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fynnekindraws-alt · 11 months

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please don’t mind this, I genuinely have no other way to send this to my main, or keeps glitching 😭😭😭

Captain Ryan

Rocking back and forth in front of the television on Fugitoid’s ship, Leo mumbled the theme song to Space Heros.

“Why do you like this show again?” Mikey asked, lounging on the couch behind him. “Well, there’s multiple reasons!” Leo started.

“Oh for God’s sake! I’d rather fight an entire fleet of Triceratons before listening to you rant about your dumb show again.” Yelled Raph, who was sitting next to Mikey, reading one of his comics.

“Hey! Shut it Raph! I want to know about why he likes this show so go away if you must,” Mikey pouted, sitting up and crossing his arms.

As Raph stormed off, probably headed to the hologram room to blow off some steam, Mikey stood up, grabbed two pillows and sat down next to Leo, giving him one to hold. “Okay, so tell me why you like Space Heros.”

“But you watch it with me, don’t you already know a bit about it?”

“Well, yeah kinda. But even still im not as big of a nerd about it that you are, and I get disraticaded. Distrectad? Distraticed? Di-Dis…”

“Distracted?” Leo filled in.

“DISTRACTED! YES!” Mikey shouted and pointed in a “eureka” form of way.

“Still, you get the point. Tell me about your show, man!” Mikey veered back on track.

———

“Hey, Raph?” Donnie knocked on the door to the holoroom.

Was this a pretty dumb idea? Yeah, probably. Did he need answers? Yeah, definitely.

After two minutes with no response, Donnie knocked again, “Raaaaph, I know you’re in there! I just have a question!”

When the door slid open, with a pissed off Raph on the other side, Donnie automatically knew this was a bad idea.

“What the FUCK, do you need, Donnie?” Raph glared, storming out into the long hallway.

“Ah! I was wondering if you knew where Leo and Mikey were? Fugitoid needs them on Main Bridge. There’s an asteroid belt coming up that they might need to help with.” Donnie relayed.

“Yeah I know where they are. They’re probably still in the media room. Mikey asked Leo to explain Space Heros to him again.” Raph snarled as he stomped away.

“Oh, well I checked and they’re not there. I thought they might have been in the holoroom with you. I guess not? Where else would they be…. Maybe April knows?” Donnie started muttering to himself again.

“Why not ask Casey? I’m sure he’d know where the other two dumbasses were.” He gritted out, spinning his sies in boredom.

“Nuhuh, I checked. Case has either been completely clocked out or playing hockey all morning.” Don stated, matter-of-factly, strolling down the hall next to the angry, stomping Raph.

———

“Okay, okay. So, Dr. Mindstrong is an alien,” “yes!” “And a scientist?” Mikey asked for clarification. “Cool, right?!”

They had moved their conversation to Mikey’s room because of a few of Casey’s stray pucks nearly hitting them a few too many times.

“Okay, and Crankshaw, is the one who always gets slapped?” Mikey asked. “Yes yes! Whenever he gets all panicky Captain Ryan, oh how I love Captain Ryan, slaps him to help him get ahold of himself!” Leo sputtered, not stopping to breathe until the end of the sentence.

“Ohhhh, is that why you used to do that to me all the time?” Mikey realized. “Yes!!! Sorry that by the way.” Leo side barred.

“Okay now Captain Ryan. You really like him, right?” Mikey asked, already knowing this was leading to a massive info dump from his eldest brother. But, that was the point, was it not?

———

As Leo started chattering about all of Captain Ryan’s amazing adventures and plans, Mikey started to zone out. Not to the point of not listening, but to the point of ‘I am hearing all of what you’re saying, I’m just thinking of something else at the same time’.

With Master Splinter dying, the Earth getting blown up, and the ever lasting brawl with the Triceratons, Leo hasn’t had much time to relax. So when he saw Leo settling down to watch his favorite show, Mikey knew he needed to take the chance to bond with his brother. Even though Leo was strict, that didn’t mean he was heartless.

Mikey couldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of stress that Leo had been going through the past few years, but he wanted to try. Leo wasn’t just Mikey’s brother, Leo was the one who raised him, who raised all of them. Master Splinter only ever got involved with their adolescent selves if it involved training.

Without Leo, none of them would be where they are now. Yes they were on a spaceship actively running away from multiple alien races and trying to find the black hole generator pieces before the Triceratons so they could go back in time and save their own planet, but still! They wouldn’t be here without him.

———

“-and Captain Ryan keeps those boots as a memento! Because Celestial, a minor character, pretty sure she only showed up once or twice… maybe a third as a ghost? Anyway, she tried to seduce him into giving him a code to… his ship? Wait, was it his ship? I don’t know, doesn’t matter. She tried and failed to seduce Captain Ryan, and let me tell you, she was like, hot-hot, so he disintegrated her. And after that Captain Ryan had trust issues with women. I guess that’s what happens after one tried to use you and the other changed forms to look like a beautiful woman. Oh imagine! That would be so fun to just shapeshift to whatever!” Leo ranted.

Miley occasionally added little bits and pieces to the conversation, but nothing longer than one or two sentences. He wanted to listen to his brother.

“Woah, the way you talk about the Great and Powerful Captain Ryan makes it sound like you have a crush on him.” Mikey prodded. “Well I… uh.” Leo paused, clearly processing something he hadn’t thought about previously. Mikey could hear the cogs turning in his brother’s head.

“Oh my god, Leo,” Mikey broke, and started giggling, struggling to hide it too. “MIKEYYYY” Leo complained, dragging his hands down his face. “Wait are you serious?” The youngest asked, snapping back to his calm demeanor.

“I think so… Fuuuuck. You cannot let Raph know about this. Or Donnie for that matter.” Leo whined from embarrassment. “Oh shit, yeah of course man. I won’t tell a soul.” Mikey promised, knowing it was serious when Leo swore.

“Yep. Thanks dude. How… how would they even react? I’m the leader, I’m not meant to even care about having a relationship, and here I am turning out gay. What would they think of that.” Leo sighed.

“I mean,” Mikey started, leaning against the wall next to Leo. “When I came out as gender-fluid I wasn’t treated any differently. You all just kinda nodded then forgot about it.” Mikey added.

“Oh shit, yeah I’m sorry Mikester. There’s been a lot going on. Uh, pronouns?” Leo shot up from sulking on his bed. “Oh don’t worry. I understand we’re all a little stressed, thanks though. And uh, I guess she/her right now.”

“Okay, is there a different name you prefer while feminine?” Leo questioned. “Oh yeah, Angel is good. I prefer Angelo on neutral days and Mikey or whatever for masculine.” Angel explained.

“Alright Angel, what would that make your sexuality?” Leo asked, slowly starting to understand his little sister a bit more. “I’m pan, but I don’t really want a relationship now. Got a lot going on. Not like Raph-a-doodle.” She giggled.

“Oh god, no. He and Mona are such a mess. Like it’s healthy, and I’m happy for them, but Jesus, why must they be so… I don’t know… bleahhh.” Leo complained.

“EXACTLY!” Mikey shouted. “You know what Leo?” “What?” “I like hanging out with you. Tons. Let’s do this more often, kay?”

“Kay.”

———

“Donatello, have you perhaps tried, BEEP, checking their rooms?” Fugitoid asked. They no longer were in risk of being hit by asteroids, but it was concerning to have both of them gone for so long.

“Oh no I didn’t! Thanks Professor! I’ll be right back!” Donnie called as he stood up from checking under the couch, darting down to the person quarters, aka, bedrooms.

“Odd, I honesty thought at least Leo would be in there.” Don muttered, closing Leo’s door. Starting to head back to the Main Deck, he heard a small noise from Mikey’s room.

“Hey Mikey, have you seen- Leo?” Donnie cut off, looking at the sight of Leo and Mikey laying against each other, dead asleep.

Walking out of the room, Donnie slowly and quietly closed the door. Tiptoeing away as best he could, then darting to a full on sprint to the Media Room. “I! Huh, one sec… I found them!” Donnie panted from the run. He really needed to exercise more. Now that they were in space, he didn’t get nearly enough exercise.

“Well where are they?” Raph broke Donnie from his thoughts. “Huh? Oh, they’re sleeping in Mikey’s room. I’m not sure why but they were out of it, and to be honest, Leo probably needed it a lot.” Donnie explained, finally catching his breath and hopping over the couch.

“Alright I guess. Want to watch some Crognard?” Raph asked, putting his comic down and grabbing the remote. “Do I ever!”

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strawberryinserts · 3 years

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A Different Type of Cure

Summary: Finally, he's finally figured out the cure to your horrid little curse!

Surely his plan will all go just the way he pictured, with no tricks from you, right? ....right?

Pairing: Licorice Cookie x Reader

Warnings: None needed, some swearing, there's kissing and maybe some suggestive lines, the smallest bit of angst

Notes: Licorice thinks he finally figured out the cure to your curse, maybe you can help him with it. Gender neutral reader!

Sequel fic to A Different Type of Curse

All the positivity from the first chapter made me really happy.. I've never gotten responses like that before, I'm really glad you all liked it, and I hope you like this part too!! 💙

Finally, finally! After months and months of suffering from your damn curse, Licorice is positive he's figured out the cure! It may have taken awhile to think of a cure, he may have had to...ugh, ask for help, only because it was hard to focus due to the curse, if it wasn't for that he would have been done with you the moment you tried cursing him! It doesn't matter that he's been thinking about you for months, it doesn't matter he stays up far too late thinking about how soft your hands are, what it'd feel like to kiss you, it doesn't matter that he- Ahem! He isn't cured yet, he can't keep getting distracted like this..! He's so close to finally being free of these damn thoughts, he just needs to find you- Licorice likes to think he's rather tall, but even if he is, it's not easy trying to find someone in a crowd, even if that someone is as beautiful as yo- this curse really is getting out of control.. Licorice ignored how the people he passed looked at him concerned, he was grumbling, obviously annoyed, he hated how he could tell he had gotten flustered from the warmth he felt from his cheeks on his hands. After he's cured he's going to make you pay for what you did to him, how? He doesn't know yet, but he doesn't care. Distracted by his thoughts he didn't hear the small gasp from behind him, he didn't hear the footsteps walking towards him despite how fast they were, what he did notice? He felt arms around him. A hug. Licorice stiffened and was about to curse out the fool that thought they could just run up and touch him, when he looked behind him and felt his blood run cold (or did he feel his heartbeat quicken? He doesn't know.) You. You. You were certainly brave, even if it was idiotic of you. Licorice opened his mouth to speak, his mouth felt incredibly dry all of a sudden, you seemed too- too excited, too happy to let him speak first. How truly disgusting, he thought. Though he was more disgusted at himself for thinking it was cute. "Licorice! I've been looking everywhere for you! It's been a few weeks since we last talked, I missed you!" The way you smiled at him, eyes shut while you giggled and told Licorice that you missed him.. It felt like he was dying. This was it, you knew he was trying to cure himself, you're trying to finish him off. His face was hot, his hands were sweaty, his heart- god his heart was beating so fast and loud he swore you could hear it. You were killing him. Licorice finally snapped out of his daze and realized you had spun him around so you were both facing each other, if his face got any hotter he felt like he'd catch on fire. "Y-you damn- you devil! you absolute witch! You think you- you think you can kill me? You think you can kill Licorice cookie?! Since we last talked I've been- I've been working hard on a cure to your damn curse, and you won't stop me now! I just need a few more things and I'll-"

he hated how the curse was making him weaker, the stutter in his voice, the way he couldn't keep eye contact with you, if he lived past this he was going to kill you. Licorice was about to start ranting again when he noticed something at the corner of your eyes, his breath hitched- There was no way, was this supposed to be the finishing move? The final act that killed him? Him making you cry? "D-don't you try that, y-you demon-" you cut him off, startling Licorice with your unusual tone. "Licorice I- thi-this whole curse joke was funny at first but..but I don't like it, did I do something to make you dislike me..? If I did-" you looked down, not wanting to look him in the eyes while you talked, That had to be what was supposed to end him. "Please just tell me..I'll leave you alone, I just wanna apologize for whatever I did."

Licorice felt a...a different ache in his chest, not the usual pains from thinking about you, this time the pain felt worse. "Y-you..I.." Licorice kept looking down at you, you glanced him and he turned his head, looking to the side, "If you..if you truly didn't curse me then who..who did? Who would try to kill me by making all my thoughts be about you...?" He mumbled the last part, apparently not quiet enough as it turns out, when he saw your head snap up. "Huh- what?? That's not.. Licorice can you tell me more about this uh..this curse?"

Licorice looked back down at you, your tears have stopped, it looks like you're blushing, what, were you cursed too? "...for.. months, months since we first met all of my thoughts..they've been plagued by you, it doesn't matter the time of day, what I'm doing, I can't get you out of my head, I start to feel sick, my face gets hot and sweaty, I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack the way my chest gets.. it's a curse, is it not? No normal person acts like this..!"

Licorice had shut his eyes when he began his explanation, fearing the face you'd make at him admitting weakness. And for good reason, you truly were a demon, you had started to giggle upon hearing his symptoms of the curse, it had to be because you- "I like you too, Licorice." He snapped his eyes open, mouth open in confusion as he looked down at you, You- you liked- you..you what? He..what? Huh? "W-witch, I have no idea what you m-mean..!" Licorice's face had started to heat up again, much to his dismay. "Nerd, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either, and it's cause I like you, I have a crush on you, why do you think I've been looking for you? I was gonna finally confess when we talked but.. apparently you thought wanting to kiss me was a curse?"

You smiled up at him, obviously taunting him with your curse. "Y-you- HEY! I said no such thing about- about kissing you! I wouldn't dream of it! Even if I actually have dreamt abou- THAT'S- that doesn't matter! You won't be able to convince me you didn't curse me..!"

Licorice tried to stop from looking at your lips, he truly tried not too, but he couldn't help himself because of the curse, the curse he was slowly starting to believe he didn't actually have. Did he..was this really all because of a....a crush? "Mhm? You've never thought about it? Because I have, a lot. If you still think you have a curse, maybe a kiss would break the spell, that's how it always goes, right?"

You giggled again as you stepped closer, making Licorice back into a wall until it was right behind him. Maybe he..maybe he really wasn't cursed, and if he was...a kiss does usually break a spell, what would be the harm..? "F..fine, just one kiss, you witch.."

Licorice tried to hold in a laugh when he saw your surprised face, did you expect him to just yell and try and curse you? Cute. He admitted it, you were cute. It made his chest feel the same as before, his heart beating so fast he felt like he'd die, his face warm with a blush, hands sweaty, But it was nice. You made him feel nice. Licorice let out a laugh as he looked down at you, "Come now, you're going to break this curse, yes? So hurry up and kiss me."

Perhaps it would take a few times to break the curse, the way your skin felt so soft when he placed his hand on your cheek, the way your lips felt even better than he imagined, the way he felt utter bliss when you two kissed.. Surely you'd have to do this again, and again, and again, and who knows how many more times. Breaking a curse was hard work, after all.

#My writing #fanfic writing #Cookie run #Cookie run fic #Cookie run reader insert #cookie run x reader #Licorice Cookie #Licorice Cookie fic #licorice cookie x reader #Licorice Cookie reader insert #Reader insert #xreader #gender neutral reader #Gender neutral fic #Licorice Cookie x you #Cookie run scenario #Licorice x you #Licorice x reader

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poppy-metal · 3 years

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Nah but your bully reader x izuku holy fuck its so good just thinking about how one day the reader just gets so fucking out of line that izuku drags her to his room and just goes to town putting her in her place. just absolutely railing her as the headboard smacks against the wall and saying such dirty things like "I'll teach you to stop being so mean to me "I'll show you how much of a man I can be" or my favorite "cmon scream my name let everyone know this lowlife dork is making you cream on his cock" awooga anyways finally as shes about to reach her climax he just stops completely only to look her dead in the eyes and say "tell me you love me cmon say it and ill keep going" but shes so stubborn that she just pouts with a red face panting heavily as she looks away unable to meet his gaze. however this only fuels izuku causing him to lift her chin up to meet his green eyes that seem to boar into her very soul shaking her to the core. he chuckles at her doey eyed expression before speaking once again "funny you spend all that time looking down on me and now you cant even look me in the eye" he begins teasing her by rubbing his angry red tip between her slick folds causing her to gasp as he slams back into her over and over again until her brain turns to mush and its not long before he claims his reward. all that can be heard over the slapping of skins and moans are "i love you izuku" and "please cum inside i need it" and who is izuku to deny this request ?

No bc this punched me in the actual gut :((

Its after awhile in your little secret relationship and izuku is frankly tired of being treated like he doesn’t matter to you when it’s so glaringly obvious you’re in love with him. He’s not your dirty secret, and he’s a soft, romantic boy. He wants to fucking hold your hand in the hall and buy you flowers and be able to kiss you whenever he wants, he love language is quality time and acts of service okay, he’s dying on the inside slowly because the only time you’re soft for him is on his cock, but it’s not enough.

So when a pretty, sweet girl smiles at him, and he know’s you’re watching he doesn’t try and bashfully reject her. He looks at you and makes sure you’re watching when he smiles and takes the slip of paper with her number on, slipping it in his back pocket. He expects the way your lip curls, the way your fists clench and the way you shove yourself out of your seat and stomp out of the common room. He’s already following you the second you’re out the door.

He catches you around the waist from behind, presses your back against his chest when you struggle and leans forward, lips at your ear. “Tell me why i shouldn’t go” he’s pleading, squeezing you tight. “Give me a reason”

You grit your teeth, actually feeling tears build because you’re so frustrated. With your feelings, with him, with all of it. “Fuck off. If you want some other bitch that’s on you. Hope she’s ready to be disappointed in bed”

He doesn’t even react to your jabs, his lips stay close to the back of your neck. “M’gonna have a big family one day, y’know?” he says softly. “I wanna be a dad,___. I want to be in love and have a woman who i can kiss and hold and share a life with. Who lets me make love to her”

The last part is whispered right against the shell of your ear. You squirm. “I want that woman to be you” he finishes, and you close your eyes, feeling the way your heart caves in your chest.

You don’t know why you can’t just be easy to love. Its what izuku deserves, and the picture he’s painted….it’s what you want. You want to be the reason izuku smiles and gets dimples, you want to be the person he reaches out to and loves so hard. But you’re scared of the overwhelming way that giving yourself over to your love for him would make you powerless. You’d never recover if he left you, never.

“I don’t wanna be your stupid housewife..” You mumble. Yes, you do. You feel his sigh against your hair, his breath moving it.

“You do.” Izuku turns you around to face him. He traces a thumb over your cheek. “I know you wanna be my girl, yeah? You don’t need to shout it from the rooftops or wear it like a badge but...i need to know you- i need to hear you say it”

You want to. You want to say it but - “im-” You look down, mumble, “im scared”

Izuku smiles down at you, his eyes softening as his thumb brushes over your lip, slides down your neck and then drops down to grab your hand. “I know you are. Won’t make you say it how i wanna hear it yet. We’ll take it slow, okay? But im gonna hear you say it. By the end of tonight” He grins. “Even if i have to drag it out of you with orgasms”

And later he does make you say it. Its not loud, or public, how he wants yet. But its a little give, to all your pushing. Even if he has to bully it out of you a little, has to drag the plush head of his dick through the soaked folds of your cunny and tease your little clit until you’re begging.

Its a little cruel, honestly. The way he makes you so vulnerable, gasping and weeping as he fucks you so, so slow, dragging his cock along your walls in a painfully tender glide, making you feel every inch, knowing you’re dying, gasping, needing it harder, deeper, faster. “Say it, baby” he groans against your mouth, working his hips in tiny barely there increments, barely feeding you his cock how you want it. Licking your upper lip as you cry and whimper. “Tell the little nerd you like to tease so much how much you love him, go on”

Your dig your nails into his freckled, flexing back as your eyes roll back, his pelvis grinding into your clit in sweet torture as you give in. “i-i love you, izuku. Please”

“Mm, i know” he says, and you’re to far gone to catch the smugness behind it. He rewards you by gripping you under your thighs and pulling your legs up, sliding into you in a heavy and deep thrust that has his balls clapping against the underside of your pussy as he fills it deep. “Love you too. So much. Gonna make you wanna be my girlfriend one day, and then my pretty little wife, and then” He grunts, grinding. “The mother of my children”

#ask #deku smut #bully!reader #izuku smut #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut

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ramzawrites · 3 years

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I've always liked the idea of eastern dragons, long bodied and often aquatic in nature. And ever since the movie Raya and the Last Dragon came out, I've only grown more enamored with them.

Then came the idea of the Sleepy Bois with a water dragon hybrid reader. I don't know, I just thought it'd be fun to see Phil freak out about a mystical dragon hybrid, Techno chilling out with another hybrid friend, and Tommy challenging this water dragon warrior to a fight. It could just be me, but I thought it would make a fun request.

And for fun, this water dragon hybrid wields a trident for a weapon, cuz you know, ocean n stuff.

A Dragon Friend - Reader and SBI

Pairings: None

Characters included: Philza, Wilbur Soot, Technoblade, Tommyinnit

Warnings: none

Series: a request :)

Summary: Wilbur brings home a new friend so his family can meet them. To Phil’s shock it is a Dragon Hybrid, just one of the rarest kind of people out there that tend to stay away from society. No big deal really. Then again of course Wilbur managed to befriend them.

Words count:

Authors Note: I am not too knowledgeable on easter Dragons so I generalized it more into the Dragons I know of, I hope this is fine :0

Wilbur threw open the gate that led into the front yard of his home.

Philza was currently kneeling in the dirt as he took care of the growing vegetables and other plants. It was his little hobby to take care of these plants, though he isn’t the only one who took care of them. Technoblade, the oldest child of his, begun taking interest in this little hobby of his as well. Though right now Philza was working alone. His clothes covered in dirt but still wearing gloves that protected his hands from it.

As he looked up, curious why suddenly the gate crashed shut, he could see an incredibly happy looking Wilbur standing in front of another teen.

He had to do a double take as he realizes who was standing next to him. Blue scales were growing along their jawline, sneaking at times into the face and going down their throat and arms. Ending at their fingertips. Philza also managed to spot unmistakably gills at the side of their throat, now closed shut due to them being in the air.

Though the thing that was probably the biggest give away to their nature was the long, elegant tail behind their legs. Swishing around nervously in the air. It was mesmerizing to see the scales moving around and glinting in the sun.

On their back was a shining and sharp looking Trident. The bright and colorful shine alone gave him idea enough of how incredibly well enchanted the weapon must be.

Philza threw his gloves off and walked closer to Wilbur, his face contorted into a mix of shock and worry while Wilbur looked like he just had the best day in a long while. For some reason he couldn’t help but suspect that Wilbur must have done something.

“Hey, dad! I wanna show you my new friend!”

“Friend? What do you mean friend?”

He needed to know more. During his travels he has only met a few Dragon Hybrids since they liked to keep to themselves. It was rare to meet one and he was pretty sure it was near to impossible to get them to leave their clan to follow someone else around like this. Knowing Wilbur something must have happened, then again, he was quite charismatic and has surprised Philza before with his people skills.

Wilbur nodded enthusiastically “Yes! This is Y/N and they are my cool friend! We met a few weeks ago.”

Well, that explained why he suddenly visited the ocean so often.

Y/N took a step forward and gave Phil a quick nod as a greeting “Hello, I hope this isn’t a bad time. Wilbur just told me so much about his family that I couldn’t help but be curious. He just wanted to help me satisfy my own curiosity towards people on the outside.”

And here was the explanation why they just followed Wilbur like this. They were curios and not afraid enough to follow up on it.

“Ah, okay. It’s, uh, fine. My name is Philza. Nice to meet you Y/N.”

It was obvious that Phil was still trying to wrap his head around this situation. It just kind of felt unreal and yet it just made sense. This family and the world were already so Ender damned weird, this might as well happen.

Wilbur didn’t seem to be bothered by his father’s clear confusion “Where are Techno and Tommy, by the way? Are they home?”

Phil slowly nodded “Yeah. Both should be in the house.”

“Thanks, Dad. Let’s go Y/N! You have to meet my brothers as well!”

He then grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled them along towards the old but sturdy wooden door that led into their home.

Before Wilbur could open it though Phil yelled out one more thing towards Y/N “If any of my sons are too much or just generally annoying don’t hesitate to get me, I also give you full permission to just tell them off.”

Y/N couldn’t give him an answer though since Wilbur just opened up the door and dragged them in but at this point they were used to Wilbur and taking the charge like this at times so all they did was follow along.

“Your father seems nice, even if a bit sur-“ but Y/N couldn’t finish the sentence. Wilbur pressed his finger against his lips, giving them the sign to be quiet. They were confused but begun following Wilbur as he slowly opened up a door to what Y/N assumed to be the living room.

In the middle of a couch, with his back turned towards the door, sat another teenager with pink hair and pink ears poking out of it.

They might have never met him, but Y/N could immediately tell that this must be Technoblade. The older one between the twins. Even if only by two minutes according to Wil.

Now, Y/N was very interested in meeting Technoblade as well since he too was a Hybrid and they had only been in contact with fellow Dragon Hybrids.

Though right now, Y/N was just watching.

Watching Wilbur who was sneaking up on his brother. His hands out, obviously he planned on somehow scaring him by suddenly touching his shoulder. And just as he got close enough to slam his hands down, Techno loudly shut his book.

The next thing Y/N heard was a bang and saw that Wilbur sank down to the ground, holding his nose and crying out in pain. Techno’s hand with the book in the air.

He slammed the book into Wilbur’s face.

Y/N let out a chuckle but more out of surprise than anything. They knew from Wilbur that Techno was an incredible fighter and had amazing reflexes but somehow they didn’t expect this.

“What the hell, Y/N. Here I am on the ground dying and all you do is laugh?”

They just rolled their eyes and helped Wilbur back up. His nose was a bit red but nothing more, he probably reacted more out of shock than anything.

Technoblade stood up with a sigh and turned around “You really think I couldn’t hear you? I knew as soon as I heard your sneaking steps what you were planning, nerd.”

With Techno now turned around Y/N couldn’t help but be amazed by his Hybrid features. Two huge tusk decorated his face, bristle like fur growing along his arms and now they could see that the ears were definitely that of a pig.

As Y/N stared at him and Wilbur was still cursing his brother out, Techno noticed how Y/N’s gaze was transfixed on him in awe.

He raised one of his eyebrows “Uh, hi?”

Y/N’s eyes widened “Oh! Sorry! My name is Y/N! Wilbur was so nice to show me around since I usually stay with my own clan.”

His own gaze fell then onto his brother who just nodded to show that this was indeed the truth “Mhm, yeah. Pretty much, also, I was so quiet! How did you hear me?”

As an answer Techno just pointed at one of his animal ears “I have better hearing, remember?”

Wilbur scoffed “Yeah, yeah. You are so much better than us. Better hearing, better nose and even better eyes, but we non-Hybrids are pretty cool too.” He then looked at Y/N expectantly as if to wait for them to support his statement.

But Y/N just squinted their eyes and took a good second to stare Wilbur down “Are you- You know who you are talking to, right? I can breathe under water, my eyes are better as well and I have a Ender damned tail.”

“Okay, maybe I talked to the wrong person.” He admitted.

Techno chuckled and moved next to Y/N and held his hand up, palm towards them. It took them a small moment to understand but their own palm soon clapped together with Techno’s.

“Hybrid Buddies?” he asked.

“Hybrid Buddies.” Y/N confirmed.

They might only really know Techno now for about a minute, but they could tell he mostly did this to infuriate Wilbur even more.

Wilbur just sighed and cupped his hands around his mouth “Tommy? Get to the living room for a sec!”

“Oh, are you getting backup?” Techno mused.

At this point Wilbur just looked unamused, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he waited for the youngest brother to react.

The sudden sound of rumbling and loud steps from above seemed to be this answer.

“What do you want Wil! I was working on something! Wait, who is that?” Tommy begun yelling out as soon as he arrived at the stairs only to stop once he walked into the room properly to see Y/N who greeted him with a little wave.

“This is Y/N. I met them a while ago and wanted to show them where we live.” Wilbur put his arm around his younger brother as he begun explaining.

Tommy seemed to be incredibly confused but nonetheless intrigued. His eyes darting from Y/N to Wilbur and only for a split second jumping to Techno “Okay? Hello, Y/N. I’m Tommy.” He then squirmed away from beneath Wilbur’s arm, taking a closer look at them “Woah! What are you? You look awesome! Is that a trident? I thought they were super rare! It’s also enchanted! I mean… you seem to be alright, I guess.”

Y/N laughed, more at the reactions of both Wilbur and Techno who seemed to grow incredibly tired as Tommy went along with his usual spiel “Oh! I’m a Water Dragon Hybrid! Also, yeah, I got that trident from my parents as a way to protect myself. We primarily live in or close of water, so, tridents are incredibly useful to us. Also, they mean a lot to us as well.”

They then got the trident off their back to let Tommy have a better look at it. He looked awestruck. Not only at the revelation that Y/N was a Dragon Hybrid but that weapon seemed to really have enamored him somehow.

A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes as he looked back up “This is cool but nothing against me and my sword.”

Technoblade seemed to be bewildered at that “You just have an iron sword what are you talking about?”

But Wilbur put his hand on Techno’s shoulder “No, no. Let him. Let’s just watch.” It was clearly Wilbur’s chaos was getting the better of him and Techno was too tired to deal with that.

“Your sword? Are you sure? Even if you have an enchanted iron sword, I’m pretty sure it would be nothing against a trident, especially since I am very well trained with this weapon.” Y/N seemed almost smug.

Tommy puffed up his chest and placed his hands at his sides “But my father is the one and only Philza and he taught me everything! There is no way you even stand a chance against me! Fight me and I’ll prove it to you!”

Y/N rolled their shoulders “Okay, little one, let’s get outside and fight! I’ll show you.”

“Little one? Little one?!” Tommy repeated flabbergasted. How dare they call him little.

The sound of the closing front door rung out through the house which was soon followed by an annoyed groan “I swear by Ender. I leave you alone for a few minutes and I already hear Tommy screaming about wanting to fight our guest. Amazing first impression for Y/N.”

He appeared at the door, gloves still on this time. His expression pulled down into a strict frown as he looked around at the scene in front of him.

Both Tommy and Y/N were standing in the middle of the room, turned towards each other due to their bickering while Techno and Wilbur stood to the side. Techno had a skeptical look about him while Wilbur couldn’t help but smirk at the argument of the two.

He purposefully didn’t say it, but Y/N was being trained as a full-fledged warrior of their clan. It was their job to keep off mobs and unwanted guests away from their family. Tommy would have no chance against them, but he couldn’t help but still wanting to see it. Besides Y/N wouldn’t seriously hurt him.

Honestly if anything Wilbur really wanted to see Techno and Y/N fight. In Wilbur’s eyes Techno was definitely the best fighter he knew but Y/N was a close second and while he couldn’t understand it, he also knew that those two would probably bond over fighting each other.

Tommy pointed at Y/N “Well, they started it! Just strutting in here with a weapon! I have to protect our home!”

Philza shook his head, already done with his mischief “Is that right?” He directed that question towards the other teens.

Wilbur just continued smiling while Y/N and Techno just shook their heads.

“Alright. Tommy, stop lying and no fighting. How about you guys just help me make food, at least then I know what you guys are up to.”

This seemed to pull Wilbur back out of his chaotic loving thoughts “Oh! That reminds me! Can we make cookies? Y/N never had any.”

Even Techno, who acted calm and collected, looked shocked towards Y/N. They lived for this long with never eating any cookies? Now that just seemed wrong.

“Sure. Let’s make some cookies then. Is that alright Y/N?”

Y/N’s eyes widened “Oh? Uh, yes! I would love to! It seems to be a big thing that I never had any so I really want to try them!”

Excited Tommy threw his arms in the air “Cookies!”

Laughing at his little brothers’ antics, Wilbur joined in and cheered as well “Cookies!” He then followed said brother and his father out the living room and into the kitchen. Leaving Y/N and Techno behind.

While Y/N was excited as well they were still a bit overwhelmed with this sudden reaction right after being threatened by Tommy. Techno seemed to notice this and put one of his hands on their shoulder “Don’t worry too much about what Tommy said. He was seriously impressed by you, but he unfortunately has an incredibly huge ego with nothing to back it, hence the insults and threats. So don’t worry too much about it. Wilbur seems to really enjoy your company and I too think you are… interesting company. Yes, let’s say that. If you are really such a great fighter, we definitely have to spar at some point though. I rarely get the chance to test my skills against other people besides my family and mobs.”

“I would love that.”

“Nice. Let’s join the others. Seriously, you have never eaten any cookies? How is that possible?”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x Y/N #dream smp reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #SBI fanfiction #sbi reader insert #sbi x reader #Anonymous #anon request #ramza writes

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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thebrightsessions · 4 years

Photo

Entertainment Spotlight: Kristian Bruun

Toronto-born Kristian Bruun currently stars in Carter (IMDbTV/SONY) alongside Jerry O’Connell. Most recently, he played Donnie Hendrix on the award-winning hit sci-fi series Orphan Black (BBC America) and also recurred for six seasons on Murdoch Mysteries (CBC), playing Constable “Slugger” Jackson. Recent TV appearances include recurring roles in The Handmaid’s Tale (Hulu) and 11.22.63 (Hulu). Kristian’s notable film credits include the recent thriller Ready or Not (Fox Searchlight), Slamdance ‘16 Official Selection, How To Plan An Orgy In A Small Town directed by Jeremy LaLonde; Berlin ‘15 Official Selection, Life, the James Dean biopic directed by Anton Corbijn, starring Robert Pattinson, Dane DeHaan and Sir Ben Kingsley. He also appeared in Amy Jo Johnson’s directorial debut, The Space Between and her TIFF ’19 follow-up Tammy’s Always Dying, Jeremy LaLonde’s next feature The Go-Getters as well as Mary Goes Round directed by Molly McGlynn and starring Aya Cash. Upcoming: The thriller mini-series Departure (Peacock TV).

How did you get involved with The Bright Sessions/ The AM Archives?

I had just worked with Lauren on another podcast she was writing/directing called Passenger List (a scripted thriller starring the amazing Kelly Marie Tran) and we had such a blast working with each other. She asked if I wanted to play Oliver and it was a no-brainer on my end. Lauren is super talented and so much fun to work with, I had to say yes!

You’ve starred in over 100 episodes of television. How do the roles that you play affect you when you play them for multiple episodes or seasons, and does this differ from roles that you’ve only played once?

I think one of the weirder parts of this job is how personal it is. Because these characters are being interpreted by me, you can get really attached to them. The closer that character is to you, the more of a hold then can have on you. That’s why I think it’s very important to be able to step away and leave the character at work. That said when you play a character for multiple seasons, saying goodbye to them can very emotional and heart-breaking. It’s like a mini mourning when you put them away for good.

What’s the last thing you do before you begin recording and/or the camera starts rolling?

I’m usually thinking of where my character is coming from. What has just happened to them (now, five minutes ago, an hour ago, days…). Mind you, that’s all worked out in your research and prep work. You always want to enter a scene as if you’re already in it. If you’ve done your work right, you can take a deep breath, ground yourself, and go.

If you could get the definite answer to any question, what would you ask or want to know?

How can we time travel? Seriously. I’m such a history nerd. I just want to be able to go back and see great moments/civilizations/truths in history. I DON’T WANT TO CHANGE A THING! I just want to be a witness. A time ghost tourist if you will.

Can you share your favorite piece of Bright Sessions / AM Archives fan art?

It’s a no-brainer why I love this piece of art [by @thefigureinthecorner. It’s an important, beautiful message and an image of joy. (I’m guessing that’s Oliver on the right. lol)

Thanks so much for taking the time, Kristian! Give The Right Way a relisten right here.

#entertainment spotlight #kristian brunn #the bright sessions

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #anna #grace #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ocs #hattie #lion pride

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 3 years

Text

I’m on mobile, so ya know, but for @five-rivers @floralflowerpower and I just checked, lemme amend to @uwuplasmiusuwu

This is Fathering a Phantom

It was a bright summer day in Amity Park, Danny Fenton was in the grove - no one wanted to say “Amity Park Park” - doing a handstand while braced against a tree. “See? I told you I could do it.”

“You’re not using your powers to float into that position, are you?”

“Sam, I am offended that you would imply that I, of all people, would cheat at things with levitation.” Danny laughed, flopping down onto his belly in the grass. “Appalled, really, how dare you?”

Laughing, Tucker ripped up a handful of grass from his side and sprinkled it down into Danny’s bird’s nest of hair. “No of course, you are the most noble in character there is. As we have seen, you are a superhero through and through. Complete with bedsheet cape.”

Danny groaned while the three of them laughed and shook his head. “Alright, listen.”

“You, wearing black and white alone, looked at me and asked if I was willing to wear bright primary colors, Danny.” Sam patted his shoulder blade and Danny rolled his eyes. “A ghost asked a goth to wear bright colors. You shall never live that down.”

“There are pastel goths,” Danny countered with a pout. “I checked, there are goths who wear bright colors. It’s a mindset, not a fashion statement.” Tucker draped yet more grass on Danny, who turned to stare at his best friend and deadpanned, “Dude that’s kinda gay.”

Tucker snorted and laughed himself back into the tree they were sitting in front of. “H-how exactly is that gay?”

“Grass, in flower language, represents homosexual love,” Sam supplied.

Tucker covered his heart with a hand and gasped loudly. “Oh goodness me, I, a bisexual nerd, cannot be gay good sir and madam, that is simply unacceptable. Truly, this is the end of my world.”

“I will write you a gorgeous eulogy seasoned with memes,” Danny said, patting Tucker’s thigh as the latter flopped over, putting on his best ‘dying’ act. Then a chill completely at odds with the summer sun shining down on them went up his spine and out of his mouth as a cloud of icy mist. “Shit.” Danny braced for impact, a dome of green light erecting itself over the teens just in time for five missiles to strike it and explode.

When the smoke cleared and Danny transformed in a flash of light – pale skin tan, snow white hair, glowing green eyes, black and white jumpsuit, all the staples of half dead teendom – Danny locked on to his attacker. A large, mechanized man with flaming green mohawk was grinning down at him like a predator baring teeth to prey. “You’ll have to survive to his funeral first, whelp, and I assure you that’s not happening. I’ve gotten a few upgrades since last we fought, and The Hunt is on.”

While Skulker popped out a new cannon, Danny turned to check on his friends, both of whom were pulling out their own Fenton ecto-pistols. When he turned back there was an explosion of golden light and the screeching of tearing metal, and Skulker was missing half of his mech before Danny could even quip at him. Danny dropped his shield, turning to stare at the source of light with everyone else, and found his jaw had dropped very literally to the ground.

Something that could be a bear mixed with a goat, an electric eel, and at least three kinds of birds was aiming a bow at Skulker, an arrow made of golden light already knocked and shining brighter with every second. Each feather was a different color, oscillating in intensity, but overall, it was both hard to look at and impossible to look away from. “Hi there,” the ghost said with a voice that could have been a thousand people speaking in tandem. “You are going to leave in the next five seconds, or I am going to traumatize these children by showing them just how one Ends a ghost. Four. Three.”

Danny had never seen Skulker fly away so fast, especially with only one turbine to boost himself. He couldn’t even blame him, not with the burning fountain of energy beating their kaleidoscopic wings in front of him, aiming at Skulker until buildings were in the way. Danny charged up an ectoblast of his own even as the arrow dissipated. “Well, ever since all this ghost stuff I didn’t believe in guardian angels. Get lost in the Zone?” Much to Danny’s pleasant surprise, the angelic ghost laughed.

“Gods, your aura is screaming ‘fight me,’ did you know that?” The ghost turned to Danny and all the animal features melted into each other until Danny was looking at what could almost pass for a regular human being. Blond hair, brown eyes, some weird old-timey robes, and a single pair of feathery wings that reflected the light catching them like crystal glass. In the next moment, Danny was being dragged into a tight embrace, cut off from the world by arms and feathers alike, and he blinked several times, tense as a bowstring.

“I’m gonna need you to back up before I zap you,” Danny said with his hands up and a buzz traveling from his chest toward his fingertips. The ghost backed up, hands held up where everyone could see them, and wings half folded around him like a cloak.

“Apologies, my response to seeing kids almost getting hurt is to hug them. I should’ve asked first.”

“That’s very true,” Sam said with narrowed eyes. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Yeah, we don’t get many new ghosts around here who know how to speak English,” Tucker said. “Or any who help us.”

The strangely human looking ghost took a deep breath, eyes glowing from brown to golden-orange and clasped their hands together in front of their face. “Well, that explains a few things I’ve observed of you in the past two minutes. Right, so, first thing’s first; hi, I’m Tobias Lumano, you kids can call me Toby. He/him and all that.”

Danny shook the hand extended to him, ignoring the fact that a hand was held out to all three of them. “Danny, Phantom currently.”

“Tucker Foley.”

“Sam Manson. What exactly did you observe of us?” Sam still held her pistol, ready for a fight. Toby chuckled and shook his head.

“Well, Danny here is screaming ‘fight me,’ with his body language and if all you’ve ever met are hostile adult ghosts then that makes sense. You’ve got that Still Warm feel to you, like you’re only recently dead. Which makes the rumors about you impossible, of course, cause I’m pretty sure none of you are even close to being adult humans unless people look a lot younger per quarter of their life in this Realm.” Toby settled with his wings crossed over his chest, relaxed but not quite limp, and Danny cocked his head to the side.

“How do you even see with those glowing in your face all the time?”

“What about Danny screams ‘fight me,’ exactly? He’s totally chill right now.” Tucker gestured at all of Danny, bobbing idly up and down on some kind of current that he had yet to identify.

“Oh, my dear summer child, ghosts communicate in ways that non-psychic humans cannot perceive fully. You see this?” Toby brushed a feather against Danny’s glow and the teen made a face, drifting away from the odd sensation. The glow stretched with his movement before Toby backed off. “That’s your aura, little man, and it’s currently positioned in a way that’s sort of giving the finger to everyone around you. How long have you been liminal if you don’t know about your aura?”

“How long have I been what now?”

“I think he’s talking about you being half ghost,” Tucker said, whipping out his PDA and tapping away at the screen. “We’ve never actually heard a term for it before other than Sidney Poindexter calling Danny a halfa. No offense to Poindexter but that’s a really dumb name.”

Toby laughed, covering his face with a hand, and shaking his head. “Right, ok, you’ve got a lot to learn, but I think I can help with that.”

“We should probably take this discussion somewhere a bit more private than the open park,” Sam hissed. “This is supposed to be a secret, remember Danny?”

Danny rolled his eyes and turned his head around 360 degrees. “There’s no one here right now, Sam.”

“Well, if you’re keeping this a secret then yeah, you should probably find somewhere secure to talk about this at.” Toby rolled his eyes and became translucent, spreading his wings and circling around the three of them. “Here, you take this feather and just break it when you feel ready to talk with me. I’ve got some things to figure out around here.” One such feather fell into Sam’s hand, taking on the hue of several leaves in a gradient, and Toby winked at Danny before vanishing entirely from view.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #fanfiction #rexy writes #fanfic #OCs #Tobias Lumano #Skulker #get wrecked Skulker #i hope i tagged everyone right

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cocobeanncteez · 4 years

Text

ATEEZ Wooyoung- School President (Oneshot)

Genre: light angst, suggestive/steamy, high school au.

Pairing: SchoolPresident!Wooyoung x badgirl!reader

Warnings: none.

"Miss L/N, detention after school till 4 p.m." your chemistry teacher said, making you mentally groan. It was the last class of the day and you were dying to go home, but now you had to stay for an extra hour. All your classmates turned to look at you, but they weren't surprised. "You still haven't submitted the assignment."

"Can I just submit it tomorrow?" you asked in a bored tone.

"No, you were supposed to submit it a week ago," she said, gathering her stuff to leave the class. "Detention with Mrs. Hwang today." You heard people around you snicker. Well, fuck. Mrs. Hwang was the strictest teacher in school. Even you were scared of her despite your badass attitude.

You got up from your seat, leaving the classroom with an annoyed expression on your face.

"Detention again, Y/N?" your bestfriend asked as she made her way to you with your other friends.

You rolled your eyes. "Ms. Jang will never fucking let me live in peace. I'll see you guys tomorrow," you said, making your way to detention.

You were surprised to find the room empty. Usually, there would always be about three or five students. Since no one was here, you decided to ditch; you would skip school the next day so that your teachers will forget about it. You turned around to leave, but ended up bumping into someone, slightly startling yourself.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at your school president and heartthrob—also called 'senior's eye candy' at your school—Jung Wooyoung.

You had to admit, he was certainly the most handsome guy you've ever seen. Jung Wooyoung was absolutely perfect. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. You were sure half your school tried to hit on him despite the fact that he has a girlfriend.

"Unfortunately, I'm here to make sure that you won't escape detention as Mrs. Hwang is busy, so take a seat," he said, moving around you to sit on a chair and taking a notebook out of his bag.

You always found Jung Wooyoung very interesting. Other guys like him—the nerdy ones—can't even talk to you, let alone look you in the eye. Jung Wooyoung was the complete opposite.

You sat on one of the chairs, immediately taking your phone out.

"You can't use your phone here," Wooyoung said, not looking up at you from his notebook. "Why don't you complete your assignment?"

You scoffed. "And if I don't? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing," he said, looking at you. "It's not affecting me in any way, so I don't care. However, Ms. Jang is gonna fail you again if you don't submit your assignment."

You knew he was right. And that annoyed you; you really just wanted to shut his pretty mouth up.

"Whatever," you mumbled, taking out a notebook and the assignment sheet to start working on the reactions you had to write.

However, you were completely blank. You didn't know or understand a word given on the sheet. You bit your lip as you stared at the sheet, wondering what to do.

Finally, you took out your phone and googled all the reactions, easily finishing the assignment in less than half an hour.

"You know, you won't be able to copy during finals," Wooyoung said, closing his notebook. "Even if you're copying now, at least learn what you've copied."

"I didn't ask for your comments," you retort. He was about to say something, but his phone rang.

"Hey, baby," he answered. " . . . I'm in charge of detention today . . . Oh, that's okay," his face fell slightly. " . . . No, it's alright. We can go some other day . . . Hmm, I love you too. Bye!"

You snorted, feeling bad for the boy. You were surprised someone as smart as him hasn't figured out that his girlfriend has been cheating on him. You've seen his girlfriend shoving her tongue down random people in the club, and hitting on people at your school. You remembered how shocked you were when you first found out that she was cheating on him; because why would anyone cheat on someone as perfect as Jung Wooyoung?

"You can leave now," Wooyoung said, getting up from his seat. "Detention is over." You nodded, leaving as fast as you can, just wanting to go home and sleep.

"Your grades aren't very bad, but they aren't great either, Y/N," your class teacher said. "You'll get into an average college with these grades. But I know you can do much better. So I've asked one of the prefects to tutor you in Chemistry and Physics."

You groaned. "Can I do it by myself?"

"You wouldn't do it by yourself," she said. "Anyway, Jung Wooyoung will be tutoring you. Discuss and decide your timings with him. I expect you to score well on the next exam. I do not want to see you fail in any subject again." Before you could say anything, the door to the staff room opened, revealing none other than Jung Wooyoung. "Ah, Wooyoung, I just told Y/N that you will be tutoring her," she said. "I'm expecting you to do a great job."

Wooyoung smiled. "I won't let you down, Mrs. Park. But Y/N must put in efforts or else there's no point," he stated in a polite tone, and you rolled your eyes.

"Yes, that's true," she turned to look at you. "I'm expecting nothing but your best efforts, Y/N." She's always expecting something, huh, you thought. You only smiled, bowing politely.

"I'll do my best."

"What the actual fuck is this?" you mumbled, staring at the lengthy derivation written in Wooyoung's notebook. He rolled his eyes, so tired of hearing you say that to literally everything you saw written in his notebook.

"Ah, why did they have to make me tutor you of all people?" he whined. "You clearly haven't paid attention in class for even half a second."

"No one told you to accept it," you said, ignoring his last comment.

"I had to," he scoffed, stretching his arms out, making you glance at the veins on his arms. "Extra credits, you know?"

"Nerd," you muttered under your breath. He heard you, but didn't say anything. He began teaching you how to derive it; you paid attention for the first few seconds before zoning out. When you zoned back in, he asked you to explain what he just explained. You bit your lip, thinking of what to say.

He sighed. "You didn't pay attention again."

"I zoned out, sorry."

"That's what you said for the previous derivation," he said, a disappointed look on his face while he packed up his things.

"You're leaving already?" you asked, glancing at the time on your phone; you still had twenty minutes left.

"I'm not going to waste my time teaching you right now," he said. "You clearly aren't in the mood to focus." You only scoffed, watching him leave the library. You bit your lip, feeling kinda bad for not paying attention when he was making an effort to teach you.

The look of disappointment he showed you had somehow made you determined to prove that you could focus and do better.

You were at Wooyoung's house, sitting on his bed and scrolling through your social media while waiting for him to finish changing out of his uniform. You spent an entire two weeks studying your ass off, and you were proud you made a big improvement, thanks to Wooyoung. He was quite surprised that you were actually making an effort to understand whatever he taught you. You both even became friends, and you were quite happy about that.

"I'm done," he said, coming out of his bathroom, making you look up from your phone. You held your breath at the sight of Wooyoung dressed in grey sweatpants and a black tank top. You couldn't stop yourself from checking him out: the veins running down his muscled arms, his exposed collarbones, his sharp jawline, his plump lips . . .

You were so immersed into checking him out, you didn't realize he was doing the same to you. He loved how your uniform skirt rid up your thighs, and how another two buttons on your shirt were unbuttoned, exposing a little bit of your cleavage. Before you knew it, he was slowly making his way towards you, eyes now locked with yours.

"Let's start, hmm?" he said with a smirk; he knew you were checking him out.

You clear your throat a little. "Yeah, let's start."

You spent the next half an hour trying to pay attention to whatever Wooyoung was teaching you. It didn't help that he absentmindedly placed his hand on your knee, or brushed your hand with his; he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Your mind kept wandering to the things you want him to do to you right now on his bed.

" . . . and now you should tell me," he leaned a little close to you with a smirk, making your heartbeat speed up. "Which formula should be used?"

"Fuck this," you muttered, pushing the books aside before straddling Wooyoung's lap.

"Took you long enough," he chuckled, and you crashed your lips on his. He instantly kissed you back, hands moving to grip your waist. You wouldn't admit it to anyone, but you have been dreaming about kissing Wooyoung the second he talked back to you a year ago.

You pulled away to litter his neck in kisses, sucking the skin gently. He groaned softly, making you smirk. "Fan of neck kisses?"

"You have no idea," he said, hands moving underneath your skirt to grip your bare inner thighs. He gave it a squeeze, making you involuntarily grind down on him. He moaned at the feeling, encouraging you to do it again. You moved your lips back to his, grinding on him even more. Wooyoung's hands slipped into your panties, grabbing your ass to help you grind down on him faster. The friction made you moan, craving for more. You tugged on his shirt, breaking the kiss to let him pull it off. You ran your hand down his toned torso in awe, loving the feeling of his abs beneath your fingertips. Your eyes widened at the tattoo above his hip bone. "You have a tattoo?!"

Wooyoung gripped your hips, moving you off of him so that he could hover over you. "Mhmm, bet you never expected the nerdy school president to have a tattoo, huh?" Your hands moved to his hair, playing it with while he began to kiss your neck, driving you crazy.

Wooyoung kissed down your chest till where your shirt was unbuttoned. He glanced up at you, fingers toying with the buttons. "Can I?" he asked. You nodded, letting him unbutton your shirt and slip it off you. You sucked in a breath when he ran his fingers over the lacy material of your bra.

"Take it off," you whined, making him chuckle.

"Patience, baby," he said, one hand gently rubbing your thigh.

But you really didn't have any patience right now.

You brought his lips to yours while you moved his hand to touch you where you desperately needed him, surprising him a little. He kissed you back hungrily while his finger moved on your clothed clit, applying pressure, making you get wetter. Your moans made him smirk; he loved how he was the reason behind it.

You both got startled at the sudden sound of his garage opening. He halted his movements, pulling away from you instantly.

"One of my parents is back from work," he said, quickly putting on his tank top and handing you your uniform shirt. You quickly buttoned it and straightened out your hair; you really did not want Wooyoung's strict parents to suspect anything since they already did not like the idea of him tutoring you in his final year of high school.

Wooyoung's father knocked on his bedroom door before opening it, finding you and Wooyoung busy writing equations.

"Oh, hey, dad! How was work?" Wooyoung asked with a sweet, innocent smile like as if he wasn't smirking a few minutes ago while touching you.

"Hello, Mr. Jung," you said politely.

"Hello, Y/N," he said. "Work was all right, as usual. How is your tutoring session going?"

"Good, dad," Wooyoung said, trying to control himself from smirking. "It's going really great."

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

Nerd 15

Previously on Nerd

It hadn’t been a particularly good sleep. Lexa felt like she woke up every hour or so, each time checking to make sure the softly snoring girl beside her was still there, still asleep. Despite her own tossing and turning, Clarke didn’t seem to move much, just curled up tightly into herself, against Lexa’s side. Lexa kind of liked the feeling of the other body in her bed. She kind of liked that she was the person Clarke wanted.

Sometime after the tenth to twelfth time she woke up, Lexa realized the sun was up, and she couldn’t fight with her body waking any longer. Clarke didn’t move, and the night weighed on her girlfriend.

With a certain effort, Lexa decided to extract herself from the bed, even though Clarke didn’t seem to notice. It actually appeared as if Clarke was a very sound sleeper, as Lexa moved around the room and bumped the edge of her elbow on her desk and hissed at the contact. But as she stood still, she realized Clarke didn’t budge a bit.

Lexa scrolled through her phone as she tugged on some fresh clothes, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Clarke wasn’t peaking for some weird reason. She didn’t want Clarke to know how curious she was about the party before she arrived, but a part of her was incredibly interested in what might have panned out.

Like a thief, Lexa tugged on socks and buttoned her pants as she danced through the door in her attempt to remain as quiet as humanly possible. It took her a minute to close to door, watching it slowly inch toward the clasp, and finally it clicked nearly silent. She pushed her hair out of her face and slid into the bathroom, shoving a toothbrush into her mouth as she leaned against the counter and scrolled through the feed of Bellamy Blake’s infamous party.

As she scrubbed she watched the night happen in glimpses. She watched her girlfriend taking shots. She watched her girlfriend in that bikini. She watched her girlfriend look like she was desperately chasing an escape and numbness and it made Lexa mad for her. Lexa spit and rinsed and brushed and decided it was a good idea to scroll through Bellamy’s posts and she couldn’t understand how Clarke could like such different people. Bellamy Blake held week long parties and won state championships and got scouted. Lexa made movies and played board games and couldn’t figure out how to take a bra off.

With a final rinse she called her sister, hoping the time difference would mean she was awake, but as she bounded down the steps, she was met with a voicemail and furrowed. She needed research and information. Anya knew about all of this.

“You’re up early for someone having a sleepover with their girlfriend,” her mother greeted her as she looked up from the newspaper spread out across the kitchen island. Her father looked up over the edge of the sports section before looking back down.

“I told you we didn’t have to worry,” he muttered, flapping the paper out. Lexa rolled her eyes and took a seat.

“It wasn’t a sleepover.”

“Your girlfriend spent the night in your bed. I’d call it a sleepover, and I’d say we’re pretty cold parents for allowing it.”

“I appreciate it, but nothing was going to happen.”

“Good, because we discussed how alcohol can alter perception and consent--”

“Yes, yes,” Lexa sighed and reached for an apple as her father droned on yet again, hoping to avoid another sex talk. “I know, Dad.”

They all remained in a respective silence while working past the moment. It was weird, to want to talk to someone, let alone to have anything to talk about, but Lexa felt this need to figure something out, though she wasn’t sure what it would be. She wished her sister had just picked up the phone.

“So is Clarke…”

“Still asleep.”

“Did you have fun at the party?”

“I wasn’t there long,” Lexa shrugged. “I was at Luna’s working on our submission until late. Gus was there, so I knew people.”

She didn’t mention Michelle from math and her bikini. That felt inappropriate.

“How’s Clarke doing?” her mother pressed, sipping from her coffee again, warily watching her daughter.

“She’s… I don’t know. Sad. Mad. Stuck. Overwhelmed.”

“It was nice that you went to get her. I appreciate you telling us what’s going on instead of trying to sneak around. Anya did that. I can’t tell you how many times I had to pretend not to notice boys sneaking around the yard.”

“Really?”

“We trust you both,” her father explained. “We just appreciate you doing making us have to stretch it so far.”

“And we like Clarke, so we’re happy to help.”

“I don’t really know what else to do, you know?” she muttered, wiping her mouth and leaning against the counter, her knee coming up on the stool. “I think I’d be a little upset too if I were in her shoes, so I would want to probably do a bunch of stuff, but also I don’t want her to be upset.”

Lexa’s father looked at her and then to his wife. She cocked her head and gave him a look, to which he returned a shrug and ushered her to do something. They were stuck as well because no parenting book prepared them for teenagers. And Anya was very different.

“You can’t do anything,” he finally offered.

“Tim!” his wife warned.

“It’s true. You can’t make this better. It’s between Clarke and her mother and her father. But you can be there for her, and try to encourage her to be healthy about grief and pain. You have some experience, I’d say.”

Lexa looked back at him and clenched her lips, worrying the bottom one as she mulled over his words.

“And as much as we love what you want to do and be for Clarke, please don’t forget who you are in all of this. You have needs nad you have goals. Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.”

“I know.”

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.”

“Your father’s right though,” her mother continued. “You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.”

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“What?”

“I’d haunt you,” Tim decided before turning back to his paper. “I’d haunt you really hard.”

“I’m done with both of you today,” she decided, tossing her part of the paper in his lap as she walked through the living room. “It’s not even eight and I’m retreating to my office. I hope you’re both proud.”

The pair shared a smile and shrugged as she disappeared down the hall.

“You know, just because we gave you one sleepover, I hope you don’t get too comfortable asking. This was an emergency. It’s always okay in an emergency, and you know the difference.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have golf in a bit, but this afternoon we could do some driving practice if you wanted?”

“Sounds good,” Lexa smiled.

For no reason at all, except maybe utter relief that she didn’t have to deal with the same problems Clarke did, she hugged her dad’s neck lazily over the back of the couch before making her way back upstairs.

XXXXXXXXXX

The vague memories of the night lingered like the stale taste of terrible vodka and beer, and Clarke smacked her lips, hoping to find any kind of liquid to get rid of the dry mouth. But her eyes felt heavy and glued shut, and her stomach felt like it was currently on the spin cycle, so moving wasn’t entirely feasible.

It had been dumb. It’d been stupid, even. Possibly as far as moronic, to go to Bellamy’s party, but it was the best alternative and boy did it feel nice to escape. Even the current state she found herself in was a welcomed punishment from feeling fine and being unable to exist in the world. Her current physical ailments felt like finally, the universe was manifesting itself, and she could fix the swirling stomach and cottonmouth. She could fix the spinning and soreness and bruises from God-knew what happened last night.

There wasn’t much else to be done, she suspected. Fix this moment, this hour, this day, and hope to survive to another one. It all had to end at some point.

Clarke finally managed to open her eyes, a feat she was certain no other human could have accomplished. She looked around Lexa’s room and gratefully accepted the water bottle and aspirin waiting beside the bed.

It took until halfway chugged, that she realized she was empty and the room was quiet. So she took a breath and held her stomach, certain she could hold it down. Carefully, she dressed, stealing Lexa’s old track sweats and an older soccer shirt, before making her way down the hall in search of something to fill her stomach.

“Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.”

“I know.”

Clarke paused at the top of the stairs when she heard the family talking. It felt like it was about her. She knew it had to be. It made her want to vomit.

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.”

“Your father’s right though. You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.”

It was hard to be the subject of needing things. Clarke wasn’t someone who needed anyone. She wasn’t someone who wanted or needed to depend on anyone, and yet there was a girl, a girl who was too afraid to make a move, who imagined the world in terms of movie scenes and interpreted her own existence in the great world as a cosmic joke, always waiting for the punchline-- and this girl wanted to fix things.

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“What?”

It hadn’t been a joke, but it made Clarke smile. No one expected that Lexa was serious, and she wanted to know the answer. There was shuffling and moving, and Clarke crept her way back to Lexa’s room.

She felt even dumber than she thought possible for going to see Bellamy. She wouldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. The words echoed in her head. She meant it, she was certain. She wouldn’t.

“You’re awake,” Lexa grinned as she quietly closed the door behind her only to find her girlfriend sitting in her bed.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“Mhm, we’ll see.”

“Don’t be mean to me, I’m sick.”

“You’re hungover.”

“You don’t know what it feels like, do you?” Clarke accused, accepting the orange and another bottle of water that was handed to her as her girlfriend joined her in bed.

“Don’t see much appeal.”

“It always seems like a good idea at the time…”

Lexa just shrugged and crossed her legs. She ran her thumb along the faded script on the side of Clarke’s knee.

“I should head home,” she decided softly. “Sleep this off and such.”

“You could sleep here. I’m just going to work on the car a bit. Maybe go for a run. I have homework to finish.”

“I have to go home at some point.”

“Maybe.”

“It was very sweet of you to come get me.”

“I’m just glad you texted.”

“I’m not going to be like this, you know?”

“You can be however you want.”

It was a sweet sentiment that Clarke didn’t have the mental capacity to sit with, she decided, because she wasn’t ready to decide to be anything. But tomorrow, maybe, she’d think about it. She knew what she didn’t want to be, and that seemed like something, at least.

“I texted Raven to come get me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I needed last night to cleanse myself, I think. I need today to regroup.”

“You have a very weird process,” Lexa decided.

Clarke just chuckled and leaned forward, burying her face in Lexa’s thigh and sighing.

XXXXXXXXXX

For the moment, the very tiny, very quick moment, everything felt like it was caught up, and Lexa allowed herself a few moments of quiet in the garage, because come hell or high water, she was going to finish the car by the last day of school. SATs were done, finally, and something that didn’t need to be explicitly worried about until scores were released in a few weeks. Her prom outfit was already purchased and prepared. Homework and studying were done. Sports were over for the season and conditioning wasn’t set to start for another two months, though she’d start her own soon enough. Her girlfriend was at work and then going off to a cheer competition for the weekend. Luna was putting the finishing touches on their film school application project. And anyone else that might ask Lexa to do anything was promptly ignored.

Two weeks before spring break, and Lexa was feeling high on her on efficiency.

All in all, Lexa decided that she had at least three days to power through as much as she could with her dad in a final push before sending it off to the paint appointment.

She hadn’t counted on her sister though, and as her phone blared, interrupting the music playing over the speakers, she smacked her head on the body of the car and slid herself from under it, grumbling the entire time.

“Don’t you have fancy plans. It’s a Friday night,” she chided the eldest.

“I’m getting ready, I was just thinking about you.”

“Gross.”

“Because I ran into a girl that asked about you and I had no idea you had a friend at CMU, let alone a drop dead gorgeous film student.”

Lexa furrowed and twirled her wrench around before trying to dive back in under the seat and finish installing the seatbelts in the back. It dawned on her then and she snorted.

“That’s just Costia.”

“Ohhh, just Costia-- who the fuck is Costia?”

“I met her when I came to visit last fall remember? You were the one telling me to make a move but I was very drunk, something you did to me as well?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“At the party. I posted a picture…” she grunted and twisted. “She found me on Instagram. We talk about movies and I’ve shown her some of my stuff and junk.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“Just not many freshman looking to hang out with high school juniors.”

“I’m clearly advanced.”

“Clearly,” Anya rolled her eyes over the phone.

“I’ve been talking to her about film programs and applying--”

“Here? You’re thinking about coming here?”

“Fuck!” she hissed and sat up, doing her best to suck on the cut that came to her thumb from her maneuvering. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a serious inquiry, Lexa thought to herself. She was set. She had a plan with Luna. They’d had it since they were ten, and there was really on reason to deviate from it. But then a stranger liked her stuff, and this stranger made stuff Lexa liked. And the stranger became a friend who gave her some screenwriting tips and pushed her to get better at it. And the stranger told her the east coast was just as important to film.

But it didn’t matter.

There was a plan.

“You should seriously consider it. It’s a great program I hear. Come out for spring break!”

“I should stay here.”

“And do what? Work on that car? Dad already told me he’s sending it out for interior and paint. You’re pretty much done anyway.”

“Mom and Dad have conferences that week. I was going to watch movies all week with Clarke.”

“Bring her too. Sounds like she needs an escape.” Anya was getting excited, and Lexa was tugged along for the ride. “You can crash in my dorm. Even just for a few days, not the whole week.”

“Mom won’t like me missing so much time to study.”

“Call it a college visit for a potential school.”

“Luna will lose her mind,” Lexa shook her head and pinched her thumb to try to stop it without a bandaid.

“Fuck Luna. I’m going to ask Mom if she’d rather you were here, supervised by me, or home alone for a whole week.”

From the change in volume, Lexa knew she was texting immediately. She sighed. It would be fun to see the school as a potential option. It might even be nice to catch up with Costia. It would even be better to see her sister, who just at the moment, she realized she’d missed since her last visit.

“Should I ask Clarke if she wants to go?” Lexa finally ventured, returning to her work.

“Definitely.”

“Should I really consider your school as an option?”

“You should.”

She had a plan, Lexa remembered, and there was no point deviating, but she did want to see her sister.

“If they say it’s okay.”

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years

Text

Valentines Day for Nerds (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s favourite holiday is often taken up mostly by work, but this year his enjoyment doesn’t seem to be as disruptive in the BAU bullpen. The team soon realise why.

AN: It’s a bit late- who am I kidding? IT’S ALWAYS HALLOWEEN IN OUR HEARTS! This was a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, for the brilliant @agntprentiss <3

For my smut fic from the swap, check out A Little Indulgence (18+ only!)

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

Word count: 1.7k words

Gif credit to @imagining-in-the-margins <3

Your name: submit What is this?

The first breach of boredom was Penelope practically skipping into the bullpen, her arms cradling a bouquet of flowers as if it were an infant. The bold orange roses contrasted with the dyed black petals of its counterparts as they were planted upon Spencer’s desk.

“Delivery for Doctor Reid!” trilled Penelope, clapping her hands now that they were free of said delivery. Dropping his pen onto his unfinished paperwork, Spencer pivoted the base of the bouquet before he found a small black envelope.

It held a little card with two pumpkins, happy faces carved into them both. Inside were the following words:

Black is for new beginnings,

Orange is for enthusiasm,

Spooky times are afoot tonight,

Watch out for ectoplasm!

I spent ten minutes trying to think of a rhyme for that. Happy Halloween, Cara Mia!

Y/N xxx

Spencer beamed as he placed the bouquet at the edge of his desk, next to the fake severed hand that now held the card in its stiff fingers. He scratched his bristly cheek. Less than a day until he could shave this off. It’d be worth it though.

“Is it from Y/N?”

He looked up to see Penelope had lingered like a lost spirit, waiting to see if her trials of passing on the bouquet had been worthy enough for her to move onto the next world – her Batcave. She was poised with a hopeful expression.

“Yes,” Spencer said, watching Penelope lean up on her tiptoes as she tried to rein in her delight.

She clapped her hands, her purple painted nails clicking as they tapped together, “Are my two favourite ghost hunters up to much this Hallow’s Eve?”

“We’re going to see the Phantasmagoria re-enactment after we go trick-or-treating with Henry tonight.”

It was hard to ignore the absolute glee with which Spencer spoke. Even if one completely ignored the way his voice carried a light excitement, the way his eyes lit up and his broad smile almost fell off his face was enough to connote that he was very excited for tonight. It was also hard to ignore the mild bemusement on the faces of everyone who heard.

Glad to be back and bearing witness to his elated behaviour regardless, Emily cracked a smile, “Maybe she’ll cling to you when she gets scared.”

A heat crawled up Spencer’s neck and he tried to return to work now in hopes that his gift’s display would be cut off. He’d rather sit in the glow of receiving the flowers without mockery.

To the team’s credit, no one ribbed him for it.

The flowers were not the last gift though.

Soon Penelope reappeared, “Your Cupid has returned with another gift for you!”

As he tore at the paper and revealed an Edgar Allen Poe pin – the titular Raven he instantly attached it to his satchel strap – in pride of place, just like the bouquet.

Derek was the one to notice how Spencer’s sandwiches had been cut into little pumpkins. Some digging and Spencer revealed that he had gotten Y/N to order a cutter online. He held his lunch in one hand, his collection of classic Halloween short stories in the other, with a childish glee that no one wanted to squander.

When Spencer climbed the steps to drop off a file to Hotch around mid-afternoon, Rossi walking behind him noted the brand-new socks. A classic odd pairing, and obviously they were Halloween themed. This kid left no opportunity untaken when it came to celebrating Halloween – more than his own birthday.

But Rossi was not closed enough to get a good look at them, and no one else was as close. So, he recruited Emily and Derek to discover what the pattern was. It was Emily and Derek who upped the stakes by wanting to get a glimpse without arousing suspicion. Now that outright asking Spencer was not an option, the game began as they dropped several pens as an excuse to bend over and strain for a flash of those socks.

Derek eventually resorted to a pantomime attempt at tripping in front of Spencer’s desk and gave the jig up straight away by shouting to a stressed Emily (whilst also catching the attention of Hotch through his office’s blinds): “IT’S IT!”

A few language barriers hurdled later, and hindsight brought them both clarity. The red splodge on Spencer’s ankle was officially defined as a balloon.

“So tell us! What’s the other one?” Emily said, her voice strained with how much she was invested in this single sock.

Spencer hiked up his trouser leg to display the skeletal zombie sewn into the sock. “It’s Curtis Danko from When Good Ghouls Go Bad. Y/N had it commissioned for me!”

JJ was watching nearby, unaffected by the tensions of the sock bet. She knew the film because Y/N had wanted to show it to Henry the other week when she babysat him. But upon further inspection, the R.L. Stine film – while intended for kids – might be a little intimidating for Henry to watch without his profiler mother and godfather, police officer father, and favourite auntie there to protect him from the cursed statue.

No one else in the bullpen knew the film.

The team soon discovered that Spencer was not the only one to be on the receiving end of such gifts. Six o’clock rolled around and Y/N entered the bullpen. She was wearing a fuzzy black scarf, some sparkles shining within the wool. At the tail of it, a lucky black cat patch was sewn onto the end. It caught Rossi’s eye and he hid behind a folder as he smiled. The three times that Spencer had forgone a card game with him (in favour of knitting the scarf on the flights back from cases) had been riddled with playful teasing. It was good to see that it was worth it.

Especially when Spencer saw Y/N wearing it and his back snapped straight up. His chair flew backwards, spinning around with the effort that Spencer had launched himself from it, and he and Y/N embraced each other with casual affection.

“How was work today?”

“Not as boring as I thought. But, I have to say: I’m meant to call you Cara Mia.” Spencer’s eyes darted to the card Y/N had sent that morning.

Y/N caught onto his meaning, “Should I stop?”

“Never.”

She rubbed her nose against his and Spencer went pink again, giggling like a teenager. True, he was as smitten with Y/N as Gomez was with Morticia. Then he remembered he was in the workplace as Y/N went to greet the rest of the team, and Spencer’s pink became a scarlet.

“Aww, Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned at him from his desk chair, “You’re so cute!”

“It’s like Sergio!” Emily said, admiring the scarf with her thumb rubbing over the stitches around the cat patch.

“Make sure he’s safe tonight,” Y/N squeezed her hands for a second.

Then JJ appeared from her office, coat and bag over her arm, and she, Y/N, and Spencer wished the bullpen a Happy Halloween before they left.

They had three hours before the Phantasmagoria started. Plenty of time to get ready.

Henry was right behind the front door of his home. The second it opened, he bounced at Spencer’s feet, his tiny hand clutching onto two of his fingers to drag him inside. He was babbling away at such speed that Y/N could barely keep up. She gave Will a wave across the ironing board where he was diligently ironing Will’s cape.

“Well don’t you look handsome!” Y/N beamed at Henry while JJ combed his hair back, slick with gel. It was something he agreed to but only if Spencer was doing the same. Which he was, occupying the downstairs bathroom as he prepared his own costume.

The moment Spencer had finished shaving everything bar the moustache, he was plonked in front of the television. Henry smoothed out his cloak and put in his plastic fangs in to watch the rest of his new favourite Halloween film, The Little Vampire. He mumbled along with Rudolph’s lines and sat enraptured as he pointed out to Spencer the flying scenes. Luckily for him, Will and JJ were getting dressed as Frederick and Freda Sackville-Bagg upstairs to join in the Halloween spirit – last year’s Halloween date night disaster long forgotten.

Henry put in his plastic fangs and hissed at Y/N who emerged in her long sleek black dress. As she stepped across the room as elegantly as Morticia, Spence spied that she was wearing the black spiderweb tights he had bought her today.

“Hello, Gomez,” She smiled radiantly at Spencer, smoothing out his suit jacket as he stood before her. He presented her with a red rose that matched her lipstick to a tee.

As she breathed in the flower’s scent, he kissed her cheek, enjoying her giggle at the bristle of his ‘stache, “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, and you’re handsome as ever.” She swung their linked hands between them in the opposite way she poised on her tiptoes. “Maybe we should have taken a tango class.”

And she laughed loudly at Spencer’s wincing at such a thought.

“It’s ok, Cara Mia. I’ll settle for a kiss instead.”

Oh, that was something he could do forever. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles then the inside of each wrist.

Unfortunately, Henry interrupted the stream of kisses that were headed in Y/N’s way. “Ready to go!” He skipped his way between the happy couple.

It was hard to be mad at Henry, especially with how adorable he looked beside his parents and with his bright orange pumpkin bag ready to collect candy. He felt safe with his four favourite adults guarding him.

“Tonight,” Y/N whispered into his ear and he could hear the smirk in her words, “After the Phantasmagoria.”

Spencer beamed, his dimples delightfully framing that smile. One day maybe, they would have their own Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert to join them. And maybe then Derek would dress up as Uncle Fester.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing #fic swap #r: female #wc: 1k+

353 notes · View notes

m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 1

Thank you to the client for commissioning me! This is gonna be a long one! I love Joker and Persona 5 is my second favorite fandom after Danganronpa! Exctied to be working on this.

Around 2.6k words, SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader! - Admin Myah

Shujin Academy could be silent as the grave in the earliest hours of the morning, and yet seem so deafening. It was almost guaranteed that at least thirty new rumors were spreading throughout the student body at any given time, and the overwhelmingly hostile environment that created made the air heavy. With all the teenage angst, hormones, hatred, circles of venomous malice, it was no wonder so many loners could be spotted on academy grounds. That’s just how it was at Shujin: you either had a clique, or you had no one. It was no surprise, then, that you simply kept your head down, minded your business, and got to know no one. Miraculously, though, gossip abound about you still, at least two or three preposterous examples of hearsay and stories. But hey, what could you do? That was in all actuality, pretty low for a single Shujin student. God help the students who actually did make their opinions known, express themselves through clothing and cosmetics, and dared to swim against the current.

You shuffled through the first floor, the absolute blandness of that April morning perpetuating your usual routine: arrive at Shujin, check your locker, scribble down any notes and ideas that came to you in your dreams last night to put into your next short story, and of course check for new posts in the group chat, where your only friends resided. You wouldn’t be caught dead associating with anyone here at the school, it would simply be mental and social suicide, and quite frankly, you didn’t have the constitution for that.

Peeking up for a split second to avoid any collisions, you quickly slid to the left and ducked into a nearby alcove, successfully escaping the gaze of the oncoming wall of muscle and testosterone that was Coach Kamoshida, the plague of Shujin Academy. It was the best case scenario that Kamoshida remained ignorant to one’s very existence, for even those on his good side suffered the consequences. He strode by, shoulders wide and chest puffed out, scanning the halls for girls to harass or boys to intimidate, and once the coast was clear and he was a safe distance away, his back facing you, you dipped back out of the rather dusty corridor and back into the light, immediately slipping back into an almost mechanical daily ritual. It took mere seconds: phone screen unlocked, group chat opened, notebook slipped snuggly back under armpit.

“C’mon, man!” An obnoxiously loud voice rang out above the typical tinnitus-like buzz of the hallway, and suddenly your shoulder was thrust forward, body flying to the ground with a forceful shove on the shoulder.

“Aaagh!” Your voice cracked as your knees buckled and you collided roughly with the wooden panels below, your smartphone soaring out of your grip and clinking against the floor. Thank goodness your notebook was safe, at the very least. People gasped and turned to look at the spectacle, including Kamoshida himself, who’d just reached the end of the hall.

“Sakamoto! I see you running in the halls again, I’ll write you up!” He just always had to say something, let the general student body know he was in charge. He cared far more about sounding rough and tough than making sure the student who was just steam-rolled was uninjured. He pointed directly at you and the student that had just dashed by, effectively pummeling you to the ground with a shoulder check. You looked up and just ahead of you, Ryuji Sakamoto was pivoting on one foot, ignoring Kamoshida’s threat entirely to catch his breath and look down at his victim, splayed across the floor.

Ryuji Sakamoto, now that was one of those students mentioned earlier, the kind that dyed his hair, customized his uniform, and didn’t take shit from anyone. He was a pariah, pretty much the opposite of the teacher’s pet… teacher’s pest more like. Sakamoto was the subject of many falsehoods and conjectures, and he was sure to be trouble for anyone associated…

You looked him up and down, halting your unflattering and socially-altered thoughts in their tracks. Didn’t wanna become the very thing you hated. There was no reason to judge Ryuji without first-hand proof.

“Woah! My bad, sorry dude!” He held up one hand submissively, but unfortunately, just as with Kamoshida, it seemed that you were not his main concern either. Huffing and puffing from the sprint, he looked past you to another male student who was hot on his trail, but this one looked… different.

You’d gone to Shujin Academy for all of your high-school career. It was your third and final year before graduation, and you knew of Sakamoto well enough, but this kid was a mystery… was he new here? He must’ve been. You knew at least the face of every student here in some way or another just through Shujin’s own little eternal game of telephone, and not by any choice of your own. You actively removed yourself from the local goings-on. Was it his first day here, you wondered. Why hadn’t you heard gossip about him yet, especially looking the way he did?

Beauty was a curse - much like any other feature that stood out - at Shujin Academy. If you were too pretty or handsome, you must be sexually promiscuous. On the other hand, if you were too ugly, too nerdy, too quiet, you probably picked your nose and read hentai on the train. There was no winning in this soul-crushing wasteland. Unfortunately for this new-comer, he was outrageously gorgeous.

“Gah, sorry about that…” he sighed, slowing his pace as he passed you by, plucking your phone up from the ground and offering you his hand. You took it and stood with his help. A quick tug and you were to your feet, dusting off your uniform and thanking him for his assistance. “Yeah, no problem… Ryuji’s just… a bit eager I suppose” he chuckled. “Luckily, no cracks!” He turned your phone around in his hand before placing it back into yours.

“Isn’t that the transfer student??? I heard he nearly killed a man!” One random NPC-esque shithead whispered from behind.

“Oh God, figures that freak would gravitate to the new freak…” another responded.

Ah… and there it was. Why did fate hate you so much that it chose you as Sakamoto’s door mat on this day? You truly must have been fortune’s fool.

“Yeah, good thing…” You eyed the boy before you, taking in what you could of the new student before the short exchange was over, from his face to the delicate yet thick veins protruding from his lithe hands.

He was tall and thin, and would even be considered lanky if not for the lean muscle that lined his frame. He seemed to be better off than the average teen, sporting almost no blemishes or imperfections on his smooth skin. A black, messy mop of hair that looked soft to the touch sat upon his head, falling into his eyes and over the dark frames of his distinct spectacles. These spectacles did nothing to hide the true elegance that gleamed in the eyes behind them. They were a muted, soft grey that was beautifully simple and clean. His uniform was neat and tidy - as opposed to his blonde and brash acquaintance’s - with his pristine white turtleneck gently blanketing a quite prominent Adam’s apple and his school jacket buttoned and ironed perfectly. Lower down, his plaid slacks concealed thighs that strained against the fabric and long legs that ran down into some very - yet again - flawless dress shoes. Yep, that was a brand new uniform, sure enough.

And a brand new student… he just might make a good subject, a new inspiration for your writing, an aura unmarred by the stain this place put on one’s soul. Your opinion of him was fresh, it was new, unaltered, unbiased, and he really was quite beautiful… your mind played with the thought.

“Ah… sorry about this,” he spoke, taking in the whispers all around you, “I probably just ruined your reputation, what with being seen with me an’ all,” he sighed and laughed breathily, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. He must’ve been keen to the ways of Shujin already, which was super sad in its own right. “I’m Akira by the way,” he held out a hand, and you shook it hesitantly.

“Eh, doesn’t really bother me. It’s (Y/N), nice to meet you. Sorry you’re feeling the Shujin warm welcome.” That first part was only partly true, but the last half was genuine.

“Anyway…” his voice shook you back out of your contemplative reverie, and you came back to reality to find him also looking you over. Oh right… you were new to him as well… “I gotta go, Ryuji is kind of impatient, I’ve found.”

“Hey! Am not!” Ryuji retorted, brows furrowing before he ran off. Akira’s eyes rolled playfully, before he smiled, waved, and sped off.

You nodded, and quickly pulled out your phone, rushing to the glass doors leading to the courtyard. Anything to get out of the spotlight and harsh crowd of stares, plus, you had a sparkling new idea filling up your cranium, and artistic inspiration could not be wasted. Finding one of the benches placed for student recreation, you set down your school bag and impatiently scrambled for your favorite pen, throwing open your notebook.

“Oh, shoot!” You’d gotten ahead of yourself in all the excitement. Placing the moleskin down, you picked up your phone, hands trembling just a bit, and messaged you friends before anything else. They just had to hear about this.

＊

(Y/N) 9:55 am: Guys guys guys!!!

Itsuki 9:56 am: What do you want?

Rin 9:56 am: ???

Megumi 9:57 am: Shouldn’t you be in class?

(Y/N) 9:57 am: Shut up I have a free period just listen

You know how I’ve been having writer’s block?

Rin 9:58 am: Ya

(Y/N) 9:58 am: Well I just met this new kid, and ideas just started FLOWING.

Itsuki 9:59 am: Yeah

Megumi 9:59 am: Yeah we remember nerd

Oh that’s great!

Wait what do you mean?

New kid?

Only we can have you 😭 Don’ go switching up on us. Shujin is

toxic anyway.

(Y/N) 10:01 am: No no no It’s not like we’re friends, I just met him is all

You know you’re my one and only bby 😘

Itsuki 10:01 am: New kid???

Megumi 10:01 am: 😎

Itsuki 10:02 am: Gross

Also what about me!!!!

Rin 10:02 am: Me too 😡😡😡

(Y/N) 10:03 am: You two know you’re included in that???? 🤔🙄

Anyway just listen

I think he may be good inspo for my main character!!!

I was stuck looking for a unique look or face claim or something

But he seems nice enough and he’s good looking!

Itsuki 10:05 am: You got a crush? Awww I’m telling 😏😏😏😏

(Y/N) 10:05 am: I swear it’s like we haven’t been friends for years…

You know me, PLEASE don’t be gross

Writing purposes ONLY

Megumi 10:06 am: I thought you were stuck on the CONTENT, not characters and shit

(Y/N) 10:06 am: Both!!!! But he’s perfect for the look of my protag

Itsuki 10:06 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Megumi 10:07 am: Well I’m happy for you

STOP

Itsuki 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Rin 10:07 am: 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

(Y/N) 10:08 am: I can see this conversation isn’t going to be productive

LMAO you’re assholes

＊

You tucked your phone into your pocket and once again picked up your notebook. Scrawling down some of the details you knew about Akria: his looks, the sound of his voice, the way he carried himself, you quickly became aware that you knew far too little… or rather

You wanted to know more.

Standing, you packed your things and set out to find him again…

Not in the creepy way! You thought to yourself, trying to justify this uncharacteristic choice of yours to actually reach out to someone in real life, to maybe… try to make… friends? You stood there, brows furrowed and a small frown on your face, pondering your options.

“Oh well, all artists must suffer for their work!” You resolved a little too promptly to try to force another encounter with the new kid. He seemed to be special, unique. He seemed to be well aware of the social hierarchy of Shujin, and have a distaste of it at least. Maybe he wouldn’t be… so bad?

Making up your mind, you spent your free period not writing of romance and rebellious characters, but searching for that fluffy-headed newfound hero to your story, however ghoulish and greasy that made you appear. You truly were becoming that “reads-hentai-on-the-train” and stalks cute boys freak your peers thought people like you were, weren’t you?

To your surprise (though maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising with the volume of Sakamoto’s voice) you soon found the gaggle of second-years, model-status beauty Ann Takamaki now added to their number, standing next to the stairs on the third floor, looking quite conspicuous to boot. Noting the suspicious air around the three, you pulled back, hiding behind the corner leading down the next hall. They seemed on edge... maybe now wasn’t the best time to make friends…?

You felt something thump in your chest. Your shoulders sank subconsciously. It felt a little disappointing, disheartening in a way you couldn’t explain. It was a bit intimidating: Ryuji the loudmouth with a temper, the hottest girl in the school, and the cute new kid. You sighed, this was why you never tried to make friends in the first place. Why had you even gotten your hopes up?

These irrational feelings of self-doubt clouded your heart, your head knowing better of course. It was hard to fight thoughts like these, especially for someone like you. On the precipice of making up your mind, deciding to give up and scrap the new novel idea altogether, you were jolted to attention by the sound of shoes scuffling and scrambling up the stairs.

Students aren’t really allowed on the rooftop during school hours unless accompanied by a teacher or given express permission, your thoughts swarmed. Maybe they didn’t know? No, there’s no way. There’s a possibility Akira didn’t know, but Ann and Ryuji had been here for two years... What were they up to?

Your nosiness was regrettably getting the better of you, and you slithered over, careful to pad your steps and tread softly. You didn’t even know what you’d do once you’d cornered the trio on the roof, didn’t know what you’d say. What was there to say? You were never too good with words, that is those not written on paper. Your heart beating out of your chest, you climbed the narrow stairwell and threw open the doors to the roof.

“Huh?” You looked around, dumbfounded. “Hello?” The rooftop area was not that large, all parts of it visible from the door.

There was no one to be found.

“What the hell?” You step forward, thinking you must have been the subject of some prank, but no, upon looking around, all three students were gone without a trace. No school bags, no lunch boxes, no uniform pieces, nothing. Akira, Ryuji, and Ann, all vanished into thin air. There were no hiding spots, none big enough for three people at least. It was dead silent, and only the door you currently guarded provided an exit off of the roof. Your mind wanted to wander to darker places, but if they’d have jumped, there surely would’ve been a commotion either during or shortly after. Frantically, you looked around, feeling like you were going crazy.

“What the fuck?” You pressed the palm of one hand to your forehead, sitting on the ground and crossing your legs.

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thedollface221b · 3 years

Text

A Touch Of Magic

Pairing - Younger Neville Griffin (Misdirection - Inside No 9)/Original female character (can be read as reader insert)

Rating - Explicit - Over 18s ONLY

Warnings - soft BDSM

Summary - You get a job working as an assistant for a young Magician, but you find yourself fiercely attracted to him. Can you keep your mind on the job, or will lust win out?

Dedicated to the amazing @barkilphedros-hat for being wonderful. I ❤ you!

I searched through all the available jobs pinned on the job centre noticeboard and sighed. Absolutely nothing, yet again. I was just about to give up when I noticed a small, type-written card in the far corner. It read:

“WANTED

Assistant to a young, up and coming Magician.

Must be flexible”

Beneath that, written in red pen as if an afterthought was, in brackets:

“(Both in hours AND body!!)”

Typewritten again for the following:

“Please call Neville Griffin for more details”

Below that were two numbers, which I presumed were his landline and his mobile phone.

Scribbling down the info in my notebook, I resolved to call this Neville Griffin later that day. I had absolutely no experience at being a magician’s assistant but I had always been fascinated by magic ever since I was a little girl, and I was always being teased by my lovers by how amazingly bendy I was in bed – so why not give it a go?

______

After a brief phone call where we spoke only to arrange a meeting place and a time - his warehouse at noon the next day - I was left to wonder what Neville might be like. I couldn’t help but pre-judge him, with a name like Neville he was bound to be a total nerd, or perhaps older than he was letting on. Still, he did have a nice voice...

Whatever, I needed the work and impressing him with my appearance could go a long way... even nerds liked pretty girls and you didn’t often see a plain magician’s assistant, so I needed to look my absolute best. I spent the rest of the evening exfoliating, shaving, deep conditioning my hair, and giving myself a mani-pedi and a facial in preparation for the following day.

Despite my best efforts I slept fitfully, nerves getting the better of me. Putting on a little extra concealer to hide any dark circles my sleepless night may have caused, I finished off my make-up with a pop of cherry-red lipstick. Something a little bit daring and sexy. It paired well with the knee length, floaty red summer dress I was wearing, its sweetheart neckline giving onlookers just a peek of my décolletage.

I arrived at the road the warehouse was situated on a few minutes early so I could scope the place out. ‘Number Nine', I read off the GPS directions on my phone. It was a fairly barren looking alley, the kind of place you’d see on police shows where murders or rapes had taken place. I double checked my bag for my pepper spray and my rape alarm. All set.

Taking a deep breath and fixing a smile in place, I knocked on the door. It took a minute before I heard the heavy, metallic clank of a lock sliding back and the creak of the door opening to finally reveal Neville Griffin.

Oh.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a young, ridiculously good looking guy. His long, brown hair - just reaching his chin - framed a classically handsome face. Azure-blue eyes hid behind wire-rimmed glasses, resting on a strong nose, and his lips were a delicate pink and looked deliciously plump and kissable. He was dressed in a dark blue hoodie worn partially zipped over a red t-shirt, black jeans and a pair of black converse All Stars. All clothes of a typical guy in his late 20s.

“Oh, hello.” he said, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as if he hadn’t expected to be interrupted.

“Hi? I spoke to you on the phone last night, I’m here about the...”

“Oh, the assistant job, of course.” He wiped his hand on his jeans even though it didn’t look particularly dirty. “I’m sorry I was working and lost track of time.”

He held out the hand and I took it. It was warm and soft, with several calluses on his fingers, likely from day after day of practicing card tricks. For a guy of relatively small statue – around 5ft 7 I guessed – and lean build, he had large hands and long, thick fingers. My pussy gave a small, involuntary throb at the thought of what those fingers could do if given the opportunity. His grip was firm and I idly wondered if he was one of those guys who looked slight but was actually deceptively strong. Fuck, I had to stop thinking like that and concentrate on the interview. This guy could potentially be my Boss, not a one-night stand.

“Do come in,” he nodded, standing aside to let me enter the warehouse. It was dark, despite the overhead lighting, and the entire place was cluttered with debris of various magic tricks, boxes, notebooks and unquantifiable detritus. I noticed a zigzag lady in the corner, and a very cool looking guillotine towards the back.

Neville guided us towards two old, shoddy-looking stools placed right in the middle of the room and indicated that I take a seat. I sat up straight, my knees together and my hands placed in my lap. I had read somewhere that it was how Royalty was taught to sit, and that it was supposed to make you look more elegant and sophisticated.

Neville threw himself down on the stool in front of me, our knees almost touching. I could feel the heat emanating from his body, smell his aftershave, which was a musky, woody scent and very sexy. Jesus, I had to stop thinking like that!! Concentrate!!

“OK,” he started, “First off, are you a fan of magic?”

“Oh yes,” I said honestly, “I’ve loved it since I was a little girl.”

From his nod and smile, I figured we were off to a good start. The rest of his questions were pretty easy to answer and we fell into a casual conversation rather than a formal interview. It was looking good.

“And just one more question,” he said finally. “Do you think you can drop ten pounds?”

The flat of my palm made a satisfying crack as it made contact with his cheekbone.

“No!” he cried, clutching at his reddening face. “You misunderstood. It’s because the spaces you have to squeeze yourself into are so tiny. You need to be as small as you can possibly get yourself, that’s all.” He rubbed at his cheek. “I think you look perfect as you are. I mean fine. I mean you look...” He stopped. The other side where I hadn’t slapped was turning red now too.

“Oh.” I dropped my head, kicking myself for losing such a great job in the dying minutes. Talk about clutching defeat from the jaws of victory. “I’m sorry.”

“It's fine.” He stood and offered me his hand again. I stood too and took it.

“Thank you for seeing me.”

“It was no problem. Well, almost no problem. Can you start on Saturday?” he asked, looking almost scared in case I slapped him again.

“You mean you want me?” I asked, shocked. I couldn’t believe that I had still got the job despite screwing up so heinously at the end.

“Yes, I want you. For the job!” he clarified. Together we walked to the door of the warehouse and he showed me out into the filthy alleyway. “Saturday at 4pm. Don’t be late.”

As the door shut behind me I did a little happy dance before setting off to catch my tube. I was going to be a magician’s assistant. What the actual fuck.

_____

I wasn’t really sure what to wear to my first day as a Magician's Assistant, so I just threw on what I normally wore to yoga. Skin-tight lilac leggings with a matching sports bra and a sloppy, cropped vest in baby pink. I chose ballet style trainers as I thought they’d have the most flexibility if I had to do anything particularly bendy. I covered it all with an oversized hoody to keep me relatively decent on the tube. I didn’t fancy having my ass groped by some greasy stranger.

The door to the warehouse was slightly ajar so I just knocked on it, called out a hello and let myself in, unzipping my hoody as I walked through the cluttered space. I tossed it over some boxes out of the way. I didn’t see Neville at first, until I spotted him kneeling beside the guillotine, tightening some screws. He looked good in his dark blue jeans and navy and white striped top and I took a moment to appreciate the view. He didn’t seem to notice me at first so I cleared my throat. Still nothing. I called his name again, louder this time and he jumped, looking up at me with wide eyes, scrambling to get up while simultaneously pulling earbuds from his ears.

“Sorry I didn’t see you... hear you come in.” he said, winding the cord of the earbuds around his phone and setting it on his desk beside him.

“I'm a few minutes early,” I said apologetically.

“No, it’s... fine,” he nodded. I noticed that he was still looking down at the phone he had placed on his desk. I wondered what was so important about it. Especially as it was switched off.

“I didn’t really know what to wear so I hope this is appropriate.” I indicated to my outfit and he gave me a quick glance before looking down again.

“It's fine,” he repeated. OK, so it was going to be like that. Still, if Neville was going to be weird and anti-social it was going to make it a lot easier to not be attracted to him.

“So what are we doing first?” I asked with fake brightness, trying to lighten the mood.

“First things first,” he tapped the table three times with his fingers and then finally deigned to look at me, “Your name. We need to change it.”

“What’s wrong with my name?” I asked indignantly, crossing my arms beneath my breasts. I knew this action would push them up slightly and make them more apparent but to be honest I wasn’t really caring about that at that particular moment. Neville, however, definitely seemed to notice as his eyes widened slightly before he realised himself and forced eye contact again.

“It’s not exactly showbiz, is it? You need something with a bit of spark, a bit of pizazz. So from now on, your name is Miss Ruby Jewel.” He moved his hand through the air as if performing some mystical action.

“Ruby Jewel? It sounds like a fucking porn star, no way!” I shook my head.

“Well, I was thinking more Bond Girl,” Neville sniffed haughtily. “Anyway it's too late now, I’ve already started designing the promotional material. You'll get used to it. Besides, it goes with my ideas for your costume.”

“Oh yes, I meant to ask, where do I get my costume? Is there some sort of dress shop that caters exclusively for Magician’s Assistants?” I enquired, half joking.

“Of course not, you silly girl!” he snapped.

I jumped. While I was shocked at his outburst, I was ashamed to say that a part of me found the dominance in his voice... kind of arousing. A shiver travelled up my spine and I felt my nipples start to harden against the soft fabric of my sports bra.

Oh please God let the two layers of my bra and vest be thick enough so my erect nipples don’t show through.

No such luck. I could see them poking out through my top like two tiny pebbles.

Neville cleared his throat and continued, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been working so many long hours trying to come up with new tricks... I just need something...” He trailed off and turned away for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to me with a smile, as if the previous moment hadn’t just happened.

“There’s a local seamstress who will make your costumes couture. Although we can only afford one for now. I’ve already sent her my design ideas and so I just have to get your measurements and email them to her and she can begin.”

My heart leapt into my throat and my legs almost gave out at hearing him say that. Surely that couldn’t be right. “I’m not going to her to be measured? Isn’t that standard?”

“Doing it this way will save us time and money,” he confirmed, already picking up the tape measure from his desk. “I think you’ll love your costume. It’s going to be ruby red and adorned with lots of sequins and jewels. And you will wear red lipstick like the one you had on during your interview, as that was...” He paused and swallowed hard. “Sufficient.”

“Does it have to be so... gaudy?” I asked, my nose wrinkling in distaste as he measured my height and my body length.

“We need you to be as bright and flashy as possible.” I quivered slightly as he fastened the tape around my waist. We were practically nose to nose, except he was looking down to read the numbers on the tape. I could smell his aftershave again but this time I was close enough to also smell his shampoo and his soap. He smelled clean, with that same woody, musky scent from before, but with a hint of coconut from the shampoo. Heady, sexy and inherently male.

My pussy was throbbing again, despite me telling myself that this was my Boss and nothing could ever happen. Unfortunately my body didn’t want to listen to my brain and continued to send signals of arousal south. I could feel myself getting wet already. Fuck, this was bad.

He whipped the tape away and stood back, and already I missed the heat from his body.

“The reason Magicians use beautiful female assistants in bright outfits,” he began, rolling up the tape, “is because we want the audience to be watching them here...” he waved his empty hand around in the air in front of me, “while the magic is happening over here!” He clicked the fingers of his other hand, then opened it to reveal that the tape had disappeared. “Classic misdirection.”

“I’m impressed!” I laughed, applauding. “OK so where is it?”

He leaned in and for a split second I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he brought the tape out from behind my ear where it had supposedly been hiding. The disappointment of not being kissed must have shown on my face because he said “What, the old ‘behind the ear’ gag not good enough for you?”

“No, it’s great, really.” I faked a smile. “But we should get on, don’t you think?” I wanted this torture over with as soon as possible. Still, Neville had called me a ‘beautiful assistant’. That was something at least.

“Yes, quite right.” he agreed. “I just need to do your... ah... your top area.”

Wait, did he mean my bust? Was Neville really going to put that mother fucking tape around my breasts? Fuck!

Awkwardly he put his arms around me as I stood frozen to the spot like a statue, my arms stretched out wide either side of me like wings. I didn’t even dare breathe. After fumbling with and dropping the tape twice, he finally got it around the largest part of my breasts, touching the two parts of the tape together as quickly as he could. His knuckles brushed against my still painfully erect nipples so there was no possible way he couldn’t have noticed them. The movement was sending little zings of pleasure through me and I had to clamp my lips shut so as not to accidentally moan out loud.

I noticed that his hands were trembling and when his eyes met mine for a moment I could see how large and dilated his pupils were. Wait a minute... was it possible that he was finding this just as arousing as I was?

“OK, got that,” he mumbled, letting the tape drop to the floor and rushing over to his desk to jot down the details. “I’ll email those details to Sarah tonight and she can get started on your costume first thing tomorrow. I’ll give her your number and she can call you when she wants you to come in for a fitting.”

“Sounds good,” I said, eying up the bottle of whiskey sitting on Neville's desk. God I could really use a drink right now. But that wouldn’t be very professional and I was already walking a very thin tightrope there. Instead I went over to my bag, got my bottled water and took a long slug, hoping it would cool my ardour as well as my body.

The rest of the evening was spent explaining to me how most of his bigger tricks worked and what I would be expected to do as an assistant. I was actually quite excited to begin learning how to perform properly.

“We'll have our first proper rehearsal on Monday, but we’ll take it slow and I’ll just walk you through a few tricks to start with using the actual props,” Neville was saying as he walked me to the door. “Nothing too difficult at the beginning, maybe the zig zag lady, or I could saw you in half, show you the Rope escape...”

“That all sounds great. Well, bye then,” I waved, fighting the urge to grab him and kiss him goodbye.

“Bye, see you on Monday,” he smiled, and my stomach did a backflip.

______

I lay in bed that night thinking back to everything that had happened that evening. Remembering Neville’s touch, the way his knuckles brushed against my sensitive nipples, the intoxicating scent of him. Fucking hell, I was so aroused!! If I didn’t do something to take the edge off I would never sleep. Fumbling in my bedside cabinet I found a small bottle of lube and my trusty rampant rabbit vibrator.

I let my imagination run wild as I switched on the pink silicone device. I closed my eyes and pretended the long, thick dildo section was really Neville's cock as it stretched me open, and the tiny little ‘ears' buzzing rapidly against my clit and sending electric shocks of pleasure through me were really his fingers working me to orgasmic bliss. I recalled his domineering attitude from earlier and quickly made up a fantasy scenario in my head where I kept getting the trick wrong and he was shouting at me that he was going to have to punish me, that every time I made a mistake he was going to have to fuck me until I learned to get it right.

I came hard and fast, his name on my lips.

I felt dirty once the afterglow had worn off, and not the good kind. Neville was my employer and no matter how attracted to him I was, I shouldn’t be getting myself off thinking about him like that. Even if it was the best orgasm I’d had in a long time.

I turned over on my side and fell into a broken, troubled sleep, full of crazy dreams about being sawn in half, and Neville leaving me there, carrying the bottom half of the box away with my bottom half still inside it. OK, surely that had to be some sort of weird sex metaphor.

______

Monday came around quickly and I was back at the warehouse. Despite telling myself I wasn’t interested in impressing Neville, I had dressed in one of my cutest vest tops - a tight black ribbed number - and a short, ice-skater style skirt in a bright, ruby red fabric. It was probably totally impractical for what we would be doing but I figured I could always claim I was trying to match my new name if Neville made any comments about it.

As it turned out he simply gave me a quick glance up and down and then told me he was leaving to run a few errands but would be back soon, and that I should pick up a deck of cards and practice shuffling them while he was out.

After almost 45 minutes I got bored of shuffling and started to poke around the warehouse, snooping in drawers, looking through boxes, peeking in notebooks. Nothing was particularly interesting, until I opened the bottom drawer of his desk. There, hidden amongst papers and decks of cards, was a box of condoms, still unopened in its cellophane wrapper.

Why Neville, you sly dog.

Of course there was nothing to say the box was new. He could have bought them ages ago, stuffed them in there and forgotten about them. They could even be for some kind of trick. But maybe, just maybe, he had bought them since I arrived, and that could be confirmation that he liked me back.

I closed the drawer just in time as Neville came back into the warehouse. “What took you so long?” I pouted. “There’s only so much card shuffling a gal can do.”

“I do expect you to be fully proficient.” He grabbed the cards and shuffled them like I’d only ever seen Blackjack dealers in Casinos do, with lots of fancy cuts and flips. OK, so that was impressive.

“Can we start working on an actual magic trick now?” I wheedled, my hand in a light grip on his arm for that little extra peer pressure.

He was staring at where my fingers massaged the bare skin. It was unusual to see him without his hoody – I remembered he had left wearing it but now he was just in his black t-shirt and light blue Levis.

“Fine, let’s do the rope escape,” he said after a moment. I let go to allow him to cross the warehouse to get the correct prop he’d need. It was a large wooden X style cross about 6 foot in height and behind that was a slightly taller pole. At the top of that pole was another rectangular pole coming off it, rather like one that would hold a shower curtain. Only this pole held a thick, dark blue velvet curtain that could be raised and lowered at will.

“Let me explain how it works,” Neville began, wheeling the entire contraption into place. “You will stand in front of the cross and I will take the rope from where it is already tied off at the back here, loop it around one ankle, then the other, then up to your wrist, then the other, and then back down to tie it off tightly again. A member of the audience can come up to verify you’re securely fastened in.”

We moved around to the back. “But the secret is that this lever here can turn and give you just enough slack to get out. So the trick goes that I tie you up, I pull the curtain up, I twist this and free you and I climb in to take your place, you twist it back to tighten the ropes again and pull the curtain down to reveal that we’ve switched positions.”

He looked at me to make sure I was following. I nodded - it all seemed pretty simple.

“With practice we can get it down to a matter of seconds to make the switch.” He snapped his fingers on the word ‘seconds’ for extra emphasis.

“Can I try?” I asked.

“Of course,” he nodded, almost proudly, as if he was pleased to see that I was so keen. I lined myself up against the cross, both arms in the air and my legs open wide in an X shape. Neville expertly looped the rope around each limb, loosely to begin with. “Are you OK for me to tighten it?” he asked. I gave a quick nod of acquiescence and the rope immediately snapped tight against my wrists and ankles, causing me to let out an involuntary gasp. He tied it off at the back and came around to stand in front of me.

“How does it feel?” he enquired. I noticed his voice was gruffer than before. “Can you free yourself?”

I twisted against the nylon rope in vain. “No, I’m well and truly trapped.” I confirmed. There was nothing I could do to free myself. I was totally at Neville’s mercy. And oh fuck if the thought of that wasn’t a massive turn on. My clit throbbed, and I wondered if I dare push the envelope with Neville. If I was right about the condoms, he wanted something to happen between us and this might be the perfect opportunity to test the waters. But... if I was wrong, I could lose everything.

“I feel so vulnerable like this,” I said breathily, my voice dripping with submissiveness. “You could do absolutely anything to me and I couldn’t stop you.” I sucked in my bottom lip and looked up at him coyly through my lashes.

Neville let out a long, shaky breath and stepped towards me, placing his left hand on my hip.

“Anything?” he asked, his voice cracking a little. We both knew exactly what question was really being asked in that one little word.

“Anything... Sir.” I confirmed. And with that his entire demeanour shifted. Any trace of nerves were gone, and the dominant Neville I so fantasised about took over.

“Do you know the traffic light system?”

“I do,” I nodded. It was on.

His fingernails dug into the soft skin of my hip even through my skirt. I’d probably have bruises there later and I’d wear them like a badge of honour.

“I already had to take a very uncomfortable walk home this morning with my hoody tied around my waist to hide my hard-on, thanks to you coming into work dressed like a little whore,” he sneered at me. “I think we’re going to have to have a very serious talk about professionalism in the workplace.”

The hand that had been on my hip suddenly disappeared, only to reappear with a hard smack on the side of my buttock, the only part of my ass that was accessible. I gasped at the sharp sting and then moaned with arousal as the flesh burned. Another smack, only this time he slipped his hand under my skirt and groped at the still-smarting globe of muscle over the satin of my underwear.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” I moaned, wishing that I could cross my legs and put some pressure on my almost painfully throbbing clit. But I was still bound and completely at Neville’s mercy.

He stared at me, eyes fiery, licking his lips like a wolf licking its chops before devouring its kill. He obviously enjoyed me calling him Sir, the light blue of his tight jeans doing nothing to hide the thickening outline by the inseam of his right thigh.

He must have noticed me staring at his hardening cock, as he palmed at it with his right hand, admitting, “I already came once today thanks to you, you little slut.”

“Yes Sir,” I gasped, trying to push my pelvis forward to give him more access to my ass, his fingers kneading into the hot flesh. But I needed more!

He moved behind me and I could hear him searching through the drawers. “The good thing about being a magician,” he smirked, coming towards me with a small pair of scissors, “is that I can make anything disappear.” He reached up beneath my skirt and with two simple snips my underwear came away in his hand. He slipped the scraps of black satin and lace into his jeans pocket.

Because I still had my skirt on I wasn’t actually exposed, but because of my stance, my legs spread open so wide, I felt more naked than I ever had.

“This too.” He placed the scissors at the bottom of my vest and slowly began cutting. I protested at first but that earned me another spank.

“Sorry Sir,” I apologised. Just knowing that I was completely under his control was making me so aroused that I could actually feel my wetness begin to drip down my thighs. He cut the vest away completely, leaving me in just my sports bra and tiny skirt. At least the bra zipped at the front so he wouldn’t have to cut that.

He set the scissors and fabric scraps on the desk and came back to stand before me, eying me hungrily. “Please Sir,” I moaned. “Touch me.”

Agonisingly slowly he clicked the zip on my bra down, tooth by tooth as I writhed against the ropes. Finally my top was completely open, and he took one of my hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hot, pebbled skin. His hand massaged the other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I groaned at being touched at last, my hands clenching in empty fists as lightning bolts of pleasure ran through my body.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the skin of my chest as his free hand found its way to my upper thigh. He rested it there for a moment and I whimpered, desperate for him to touch me more intimately.

“When I’m ready,” he scolded, biting my nipple as punishment.

“Yes, Neville.” He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes with an angry look on his face, and I knew exactly what mistake I’d made. “I mean Yes Sir, I’m sorry Sir,” I gasped out, feeling my whole body flushing with arousal.

“Good girl,” he purred.

Torturously slowly, his fore and middle fingers traced a line across the smooth skin of my upper thigh, up under my skirt and then dipped down into the crease of my hip. He explored further still until he came to the delicate fold between my thigh and outer lip, where my juices had already dripped down.

“God, you’re soaked!” He sounded astonished that I could be so wet only from what we had done so far.

All I could do was moan in agreement, straining to try and force his fingers to slip closer to my clit. Thankfully he didn’t make me wait any longer and slid the two fingers either side of my dripping hole, collecting as much of my fluids on his thick digits as he could while still avoiding entering me, before at last rubbing his fingertips over that hot little bundle of nerves at my core.

I jerked and cried out at finally being touched.

“Easy, baby,” he cooed in a voice one might use to soothe a startled horse, all the while still rubbing circles on my clit. “I’ve got you.”

The ‘fuck’ that slipped out of my mouth was practically a sob. Neville really did have magic hands and I could already feel the beginnings of an orgasm building deep inside me.

It was killing me that I couldn’t reach out and run my fingers through his hair, but being tied up was turning me on more than I could have ever imagined it would.

“So fucking wet...” Neville moaned into my neck as he kissed down it, and I gasped as he suddenly pushed both fingers into my pussy without warning. The hot stretch of it felt so amazing and I just wished I could clamp my legs around him and grind into it. As it was I tried to tighten my muscles around him as much as I could. His thumb continued to work my clit and the tight ball of electricity started to grow deep in my stomach. Fuck, I was close.

“Gonna cum,” I gasped.

The thumb withdrew. I groaned in frustration and displeasure. I had been so close!

“You cum when I say so, babygirl.” he said assertively, biting and sucking at my collarbone as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me.

Finally the thumb returned and my pleasure built to a crescendo again. I couldn’t help myself, I moaned out, “Please Sir, let me cum!”

“As you asked so nicely,” he smirked. “Cum for me.”

I closed my eyes and allowed the white heat of my orgasm to overwhelm me, crying out as the waves of pleasure flooded through me, over and over and over.

Finally I blinked my eyes open, my body heavy and satiated. He was holding me up, as my legs could not do it for themselves and he didn’t want the rope to cut into my wrists. Reaching around behind me he pulled the lever to loosen the ropes and helped me to step out of the bindings, as I was wobbling like a new-born deer. Then he lifted me up and carried me to an old chaise lounge in the corner with half its stuffing missing.

“Are you OK?” he asked, checking my wrists and ankles for chafing. Thankfully there was none.

“I’m fine,” I answered honestly. “But what about you?” I nodded towards his crotch, where his very obvious erection was still waiting to be taken care of.

Once he knew I wasn’t hurt, dominant Neville came out to play again.

“Oh my sweet little babygirl, don’t worry,” he smiled, “I fully intend to take you.” He grabbed me by the neck to pull me into a deep kiss. I realised that despite him just giving me the most amazing orgasm, this was actually the first time we had kissed! His powerful tongue probed against mine, his hands roaming over my mostly naked body. Finally, with my own hands free I could touch everywhere I wanted to. They raked through his hair, across his back, cupping his tight buttocks. I was in heaven.

He stopped the kiss after a few minutes and stood up to pull off his T-shirt and jeans, while I slipped out of my last remaining pieces of clothing. I lay back and admired the view in front of me, this beautiful man all mine, his huge cock erect and already leaking pre-cum just for me.

He leaned down to kiss me again and then with one hand flat on my chest, forced me to lie back on to the chaise lounge. Both of us were now fully naked, our bodies shining in the dim light of the warehouse.

He reached down into the back pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a condom that he must have stashed there earlier when he was getting the scissors.

“Ready?” he asked, tearing open the foil and carefully rolling the prophylactic down his thick shaft.

“Yes Sir, please take me. I need you.”

His beautifully reddened, kiss-bitten lips twisted into a satisfied smile and he laid his full bodyweight on top of me, the blunt head of his cock resting against my dripping entrance. He teased me for a moment by circling the flushed cockhead around the hole before finally breaching my tightness, just with the tip at first. I let out a long, low moan at the delicious stretch and wrapped my legs around his back, trying to force him into me more quickly.

“Ah ah ah!” he scolded, his left hand flying to my neck. He squeezed lightly in punishment, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle so I didn’t need to use any of the safe words. “At my pace, little Princess.”

I kept my legs around his waist but I ceased any attempts to pull him closer. I threw my head back and mewled as he finally started to push himself in fully, enjoying that deep burning sensation of being completely filled. He bottomed out and began to thrust slowly inside me, drawing himself all the way out to the tip and then sliding back in again.

It was like sweet, divine torture. He obviously had no intention of rushing this, each stroke brushing against my G spot just enough to start building my orgasm but not enough to actually make me cum.

He kissed and nibbled at my throat, working his way up my neck to suckle on my earlobes which made me shiver with delight. I could feel my skin prickle with goosebumps as his tongue worked its way down again, finally ending up at my breasts. My nipples hardened in response and he sucked one into his mouth, his warm saliva leaving a trailed string from the pebbled skin to his bottom lip for a moment when he pulled away.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him down to kiss me again, and as we kissed his thrusts began to speed up. We moaned into each other’s mouths, the arousal building for both of us. He reached down between our writhing bodies and started to finger my clitoris again, and I groaned loudly as immense pleasure overtook me. Neville was grunting with the effort of fucking me now, his thrusts growing more frantic and erratic.

My second orgasm was building, the tight knot of pleasure in my core growing as Neville’s cock brushed my G spot with every stroke, and his fingers expertly worked my clit.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” I announced, my eyes fluttering closed, stars behind them in my vision.

“That’s it, cum for me my good girl,” he praised. “So fucking beautiful.”

I let the orgasm wash over me, pure pleasure spiking every nerve in my body until everything turned white and I shuddered in Neville’s arms.

“Jesus, uh, fuck,” Neville groaned, and I felt him stiffen, then he too shuddered as he came inside me, his cock twitching as he unloaded into the condom. After a moment he collapsed on top of me, completely spent.

We lay there for a few moments until the chill made me shiver. Neville stood up and turned away to dispose of the condom, seemingly embarrassed for me to see him do the ‘clean up’. Then he grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge and a blanket that had been thrown over some boxes in the corner, and came back to the chaise lounge, throwing the blanket over the both of us.

“Are you OK?” he asked me, handing me the water. I took it gratefully and took a long drink. He did likewise and then set the bottle aside.

“I am,” I smiled, snuggling into his arms. Even though the dominant Neville was a huge turn-on, I was glad that he knew how to do the aftercare as well. “So what does this mean for us?” I asked, even though I was terrified of the answer. “Was this a one-off, or...”

“No!” he said, a little to quickly and loudly. “I mean, if you want us to... I’d like... do you want to go out? I’ve always thought you were attractive.”

“Same,” I smiled, relieved that he wasn’t just using me as a one night stand. I wanted to be with Neville. He seemed like a really nice guy, and they had been few and far between lately.

“So do you actually want to go out with me?” I asked, reaching a hand up to curl it affectionately through his hair.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“So... a proper date,” I mused. “How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds great,” he smiled, taking the hand that had been in his hair and kissing it. “Oh, but I’ll have to take a rain check I’m afraid. I’ve got a magician coming round tomorrow night to show me a trick I’m interested in buying.”

“Oh right,” I replied, feeling a little bit annoyed, but understanding that work needed to come first. “Who’s the Magician?”

“Some old guy called Willy Wando,” he said. “But it probably won’t come to anything.”

Even if Neville didn’t hold out much hope, I had a funny feeling this trick was going to change his life.

#reece shearsmith #inside no 9 #Misdirection #smut #tied up #Neville Griffin #magic daddy #original female character #magic

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

My Favorite Smile

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one has a couple ✨swear words✨ in it lol. I don’t usually write them out, but sometimes you just gotta say what you mean)

Original Idea: X (Obsessed with this channel right now)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,182 words... it’s a longer one again. I casually wrote this in, like, two hours. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Holding his coffee and croissant, Jason looked around the crowded café for a place to sit. Every table was occupied by at least one person, and the rules of personal space in public said the couches were full, with one person sitting on either end.

His eyes fell on a table with a single occupant.

His heart stuttered to a stop. Wait… is that her? Damn, she looks good this time. He scoffed at himself. Who am I kidding? She looks good every time. Should I talk to her? Should I tell her? She didn’t believe me last time… and I don’t know if I can stand another lifetime without her… but last life we didn’t meet till I was almost fifty. I really wasn’t expecting to find her this early.

He straightened up and strode over to her table. “Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? The café’s pretty crowded and the other tables are full.”

She looked up and Jason’s brain stopped working as she met his eyes. She was just as incredible as she always was. Thousands upon thousands of years, and he still never got over how beautiful she was. “Sure, go ahead,” she said with a smile before going back to her phone.

—

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man said, sitting down.

I glanced back up and gave him my name in return.

He smiled. He had a handsome smile. Just looking at him… something tugged in the back of my mind. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

My ears warmed and I looked away. “Thanks,” I muttered. I looked back at him. “Sorry if this sounds… weird—but have we met before?” I cringed but smiled. If we had…oh it’d be so embarrassing if I’d forgotten him. And a man as handsome as him—how could I have forgotten?

But a look of delight crossed his face, before being replaced by one of neutrality. “Not in this lifetime,” he replied.

“Kind of an odd way to word it,” I remarked before I could overthink whether that sounded really rude or not.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Well… yeah I guess so. Sorry.” He looked down at his coffee cup and croissant and chose to take a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he looked back up at me. “This is probably gonna sound really creepy, but please just hear me out for a few minutes. Do you believe in soulmates?”

I reached up and scratched an itch just behind my ear. “I mean… kind of? I think maybe they exist for some people, and other people could be matched equally well with multiple potential partners,” I said.

His shoulders slouched with a sigh of what might have been relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. He met my eyes. “Because… we’re soulmates. You and I. Sometimes—very rarely—two people are so destined to be together, that they’re reborn over and over to stay together throughout thousands of years’ worth of lifetimes. Sometimes we both remember, sometimes only one of us does. I don’t think there’s ever been a lifetime where neither of us remember. Besides the first, I guess. Back when we didn’t know we’d be reborn. We never look the same twice—different bodies, different backgrounds. But we always have the same soul.”

A reasonable person would have thought he was making up a really long, bad pickup line. But I stared at him with rapt attention. Like some missing puzzle piece I’d been looking for my entire life fell into place. It just sounded… right.

“How do we find each other, if we look different every time?”

He took a deep breath. “Well… when one or both of us remember, we can… kind of sense it? Kind of see it? Like, right now, I see you, but I also see every face of yours that I’ve seen across every lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes we don’t. Find each other, I mean. The distance between where we’re born or the timing of our rebirths keep us apart. But there’s only been… three of those, if I remember right.” He laughed. “So glad you believed me this time. It would have sucked if you got a restraining order—because those are a thing now—and I had to spend this life without you.”

I leaned forward, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Tell me more,” I said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um… I don’t know. The beginning? Our first life?”

He nodded. “Ancient Greece,” he said. “Like, really early in Ancient Greece’s history. The gods blessed us. Bound our souls for eternity. Your hair is actually the same color now as it was back then. Kind of a… nostalgic favorite of mine. You’re absolutely stunning every time I see you, but I have some favorites. You do too.”

I snickered. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Well… I always think you’re adorable with dimples or freckles. Green eyes are a favorite of mine too. And your current hair color is my favorite. There were also a few times where you were a little taller than me. Those were nice. You’re most comfortable to hug that way. But, without fail, every single lifetime I see your smile and I think, ‘That one. That one’s my new favorite.’” He chuckled. “As for you, you’ve told me that you like me best with brown eyes—even though you don’t like brown eyes normally. Um… you also like it when my hair is curly.” He gestured to his black hair, slightly curled, with two white curls arcing down the center of his forehead. “You told me… seven lifetimes ago? That you like me best with piercings and tattoos, but when I brought it up last lifetime you said even when I have them I still look like, and I quote, a ‘giant nerd.’”

We both laughed. Jason sighed and shook his head.

“Then again, you said that was your favorite during our pirate lifetime. And I can also say hot damn you looked good with tattoos and a big hat.”

I gasped out a laugh. “We were pirates?”

He laughed too. “Yeah. Well, you were. To start with, anyway. You and your crew were visiting my town and you, absolutely drunk, stumbled into my house. I was a carpenter that time. Thank the gods we both remembered that lifetime or I probably would have shot you. You spent half the night drunkenly blathering about how much you hated my hair when it was long the way it was and that you’d cut it off if I didn’t. The next morning, when you’d sobered up, you apologized. And I’d said it was fine. And… you asked me to come with you. I’ve spent dozens of lifetimes endlessly in love with you. So, like the lovesick fool I am and was, I said yes.

“It… was not a long lifetime. Pirates rarely made it to old age. We were both killed when a Royal Navy ship attacked us. I went down first. You told me in our next lifetime that you single-handedly killed half of that crew’s sailors in revenge even though you knew you’d see me again—because you’d been having so much fun that life and they ruined it. Eventually their captain killed you himself.” He took a bite of his croissant.

It was certainly a lot to take in. But everything he said was so vivid… I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination coming up with the images or… memories that had merely been locked away somewhere deep inside. The sea. The deck of a ship. An octopus tattoo on my left forearm, tentacles reaching to the back of my hand, a similar one on his tanned, scarred neck. Curly auburn hair, a scruffy beard. Brown leather coat and blood under his nails. Pierced ear and eyebrow. A tattoo of a mermaid with a face and wild hair that I knew must have been mine on his right thigh as we found alone time together in my cabin—a pile of leather clothes in a heap on the floor, topped by a big hat with a big feather.

I met his eyes again. “Tell me about another one.”

He smiled. “Well… there was another time I was a soldier. You remembered. I didn’t. I passed through your town on my way to report for duty, and the weather got bad. Your family owned a tavern that doubled as an inn. So, that was where I stayed. You didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you anyway. You would tell me stories and sing for me and make me food in private. When the weather improved, I went off to war and, miraculously, I survived. Even though I spent most of my time that fight thinking about you. I came back to your inn and asked you to marry me. You said yes. We were married soon after. I had to leave a lot. Fighting battles I didn’t care about. Eventually, I came home injured and dying. You held my hand and promised you’d see me soon. I thought you meant heaven or just said it to comfort me. You never told me we were endlessly-reborn soulmates.

“When I was about fifteen my next lifetime, all my memories came back. We both remembered that time, actually. When we ran into each other again we got into such a big argument about you not telling me. Literally picked up right where we left off. Two twenty-year-olds bickering like the old married couple we were. The life after I don’t remember is always a bit of a wild ride as all my memories come back. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’ll be similar for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I wondered why I’d told him I liked him best with brown eyes when his blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous. “So… what now?” I asked.

He made a face. “Beginnings are always hard when one of us doesn’t remember. Because I have thousands of years of love for you, and you don’t even know me.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“Does it count as a first date?”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. “It can. It does for this life.”

“Have we… ever had children? Together?”

Jason regarded me thoughtfully. “We have,” he said. “But our bloodlines never last long. Usually we’re lucky to get great-grandchildren. We’re blessed to be together forever, but our families die off quickly. You speculated once that it’s the blessing’s attempt to make sure we’re not reborn into our own bloodline.”

“So we have no living descendants.”

“No. It’d be a little weird if we did. Like ‘Hey, kiddo, you’re our great-great-great-grandson! I know we’re younger than you but trust us!’” Jason laughed.

I could get drunk on that laugh. “I’d… I’d like to go on that date.”

He looked elated—and relieved. “Me too. I’d like to get to know you again.” He glanced around the crowded café. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere quiet and I can tell you more stories about our lives? You’ve always been the far superior storyteller, but I learned from the best.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to hear everything.”

He helped me to my feet. I gathered my jacket, cup, and phone. “Great. I can’t wait to tell you about the time I was a magician.”

I giggled. “My place or yours?”

“Mine. I have a memento from our most recent past life that I tracked down. I’d like you to have it.”

“What is it?”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Just held my hand as we left the café. Gotham’s overcast autumn sky was chilly. “I… I want it to be a surprise but I’m also too excited to tell you.” He bit his lower lip, staring at me. “Gah. Fine. It’s your wedding ring. I found it at an antique shop not far from where our oldest niece lived. We didn’t have any kids, last life. We didn’t meet till I was forty-nine and you were forty-three. We both decided it was too late for kids. But I had a few nieces and nephews. Our oldest niece was in charge of our estate. We died in the eighties. But I found your ring. You can use it again, eventually, if you want. Or we can get you a new one.” His face reddened. “I don’t mean to presume. But I don’t know if I can live without you this lifetime after having you for such a short time last life.”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s try that first date first. I feel this pull toward you I can’t explain, but we’ll build up to the soulmate thing. Okay?” I smiled at him.

—

Jason couldn’t help but stare at her. Those eyes, that stunning face. This one, he thought. This smile is my favorite.

#My Favorite Smile #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #DC imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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