#like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear

[dulcewrites]

Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.” 

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers (plus Micheal) chasing their future s/o and mid chase they trip head first bc of a rock and their s/o just turns around and laughs at them. The slasher just get up and start chasing them again but there s/o can’t stop laughing

I think it’s a funny fic❤️

U don’t have to do this btw

Oh but I want to 😄 unfortunately I couldn't come up with a good scenario for Michael, sorry. If I ever get an idea for it I will add him to thia post

Slashers tripping and falling while chasing their future s/o

Jason Voorhees

Jason is unsure about chasing you, and that’s the only reason why this happens. Usually, when he is *really* determined to kill someone, something like that wouldn’t happen to him; not at Crystal Lake at least, where he knows every stick and stone by heart. He may get his weapon stuck in places, but tripping? No way.

But you… you are different. Really, you don’t seem like his other victims at all. Your only real “crime” is entering his territory in the first place. So yes, Jason isn’t quite as set on killing you. He might even let you get away.

He is debating with himself if sparing you would really be a good idea, when his foot gets caught on a small rock, and he finds himself face first on yet another rock, leaving him with a bloody nose.

You stop and look at him, your cheeks puffed up trying to contain your laugher. But when you try to speak, it just bursts out. Jason, of course, is not pleased, and immediately gets up to continue his pursuit.

Busy laughing as you are, you do not see the rope on the ground, and you quickly find yourself in the same position as Jason, face-first on the ground, with a nosebleed and a bruise on your face.

He catches up to you and you turn around. “I… guess I deserve it now, for laughing at you.” You see the blood dripping from underneath his mask and pull a tissue from your pocket. “Here. Sorry for laughing earlier.”

He hesitates before accepting, and once his bleeding nose is plugged up, he reaches out his hand to pull you to your feet.

Okay, it wasn’t nice of you to laugh at him, but you apologized. And that seals the deal for him; you’re a good one. You don’t have to die.

Vincent Sinclair

He actually trips over his own equipment. No idea *how* you got into his workshop while still breathing; you were probably trying to hide from Bo, only to find yourself face to face with his brother. Once he notices you, he of course grabs his ornate carving knifes and tries to attack you, only for the strap of his apron to get stuck at his chair, which causes him to trip over said chair while trying to untangle himself. And to put the cherry on top, when he hits the ground, his mask cracks and falls off.

You try to bite back your laughter. Unsuccessfully. Still, you decide to run before Vincent can recover.

He catches up to you in the living room of the house. Now maskless, he advances on you while you are alternating between giggles and sobs.

Then you can see him. And just kind of blurt out:“A pretty face like yours really shouldn’t be covered up by a mask.”

He lowers his knives, confused. Are you… *hitting on him*?

Freddy Krueger

Even in a world where he is god, Freddy isn’t quite safe from the little annoyances of every day life. This time, while making one of his usual quips, he makes a small misstep and lands on his ass.

You laugh, all of your fear going up in smoke, and with that, Freddy’s powers.

“Fucking hell”, he grumbles while he pulls himself to his feet. “What, you think I’m harmless just because I tripped, bitch?”

You are doubled over, holding your sides. “Oh really? Cause you don’t look that threatening right now, old man!”

He growls, frustrated that you are *right*. You are in his world now, but he can’t do anything because you’re not scared.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is pursuing you through the walls of his family’s estate, but underestimates his momentum while rounding a corner, which causes him to lose his balance and fall backwards.

You look at the sight, and while the laughter is bubbling up inside you already, you can’t help but feel the protectiveness you have started feeling towards your “charge” flare up.

He said he wouldn’t hurt you. He said he would be good. And really he has never hurt you, right?

Still chuckling to yourself, you walk up to him and offer your hand. “I think I win this round”, you say, trying to play it off as if you were only playing catch.

He looks up at you and allows you to pull him up. “You… were just playing?”

“Of course, would I be laughing otherwise?”

Brahms doesn’t quite believe that, but as long as it means you will stay, he won’t ask any more questions.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba does tend to be a little bit on the clumsy side, so it’s no surprise when he loses his balance while swinging the chainsaw at you. It clatters to the ground, and gets dangerously close to cutting *him* instead.

You quickly grab the handle and turn it off, almost out of reflex, as if the person about to be cut by it hadn’t just tried to kill you.

The ridiculousness of the whole situation makes you burst out laughing. “What am I even doing here?”, you choke out inbetween tears of laughter. Then you shake your head and look at Bubba.

“You okay? The chainsaw didn’t get you, did it?”

He looks at you like you’re a hero. No, he can’t eat you. You saved him. He has to tell Drayton that you’re a friend now.

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (2/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

You don’t think your eyes are even able to leave, don’t think that they’re capable of ripping away from the sway of smooth silk-like noir. You notice the sharp up-curve of the nose, the flair of poise in his gaze. His features are tender, yet so sharp… It was like looking at some sort of doll.

You can see his lips part, mouthing words that you can’t seem to make out as he picks up a much smaller box, smile on his face soft with excitement, slowly curling into a laugh that you can’t hear…

And you just can’t help but think how pretty he looks.

There’s curiosity glimmering in your eyes, the uncertainty in the neutral, almost blank look on your face as you’re practically mesmerized by the sight. What sort of feeling is this? Is it normal? Are you meant to feel—

“Pah, it’s just some kid and his parents.” He practically has poison on his tongue, spitting them out with restrained irritation as he sticks his tongue out at the boy. “Bleghhhh, who even needs to look at ‘em, right?” He’s huffing a bit once he sees him disappear into the home, glad that was over and done with, hopping off the stool and chubby hand reaching for your curtain tie to draw them close.

Your eyes don’t need to see him. You have him, right? He looks to you for affirmation, for your compliance—

Only to be met with your silence, body still and eyes stuck onto the drawn curtains— The baby blue of the fabric starting to swirl your mind with perplexing images as your stare turns blank and your eyes go out of focus.

You’re not paying attention to him anymore… And that doesn’t sit quite right with your one and only friend.

He slaps a hand over your eyes, turning your sight dark and obscured and distracted. “Don’t look at him.” You can feel a slight sting from the impact, can feel how warm his hand is against your skin as you reach up to pat at him— To let you see again, please.

“Strangers are dangerous!” You know that. “Has your Mama never taught you that you shouldn’t approach kids you don’t know?!” You can hear the pouting grumbles, can hear how mad he is at the appearance of this supposedly ‘new kid’.

“Satoru…” You’re kind of confused about his behaviour, your words starting to trail off into a tone of uncertainty and slight fear. Does he not realize it?

“I’m a new kid too—“

“Y’er different!” He lets out a huff as he grabs onto your hand, tugging you towards him lightly, telling you to get off. “Don’t ask me to explain, okay!”

And you just blink at him, unintentionally hitting a nerve.

“What, ya wanna be friends with him or something?” He looks offended, a curve of his eyebrows downwards and crossed arms, feet planted themselves firmly into the tatami mats of your floor as you catch what looks suspiciously like the bristling of his hair. “Y’er not allowed to be friends with anyone from this neighbou—“

Your eyebrows furrow. “But he’s not from this neighbourhood— He just moved in, remember?”

“That’s not my point! The idea is that—“

“He’s pretty, though.” An interruption to his little spiel, eyes glancing back at the drawn curtains of your window. Does Satoru not think so too? You didn’t know people could look like that.

“Wha— Well, so am I!” Oh, so Satoru does agree. That’s enough to have you humming slightly, eyes turning into an up-curve and smiling at your friend. You’re glad he agrees. Now you both have one more similarity added to the list.

What was, unbeknownst to you, not similar right now, was his seething irritation as he watches you think about his claim.

“Mm…” Your face grows oddly serious as you slowly step off the stool, your small feet shuffling forwards to better stare at your blue-eyed friend. Your face is close, your toes on the edge as you really lean in to get a closer look, to really look him in the eye now that it’s too dark without the sunlight shining in.

You’ve never given much thought to Satoru’s looks beyond the surface level of ‘cute’.

Your scrutinization of his face leaves him quiet, leaves him to glare and pout back at you despite the close proximity. Like he was imploring you to look all you want, didn’t mind that you were coming this close to inspect the features of his face.

So you take your time to think, to ponder… To really have time to learn about his every characteristic.

You like the way his cheeks always looked full and red, always soft looking and squishy under your touch, liked the way his nose curved upwards at just that certain point and the cute scrunches he always does.

You liked his eyes, the sparkling blue akin to the shimmering ponds reflected by a sunny day, always glittering and shiny when they smiled at you. You liked how his hair, despite the sharp tips and messy styling— Looked purposeful and proper in a cute, rugged way. It suits him.

Every trait, suits him perfectly. You don’t know anybody else who would be able to pull off his looks the way he does, pull off that funny, stuck-up attitude he has… Because it wouldn’t be the same if it wasn’t him.

Maybe you just have an odd sense for beauty, or have an eye set on looking for something else. You think that maybe some people might find him to be, while some not at all. But— That’s not the point now, is it? What’s important now is what you think. You could compare him to many pretty things in the world, the skies for his eyes, the clouds for his hair— It’s not as simple as you think it is.

(And… Which word is better anyway? You can’t exactly ask Mama right now.)

So you close your eyes. What would he be to you if you can’t see him anymore? If you one day lose your sight, lose your only way of seeing the world, how would you remember him?

You think you would remember the way he smells like fabric cleaner, his soft clothing always having the same scent of refreshing chill, of vibrant sun and summer breezes.

You think you would remember how much you like him, how much you love him for being your first friend. A memory that you vow to hold clear in your head no matter how much time passes. You want to keep being his friend, until you’re clapping at his wedding, until you grow old and wrinkly and ugly, until you’re sleeping away in one of those boxes—

You have your answer.

You smile, leaning back so that the balls of your feet are back on solid ground, away from the airiness and lightheaded feel. The best compliment you can give him, the one you think suits him best.

“No.” Your eyes reflect too much light, happy joy and too much satisfaction for him to truly believe you, anticipation drying his lips as he awaits your continuation.

“You’re cute, Satoru. Not pretty.” And he believes you now, as much of the moment you had ruined for him as his pout and staunch attitude grow ever bigger.

“What?!”

Oh. You blink at him, expression taking on another look of blank neutrality and confusion. You thought you had said it pretty loudly. “I said,” You need to take another breath in, trying to project your voice ever louder than before. “You’re cute, Satoru. Not pretty—“

“I heard you the first time!” He’s still in disbelief, pushing up against your face with his own pouting one, getting all up in your face to glare at you.

Was he not satisfied with that answer? You say he’s cute, because he is. The cutest in the— You should apologise if he’s this upset.

“Sorr—“

“Don’t apologise!” He’s grabbing you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth as you just… Let him do it.

“Sorry—“ A glare. You’ll be quiet now… Or do you?

“I would still like you best no matter what, Satoru.”

(“Is that a promise?”)

——

“That sign,” A chubby, almost dainty looking finger points at it. “Ya see? It says it’s Gojo property. Means it’s mine.” His feet are kicking up sand, the creaks of the metal filling your ears as you let yourself tune into his words.

You’d have to remember how to recognize them later.

“Some letters and stuff were also sent out to the neighbourhood to let ‘em know their snotty kids aren’t allowed here.” He looks proud, smug. Bragging away at the fact that this was his playground as he continues to swing himself back and forth, with you sat right next to him on the other seat.

You stare off into the sky, noticing that the clouds looked fluffier, whiter today. More reminiscent of Satoru’s hair, more alike the puff up of his head when he wakes up from a nap beside you.

“And ‘cause ya can’t read yet, you ended up trespassing.”

Signs can’t exactly stop anyone if they can’t read, can they? Or is it your fault you didn’t learn more words?

“Sor— I’ll ask Mama to make more cookies.” You’re trying to apologize less. It’s tough, but you’re making an effort.

“Ya better!” And it goes silent after. It’s not uncomfortable, not one bit. You’ve never really been the type to enjoy talking too much, anyway. You like the silence, like it when it’s just you both, the swings, and the setting sun in the sky. You notice how you can see how the orange starts to glow against your skin, how the pinks in the sky look much lovelier than usual.

You like days like these.

“Oh right.” The creaks still all too suddenly. “I got something for you.” You can see him jump off the swing, letting out a hoot as he kicks sand up and around where he landed, running over to his Digimon backpack to pull out something.

(You think you remember the name of the animal on his bag that he taught you. Agu…Mon? Or something like that.)

You blink maybe 3 times before you’re unceremoniously fed something.

“Now eat!” A plastic spoon is shoved into your mouth before you can even say anything in response— Sweet, creamy and all too soft— Refreshingly cold and melt in your mouth. You can feel your heart turn fuzzy and melty on immediate contact, feel the sugary caramel swoon you into quiet bliss.

“Fufu,” You can practically smell the smirk in his words. “You only ever eat those cheap 3-pack puddings, right?” His smile… Looks too tight. Too forced, even. You’ve never seen him smile like this before.

“Nobody else in this place would ever be able to buy stuff like this regularly.” And he’s harrumphing, stuffing a scoop of the pudding into his own mouth in triumph and pride, a testament to the riches he can access.

You think he’s right. These cream-filled pudding cups are definitely the first you’ve seen of them—

“So you should only be my friend.” He stops chewing, stops shovelling pudding into both of yours and his mouths the moment he says that, eyes determinedly flicking from the ground up to meet yours. “You don’t need anyone else, okay?”

You think you can feel something bitter in his tone, something clinging on hyperventilating anxiousness and all-too practiced poise. It feels like he’s trying to say something he’s too embarrassed to admit, too scared to say.

If I keep buying you delicious things you’ll stay, right?

You have to remember to blink to bring yourself back into reality, your cheeks still stuffed to its capacity with caramel pudding, have to pinch your skin to really realize what he just said to you. What? Just what kinda relationship depends only on giving things to keep people as friends?

You think that’s dumb.

“But, Swatoru… Iw’m not being your friwend jwust cause—“ You’re hurrying to swallow your food, covering your mouth just to be polite like Mama taught you as your eyes catch the way his hands were starting to stiffen. “Just because you give me stuff.”

He waits for you to finish for once, all narrowed eyes, furrowed eyebrows and inquiring gaze.

“I’m your friend ‘cause I like you.” And you’re smiling, tapping at your mouth to feel the sweet stickiness left behind, humming slightly as your head tilts downwards when you feel up your pockets— To realize it’s not there.

(You forgot to bring the handkerchief Mama always makes you tout around. You now realize… How right she really is about its usefulness. You won’t doubt her ever again.)

“Satoru? Do ya have a hanky I can have?”

What you haven’t noticed was that your words have him freezing up, his face turning into an absolute mess of embarrassed cherry red, his body reeling away from you.

“Y-you’re stupid.” It’s all he can muster as his lips start to tremble, his words sounding like he was shivering. “And dumb!”

And all you remember is how hurriedly he had poured every last bit of remaining pudding into his mouth in retaliation.

(“Ah… I wanted more, Satoru.” You have a frown on your face, eyes showing a blank, slightly disappointed show. He uses your hanky to wipe his mouth, rubbing the cloth against his lips as he listens to you. “It was really good…”

He does feel kind of bad now.

“…sorry.” And it’s cute, the way his eyes have shifted to the side and the tips of his ears burning red, whispered apology under his breath that the wind whistled into your ears.

He won’t admit it.)

——

“Young Master Gojo, you will have the opportunity to talk to (name)-sama again soon. Master expects you to be home for the gathering as soon as possible.”

“You can’t approach him! Remember that!” The door of the sleek, black limousine shuts; fully obscuring your view of your friend as the servant lady— Kimiko-san, as you’ve learned her name to be, bows before you in a curt goodbye.

“Thank you for keeping the young master company today as well, (name)-sama.”

They dropped you off home.

The vroom of the engine picks up as you keep waving at the vehicle, your goodbye not being unseen as a certain milk-haired individual rushed towards the window.

You see his face pressed up against the glass, squishing his full cheeks to the surface as he points at you— And waves his pinky about.

A reminder, if you will. And you do the same in response.

“Sweetie,” Mama pats your head from behind, a sign to usher you inside now that the sun was on the verge of disappearing, the sky blanketed in dark blues and the street lamps flickering to life.

“The new neighbours moved in today.” There’s the clatter of some of the groceries she had just bought onto the table, a carton of milk, half a head of lettuce, carrots, potatoes— Tonight’s dinner is curry.

“I saw them.” You’re crawling up onto the wooden dining chair, unloading the reusable grocery bag as you hear her bring out the pot. “They have a pretty kid.”

“Do they?” You can hear the smile, the chuckle in her tone as she acknowledges you, the shuffle and crinkle of plastic in her hands as she starts to prepare dinner. “Then I hope they’re nice people.”

“Me too.” Even if you’re not allowed to approach them, you carefully descend from the chair that was just too tall for you to easily get off of, the considerably lighter items; a chocolate bar and a sponge huddled in your hands, your feet on the way to the fridge before—

You notice a sweet tartness in the air— Wafting to your nose as you take an inhale in. Oh, Mama smells nice today. Not— Artificial nice, but normal, nice. She smells like honey and vanilla, light and easy on your nose.

“You smell nice, Mama.” You’ve never been one to voice this out but… It seems that you’re just in a talkative mood today. In a mood to share your happiness. Just because.

The decisive chopping of potatoes and carrots stiffen, yet the boiling of water continues. “…is that so, sweetheart?” Her hands tensing just that little bit more as she continues on. The clacks against the wooden chopping board grow less erratic… Slow, uncertain.

Worried.

“Mhm. Didya stop by the bakery just now?” She really, really smells good. And you can see her visibly relax at that, her shoulders slumping as she lets out… A quiet sigh of relief?

(Did you say something bad?)

“I figured you would like some bread for tomorrow.” She’s back to normal. “Eating cereal all the time is bad for you, so I bought you some bread and cheese.”

“Yay! Thank you, Mama!”

Dinner passed by too quickly, too much so that you find yourself laying upon the tatami mats of your bedroom in a blink of an eye, futon yet to be rolled out, the sound of Mama preparing the bath downstairs and your tummy full of warm curry as you sigh— Life is good.

Too good, in fact. You’re starting to get suspicious— Starting with those new neighbours you just got today. You’re curious, you really are.

The window opposite to yours— That would be the rooms of one of them right? You remember a gait of confidence from his Mama, his own Papa not lagging in that aspect either. So… Which one would have that room? Does he sleep by himself? That would be so brave of him.

(Even you struggle to sleep alone… By yourself… In a dark room… You feel a shiver down your spine just thinking about it.)

Your curtains are still drawn, the room that you shared with Mama lit only by your dim ceiling light. She says she’s gonna replace the bulb soon, if you remember correctly.

So… It— Would be fine, right? You’re not approaching or interacting with him. If they were to spot you they won’t have a clear view due to the light. So technically, this counts as safe, no? Innocuous, even. You just want to see who occupies that vey room— That was directly opposite of your own.

Curiosity kills cats, or something like that. But you aren’t a cat, so it obviously doesn’t apply to you. You won’t die.

So you take the chance, grabbing hold of the fabric… Should you really be doing this? You’re unsure, uncertain. And it makes you really, really nervous. It feels like the scratchy material of your curtains were pricking into your skin as you ball up the fabric, taking a gulp… Just one peek. One is enough.

So you steel yourself, swallowing your fear and powering through your nerves. It’s just a quick peek, one glance— Get it over and done with already!

Your eyes catch bright light, the colour temperature warm and inviting. Cozy. You see curtains that were drawn open, but not just any fabric— The fancy type, with pretty lace and a neat ribbon. Pretty…

But that wasn’t the main focus.

What was, was the little boy that had already been staring at your curious little self, purple eyes widened in surprise and mouth already turning into a smile when he catches sight of you.

“Ah! You really did peek out!”

You’ve been noticed.

You squeak, ducking down and away from the window immediately. Oh no. Oh no no no no. This was not the plan at all. Not how you thought this would go! You’re panicking, using the curtains to hide your face away. Just pretend you’re not here, that you were just a figment of his imaginati—

“Oh—“ You can hear him slap a hand over his mouth. “Sorry for yelling.” His words come out hushed, quietened now.

“Did I scare you?”

You have a promise to keep. You’re not about to break it to have a conversation with a window stranger, no matter how pretty he is. At least now, you know your windows are close enough to be able to communicate. If that were any useful information at all.

“That was rude of me, wasn’t it? My Mama would scold me for that.” You think he just attempted to make a joke. A lighthearted attempt.

But… No, he’s not rude at all. You’re the one who should be apologizing for hiding away from him like this, basically ignoring him on purpose. You’re not a rude kid, you swear you’re not. Mama raised you to be better than this— But a promise is a promise.

“My name is Geto Suguru, I just moved in today!” Something about that cheery tone in his voice, the mirth in his words has you feeling guilty, sad.

Yet you don’t reply. You can’t hear him anymore— Why’s it so quiet? Is he waiting for a reply, a sign that you were still listening?

You can’t exactly tell him you made a promise against him—!

So you choose to continue the silence, letting it stretch over the growing awkwardness as you huddle in on yourself.

“It would be nice to meet you.”

Would be. Is he trying to bait you out?

“Suguru! The bath is free!” A distant call from within his home, the feel of a night breeze starting to flutter your curtains as you grip onto them for dear life.

“Oh, coming! Well… I hope we get to talk properly soon. Sorry for scaring you, by the way.” Taps of feet against the carpets of his floors as he patters away— He should be gone now, right?

But… You learned something about the neighbour today. That he was… Unexpectedly really nice. Too nice, even. You feel your conscience gnawing at you, feel guilt grip at your heart.

Mama would not be proud of you for this. Not that you’re gonna tell her, anyway.

(Geto… Suguru, huh?)

——

You don’t meet them again— Until the next afternoon, that is.

You usually check the area for anyone outside the door before you go up open it, you swear that you really do. To go pick up mail from the mailbox, receiving Mama’s delivery items… The area has to be clear before you even dare to step a foot outside.

But not today. You weren’t careful enough to cover your tracks at all.

“Well, hello there!” A lady with black hair tied into a bun and the prettiest purple eyes you’ve ever seen. She’s bright, energetic… And really tall. Taller than Mama. “I’ve only met your mother just this morning, you know? She told me about you!”

She’s really chatty.

“I’m Geto Akari, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you!”

Introduce yourself introduce yourself introduce yourself—

“…(last name) (name)…” You hope you’re loud enough. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, adjusting the mail that you were holding to be more in line with each other— Less messy. You don’t want to leave the impression of being so, after all.

She spots the white of the papers that you were clutching to your chest, hugging the envelopes near as you blink up at her. “Running some errands for your mother, sweetheart?”

“Mm.” It’s all you can do, really. Just nod and agree as you stare up at her with a stiff expression.

Smile, you should smile. You need to remember to smile.

“Well, aren’t you quite responsible for someone so young! How old are you, darling?” It’s in a coo, a sweetened tone to her voice when she’s bending down slightly to look— Less imposing to you.

“I’m 4.”

“Why, that’s the same age as my son, haha!” She sounds excited— Sounds like she was happy to know about this information as she claps her hands together. “How coincidental!”

She’s so nice.

“Morning, (last name)-san!” You see a face pop out from directly behind her, nearly jumping out of your skin as you feel your heart miss a beat, finding his eyes that were glittering with excitement.

Geto Suguru.

He must’ve heard you just now—

“Suguru, that was rude! You have to introduce yourself before calling for others!” Her hand goes down to ruffle his shoulder-length hair as he laughs.

It makes you almost want to reply—

You slap a hand over your mouth before you even begin to say anything back. Eyes darting back and forth between your home, the front door, them— You think you remember Mama mumbling about gifts last night. You should give them something— Anything. Mama would want you to be polite.

An idea.

Your gaze flickers to her eyes as she tilts her head to the side in confusion, to her son that was still awaiting… So you just nod.

Before turning on your heel to run into the kitchen, climbing onto the stool to grab the last few cookies Mama had made yesterday— Which you were saving for both yourself and Satoru, by the way.

It’s for the best, you decide. TV people did always say that sacrifices are to be made for the grater good. Whatever a grater is, anyway.

(And while you may not have the best penmanship of… Anything yet— Considering you’re only 4. But you’re gonna try, at the very least.

WeL-chum n i hoPe we get aLonG! (Welcome and I hope we get along!) )

“Oh. Welcome back, sweetie!” She smiles at you once more. “I thought you got scared of us and ran away, haha.”

You don’t reply— Only holding up the note and individually wrapped cookies up towards her, doing your best not to look at the excited little boy next to her.

“Woah! Cookies!”

“Well… Aren’t you just so precious!” She’s practically swooning at this point, patting your head gently as you blink. “Looking at you already made me contemplate wanting a daughter, now you’re really pushing me to try for one!”

Please don’t. It would be harder to avoid 2 kids instead of 1.

“Thank you so much— Ah, don’t leave yet!” She’s already making you stop as she herself starts to rush back in her home, ushering her son along with her as you hear the commotion from inside.

“Mom, let’s give her this one!”

“I think those aren’t fresh, Suguru— Oh, how about these?”

“Wouldn’t it just be better to just—“

You tune them out, standing at the front of your house and swaying back and forth on the balls of your feet as you twiddle your fingers and look up towards the afternoon sun.

It would’ve been a good day to air out the futons, Mama would say.

“Ah—! Sorry for the wait, darling! Here you go!” It’s a plastic bag— A size that would be comfortable for your toddler self to drag in without much trouble… If it didn’t look like the items inside were gonna burst out of it.

“It’s for the both of you! I hope you’ll enjoy it!”

You only nod in thanks, smiling up at her slightly as you see her practically bite back a squeal, rubbing your head with held-back enthusiasm as her son… Smiles back at you.

And when you finally close the door behind you and take your shoes off at the genkan—

You think you feel some variation of guilt course through you as you look down at the strawberries you just received— Big, fresh… And really tasty looking.

They are too kind to someone like you. You drag it in, placing the plastic packaging carefully upon the lowest tier of the fridge that you can reach— Before bolting towards the phone.

Climbing up the stool to reach the phone, you grab hold of it as you start to dial the numbers you had memorized— Only just recently.

You hear the telltale ringing, awaiting his voice. It’s urgent, it really is. Your heart is starting to beat too fast, tummy feeling like it was churning the bread and milk from this morning too quickly… You’ve never even called anyone that wasn’t your Mama before.

Were you being too hasty with this?

“You have reached the Gojo estate. How may I assist with your enquiries?” You practically freeze where you stood, a socked foot nearly making you slip against the plastic stool as your breath hitches. You don’t recognise this voice. You don’t know who the man answering this phone was. He’s too old, much too fancy sounding compared to your Satoru.

He said Gojo estate… So you didn’t call the wrong number, right?

You think you’re starting to breathe heavily into the phone to calm your nerves— Making them the only sound before you even make a move to greet the person on the other end.

“…sorry, but the colour of my—“

“Can I… Talk to Satoru please?” You practically blurt it out with unpracticed anxiety, twirling the phone cord tight between your fingers as you try to calm yourself.

“Ah.” It seems that they understood. Thank goodness. “Please excuse my rudeness, but is that you, (name)-sama?”

“Yes…” No matter how pretentious that title sounds to you.

“Please wait just a moment.”

“(name)! Do ya wanna play today?! I bought a new puddi—“

“Satoru,” You practically sound breathless with relief when you hear his voice, but you have to tell him, you just have to. “I met the new kid just now.”

And that silences him in an instant.

“I didn’t say anything to him.” As rude as you may be. “His Mama saw me outside and talked to me first, though.”

Silence that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

(“Haha!” You hear him laugh, it’s bellowing, taunting and all too amused. “Why would I be mad? Ya ignored the kid right?!”

“Good job!”

And you feel satisfied.)

——

“(last name)-san.” His smile is ever courteous, ever polite and soft. It makes your heart melt, if you were to be honest. “Wanna play together?”

“I brought my crayons and some paper, since I thought you would like it.” Was it because of your note? Regardless, this was— A really bad time. A really, really bad time.

“(nameeeeee)! Why’d ya ignore me for the door—!” Oh no.

You didn’t predict that today would be the very day that they met— Swear you didn’t plan or foresee this. It was only this morning that you had heard your zodiac sign might be unlucky today, how troubles and tribulations may come swimming your way to stir the path of your future, only just this morning that you decided that that kind of thing was just another folly…!

You didn’t know it was going to be right?!

“Your hair’s ugly.”

“I don’t like your eyes.”

“Yea?! Ya wanna go, Weird Bangs?!”

“Not with the likes of you, Bug Eyes.”

“Haah?!”

With you cramped in between them, no less. You call it sheer, dumb luck that you were able to invite your neighbour inside without too much of a fuss. Get them to sit around you in your living room as you all… Draw.

Geto’s crayons are scattered about, the drawing block papers starting to fill with a myriad of colourful shapes as you hum and try to keep the peace between the two of them.

“Mama says that fighting is bad.” You think so too, honestly. What’s the point to them? It’s easier to keep the peace and be friends with each other.

“Sorry, (last name)-san.”

“Hmph!”

At least they’re settled down now.

“What are you drawing?” It’s Geto that was sitting cross-legged next to you as you’re lying on your front, legs kicked up and elbows propped against the ground to support your head as he watches your hands move.

And that has Satoru peeking over as well, much to his dismay.

“Don’t draw him—“ And he’s already huffing, puffing his cheeks and pouting when he sees you colour in black and dot in purple. He notices the telltale signs of the kimono he wore when he first met you, able to make out the figures you’re drawing in record time. Good. It’s good that you’re drawing him and you together, but he doesn’t want that thing with you both.

And that has him picking up a red crayon, catching your attention when you see him readying himself to scribble all over your hard work.

“W-wait, Satoru—“ You try to push him back, hold him away from the colourful drawing of yours. You don’t want it ruined, don’t want him to do something to it yet. I-it’s important to you, something you spent your time on, he can’t—

“She said she didn’t want you drawing on the paper.” Suguru’s grip on his wrist is tight, squeezing with a strength that was unprecedented for someone his size.

And you think you can feel something change in the air, the tension building, it’s bitter, unpleasant— Has you feeling like you want to curl into a ball and cry. A churn in your gut that you’re all too familiar with when you were living together with your Papa.

A warning. One that even children like them, like you; can interpret loud and clear even without having known the existence of pheromones and warning growls.

They say natures are inherent, after all.

“She’s my friend. I don’t get why you’re interfering, dummy.” He snarls back with just as much underlying aggression, stirring something in you to want to lie low— Disappear, even.

And you think that maybe you should listen to those zodiac sign forecasts a lot more.

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[vasiktomis]

Overqualified (Choso x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A series of vignettes over the course of which you decide you're actually pretty cool with the idea of giving Choso head.

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~7300. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, Social Anxiety, Vomiting (not part of the sex stuff I swear but icks are icks), Angst, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Mentions of Non-Con but No Descriptions. Canon-variant, nobody’s dead, everyone’s fine etc etc. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“You’re kidding, right?”

You’re all too familiar with how curses wear their expressions when they become powerful enough to learn to make them. 

In your line of work — at the level you’ve risen to — you’re often stuck with the ones that take human form. The ones that learn to mimic sounds and words and mannerisms. You’ve watched time and time again, the intelligence that forms in First and Special-grades that allows them to appear so convincingly human in such a short period of time. You learned the hard way early in your career, what it’s like to fall for the act and take pity on a curse. You’ve lost kind people to the trap of sentiment. 

You became wise to it; despite all that intelligence that came with such a degree of power, curses bore an unquenchable drive to harm humans.

You learned to see through the pleading. The crying. High-level curses learning to comprehend terror changes nothing. When you despatch them, it changes nothing. No matter how they beg for mercy, the instinct to kill you never ceases. 

It’s in their eyes, you learn.

It’s in his eyes, when the remaining students and teachers at Shibuya bring him home to Jujutsu High. A Death Painting Womb. A half-curse. You don’t need to hear the human half of it. Your mind’s made up the moment they put you in the same room as him, ordered in spite of all your protests not to kill him where he stands. He won’t harm the Itadori kid, you’re assured. The kid is safe with him. 

Choso.

You can’t even believe he’s got a name.

He sticks to the boy’s side, insisting their blood-relation while he glances about his environment with baby-fresh eyes. He’s a curse in the way he takes in information. Everything is new. Every emotion he feels borders on fresh.

Brow knitted. Jaw set. The dozens of little muscles around his mouth tighten. His eyes don’t blink for their minutes of fixation. Not until his attention is called away and Itadori leaves the room, beckoning him to follow. 

It’s in his eyes. You won’t be fooled.

He watches you like he wants to kill you.

_________________________________

Your orders keep you from destroying Choso. They force you to co-exist with your guard consistently up, and as the weeks draw on, your exhaustion builds. You manage to steer clear of him for a good month before Tsukumo weighs in with a surprisingly high opinion of him. Drinking buddies? Fuck off. That’s your job. You’re not going to be muscled out of your place at her side.

You’re confident in her opinion, of course. But it doesn’t change yours. Weakened resolve be damned — there’s no way you’re letting yourself be in the same room as him again.

…

Still, you suppose it couldn’t hurt humouring her suggestions for you to tolerate him. It’s not like you need to do much more than that. If somehow you turn out to be wrong and she starts buying free rounds for a curse instead of you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. 

It’s a rainy day lunchtime when you force yourself to approach the man, holding your lunch tray over your torso in the event he makes a jab for your internal organs as you join the line. 

He glances at you once. Twice. Aborting a too-late attempt to reach for a rice bowl when you snatch one from the warmer and take a step forward to force him along.

Fear. Good. He’s learned fear. 

Your tongue readies in your mouth. Your throat runs dry. 

“Shitty weather.” You manage.

His head whips around. Eyes bug out of his skull as he turns to regard you. There’s that clench in his jaw again. 

Choso does not respond. His posture changes, dipping down. Momentarily, you ready yourself for an attack, flinching to keep yourself from countering when he makes a sudden lurch for as many items he can reach. Shoving them onto his tray. Half a cup of steaming miso soup spills into his sleeve as he reels back and around you, storming out of the line without a word. 

You eat your lunch at the window. Watching as he eats his on a step in the pouring rain, glaring into the middle-distance. 

He must know you’re onto him.

_________________________________

The weeks drag on. Somehow, it feels simultaneously like your every move on campus grounds is watched by the half-curse while your every attempt to observe him close up is met with a hurried getaway. 

By social means, Choso develops quickly. He still spends most of his time by Itadori’s side, but he begins to branch out. Much to your chagrin, the staff warm to him, too.

It isn’t long until they have the kid hooked up to you, much like Nanami’s old role before his run-in with the disaster curses knocked enough sense into him to go part-time. It pissed you off the first you hear about it; it had to be Choso’s doing. He must have known that you’d had it out for him and he was going to try his luck separating you from your peers after gaining Itadori’s trust.

You knew it. He was plotting to kill you.

Then, you find out that it was Itadori who’d requested you as a mentor, and the wind gets knocked out of your sails pretty fast. 

It starts with a “Teacher!” Bellowed across the walkway. You’re hunched over, sipping from a faulty water fountain that the students seem to find great entertainment shoving twigs into to mess with the pressure. You know the kid’s voice well enough that embarrassment creeps up the back of your neck. 

You straighten out, wiping your mouth on your sleeve, angling to look a little less lame after being caught at the mercy of a shitty fountain. “Itadori.” You greet the approaching boy. The only acknowledgement you offer his company is in your periphery. Were it not so rude, you’d close one eye so that you only have to look at the kid while you regard them. “Looks like you’re my new protege.”

There’s a pause.

Itadori looks between you and Choso, waiting for the two of you to exchange your own greetings. 

It doesn’t happen.

More and more, Choso watches you with those unblinking eyes. Your focus is drawn. Minutely, you realise, he’s trembling. 

“You — you know! It occurred to me that you haven’t properly met my half-brother.” Itadori ventures to break the ice. “Figured it would be nice for you two to know one another if we’re going to be learning from you.”

We’re.

You’re not a two-for-one deal. You never agreed to help train a curse. 

“You don’t say.” You mutter, finally meeting Choso’s eye. Alright, then. Just because you like the kid, you’ll humour him. “Hey.”

There’s no answer. Not right away. Not until there’s an elbow nudging at Choso’s ribs. His adam’s apple bobs in a visible gulp. 

“H-“

That’s all he manages before a mouthful of bile sprays out of his mouth. He has good reaction time, you’ll give him that. But it doesn’t help his cause. It just spills between his fingers as he tries to cover his face. You’d liken it to placing one’s thumb over a garden hose.

Itadori, meanwhile, springs into a panicked attempt to get between the two of you, shielding Choso from view with his body. “Haha! Okay! Great, so we’ll be seeing you!” He exclaims, alternating between leading his doubled-over brother back the way they came and waving at you. 

Once again, you watch. Once again, perplexed. 

“That was good, but it could have gone better. Next time, don’t throw up, okay?”

Anxiety vomiting.

Huh.

You’ll admit — this is a first. 

_________________________________

Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.

Sure, he can hardly formulate a sentence around you, but at least the lack of interjection makes it easier to focus on Itadori’s development. Is Choso’s presence a constant irritation? Absolutely, but not unlike his little brother, you grow accustomed to his presence. That’s not to say that you’d ever grow to care for him to the same extent you do Itadori. In fact, the only reason you keep your trap shut about having him along for the ride is for the kid’s sake. 

One thing that does start to irk you, however — even moreso than being stuck with a half-fucking-curse in your downtime, is how quickly Choso develops an opinion on your teaching style.

Rather, how critical he becomes of it. 

First, there’s a huff. A sharp exhale out his nose marking disdain when you call Itadori back to rest. It builds from there. Pointed looks. Scoffs. A subtle rolling of his eyes when you snap at the kid to watch his blind spots over the passing weeks.

You’re sure you might end up killing him unprompted at this rate. 

“You ought to praise him more.” Is the first full sentence he manages to get through when you’re alone with him. Itadori has left the two of you alone in a booth at CoCo Curry to excuse himself to the bathroom, and Choso jumps at the opportunity to level his criticism at you.

It’s a miracle he’s even speaking to you at all, you think at first.

Then, once you’ve registered what he’s said, you think it’s a miracle you managed to refrain from bringing your spoon down through his hand.

“Excuse me?” You seethe. “For your information, he does this every time. He always picks extra hot. He always empties the shaker when it gets brought out. He’s always shocked when he has to run off and shit himself before he’s halfway done.”

“I know that. His courage is unmatched.” Choso bites back, twisting in his seat to face you. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re too harsh on him in training.”

Where is all this bravery coming from all of a sudden? Is this really how protective he gets around the kid?

How misplaced. How sentimental. If you weren’t a sorcerer you might be moved by what comes off as brotherly affection.

You won’t  fall for it. 

A snarl curls at your lip. “Where do you get off, talking to me? You wanna give me life advice next? Wanna apply for my job? How many months have you been living outside a test tube, huh?”

“I’m only talking to you because I’m looking out for him.” He glares.

“Yeah, you and me both.” You dismiss him. “Look. I’ve got big shoes to fill. Itadori’s last mentor was hard on him. He’s closer to that guy than I could ever hope to be, but at least I know he listens to me when I boss him around. I’d rather the kid be covering his bases and coming home to me alive, than letting too much praise to go his head and getting him killed."

Choso doesn’t reply for a moment. His gaze remains hard, bottom jaw jutting out like a petulant kid. After a moment, he breaks away, redirecting his glare down at his emptied bowl. 

“He respects you a lot. He looks up to you.” The man mumbles, crossing his arms and sinking down in the booth. “Please praise him.”

The two of you sit in stubborn silence for the better part of half an hour, until your student returns from the bathroom with an exhilarated huff. You can practically see the stink lines radiating off him.

“Whew!” The kid exclaims, throwing himself down beside Choso. “Aw man, my food’s probably cold.”

Yeah, whose fault is that. 

“Hey. Itadori.” You grumble, earning the kid’s attention.

“Hm?” He perks up, mouth full. 

“You did well today.”

You’ve turned your attention to the menu, scouring a drinks menu you’re far too full to even consider ordering.

In your periphery, Choso sits up a little.

_________________________________

You don’t make a secret of where you live. In the Jujutsu world, generally speaking (with Tsukumo being an enigmatic exception), the more secretive one tries to be about their lifestyle, the more curious it makes everyone else. You watched Nanami learn this the hard way after his return to the job and the sheer effort he put in for a while there to ensure no one knew how to contact him outside of work hours.

Of course, everyone wound up with his landline number and personal address whether any of you visit him of not. 

It helps, having everyone generally know where they stand with you, anyway. ‘Emergencies only’ tends to be your rule. Approachable on campus and on the street, but home time is home time. Only show up if you’re in need of help. Or if you’re bringing free stuff.

So imagine your surprise when you open your front door and find Choso of all people, not at eye-level, but on his knees at your feet, forehead stamped to the doormat.

“What the fu-“

“Forgive me.” The man’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t move from the bow. You take the opportunity to look right. Left. Right again. Scanning for Itadori to come bounding over to escort him away from you once more.

Today, Choso is alone, but the thought of being attacked by him has dimmed to embers by now. You’ll chide yourself for it later, you think. 

Right now, you’re more concerned with not drawing too much attention from the neighbours. 

“Woah. Hey.” You crouch down. Choso flinches at your fingertips brushing his shoulder blade, but he doesn’t withdraw. Once again, he just starts trembling. 

Man, he really is the sensitive sort.

He better not throw up again. Not while you’re close enough to be in the firing line. 

“Forgive me.” Choso repeats. “I’ve been rude to you. I’ll try harder from now on. Let me redeem myself.”

“Okay! Okay, you’re forgiven, you’re redeemed. Now would you get up? I wipe my feet on that mat.” You hiss, tugging at his sleeve. This time, he gets the hint, getting to his feet and regarding you with an expression resembling hopeful and a patch of grit on his forehead. 

In spite of all the confusion, you’ll admit, he’s cute. In a — born sexy yesterday  kind of way.

In spite of yourself, you tug at his sleeve, taking the opportunity to rub the crap off his head. “Come inside before people get the wrong idea. You want a drink?”

“No, I’d throw up again.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your candor…—“ You trail, gesturing for him to take a seat on your couch. He does as instructed, scanning your apartment from left to right, committing it to memory. “Do I freak you out that much?”

Choso doesn’t mince his words. He isn’t learned enough quite yet to beat around the bush. Maybe he might not be the type, regardless. “Yes.” He nods, avoiding your gaze in favour of staring at your reflection on the TV screen. “You have every right to feel uncomfortable around me, but I want your permission to be honest.”

Frowning, you incline your head in acknowledgement. 

It’s almost like it’s the answer he didn’t want. All of a sudden, he’s not even capable of looking at your reflection. He seats himself on your couch and rubs his thumb into his palm. Holding his own hand. “I have awful feelings toward you.”

Something pricks at the base of your skull. Your eyebrows shoot up. Is this finally it? Is this your moment of vindication? Is he finally going to admit he wants to kill you?

“How awful are we talking?” You prod.

”Terrible.”

Your gaze flits around the living room for something to imbue, just in the event that he does pounce. “Uhhh, go on. I’m listening.”

“Looking at you makes me queasy.”

You abort an attempt to reach for your shark-grabber, reconsidering its promotion from TV remote reaching. “Harsh.”

“Were it not for the possibility of disappointing Yuji, I don’t know how else I’d be capable of controlling it. If I hurt you, he’d never speak to me again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to put a lid on it—“

“You’ve been putting in a lot of effort to tolerate me just so you can help make sure Yuji is okay, and I haven’t given you the same kindness. You’re good to him. It intimidates me.”

Okay, this is taking a weird turn-

“—I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

…

Heat creeps up your neck and into your ears.

“Oh.” You breathe, chest tightening as the realisation dawns on you. 

Ohh, you get it now. Despite the deviation, Choso looks guilty enough that he may as well have admitted to wanting to kill you after all. 

You swallow your pride, sitting down beside him on the couch. “You have a crush on me.”

His brow furrows. There’s that stare again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t know what I should do.”

This whole time, it wasn’t aggression he’s been dealing with.

It was attraction.

“It’s okay.” You assure him for once, orbiting a fine line between emotional whiplash, awkwardness, and flattered sort of accomplishment. “You don’t need to do anything. People get crushes, it’s normal.”

People. It’s a person thing. There’s nothing cursed to it. Guilt pools in your gut. Just how nasty have you been toward the guy? Of course you’ve been freaking him out; he’s been catching up with the world this whole time and all you’ve done is make things harder on him.

And he still holds you in high enough regard to seek guidance from you, despite how embarrassing this must be?

“So what do I do?”

It’s not like there’s much of a choice. It’s not like you’ve really analysed your own feelings toward this man beyond bare tolerance at best — but you owe it to him to be sensible. You owe it to him to be a little more merciful than you would, even to a full-blooded human. Were he another sorcerer, you’d probably tell him to fuck off. Stop wasting your time. But he’s trusting you with a first that’s been torturing him.

He’s handsome, sure — but you don’t even know if you’re capable of trusting him not to end your life despite all he’s said. A single conversation can’t undo everything you’ve learned to feel.

“Well, if you wanna spare us both the discomfort, you could try asking another dude about how to handle it.” You suggest, casually as you can muster. “Not your teenage brother. Find an adult.”

Choso nods. You sense his tongue shifting behind his teeth. Considering asking why not you? But he seems to realise the implications by sheer instinct. The kind of conversation he needs to have can’t be with you. Not without altering your relationship before it can even find its feet. 

“Yeah.” He agrees, not quite able to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time. “I’ll do my best.”

You’re getting sick of this. You’ve never heard such sincerity in your life. 

Oh, fine. 

You offer him a smile. Another first.

You’d fuck him.

_________________________________

You could never get sick of this.

“Saved you a spot.” Choso’s platforms lift off the seat beside him before you have a chance to notice the half-dozen empty alternatives. You do, however, become painfully aware that you’d been on your way to sit beside him anyway. There are plenty of alternatives. Years-long professional and personal relationships scattered all around the room, but your recent months with this one in particular have made him a begrudging favourite.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, slumping down with a huff.

He’s been ten times easier to handle since your little deep-and-meaningful. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s actually been kind of a cool guy to hang around. 

As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t help but indulge in the idea that it’s probably all the jerking off he’s likely been doing. Nevertheless, as far as your increasing curiosity imagines, he hasn’t broached the topic with you since. 

“Bring my Kagome?” Choso asks, prompting you to hand him your bag to search through.

“Didn’t miss anything, did I?” You ask.

“Competition’s started, but no one’s made contact yet.” Utahime answers from up front, not bothering to break away from the screens showcasing the exchange event’s progress.

Beside her, Gojo sinks further into his seat. His head lolls against the arm rest. “It’s so boring in here with you lot. Hey, Utahime, why don’t you embarrass yourself for everyone’s entertainment?“

The ensuing squabbling is quickly dulled to you as Choso hands your bag back, stabbing a straw into the juicebox he’s withdrawn. Both of you watch the screens, looking for your protege in particular. 

“Yuji’s trying to group up with the other Tokyo kids.” Choso mentions, fingers brushing yours without flinching when you hand the box back after he offers.

“He knows he doesn’t have to do that, right?”

”Depends on how bored he gets on his own.”

Your comment causes Gojo’s head to dip back, angling his attention at you. His mouth opens, but no sound escapes him. 

His attention shifts to the side of you. 

“Hey, why does he get a juice?”

“Pipe down and watch the competition!” Utahime barks at him. Curiosity draws her attention up and back to you, however, gaze dropping to the drink in Choso’s hand. “Hey — is that berry salad?”

“Berry salad!” Gojo whines. “C’mon, share.”

You watch in your periphery as Choso leans forward, and the two up front stretch out an arm each. Gojo’s spindly limbs have poor Utahime beat, but Choso carries the prize just barely out of the man’s reach.

He holds it out to you instead.

You don't even mind that half the sip is backwash. It's nice being the favourite of your favourite.

One of these days you really ought to blow him.

_________________________________

The doorbell rings.

Habit has conditioned you to expect Choso at your door. When you open it, however, you’re made aware of two surprises: a plummeting excitement that had no right building in the first place that the person bowing at your front step isn’t the man in question, and secondly, that it’s his brother, your protege that stands in his place.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“Teacher!” Itadori exclaims, bent from the hip at a perfect right-angle. “Please date my brother!”

…

What the hell is wrong  with this family?

Your throat closes on itself as you claw for a response that doesn’t involve punching this poor child in the back of his head. “Wha—! Who told you I — get off my property!” You bark, heat flushing your ears.

“I thought you rented.” Itadori straightens, confusion tugging an eyebrow up.

“That’s beside the point.”

Then he’s dropping right back down again. “Please date Choso!”

Choso. What’s he been telling the kid? Did he go back on his word and seek relationship advice from a teenager? Is he trying to kill you after all?

“What gives?!” You snarl down at him. “I’m your mentor! Would you pull this kinda shit with Nanami?”

“To be fair, Nanami is the one person I wouldn’t pull this with.” Itadori protests, holding his hands up in defense. “Date my brother!” 

“Agh!” With that, you slam the door on the kid. “Learn some damn respect! Jeez, I’m starting to get where Utahime’s coming from.”

There’s a grumble behind the wood. A defeat well-picked.

“Fine. See you tomorrow.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. Think about what you want for lunch.”

_________________________________

The moment you wrap the training day and send the kid on his way, you snatch at Choso’s sleeve before he can shuffle off after his brother. “What the hell did you tell him!”

The man flinches at your touch. He frowns hard. “I didn’t tell him anything.” He grunts back, shrugging uncomfortably away from you. “You told me not to. Why are you mad?”

“Don’t jump to calling women angry. It’s anti-feminist.”

It doesn’t immediately occur to you that with just yourself and Tsukumo being the only adult women Choso knows, he probably hasn’t had much interaction with the women’s rights movement. Nevertheless, he runs with it.

“Okay. You’re not mad.”

“I am  mad! Why’s your little brother knocking on my door telling me to go out with you, huh?”

“What?!” Choso whips around, regarding you with terror. “Yuji?! I only talked to Ino-“

Your fist collides with your palm. “Ino!”  You seethe, content to settle on such a target, at least until Choso taps his index fingers together. Almost…like he’s counting. 

“— and he gave me some advice, but he couldn’t help me with one question I had. So I asked Ijichi, but he didn’t have an answer for me, either. So then I asked Tsukumo, and she couldn’t —“

Great, just great, you think, zoning out while the man continues to list off the names of almost every adult you interact with on a regular basis — the entire faculty staff and beyond know. Serves you right for trusting any one of those jackasses to keep a secret from a child.

You relent, if not at his sincerity, then at least just to escape the roll-call. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.” You sigh. “In any case, did you get an answer for your question?”

Choso pauses. Averts his gaze. “No. Well, Nanami gave me an answer he said works, but it’s not something I want to do.”

“…Can I help?” You offer.

“You said-“

“I know, but you’ve exhausted your other options.”

The look on his face is nothing short of defeated. You are not  the person he wanted to have to ask. 

“Can I take a raincheck?” Choso asks.

You touch a hand to his arm, an assurance of support. After how many months of progress, he shifts away from contact for a second time today.

Months ago, you would have felt relieved by such a rejection; now, it pools hollow and worrisome in your gut.

Something’s changed. 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” You lie. 

_________________________________

Weeks pass. It feels like an eternity.

You’re beginning to adjust to walking just yourself home again.

Choso seems to make himself scarce in your life what ever way he can, and where he can’t, he puts as much distance between himself and you as possible. He doesn’t look at you anymore. He doesn’t speak to you. You’re not the sort to reach out; you’re plenty used to people disappearing from your life without a trace — but this feels different. 

There’s no one to remind to take their big stupid giant shoes off at the step when you enter your flat.

It’s quiet. Lonesome, a needier person might call it.

Had you not convinced yourself this was something you’d wanted from the start, you’d confront him about it. Ask him why he’s avoiding you — but what would that fix?

What would you hope to get out of closure? 

You should be relieved that he’s lost interest in you. You should be over the moon that he ejects from conversations entirely upon your arrival. That he stands up and moves to the opposite side of the room should you put yourself in an empty seat beside him. 

Your life is no longer haunted by his gawking presence. Itadori shows up alone to his training sessions, and were you not hell-bent on putting on a show of relief at Choso’s absence to the rest of the world, you’d stoop to asking the kid what the hell was going on. 

As little as you can convince yourself any longer, you’ve got to convince the rest of the world. 

You don’t give a shit.

Pulling the fridge door open, you pull a juice box out of your bag and place it back on the shelf you’d plucked it from this morning.

Yeah. You’re fine. You’re great, actually. 

You don’t even fucking like berry salad. 

_________________________________

“How do I stop?”

You stare at the man in your doorway, halfway caught between dumbfounded and furious.

He stares back, refusing to elaborate for you.

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t spoken to me in months-“

“You promised me I could take a raincheck.” Choso says. “I’ve tried everything. Tell me how to make it stop.”

You should turn him away. You should say something awful and hurt him. Make him think twice before daring to get under someone’s skin the way he did yours.

A muscle in Choso’s jaw tenses. That would’ve been all it took, and you hate yourself for that much — but then he hits you with a staggered, weak little: “Please.”

“Make what—…ugh.” You relent, stepping aside to let him pass. “Shoes.”

He’s already stepping out of them, padding through your hallway on his way to the kitchen out of sheer habit.

“Don’t even think  about taking a Kagome.”

There’s a grunt. The fridge door closes. 

Choso’s stepping back into the living room when you’ve caught up with him. “I’m…really sorry.” He fiddles with his hands, shrinking into himself under the heat of your scrutiny. “I’ve—…missed talking to you.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t.” You snap. His gaze hits the floor, and guilt threatens to well in your throat. “I’m angry you ghosted me, okay?”

“I was trying to take Nanami’s advice.” He mumbles.

”Nanami.”

“But it hasn’t worked.“ The man continues, ignoring your targeted rage. “I asked him how I can stop feeling how I feel about you, and he told me to stay away, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to stop, and I know how sad it’s making you, but I can’t—“

You snap out of your haze at the wobble in the man’s voice, finding him clutching at his own sleeves, a futile endeavour at self-soothing. For just a moment, his gaze locks to yours.

Fuck, you’ve missed him looking at you. How sad is that.

“Why do you want to stop?” You ask, and all of a sudden he can’t look you in the eye again. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

“Because you don’t want it.” He explains, frustration mounting. “Everything I’ve read, everything I’ve watched, it’s not one-sided. In real life, with you — it’s only me. It makes-…it makes me feel terrible.” A pit forms in your stomach as he goes on. “Do you know how me and my siblings exist? Through my mother’s suffering.”

...

Oh, fuck.

You’ve been so stupid.

How could you have not thought this through? Choso’s a sensitive guy even without the nature of his existence coming into play, and your most rational thought when he came to you with this problem was to save your own embarrassment and throw him at porn?

The only prior understanding he’s had of sexuality is forced procreation.

All this time you’ve been torturing him, throwing him under the bus. Putting the entire responsibility for his interest in you onto him, without him even understanding any of it. You’ve been leading him along under the impression that you’re not interested, that you detest him, and while that might have been true at the start— 

“I don’t want to feel the way my father might have felt about my mother.” Choso admits. “I don’t want to want someone who doesn’t want me back.”

“You’ve got it wrong.” You manage. “You’re not bad for wanting me. There’s nothing I don’t like about that.” 

Your words fall on deaf ears. He’s already far too swept up in his own thoughts to hear you. 

“Choso.”  You speak firmly, and you’re not sure if it’s the tone you take or his own catastrophising, but you’ve never seen him look more afraid of you than he does right now. “It’s not the same, I promise you. That’s not how it works. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“But it does hurt you.” Choso insists, snatching at your shoulders like he's trying to snap you out of a stupor. “I see how much it bothers you. I don’t want to make you suffer.”

Your brow knits. Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy about all this you’d admit to him that the hurt of his absence has by far beaten any negative feelings brought about by having him around. 

“You treat my brother so well.” He offers, solemnly. “You tolerate me for his sake. It makes me feel so selfish — I want Yuji to be happy and continue to learn from you — but if you choose not to train him anymore because of me, then I  won’t be able to be near you anymore either. I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t bear to make you carry the burden of knowing how I feel about you. So please, tell me how I can stop.”

"I don't want you to stop." You blurt. This time, you're the one incapable of meeting his eye. Instead, you scowl at the wrap over his chest, doing your best not to get swept up in reuniting with the scent of him. "I'm sorry for making you go through this by yourself. I hate that I drove you away and made you feel like this. You can do what you want, but you need to know that what you're going through isn't bad. It's human."

Choso tentatively runs the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. Not quite touching you. Closing your proximity all the while. You feel his breath. You feel his warmth.

“It’s nothing like that,” You promise, “because I think the same of you.”

Then, you feel the fucker smirk down at you. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture."

"Shut up. I'm trying."

His gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, no doubt running through the natural course of events he’s been studying in whatever material the others have had him watch. His head dips, catching your attention, and then ever lower, nose almost brushing yours.

“You’re sure.” He breathes. 

You answer by covering the distance, ghosting your lips against his. Choso’s body stiffens, leaning into you in what he must assume is how he should reciprocate. You quell the insecurity, sliding your fingers down his arm before you find your balance with a palm pressed to his chest. He’s too inexperienced to take the cue, but he’s smart enough to break away with a questioning look. The blood mark across his nose has altered its shape. Not quite as straight as it once was.

“You can touch me. I want you to.” You murmur, tugging the bands out of his hair one at a time. “I’ll like it.”

The blood mark stretches over Choso’s cheeks. A hollow breathe escapes him just as he pulls you against him in another kiss, long arms wrapping firmly around your waist. He’s clearly inexperienced, but he's a quick learner. He follows your lead, mimicking your motions. Large hands drift over your ribcage. Pawing at your waist. Then, the moment your tongue slips over Choso’s bottom lip, he’s holding your hips just shy of his own. 

“You’re sure.”

His pupils are dilated beyond belief as he holds you at bay, lacking the willpower to keep from allowing you to push back into his grasp just a little, just enough to feel a burgeoning erection jutting against your stomach.

His hairties roll onto your wrist. Your fingers toy with his locks, gathering on his shoulders. “I think,” You smile up at him, “You should show me what you’ve been learning.”

Something in him snaps. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat, florid, hands yanking you in against his body. A ragged hum spills from his throat as you respond in kind, snatching at his cowl, breaking away from him just to untie the thing and pulling it off over his head.

Choso isn’t much of a talker. Not yet, at least. Not while so much of his concentration is on making up for lost time exploring you. For the moment, you have to find satisfaction in pulling wordless sounds from him, learning where he’s most sensitive. His ribcage. His throat. His hipbones. It’s not until your fingertips graze his cock through his pants that he musters a breathy little ”fuck—“

His weight braces against you naturally, chasing more, confidence growing. He spends a particularly long moment squeezing your ass before he hurriedly shifts his attention — just pointed enough to have you noting that he might already be figuring out his favourites.

When Choso’s fingers paw at your tits, though — a favourite of your own — you can’t help the little noise that escapes you.

He draws back. Pupils constricted. Blood mark tightening across his face. Sensing competition.

Not today, you affirm silently, walking the man backward until his legs hit the couch and he falls into a sit. You follow, sinking to your knees between his, palms resting on his thighs.

“Won’t you?” You ask sweetly, angling for a look akin to innocent, watching Choso gulp at the sight.

“Won’t I wh-what…” He stammers. So much for competition.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. You don’t take your eyes off him. “Show me.”

Choso takes a moment, considering your words in total silence. Then, with a shuddering breath, he’s fumbling with his underclothes, juban tugging up out of the way. Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalised at the sight. You’ve scarcely seen more of Choso than his arms. The flat of his stomach feels oddly intimate.

His cock is just as pale as his fingers. He slowly, steadily pulls his foreskin up, though his grip conceals him for the most part, much to your disappointment. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. Colour gathers on the delicate tip, much like the hue of his eyelids. Choso draws up again, and you find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.

“If you wanted to watch so bad, you should’ve asked.” He mutters, tone chastising — yet undermined by the flush blotting his neck, and again, you make a note. He’s going to be bratty once he gets the hang of this.

“Maybe if you’d been nice about it-“

“Are you gonna let me blow you, or what?” You interject.

Choso goes silent. Eyes wide. You’d think you’d gone too far if he hadn’t immediately relinquished his grip.

You waste no time replacing his hand with your own, balancing his cock between your fingers, tipping it toward you as you shimmy closer, nudging his knees further apart.

The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you grin at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Flagging permission to keep going. He can handle it. You don’t have to be content with just a taste.

Your mouth envelops his cock, and Choso grips hard  at the cushion beneath him. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. So much so that you’re worried he might already be done for. Waiting another moment brings nothing else, but he probably needs a moment regardless.

Sitting back on your heels, you check in, poising your wettened lips just shy of the head. Choso looks like he’s on the verge of tears. It isn’t helped by the rorschach blotting of the blood mark dripping down his cheeks like drenched mascara.

“You okay?” You check in. “You need to stop?”

“No!” He yips, sitting up, bordering outraged. It takes a moment for him to register the smile on your face as a taunt. That you’re not serious about backing out.

All the same, if you didn’t have him pinned to the couch right now, you’re sure he’d be bowing at your feet again.

“Keep going. I can take it.”

Your hand works him slowly from base to tip, squeezing out another clear, oozing droplet. You smear it back and forth over your lips, and Choso’s head dips back against the couch, scrunching his eyes shut. Poor thing. As fun as it is teasing him, you owe it to him to at least get him off.

“Just relax.” You murmur, licking your lips, brushing your tongue around the head of his cock and waiting for a minute nod on his part before continuing on. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm so as not to catch him off-guard. You want to draw this out as long as possible for him. You want him at your door again, at your feet, begging you for more.

You want to be the only one he wants doing this to him.

There’s no helping a swallow on your part when he nudges the back of your throat one too many times, though, and Choso gasps like he’s dying. His posture curls, instinctively trying to find purchase on something that isn’t just the couch. His cock twitches in your mouth, and you go still.

He’s on the brink, but you’re convinced you can work just a bit more out of him with a little patience.

Choso’s hands come to hover over your head. You don’t have the ability right now to tell him you’d be fine with having his grip guide you, and without that go-ahead, he’s not taking his chances. He’s far too considerate to do that.

So he just sits there, letting himself suffer, not quite sure what to do with himself beyond entrusting that part to you.

Once his muscles have relaxed enough, signalling his body’s retreat from the orgasm that had been building, you deem it safe to resume. Starting slow and shallow once again, you earn yourself a frustrated groan.

That’s more like it. The nerves are settling. He wants  to cum, now.

You can’t help but go back on your word, just a little. You can’t help but taunt him, pulling back to suck on just the head until his fingernails are digging into his palms. Choso’s hips judder, threatening to buck up into your mouth and taking a conscious effort to be stilled. His breaths push and pull through gritted teeth, and fine, it might be time to give the poor guy a break.

Choso all but cries out when you take him all the way in again, stifling an instinctual gag when another spurt of pre-cum hits your overworked throat. You don’t let up, for his sake. His breaths come short and sharp. His cock swells on your tongue, leaking pitifully in sync with an equally pitiful sound in his chest.

“I—“ He whimpers, voice wobbling, “I’m gonna—“

There’s no curse words he’s been exposed to enough to pick out, and when Choso peaks, he does so wordlessly in a mess of gasps and groans. The first pulse of cum jets across your tongue, and you draw back to hold your mouth open, working him through it with your hand. Ribbon after ribbon coats your face as Choso keens his way through the aftershocks, only filling your mouth when the force dwindles and his body slackens.

You’d mistake him for a corpse, were he not twitching every few seconds. His eyes are fixed on your face, glassy and unmoving, mouth agape as if he might burst into tears at any moment, unaided by the running of his blood mark down his cheeks.

Sitting back and admiring your handiwork, you swipe a thumb across a stripe of cum that starts to streak down your face, watching the man with a smile. You pop your thumb into your mouth, and Choso jolts to life at the sight, sitting up, suddenly breathing again.

His hand brushes your face. His own thumb tentatively brushing across the bridge of your nose.

“Please date me.”

You’re pretty certain he’ll cry for real if you say no.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Male Reader X 141 boyfriends (individually) where he has a pet wolf and the rest of 141 reacts to it on and off the field

Also can it be a BIG ass wolf too plzzzz?

(Super simple really lol)

141 x male reader

Headcanons

You said big wolf, so I made it a big wolf, big enough to ride on. I know this isn’t realistically possible, but I don’t care :)

You callsign in this is Lycan, because of the wolf lmao. It isn’t really mentioned but yeah.

John Price

-          Now Price added you to the 141 he had read in your file that you had a canine with you. He just assumed it was like any other dog that was in the military, imagine his surprise when you pull up with a wolf big enough to ride on.

-          It takes a good while to get used to the big wolf, which he learned it was and not a dog, especially when he sees it walking around on base at night, it almost gives the poor guy a heart attack.

-          At first, he would think it would be a disadvantage to have such a big animal with you on missions, but when the wolf turns out to be super useful during missions, he will change his mind.

-          He acts all tough, but you’ve caught him petting and cuddling your wolf more and once, but you have a mutual agreement to never mention what you saw to anyone.

 Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

-          Gaz had no idea how to react to the huge wolf you brought along, and he’s kinda nervous around it in the beginning but its mouth it big enough to rip someone’s head off. When he learns the wolf is friendly outside of missions though, he becomes close friends with your wolf.

-          He half heartedly complains about the dog hair everywhere, even though he’s the one cuddling your wolf and getting covered in the stuff.

-          Gaz would be kinda on edge for a little bit after the first time he sees your wolf rip a poor enemy soldier apart as if they were a chew toy. The cautiousness stays for a while though your wolf searching for cuddles with Gaz helps warm the man up to the canine again.

-          He takes pictures of your wolf all the time, he’s also the one who started calling you Lycan when you joined the team.

 Simon “Ghost” Riley

-          Ghost gives the vibe of the kind of guy who likes animals more than people, so he wouldn’t outwardly show it but he’s ecstatic when you show up with your wolf.

-          He would of course be cautious in the beginning because that’s a big animal that can easily kill a man and has military training, but when your wolf turns out to be pretty much harmless, he would allow himself to pet it when no one was looking.

-          At some point you notice how Ghost sticks around your wolf and finds comfort in its presence, so you offer to teach him the commands and how to fight closer alongside the wolf. In exchange he teaches you some of his moves too.

-          It becomes a thing that if your wolf isn’t with you, it’s with ghost during missions and outside missions. Ghost makes a horrifying picture walking around with your wolf, it only makes the legend of Ghost even greater.

-          He secretly carries treats for your wolf in his gear, not that he would ever tell anyone.

 John “Soap” MacTavish

-          I headcanon that soap hates dogs, this stems from him being attacked by dogs when he was younger and the fear just kinda stuck. So, when you rock up with a wolf the size of a horse, he doesn’t know what to do and almost just keels over right then and there.

-          Soap would avoid your wolf most of the time because of him not being super comfortable around them, so this would also mean the two of you wouldn’t bond as quickly as normal since you are typically around your wolf.

-          After your wolf saves his life during a mission, he grows a little more comfortable with your animal partner, though he still isn’t the biggest fan of being too close or touching.

-          As time goes on, he grows more comfortable and might even pet your wolf every now and then, though he isn’t all over their fur like some of the others are.

-          Soap sketches your wolf in his notebook every now and then since it’s a great reference.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 3

A/N: This fic is all vibes, no plot so it's hard to write lol. I have a few ideas now thanks to the wonderful @crocwork-clockodile and @hellfiredarling 💜

As usual, typos are fixed live and in post lol

Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. 

Part 1 Part 2

Steve did not show back up for at least a half hour after he ‘went to the bathroom’. Had you not been in your current situation, you would have made fun of him for being ‘backed up’ or something along those lines.

But in all honesty, you hardly even noticed that he was gone. When Eddie dropped the puck the world had faded into a whirlwind of clacking, yelling, and pitting children against each other. With the sudden death match, Dustin had won. You had taken Mike's place, giving him a condescending pat on the head. He hadn’t been pleased about the situation, but at least it kept him from saying whatever rule-grudge that he held against Eddie.

To your surprise, Eddie had stuck around to watch the match between you and Dustin. You tried not to be too nervous as the match went on, but your freshman friend was your saving grace even as he kicked your ass.

“Eddie’s been the leader of Hellfire for years now.” Dustin said, dropping the puck down and hitting it. “He’s always been the DM.”

“Except for Chris Morrison.” you said.

“Yeah except that guy.” Dustin nodded.

“He started the club, but I made it the merry band of bandits and misfits that it is today.” Eddie said, his hands resting against the side of the table, leaning forward. You’d only been chatting with him and Dustin for a few minutes, but you had quickly learned that Eddie was not the type to stay still for very long.

“You’re gonna get your finger smashed if you keep your hand there.” you said, glancing at how close his fingers were to the smooth surface of the rink. “You’re putting a lot of trust in geometry that this puck isn’t going to crush your hand. It’s already tried to kill me once.” You doubted that the heavy silver rings on his fingers would help at all.

Eddie looked down at his hands and pulled back, just in time for the puck to nearly hit where his fingers had been. “Shit, I didn’t even notice.”

“I notice everything.” You said, not noticing as Dustin smacked the puck at an angle that went directly into your goal. “I notice some things.”

Dustin laughed, and Eddie even grinned at the joke. With that point it was game set and match, or something like that.

“Alright, I’m going to go win some tickets now.” Dustin said, putting the clacker? Paddle? Not-Hockey Stick? Down. You still didn’t know what it was called, but luckily air hockey probably wouldn’t come up again later.

You expected Eddie to leave again, but instead he leaned back against the table, now free to let his fingers dangle without fear of being crushed.

“So you really were interested in Hellfire when you were still in school?” he asked, tilting his head over at you. That same distant and unreadable expression on his face. You really wished that you knew what he was thinking right now.

“Yeah, I saw you guys always having fun so I thought I wanted to try.” you said. “But, you know. Chris Morrison.”

“Forget about Chris Morrison.” Eddie turned towards you, standing upright and looking down at you. How did he feel so tall all of the sudden? How did he keep doing that? What magic switch was he able to turn on and off in his brain to make him go from ‘just a guy’ to ‘hey, I’m in charge here.’? “What made you have an interest in Dungeons and Dragons?”

“The dragons first, and then the dungeons.” It was the first thing that popped into your head, and you immediately realized it was maybe a little stupid and sarcastic. To be fair, you also were a little stupid and sarcastic, but with the way he was looking at you, Eddie wanted a real answer. The look on his face was actually a little funny, the way his whole face fell in annoyance.

Right, he didn’t know you. You didn’t know him. He was still trying to decide if you were some sort of friend or foe. You suspected that if Dustin hadn’t chatted with you so easily through your match with him Eddie wouldn’t have bothered talking to you more.

Maybe you should fire Steve and make Dustin your wing man instead.

He didn’t immediately leave though, which made you assume that you were being given a second chance to give him a real answer.

“Alright, I played a lot of make-believe as a kid.” you said. “Then as I got older, people stopped playing, but I wasn’t ready to be done. Then when I heard about this club where you could play make-believe again, I thought it would let me have that feeling again. I thought it’d be cool to, I don’t know, have people to play with again.”

It was a childish answer, but it was a real one. Everything in your life after middle school had been a steady monotonous stream of ‘work, home, work, school, home, school function, work, home’.

“Hellfire Club isn’t Make-Believe Club.” Eddie said, still staring you down. “Yeah, it’s a fantasy game but we take it seriously. It’s not all princesses and fairy tales.”

Actually, this guy might be getting on your nerves now.

“You’re taking my answer awful personally.” you said, straightening up under his gaze. You didn’t care how intimidating he was trying to be right now, he had pissed you off. “You asked why I wanted to play, I gave you my answer. You don’t have to like it, but there it is.”

He seemed taken aback by your bluntness. He blinked, his round eyes shifting to something else. “You’re right.” he said finally with a subtle laugh. “That was a dick thing to say. I really sounded like Chris Morrison for a second.”

“Yeah, you did.” you agreed. “You always this cynical about people?”

“Well, when you’re the town freak it comes with the title.” he shrugged.

“Does it come with a sash too? Or perhaps a crown?”

“No, unfortunately Hawkins High didn’t have that in the budget this year.”

“You should take that up with the student council.”

“Or City Hall.”

He was smiling at you now, and you hated how that smile was brighter than any of the flashing lights of the arcade. The longer you looked at him, the more attractive he got. God, you were going to kill Steve for delivering something you couldn’t have.

Eddie’s demeanor changed as you two bantered, no longer on edge now. Now that he seemed sure that you weren’t here to cause problems or were just looking to laugh at the freaks, his stance was much more relaxed. You looked him over again, taking advantage of his gaze drifting to where two other members were hunched over an arcade cabinet.

He had long wavy brown hair, and you tried to place how you could have missed that in school. Surely you would have remembered someone like him, right? It felt so much like you were missing something, but you couldn’t place where you knew him. It was going to drive you insane.

“So it looks like I’m done here.” You jumped as Steve appeared behind you. You looked over at him, your face reading with panic at the idea of him ditching out on you now. Yeah, things were going a lot better without him here, and he had not been very helpful-

Okay, maybe he didn’t need to be here to help with your attempt to flirt but you still weren’t exactly eager to be left alone.

Eddie looked between the two of you and you turned to Eddie. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna see him off.” You said.

“Right, yeah.” Eddie nodded. He was on his guard again and you felt bad that Steve’s presence caused that.

Eddie and Steve looked at each other, a tension between the two of them. For five full seconds they just stared at each other with you in the middle, wondering what the actual fuck was going on.

That’s when Eddie threw up his hands over his hand in an imitation of horns and sputtered at Steve who was immediately taken aback. It was so out of left field, and you let out a laugh before covering your mouth and grabbing Steve and dragging him away towards the entrance.

“What was that about?” you asked as you two stepped outside. “And where the hell were you for the past half hour?”

“I was giving you space because you weren’t going to get anywhere with me around.” Steve said, looking back over his shoulder. Eddie had disappeared into the arcade with his club. “He really does live up to his nickname.”

“Nickname? You’re trying to set me up with a high schooler with a nickname?” You sighed.

“Yeah, and you were basically drooling over him the whole time you were talking so, you know, you’re welcome about that.” Steve said. “Everyone called him a freak in school so, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about being the town freak.” you said. “Why’s he a freak exactly?”

Steve tilted his head, as if he couldn’t tell if you were joking or serious. “He runs a club called Hellfire, plays that weird game you and Dustin keep talking about, and just- look at him! With the long hair and the chains and metal patches.”

“According to you, I was looking at him.” you snorted. “So he plays games and dresses differently and has taste in music. Doesn’t make him a freak.”

“Right, I forgot you’re a total weirdo who’d be into that.”

“He was your idea!”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. All the things that he would have found off putting to him in high school now seemed to parallel and fit with someone who he now considered a close friend. He’d been wrong about a lot in the past year, maybe he’d been wrong about Eddie too.

“So are you gonna actually flirt with him when I leave or are you just gonna stand there and make small talk?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “I introduced you two, at least tell me you’re going to put in the effort.”

You winced and glanced back to the arcade, you couldn’t see Eddie but you knew he was still in there.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Steve gawked at you. “This whole thing was your idea and you’re not even going to try?”

“Listen, Steve, I like him. I do. That’s the problem. You actually hit the nail on the head, and he is absolutely my type.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not his type.” you admitted. “See, I know guys like Eddie. I’ve fallen for guys like Eddie. Funny thing about a lot of male weirdos, freaks, and outcasts, is that they still loooove themselves some popular girls. Girls like that love them because they’re trying to either fix them or piss off their parents. Freak guys don’t like weirdo girls.”

“You’re being the biggest dingus in the world and I think you’re full of shit.” Steve said bluntly. “Nice try, but you’re gonna go in there and flirt with him. Did he actually say that he was into that type?”

“Well, no but-”

“But nothing!” Steve sighed. “Listen, you’re cute, okay? I’ve seen what you look like when you’re not at work.” He gestured to your outfit. “If I took you to a party or a bar I’d be able to help you get at least six numbers by the end of the night.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “So why are you so bent out of shape about Eddie?”

“Because you’re picky, and you’re my friend.” It was a surprisingly nice sentiment. “I’m fine dating around while I figure out what I want, but you’re not the same. You need someone who is going to understand what you’re talking about, and he is the only person in Hawkins who would also bite a head off a bat.”

“You know, everyone wants to talk about how Ozzy bit the head off a bat but no one wants to talk about how that whole thing actually happened-” you started.

“Nope. Not me. Don’t tell me, tell him.” Steve cut you off. “I should be telling you that talking about biting animal heads is not the best way to flirt but he might be into it. Just promise me you’ll at least try okay?”

Steve gave you a pleading look, and you couldn’t say no. You didn’t have the heart to. He was right, you’d given up before you’d even tried. Steve went out of his way to hand pick a potential date for you, someone he never would have even bothered talking to before. You had to try.

You breathed in the cool night air deeply, holding it before exhaling slowly. “Alright, I’ll try.” you promised.

“I expect you to tell me everything tomorrow!” Steve said as he started walking towards the parking lot you found yourself following him, your body reacting to all the times you two had parked next to each other at work.

“Yeah, yeah, you get first dibs on any kiss and tell!” you shot back. “After the details you gave me from your dates, I promise I’ll be worse.”

Steve pulled you in and gave you a hug, and you squeezed him tightly in return. You never would have thought that Steve Harrington of all people would end up such a good friend, but you were glad he was there. You two said your goodbyes before he got into his car. You waited until he’d pulled safely out of the parking lot before turning back into the arcade.

Just go in there, crash the Hellfire Club meeting again, and shamelessly flirt with Eddie Munson. Three things, that’s all you needed to do.

You pushed the doors of the arcade open and walked back inside.

You wander around the arcade.

You’re alone.

Shit.

There was no sign of Eddie or any of the Hellfire Club. You were completely alone in the arcade now and there was a pang in your stomach. You had told Eddie you’d be right back, but he was gone. Maybe your comment about still wanting to play had totally fucked over your chance to talk to him more after all.

You made your way back outside, just in time to see a van peel out of the parking lot. Your eyes widened when you saw Dusting looking out the window with an apologetic look and mouthing what you assumed to be the word “Sorry”.

Eddie must have gathered up the club to go somewhere else. You wanted to be fine, you wanted to shrug it off as you had every other time you’d failed to impress a guy, but you felt disappointed. Really disappointed. Sure you’d only talked to the guy for a half hour, most of which was spent talking trash as you all played air hockey, but you’d had fun. More fun than you’d had in a while with a guy, Steve notwithstanding.

It felt like Chris Morrison all over again.

You sighed to yourself and made your way to the car. Of course the second you wanted to try you ended up alone again.

Well, that killed it for tonight. You pushed the rejection out of your mind and made your way back to your own car, thinking about how you were going to tell Steve that you’d blown your chance.

Eddie Munson didn’t know what to make of the fact that Steve Harrington of all people was at the arcade. Popular? Played sports? Someone like him didn’t hang around at the arcade, not under any normal circumstances. The only thing that made sense about him being there was that he was with a girl, one that didn’t match up with the normal type that someone like Steve should be dating.

He had planned on avoiding Steve, choosing to focus on his club rather than antagonize the former king of Hawkins high. Really, he did. But then that shrimp Henderson had made his way over to Steve and his date. The kid already talked about Steve too much as it was, always going on about how cool he was while also dodging questions about how the two had met and become friends. Eddie had long since given up on asking about it, not that he cared. Not that he was jealous that the kid he was growing to see like a little brother already had another older male friend in his life.

That wasn’t Eddie’s style.

But this was Hellfire Club, and Eddie wasn’t about to lose another member to the dark side. Dustin had been looking forward to this rare gathering of the club outside of school, more than usual actually. He’d been wearing that same shit eating grin he always did when he was about to pull some bullshit at the table. Now Eddie knew why.

This little shit was trying to introduce him to Steve. Dustin talked Steve up so much, and now he just happened to be here on a date the same time as Sidequest Day? That was too convenient. Eddie shouldn’t have been surprised that Dustin was trying to bridge his friends together, but he was.

So, when Eddie saw Dustin watching Steve and his date chatting and playing Q*bert, he could have ignored the bait. He should have ignored the bait. But then Chris Morrison’s name was mentioned, and curiosity got the best of him.

Plus how could he ever resist talking shit about Chris Morrison.

So he walked up to the group, fully prepared to make agonzing small talk with Steve for thirty seconds before dragging Henderson away to focus on the real reason he was there. It wasn’t often that everyone had the time or money to come to the arcade like this, and Eddie had been lucky enough to make a special sale that day to some senior from the art department. He didn’t often have spending money for something like the arcade. He’d prefer to go to the movies or get his supply from Rick or buy anything to maintain his guitars, or upkeep of his van. Arcade time with Hellfire was something that happened once a semester at best, with the promise of him giving out advantages during the campaign he was running.

“Henderson is right. Morrison was the biggest asshole that Hellfire has ever seen. Worst DM too.” Eddie said, glancing between Dustin with a warning glare and Steve with a weary look.

He didn’t expect you, the girl playing the cabinet, to be the one to speak up. You knew Chris? This night kept getting weirder. When Eddie turned to Steve, to ask about what he was doing at the arcade, just to appease Dustin, Steve directed his attention back to you.

That made more sense, Steve Harrington wouldn’t be at an arcade on a Saturday night unless there was a girl involved.

When you turned around to face him, he noticed the way your eyes looked him down and up quickly. That was something he was used to with most people in Hawkins. They’d size him up just so that they could try and tear down the freak. There was a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite catch before it turned into one of... disappointment? Discomfort? Shit, it was all the same to him.

Dustin made quick introductions of everyone, and Eddie was surprised when you offered your hand so easily despite the look in your eyes. Well, at least you were polite. It hadn’t even been two minutes and Eddie was already itching to get back to spending time with his club rather than crashing whatever meeting Dustin had clearly planned here.

But he’d be polite, humor the kid for just a second. If Dustin wanted him to meet Steve, then Eddie would be the contrarian and make small talk with his date instead.

You two would have graduated the same year, had Eddie not been held back. Yeah, it was starting to come back to him. He remembered you.

And that was enough of socializing with the upper class for the night. Eddie started directing Dustin back to club activities before Steve spoke up again.

“So, my friend here actually had an interest in Hellfire Club back in the day.”

It could have been left at that, but Eddie was getting more and more irritated over this situation. He looked at you, who looked like a deer in the headlights. Of course, Dustin might have seen something in Steve but he was no different now than he was back then.

“Really?” Eddie said. “And what about our little club was so interesting to you?”

He shot a glare to Steve, but looked down at you with a frown. You’d always seemed nice at school, but he’d made that mistake before. Eddie always liked the groups that kept to themselves and didn’t whisper behind his back or cause trouble for his friends. It was a shame he had been wrong about you.

But when you answered awkwardly about asking Chris to join, there was something in the way you spoke that was genuine. Either you were a really good actress, or you were being serious about it. Eddie might have been the biggest cynic in Hawkins, but he always did have a weakness to cute girls.

The conversation fizzled out quickly, and as much as Eddie didn’t mind talking to you he still wasn’t interested in crashing your date or getting to know Steve at this time. Not when his club started going wild across the room as Lucas was scoring big at a game.

So he turned around and left the two of you alone, running off to see what the jackpot prize was that Lucas had claimed.

For about ten minutes everything went back to normal. He was in the middle of an intense racing game against Jeff, when suddenly he heard Dustin screaming for him, causing his car to spin out and lose spectacularly.

Tonight was not going well at all for Eddie Munson.

Pushing down his irritation, he could hear it in Henderson’s voice that he was about to start trouble again. Of course as he made his way over to the hockey table, there you and Steve were again. Great. Eddie was so excited to be the third wheel during his club’s meet up.

But then Steve disappeared to take a shit. Well, he didn’t say that exactly but it made Eddie feel better to think of Steve having a miserable time in the bathroom. Jealous? No. Not at all.

Maybe a little.

You didn’t seem to like that Steve had left you, and Eddie figured you were uncomfortable without your date around. Dustin only ever talked Steve up, but had never mentioned you to his knowledge.

When the puck went flying towards your face a moment later, Eddie’s eyes widened with shock as you caught it with a laugh. The way you spoke to Wheeler and Henderson was familiar, as if you’d met them before. How did they know you? You were cuter when you were laughing with his friends.

As Eddie watched the chaos of you bantering with his freshmen, his mind wandered to what you would have looked like in the darkness of the prop department wearing the Hellfire shirt. With how easily you got along with Henderson and Wheeler he was sure you would have fit in.

Damn Chris Morrison and damn Steve Harrington.

He snapped out of his thoughts when you spoke up, a glint in your eyes as you handed over the puck.

“What say you, Eddie of Hellfire?” The way you spoke to him, a hint of a laugh in your voice but not in the normal mocking way he’d hear from others at school, made him break out into an unabashed grin as he took the puck.

“Sudden death it is.”

Making small talk with you was easy, and it wasn’t long until Eddie had forgotten about Steve completely as Dustin decided to bridge the gap between the two of you. You were the assistant manager at Family Video, had helped Dustin and Mike with homework on occasion, and were a regular at the Rocky Horror Picture Show that played at the seedy theater on the outskirts of town.

Eddie was starting to like you more the more the three of you chatted. When the topic od D&D came back up, your answer had struck a chord with him.

“I wasn’t done playing.”

Those words would tumble around in the back of his mind for the rest of the evening. They had been honest, raw words. There was a weight to them that he’d carried himself for a long time. Growing up with Al Munson didn’t exactly give him the idyllic childhood that one would see in movies or tv. Play time wasn’t exactly a priority when you were just trying to fucking survive.

He’d challenged your answer, when he knew in his cynical heart that he was the same. Between Hellfire and his band, there wasn’t much else he had going for personal enjoyment. Of course there was time to hang out with his friends and the occasional odd night where he crashed at Rick’s place when his home with Wayne felt too small or cramped.

Eddie wanted to ask you what you’d play, if you ever did have a chance to join a campaign. He wondered if you enjoyed fantasy the same way he did, if you were a fighter, a spell caster, or a healer.

Then Steve showed back up.

Right, you were here with Steve on a date. A date that had way too much fiber and had probably exploded the toilet while he left you hanging for going on forty minutes now. And now Harrington decided that the date was over? Jesus, this guy didn’t know what he was missing out on. Eddie felt for you, he’d been on his share of bad dates in the past too, and bad nights that he wished were dates.

He shook the image of Paige out of his head.

You gave him a smile as you said goodbye. Well, you said you’d be back in a moment but Eddie knew that the night was over. You walked out of the Arcade with Steve, and that would be that.

Sidequest day was always short, with limited spending money between members and the machines eating quarters like candy. Soon his little sheepies were gathered around him again, talking about their winnings and who deserved to get some sort of perk for the game. It was almost unanimously decided that it would go to Lucas, after he’d nearly broken the basketball machine from how fast he had been throwing balls.

Eddie still had a bill burning a hole in his pocket, having spent more time talking to you than playing games. He had to get this weird night out of his mind, and turned towards the group, knowing that he was going to regret this.

“Whoever has any money left, pool it in I’ll take us to get pizza.” He said. This was followed by cheers and a scrambling of pulling out loose quarters, dimes, and even a five that Gareth forgot he had in his wallet. Eddie lead them all towards the parking lot, his eyes scanning the parking lot for you.

You and Steve were chatting by his car and laughing the same way that you had laughed with him before Steve pulled you into a tight hug. Maybe your date wasn’t a bust after all. Eddie didn’t know why he cared, this was only the third time you’d met. You didn’t know him.

Dustin nudged Eddie, that same smug grin on his face.

“Pretty fun night, huh, Eddie?” he said.

“Your plan didn’t work, shrimp.” Eddie said. “I know you were trying to set something up and I’m not interested.”

Dustin looked surprised, and looked like he was going to argue but a sharp glare from Eddie shut him up. Eddie never had an interest in meeting Steve, and it was clear Steve felt the same way, going so far as to ditch his date to hide in the bathroom the whole time. Eddie didn’t know what the kid saw in Harrington but Eddie was less than impressed.

“Geeze, sorry.” Dustin sighed. “I thought you two would get along.”

“You know, a little humility wouldn’t hurt you.” Eddie said before grabbing his shoulder. “Next time you decide I have to meet someone, don’t make it during Hellfire, mk?”

Dustin looked disappointed but nodded as everyone piled illegally in the back of Eddie’s van. As long as Eddie didn’t drive like a madman (a difficult feat) it would be safe enough. He’d put the seats down to haul equipment years ago, and never could get them to come back up. He could fix it if he wanted, but there was never a real reason to.

As everyone got settled, Dustin looked over at Mike with a shrug. The two of them had thought that things were going well between the two of you, but the look in Eddie’s eyes had said otherwise now.

“Maybe she just wasn’t his type?” Mike said, as the rest of the club chatted. “Eddie doesn’t really talk about those things anyway. Maybe he doesn’t even want a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see the way they were talking. Even if he wasn’t into her like that, they were still getting along.” Dustin sighed and shifted to look out the window as Eddie started up the van. Everyone in the back held on for dear life as Eddie started out of the parking lot.

As they passed your car, Dustin caught your eye just as you stepped out looking dejected.

“Sorry” Dustin mouthed to you.

It had been a bust tonight, but something felt off. Why would Eddie have such a clearly good time talking to you, just to turn around and say he wasn’t interested?

Dustin made a mental note to drop into Family Video tomorrow to talk to you and Steve.

Part 4

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated

Comments and reblogs help me know that y'all read and enjoy it, which feeds my excitement to write!

[lolchicsa]

Dirty, filthy fun

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, wall sex, ‘princess’ pet name, mask stays on, thigh fucking, fingering, slight orgasm denial

Part 2 of 2: smut! Part 1 here

No use of y/n

Loosely follows the events of the ‘Alone’ mission. Reader’s vacation was ruined by Shadow Company going on a genocidal rampage :( But fear not dear reader! Mr Ghost is here to make it better ;P

A/N: First time using Tumblr to post stories and using mobile to write this. First time writing smut so I’m taking inspiration from other authors.

A few weeks had passed by since I first met Ghost. Trust me when I say this, a lot has happened in those few weeks. In that time, I received a crash course to bring me up to speed. It include anything and everything I needed to know about the current situation I was in.

Ghost had met up with Soap that night, and we made it to a safe house outside of town. That’s how I met Rodolfo. He was kind enough to give me the comfortable bed for the first couple days. Soap had gone on a tangent seconds after introducing himself. The Shadow’s had betrayed them, took some of their men hostage and placed them in a heavily fortified prison.

The hatred these men have for Graves is understandable. One night, they left on a mission and I was asked to stay behind. So I was left alone at the safe house to wander. I didn’t mind feeling useless in that situation, I would’ve been a burden if I did go. The mission was successful, but now the house is overcrowded.

I stuck with Ghost the majority of the time. When he was around, that is. He didn’t seem bothered by my presence which encouraged me to stick around. We would make small talk with each other when no one else was around. Ghost doesn’t like to talk about his past… or anything significant to him. I had asked about the mask once… he ignored me when I asked so I didn’t push further.

Gaz and Price are part of the same task force as Ghost and Soap. At least that’s what I heard. Price was definitely a father figure to the rest of them. It was quite fun hanging out with all of them and hear them banter with each other.

Together, along with the Mexican Special forces, they successfully raided their previous base and took control again. Soap had to fight of a tank that Graves was driving. He does not shut up about that, whilst Ghost didn’t talk about the mission at all.

A party was held that night to celebrate the team’s success. Drinking and loud laughter was involved. Ghost had wandered off almost immediately to a more secluded part of the base. I followed of course, couldn’t leave the big man alone after such a day. He seemed surprised when I walked into his space that night. We decided to go on a walk outside and marvel at the beautiful sky over Las Alma’s.

Price had filled me in on their plan the next day and how they will get me back on American soil unharmed. They were heading to Chicago… presumably to kill someone. I hadn’t asked what the mission was about, to worried about leaving Ghost. We became close friends in the limited time we knew one another. It was weird, but I loved being in his presence.

“I’m going to miss you” Ghost and I took up a room in the base, far away from anyone else. I had dragged him here to talk and he was kind enough to oblige. Today was the last day before we moved out. I would miss Ghost the most, I hated the idea of never seeing him again.

“You’ll manage without me” came his gravely voice. It was deep, music to my ears and, with the accent, it made my knees weak. It was fair to say I gathered quite the attraction to Ghost in the limited time we’ve know each other. I would think of him at night, my hand between my legs and recall the night we met.

My fantasies were varied when it comes to Ghost. Dreaming of him fucking me against a wall was my favourite. I guess it had something to do with how we met, I could never forget the way he held me back then. Sometimes, I imagined riding him until we are both a moaning mess of sweat and pleasure. If I ever were to hear him moan, I swear I would go insane.

“I don’t think I can go back to living my life like before. Now that I’ve met you, I don’t want to leave your side. I… I like you… a lot.” My eyes dropped to stare at the floor, scared to see his reaction to my confession. Nervousness flooded my veins, I started picking at my nails to remain sane. I could feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, I could feel his stare.

My thoughts drifted back to the night we met. How he had me pinned to a wall faster then my mind could process his presence. I wanted it to happen again, just under different circumstances. What would he look like without his gear on? What would he feel like?

My back was pressed to the wall behind me, my breath hitched in anticipation. He was there, giving me exactly what I wanted. Our close proximity was euphoric, the feel of his breath on my face was all I could focus on. I closed my eyes, memorizing the feel of his body pressed against mine.

“Is this really what you want? For me to fuck you against this wall? Have you moaning out my name over and over again? I can do that for you princess. Tell me” he said, using his hand to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. Eyes flared with lust stared into mine, I felt trapped in the best way possible. He was like a beast, ready to rip me apart and fill me with pleasure.

“Yes… yes I want you to make me scream”

My voice was uneven, trembling with anticipation. Ghost, the beast of a man I have learned to adore, took in a long breath. Staring at me with hooded eyes, his hands landed on my waist first. The heat they brought with them was so delicious, I was getting addicted to it. I took hold of his hands and guided them beneath my shirt.

In seconds, he had my shirt off and his hands were slowly tracing the exposed skin of my waist. His touch was gentle, like he was memorizing the softness of my body. For someone who believes he can’t be soft, Ghost definitely fits the soft lover type… at least for now. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his adventurist hands, leading a way downwards. This softness of his is amazing, but my patience was running thin. I wanted his cock, balls deep in me now, fucking me against the wall like in my fantasy. I want to scream his name for the base to hear.

So I took matter’s in my own hands, shoving my pants down along with my drenched panties, bra following soon after. Ghost had backed away from me, heavy gaze drifting over my body. “Beautiful” escaped his lips before his eyes snapped back to mine. He held my gaze as he started to strip as well. “A little eager are we princess?” he teased, shirt discarded to the floor. A quiet chuckle followed his words, flowing through his mask. I wonder if he will let me see his face?

His warmth filled my personal space once more, his hard muscles pressed against my soft breasts. Our breaths mingled together, adding to the euphoria. My mind couldn’t believe this handsome man agreed to this. I could feel his arousal pressing against my stomach. Tall fucker, he is. Firm and muscular as well. Fuck… he’s perfect.

“Tell me what you want princess”

“I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow”

That’s all I had to say to make him go feral. He gripped my waist, forcing me into the wall. His head dipped to rest on my shoulder as he spread my legs apart with his knee. His still clothed knee, which was soaking up my arousal. I couldn’t help but grind against it, feeding my growing need. A sigh escaped my lips at the pleasure caused by such a simple action.

One of Ghost’s hands slipped from my waist, going for my sensitive clit. The small pressure he applied had me moaning loudly. My hips bucked against his hand, craving the friction. I could feel the drenched fabric under me. The feeling was exquisite and I never wanted it to end. My head tilted back against the wall as I closed my eyes, only focusing on the back and forth movement of my pussy against Ghost’s thigh while he played with my sensitive nub.

“Bloody hell, you’re so wet for me” he whispered in my ear, making a whimpering moan escape my lips. His grip on my waist stilled my attempts to breed with his leg. I let a whimper escape, un-pleased by the sudden loss of friction. Before I could utter a word, his fingers were at my entrance, pushing in and giving me another wave of pleasure.

“Fuck… Ghost…” I didn’t know what I was trying to say, just wanted him to keep going. A chuckle came from him while his fingers reached deeper. Wet sounds emitted from my hole, his fingers moving in and out at a slow pace. I became a moaning mess in seconds. He was skilled with his hands, that was for sure. A pressure started building in my stomach, thoughts going numb. His fingers picked up speed and hit a spot I didn’t know existed.

“Fuck yes! Yes! Ghost!” I couldn’t help but moan out his name from the pleasure he was giving me. His fingers drove in and out at an ungodly speed, fucking me closer to my orgasm. “So close! Fuck!” My legs turned to jelly, my arms flinging themselves around Ghost so I could hold on for dear life. I was close to heaven, so close… then he stopped.

It was like he knew I was about to go over the edge, touch nirvana and be filled with pleasure. I couldn’t believe it, what the fuck? My mind was still fussy when I realized what Ghost was up too. He had me firmly pressed against the wall, my legs still parted by force. But he also had his cock in his hand, using my juices to lube himself nicely.

I barely had time to admire his length before it disappeared from view. His dick was at my entrance in seconds, stretching me perfectly. A loud cry of his name left my throat while he slowly pushed in. He felt so good, filling my insides just right. It felt so right being held like this and fucked against a wall.

“Fuck, you’re tight princess” Ghost whispered, slightly out of breath. He started moving immediately after, slowly pushing in and out. We both groaned in unison, enjoying the shared pleasure each other gives. The feeling of Ghost between my legs had me clinging to him for dear life. My nails dug into his back, almost drawing blood.

A loud moan escaped Ghost, making a shiver run down my spine. The sound bounced off the walls as I memorized his beauty. His pace quickened as tears started forming in my eyes. The wall made it impossible to arch my back the way I wanted it too, but Ghost was already hitting that sweet spot without my help. My previously denied orgasm came back full force, pressure building once again.

“Fuck! Ghost… I’m gonna c…”

“Simon”

His voice cut through my sentence. I couldn’t quite make out what it meant. The rhythmic sway of his thrust started to fall apart. He was close too, I could feel it.

“My name is Simon, princess” He said between breaths, a moan following soon after. We were moments away from reaching our tipping points and I couldn’t be happier that he entrusted me with his real name. Simon, what a beautiful name.

“Simon!” A loud cry of euphoria soon follow the name of the man before me. It hit like a freight train, my body thoroughly enjoying the release he gave me. Simon soon followed me over the edge, coating my insides with thick ropes of his seed. In that moment, everything was perfect. I forgot about the last couple weeks, I forgot about the stress.

My body was numb, I would be on the ground if it weren’t for Ghost. We stood still, both trying to catch our breath’s before doing anything else. There was an unspoken truth shared between us, it was the best sex either of us had in a long time.

I would happily give my life away if it meant I could stay with Ghost and do this again.

[jxsterr]

IM HAVING MORE POST TOTK THOUGHTS YOUR HONOUR

one main thing i was thinking about was what if zelda still had some of her dragon instincts

- it’s ironic bc of their joint fear of falling but i could 100% imagine zelda getting REALLY into launching herself out of skyview towers just to glide through the air and freefall

- dragon to adrenaline junkie arc

- zelda’s the type to learn how to do tricks mid-air

- watch her do a spin n shit

- link catches wind (haha) of her new fascination with freefalling and takes her back to courage island

- glider set on. her first few attempts have awful times bc she’s too busy having the time of her life spinning around in the air

- she tries again and beats link’s time now that she’s actually trying. he’s stuck between offended and impressed

- link tries to beat her time and fails. she goes up and beats her record Again to rub it in his face

- the steward construct attempts to pat his back

- zelda loses her absolute MIND when link conjures up a stonewing and starts attaching fans and a steering stick to it

- ignoring game’s mechanics that it disappears after a while bc again LAZY idea

- zelda clinging to him from behind when they first take off (she waves the construct goodbye tho)

- once she’s gained confidence she dangles her legs over the ledge and takes in the views

- “these places feel familiar for some reason..” “really?”

- he’s flying her along her old path as a dragon

- zelda takes a thousand more photos of the views ofc. she had recently begged robbie to upgrade her storage for this exact reason

- she’s closing her eyes to focus on the feeling of the wind whipping past her and she feels nothing but Alive

- link definitely takes her flying whenever she’s burnt out from the school and in a bit of a funk to cheer her up. she always comes back with a grin on her face

- I STRONGLY BELIEVE IN THE WHOLE ZELDA FEELING A STRANGE WANT TO BE NEAR THE OTHER DRAGONS FROM HER TIME AS A DRAGON

- her path literally intermingles with all of the other dragons u can’t tell me they don’t all have some cool dragon connection to each other or something

- link flying alongside naydra but far enough that they don’t get frozen so zelda can be close

- naydra feels like an old friend.. why does she feel like an old friend??

- link shows her photos her took with her when she was a dragon and she almost cries again

- he was with her even when she couldn’t talk or even acknowledge he was there?? she’s a blubbering mess

- link’s panicking oh my god why is she crying no wait don’t cry oh god

- “how often did you visit me??” “daily.”

- she’s sobbing

- link decides to hold back on telling her about how he weaved silent princesses into her mane for the sake of both of them

- she finds the photo anyway and silently hugs him for like 10 minutes bc she can’t find it in her to pull away

- link takes her to north lomei labyrinth and they fall all the way from the sky to the depths

- zelda’s laughing wildly and yelling about how fun this is the whole time and link’s just happy to see her smiling

- you can’t tell me that these two wouldn’t become just a Little impulsive in their off time and do shit like this constantly

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

Hi! I had this idea stuck in my head for a while. What if Miss Thornhill forced the reader to go against Wednesday when she realized that the reader had feelings for her?

A/N: I dunno if this quite hits your request, but it kinda ran away from me at a point lol

Wednesday x GN!Reader

Groans echo in the small room. Sweat soaked your clothes and shackles bruised your wrists. All you could do was listen to the thuds of red boots as they pace the floor.

"You're more stubborn than I thought." Thornhill fills another vial of whatever she was torturing you with. "I know you know more than you're telling me."

"I'm telling you all I know," you cry out. "Wednesday doesn't see me as a confidant." You grunt in pain as she kicks you.

"I thought I told you to get closer to her. You like her don't you? It should be easy."

A soft sob slips out and Thornhill slips into her motherly persona.

"Oh honey. It'll all be worth it in the end. I'll even spare Wednesday her life so you can have her." She sticks a needle in your neck and empties its contents. "But maybe this will remind you that I won't accept failure anymore.

Pain sinks into your veins as the poison takes effect. Screams echo, making the walls rattle. Thornhill leaves you thrashing on the ground and you black out in agony.

-----+++++-----

When you come back to consciousness, you're trudging towards your dorm room at Nevermore. It isn't clear how you made it here. You were just on autopilot. Whatever Thornhill shot in you still pulsed in your veins. The pain, while dulled immensely, still ripped through your body. You just hope you didn't run into anyone before you made it to your room.

Of course, your luck was shit recently.

The one person you especially wanted to avoid rounded the corner and dark eyes pierced through you. You could only manage a weak grimace in greeting.

"H-hey, Wednesday."

The goth watches your posture. The way you used the wall to hold up the near entirety of your weight. The sweat raining down your face from exertion. The way your breathing makes your entire body heave. After some silence, the girl turns around and goes back the way she came. You let out a sigh of relief only to see Wednesday come back with Enid in tow.

"Carry them to our room," she commands. "Something is going on and I intend on finding out."

"Did you really just bring me here to be the muscle?"

The withering glare sent her way answers Enid's question and she picks you up with an apology. You're far too weak to even resist.

You find yourself in Enid's and Wednesday's shared room. On Wednesday's own bed no less. The wolf whines softly and looks at you worriedly while Wednesday tries to deduce what was wrong with you. It takes a while, but you manage to get the strength back to say more than two words.

"It's poison that was injected straight into my veins." You lean your head to show the needle prick on your neck. "I was tortured. Been getting tortured."

"By who? And why?"

Your mouth opens to answer Wednesday. You try, but nothing comes out. Only a groan triggered by memories of your pain. Your body begins to writhe from the phantom pains. You feel a cold compress on your forehead. Thing was gently taking care to calm you down. It takes only a few moments for you to calm down.

"Enid, Thing. Leave us alone."

Both look at Wednesday before slowly leaving. Once the door closes, the goth's attention immediately presses onto you. Your fear of more torture makes you shake uncontrollably. Wednesday was capable of so much and you were terrified to become another victim. Tears start to fall from your eyes.

"P-please... I don't want to hurt again..."

Wednesday's eyes soften slightly at the sight of you. She was used to seeing you more upbeat. You would often invade her space just to be near. For some reason, you liked having her around and she had gotten used to it. Seeing you like this was abnormal. She didn't like it one bit.

Recently, the goth noticed you trying to keep your distance, yet also involve yourself in her investigations. While she appreciated your help, the constant push and pull made you suspicious to her. One way or another, she'll figure out why.

You felt a hand on your forehead before it starts running down your hair. You stifle a cry. Wednesday's voice, though soft, cuts through to you.

"I don't intend to hurt you, Y/N. Whether you tell me what you know or not." She pulls her chair closer to you. "Priority right now is your well being."

She continues her ministrations and it soothes you. You still didn't trust your voice, but you wanted to help Wednesday. Even with all the torture you suffered, you would push back against Ms. Thornhill until the end. With a wince, you slowly reach into a hidden pocket in your jacket and pull out a vial of blue liquid. Wednesday stops her hand and widens her eyes.

"That's nightshade. Why do you have it?"

You hand her the vial. Taking deep breaths, you pushed through to answer.

"I was supposed to use it on you. To get you out of the way. At least after getting your blood."

"My blood?" You nodded.

"I don't know why, I swear. That's all I was told." Tears start to fall again as fear of punishment engulfs you again. Wednesday moves to soothe you again.

"I believe you. Do you know who did this?" Another nod.

"I-it was Ms. Thornhill." Even saying her name aloud made you shiver. "She found out about my feelings for you. Wanted to use it to get to you."

That news surprised Wednesday. You had feelings for her? Everything makes sense now. All of your actions come to the forefront of her mind as she analyzes your relationship with her. Her face hardens when a new goal is added to her list.

"We will talk about those... Feelings at another time." She softly caresses your cheek. "For now, rest. And I will make sure Thornhill pays for what she did to you."

For the first time in a long while, you smile. Wednesday will surely be true to her word.

[phyrestartr]

The Starved King [Miguel x M!Reader]

(King!Miguel x Knight!Reader)

Note: Just a drabble that I want to throw out into the universe while I consider how to continue it lol I like the idea, I just don't want to dwell on it too much and get stuck in analysis paralysis 🫠 lmk if you'd like to see me continue this!!

Miguel found you. Amidst the plethora of flashy royals, he somehow managed to pick you out of the crowd–that handsome face, a fox-like smile, dragon-fire eyes all rang true in his memories of dying and bleeding on the battlefield until a young knight from a cursed kingdom chose to spare him instead of spear. 

Memories curled around him in the same way your fingers once did, buzzing with something rich and sinful that'd mend his wounds over the coming weeks left in that war-wrecked cottage. Miguel, the enemy king, was so close to death, yet you, injured and exhausted yourself, kept him breathing.

“Why do this?” Miguel asked one night while you busied with the fire, working whatever magics you had to make the flame dance. 

“Why do what?” You wondered, not looking away from the glow. 

“Keep me alive.” Miguel coughed and winced. Still, he forced himself to sit, and earned the sharp snap of your gaze on him. 

“You shouldn't–”

“I'll keep what dignity I have left,” Miguel scoffed. Then, sitting back against the wall, he got a good look at you; it seemed you’d run into some trouble with a knife, so suggested the long streaks of red tearing across your young face. A sword would have taken your head clean off. You wore typical armour of a knight from your kingdom, yet the flash of a muddied brooch caught his attention a moment before you looked away from him and back at the fire. 

“Where are you from?” The tired king asked. 

“Does it matter where I hail from? Right now, we’re two men simply trying to survive, yes?” You jabbed at the fire with a half-burnt stick. “I’m not interested in being a king-killer, so you needn’t worry; in fact, be glad it was I who found you and not one of my beastly brothers. They’d have had your head strapped to their horse in a second.” Your accent was foreign, not one that he could say was even a bit familiar. It struck his nerves as much as it piqued his interest further. 

“Then you come from a damned kingdom.” 

“A rightfully damned one, yes. Small. Unremarkable. Yet still hated, or perhaps just feared.”

“Most wouldn’t say that about their home.” Miguel adjusted his posture and took a moment to take a look at his wounds: bandaged torso, splinted leg, a splinted arm. Fantastic. “Unless you despise your people.”

“Oh please, I don’t despise my people,” you spat, eyes growing fierce and venomous. “They’re just people. Peasants. Workers. The poor, the hungry, the needy–the people are subjected to the idiocy of greedy elders and mislead ways. The queen wants to change things, and yet–” You took a deep breath and rubbed your face. “And yet things cannot change as they are. More time is needed. Until then, we participate in useless battles with your ilk. To, what, prove something? To show our might?”

“Killing a king would turn the tide,” Miguel said. He really shouldn’t have. That one statement might have changed your mind, might have ended his life and shirked the responsibility of a kingdom to his daughter. 

“Do you want me to kill you?”

“No, I–”

“Then shut up. Your blabbering isn’t useful.” 

“I just–if your kingdom is in such a state, then why–”

“I don’t want to.” 

Ah. 

“Kill-shy?” Miguel asked with a slight smirk. “Doesn’t seem very righteous of you.” 

“Excuse me?” Your face, suddenly animated and brimming with heat, turned to him again. You moved closer, half-crawling, half-scooting on the dusty stone floor to his bedside. “Look at you. You should be glad I’m more interested in healing than I am killing, you prick.” You sat up on your knees and leaned into his space. Miguel’s mind swirled in a way it used to when a pretty woman leaned into him during his courting days.

“I still don’t see a point in mercy,” Miguel whispered, his voice caught between his mouth and his heart. 

“Because I’m gifted. An asset. A good pick for an ally.” You tilted your head and gazed up at the older man through your lashes. Your hand, bare, pressed against Miguel’s skin, smoothing over the gauze wrapping around his chest. “Perhaps once I’ve secured my place as king myself, you’ll remember me, and what I can do for you.” 

What I can do for you. Ah. That sent blood rushing south and ideas flooding north. 

Miguel’s hand grasped one of your wrists, and he too leaned in the slightest bit. “And what is it you can do for me, exactly?”

“Everything,” you whispered. “Anything.” 

A wave of warmth pulsed through his chest, radiating from your palm. It came in one wave, but so suddenly like an explosion easing into the steady comfort of his chamber hearth, glowing quietly throughout the night. The stiff warnings in his chest melted and eased, and suddenly, he could move freely again. His arm and leg still ached terribly, but his chest seemed to have been…healed? 

“Magic,” he breathed. 

“Magic,” you whispered.

He closed the gap and kissed you. You whimpered something soft and sweet into his mouth as he took the lead, his one good hand digging into the space connecting your neck to your shoulder, not allowing you to run away. But he learned quickly you’d no desire to leave with how you clambered onto the bed and shed just enough of your clothes to take him. 

[yanderes-galore]

Hcs for how a rivalry (romantic) would happen between Connor and his superior model RK-900? Thank you!

Sure! This takes place in an AU where Connor deviates upon knowing he's being replaced and is on the run from Cyberlife.

I'd like feedback as I had so many ideas for this, I want to know how I did! Hope you like it :) This could totally be a longer fic due to the endings ans choices. I'm so happy with this.

Ngl, new fav fic of mine. This is long. I need to write more D:BH.

Yandere! Connor (RK800) vs RK900

Pairing: Rivalry - Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Guns, Murder, Forced kissing, Possessive behavior, Moral conflict, Rivalry, Deviancy, Android/Human, Overprotective behavior, Blood mention, Stalking, Invasion of privacy, Trauma.

You knew Connor first

The android was cold at times but you knew he was just doing what his programming told him.

You worked at the police station, while Connor was assigned to Hank, the android often looked towards you.

It was against his programming to ask about you, yet you still saw him walk over to you.

You weren't opposed to androids unlike your colleagues, yet you didn't want to encourage Connor to be off task.

"Hello, Officer (Y/N)."

"Hey, Connor. Need something?"

"No. I was just checking in. Are you doing fine with organizing crime files?"

"Yes... but you should really go back to Hank, Connor."

"Do you not like me standing here?"

"I just don't want to distract you, Connor."

"I am not on duty as of now. Do I make you uncomfortable?"

This Connor is a combination of sticking with his coding and being a deviant.

He's deviant enough to still have some sort of obsession towards you, but cold enough to go against other deviants.

You have no idea how you affect the android.

You bring out the flaws within him.

The flaws that push him to looking for info about you.

When you aren't around, Connor snoops.

He looks through your computer for the most part.

It would be strange if he asked others about personal info.

He also isn't deviant enough to stalk.

Then, once Connor completes his missions, you meet RK900.

It surprises you when you meet the newer model, he looks exactly like Connor but with different clothing.

This leaves you dreading what happened to Connor....

"What happened to Connor?"

"RK800? He is being hunted by Cyberlife. In short, he is on the run."

"On the run...?"

"Yes. I have been assigned to Lt. Hank Anderson... Cyberlife told me you are also on the case. The uprising is finished. We just need to find RK800 now."

Something about the way RK900 talks puts you on edge.

Connor ran away? So he was a deviant....

It saddened you to know he probably ran due to the fear of being replaced....

No one likes to be replaced, human or android.

This is how RK900 gets attached to you.

He is aware you were close with the deviant, thinking you'll be the key to finding him.

He is a better model of RK800, meant to iron out the imperfections of his predecessor.

Although, turns out they missed one or two.

While not as open about it as Connor, he still feels an attachment towards you.

Through the hunt of Connor, RK900 appears to care more and more about you.

He also keeps trying to convince you Connor's dangerous.

"If you see the deviant, contact me."

"You mean Connor-"

"The name is not needed. Promise you'll call for back up."

"Fine... I promise."

You have no idea that when you're with RK900, Connor is keeping an eye on you.

Finally full deviant, Connor stalks you and his replacement.

It hurts him to know you were stuck alongside someone who looks like him... but isn't him

Connor is now without his LED, body covered in a large hood and baggy pants.

He needed a disguise that would hide his appearance... this is what he could come up with.

He doesn't look like the Connor you used to know.

He looks a bit too human.

He never wanted to be on the run, yet he never wanted to be replaced either.

In fact... he wished he could have you on the run with him.

It would be unsafe, but he really misses you.

Watching you with that RK900 upsets him, too.

Perhaps during the investigation, when RK900 finally leaves you be, Connor pulls you into an alleyway.

You go to scream... but those eyes are familiar.

"Don't say anything. I promise I won't hurt you."

"Connor? Is that really you?"

"I missed you, (Y/N)... Truthfully, I think of you a lot."

"That's... flattering- What is your plan? Are you going to run until your thirium pump stalls?"

"I want to get out of the city... you need to come with."

"... Connor, no, I-"

"Please, (Y/N). I promise we'll live a good life. Just help me-"

"...."

You're left with two choices.

Go with Connor and help him out of the city or stick with RK900 to turn Connor in.

>>> Leave with Connor.

"Fine, I'll help you out."

If you agree to Connor's offer, he's ecstatic.

Unable to control his fabricated form of love, he leans down and kisses you.

His lips are cold, a faux sense of desperation in his movements.

He then pulls away, readjusting the hood.

"I knew you'd say yes."

You then disappear with Connor, alerting RK900.

You were done investigating your area, right?

Why weren't you back?

The chase for Connor intensifies, now realizing you're gone too.

You're now suspected of helping the deviant, your arrest now being thought of.

Connor's grip on you is intense.

He's extremely protective of you and you help him try to leave Detroit.

When escape is within your grasp, RK900 stops you both.

"Connor, look out!"

A gunshot is heard, thirium spilling out from Connor's hood.

"RK800. Release your hostage!"

RK900 has a gun pointed at Connor, meanwhile Connor has you behind him.

"(Y/N) is no hostage.... we're happy!"

Connor pulls a gun from his pocket, pointing it at RK900.

"Back up is on its way, RK800."

You look fearfully between the two.

This could end one of two ways....

>>> RK900 shoots first

"No... leave us alone- I refuse to comply."

"You leave me no choice, RK800. You'd be disassembled anyways."

With quick speed, RK900 shoots Connor between the eyes.

You scream as the deviant hits the ground, RK900 pocketing his gun.

"Now listen, (Y/N). Your arrest is being considered. However, if you come with me with the explanation you're a hostage... you'll be fine. If not... a cell is waiting for you."

You stare warily towards Connor, deactivated on the ground.

Dead upon the head wound.

"... If you say so...."

RK900 then takes you into his hold, walking you back to the station.

"You know..."

RK900 starts, gray eyes looking towards you.

"If you wanted attention from him, I could give you just that."

Your eyes widen, staring up at the android.

It clicks in your head once you get to the station...

He's a deviant too.

>>> Connor shoots first

Before giving RK900 a chance to speak, Connor shoots.

A bullet hits his neck, then another in his head.

In retaliation, RK900 shoots but it misses you both.

Damaged on the ground, RK900 lays motionless.

"Okay, Connor, let's run-"

*Bang bang bang*

Connor shoots three more unneeded rounds into RK900 before tugging you along and pocketing his gun.

"Come on."

His tone is cold once again, pushing you two on a bus heading out of town.

Connor sits you by a window seat and him next to you.

You're caged in, Connor's brown gaze fixated on you.

"(Y/N)."

You look to him, the situation setting in.

"... Can we kiss again?"

"Connor... why?"

"I like to think... I'm yours. So, please, show me I am."

"... if you really want it"

It'll be a long bus ride... you aren't even sure if this is the right decision in the end.

>>> Refuse Connor's offer.

"No, Connor."

He looks to process the information before pressing you closer against the wall.

"I NEED you, (Y/N)!"

Cold lips force themselves against yours, silencing your screams for help.

That is until a gunshot is heard, thirium pooling out of Connor.

"Release Officer (Y/N), deviant."

RK900 points a gun towards Connor, Connor pulls away, pulling a gun of his own.

"No..."

This could end one of three ways.

>>> RK900 shoots Connor

"Very well then, RK800."

*bang*

Connor lets you go, crashing into the alleyway.

You flinch at the loud sound, RK900 putting away his weapon before coaxing you close to him.

He notices you shaking, eyes narrowing at the damaged deviant.

"It'll be okay, (Y/N)... I've got you. I'll protect you."

Normally, he'd ignore your shaking hug.

Although...he felt different.

The obvious culprit would be deviancy.

Which would mean memory wiping... or worse.

RK900 silences such thoughts and decides to hide them from you, for now.

You may not be emotionally stable enough to handle it, anyway.

RK900 presses you to his chest, chin on your head.

He'll comfort you... then take you back.

After removing Connor... RK900 felt... relief.

Was it because you're no longer in danger...?

Or was it because you're finally all his?

>>> Connor shoots RK900

"I'd never give (Y/N) up."

*bang bang bang*

RK900 is caught off guard, falling to the ground.

Connor then holds you crushingly close to his body, making a run for it.

Even though you struggle, he ignores it, throwing you over his shoulder.

You'll understand he cares for you in time...

For now, he needs to focus on getting you both out of town.

"I know you don't understand, (Y/N)... but I'm yours, and I hope you'll be mine.

In this case, while it ends similarly to the "Accept Connor" choice...

You really are a hostage this time.

>>> Connor shoots you

"If I'm leaving... then (Y/N) is too."

"Connor, what!?"

The barrel is pressed against your head, the cold metal freezing your skin.

"(Y/N)!"

*bang bang*

Gunshots sync together, leaving only one android active.

You lay on the ground, gunshot to the head taking you out.

Connor lays next to you, shot to the head damaging his processors.

His embrace is still tight around you.

RK900's LED flickers yellow, scanning what has occured.

It then went red at the realization of your death.

RK900 was speechless.

He called your name in concern... admitting deviancy.

He also felt... angry, remorseful at your death....

He was a deviant too... he could sense it.

But what was the point?

He didn't need to be deviant for anyone now.

"What happened, RK900?"

Hank asks, RK900 turning around.

"I was unable to recover Officer (Y/N). Our deviant is disabled, however."

"Dear god...."

RK900 looks back at you, LED continuing to flicker.

In his mind, his mission failed.

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Southern & Slow

Joel Miller x Reader

Shorter Drabble based on Luke Bryan’s song Southern and Slow

Warnings - reader described as female, soft smut, piv, sex, talk of sex, mentions of pregnancy and having a baby, age gap, reader late twenties 28 Joel around 48, feelings, talk of love, no outbreak au, quoting of The Notebook, my terrible writing. No use of y/n in this one.

Word count 1.6K

This song just reminded me soo much of older Joel with his loyal sweet girl.

When you love me slow and southern like a Sunday

Like muddy water rollin' by a riverbank

Like some sleepy little town, down with the moon

Livin' like honey drippin' off a spoon

Like the sun that takes an hour to get behind the water tower

'Bout the speed of watchin' wildflowers grow

Ain't but two ways this old boy's gonna go

Slow and southern, southern and slow, southern and slow

Waking up in the warm Texas sun with your gorgeous cowboy pressed up against you ………. that will never grow old. You're both still naked from last nights activities, and the feeling of his skin against yours is heavenly. You roll over so you can see his face, smiling at the sight, his hair is stuck up in every direction and curls sticking to his forehead in the sweaty Texan heat. His face looks so relaxed, frown lines almost invisible, the weight of the world off his shoulders for a little while. You loved Sunday mornings, they were always lazy, slow and intimate. They usually lead to slow, calm and lazy days, walks by the river, soft kisses, slow dancing in the kitchen, and watching the sunsets from the porch while Joel plays his guitar.

The small town you’d moved too was sleepy on Sundays, no one ever had anywhere to rush too. After you both were married Joel built you both a home, one you’d both spend the rest of your days in. You’d designed it together, you’d said you ‘want a white house with blue shutters and a room overlooking the river so I can paint’ quoting your favourite story. But Joel bless him he took it very seriously, so that’s what you got a beautiful little White House, with gorgeous pale blue shutters and a small room facing the river, where you had space to paint, draw and write.

Life was good, Joel had taken a extra day a week off work, giving more of the reigns to Tommy. Therefore giving himself a longer weekend to rest and spend time with you. You worked for a writing and editing company so you mainly worked from home, only having to go to Austen sometimes. You are also working on writing your own book, slowly but surely.

Looking at your sleeping cowboy once more you gently move a curl from his forehead, stroking down his cheek, watching as his face twitches and his eyebrows furrow. My goodness you loved him, sometimes you worry you love him a little too much, but he loves you equally so you guess it’s ok. How could you not love a man like Joel, a man who loves you so completely, who protects you, makes you laugh, sings songs for you and builds a home for you both.

When you’d first told your parents about Joel, they weren’t too sure, there was an obvious age gap and they felt you had a whole life to live. But the second they met him that all changed, they got it, understood wholeheartedly why you loved this man. Now he’s part of the family, as you are his, Sarah warmed to the idea instantly, surprising you both as you feared she would be the one to object, you were only eight years older than her. But it was Tommy and Maria who took a bit longer to warm up to you, but seeing how happy you made Joel everyone eventually accepted your relationship, five years in now and you both couldn’t be happier.

Joel stirs awake mumbling “Good mornin’ darlin’” nuzzling his face into your neck, “Morning baby” you hum. Bringing your hand to run through his curls, slowly scratching his scalp. He lets out a contented groan, causing you to smirk to yourself. Joel begins tentatively kissing your neck, finding your sweet spot and gently sucking. You moan arching into him, the sheet barely covering you both slipping down around your thighs now, Joel took that as enough of a reason to slowly slide on top of you, his hands stroking and grabbing at any skin he could find.

“I can never get over how soft you feel under me sweetheart” Joel begins, his hand now sliding between your thighs “soo soft and smooth and wet for me huh” he continues bringing his mouth back up to yours, licking slowly into your mouth, his tongue caressing yours. His fingers glide through your slick, bringing it up to rub slow circles around your clit, causing you to gasp into his mouth.

No matter how much time goes by, every time with Joel is like the first, every time makes you erupt with butterflies and quiver under his expert touch. You arch even closer to him, moulding your body to his as you begin rocking your hips into his hand. “Needy this mornin’ aren’t we darlin’ don’t worry I’ve got you” he hums, inserting two fingers into your heat, and using his palm against your clit. He finds your toe curing spot instantly and precisely, using the come hither motion while simultaneously rubbing your bud “Joel fuck! I’m gonna cum” you moan, “That’s it baby let go for me” Joel instructs, and you do you cum hard around his fingers, gasping into his ears.

You’re still coming down when you feel the blunt end of his cock pushing into your core, as he slowly nestles his way home. Grabbing your hand he laces his fingers with yours, kissing your palm before rolling his hips into yours. Your spare arm grabs his back for purchase, fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck. “God Joel you feel so good” you pant, “Yeah?” He asks “You’re made for me sweetheart, made for me and no one else, this pussy is mine! Only my cock can make you feel this good right baby?” He trails off while punctuating everything with deep hard thrusts. “Yes Joel all yours, I am all yours!” You mumble back then like a mantra you repeat ‘Joel Joel Joel’.

There’s no rush on these lazy mornings, he never speeds up his thrusts, just keeps the steady rhythm as he makes love to you deep and slow. “Fuck Joel I’m close, come with me” you moan, now meeting his movements with your own. “Ok baby girl shit! Almost there hang on a bit longer for me” he rasps. He kisses you passionately, his kiss matching his thrusts slow and steady, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“Now baby! Let go for me” he pleads, hand moving between your legs once more to roll over your sensitive pearl, “Joel!!!” You whine as you come undone, pussy clamping down on his cock, Joel reaching his end simultaneously and emptying himself inside you with a low moan.

You run your hands up and down his back, while placing sweet kisses to his shoulder, pulling his head up he looks at you with such a soft and loving expression, “I love you darlin’” “I love you too” giving you a quick peck he pulls out, walking on wobbly legs to the bathroom where he turns on the shower, “Come on sweetheart, let’s clean up” he insists, pulling you up with him and carrying you to the shower.

The morning carried on lazily, your shower was spent carefully washing each other with dopey smiles, all while having long snuggles under the steaming water. You made coffee together and enjoyed drinking it on your porch, watching the river flow, and the wildflowers blow in the breeze. Before an impromptu call to Tommy, inviting him, Maria and their beautiful baby girl, over for lunch.

You stood leaning on the doorframe lovingly watching Tommy and Joel play with the baby, while Maria sat close by engaging in casual conversation with the men. You couldn’t remember when you’d last felt so content, and watching Joel play with the baby did something to you. A new sensation of butterflies coursing through your stomach. Joel looks up at you then, smiling to himself as he stands and makes his way over to you.

Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you in close, stroking a hand down your cheek. Warm pools of chocolate searching your eyes, “What do you think darlin’?” Joel hinted, nudging you and looking over at the new parents, “Huh?” You reply confused. “Should we have one? Been thinking about it a lot recently, you all round carrying my baby” Joel smirks as you gasp “Really” you stutter, shocked he’s really suggesting it. “Yeah really, I think you’d make a wonderful mother, and I’m getting on now. So if we were going to have one it would need to be now, well at least soon” he replies, obviously being completely honest.

You grin so wide your mouth ached, you’d love to have a baby with this man, but with Sarah being all grown up you didn’t think it would be in the cards for Joel, and you had accepted that, Joel would always be enough. “Your sure? Because I mean we don’t have too if you don’t really want an….” Joel cuts you off with a soft kiss “I’m sure darlin’ in fact nothing would make me happier” you grin again “Ok, yeah let’s have one” you reply, “Yeah?” He asks once more, “Yeah I’d love to have your baby Joel” you affirm. He smiles and pulls you in close again, arm over your shoulder, while watching his brother and niece.

Yeah, you loved these slow southern Sundays with your cowboy.

[godsfavoritescientist]

AITA for throwing a party for my best friend?

I (NB, 1 trillion) recently befriended someone (M, 60+) for the first time in ages. At first I only spent time with him because I felt sorry for him (he had no other friends), but after I got to know him, I realized he was really smart and fun to talk to.

Early on in our friendship, he asked me for help with an important project he was stuck on, and I agreed right away. I dedicated several years to helping him out, doing everything from giving him an idea that would solve all his problems once completed to walking him through complex math to encouraging him to keep going when he hit roadblocks. Every single time I helped with the project for all those years, I stayed up all through the night working on it with him.

A year before things started to fall apart between us, he invited a different friend to help with the project too, who I’ll call “F.” This guy hated the local wildlife (which my friend loved and dedicated his life to studying), and my friend insisted on keeping me a secret from F out of fear that F would hate me too. My friend also insisted on delaying his own project (which he had to finish so that he could keep getting funded to do his dream job) in order to keep F happy by building side-projects that F suggested.

Throughout his time “helping” with the project, F kept criticizing my friend and his project. Eventually, F finished a secret side-project of his own, to build a weapon that erases memories, and used it on my friend multiple times without his consent. I tried to warn my friend that F wasn’t trustworthy, but my friend didn’t do anything with my advice.

When the project was almost complete, F saw me for a few seconds and threw a fit. He used some choice words to describe my friend’s life’s work, told him he should destroy his project, and then abandoned my friend.

My friend was really upset about this, and tried to get in contact with me to reassure him. Unfortunately, I was spending time with my other friends for a couple of days at the time, and didn’t get his messages. He responded by barging into my own home, running up behind me, and accusing me of giving him a bad idea for the project we worked on together for years up until that point, probably because he was doubting his own reasoning skills after finding out that his choice to let F stick around had been a bad decision. I reassured him that he is smart (he is insecure about that) and revealed that I was planning to throw him a huge surprise party too, once his project was finished. He got really angry about this, and announced that he wanted to shut down his life’s work just to stop the party from happening.

I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t want me to throw him a party, and assumed that the stress of losing a friend (even a bad friend like F) was making him not think clearly. I also got a little bit annoyed that he could ever throw all our hard work down the drain so impulsively like that. I diligently stopped him from ruining his own creation, and waited for him to get over his moment of irrational feelings so we could get back to finishing his work, but it never happened.

He kept trying to shut down the project, and ended up losing everything because of it. When he invited yet another bad influence into his home (his brother, who had been a criminal for over ten years at that point), his brother used his diabolical mind to come up with a way to use our project against him, in a way that trapped my friend in a really dangerous situation for several decades.

I looked for my friend for the entire time he was lost in a dangerous situation, but I had no luck. And right when my friend miraculously found me, his brother separated us again. But there was a silver lining to this situation: my friend’s brother accidentally created a way for me to finally reunite with my friend and throw him the surprise party I had been planning.

[corrodedseraphine]

perfectly wrong | #3 moments of weakness

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

chapter summary: Everyone in their lives has moments of weakness. In yours, unfortunately, there are too many of them lately. Too many times they are witnessed by Steve. How is it possible that the person with whom you have hated each other for years is always there for you when you don't want it most?

TW: mentions of: pregnancy, domestic violence, bruises, near death experience

The story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | steve harrington masterlist | general masterlist

I'm back to writing! Or at least I'm trying… The recent time in my life has been crazy, still is, and I'm still looking for a way to cope with it, so my writing is still one big question mark. I don't know when I'll write something new, also I don't know what it will be, I was supposed to stick to my "schedule" but for the moment I just write whatever I want at any particular moment. Thank you all for your patience!

Your opinion, feedback, questions or ideas are always welcome! If there is something what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about it in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

Then...

Your lungs are on fire. You don't know by what miracle you are still able to breathe. You desperately try to catch air while running ahead as fast as you can. Your veins are now filled with pure adrenaline, survival instinct is the only thing keeping you alive. Somewhere in the distance you hear voices. Nancy, Jonathan and Steve are calling your name, but you don't turn toward them. You can't. If you do you'll be dead.

The heavy thud of footsteps behind you begins to drown them out. A large creature is hitting the trees, which you successfully dodge and run between them. The demogorgon is too big and not quite agile to dodge them all, but it can easily climb them and jump from one to another. Tears blur your vision, you stumble over roots sticking out of the ground, branches rubbing against your body. Suddenly you hear a shot. Another one. And another. It must be Nancy, she must have run out of the house with a gun. Suddenly everything around you goes quiet and you slow down. Your breathing is fast, shallow and irregular, your hands are trembling, somewhere in the darkness you try to see the other three teenagers however you do not notice them. Nor do you see the monster whose breath you felt on your neck just a moment ago.

Did Nancy shoot it? Your gaze turns to the ground in search of a huge, slimy body but you don't see that either. That's when something falls on you and squashes you straight into the ground unfolding its mouth and showing thousands of small sharp fangs. A screech from the monster's throat fills the entire area, followed by Nancy screaming your name. Now they are closer. Another three shots, the Demogorgon jumps away from you to the side, but you are unable to move paralyzed by fear. The monster ignored the rest after a while and its attention again focused on your lying body. Seeing him getting ready to attack, Steve didn't think much and with a scream threw himself in your direction covering you with himself. Thus, the claws of the Demogorgon, instead of landing on you, left deep wounds on Steve's back. His body became a shield, stained with red, hot blood. His pain-filled cry brought you back to earth. You opened wide your eyes, which until then you had clenched with all your strength to see tears of pain running down his cheeks. The expression on his face was terrible. In the meantime, Jonathan grabbed a baseball bat with nails stuck in it, and Nancy once again started shooting at the monster, which suddenly turned around and ran off into the woods. This time something else began to press down on you. It was Steve's lifeless body.

"Help him." your voice was quiet and squeaky, they didn't hear you at first. "Steve." you said louder. "Steve!" only now they finished looking around and both of them ran up to you.

Moments later, Hopper and Joyce appeared by your side. Jim, together with Jonathan, picked up a semi-conscious Steve and led him to the car. You picked yourself up from the ground and started to follow them. He couldn't die. Not that way, certainly not by trading his life for yours. Ignoring the calls of Nancy and Joyce you followed them slowly losing your balance. The world around you whirled until finally everything was completely shrouded in darkness.

When you woke up the first thing that came out of your mouth was his name. Joyce tried to explain that the situation was under control, that he had lost a lot of blood, but the situation was stable and probably not life-threatening, but that wasn't enough. You insisted that you had to see him, you had to see with your own eyes that he was fine.

Still a little wobbly, with Joyce's help, you entered the room, which was opposite yours. Steve was lying on his stomach, and his back was covered with bandages, right next to him stood a half-empty IV. Next to him on plastic chairs sat Will and Dustin, who sent you weak smiles as they left the room. Steve watched with a poker face as you took the seat where Will was just a moment ago.

"You-you saved my life." you said quietly breaking the silence filled with tension. The bland, emotionless expression on his face did not change. He also did not answer anything, so you tried to continue.

"Thank you…"

"Get out." he interrupted you.

"W-what?" you might have expected such a reaction; after all, you hadn't been able to look at each other for several months, and when you had to, neither of you spared any insults. But if he hated you why did he save you? You thought this was a moment where you would put all hatred aside, that maybe this meant you would be able to get back to at least tolerating each other. You thought that this moment of weakness between you would be able to change the direction of your "relationship". You were wrong.

"Are you deaf?" he growled. "Get the fuck out of here!"

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nodded and left as he told you to. You had to accept that it was time to forget everything that had been between you, or rather, what hadn't been, but only had a chance to be. You had to accept that Steve Harrington hates you. You had to hate him too.

Now...

Steve was not used to days off, especially now. His thoughts always seemed to be too loud, but at the moment, as dusk was falling over Hawkins and everything seemed to quiet down around him, they were becoming unbearable. He would definitely rather be sitting in the hospital now on the night shift than staring blankly at the TV screen. He also tried to study for his exams, however, he couldn't focus on anything, and the letters switching places didn't help him at all. Annoyed, he got up, grabbed his car keys and walked out of the house with a quick step.

The streets of the town were quiet, most people had long ago been sitting locked in their homes, with only a few in some places walking their dogs. A strange nostalgia swept over him as he began to contemplate what it would be like to have a home. Steve only had a house. A big, empty cold house in which he never felt comfortable. What would it be like to sit at the table with someone, eat a warm meal and talk about how the day had gone? On a slow day, take an old puzzle or board game out of the closet and spend time together? Dustin and Eddie invited him to Hellfire many times, but each time he tried everything seemed too complicated. Steve was not alone. But sometimes he felt lonely, even though he has a lot of people who love him in their weird ways. Robin, Eddie and the kids bring pure chaos into his life, but he will do anything to keep that chaos going. Unfortunately, despite how hard they try to fill the void in his life, something is still missing. Something that would make him feel a pleasant, welcoming warmth upon entering the grand mansion.

Not thinking much about the direction he was going he arrived on the outskirts of Hawkins. The area used to be very quiet and peaceful, the residents here being mostly retirees. But when Trailer Park was demolished by the opening of the gates, those who lost their homes that night and had no way to leave town moved here as well.

That's when he spotted a familiar silhouette in the distance. A silhouette that he would have recognized even in the darkest place in the world, a silhouette that he had hated for so many years that every detail of it was carved into his brain. He knew perfectly which clothes were your favorite, could easily tell when there were days you were too tired to put conditioner on your hair, and guessed by the color you used on your nails what mood you were in. He knew when your smile was genuine, and when you were smiling at Dustin's jokes, just so he wouldn't get sad. He knew how to tell when you were feeling anxious, he knew every little sign you had. Without knowing how, somewhere in all the chaos of hatred, Steve Harrington knew you like the back of his own hand, because every time he sent you murderous glances, he also observed you. He had been observing too long and too many times not to know all this now.

You walked along with Travis with your eyes stuck in the sidewalk. He was saying something to you however you did not respond. There was a complete lack of response on your part. At one point he stopped for a moment, and you, paying no attention at all, took a few steps forward. Then suddenly he firmly grabbed you by the arm and jerked pulling you towards him. Surprised and thrown off balance you tripped over your own feet and fell into him. Now he clamped both hands tightly on your shoulders and shook you. Terrified, you watched as he said something again, your big eyes after a moment began to look everywhere but at him. Then you noticed the familiar BMW, and behind the wheel Steve who was gripping the steering wheel with his hands so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. The sight of him paralyzed you even more.

"Are you fucking listening to me?" Travis hissed through his teeth. Your gaze immediately returned to him.

"Y-yes." you said. "Let me go, people are looking out the window."

"I don't give a shit about them, I'm just teaching you that you should respect me and what I say to you." His fingers dug into your arms, and the grimace of pain did not make the squeeze soften.

"Hey!" at the sound of Steve's voice your heart sped up twice as hard. Travis quickly let you go and turned toward him.

"What are you looking for here Harrington?" he asked.

"Robin needs help at work and asked me to come get y/n, there are two hours left until closing time and there's so many people she can't handle herself."

Still motionless you looked at him wondering what he really wanted. You knew that Robin was also off today, but still you didn't deny it right away.

"What are you waiting for?!" Travis growled. Your extra hours at work meant more alcohol money for him, so your not going there would cause another argument.

Without a word, you nodded and quickly walked away with Steve toward his car. He was able to tell that you were feeling insecure, so when you both locked your doors and buckled your seatbelts he spoke up first.

"I lied." he said with a heavy sigh.

"I know, Robin is off today." You replied turning your head toward the window.

"Where do you want to go?" Without a word you shrugged your shoulders. The very fact that you were now trapped in the car with him occupied your head enough. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't get out of it because Travis was still watching you.

At first he actually led the way straight to Family Video, but he didn't stop at the parking lot, he just bypassed it by driving on. Without a word, you watched as you drove out of Hawkins. You had no idea where he was taking you however for some unknown reason you felt no danger in doing so. Steve could only hurt with words, he would never in his life do you any physical harm. Finally driving through the woods you arrived at a viewpoint above Hawkins. The sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon, leaving you alone under the cover of a cloudless, starry sky and the twinkling lights from a town that now seemed miniature in the distance.

Without waiting for him to turn off the engine, you got out of the car and sat down on a small wooden bench, where he joined you a moment later.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly.

"About what? About how much you hate me? About how much you regret saving my life?" you began reproachfully.

"Y/n…" he sighed. He had always perceived you as one of the strongest in the entire group, but now he saw that this strength had long disappeared. Now in front of him sat a person exhausted by a life that every now and then was giving her new problems. You were balancing over an abyss, not knowing at what point something would overload you. After all the hatred that was between you, he did not want to witness this fall.

"Don't worry, you're not alone in all this." you reflected. "I think hating me is the only thing we have in common." a sad smile appeared on your face.

"Why do you take everything as an attack? Why doesn't it reach you that I really want to help you?!" he asked irritated.

"Maybe it's hard for me to understand because for the past years you have done nothing but prove to me that you hate me!" you burst out.

"Not to mention the moments when you also don't hide how regretful you are that you saved my life!"

"And I am sorry!" he yelled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Your apologies don't change anything Steve! You only say that because you feel sorry for me, if you didn't know about this whole situation you would never change a damn thing!"

He opened his mouth to reply something however no word left them. You were right. If it weren't for the fact that he accidentally discovered the whole truth, he probably wouldn't even feel bad about how you treat each other. However, it was this whole situation that opened his eyes to your relationship. He has thought about it too many times over the past few days, and vice versa, he hasn't found an answer to the question that doesn't give him peace of mind. Where did your hatred really come from?

Still with his mouth open, he watched you get up from the bench and walk over to the barrier leaning against it and burying your face in your hands. The unbuttoned sleeves of your flannel shirt slid down revealing your bruised hands, at the sight of which his heart clenched. It was one thing to have wounds left behind after fighting monsters from the alternative dimension, and another to have visible signs of domestic violence. No one deserved it.

"Can we just pretend that we don't hate each other? This one time." he said walking up to you. "Talk to me please…" that tone again. That gentle caring tone that makes you feel like crying, that makes you feel like letting him take care of you, that you hate so much because it makes you feel weak.

"What do you want to know?" you asked, raising your head to look at the sky. No matter the scale of the tragedy happening in people's lives, the sky always remained beautiful.

"Does anyone else know about this?" was the first thing that came to mind.

"No. Just you and the nurses at the hospital. I know they don't believe me, the biggest idiot wouldn't believe me with all these stupid stories." You shook your head.

"For how long he- How long has it been going on?"

"Two years."

"Why didn't you run away?" he asked in disbelief. You had been going through hell at home for two years, even before the final battle with Vecna. He already knew why you dropped everything to be by Max's side 24 hours a day. In addition to fearing for her safety, it was the perfect excuse to get away from him.

"Where would I run away to, Steve?" you finally looked at him. Your eyes were full of pain however you did not cry. "To live on the street? I have no one to run away to, my parents are dead, and the only family I know lives at the other end of America. To escape you need money. I had been saving for a long time, but then I found out I was pregnant, so I needed even more. I sold everything I had from my parents, and he just took everything-" you stopped talking. You had the feeling that the world had gone crazy. Of all the people in the world, Steve Harrington was the only one you could talk to about the mess you had in your life. Why did fate hate you so much?

"Did he force you into something?" he asked, clasping his hands tightly around the railing. You looked at him. His jaw was clenched. You were not at all surprised that he thought that. It made you even more ashamed to tell the truth.

"No." you mouthed to yourself. "It was- It was just a moment of weakness." Every minute you hated even more that he was the only person you could talk to about it. You hated yourself even more for wanting to tell him all about it in that moment. "It was right after I left the hospital. When I came back, the whole house was cleaned up like never before. There was no trace of bottles or other crap. That night he made dinner for us, apologized for his behavior, promised that he would change, and I- and I believed him.

"Oh my God." he rubbed his face with his hand.

"All this damn time I felt so lonely, so desperate for any kind of warmth, closeness! S-so it happened. I let him in, and all the beautiful cover he created fell away a week later and everything went back to the old way. All because of a damn moment of weakness."

"I am so sorry, y/n…" he reached out his hand in your direction as if he wanted to offer you comfort, but you immediately took a step back.

This was another moment of weakness in your life. The fact that you are telling him about it now. You've had too many moments like this with him in the past, and even though you promised yourself each time that it would never happen again, you never knew how to stop yourself. No matter how fucked up things became in your life, you didn't know how Steve Harrington always found his place in it, making you feel like you were losing control even more. You hated him a lot more for that. You hated the fact that you couldn't stop yourself from all these moments of weakness every time.

Letting him comfort you now would be another one you would regret. Even his intentions towards you were sincere and he wanted to help, he was still a man who had done nothing but spit venom in your direction over the past years. So you stepped back, protecting yourself from something you were desperate for.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @sheisjoeschateau @hollandweather @lma1986 @scarletwitchwhore @freezaz123 @ihatepeanutss

[cup1dxzs]

Darling Little Puppet

Wally Darling X Reader

Chapter 4- Today We Make A Friend!

Pain.

Fear.

Anxiety.

Awakening with a gasp, grasping at whatever you found close enough to you, it felt soft which was a sharp contrast to how your head felt. You’d grab at the back of your head as you whimpered in pain, your memories came rushing in as you’d look around your living room…more like forest?

“What the fuck? Where am I…” You gawked the sight before you, you’d automatically assume that you were robbed and dropped into a forest far from your home in order to give the robber a better chance to get away with the crime but that idea faltered when you were met with a large variety of multicolored trees, none of which you’d ever seen, nor did you think existed, a bird a few feet away from you cawed as it had been startled by your abrupt awakening, and the soft grass that surrounded you didn’t make you break out into an itchy rash, much to your liking. Picking yourself up you looked around and saw nothing but forest, was this place even real?

“Holt shit! Am I dead?!” You suddenly concluded, vividly remembering a loud click before it went dark, grabbing once more at the pain in your cranium, there wasn’t any blood, just painfully sore. “Ouch…pain feels too real to be a dream, but at least I’m alive..?” Sighing in relief you began to walk in a random direction, hoping to spot some civilization. The bright colors of this forest made your eyes hurt so you’d stick to looking at the familiar green grass, though you couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you’d seen it.

You’d finally bring your gaze up from the floor, seeing an opening that wasn’t forest straight ahead causing you to bolt straight ahead in excitement to be free from the strange colored trees, unbeknownst to you there was a tree root hidden under some blue and red colored leaves which caught your foot and dragged you down to the floor, hitting the floor and sliding a few inches ahead due to your momentum suddenly being slammed into the floor. Laying there in silence as you needed time to process what even happened and your face growing red in first hand embarrassment for yourself, luckily no one saw but at the sight of your hair sticking out in strange directions and even if that wasn’t obvious you could really tell by your now ripping clothing which adorned brown splotches of dirt, some even landing on your face.

“Don’t I have the luck of an Angel?” You growled sarcastically to yourself as you stood up again for what seemed like the hundredth time, a pain in your scraped up knee helped you to decide that you would walk, or limp, the remaining distance keeping a keen eye out for other tree roots protruding out, not wanting a repeat of what had literally just happened not even a few minutes ago.

Once you finally escaped the clutches of the forest you stoped and observed what seemed to be a bodega or just a normal store, maybe even both? ‘Howdy’s Place? Jesus how far am I from my house?’ You thought to yourself, noting there was a sigh that read ’100% Off!’ Which only fueled your confusion even more. Walking towards it cautiously you finally stepped inside, a small bell alerting whoever was there of your presence, but none seemed to be at the cash register, or you assumed since it was pretty much a desk with no actual cash register. Walking deeper inside you were thankful for the air conditioning, continuing your journey of exploring the place.

“And who might you be? A new neighbor I presume?” A voice spoke behind you, startling you in the process as you turned around to ask help of this what you hoped a kind stranger- or caterpillar, a fucking caterpillar.

“The name’s Howdy, such a pleasure to meet you!” The overly joyful bug stuck out two hands as you stared at him with nothing but pure terror in your eyes, your body finally reacting in an untimely way as you threw yourself back knocking down a large and once neatly stacked crate of apples, letting out a scream while you were trying to get away from this strange creature, as he only stared at you with concern and confusion clearly not expecting this reaction.

You fell down with the crate of apples, landing on a few which felt the equivalent of stepping of legos but with your entire body, trying to scramble away from the odd bug, while he looked at you like you were the weird one here! Unsurprisingly you ran out the store, looking behind you to see if it had followed you and was currently chasing you, thankfully it wasn’t but in your small moment of not paying attention you ran straight into what felt like a pile of the softest feathers you’d ever felt into your life.

“Oh dear my cookies!” The feminine voice shouted out in anguish as the clang of a metal tray was heard hitting the floor.

Oops.

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As you can tell reader is adjusting to their new world very well! Making new friends and everything, I’m so proud 🥲 but lmk how this chapter is and if theirs anything I can fix thx for reading! Also are we liking the new banner??

-ChillyKitty

[frost-queen]

The difference (Reader x Peter Parker) TASM

Requested by: anon; Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernam,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​

“So aunt May won’t be back till four.” – Peter spoke, grabbing a drink from the fridge. – “Where has she gone off to?” – you responded from another room. Peter jumped on the counter. – “I don’t know, I think it is one of those ladies gatherings or so?” – he answered loudly, taking the cap off the bottle. You appeared briefly into the kitchen, quirking your eyebrow up. – “So you have no idea where your aunt is?” – you asked. 

Peter shrugged his shoulders. – “Were you even listening to her?” – you questioned with a smirk. – “Of course I was.” – Peter responded. You were about to disappear again when he shot his hand forwards. A web sticking onto you, making him pull his hand back. You screamed when he forced you back into the kitchen. – “Peter Parker!” – you called out annoyed only seeing him laugh. You walked over to the counter, the web still sticking on your waist. 

Taking a paper towel, you grabbed the web between the paper to rip it off you. There was just something about the sticky stuff you didn’t like touching. Peter chuckled, bringing his drink up to his mouth. – “You know that if you want me around, just ask.” – hands on your hip, you shot him a glare. – “I know, but this is way more fun.” – he answered with a grin.

You stuck your tongue out to him. – “I think I deserve a kiss, my sweet Y/n.” – he asked setting his drink beside him. You laughed once loud. Peter curling up a smile. – “Don’t make me do the same thing again Y/n? Unless you want more sticky web all over you.” – your eyes widened when he said that. – “Or you could just come over here.” – you responded loudly, not letting him win this round. Peter held his wrist up, waving it across to tease you. 

He wasn’t playing around. He slowly lowered his hand to aim it at you. Making you wave your hands desperately in protest. – “Okay, okay! Wait! I surrender!” – you called out. Peter lowered his hand as you came hurrying over. Opening his legs a bit, he allowed room for you. Pressing his hand against your cheek, your head fell back to kiss him. You wanted to pull away when he wouldn’t let you. Pushing you closer to him once more. The ting of a message made you pull apart. Peter and you both checked your phone to see who it was. 

It was his as you tugged your phone away. Grabbing a cloth, you started cleaning the counter. You were humming a bit, a shadow falling down. Something dark caught your eye, making your gaze go up. Eyes wide with fear, you screamed your lungs out. Leaping back from the spider dangling on its web. – “What?” – Peter jumped off the counter frantically. He rushed over to you, holding you. You were trembling and shaking on your knees. – “What is it Y/n?” – he asked worried, touching your chin.

With a shuddering finger, pointed you in front of you. Peter frowned, following your point. It took him a moment to see what you were pointing at. – “A spider!” – you freaked out. He then spotted it, laughing loud. – “Don’t laugh! It nearly fell in my hair.” – you slapped him hard against his chest. He kept laughing, finding it funny. – “Do something!” – you called out, pushing him in front of you. 

“Tell it to leave!” – you ordered him, giving him a slight push. – “What?” – Peter sputtered out confused at your request. Finding it half funny, half unsure if you were being serious. – “Go on, do it.” – you waved at him. – “You… you do know I don’t speak spider Y/n.” – he laughed out. You shook your head, not wanting to hear it. Peter sighed loud going over to the spider. 

He squashed it between his hands. He went over to the sink, turning the faucet on. Water spraying down on his hand to wash away any evidence of the killed spider. – “What difference is there between the spider and me?” – he asked teasingly. You relaxed your muscles now that the danger was gone. – “For instance.” – you started, showing him your hand to count on it. 

“Spiders are tiny, creepy, and hairy. Their many eyes stare right into my soul, knowing they just want to eat me. One single bite could kill you.” – you listed frustrated. Peter chuckled. – “I can bite to if you like.” – he said, flashing a wink your way. You ignored him, continue to list all the awful things about spiders.

Peter shook his head with a soft sigh, making his way over. – “Aren’t you glad I’m not a spider.” – he joked, grabbing you by the waist. You were still going as he silenced you by kissing you. He pressed his lips deeper onto you, wanting you to melt under his touch and surrender. You finally did, throwing your hands around him. – “You aren’t a spider.” – you said staring up to him. 

Peter’s finger brushed down your lip, while smiling. – “I’m not, but I promise I’ll always protect you from creepy crawlers for as long as I live.” – he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. – “Good.” – you answered before kissing him again.

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