

You squeeze her hands reassuringly. "I appreciate your kindness greatly, child."-you gently release her hands-"I'm afraid that once it is known that I am aiding Hell, Heaven will send their most powerful Celestial beings, ones that only Lucifer and I have fought against."

Alastor quietly hums at that. He's a lot bit egotistical, but even he must admit that sounds rather dramatic. Your eyes then meet his, making his ears twitch back slightly. You're difficult to read. Much like him, your smile hasn't faltered, though yours is more genuine than his stitched grin.

"Alastor the Radio Demon," your amused voice rings out, "Did you want to say something, my child?"

Slight unease is bubbling inside Alastor, causing his claws to tap the top of his microphone cane. He doesn't like feeling this way. Masking his nerves, he tilts his head and keeps his smile strong. "The Demiurge has heard of me? Why, I'm quite honored my broadcasts have reached your ears!"

Your eyes squint with a lighthearted gleam. "I remember your radio broadcasts from when you were alive, too, my child."

The unexpected words cause Alastor's eyes to blow wide. Alive? How much does the Demiurge know about him, exactly? He doesn't like being this much in the unknown or having this much lack of control. . .

Your attention shifts to the other three human souls. "And here we have Anthony or Angel Dust, as you prefer. Then, the former Gambling Demon Husk. And Niffty, the demon who slaughtered the first man, Adam." You smile warmly, "It is a pleasure to meet you all, my children."

Niffty giggles at the memory, not bothered by you or your information on her or her friends. "I did do that!"

On the other hand, Angel is frowning because he has a clue that you don't know him because of his career here in Hell. That you know his darkest secrets and hidden emotions from when he was alive. Now he's starting to get why Lucifer was hesitant to summon you. . .

Husk's brows are furrowed. Clearly, from just witnessing your natural form that could rival Godzilla, you're not the average soul. You already know them all, even hinting that you know of their lives as humans. Was this basic knowledge the Demiurge already had, or did you do research beforehand? Husk isn't sure, but he plans to monitor you closely.

Charlie nervously clasps her hands in front of her. She's a bit unnerved you already know everyone, but then again, for a deity like you, that knowledge is probably easily accessible.

Vaggie, not about to let your creepy knowledge of them slide, asks with a threatening undertone, "How exactly do you already know why Lucifer and Charlie summoned you? And care to explain why you know a little too much about everyone?"

Lucifer snaps his worried eyes to Maggie Vaggie. He had the same questions, but he wasn't about to go and ask them! What if you get irritated?! What if you leave?!

You smile warmly at the young fallen angel, hoping to calm her protective soul, "You must be Vaggie; it is a pleasure to meet you, child."

Her eyes squint with suspicion, and if Charlie weren't holding onto her waist so tightly, she'd have waltzed on over to you. You dodged her question!

Lucifer loudly claps his hands, bringing everyone's attention back to him. With a nervous chuckle, he says, "I know how much being summoned to another realm can zap your energy, so how about we take a moment to rest inside and get better acquainted? What'd you say?"

You nod in agreement. "I would greatly appreciate that, friend."

You look back to Vaggie, "Then I will answer your questions, child." That brings some relief to Vaggie. At least you're willing to give answers. . .

With the others following close behind, Lucifer leads you into the Hazbin Hotel, asking if you are hungry or thirsty and listing too many options. He doesn't know how posh you are and is trying his best to please you. He's so afraid of you lashing out.

You understand why Lucifer is nervous about your presence; you would also be if you were in his position. Lucifer was one of the many angels from Heaven sent to investigate your existence. He witnessed your absolute most destructive moment when you lashed out at Heaven with all you had. You don't look back on the memory of your younger self fondly, but you do not regret your choices. You witnessed Heaven slaughter your children, and you couldn't save them back then.

You want Lucifer to know he is your friend, and you will never hurt him or his family. He never hurt you or your children; you remember him protecting them.

With a whisper of a touch on his shoulder, Lucifer interrupts himself and instead looks to you. You don't say a word, but the empathetic glow in your eyes calms every worry Lucifer has about you.

Lucifer can see in your eyes that you are genuinely here to help them, to help him and his family.

With a more comfortable smile resting on his lips, Lucifer tells you, "I'll make us all pancakes!"

If Heaven plans to slaughter your children here in Hell, well, you'll just have to slaughter the angels first.

.

Tag List: @paastaboi @gasoline-eater @rabioa @m00nd0v3

[saturnville]

sad girl, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan x amelia mae

content: in the beginning stages of their relationship, amelia finds herself questioning john and the nature of their relationship.

song reference: sad girl by lana del rey

an: idk this song does something to me. should I make a tag list?

John Egan was an enigma. A puzzle that was impossible to solve. A language she couldn’t translate. A concept she couldn’t grasp. It angered her. It sent her into emotional overload and overwhelmed her mind. She couldn’t make sense of him and it pained her. 

She found herself in her head, swimming through the sea of intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind. He wasn’t serious about her. He wasn’t capable of loving her. That was evident by the way his eyes followed the silhouette of a pretty blonde at the pub while she washed dishes and served drinks to the armymen. He didn’t know she noticed. Why would he? To him, she was nothing but a girl he’d gone on a few dates with. They weren’t committed; he owed her no loyalty. 

Her attempts at keeping her facial expressions at bay were a failure. When she rose her head, she caught the sympathetic eyes of the emphatic Gale Cleven. The smile on her face quivered as she turned her back and continued with her task. 

And his hesitancy, oh God, his hesitancy to decline a dance from a woman broke her even further. Sure, she should have been glad that he declined the brunette’s advances regardless, but the fact that he took the time to think. To ponder. To debate, made her sick to her stomach. 

She wept like a child that night. She accepted his peck on the cheek at the end of the evening, “You alright, doll?” His voice sent a chill down her spine. It stayed with her until she went home, then wept like a child. 

She was asked about him by her best friend. If only she could describe all that he was, and all that he wasn’t. He was a complex case that needed to be studied. Dissected and picked apart like an experiment. She nodded once and said, “He is a beautiful human, truly. Bold and wild like a fire. He walks in it with pride and warms everyone he comes in contact with.”

Her friend sensed the sadness laced in her words. With a small voice, she asked in return, “It sounds like you aren’t too happy about that. What’s that about?”

With a sad smile pulled at her lips. Amelia shrugged and dropped her hands into her lap defeatedly. Quietly she admitted, "I don't know if he can love me the way I love him. I think...my worst fear is that he'll light me on fire and leave me to burn in the flames...."

---

likes are nice, but please share feedback, friends!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man.  Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy.  That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband.  First of all, he was quite a bit older than you.  Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father.  Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist.  Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that.  It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents.  He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again.  And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing.  He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure.  It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents.  He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler.  A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager.  He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though.  You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you.  And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured.  “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised.  “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you.  That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed.  “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home.  Your new home.  “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded.  “Of course.  I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything.  “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him.  “I don’t expect anything from you now.  Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?” 

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them.  “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress.  Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him.  Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs.  Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.  

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right?  It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that.  Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it.  He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself.  One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak.  “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath.  You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him.  Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again.  “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus.  That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before.  But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that.  “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered.  “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening.  I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart.  But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you.  It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything.  He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you.  It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped.  You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately.  And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.  

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really.  You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern.  His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment.  Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed.  You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening.  Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room.  A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed.  You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen.  You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly.  With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw.  You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way.  Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before.  And you were his, truly.  You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up.  It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball.  Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear.  And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage.  This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day.  It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night.  But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part.  Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element.  Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you.  You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming.  His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest.  His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible.  You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here.  He was so… masculine.  His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you.  You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you.  His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours.  This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.  

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours.  And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach.  You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear.  “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck.  “I know,” you replied.  “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find.  His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered.  “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted.  “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs.  He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up.  Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin.  “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers.  Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away.  “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed.  “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded.  He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly.  And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here.  I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders.  So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating.  “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs.  There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly.  Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked.  Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex.  Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good?  Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction.  Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch.  How could he do that to you so easily?  “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath.  “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this.  Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it.  “You have so much to learn.  I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued.  “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself.  He pressed harder and your whole body jumped.  “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer.  “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again.  Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time.  If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours.  What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised.  “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed.  “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound.  “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then.  He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit.  You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted.  He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more.  It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed.  “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch.  I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully.  You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly.  He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly.  “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly.  You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw.  Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts.  You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch.  You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response.  “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words.  “Is it true you’re really my wife?  This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly.  “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again.  “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper.  And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it.  You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural.  You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something.  Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good.  Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect.  Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine.  “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say?  ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become.  You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered.  You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly.  “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response.  “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you.  “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him.  “See?  Just let me take control, my love.  I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard.  You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature.  Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again.  It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before.  Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something?  You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it.  I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive.  “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking.  He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised.  “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation.  “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh.  “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation.  I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical.  Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time.  There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”.  “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained.  “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy.  And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend.  The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child.  You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted.  Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you.  “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes.  This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this?  Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him.  Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs.  Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt.  He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight.  “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted.  Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way.  “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you.  He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself.  Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.  

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel.  You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded.  “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.  

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling.  It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place.  If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier?  There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now.  “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you.  “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin.  “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive.  Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.  

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued.  The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered.  “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure.  His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body.  Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body.  Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.  

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way.  The highest, the heaviest, the most whole.  You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more.  Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.  

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss.  You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly.  “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least.  You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips.  Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present.  You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten.  You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to.  What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you.  Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared.  It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking.  You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him.  Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit.  It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly.  And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.  

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last.  Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him.  “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you.  Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop.  I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.  

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh. 

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin.  “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted.  “Your pleasure is what I desire.  And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even.  “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured.  “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too.  It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it.  You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt.  His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath.  “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.  

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded.  “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours.  Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged.  “I want it inside, Laszlo.  I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence.  He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself.  Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference.  His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected.  He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back.  “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could.  But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back.  It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you.  It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him.  You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges.  The whole world seemed a bit softer, really.  “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply.  “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach.  “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant.  “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed.  “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you.  But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally.  I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind.  Unladylike.  Animalistic.  Desperate.  Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered.  But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it.  Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now.  “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment.  His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant.  “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

[notapradagurl7]

Keep A Distance.

Pairings: Black Fem! Cop!Reader x Armando Aretas.

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe.

Summary: You were a cop working on the runaway Armando Aretas case, alongside Mike and Marcus but decided to go solo by working undercover.

Taglist: @lovedlover @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @westside-rot @keyera-jackson @browngirldominion @swavydadon @playgurlxoxo @nerdieforpedro

Warnings: PWP, doesn't follow the film’s timeline, profanity, mention of guns, mention of violence, erotic asphyxiation/choking, Armando being persistent to the reader, dacryphila, consensual for both parties, short fic.

————

The light from the computer illuminated on your brown skin with your hand resting on the mouse, clicking on the file on the desktop with the picture of vibrant roses. Opening the file, your eyes scan the information and criminal records.

All that work just to lose him out of your sight again.

“Armando Aretas is still on the loose after taking control of the Aretas cartel when his mother was tragically burned in a fire.” the reporter spoke up.

You sighed and shook your head in disapproval, you pushed the power button on the remote, turning off the television, there was no way to catch this guy after playing this game of cat and mouse. Your finger pressed the power button and watched the computer fade to black.

You were working for the Miami Police Department as a cop, moving your way to a respected and it was every man and woman looking out for themselves.

It was a shame that you had to endure the shit from men and women in the police department.

Standing up from the desk, you walked out of your office. You approached the main office with determination.

Marcus and Mike stood by each other, you gave them fist bumps while "What's the latest, detective?" Mike asked, leaning against the desk with a smirk.

"Same old, same old. Aretas is still slipping through our fingers," you replied, crossing your arms. "I think it’s time I take matters into my own hands."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? You know this guys plays fucking dirty."

“Yeah, well, dirty is my middle name,” you shot back, the fire in your belly igniting.

“Just keep your head on straight, alright?” Marcus warned, his tone serious. “We can’t afford to lose you too.”

You shrugged off their concern. “I appreciate it, but I’m not going in blind. I have a plan.”

“Which involves what? Seducing him?” Mike chuckled, but you noticed a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Something like that,” you replied, your smile a little too sly. “I’ll get close enough to gather intel; I won’t get too comfortable.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcus said, not buying it. “And what makes you think he won’t be the one to get too comfortable?”

Mike knew that you could take care of yourself but Armando was his son, he had Mike’s genes running through him. Once Mike called Armando the fucked up version of himself.

“Because I know how to keep a distance,” you replied, your voice steady.

“Just remember, he’s not some petty thief. He’s dangerous, Armando is Mike’s son” Marcus reiterated.

“I can handle myself,” you asserted, turning on your heel. “I’ve got this.”

As you stepped out of the precinct, the Miami heat hit you like a wall. You pulled your box braids into a tight bun, adjusting your badge before heading to your car. You knew you had to find Armando's weaknesses, and if it meant playing the role of an alluring enigma, then so be it.

Later that night, you found yourself at a dimly-lit bar, the kind where the shadows danced as much as the patrons. You leaned against the bar, scanning the room. The air was thick with tension as a mix of laughter and whispered conversations filled the space.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied, your gaze still fixed on the entrance.

Moments later, the door swung open, and in walked Armando Aretas. He was a silhouette of charm and danger, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Your heart raced as he scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on you.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to you, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you replied, your tone playful yet guarded.

“Armando,” he said, extending his hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

“[Your Name],” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand firmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he smirked, leaning in closer, the intoxicating scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

“Depends on your definition of good,” you shot back, your pulse quickening.

He chuckled softly, clearly intrigued. “You’re not like the others…I like that.”

“Keep your distance, Aretas,” you warned, your voice low and steady, but the chemistry between you was undeniable.

“Why would I do that when I’m enjoying this conversation?” he replied, his gaze piercing through you.

“Because this isn’t a game you want to play,” you said, your heart racing at the thrill of the chase.

“Oh, I think it is. And I always win,” he whispered, his voice dripping with confidence.

“So I heard that you're looking for me, Detective [Last Name]” he smirked, eyeing you up and down. His eyes remained on your ass.

You swatted his hand out of the way, and narrowed your gaze. “My eyes are up here, you're gonna come in with me. I'll arrest you and this case will be over..”

Armando smirked at you, snatching your gun that was attached to your belt. Your fist connects with his cheek as blood spills from his chin, he spits it out on the floor.

“I guess it's not over yet..” He smirked, stepping closer to you.

You were supposed to leave, you wanted to cuff him and take him into your car. But you couldn't, the heat between your thighs made you stifle a moan.

“Was all this chasing after you, a trick to get me all to yourself Armando?” you asked seductively, smirking.

Armando's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Maybe it was, detective. Maybe I wanted to see just how far you'd go to catch me." His hand trailed down your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

You fought against the growing heat in your body, reminding yourself of the mission at hand. But the magnetic pull between you and Armando was undeniable. The danger only added to the thrill, fueling the fire that burned between you.

As his lips brushed against your neck, your resolve wavered. "We can't do this," you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Armando chuckled darkly, his hand on your waist. Pulling your face closer to his, when he wanted something or someone, a desideratum for him.

He only did this just to get closer to you, he planned everything just to see your pretty face again. The

But this mission left you fuddled and to save face, you kept your cool instead of admitting it. Did he want you?

"Who says we can't mix business with pleasure, detective?" His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a hunger you couldn't deny.

In a haze of desire and adrenaline, you found yourself giving in to the temptation. Crashing his lips into yours, tongues turned in sync. You moaned in the kiss, and he led you to the car.

Next thing you know, you were under him on his bed and kissing him sloppily. Both of your clothes were littered across the bedroom floor, the soft smack of your lips colliding with his filled the room.

His naked body against yours from the front with glossy sweat, his hips thrusting into you without mercy, as if it was a vindictive yet almost loving type of fuck. His tongue glided across your neck, wanting to leave hickeys on you.

The moonlight peeked through the curtains, and shone on your brown skin. Your brown braids pool around your pretty face, your mouth agape only to let out loud drunk moans and slurred screams.

There you were, fucking your enemy in the dark. Thankful that he couldn't see your face twist up in pleasure, “I bet you look so pretty taking every inch of my dick mami..like a good slut,” he praised, cutting himself off with a raspy moan.

Your hand rested on the back of his neck, bringing him for another sloppy kiss. Leaving a chain of spit between your lips and his, “That dick is so good…” you mumbled, your head fell to the pillow.

Your slick pussy gripped around his dick tight, feeling his inch after inch.

“Oh..fuck! Armando!” You cried out, your vision blurred with tears rolling down your watery cheeks. Teeth trapped under your lips only to be sucked off by Armando, moaning muffled with each kiss. Your tears turned him on quickly.

His head ducked and halted between your titties, wrapping his warm mouth around your nipple. Thighs smacking against your ass, the sound similar to clapping, wetness enveloped his thick dick entirely, Suckling it roughly while pinching your left nipple, “Fuckk! M-more,” you croaked.

Balling your hand in the blanket you turned into a wet, blubbering mess underneath the male. “I’m yours now? So fucking wet..” he grunted deeply, you whimperrd in response. His hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you in for a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’re mine papi, all mine..” you moaned loudly, drooling trickling at the corner of your lip. Unable to speak from the pleasure.

This was better than you imagined, your guts being rearranged by the man you loathed so much but he was here with you. His hand smacked across your ass, you whined lowly. “Fuck!”

“Being inside you is a dream true, suck a good girl..” he groaned, rutting against you without mercy.

Your climax hit you rapidly like a tsunami crashing through without warming, your sticky essence gushed down on his dick and you screamed loudly, falling on the blanket.

He followed suit by pulling out of you, falling beside your body and kissing your shoulder. You panted heavily through it.

“T-this can't happen again..” you murmured raspily, shaking your head. trying to confess to yourself that this was a one-time thing.

Armando hummed lightly with a soft chuckle, “Are you sure about that? You did say that I'm yours..” he panted lowly.

You almost dozed off until he gently picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bathroom as he flipped the light switch. He turned the faucet, you heard the squeak.

Filling the tub with foam soap, at the right temperature, You were placed in the tub, allowing the water to soothe the ache in your body and pussy, sighing blissfully. You watched him walk into the shower and proceed to wash himself clean.

You washed yourself clean from the weight of the day, you fell asleep in his bed with him. Beside his body, dressed in your clean panties and gray tee shirt.

As the sun began to rise, casting golden hues through the window, you made a silent vow to yourself. You left quickly with everything you had, keeping this a secret.

You had to keep a distance, but the memory of that night with Armando would linger, a dangerous secret that bound you together in ways you never thought possible.

The next day, you returned home and sat in your desk chair in front of your computer. Quiet as a church mouse, which made everyone worry about. It wasn't normal for you to be quiet from their perspective.

Marcus and Mike knocked on your door, the sound tore your attention from the computer. You jumped from the sound, placing a hand on your chest.

“Come in!” you called out, seeing the pair through the office window.

They stepped inside, concern etched on their faces. Mike leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, while Marcus took a seat in the chair opposite you.

“Hey, you alright?” Mike asked, his tone softer than usual. “You’ve been unusually quiet since yesterday.”

You flashed a tight smile, the memory of last night flooding your mind. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing you. “A lot, huh? Or should we be concerned about that ‘solo mission’ you took on?”

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “It was just a quick check-in. Nothing major.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “You guys know I can handle myself. I’m not a rookie.”

“True, but it’s not just about handling yourself,” Marcus interjected, his voice serious. “It’s about the risks involved. Armando Aretas is dangerous.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms defensively. “He got away.”

“He did?” Mike asked you, raising a brow.

“Yeah, he was too fast and strong.” you added softly, looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, guess this case is closed huh?” Marcus asked, pursing his lips.

You nodded your head slowly, “Yes, and let’s just get to normal. What’s the melody to Bad Boys song? Bad boys, Bad Bo—” you sang playfully until Mike and Marcus interjected.

“Hey, hey, hey get your own theme song and learn the lyrics!” Macurs joked, his face twisted up a bit with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that's our theme song, but you did amazing on this case..” Mike added with a chuckle, smiling at you.

“My bad, thanks for believing in me guys..” you replied with a warm tone.

You gave the men fist bumps, watching them walk out of your office. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, so much for keeping a secret. But it was over and you couldn't see him.

You could afford to blur the lines between business and pleasure, mixing them together was bad enough. You were done, now back to business only.

——————

Part Two.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Friends...for now

Summary: Unable to sleep, you slip out of camp for a breath of fresh air and find Astarion struggling to tend to his wounds.

No matter how many times you toss and turn, sleep continues to elude you. Staring up at the ceiling of your tent, you groan in annoyance at the throbbing sting of the wound in your arm and sit up, checking the bandages. The blood hasn’t soaked through the cloth, so the sting is probably from the medicine Halsin applied earlier to accelerate the healing but it doesn’t make the feeling less annoying. It does make you less worried about your wound, however, so you decide to take the chance and slip out of camp into the quiet still night, breathing in the fresh air.

You relish in the peace and quiet, something that had been hard to come by as of late with how rowdy your companions could be but you would never trade them for the world, you enjoyed their company far too much. Among them all, Astarion in particular had caught your eye, his facade of confidence and sensuality a far too familiar mask, hiding the quiet strength that you respected greatly. The vampire spawn was an enigma, ruby red eyes letting on far more than the honeyed words that dripped from his lips. The way his words always managed to make your heart flutter, the silent gestures of gratitude whenever you helped him that made you giddy, it made you feel like a teenager hopelessly in love.

Maybe you were in love with him.

You shake your head, dismissing the thought. What Astarion needed right now was a friend, not a lover. He needed to know that people could care without wanting anything in return, that there could be intimacy in non-sexual acts, and that he could be his own person.

Once your hear is cleared, you head to your favourite spot to get away from the hustle and bustle of the camp, only to find a certain someone already sitting there.

“Oh, hello there darling. Come to see me? I’m touched, really.”

“You’re in my spot,” you snort, making your way over. “How’s your back wound?”

“What back wound?” He smiles.

“The one that’s dripping blood all over my favourite spot?”

“Ah, that one. You have to be more specific next time dear. It’ll heal in time, don’t you worry your sweet self.”

“Let me help you with it.” You take the medical supplies hiding behind the rock the both of you are leaning on and start preparing the materials you need. Astarion stares, first at the medical supplies then up at you when he realises its the exact same supplies he haphazardly stashed away upon hearing your approach.

“I don’t need your help,” he hisses. “I can take care of myself.”

“It’s poisoned, you’ll need more than this to get rid of the poison.” You take a couple of herbs out. “Halsin said to ground these into a paste and then apply the paste to the wound before bandaging it.”

Astarion scowls, glaring at the leaves sitting in your open palm. Of course the druid would go around poking his nose into other’s businesses. He tentatively reaches for the leaves, then pulls back when he realises he has no idea how to ground them into paste. You then pull out a mortar and pestel and start grinding the herbs while he watches quietly, observing your every move. Once the herbs have been sufficiently ground, you slide the mortar over to him.

“There, all done. Next time you want to use this spot, just let me know in advance alright? Then I’ll know not to disturb you.” You grin, pushing yourself to your feet. “See you back in camp.”

With that you turn to leave, but his next words stop you in your tracks.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You turn around.

“Could…could you help me treat the wound. I can’t exactly see where it is,” he admits nervously. He’s still uncertain about letting you touch his back like that, but you’ve never meant him any harm, he could let you see him all exposed, right?

“Sure.” You seat yourself next to him and he turns around, the moonlight casting a glow on his scars. This is the first time you’ve been able to properly see them, the markings permanently etched into his pale skin and your own back throbs at the thought of the pain he must have gone through.

“I’m going to wash the wound first then apply the paste, alright?”

He nods wordlessly, biting down on his lip when the pain flares up once more the moment water contacts the wound. You murmur an apology before gently applying the paste on the wound that is quickly turning an ugly green. You feel him flinch as your finger makes contact with his back, a small trembling in his shoulders and pause, unsure if you should continue. You could just leave the wound like this, the paste would work its magic, removing the poison while his vampiric healing took care of what remained. A bandage was more a precaution to ensure the wound didn’t get infected, but if he was going to remain here for the rest of the night he wouldn’t risk an infection.

“Do you want me to continue? I could just leave the wound as it is right now and it’ll heal.” You voice is gentle, soft, not like the rough and grating tone Cazador speaks in.

“Continue. Please.” He whispers the last part but you hear him all the same. A small smile flicks across your face at the trust he’s putting in you and you continue, bandaging the wound neatly. He remains as still as possible while you work, with the occasional flinch when you accidentally pull the cloth a little too tightly but a quick apology soothes everything over and soon you’re done.

“There. All done.” You pack the remaining supplies as he pulls his shirt back on, turning around to face you.

“Thank you.” He inclines his head. You smile in response, “welcome!”

He sits there in silence for a while, unsure of what else to say. He wants to express more than gratitude, to tell you that you’re the first person he’s ever let touch his back, his scars, that he’s been afraid of letting anyone near him, fearing that they will hurt him, that you’re so many of his firsts, and yet words elude him, lost to the night’s breeze.

It’s only when you check on your own wound that he finds something to say.

“Would you like me to kiss it better?”

You laugh, the melody carrying through the crisp night air. “Why thank you for the offer, Astarion, I am rather tempted to accept it but alas, the doubt that kissing it wouldn’t help in the slightest has overtaken the temptation.”

“You wouldn’t know unless you tried, love. What is there to lose?” he smirks, back in familiar territory.

“My dignity perhaps?” You chuckle.

“There’s no one else around, only you and me. No one will know but us, it’ll be our little secret.” He leans in closer and winces at the twinge of pain from his back.

“Don’t strain it,” you frown, concerned. It’s when you look at him with that look in his eyes that his undead heart skips a beat and all he can think about is how much you care for him without wanting anything in return. You lavish both time and energy onto him, far more than the others and yet you’ve never asked a favour of him. He keeps trying to pry your ulterior motive from you but nothing ever gets revealed, meaning you have none, which only makes him even more confused.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Why do you concern yourself with me so much? What is it you want from me?”

“Hm? What I want from you? Nothing, honest! You’re my friend, it’s only natural I should care for your wellbeing.” Friend, nothing more.

Friend, a foreign word to him. He’s never considered anyone anything more than a tool, a way to protect himself and everyone has done the same to him, using him for their own gains, their own purposes. Yet here you are, shattering everything he’s been used to and showing him something he never once considered. Maybe having a friend wasn’t so bad, it meant he could do things he never could’ve done alone, it meant feeling a little less alone in the whisper of the night. Most of all, it meant he could spend more time with you, listen to your voice, have you all to himself.

“Hmph,” is all he says out loud and the two of you continue to sit in silence, watching as the moon bathes your surroundings in its silvery light.

Friends for now, perhaps something more in the future.

[for-some-reason]

🍃 with Bakugo Katsuki

warning: reader is smoking weed with bakugo, and reader is a lightweight/not as experienced. underage smoking. reader finds bakugo hot and thinks it a few times, dont know if that counts as suggestive.

Bakugo Katsuki was an enigma. He went to sleep no later than 8PM every night, was ranked third in your class, and although a bit reluctantly, he helped you and your friends study. He seemed to be a model student in that aspect, but then he didn’t follow the dress code, spoke rudely and harshly, and somehow got into trouble with teachers and staff more than anybody you knew.

You couldn’t really figure him out. The line he drew between okay and not-okay seemed to be zig-zagged, there wasn’t a clear cut to anything as if he made it up as he went.

So to say you were shocked when he was alright with smoking weed was an understatement. He didn’t even drink.

“The hell are you starin’ at me for?” His voice brings you out of your own head, and you watch as he brings the joint— that he fucking rolled— to his lips and takes a drag. He sucks in deeply, the tip of the joint burning red, and after holding it in for a few seconds he lets it out. A big cloud of smoke hits you as he coughs a bit. “Ah, fuck— too much.”

“When did you start smoking? What the fuck.” You ask, still wildly confused.

You had just been hanging out in his dorm when he decided to take a secret stash of weed out along with his grinder and rolling papers. You hated to admit it, but watching him work had been attractive. You could tell he wasn’t new to this, definitely having been doing it longer than you, with how he worked. It was quick and practiced— the signs of a regular smoker.

“Does it fucking matter? Here.” He passes over the joint and you take it.

Bringing the joint to your lips, you also take much more than you could handle and start coughing harshly.

He laughs, like the dickhead he is, but grabs a water bottle and hands it to you. “You a fuckin’ newbie or what?”

“Shit— no. It’s just been awhile, okay? Ugh,” You take another pull, a little less than before to avoid hacking your lungs out, and then pass the joint back to Bakugo. “Now, seriously, how the fuck didn’t I know this?”

You’ve always been a bit of a lightweight, with your opportunities to smoke being so few and far between, so you start to feel your vision getting hazy already.

Bakugo grumbles and takes a pull before opening his mouth again. “I don’t fuckin’ know, I think it was late second year. Soy Sauce face, that dumbass pothead, gave me some. It’s not somethin’ I go shouting on rooftops. I like my damn privacy.”

Another pull and then he passes it to you.

“Huh. I mean, I get it. So why tell me now?”

“Why the fuck not? I just felt like it. And you’re always talkin’ about how much you wanna smoke with the other guys, so I knew you’d be chill.”

“Right..” You answer a bit breathily. You smile and hand Bakugo the joint again. It’s almost done by now and he has to relight it.

You’re laser-focused on his lips as he takes a long pull from the joint again.

You realize you’re definitely high by now as you watch the smoke blow out of his mouth. Fuck, he’s really attractive.

You finally look back up and his eyes are staring right back at you.

“You’re already this damn high?” He smirks. You want to kiss the smirk off his stupid face.

Maybe getting high with Bakugo wasn’t the best idea. Can he hear your thoughts? What if you’re speaking out loud? Is this a dream? You want to reach out and touch him.

“..What?” You ask, remembering he spoke to you.

“Huh?”

“What.. did you say?”

“I haven’t said anything in a few damn minutes, you damn lightweight.”

You giggle. Yeah, you’re fucking baked. “Is that right?”

“Ugh, I can tell you’re gonna be annoying. You can lay on my bed. You look tired as shit.”

“Thank you.. Bakugo.. I’ll do that.”

You slowly make your way to his bed and lay down. You can feel yourself sinking into the mattress, it’s so comfortable. You turn to look at Bakugo sitting at his desk still.

“It was nice smoking with you. I’ll… try not to be a lightweight next time..”

He mutters something to himself, and you think you hear a goodnight before you close your eyes, easily drifting into a dream.

[aclowntiny]

The Other Members Catch You Two Together- Seventeen

Returning this post fixed & breakdown free 🤙🏻 Warnings: 🤏🏻 suggestive at times, lil language, very minor injury mention

S.Coups

♡ "You have to be more careful, ok?" "I wasn't exactly trying to fall and skin my knee," you giggled at your boyfriend's mother-hen chastising.

♡ Usually you were just as caring, having fawned over other Seventeen members enough times that some of them shot jokingly suggestive glances to Seungcheol about you, not knowing he was already your boyfriend and they had the step-parent they all seemed to desire.

♡ Shaking his head, Seungcheol peeled the little protective tabs off the bandage and stuck it gently to your knee, giving it a cute little pat to stay down.

♡ “Thank you, doctor,” you teased from the counter he’d set you on, looking down at him from your boosted height with fluttering lashes. “Anytime, love. Just be careful, ok?” He asked, hands sliding to your sides. “Ok,” you agreed, a pleasant shiver running up your body, “but I must admit I like my doctor a lot.” “Your doctor likes you,” your boyfriend smiled, pulling you closer by your waist into a lean and pressing his lips to yours.

♡ “Hey, Coups, where’s the- whoa! Seungcheol! (y/n)!” The voice of mock-scandal echoing through the open air of the restroom belonged to Jeonghan, who remained in the doorway smirking at you two. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” “Oh, great, that’s kind of-” “I won’t tell if…” “One moment,” your boyfriend squeezed your hand before pulling his bandmate aside, gaze intense.

Jeonghan

♡ "Come on, lazy bones! Get up!" Usually, you were the only one who had much convincing power over Jeonghan. Some of the other members had their suspicions on that, most of them shrugged and accepted Jeonghan for the enigma he was.

♡ Today, though, that power seemed to be waning, as your boyfriend just shook his head, shimmying deeper into the couch cushions if that was possible. All you wanted was to take him on a little outing, but you knew how he got. Shaking your head, you just gave him an exasperated smile and eyeroll. "Alright, if that's how it's going to be..."

♡ You plopped gently on top of him, rolling your eyes again at his smile of victory as his arms wrapped around you. "...then I'm going to squish you!" "Squish away," Jeonghan replied simply, rubbing his cheek lightly against yours. Like it or not, that man was your favorite pillow, your weakness as much as everybody else's, and you caved against his touch instantly, body relaxing atop his warmth.

♡ Sliding his cheeks over a bit, he pressed his lips to yours, pecking you multiple times until you took hold of the back of his head, keeping him still for a real kiss. Because you knew if you were going to up the ante, so was he, and this time was no exception: your slow, sweet kiss quickly turned into parted lips, Jeonghan's tongue darting lightly between them as his hands slid up and down your back. Both of you were smiling into the newfound makeout session, your legs melting down to start wrapping around him...

♡ "Oh my God! Alright, leaving the room, LEAVING!" Jolting upright, you peeked over the back of the couch to see Seungkwan scurrying like a chased mouse back out of the living room, hand clapped over his eyes to avoid even one more look at his roommate. You couldn't help laughing, but you still asked Jeonghan if he should go talk to him. "Hmmm," he pretended to think, tapping his head before slinking his hands about your waist again, "maybe later."

Joshua

♡ You leaned against the side of the bed like a lovestruck cartoon teen as Joshua strummed his guitar, shooting those same heart eyes back to you. All of Seventeen knew you as his good friend, and you guys had yet to break the news that your connection went beyond that. The time to yourselves, though, was absolute bliss.

♡ "Alright, enough practice, I have a song just for you," Joshua spoke softly, strumming momentarily paused as he further captured your attention. Soon, sweet notes started up again, this time accompanied by Joshua's heavenly voice.

♡ It had been a while since you two got time together like that, and maybe Joshua was feeling it too, as he sang you Ed Sheeran's Photograph. Corny, sure, but you didn't care for one moment as he sang about love captured in pictures, keeping him forever close to you in the pocket of your jeans or in a locket by your heart.

♡ "I love you," you whispered as he finished the song, your head spinning and heart swelling with all the sweet words from his lips and stares from his beautiful brown eyes. "I love you, too," he replies, voice still soft as he sets his guitar on the bed, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

♡ "That's so sweet!" Both of you shifted back, jumping to face the doorway where Jun stood, fake sobbing. "I think I might cry." Relief flooded Joshua's expression as he shook his head, but Jun immediately swore secrecy. "You're the best." "Anything for my cute lovebirds!" "He's going to call us that forever, isn't he?"

Jun

♡ You bring out Jun's silly side for sure, but nobody questions your playful behavior as much more than friendship. At least most of the time...

♡ Enamored is the only word you could think of to describe how much you love your new outfit. It fits like a glove, embodies your style, you name it, it has it. You love it so much, in fact, Jun decides it's photoshoot time.

♡ So there he is, bent over at a ridiculous angle because he insists that's how the photographers do it and laughing because you can't take him seriously, striking hilarious over-the-top poses in response. "There we go! Work it, (y/n)!" Jun jokes back, beaming as he takes the opportunity to capture plenty of silly photos of the one he loves most.

♡ It is in the midst of the sweet moment of joy for Jun that Seokmin walks up, giggling at the praise and calls of 'work it' coming from his hyung. "You like (y/n), don't you? That's so cute!" Jun tries not to freeze too hard, fails, glances at you as you exchange a nod.

♡ "It's not just that he likes me," you answer Seokmin with a grin and another pose, this one with a heart, "he's dating me!" The way the singer's jaw dropped was hilarious enough you wish Jun had turned the camera on him to capture it before it melted into a smile, Jun and you getting scooped up in a celebratory hug.

Hoshi

♡ You’re the one more concerned about keeping it from the guys, worried how they would react to you being more than friends with one of the large friend group.

♡ Soonyoung however? Respects you but doesn’t personally give a shit, so pushing the boundaries is fun for him. He just wants to climb a mountain and scream to the world how he feels about you!

♡ Instead of a mountain, though, his climb is into bed with you after a night spent with the guys. Kicking his shoes off, Soonyoung gleefully slides under the sheets of the bed you recline in, laying on his side to face you as close as humanly possible. "Soonyoung, what if someone sees?" You ask between giggles as he pulls you into him. "Is that really so bad? I'm used to the teasing and I can give it right back. Besides, Chan'll do something that has them back to teasing him in no time." Leaning the mere centimeters it takes to close the gap, Soonyoung captures your lips in a short but deep kiss that has your tired heart doing gymnastics. Your eyes soften and he kisses you again and again until all your spinning head can do is agree. "Alright, maybe we should tell them."

♡ The problem here? In the morning, Wonwoo, having passed by that very room after you'd left it, spotted Soonyoung's kicked-off shoes and socks piled suspiciously near your own outerwear, clearly has the wrong impression. It all starts to dawn on you as he avoids your eyes, laughs to himself. You kick Soonyoung under the table, nod Wonwoo's way.

♡ "Uh, Wonwoo? Can I talk to you for a second?" Soonyoung looks to you for approval, and though mentally you're smacking your forehead you just nod him off from your adjacent seat. You can still hear faint traces of the conversation around the corner, yours and Soonyoung's chairs having been nearest the doorway, chuckling as you catch your boyfriend calling his bandmate a pervert before shuffling around the corner with him again, Wonwoo shaking his head as Soonyoung gives you a thumbs-up.

Wonwoo

♡ Private in general, Wonwoo doesn’t struggle to hide his relationship with you and just keep it between you and him. He isn’t crazy for PDA or anything, so you two easily pass as very close friends.

♡ However, you guys got a little too comfortable once and that was your downfall. It all started when you bust out a silly little war simulator game from your childhood, challenging your boyfriend to a round or two which he gladly accepted.

♡ It played on a handheld console, so you two could just sit together and pass the switch at the end of your turn. You started the match at each other’s side, sneaking glances at Wonwoo’s activity as he teasingly held the screen up from you.

♡ Subconsciously, though, you drew closer, knees brushing, thighs overlapping and arms flush, until without even realizing you’d done it you’d made your way into Wonwoo’s lap, your boyfriend opening his posture a bit to hold you more comfortably like the puzzle pieces your bodies were. You played like that with no thoughts save for strategizing about how to advance your units and hints of distraction at the sensation of your back against Wonwoo’s chest.

♡ Thank the stars above, it was Minghao who found you like that, stopping after a small double-take to lean against the doorframe, arms crossed in teasing satisfaction as he nodded your way. "So, when did this happen, hm?"

Woozi

♡ Neither of you were exactly all over each other, so in your minds this was a secret you could practically keep forever if you wanted to.  The special treatment you gave Jihoon was so subtle the guys didn’t really pick up on it, which was part of what made it so fun!

♡ Having an intelligent, practical boyfriend, after all, it wasn’t out of the question that his ideas simply were just frequently good enough for you to agree with.  And it if was a music question?  They already trusted his decision without you liking his version better.  The fact that you wore his favorite color a lot and always seemed to bring by his favorite snacks just went over their heads when they were asking you a thousand other questions about arrangements or even whose joke was better.

♡ Your downfall happened the day you were torn on your decision.  Two of Seventeen’s leaders had come to you with varying song opinions, and as you listened to both Jihoon and Seungcheol’s versions, you really liked them both.  One definitely had a more subtle approach, but did that suit the song’s nature?  After a bit of convincing, you still went with Jihoon’s version, much to Seungcheol’s teasing as he left the studio to get a drink.

♡ “You almost betrayed me!”  Jihoon teased you as you jokingly sidled to his chair.  “His version was good,” you protested, “I had to be honest!  Besides, can’t make it too obvious how much I favor you, right?”  “Fair enough,” Jihoon replied with a small smile, reaching up from his seat to cup your cheek, pulling your lips into his.

♡ A few crackling thuds snapped you out of your warm reverie, the feeling of his soft touch.  Jumping back, you saw Seungcheol standing in the doorway, open hand having clearly dropped his water bottle.  Still sealed, luckily.  Slowly, a devilish knowing smile spread across his face.  “Oh my God.  That makes so much sense, actually.”

DK

♡ Seventeen is confused as all getout watching you two interact because they’re just besties right??? Wait they totally like each other???

♡ You and Seokmin are very close, obviously. He’s always shooting you hearts and you’re always bringing him along on snack runs and laughing uncontrollably over some stupid joke you two made. It definitely comes across as potentially flirty…

♡…probably because you guys have been dating for two whole months without having any direct conversations about it, all the other members too confused by the dynamic to directly ask if the shift they’ve perceived has actually occurred. You guys are shy enough not to kiss in front of the members and show off all the affection Seokmin loves showering you with when it’s just you two.

♡ So by the time you’ve just assumed everyone knew, it’s when that PDA comfort has had a natural unspoken increase and what’s it to you guys or anyone around you if Seokmin puts his arm around you as you sit on the couch, looking at you with the adoring eyes that were nothing new.

♡ “Look guys, look! See, I told you! I knew it!” Gaze swiveling to the other side of the room, you and Seokmin catch Mingyu’s frantic exclamations as he points your way, drawing the equally energetic Soonyoung to laugh and shout too. “You didn’t know?” Seokmin just asks, smiling widely as his protective grip proudly tightens a bit, bringing a wider smile to your own lips at the warmth. “How could we? You two are so confusing!” Soonyoung shoots back. “I dunno,” you shrug, eyes falling back to meet your boyfriend’s with your own glint of pride, “makes sense to me.”

Mingyu

♡ “Here, let me help you.” “Mingyu, I’m washing my hands!” You giggle. “Oh, all right.” The bug had gotten into your head about baking and Mingyu finally caved when you’d been shopping together and found the cutest sprinkles to go with your sugar cookie recipe.

♡ Sticky dough coats your hands and connects your fingers before you put them under the warm running water, feeling the chunks break up and float away from your skin. The cookies are all in the oven now. “Now what should we do while we wait?”

♡ “I can think of a few things,” Mingyu replies mischievously and without hesitation, stepping behind you to snake his arms around your waist. “Honey,” you use the nickname that always makes his beautifully matching skin blush, “aren’t the rest of the guys coming back here?” You are in your boyfriend’s dorms, after all.

♡ “Not for a bit unless anyone’s planning on being early. Knowing Seventeen, not likely,” he says, “so what do you say?” Before you can respond he’s scooping you up in his arms and any protest rising to your lips falls off in favor of a happy squeak as you’re set gingerly upon a clean section of the counter. Your gaze is just about even with Mingyu’s as your hands find his shoulders, his firmly holding your hips as he leans in for a kiss. Giving in as you so often did, you deepened it almost immediately, moving faster before you feel his tongue slide its way between your lips-

♡ “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll come back later.” The warmth of Mingyu’s hands leaves your hips as he steps back, chastising mutters immediately leaving his lips. Your eyes fly back open to see poor (and very flustered-looking) Joshua getting chased out of the kitchen by your boyfriend, him whining about the gentleman’s punctuality all the while. Hopping off the counter, you can’t help but chuckle and check the cookies with a fond shake of your head. You knew what you were getting into all along.

The8

♡ oh you KNOW y’all are pros at hiding it you go MONTHS without a hint of suspicion 😌

♡ It literally takes a moment of fate to orchestrate the downfall of your secrecy, all the stars aligning perfectly and imperfectly for one outing.

♡ The two if you had gone to peruse a pop-up gallery while it was in your neck of the woods, taking a stroll through the small room of sculptures brought in for the event. The theme was the sea, many of the pieces perfectly capturing crashing waves, breaching whales, the beautiful glistening arcs and fascinations of earth’s mysterious water.

♡ Never would you have expected to run into any of the guys there until you heard the voices behind you. “This one’s cool, I love how the- hey, wait, isn’t that Minghao and (y/n)?” Minghao wanted to keep moving, but the second voice agreed and at that point you turned around, recognizing them easily as Soonyoung and Jihoon.

♡ “I didn’t know you guys hung out just the two of you!” “Soonyoung,” Jihoon hissed as he elbowed him, “he probably asked (y/n) on a date.” “Why would you assume this is a date?” Minghao shot back. “The way (y/n) was holding your arm,” Soonyoung shrugged before leaning in, challenge glinting in his eyes, “but if it’s not, you’ll be fine if we come with.” Glancing surreptitiously between him and you, Minghao finally sighs. “All right, fine, it’s a date. We’ve been together for almost six months.” “SIX MONTHS? I didn’t even know you liked each other!” Minghao and you can’t help exchanging smirks at that, and you feel his hip bump yours playfully.

Seungkwan

♡ “There’s a little private corner just for us!” You and Seventeen were on a trip, so naturally with such a number of people you guys were staying in a huge-ass house. Unpacking was going to take a while, but hey, who’d miss two out of fourteen people, right? Having scoped out the house, you ran off with Seungkwan down the hall to the furthest spare room.

♡ It was maybe intended as a child or teenager’s room, one corner occupied largely by a massive pile of cushions nearly the size of beanbags. Well, you could work with that. “What’s this?” “It looks comfortable,” you shot back, pulling Seungkwan closer, “doesn’t it?”

♡ The moment he relented you tumbled into the pile and he joined you, giggling and taking hold of each other for stability. That didn’t last long, though, Seungkwan rolling ever-so-slightly on top of you…

♡ Heat radiated from the press of his body to yours, the warm feeling drawing you in like a lifeline until you tugged him forward by his button-up collar, your lips on his. He responded almost immediately, adding to the electricity sparked between you as his arms fell about your waist. Your plush haven, the feeling of Seungkwan’s lips sliding gently over yours, all of it was heaven…

♡…Heaven broken by a scream that had you heaving up into a seated position, Seungkwan himself scrambling off of you to face the doorway, where Chan stood going off like a siren. “Oh God, my eyes! What the hell, you guys! Ugh!” Like a call to action Chan’s shouts drew member after member toward the room to see what was wrong, the maknae spilling the beans anew. Well, so much for who’d catch two out of fourteen.

Vernon

♡ You guys are just grabbing ice cream nbd

♡ Not even super datelike of an activity for someone to catch you guys in honestly because y'all aren't that sappy of a couple. Vernon and you just wanted ice cream, so of course he was gonna treat you!

♡ As if y’all are living in a drama your ice cream developed a mind of its own, completely missing its trajectory as you raised the cone to your lips, a cold vanilla-base droplet spotting your cheek. “Do you have a napkin?” You ask Vernon, letting go of his hoodie edge and extending the newly emptied hand, but his eyes are fixed on the little drip. “Nah,” he chuckled teasingly, pressing his lips to your cheek and bringing a flush to them as you feel his tongue swipe the ice cream off gently beneath the kiss.

♡ “Uhhh, that’s not usually how you get ice cream off of your friends,” jokes a clearly awkward voice at your backs. Turning, you’re faced with Jun and Jeonghan, cones in hand and wince on face in Jun’s case.

♡ “Come on Jun, I told you Hansol was into (y/n) ever since he magically got into Animal Crossing,” Jeonghan shot back, arms crossed, “I’ve never seen him throw himself into anything faster.” He turned his proud gaze back to you guys. “So, what’ll you do to keep this a secret, huh?” For that, Jun elbowed him.

Dino

♡ Chan is DEAD SET on keeping things between you two for at least a little while and you’re not offended because you know the sole reason has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the relentless teasing of his hyungs.

♡ So when you guys get together for a private dance lesson, Chan just plays it off as needing the space to film a danceology.

♡ Instead he’s teaching you how to count steps, the most comfortable way to hold onto him- which you certainly didn’t feign a lack of understanding in to get to touch him that much more. Any wishes in that department, however, are soon granted once music fills the little studio.

♡ Chan is at your back, doing your steps with you as if he had the follow’s feet, gripping first your arms to steady you and then shamelessly sliding down to your waist. Turning your head sideways, you feel the warmth of his breath, take it in yourself as your lips hit his, receiving a forceful response the moment they connect. Before you’ve even begun dancing Chan is spinning you in his arms, this time so you could face him as he tilts your chin up, leans in hungrily for another kiss that you gladly give him, your hips flush against his…

♡ “Oh, I see why you wanted the room.” You step back, using the hands you’d placed on his chest to practically shove Chan off of you, though his hand instinctively took yours, keeping you only the bare minimum below your flush proximity. Vernon is standing there with smug amusement all over his face, corner of his mouth rising further as he glances between you two. “Whoa, it’s not like that!” You protest, heat blooming beneath your own features. “Really? I kind of thought it was.” “Chan! You are not helping our case right now.”

[n0tamused]

Hi. Is it alright to request fluff with Dr.Ratio and a blind s/o who is a genius musician in modern au? Thank u!

A/n: Hello! I hope this is what you had in mind when you requested this, I feel like I got something wrong lol please enjoy!

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN! Genius! Reader, can be read normal au - can be read as modern au, tinge of angst at the end if you squint

-It wasn't a rare story to hear, the blind genius that plucks cords and presses keys better than any musicians has up to date. Yet, with all that renown and reputation, you remained an enigma among the masses

-How did you do it? Why? When did you become a part of the genius society even? What did Nous see in you? Was it just a taste for music?

-You always walked around with some string instrument in hand, plucking the strings quietly and softly - making people believe those were your eyes, you saw using music. And perhaps they wouldn't be too wrong to believe that. Maybe you just had great hearing?

-But were you not a genius you wouldn't be a part of the Genius Society. That's for sure, and it goes for the way you deal with everyday struggles and issues.

-He was just a renowned professor, known for his hardwork and strictness.

-Dr. Ratio refused to be impressed until he met you for himself, withholding his judgment for later. 

-Getting an audience with you seemed impossible, you kept to yourself and kept yourself busy with your own work and research, and from time to time you’d take in some orchestra on your planet. Music was your way into the world, music was your eyes, your nose and your taste all in one, it was your language and something that you kept dear and near.

-It wasn’t surprising to know that your main field of research was of auditory nature, different species hear differently, but what about the creatures and organisms humans can’t naturally hear, do they make noise too? Water is known to hold feelings in some capacity, and different tunes being played to the water before being frozen impact its structure at the end.

-It is a magical sort of research, but you know there is no magic involved at all. Just natural reactions.

-Dr. Ratio was impressed to say the least after he witnessed you play the instrument, one of rare instances that you accepted into being on stage yourself, a performer instead of the spectator. You possessed a good ear and a better hand, everyone fell in love and was in awe with the sounds produced.

-Afterwards, Dr. Ratio tried his best to hunt down a private audience with you, he had many questions regarding your research and your character overall. He wished to understand, to know.

-Yet all he could do was watch, always so close yet so far, you always remained just out of the hand’s reach. Somehow you evaded him.

-For all your lack of eyesight, you knew the best route to avoid him, he had to ask whether it was intentional or not. Was this also some extension of Nous, the aeon that neglected his presence entirely?

-He ended up sending a formal invitation for a talk to you in the end, directly to you, and at long last you accepted. 

-Dr.Ratio never felt so nervous. He stood in his room, getting ready for this outing and eternally he questioned himself, his state of mind, why was it all cluttered, why were his palms sweaty and why could he just not think straight.

-All those came to an ease once he neared the meeting point, hearing the familiar melody of the strings your fingertips so diligently pulled. His heart swelled with relief, and for a moment he didn’t have the heart to speak up, not wishing for the tune to end. Dr. Ratio had an eye for art himself, and you were the new masterpiece he found, you and your art. 

-He dares say he loves listening to you play, it makes him wish to go back to his own instruments that are gathering dust at home, he wonders if you’d let him join you in a duet once, perhaps? Perhaps not? He is not a Genius, but a Mundanite, and you were everything but average.

-Perhaps one day it could be you to answer his eternal question. 

-Maybe one day he will be able to feel a fraction of a genius as you. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[blingblong55]

More than this- John "Soap" MacTavish NSFW

Based on a request: I hope it is okay with you and not boring cause the majority of inspiration/ideas I have are from songs :3 Can I request Playboy!Soap who's trying to get it with Reader (without realising Reader's a player too). After many relentless persuasion, reader's decided 'fuck it, lets go then'. once the deed is done, reader dipped and left soap in surprise (cause soap caught feelings for reader by the end). thank you! :) (song inspired: https://youtu.be/55h_ugXqTq0?si=tANMojqXlQeNomdl) ---- F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, smut, player!Soap, player!reader, fingering, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, anal!sex ---- A/N: the song is so good and the request also reminded me of Niall Horan's "Nice to meet ya" so...I got inspired by both :)

Soap had always been the charismatic one in the squad, his Scottish brogue and cheeky grin making him a favourite among the ranks and a magnet for attention. His real name was John MacTavish, but no one called him that. Soap was known for his effortless charm and his reputation as a playboy, never failing to have a woman on his arm during leave. He enjoyed the game, the chase, and the thrill of never getting too attached.

He first noticed you during a mission briefing. You were new to the unit, sharp-eyed and focused, with a calm confidence that intrigued him. From the start, Soap found himself captivated. Unlike others, you didn’t fall for his usual lines and smooth talk. Your responses were always polite but distant, leaving him wanting more.

Over the next few months, Soap made it his mission to win you over. He flirted relentlessly, invited you for drinks, and found excuses to be near you during training exercises. You, however, were an enigma. You’d laugh at his jokes, andengage in banter, but never gave him the satisfaction of reciprocating his advances.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling day in the field, the squad gathered in the makeshift rec room. Soap, ever the life of the party, was regaling them with a story, his eyes constantly drifting to you, who sat across the room, cleaning your gear. Catching your eye, he grinned and raised his beer.

"Hey, why don’t you join us for a change? You’re always working too hard."

You looked up, your expression unreadable. "Someone has to keep things running smoothly around here, Soap."

"Come on," he coaxed, "just one drink."

After a moment’s hesitation, you shrugged and joined them. The evening wore on, and Soap found himself drawn to you more than ever. As the night wound down and the others began to drift off to their bunks, Soap leaned in closer to you.

"You know, I’ve been trying to get you alone for months," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "And why’s that, Soap?"

"Because you’re different. You don’t fall for my charm like the others. It’s… refreshing."

You laughed softly, the sound surprising him. "Maybe you’re not as charming as you think."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Or maybe you’re just a tough nut to crack."

There was a pause, a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on. Then, with a sigh, you set down your drink and stood. "Alright, Soap. You’ve been persistent enough. Let’s go."

Soap blinked, momentarily stunned. "You mean it?"

You nodded, your eyes challenging. "Yeah. Let’s go."

He followed you to your quarters, his heart pounding with anticipation. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for. You barely made it inside before you were on each other, the pent-up tension exploding into passion. Soap revelled in the intensity, every touch and kiss igniting a fire he hadn’t felt before.

He slowly undressed you, watching as you squirmed with excitement. His strong hand glided over the fabric of the dress, pulling it up until it was above your waist. His grip was unyielding on your hips as he whispered, "Fuck, just look at how wet you are for me, lass.” He pushed two fingers inside, licking his lips with satisfaction. 

His thick calloused fingers pumping into you. Your eyes fluttered shut. The man above you groaned loudly, “That’s what I’m talking about,” he exclaimed. 

You open your eyes, "Soap," you whimper and he smirks. "Fuck," you shut your eyes and hold onto his shirt. That was all he needed to hear, it was the green light. Soap grabbed your hips with both hands and flung you onto the bed as you cried out. With a swift movement, he threw his weight over you and pinned you down as he pulled his cock out of his trousers. In the next moment, he had it positioned at your entrance as he muttered a dark prayer. 

"Soap,  fuck- ahh...n~ngh," a playful smile on your lips as you let out another needy moan. "Fuck, I need more~" you mutter and he smirks. Not much longer, his thrusts grew more intense and he started to thrust faster, harder. He could feel you tensing up, letting out heavy breaths, and waiting for that sweet moment.

Soap grunted "I knew you would beg me once I started." His thrusts became more erratic now; he wanted to feel how sensitive you were, how wildly you craved for him. You felt him rubbing against the spot that made your legs shake. He squeezed your hips harder and thrust faster causing you to cum. 

He pulled out, repositioned you and started to penetrate you anally. "Your sweet ass is mine," he grunted over, “all mine.” A savage smile crossed his lips, hearing how you moaned and panted beneath him. He slapped your ass as he fucked your tight hole. Moans of need and desperation leave your lips and he laughs.

He pushed into you, forceful and deep. He groaned and slammed into you harder, “Perfect.” His pace increased, and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room. His hand reached between you, squeezing your clit as he continued to fuck you. “Come for me, Y/N.”

He felt the heat building up in him and knew the end was near. He was going to fill you up and remind you why you should come back for another round. “You’re such a good girl,” he praised you. Both of you were spiralling now, as he slammed into you one final time, you cried out, and your body convulsed, milking him for every drop of his release. His cock seemed to expand inside you as he came hard. Simultaneously, he threw his head back, growling, feeling an orgasm high. As he finally released into your ass, giving you a hot treat of his cum, you whine and whimper. He collapsed on top of you, panting.

Soap never wanted you to be more than his plaything, but he was rapidly learning he couldn't just have a piece of you—he craved you entirely. He needed all of you. "You’re my pretty slut, lass" he growled, fingers digging into your hips.  

He laid there, closing his eyes as he finally rested, your body next to his and that was all the assurance he needed for the night. 

But when he woke the next morning, you were gone. He sat up, confusion washing over him. Your side of the bed was cold, your gear gone. You’d left without a word.

Soap dressed quickly and headed to the mess hall, scanning the room for you. He found you at a corner table, already immersed in a conversation with another soldier, your demeanour casual as if nothing had happened.

"Hey," he said, approaching you, trying to keep his voice steady.

You looked up, giving him a brief nod. "Morning, Soap."

"Can we talk?"

You shrugged, rising from the table. You stepped outside, the early morning air crisp and cool.

"About last night," he began, searching your face for any sign of regret or emotion. "What happened?"

You met his gaze, your expression calm. "What do you mean? We hooked up. It was fun. But that’s all it was."

He frowned, taken aback by your nonchalance. "Just fun?"

"Yeah, Soap. Just fun," you said, your tone firm. "We’re soldiers. We can’t afford to get attached."

He stared at you, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. He’d pursued you, convinced himself it was just another conquest, but somewhere along the line, he’d caught feelings. And now, looking at you, he realized you were just like him—a player, only better at hiding it.

"Right," he said, forcing a smile. "Just fun."

You nodded, giving him a small smile. "Good. See you around, Soap."

As you walked away, Soap felt a strange emptiness settle in his chest. For the first time, the game hadn’t gone according to plan. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost more than just a fleeting moment of passion. He’d lost the one person who had seen through his façade, only to remind him of his own rules: never get too attached.

But as he watched you disappear into the bustling crowd, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, your story wasn’t quite over yet.

A/N: got so lost with my writing throughout this so I'm sorry if this is all over the place

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