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jasmines-library · 8 months

Note

batfam with the youngest robin (prob 12-13) who gets kidnapped by the joker during a mission and a year or so later the joker reveals the kid who is now brainwashed to be the joker jr

i was thinking like maybe how they’d react and maybe that they can rescue y/n and un-brainwash them and like comfort them and stuff

if not that’s fine i don’t mind!!! i can also like explain better if needed lol

The Stranger In The Mirror.

Note: You guys literally send in the best requests, I took inspo from Batman Beyond where this happens to Tim but I also added my own little twists as always.

Warnings: Torture (graphic), brainwashing, manipulation, drugging, breakdown basically hurt not comfort (poor reader is going through it all in this one.)

Word count: 2.5k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Help! Somebody please!”

You heard the cry before you saw what was happening. A female voice begging desperately for help, pleading for mercy as the two men backed her against the wall of the alley. They stalked towards her menacingly and you could see the way her face contorted with a fear that gripped her so tight as she moved feebly in an attempt to get past the two men. But they were large and between them took up most of the alley so that it was nearly impossible for her to slip past, and even if she did they would be on her in a second.

Using your grappling hook to secure a line on a nearby railing, you propelled yourself down from the rooftop. Before your feet hit the floor, you took the crooks out with a well placed blow that sent them crumpling to the ground like a sack of flour. Resheathing your hook, you turned to the woman.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

She smiled, looking at you from under the brim of her hat with an all too familiar smile “Much better now you’re here.”

A brief flash of recognition crossed over your face, obscured by your mask as you realised who those brown eyes belonged to but you had no time to act on it before she hit you on the back of the head. Hard. With a manic laugh.

“Night night, Birdy.”

When you awoke, you were laying on something cold. A piece of metal that you had been bound to by ropes that burned against your wrists and feet as you struggled to free yourself. The table was tilted at an angle that allowed you to squint against your throbbing head to take in your surroundings. The room you were in was well lit and seemed surprisingly sterile given the situation. Strange concoctions of colours that made you grimace hung on the walls and bubbled away in tubes on one of the many workbenches across the room. The tools made your stomach churn. But then you saw him.

Perched all high and mighty in a chair opposite you the Joker had sprawled himself out across a chair, flashing you one of his sickening, signature grins.

“Hiya, Birdy!” He stood with glee, making his way over to you with a spring in his step-almost like he was skipping.

“Why the hell am I here, Joker?” You spat at him, baring your teeth.

“Can’t a guy just hang out with his favourite vigilante?” He mused, turning away from you as he began organising things on the desk that you couldn’t see, you tugged in the restraints to try and catch a glimpse of them.

“Cut the crap.”

“You all really are no fun.” He rolled his eyes “Not to worry that’ll all change soon when I morph you into the perfect weapon. Me.”

“What?”

“Well, what’s better than one of me? Two of me. And you little bird, know all the ways to destroy your pesky family.”

“I’m not going to tell you shit.”

He shrugged, turning back to you with a pair of jump leads in hand. “We’ll see.”

Walking towards you with a grin he attached them to the table before reaching towards the dial. You thrashed desperate to break free but the ropes securing you in place allowed no leeway for you to move. When his fingers brushed the dial and the voltage came flooding through the wires, you let out a blood curdling scream. The pain was everywhere as your body arched, twitched and writhed against the rope. It burned at your skin, drawing blood and forming blisters against your wrists and your ankles. When the current finally stopped and you fell slack against the restraints your diaphragm jerked and spluttered against each pain filled gasp.

“Are you ready to talk now?”

They realised very quickly that you were missing. You hadn’t returned home after your patrol. They tried not to let the worry get the best of them, but this was Gotham. They waited, watching the seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, but there was no sign of you. You were gone.

Everyone was on high alert. For three, agonising weeks they searched every inch of Gotham, using every possible connection they had but no one found any leads. Tim was growing frustrated, hacking into every database he could find as Bruce and the other boys scoured the city. But you were gone without a trace. That was until one tedious Wednesday morning, the batcave received an urgent call.

Your head was fuzzy. Whatever the Joker had dozed you with this time was really taking a toll on you.

Your head hung low resting against your chest as you breathed slowly, trying to push away the fuzziness in your brain. Your entire body had grown numb; now too used to the pain it had been put through, too weak to hold yourself up as you lay slack against the table and although all dosed up now you may not be able to feel anything, you would never be able to forget the endless torment he had put you through; that would forever be etched into your mind.

The screams still seemed to ricochet off of the walls, burying themselves into each crack just to resurface once it went quiet. The feeling of your skin being torn apart still lingered, the pinch followed by the burn as the Joker slashed you with his weapons, screaming at you to tell him all that you knew about Batman. Of course, you refused at first. Oh how you were so brave trying to hold your tongue. But you couldn’t help the screams that ripped from your mouth and left your throat raw and soon when they layers of your mind had been peeled away by the cruel hallucinations he put you through with his serums and his words, you soon began to crack; your fragile body unable to take anymore of this torture.

Your wrists had been burnt red raw; the trails of blood tracked down your arms and mixed with dirt and blood, showing where it had beaded down your forearms as you struggled. Burned with tears your anguish was clear amongst your struggle and you were pretty sure that you had at least three broken ribs and four missing fingernails. Maybe more.

But you were growing to like the pain somewhat. Because it meant that you were still alive. It meant that your family was on your way…or… had they stopped looking for you.

The Joker's cruel words rang through your hazy mind. He had told you about the video he had sent to them. How there was no response. They didn’t care. None of them did or you would have been home right now. He had injected you with something as he said it, but you swatted off the prick of the needle as though it were a pesky mosquito bite.

“Soon,” He told you as the drug settled into the numbness of your body. “You will realise that I am helping you. That I am the only one that cares for you. Not Batman. Not any of those pesky Birds. Me.” he hovered in the doorway just before he left. “I’ll be back, Junior.” Junior. He had stopped calling you by your name recently.

And as much as you didn’t want to agree with the man who had put you and your family through so much…you were beginning to believe it. The Joker had dragged you away from a life cycle of patrol and ending crimes. He was giving you a place to stay when your family had so clearly given up on you. The Joker had confided so much in you in your time together that you felt like you almost knew him personally. And it had made you think that… he was misunderstood. Lonely. Much more similar to you than-

No.

No. No. No. You shook the thoughts from your head. ‘They’re coming.’ you told yourself. ‘But…’

Your mind was fighting itself now, conflicted between what you knew and what you were being told. Fighting between your family and the man who stood constantly before you. It fought until one side finally inched free and you realised something.

The Joker.

The Joker was right. He was helping you.

When he returned to you that night, you greeted him with a dumb smile. He was glad to see that his plan had worked. That he had broken you down enough to mould you into exactly what he wants.

He grinned manically. He could now move onto phase two: training you to kill The Bat. This stage would be considerably easier. You already knew Batman’s weaknesses; you had admitted that during one of the electroshock sessions. He just had to convince you that Batman was the real enemy. The only thing left to do besides that was lure him over to you. Which should’ve been easy enough.

Tim shot up from his seat the moment your face flashed up on the screen. Somehow, someone had overridden the computer’s controls and he was now staring at your bloodied and beaten face lolling against a metal table.

“Bruce!” Tim cried, scrambling to grab the attention of his father.

Bruce had never moved faster across the cave than he did to reach Tim, his stomach dropping when he saw the screen, with him came the rest of his sons who too were alerted by the shout.

Tim didn’t have to say anything else as they all gathered around to look queasily at the screen. You weren’t moving as the live stream played and this only worried your family more, but then an all too familiar green hair came into frame walking towards you menacingly.

Bruce felt sick when he saw you flinch and try to squirm away from the Joker’s touch.

“Smile for the camera.” He said, gripping your hair so that they could see your face. You blinked slowly permanent tears scarring your face amongst the blood and dirt.

“I hope you’re watching Batsy. You’re about to see the end of your little bird.”

Dick, who bit his lip anxiously as he observed instinctively gripped Damians shoulders and tried to push him away as the Joker reached for the dial again. They saw your body react despite its weakened state; legs kicking and trying as you tried to scramble away. But Damian refused to leave, especially when his little sibling was in this state. It was horrific, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the screen so he watched shell shocked. That was until your first scream cut through all of them and he turned away. Dick pulled him close as he screwed his eyes shut and Jason clenched his fists.

“Tim.” Bruce ordered “Turn it off. Find a signal.”

“I’m trying.” He said “But…there is no signal and something is overriding the controls.”

Bruce ran his hands through his hair until after an agonising few minutes, your screams stopped.

The Joker moved swiftly for a syringe which you didn’t even react to as he injected it into your system. Not good.

“They’re not coming for you, birdy. They don’t care.” The Joker taunted before turning back towards the camera. With one manic laugh he gave a final bow and the signal fizzled out.

The five of them stood there in complete silence. All silent. Most angry. Most heartbroken.

“Suit up. We don’t stop until we find them.”

By the time the vigilantes arrived, you were ready. Poised on the top floor of Arkham’s abandoned asylum cafeteria.

You had seen Batman arrive, sauntering furiously into the open room to where Joker had positioned himself. You had seen the other four sneak in too, wrapping themselves around the room and slinking throughout the asylum in search of you.

Once Joker had riled up the Bat enough to send him on a chase to him around a loop of the asylum, you jumped down from the bannister with a conniving grin.

“I know you’re all in here.” You laughed. And soon, one after the other your brothers appeared from the shadows gawping at the stark contrast of your appearance. You were skinnier and clearly injured from head to toe, but what struck them the most was the purple and green that the Joker had donned you in.

“R…” Red hood warned as he stepped toward you. “We don’t wanna hurt you. We just want to take you home.”’

You raised your weapon. “Liar!”

“No kid. We wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Red Robin said.

“You left me. You didn’t come back for me and you left me here to rot!” You gritted your teeth.

“That’s not true. That’s the joker talking.” Damian.

“He is helping me! He is helping me reach my full potential- I am already so much more than I was before.”

You raised the pistol. It was loaded and you knew that it would do damage. That was the intention. And that's what you were going to do. You were going to take them out one by one until they get what they deserve-

“R…” Dick said as you raised the gun your finger inching towards the trigger. “You know us Little Wing. We’re your big brothers.”

You moved swiftly, dodging them as they moved closer in sync. One of them reached out to try and grab you, but you gripped his arm and threw him over your shoulder. The five of you tussled until everything paused when Batman burst back into the room.

Your gun was pointed at him in an instant, locking in on him as you readied your stance and poised your finger on the trigger. no one said anything. No one even dared to breathe. Bruce just looked at you from behind his cowl as you grinned at him, sickeningly mirroring the villain who appeared behind him sending him keeling to the ground. You laughed.

“Do it.” Joker urged.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Your hand trembled as you looked down at him pleading at you. He looked so…vulnerable. And your mind screamed at you. Wrongwrongwrong. You were torn again. This was Bruce…your father. Your family. Your enemy-

“Do it, Junior.” He pressed. Your lip trembled.

Do it. No. Do it- You wanted to scream.

“R.” Batman uttered one single letter.

You pulled the trigger. No one moved. A cry of pain rang out across the room. The Joker dropped to the floor.

You let out a sob and dropped to your knees realisation catching up on you. A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you to their chest as you completely broke down.

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. We’ve got you now.”

Everything hurt. Everything was so disgustingly wrong. You had tried to kill Bruce- you had given away your secrets… you let out an unholy sob.

“Shh.” Jason cooed. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.”

“Everyone is okay, Little wing.” Damian promised, taking your bloodied hand gently and tracing circles across the back of it. “We can fix this…”

Batfam Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

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ikkosu · 6 months

Note

Earthspark bumblebee is currently rotting my brain from the inside out so could I ask for so fluffy fem shyer human and bumblebee who are crushing hard for each other but keep both of them keep prolonging confessing to the other the terrans realize what's going on and take it upon themselves try to get them to confess their feelings to each other

SUNSHINE

bumblebee x shy!fem!reader

a/n: tfe bee is so big brother energy 😭 he reminds a lot of what rid bee could be. I had a lot of fun writing this ! totally didn't rewatch all the bee scenes to get his character right,,,,,totally didn't. (I don’t write fluff often so i treid my best I swear)

[i]

"When are you gonna suck it up like a man and confess?"

Twitch startled you from above as the whirs of her fan hummed gently, hovering around you in her alt-mode.

"C'mon! What're you gonna say, huh? Turn away from the problem like you always do?"

Gloved hands, scathed with dirt, halted in the midst of pulling out a persistent weed. You feel your temple burn, a nervous laugh bubbled from your throat as your fingers plunged into the soil once more, pawing around to find the root of the problem.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!".

"I don't know what you mean."

When you did find the source, delicately you curled your fingers into the crevices, balling the soil then, with a huff, yanked the roots out. You're careful not to damage the nearby flowers.

When confronted at the baselines of your problems, you often churn into a sputtering mess. Sometimes, you have to clarify that no, you’re not angry, or no you’re not daunting — that’s your facial expressions constricting. Because if you don't. You're going to cry. And you're going to cry lots over matters daintier than an atom.

"Wuss."

"Twitch. Really you are trying." You sigh when the drone nudged your back.

A quick zip-zap of metallic whirs and she’s in her usual form, yellow eyes ablaze, arms crossed, leaning over with a scowl. Her hips jutted out, sassed-esque — a pose Dorothy used often when she's mad.

"I appreciate your concern but—"

“Dont even try to push it away. I'm not stupid." She prods, getting up to your face. Really, this adorable thing is half a step away from making you ostrich-dunk your head into the soil. "Oh, let me guess : tongue, tied? Busy thinking about a certain someone? Someone, or a bot so yellow like the sun, it’s blinding your eyes?”

You don’t even know where to begin. So, you look into the soil really hard, like you’re trying to find something worth focusing on. Oh, look. A worm. Bingo.

"I'm going to eat that worm if you're not going to look at me."

"Twitch—" You began.

Then, she’s shoved away.

"Sorry, you see. Wh-what she's saying is that, well, you know—" Thrash nudged his head into view, twiddling his thumbs as a demure, placating smile eased on his soft face. "...it's high time you...tell 'im how you feel?"

This time you want to plunge your head into the soil. It’s not a want, it’s a need. The scent of earth was purging strong, beckoning you with it's heed, as you, yet again, choke back another sound. You laugh, nervous. God, this earthworm! So, interesting. Haha. So...so...er. Hm.

"Pshh. How I feel? I feel fine."

"I mean...about your, uh, crush on bee."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Twitched groaned, rolling around the grass all the way from the stack of hays to the tip of your boots. Then, she repeated the motion, each rant about your supposed love life —also, none-existent, if you will— becoming more fervent. That is, until Thrash had plucked her up by the arm pits and she fell limp like a doll in his hold.

" You said you’d be nice about it."

"What’s there to be nice about?! They’re being so smushy mushy , oh darling so lovely, it's giving me the critters!” She growled, clawing the air

You stood up with an uncertain hunch in your shoulder. You’re still holding the clump of soil in your rubber gloves, back taut and jaws slacked. The earthworm was gone, buried in the soil somewhere. You hoped it had a a nice stay unsurfaced for once — and you really should keep twitch away from Wheeljack. She's even swearing, now. She swears!

“Come on, now Twitch. It isn’t so bad.” You say quietly, not trusting yourself to yell at the skies in full volume. Really, you’ll disentigrate.

“You don’t get to talk, wuss.”

“Twitch!’’

“What?”

“Mom said be nice. A person’s word is like a kni—“

"Yeah, well she's a liar!" You shrunk asher digit juts your way. "That's gotta breach the fifteenth rule, right? A whole machete stab?"

Thrash seemed surpise. "You actually remember the rules."

You're exasperated. "What rules? And, what on earth are you both talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me!"

"Really, I'm not." Oh my god, are you really having a verbal spar with a — with a child of all bots that's half your size?!

"Oh, yeah? Then why you're nervous, huh? If you're not nervous then you've got nothing to hide."

"I'm not nervous." You said, blinking profusely.

Twitch made a face. "You're gardening."

"The grass looked bad."

"You garden when you're nervous."

You feel your lungs gave out. Your inner you's are bouncing around in your skull, panicking and screaming in disbelief. Alarm signals, blaring inside. How did she know?!

"N..no? I garden when I'm....happy." You kick the ground sheepishly. Bad call. The soil tipped over a your hold, little dots of brown mingled with the grass. Oh, dear.

"Happy? Please. You're nervous because big 'ol bee didn't have the spark to confess to missy sweet spark with barely any roots to hold herself." Twitch huffs. She's getting to sassy for her own good — "And so are you, wuss."

"We're friends!" You said, though the term was lacking. "Normal friends. Buddy, even. Buddy friends...haha...."

Thrash stiffens.

Twitch deadpans.

Both at the same time uttered : "Really?"

[ii]

They're hiding in a bush. A bush of all places. No, not the tree, obscured by the leaves and a leverage with the branches. Or, whatever hiding place is deemed suitable for this operation. A bush. Can you believe that?

Fluffy Ears nestled herself on the grass, curious eyes skimming over the several Terrans peeking over the bush. Thrash brought it upon himself to hide in the barn because, as per his words, a good spy needs a good hiding place.

The only good thing about his 'prowling' tendencies is the fact he falls asleep during these so-called covert operations. Which is why he gets most of the ranks during training. What a scammer.

Jawbreaker was too large to hide behind a,ugh, bush so he was demoted to simply standing a few meters back, loitering by the fence.

Twitch feels something poking her rib plate. Can't the spot get any more cramped? "Nightshade, I swear to Primus—"

"Hush! There he is! The first move. Hashtag, commence operation : video!"

"That's not even—"

"On it!" Hashtag wrangled out the most, honest to Unicron, humongous camera in existence.

Silence veiled the three Terrans as they spot the yellow black approaching their resident gardener-who-normally-comes-at-the-weekends-and-bee-is-distraught-over-that-fact, tending the newly planted flowers by the hedge.

"So, I was wondering..." He's stretching on his toes, not exactly looking at you.

How could he? Everytime he so much as to catch a glimpse of your face, he feels like tripping over his own pedes and burrowing himself into the ground until comets rain, the world in flames — and god knows when would Primus let him out again.

"You need something, bee?" You swivel up, pawing your apron to get off the dirt from your gloves.

But he looks confused, optics lowered downwards, brows furrowed. You look as well, then up.

"Yellow, huh." He looks away, pointing to your torso.

You look down again then realized what he meant. Your face burns with a vengeance.

"My other apron broke." You try not to stammer but it's proven futile as an amused smile eased over his face. "A-alex decided to give me his, well, you know one of his precious merch which...is typically your...um face on it. If it makes you uncomfortable—"

"No! Gosh, no. You can wear it all you want. I'm just surprised, that's all. You never really... Besides, it's nice...." He looks down and kicks the grass a little, servos behind his back. "It...suits you well."

At the compliment you look up, hoping not to make eye contact, but he does as well and you're both held at a stalemate. His round almond optics droop. For a moment, his lips part, then it shuts. He looks down, avoiding your gaze.

Is he... flustered? At that thought, you fisted the apron, bunching it a little. You look away, hiding the way you smiled a little. " ...It's a pretty color. Yellow, I mean. Honeybee. I love bees."

He looks back up, blue optics flared, and into your eyes. His chassis did those little backward flips and, he swears to Primus, he'll simply disintegrate. You're a lovely color too.

Bee flinched the moment you turn to him at break neck speed, sputtering, eyes wide and face, all the more flustered.

"What?"

"What?" He said that out loud. He said it. Out. Loud. He held up his servos. "I-i meant it's a lovely color. As in, you know, you're a lovely color so like when you said yellow was a lovely color. I thought— What I mean by that is— Oh, forget it." He lets out a deep vent. "It's been a long day. Sorry."

"You're fine. It's fine, I mean." You said. When silence veils over you both (Twitch really wants to strangle you, right now) you speak up again, quietly. "You were going to ask something...?"

His door wings pike up in surprise, much to his chagrin.

"Oh, right. Forgot about that." He coughed and cleared his throat. " I was wondering If you were...you know..." Gosh, what's that word. "Freethisweekend?"

It was so quick and quiet, you didn't really grasp much of what he uttered. “I got free— what's the next—"

"This weekend." He said, then trailed off. "Free... this weekend."

"Oh..." You look to the ground, hands primly folded behind your back.

"To... ah,” Just ask her out. Just ask her out. Worse she can say is no and no. No is fine! If you don't ask, you'll never know. That's what Elita said, right? Right? He sags. She said a lot of things.

He decides to go in for the kill but the moment he met your eyes, your pretty eyes, your temple grew warm, like really warm. He feels his own face burning and he starts stumbling over his words. “Free to. To go. To, um, a, well, a...d—dah, dah, duh, die, no! A, ah, diversion! Yes! Right. Diversion."

A domino effect of forehead slapping commenced. Bee, you fool! Twitch was wrangled back by Hashtag from leaping over the bush.

"Diversion?" Your face furrowed.

"With the....Terrans!" He snapped his servos. " Right, the Terrans. You know, a new lesson I made. Figured you'd be there for support. It's all about the essence of....diversion."

You stand there, mouth opening then closing. "...Sure, I guess. What time?"

"Anytime you're free." He says it, almost breathlessly.

You blink. "I thought it was a scheduled lesson."

His door wings pike up again. He groaned internally. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, uh. Yeah. Right. Schedule….schedule…So, how's ten tommorow? I'll round up the kids by then."

"Sounds good."

"Good. Good. See you....later."

You wave, then turned around, rounding the corner of the house. The moment you did, your face crumbled and you hid your face into your palms, a whine seethed inside your throat. Bee, however, pressed his helm against his servo, sighing.

How did I messed that up so badly?

Meanwhile, in the bush.

"Cut the film, Hash." Twitch resigned.

"But he could push on!"

"I highly doubt that." Nightshade was already crawling away.

Jawbreaker clicked thought the comms. "I saw yellow leaving. Is everything alright?"

"Nothing. Is Thrash dead? Thought so. Saw his head peeking out from the barn. Someone get him, please."

And, while they're all about to regroup. Twitch just had the perfect idea. It's about time she takes matters into her own hands.

[v]

Night plunged the skies, freckled with stars reflecting off his windshield as he rolled underneath the veil of darkness.

"Bee quick! Come to the barn! A problem just came up!"

"Twitch?" He was about to scale another ramp when he halted midway, changing course immediately. "C'mon talk to me. What's the problem?"

"Just come! It's urgent!"

Seeds of inky doubts blotched into his mind. The little runt had a lot of tricks up her sleeves. Sure, she's a heavy hitter but also a decent liar. Last time she pulled off the same shtick he was pushed into a hole....filled to the brim with mud. He walked around the vicinity and stank like cow feces for days.

He really should stop letting twitch mingle with Wheeljack.

His wheels rolled up to a stop in front of the barn. The trees, inky black, loomed around the farm, towering above him. He felt a shudder up his spine. Leaves rustled. Crickets chirp. All was quiet. Too quiet.

"Twitch? Kids?" He slid the barn door aside, joints whirring with every step. Hay crunched under his pedes. " Ugh, not this again. Guys, seriously. If, if this, Primus who littered this place? If this is one of your jokes I swear to— huh?"

The basement door was open. A gaping hole, black and swarthy greeted his eyes. Who left that open? He took a step closer. "Guys? Are you in there? What's going on?"

Another step. Then another.

"Look, you can come out now. This isn't funny."

The hole grew bigger, bigger and— Footsteps pattered behind him. It was gentle but it drew alarm as Bumblebee whirled around. And, there she was. Twitch stood before him, a wide, chesire grin on her face. The moonlight illuminated her from behind, casting an ominous shadow that loomed In front of her figure.

"Adios!"

He sputtered in confusion and felt two pedes connecting with his chest and he's sent stumbling back down the steps of Nightshade's underground lab. His shout of surprise was quickly drowned out when Twitch pulled the door shut.

"There! That'll do it." She grinned, fists on her hips. “You got that hash?”

“All on tape. Even his face too! Did you see how he looked like?” Hash stepped out of her hiding place, literally behind the hay. The original culprit of hay litter-er. "They're gonna be there for hours! Trapped in each other's embrace! Oohhhh this is so rad. You've seen those rom-coms, right? It's going be so funny when they come back out.”

"With result." Nightshade chirped, coming up beside them. "It's been awhile something has transpired. A change of the usual routine. Oh, the bore of waiting so long. As a scientist myself. I admit — it can get a little bothersome. Let's only hope the heat from the generator can keep them warm."

Silence. Hashtag feels two optics on her.

"Generator, what generator?"

"....Hashtag." They begin slowly. Twitch looks mortified.. "....Please tell me you didn't cut off the generator when I said only to cut off the vault."

Confusion furrowed her brows. "How else would the door be locked if I didn't?"

Twitch groaned, head into her palms.

Nightshade stares at the closed vault. "....Oh, dear."

[vi]

"Unnfh!" His helm collided against the floor. Great. That’s just great. Mentor student. Mentor student! You don’t do this to your mentors! Annoyance bubbled inside his chassis and he grits his teeth. That is it. That is it. He’s had enough of her tomfoolery, her jokes, her tricks! Tommorow, he’s going to put her through hell and back—

“Bee?” He feels something warm touching his shoulder.

His helm swivels up, then his optics widens in surpise when your nose is inches away from his own. You make a flustered sound, suddenly falling back on your ass to put space between you both, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d uh be that close.” Was a soft mumble. “The fall looked like it hurt. You okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine.” He breaths out, scrambling up to sit properly. He’s not sure what position, so he curled up his knee plates to his chassis. Your eyes are too…impossible to look at. “Think I broke a joint there.”

“You break joints too?”

He huffs a laugh, “You don’t think we do?” “I mean as in,” You gesture to his body, “ You know, cracking joints. Is it equivalent to me popping my knuckles? I saw you did it this morning when you stretch.” You trailed off, then shake your head. “Sorry, it’s a stupid question.”

“It’s fine. It’s not stupid. You’re not….stupid.” He clears his throat, “We also experience cramps. Tension in the joints when, well, like how a rusty hinged door won’t open up all the way.”

“Oh, that’s one way to put it.” You scoot a bit closer, pressing up against his leg. Bumblebee stiffens, servos moving over to stiffly cup your back to keep on you warm. The air was unusually chilly today. His quick scans showed the generator wasn’t working. Did the lights went out? His servos graze over your shoulders, massaging it a little, then behind your neck.

“And, and that one time. I don’t think you know him yet, he’s an old friend back during the war," He starts rambling for something to say anything to keep the conversation going, “His name’s Ratchet. Old bot forgot to oil up his pistons and couldn’t move for an entire day! Can you believe that? We had to carry him everywhere we went. Once, I was caught in the crossfire. Bullets were raining. Full on barrage. Nonstop. And he’s just like that, a plank of wood in my arms as I ran. You should’ve seen the look in his face!

“I can imagine he’s not happy,” A giggle bubbled in your throat. His audials perk up. “Yeah, I can tell. He’s a lot less crass in his manners when he dealt with me,” Bee leans a bit close, the servo skims down to your torso. “After all the bedgruding looks I’ve gotten from him — he’s got no choice but to give me special treatment of letting me off a few scolding.” “Oh? Why’s that,”

“I’m not exactly the prim and proper type.”

“My, my is bee the rebellious type?”

He lowers his voice into a playful whisper. “I had a phase, okay? Everyone does. Mine, though, it’s just worse than Arcee’s. She’s unhinged too but waaaay less moody. But don’t tell the kids that. I’m not going to have my name sullied, you hear?”

“Noted, officer. But I really can’t promised I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

He groans then a digit nudges your ribs. “No, really I’m serious. They’re going to kill me with that. I don’t want another incident to tarnish my reputation. Ive got Jawbreaker pestering me about how I made a mistake choosing my first alt-mode, I don’t need another slander. My feelings,” he says with a servo over his chassis, “they’re fragile.”

“Come on,” you leaned forward, cheek against his leg plate. Bee looks away, holding himself back from, well, squishing that…squishy part of your face. “It’s not so bad. The beetle looked adorable.”

“Beetle. Really? Beetle?” He looked almost offended you termed it that way.

“Isn’t that what it’s called?” He leans over and flicks your head. “I’d prefer it if you called it something else.”

You laugh. “I’ll bite, then. The Beatles?”

“No,” He said the words too fast, “Honey.”

You freeze. He freezes.

He did not just say that. Oh, no. He did not. He did not. When you look away that’s when he panicked. No! He’s not going to let the past few minutes go to waste! “As in yellow! Honey as in yellow!” He backpedaled, raising up his servos. “You know when I— when you said that, I was—" What’s up with him today? Then, he sags, muttering defeatedly. “It’s not what you think I meant to say.”

He’s blown it. Thrown it all down the drain. All his hard work now crumbled at the mere touch of his fingertips. You speak up after a moment, “What if…I wanted it to be what I think you meant?”

He looks at you again, surprise. He felt his spark clenching. This time you held firm eye contact despite your hands that were shaking. Think about gardening. Think about gardening. This is like that! Like he’s a flower. Gentle to hold. You steeled yourself and stood up on your toes, palms on his knee plates as you leaned in close.

“What did you meant?” You said softly.

His servos reached out to cup your cheek, curling his digits around the back of your hair. You leaned against his touch, closing your eyes. It was warm. His touch was warm. Pulsing and thrumming against your face.

“What I meant is that you’re someone important to me.” Then, he pulls you close, his optics flickering back and forth nervously. “So important I….think about you a lot. Like, a lot. I can’t….really stop. Even when I want to….its hard.”

Your face burns but you’re not letting that deter you. If god decided to kill you today, you’d steel on, wading through his comets. Think about the garden! You close the distance and your lips find the crook of his nose, pressing a gentle kiss to it, then his cheek. Your palms rested on his shoulder. Bee blinks, choking back a surpised sound at the touch but his servos manage to find your waist, curling his digits around the fabric of your shirt and pulls you close. He tilts his head so his lips would find yours.

“I think about you too.” You mumble against his lips.

#tf earthspark #tfe bumblebee #tfe bumblebee x reader #Tfe bee x reader #Bumblebee x reader #Twitch malto #hashtag malto #thrash malto #jawbreaker malto #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader

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alnilaem · 7 months

Text

a toxic ghoap wip i had in my drafts from months ago but will no longer be continuing. i just wanna dump it here lol

cw for misogyny, smut, (internalized) homophobia, hedonism, sacrilege, prostitution mention, ghost is an ass

pls heed all tags, this was a vent fic, and also bare in mind im never gonna finish this lmao

Johnny's world is asymmetrical.

His world. His beginning and his end. Humvees and Dauphin 2 helis and deployments around the globe. Undercover operations, saving women and children, the comforting carbon steel of a rifle in his hands.

It’s an unspoken stigma, but it’s there. Materialising as insults while his lads take the piss out of each other, and in the form of dishonourable discharges.

The stigma has always been there. It has no start and no finish, so Johnny can’t remember where it came from, but he knows it was there since primary, where boys would kick girls at the bends of their knees and yank on their pigtails, squatting to the floor to get a look-see up their chequered skirts and cackle, all while Johnny stood off to the side, overtly uncomfortable.

Mum’s complained. Teacher’s were involved. Dad’s simply said, “Boys will be boys,” and the situation was brushed under the carpet.

The stigma tailed Johnny into secondary school. His older cousin lent him a suit for formal, which prompted Johnny awkwardly standing on his doorstep with his date—a pretty lass named Rory—as his mam snapped a spate of photos.

Johnny’s disposition was a grave juxtaposition to Rory’s. She was all grins and giggles, cantered into Johnny’s arm, while he was inelastically poised with tight lips.

His mam wouldn’t stop pinching his supple cheeks, trying to shepherd a smile out of him. She gave up, throwing her hands in the air and wheedling them off the porch, tacking on an ornate, “Have fun, kiddos!” as they pooled into Johnny’s scrap metal car.

Johnny felt as if he was lacking something. As if his wings had been clipped by the world a little too soon. It’s always been like that. A piece of him plucked from his wracking ribs and stolen, ever since he was a little boy. So in a lapse of judgement, in order to prove himself, to shatter the bubbling stigma, Johnny sought out the most masculine thing to offset his failure: follow in the steps of his cousin, and enlist.

It was a rashly undertaken decision, but a decision he stuck with, because, for the first time in forever, Johnny’s old man clasped his shoulder in pride.

But stigma was an incessant little thing. Because even in military school, it followed him closely. As Johnny’s school brothers had Playboy rafts and pin-up girls folded into their pillow cases, he would blunder upon being asked, “Who’d ye shag?” by his mate.

In boot camp, he was a lowly private, whose hands would jade and cramp from cleaning rifles. They gave him blisters. And so his bunkmate—a nice lad from Glasgow with a crooked nose—would tend to his fingers during their lunch routine. Hidden somewhere in the corner, making jokes about their Drill Instructor. Callum, was his name. He’d swathe Johnny’s hands in gauze and garnish it with a lopsided smiley face. It always sucked, fell apart half way, but he did it anyway.

That’s when Johnny started blistering his hands on purpose.

Wedging his thumb in the dip of a garand and not pulling it out until it was swollen. Then he’d snivel, seeking Callum out in their barracks. There was a pull in Johnny’s stomach, half of an ebb that finished Callum’s flow. It would give him rashly undertaken ideas—such as fixing his hand in the lid of an armoury shell—for Callum to fix up. Johnny would find him among their other friends, beseeching with his cobalt eyes, holding out a hand.

In enlistment, his confusion ripened into a gravely miscalculated realisation. That it wasn't an affinity for men Johnny wanted to be—to attract ladies with his chest candy and the brandished title of military man—no, it reared its ugly head when Johnny finally became his own private. Grinning, at the time, clean-shaven and giddy as his mother snapped a spate of photos of him saluting in his new uniform, plaintively whining when she reached out to adjust his garrison cap because “It’s lopsided, pumpkin!” To which Johnny, under the searing gaze of his fellow privates, would clip, “‘Cos it’s meant to be like tha’, ma!”

Johnny didn’t know when it started. He just remembered realising how good Callum looked one day at the range—sweat sluicing down his pale neck, disappearing behind his lapels, ass filling out the space of his pants as he would squat to the ground and aim for the faraway target. Before he knew it, Johnny was seizing lights out. Using the time to sneak off to the bathrooms and cramp a fist around his leaking cock, beating his dick to the thought of him. Him, him, him.

Johnny’s sordid thoughts didn’t emulate what his granny had planned for him—to pass down her old wedding stack once he “Found the right lass,” to bring home to her; it wasn’t what the Orthodox spiels of sermons and hymns and praise on Sunday’s drilled into him; it wasn’t what his uncle was anticipating—“Got a girlfrien’ yet, Johnny-boy? Ah, why’re ye frowning! Soon enough, ye will.”

His fantasies rivalled those of his squadmates. Because on his first tour, a summer ten years ago in the chilly expanse of Northern Ireland was a woman that approached them. Denim skirt and a mulberry red halter top. Kitten heels, sunglasses. Shiny lipgloss. She tried to ply them by batting her eyes, offering her services. She was smart. Military men always paid. It’s the desperation that got to them most of the time, a tinge of worry, and a hint of entitlement. They took the bait. Rode her back to camp and took their turns with her.

When it was Johnny’s turn, he listlessly declined and hung his head. He said he had a lass waiting for him back home—Rory—that’s the first name that popped in his head. His secondary school girlfriend in which he sobbed on when he tried kissing her. Johnny said he had a bird, just like all his other lads, with pictures of their wives and girlfriends pinned to the massive cork board in the middle of their camp. But they had no problem indulging themselves.

They were shoving him around, calling him all sorts of names, bullying him into following them. And that’s when Johnny caved. A cacophony of hollers flared out around him as he ducked into the tent where the woman lay, thin bed sheets hiked up to her collarbones, her previous lipgloss smeared over her chin.

Johnny said, “Hi, how are you?” Because that’s what his mother taught him. She softly giggled.

Not at him, but with his overdue respect.

Johnny shucked off his uniform with trembling hands, mounting her with his dick flaccid and stomach flipping. He remembers ruminating, “Why don’t you like it? You should like it. Love it,” but his heart leapt to his throat and his navel twisted, heart seized as the head of his cock kept slipping around her messy opening, poking her thigh. His throat constricted, dry, then slackened. A muffled sob wracked through him. Barely concealed by the threshold of his thin lips. He pushed his tongue into the roof of his mouth and buried his face in the crook of her neck, collapsing into her bare chest, furiously wiping his tears into the inflatable mattress.

Then, the body beneath him quivered. Johnny hoisted himself up, a spiel of apologies curling off of his tongue, when he realised she was crying too. The same type as him—wrung out, jaded, tired. She blindly reached out for him and pulled him close. Not reaching for his dick nor biting sensual whispers into his ear. They held each other for a little while, coalescing as their cries muffled into each other’s skin. Then, she pushed him off. Slid off the mattress and snaked her into her clothes.

They both left the tent shaking. She was still sniffling. His lads cheered as she walked away and clapped him on the back.

That’s when Johnny realised there wasn't a place for him in his world. Johnny shrunk himself, half the light he used to be, pushing himself into a little box as his world around him clipped off his wings.

Now, Johnny’s world consists of something a little different.

Something sinewy and rough around the edges. Gruff, but tactical. Calm, akin to the placid sea, but could flip a switch and emulate its choppy waters if he wanted to, too. Big, striking, with eyes that could kill a sailor. A deep timbre mandated by Manchester. Wide-set shoulders but a willowy waist, hips that sway as he walks. A macabre mask and skeletal gloves—ones that have Johnny wrapped tightly around his fingers.

Johnny grew into himself between serving in the parachute regiment to selection for the SAS. He got rougher. Learned how to hide himself better. Perfectly fit himself within the Task Force, around men who would become his best friends and brothers. He’s otherwise your normal guy. Goes to the bar with the team when they’re able. Shooting darts with Gaz (“You’ve got a Marksman badge but can’t score more than two points? C’mon, mate…”); pool with Price; and drinks with Ghost.

Beer always sloshes over the lip of Ghost’s glass when they clink their drinks. It crashes up and over the Brit’s fingers, dripping down his hands, between his thick fingers. Johnny always resists the urge to lean in close and lick the wash of alcohol glistening Ghost’s knuckles.

But they’re just friends. Apparently. Because friends don’t fuck.

It started way down in Chicago’s heart, after another op. Gaz—ever the exploiter of his puppy eyes—managed to ply Price into stopping at a bar instead of heading straight back to base for paperwork. So they stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall, still rife with adrenaline, spreading out and all doing their own thing.

Johnny and Ghost were sat around a rickety table with wobbly legs. A spread of peanut shells around them and sticky rings of alcohol from their glasses glossing the surface. Ghost raised an arm to wipe his eyes, knocking over Johnny’s beer in the process. An expletive crossed the Brit’s tongue and he apologised, grasping a fistful of napkins and scrubbing it over Johnny’s soaked shirt.

It ebbed and flowed in long, rough strokes. Ghost’s hand gliding over Johnny’s legs, Ghost’s middle finger and thumb snapped around Johnny’s thigh, his grasp cutting into the sinews.

It wasn’t that different from suturing a teammate up after a mission. But with the unsaid admiration Johnny had for him, tempered by the hint of alcohol on the roof of his mouth and the hazel canopy of Ghost’s lashes, over his focused eyes, arousal quickly seized Johnny.

Ghost’s hand brushed over a tent on Johnny’s jeans. One that hadn’t been there before. He cut his next stroke from the root, pausing, and blinked up at his friend.

The Scotsman felt a wound up spring in his stomach. He turned away, smacking Ghost’s hand, and ran a hand through his black tuft of hair, slapping both sides of his shaved heads. He felt his lungs betray him—squeezing like dried fruit and refusing to expand—to yield to his sudden heavy breathing and quick succession of heartbeats.

Johnny shook his head. Sputtering. “Lad, y’know, sometimes we can’t control ‘em–”

The words died on his tongue when Ghost flattened hand against the bend of his knee. He was testing the waters.

Johnny looked back, gulping, and took the bait. He inched his knee closer, until it met with Ghost’s thick leg. It’s something he’s done so many times. When he was starved for friction but couldn’t make it overtly obvious—grazing Ghost’s hand passing him a flare; knocking his foot under the table during debrief (“Sorry, lad,”); applying extra gauze to a slice in his torso just to feel Ghost’s chest throb below his fingers a little more.

But this is different. Something Johnny’s chased for so long. A tangible ghost on his tongue for a flavour he’s longed for with just fantasies while he fucked his fist late into the night.

Ghost tightened his hold on Johnny’s thigh. “Sons of bitches, ain’t they?”

His voice was taut. As was the muscle between Johnny’s shoulders.

They exchanged a glance. Soundless, but not wordless. Then Ghost slunk his hand down and wrapped it around Johnny’s swelling cock.

The feeling of it—a sensation so foreign, so yearned for—penetrated Johnny’s core. It made him yelp and jerk his knee into the table, sending more beer spilling over the rim of his glass and onto his pants.

Ghost hummed, shook his head. “C’mon, Johnny, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” And he inclined his head towards the bathroom in the back.

Johnny blindly nodded, yielding to Ghost’s hold as he hoisted him from his seat. Ghost directed them through the sea of gyrating bodies and towards the toilets. They bursted inside, and the Brit pulled Johnny into the last stall. A seedy little thing, with graffiti and the ash of cigarette butts welded into its walls.

The succeeding acts were a blip in the streamline of Johnny’s memory. He remembers Ghost shucking his pants down, then settling himself behind him. He remembers Ghost’s gloveless hand reaching around and working over his drooling cock. He remembers a voice in his ear, “What the fuck are we doing,” and a bulbous cockhead poking his ass. He remembers the shrill rattle of the stall hinges as he withered against it, trembling under Ghost’s deft hands, the finger that swept over the slit of his cock and slipped down to fondle his balls.

Before white-hot pleasure seared his vision, Johnny remembers emptying his come into the crotch of his denims, shaking, as it dampened his pants and as Ghost commanded him to pull it back up.

They left the bar alongside each other, meeting everyone else on the pavement. Johnny’s lips were popped open and swollen. Peeling, from how his teeth had sunk into them. His eyes were glossy and his hair was tousled in the middle of his head. He had a wet patch on his jeans.

“Oh, you are pissed, mate,” Gaz exclaimed, “I– that’s pee?”

“Spilled some water,” Ghost lied to the other teammates, “had to sort him out.”

They made it back to base within hours, signing off to their quarters.

The next day, Johnny didn’t see him at all.

The day after that, too; Ghost didn’t even spare him a glance.

He tried reassuring himself. Ghost hadn’t talked about men before—not in this calibre—so Johnny told himself it’s because he was digesting what rashly happened in Chicago.

That was, until, he was paged one night. A command from Ghost to meet him in his quarters. The message was succinct: one sentence, leaving no lines to be read between. Johnny walked ambled to his room with his heart in his stomach and his blood rushing to his ears. Nudging the door open, Ghost was on the edge of his bed, legs parted, smarting denim-washed jeans and a black pullover. A simple, soft gauze balaclava.

His eyes slid upwards first. Then the rest of his head. Ghost pinned Johnny under his smouldering gaze, then beckoned him forward with the tilt of his head. No words were swapped. Ghost simply tugged Johnny forward, between his thick thighs, and bullied the Scotsman to his knees with a hand splayed over his half-shaved head.

Johnny’s eyes widened. He popped his lips open to speak—lips Ghost whispers his thumb over to seal shut, uprooting his words from its step. Ghost shook his head, undid his belt with a single hand, and shucked down his jeans. He palmed himself for a while, watching Johnny’s eyes sheen over, before pushing his boxer-briefs scarcely over his meaty thighs, pinching the head of his cock.

Ghost didn’t even bother pulling his balls out. Just his dick—long, thick, a comely vein running beneath it—better than anything Johnny’s ever wanted. Better than the images he’s fucked his fist to, memories of Ghost, freshly out of the shower after sparring, his thin towel outlining the barest hint of his dick.

Johnny reaches out, but Ghost swipes it back. He tuts and softly smacks his cock against Johnny’s ruddy cheek, watching as a string of his precum connects to Johnny’s face.

“How bad do ya wan’ it, Johnny?” Ghost had prompted, swiping his cockhead over the Scotsmans lips, then pulling it back whenever his jaw readily slacked.

“Real… real bad, Lt.” He breathed.

Ghost tapped his cheek again. “Open.”

And so Johnny did. Like it was second nature, like he’s been wanting for so long. Waiting for so fucking long.

Johnny’s lips popped open and closed around Ghost’s wet tip. He swirled his tongue around it, clumsy in his movements, teeth grazing Ghost’s skin.

He winced. “Easy…”

Johnny blinked in a rapid succession, nodding, sucking him in a little deeper, mindful of hollowing out his cheeks and relaxing his jaw. Ghost’s eye twitched, hands digging into his tuft, hanging his head back, softly bucking his hips up into Johnny’s mouth.

“Atta boy, Johnny, fuck– where the fuck’d you learn this, eh?”

Johnny replied with a gargled purl of precum and saliva coalescing in his mouth, gagging over the wide girth splitting his jaw open. Ghost laughed, his gloved hand settling on the scruff of Johnny’s neck, pulling him a little closer; sinking his cock a little deeper, rutting his pelvis into his squadmate's pliable mouth.

Ghost cums. Johnny laps it all up. And in an undertaken lapse of judgement, rises to his feet, puckering his frosted lips, ready to hike Ghost’s balaclava above his nose and share his taste with him. But Ghost set a hand to Johnny’s face, shaking his head. He tucked his softening cock back into his pants.

That was the first instance Johnny disregarded. One he ignored in favour of indulging himself in something he yearned after for years. He didn’t realise his grave digging began there—when he witlessly nodded in response.

And from there, it became a cycle. It was always on Ghost’s call. Never Johnny’s. When Ghost wanted his dick sucked; when Ghost wanted a wet and tight hole wrapped around his cock. Johnny knew better. He knew he was being shepherded into something bad, but he couldn’t help himself.

Trembling under Ghost, his whole world encompassed by the Brit’s towering stature, was all that mattered to him. Getting spread over a cock he’s wanted for so long, a long ways from the taboo fantasies that’s collected cobwebs in his thoughts for so long.

Johnny was less of a teammate, more of an outlet for Ghost to exhaust his frustrations into. Even then, it was a pill Ghost had trouble swallowing. As if he’ll acknowledge it, and a relationship will materialise. So he stays still—fucks Johnny like a dirty little secret then turns the other way.

Johnny tries talking to him. Tries telling him he struggled with the same thing. That he isn’t alone and that he belongs here. That there’s no shame in it.

Simon collapses Johnny’s pleads with a final, resolute bark. “I ain’t gay, mate. You’re a friend helping a friend.”

basically it ends with Simon shepherding Johnny into some hedonistic, one-sided relationship. Johnny just accepts it bc if Simon wont love him, he’ll do it by proxy, because hes all fucked out and desperate for him🖤🖤

#my writing style here is so old and gross and clunky #ghost/soap #ghostsoap #soap/ghost #soapghost #ghoap #simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #ghoap writing

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three-realms-archive · 2 months

Text

What is Up, Fellow Celestials?

You and Simeon had been dreading this day, ever since Luke had first taken an interest in humans. Luke had little interest in humanity before you came along - but, upon observation, he quickly realised that the humans who looked like him were so… freshly-baked. So… new. So young.

“Maybe this is why MC always sticks around when I use the oven…” The young angel muttered, observing a group of human students playing at a human park. They looked like him - speaking in voices that sounded like his. His eye followed one human boy in particular, who lay down in some kind of oversized, wooden tray. The human’s fist, filled with sand, was getting very close to his open mouth.

“What a stupid human.” Luke mumbled, watching the boy’s mother come over to save him. “I’d never do anything like that.”

Suddenly, he heard a group of humans (thankfully not in the sandy box) cheering. Out of the corner of his eye, one of their group - a human girl with swoopy, rainbow hair and metal growing on her teeth - flashed into view. She rode a panel of wood on wheels, arms adorned with colourful rectangles of paper, and little flashes of light shone from the soles of her shoes when she walked. Luke’s eyes widened, hypnotised. She spat when she spoke - mouth smiling big and opening wide. This human girl radiated pure confidence. Not only that, but MC had never used any of the words he was hearing her say now. He wondered why.

But one thing was certain.

… This girl was really, really cool.

…

“Sure, whatevs, MC.” Luke huffed in what was an oddly-enthusiastic portrayal of nonchalant. He wasn’t wearing his usual hat to RAD today. His hair was bubble-gum blue and seaweed green; and smelled suspiciously like the paint used in last period’s art class. “We can play catch after class. I hope to show the brothers my, um, swagger; before then. I’ll play catch with you later too, Simeon."

You and Simeon blinked, staring dumbfoundedly at each other as Luke rolled away. Literally rolled. On what looked like a celestial hoverboard. Where did he get that?

“I think… I think he meant to say he’d catch us later.” You started slowly. Simeon looked like his body had encountered an error. “And that he wants to show his bros - maybe he wanted to say swag? Do angels know human slang?”

Simeon wasn’t responding. You frowned, concerned.

“Simeon? Simeon, are you okay?” You say, shaking the angel’s shoulder. “Do you need water?”

Simeon slowly turned his head to you. His spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“Luke… He looks so cool.”

(hehe this was just a little fun, i need to give the dateables more love. the last part is inspired by that audio drama where simeon gets excited by turning a laptop on, its great go listen to it, i think it accompanied his character song. i also think that, if luke ever had a crush on someone, they’d be someone with a very strong aesthetic. could be something like this cool skater girl, or like cutesy bows/frills/dresses i can see too. as long as it’s really striking)

#later levi texts you #‘why tf is luke here showing me and my brothers FabSnap dances?????’#‘mc help pls my eyes’#you reply ‘sry can’t rn simeon’s broken’#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me writing #obey me mc #obey me nightbringer #obey me simeon #obey me luke

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capr1pengu1n · 1 month

Note

Man, I really throughly enjoyed your vigilante!reader x riddler story. I just absolutely love the way you characterize him. I’ve been thinking about it for days, no joke. It’s where my mind ends up wandering. So if you feel compelled, may I request a similar situation, a bat-family reader x reader, but with a more hmmmm antagonistic approach maybe? Banter, name-calling, taunts, curses, gibes. Idk, I need them at each other’s throats, to the point where they lift cannot stand each other, then…hate sex ensues! Maybe my girl fights for dominance, but is ultimately a switch-leaning sub, so when Eddie does ultimately overpower her, he’s down right giddy at how submissive she can be when she’s not a pain in his ass. (Also, if you could throw in a size kink for Eddie I’d die a happy women, but do what you want and what your comfortable with, or ignore this all together, I just really love your writing!)

I'll break your pretty face

Summary: After solving your rival's incessant riddles, you're face to face with the man who has been giving you a headache for months now. But with emotions bubbling to the surface, you find out just how much your rival hates to feel about you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), hate sex, dubcon (to be safe), dom!edward, fingering, spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, Edward being a condescending ass, insults and snide remarks galore.

Words: 5.2k

Notes: Thank you very much for the request anon! This was so much fun to write, and i'm happy to have finished it before going away with my family. I hope you enjoy!

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Running, your heels burn as you race to the back of the abandoned shopping mall, your cape billowing around your form as you sprint. The riddle you’d been given at the last location rattles around in your head, racing through the possibilities. ‘I shine like the sun, yet I'm cold to the touch, In the earth I am found, deep within as such. I clink and I clank, and I’m strong and steadfast, From coins to machines, through ages I last.’

All you know is that it’s located at the back of the abandoned shopping project in amusement mile, so you’d sped over on your motorcycle to beat the timer. This was all a game, his twisted version of a game. Right now, The Riddler had Officer Patel from the GCPD with a bomb collar around his neck in the middle of a pig pen; with glee he’d explained you had to do his stupid treasure hunt to find the code-word that would disarm the bomb remotely, letting the police know his location. While you know Gordon has his men searching any farm or slaughterhouse, simply solving his puzzles was quicker and more reliable to get the officer to safety. His demented scavenger hunt had taken you all over Gotham, your motorcycle practically out of fuel by now, as each location was another puzzle or stupid memory game that would lead you elsewhere. You slightly felt like a headless chicken, running around wherever he told you.

Getting to the back of the mall, you catch your breath as your eyes dart around the various stores that you can see, or maybe it’s in the employees only area? The riddle echoes in your head again…metal? But if that’s the answer, what does that have to do with-

Your gaze falls on the Hot Topic store, abandoned and derelict, but unmistakable with the sign out front. Metal music. It has to be in there, you think as you notice the security camera seemingly pointed right at you, red light on despite the supposed lack of power. He’s watching you, you know he is. Pointing your middle finger right where he’d be able to see, you enter the store and look around. God he infuriated you, his smug smile a constant picture in your head whenever you think about his riddles or his crimes. The way he talks to you is different than how he talks about your family, no with you he seems to be ten times more condescending. The patronising tone gets you more riled up than anything, with the falsely charming comments about your looks just seeking to make the anger rise up your chest like lava bubbling to the top of a pissed off volcano.

Sure enough, inside the store was an arrow spray painted in a metallic shade of green, pointing to a cassette player with a crude smiley face. You go towards it and press play, hearing the word ‘Venality’ screamed from a pained voice, presumably Officer Patel, along with a button flashing. Switching it on, seemingly nothing happens for a few moments, your eyes frantically looking around to see if you missed anything. Then your comms device crackles to life.

“Riddler just made contact, said you solved the puzzle. Gordon is sending his men for the officer, good work.” You hear Bruce say, causing you to smile a little. You’re glad you helped, and despite how shallow it makes you feel, you’re glad you got praise from your adoptive father. Hard to impress, you feel satisfied that you’re able to prove yourself, that’ll teach Tim not to doubt your intellectual skills again at least.

You’re just about to leave the store when static fills your ears again, this time from the old speakers hanging above the clothes racks. “Oh look at that, my favourite dimwitted little girl was able to solve my puzzles.”

Gritting your teeth, you leave the store and stand in the empty space outside before the speakers in the mall itself crackle to life. “Walking off are you? Oh are you having a tantrum? Poor girl, do you want me to call daddy to pick you up?”

His condescending tone was like nails down a chalkboard to you as you glare up at the security camera. “What’s wrong? Pissed off I beat you?”

“I’d hardly call that display beating me, a child could have probably solved those riddles faster than you. Still I suppose you saved the life of the corrupt cop, how lovely.”

“Oh? I thought I was a child according to you.”

“Dear, it’s called infantilization,” you can hear the smirk on his face as he continues to patronise you, “Besides, I know you aren’t a child with a body like that, no matter how much you try and hide it with such garish costumes.”

Fighting the blush at his crude comment, you shake your head. “I know you aren’t the one to talk about garish outfits.”

This elicits a throaty laugh from the criminal. “Oh I’m hurt darling, truly… Oh wait a second, I’m not! Why would I bother with an opinion from someone of such little worth and brain capacity!”

You roll your eyes, glancing away from the camera for a moment to suppress the urge to give him the reaction he’s clearly looking for. When you’d followed in the unconventional family footsteps of becoming a vigilante, Bruce was clear and concise with how he taught you about the different criminals that operated throughout Gotham. Both their modus operandi in terms of their various crimes and escapades, but also their psychological profiles. Edward Nigma was a textbook narcissist who thrives on the attention and validation of others, so you were determined to not give him what he craved.

“Leaving already dear?” he asks as you head to leave, “you haven’t even asked where I am.”

“You’ve rerouted your signal through seven different countries’ VPN networks, we’ll find you eventually.”

“I guarantee you will not. Well, maybe the bat or one of his many boy blunders who trail after him like deformed puppies will. But not you.”

Swallowing, you breathe slowly to calm yourself. Don’t rise to him. Don’t rise to him.

“No, but I’m nothing if not charitable. Why don’t I offer you something, maybe it’ll help you prove yourself to the other precious little costumed freaks.”

That makes you pause, as if he was aware of your internal complex to prove you earnt your place in your family as you glance at the camera.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you where I am of course. Provided you come alone. If you contact the GCPD, or any of the aforementioned costumed freaks, I’ll be gone and I’ll be sure that the next bomb will be around your pretty neck instead.”

You know Bruce would be telling you not to, to realise it was a trap, or another stupid mind game. But you can’t deny the temptation…to be the one to take down the Riddler, that’ll cause everyone’s doubts about you to dissipate, right?

“Fine…how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

He barks out another laugh. “Oh silly girl, you don’t know. But I still think you’ll come, such a hopelessly plucky thing you are.”

It’s like a blur, you find yourself nodding and listening to the address before getting on your motorcycle. As you drive through the city, the twinkling lights reflecting on the shine of your handlebars, your thoughts are scattered as you travel. This really is a bad idea, and you know it. You hate him, his stupid tone and stupid puzzles and stupid face…and yet here you are, pulling up to the abandoned building and making your way inside. Green graffiti greets you, messages like ‘can you defeat a mind such as mine?’ taunting you as you head down the hallway to a derelict living area. Flickering in the corner, you step over and see the monitor set up on the table was broadcasting the feed from the shopping mall.

“Oh good, you can follow simple instructions.”

You’re on high alert as you spin around, battle stance ready as he walks in calm as anything, question mark cane twirling in his gloved hand. With his trademark smirk etched on his face, he stands there with his head tilted.

“So what’s the plan, little girl? Knock me out, beat me up, make me repent.” He chuckles at his own words. “Or maybe just look at me.”

“You flatter yourself.” You snap at him.

“I know, it’s my favourite activity. A man with looks as well as an intellect are hard to find you know, even harder to find in a vigilante. Pity you only seem to have one of those.”

Barely suppressing the eye-roll, you bite back at him. “You won’t be so patronising when you’re in a straitjacket.”

“I’m so scared.” He says dryly, stepping closer. On instinct you lunge for him, knocking him straight in the cheek, but his reflexes are better than you thought, as a split second later his cane makes contact with your arm. The pain sends you stumbling to the right, bracing on the rat-bitten sofa as Edward grits out a laugh.

“Well well well, the brat really can punch. I’d say that was definitely in the…hm…top fifteen punches to the face I’ve taken? What an achievement.”

Despite his sarcasm, his hand is gently touching his cheek to assess the damage, and a bit of you smirks at the knowledge he’ll have a killer bruise in the morning. However so will you, if the dull throb in your arm is anything to go by.

“You hit like a girl, even with your cane.”

“Now dear, isn’t that a little sexist? Insinuating that girl’s punches are weak, I’m a little surprised.” He mocks you, smirking as he stands back to his full height. Having never been in the same room as him before, you’re a little taken aback by just how tall he really was. Sure he wasn’t the most muscular man you’d ever seen, but he clearly took the time to have a slim and strong appearance which matched his imposing stature. He rolls his neck, looking you up and down.

“Enough with the feeble attempts at brutality, you aren’t the batman.” He sneers at you, before you glare at him.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Why did I invite you here..” he repeats your question, pretending to ponder it before his eyes grow cold. “Because I hate you. I hate how…stupidly you solve my puzzles.”

You barely have time to process his weird dichotomy before he continues. “I hate how I underestimated you, I thought you were just some silly girl who put on a costume and thought yourself a hero. But now, you’re an annoying thorn in my side.”

He pulls out the gun from his belt, the gun you foolishly missed in your blind haze of annoyance and hatred as you back away slowly.

“So perhaps I brought you here to kill you, to finally rid myself of my annoying problem. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”

You pause at his last sentence, but he steps forward and places the gun against your forehead. Swallowing, you look up at him, at how his breathing is deeper than before and his hair had fallen out of place so strands fall limply against his eyebrows. Running out of time, you gently move your hand and mess with the end of his purple tie, feeling the silk material. His eyes dart, confused and with a hint of something else entirely, down to the movement of your fingers.

Taking that as your chance, you move to hit the gun away from him, kicking upwards. He grunts in pain, as you push him to the floor, gun clattering out of reach. Landing squarely on top of him, he grabs your arms and flips you with an ease that took you off guard completely. Instead of the cold glare he gave you a few moments ago, now he just laughs.

“So naïve, you think I’m not used to getting a woman on her back?” he taunts.

“Yeah I do think that, I can’t imagine a woman wanting to be in bed with someone like you.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” he smirks, leaning in closer as he pins you properly against the hardwood floor, “I think you’ll find I do quite fine with whoever catches my attention. It’s just that nobody can ever hope to match me.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing your neck, digging in to the sides and causing you to squirm and struggle. However, unfortunately it causes your cheeks to flush which doesn’t escape his notice.

“Are you blushing?” he says, eyes frantically darting around your face.

Embarrassed beyond belief, you try and use his momentary shock to once again gain the upper hand, pushing him off you and scrambling to get up. However he’s one step behind you, getting up from the floor and grabbing your arm, pinning you face first against the wall. His height means he has to lean down to talk into your ear, his grip harsh as he keeps you in place.

“You are blushing, oh isn’t this precious. The pathetic girl is attracted to me. Well I’m not surprised, I am a specimen.”

“Do you ever shut up.” You snap, trying to move but instead he presses his chest fully into your back, hand unclipping your utility belt so it falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Not when I’m having fun. Finally you’re actually worth a damn.”

You turn and spit at him, the saliva only succeeding in creating a small stain on his white shirt, to which he tuts.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Spitting at me like that.” He starts as he grips your neck from behind. “I could just choke you right here, right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me now, without your little toys, or without backup from your dimwitted friends. No I think you should show a bit of respect to the man who holds your life literally in his hands.”

You still, the situation really dawning on you as you’re pressed against the wall. He uses his other hand to tug your hood down, before pulling your hair so he can look at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked this.” He mutters, his hand gently stroking the strands now and giving you whiplash from the tonal shift. “Is that true? Do you like being dominated?”

“No.” you lie, gritting your teeth as he laughs.

“No? Then why are your pupils dilated? Why is your chest moving rapidly with your frantic breathing? Either you like this, or you’re a truly pathetic hero to be this scared.”

You know deep down he’s right, and you hate it. You hate it as much as you hate him, and you hate him as much as you’ve always been secretly attracted to him. Seemingly, the twisted feeling is mutual as he pushes his knee between your thighs.

“What are you-“

��Use whatever limited cognitive abilities you possess to come up with an educated guess.” He taunts, as his knee presses against your clothed cunt. You bite back a gasp, lips parting as your hips buck forward without warning. “See? I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

It’s sick, it really is disgusting how turned on you feel as the murderer you’ve been trying to catch is currently helping you move over his knee and thigh, grinding against him. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock against the material of his suit trousers, the green being practically the only colour you can focus on. “I hate you…”

He smirks at your admission as he leans in, warm breath tickling your ear. “And I really believe that you believe that.”

You shudder at the whisper, as he grabs your upper arms and spins you so you’re facing him. Gripping your throat once again, his lips slam into yours in a brutal kiss, months of biting remarks and taunts accumulating into this dizzying moment of passion and desire. Not one to give up, you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him closer, tongue trying to assert dominance in his mouth. You feel the grin he has at your antics, his free hand lifting your thigh so he can grind against you.

When he pulls away, a small trail of spit connects you both as you stare at each-other. You really hate how handsome he looks like this, his eyes softer but no less condescending as he looks down at you, large hand moving away from your neck to grip your jaw.

“Much more appealing when you aren’t running your mouth.” He mutters quietly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Feeling the cold leather, you bite down gently and tilt your head to pull his glove off, which causes his eyes to narrow in amusement.

“Oh I see, trying to get me to touch you properly? Are you that starved for affection? I almost pity you.” He taunts, but his hand runs down your cheek in such a soft manner that it takes your breath away. Fingertips dance down to your pulse point, then down to your cape, unclipping it so it falls to the floor with your belt. His eyes roam your figure, and you know you should just punch him hard and get out of there, but when his finger fiddles with the zip at the top of your suit, you jolt with a passion and spin him so he’s against the wall. Surprisingly he lets you, as he laughs against your lips when you kiss him forcefully. He grips your hips and brings you against him, having to crane his neck downwards to keep kissing you.

Your hands feel his chest through his expensive shirt, running over where his nipple is which causes him to jump a little. Relishing in that, you run your fingers along the same spot again to which he growls and pushes you quickly. Stumbling back, he pins you against the back of the sofa and smirks.

“You’re so easy to push around, some vigilante you are.” He teases, although clearly trying to deflect from the fact he himself was flustered from your outburst. To punctuate his words, he cups your clothed cunt roughly, causing a small whine to escape you. “See isn’t that much better? To just give in to the wills of your superiors.”

You try and bite back, but it dies in your throat when he keeps groping you, this time roughly pulling the zip down of your suit so it reveals your black bra. He takes his other glove off, placing it on the back of the sofa before groping at your chest with both hands, causing your back to arch.

“Oh sweetheart, if I’d have known this is what you were hiding under that stupid outfit, I’d have rid you of it long ago.”

Tugging your suit, you let him use your limbs like a rag-doll to get the top half of your suit off, before unclipping your bra and placing it with his glove. His hands grope your newly exposed chest, circling your nipples as he groans softly at the sight. He cruelly pinches just to watch you cry out.

“That’s it, let me use you. You just love it don’t you?”

You don’t answer, which clearly aggravates him. He pinches your right nipple roughly yet again, as his left hand comes up to tug your hair. “I said, you love it. Don’t. You.”

“Yes!” you finally cry out, hips bucking into nothing as your breath comes out shaky and stunted. His self satisfied grin speaks volumes as he pats your cheek condescendingly.

“Good girl.”

Impatiently, he tugs down the rest of your suit so it hangs limply around your knees, allowing your thighs to part just enough for Edward to fit his big hand between them. Feeling how soaked you are, he grits out a moan as he explores your folds. Letting out a soft moan yourself, you shiver at the villain’s touch as he circles your clit.

“You’re drenched…is this what you do to all the criminals you fight? Strip when you lose the upper hand?” he taunts, moving his fingers faster over your throbbing heat.

“No…of course I don’t…” you grit out, whimpering again at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Good. I’d carve out their eyes you know.” He whispers darkly, and despite your conscience your pussy throbs at his words. “I don’t think I like the idea of anyone else knowing how slutty you are.”

“I’m not slutty.” You try and argue, but it’s hard for those words to carry any weight when you’re shivering and moaning under his precise touch. He has the audacity to laugh in your face.

“I think we both know that’s not true darling. Slutty for me, the criminal who you came here to stop. If only Gotham knew the truth about their prettiest hero.”

At your embarrassed noise, he brings his fingers down lower to play with your hole. “Do you want me here?”

Not having the strength to resist your desires anymore, you nod pathetically as he smirks. You expected him to make you beg or grovel, but instead he sinks two fingers into your cunt, your legs shaking at the slight stretch.

“You're prettier when you’re polite.” He says as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so you moan louder for him. Clenching around his digits, you hold on to his shoulder, his eyes full of concentration as you look up at his face.

“Fuck…I didn’t expect you to be so-“

“Good at this?” he taunts, continuing the steady pace of his fingers, “I’m hardly a blushing virgin dear. I know how to make a woman feel pleasure.”

“That’s surprising.” You can’t help but mock, which causes him to hum and reach his hand around your neck once more.

“Don’t be a brat. You were doing so well.” He hisses, pushing against your g spot. “I could just stop, leave you here all wet and wanting and pathetic.”

You think there’s a good chance he’s bluffing, but with how much your clit aches with desire you decide you aren’t willing to take that risk. So you shake your head. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Say sorry.”

You whine, but he stops the movements of his fingers, leaving them deep inside you without moving. His grip on your neck tightens slightly as he stares you in the eyes.

“I said, say sorry. Surely you aren’t that dumb that you don’t know how to apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, so he pulls out his fingers and gives your cunt a harsh slap.

“Is that it?” he taunts, reveling in how you cried out at the slap, “I could barely hear your little whisper. Say it again, say it properly. Say ‘I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.’”

Shame and embarrassment burn throughout your body like a wildfire, his words the match you’d practically lit for him. With a shaky breath, you repeat it.

“I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, just forces his fingers back inside your dripping heat roughly. Moaning, you relax as best you can with your ass pressed against the back of a rather uncomfortable sofa and enjoy his slender fingers filling you up. His pace is intense but steady, his eyes firmly on yours as he watches your reactions to every little change in pace or angle. It’s like he’s operating a machine, pressing the right buttons and connecting the right wires to achieve his intended results.

When his other hand lets go of your neck to rub messily at your clit, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your moans getting breathy and desperate. His smirk grows as he notices, feeling your thighs start to shake and your hips move.

“Getting close?” he asks, and you nod desperately. You can feel the pleasure nearly reaching the pinnacle, just a few more thrusts of his fingers and…oh god you’re going to-

He pulls his fingers out roughly, and his face is one of pure satisfaction as you whine pitifully at the loss of stimulation, not being able to cum as you gaze up at him. He laughs in your face, holding your jaw so he can look into your glassy eyes.

“Did you really think I’d just let you cum?” he chuckles again, squishing your cheeks together to further humiliate you, “oh you silly, silly girl. No, you aren’t getting that privilege until you earn it. And my dear, I think you’ll have to do a lot more than apologising in such a pathetic way.”

With a grin that betrays the fact he’s having the time of his life, he forces his wet fingers into your mouth so you can lick them clean. Not being given much of a choice, you suck them and look into his eyes from under your eyelashes. Once he deems them suitably clean, he pulls them out and wipes them crudely on your breasts, before gripping your arm and moving you to the correct side of the sofa. He pushes you down unceremoniously, before settling behind you as you get up on your hands and knees, not before he strips you of your suit completely and placing it with his gloves.

Hearing the sound of his belt being taken off, your thoughts are clouded by lust as you arch your back a little. He seemingly appreciates the submissive gesture, slapping your ass as he unbuttons his trousers.

“So eager.” He teases, and you feel his cock against your ass as he speaks. “Beg for me.”

With a shiver, you know that he’s being serious so you start to beg softly, not really used to it. In response, he pushes your thighs together and pushes his cock between them. Moving, he fucks your thighs as you realise your begging isn’t enough, moaning softly as your pussy coats him with your wetness. Each time you feel him brush against your clit, your breath hitches and your words stutter. But still you persevere, begging like you never have before, for him to fuck you, for him to make you his, for him to own you.

That word choice seems to be the right one, as he groans before positioning at your entrance and pushing in smoothly. Crying out at the long awaited feeling, your head hits the sofa cushion underneath you as he bottoms out, before pulling out and thrusting deep once more.

“So tight, bet it’s been a while, hm? If ever.” He taunts, moaning softly as he pulls out and watches his own cock disappear again inside your heat.

“I’m not a virgin.” You mumble, realising he’s doing to you what you did to him earlier, as you defend yourself rather pitifully.

He instead laughs and sets a rhythmic pace, gripping your hips to aid his movements. “Well you certainly act like it, acting like you’ve never begged a day in your life. Hard to believe from someone so…fuck…so submissive.”

You want to protest, really you do, but his pace just has you reeling from the pleasure as you let yourself be used by him. Moaning into the cushion muffles you, so he grabs your hair and tugs hard.

“Let me hear you, go on. Tell me how good I am.” He demands, his ego seemingly never satiated as he fucks you.

“You’re so good…so good sir.” You ramble, feeling yourself fall into the submissive head-space as your eyes grow more and more unfocused.

“Say the full thing dear…fucking hell…go on.”

You know what he wants, and the part of your brain that was telling you to resist, the part trying to remind you that this is a man who has brutally tortured and murdered people, who has terrorized your city, who has put your adopted brothers in death traps, it falls silent with every thrust into your cunt. So you do.

“You’re so good Mister Nigma, sir.” You whimper, your voice barely recognisable to your own ears. He seemingly is pleased with your words, letting go of your hair and fucking you harder. The pace and intensity make him sweat, quickly and clumsily tugging his tie off and shrugging his suit jacket from his shoulders, still finding the compulsion to place them neatly on the back of the sofa with your bra and suit.

“There, so much better when you listen to me.” He grits out, clearly struggling to keep his own composure. He’d never admit it of course, but he’s thought about this scenario more times than he can remember. Laying in his bed, not being able to sleep with a million thoughts and ideas running through his brain, but the most pervasively annoying being thoughts of you. Your voice as you snap back at his taunts, your body and how it looks on his screens as he watches you beat the robots he’s painstakingly made, or the men he hired to protect his assets. All of it usually leading to his hand down his trousers, furiously pumping his length to the thought of putting you in your place, of showing you that he is the greatest mind Gotham has ever seen, and you’ll respect it, as he’d cum all over his hand and torso.

Now here you are, practically putty in his hand as he thrusts into your cunt like a toy. He’ll never grow tired of this memory, no matter how debilitating it’ll become when he’s forced to work, or worse, confront you again. He channels all those emotions into spanking your ass, the gasp like music to his ears as he rails you.

You’re so desperate for the orgasm he cruelly denied you that you sneak your hand down to rub your clit, which of course he notices. But he can’t seem to stop you, as he keeps thrusting over and over again.

“So good for me, so good for the Riddler.” He says, uncharacteristically breathy and lower pitched. You just nod in agreement, little moans escaping you. Feeling his orgasm barreling towards him, he grips at your neck once more, desperate to feel your life in his hands again.

“How about I let you cum this time, wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah? Say thank you.”

Your clit throbs at the permission, getting closer and closer to the edge again as you moan. “Thank you Mister Nigma, sir.”

With that title, he moans and rails you without mercy, clearly chasing his own pleasure. That doesn’t matter though, as you’re cumming around his cock regardless, making a mess of the ratty sofa beneath you. In a couple of thrusts, he buries himself inside you with a guttural groan, and you’re so fucked out you don’t even have the energy to lambaste him for cumming inside you. That’s a problem for tomorrow, as both of your heavy breathing's sync up.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and with a soft hiss, looking at your ruined hole with a small amount of pride in his chest. In all honesty, he didn’t expect to get this far with you, so now seemingly you’re both a little out of your elements. With an uncertain hand, he brushes the hair out of your face, looking at you curiously, as if to gage what you’re going to do.

“I still hate you, you know.” You mumble halfheartedly, moving a little to lay back on the sofa.

He chuckles, soft and light. “I know dear.”

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#the riddler #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #riddler x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler smut #edward nygma smut #dc fanfic #dc smut #dc x reader #the riddler smut #edward nigma #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma smut

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smok3r7 · 4 months

Text

They Always Come Back

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Explicit, 18+

Butterflies & Broken Glass

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: You and Aaron met in college, Criminology Major, funny enough. Throughout your five years at George Washington College, you and Hotchner had this on and off again relationship; it was all fun until you started to realize that you loved him. After graduation the two of you cut ties and left it as dumb college love, going your separate ways. After a decade you finally land your dream job, a seat at the BAU; however when you notice the name copied on the email, you can’t believe your eyes.

Chapter Summary: Moving on isn’t always the easiest and honestly takes a long time. But does it ever get better when old wounds get ripped open?

Word count: 3k

—

“So,” your mom starts “Are you ready to talk ‘bout, you know, it?”

The sound of her knife hitting the cutting board after slicing through a carrot pierces your ears. You don’t answer her, you continue to peel the batch of potatoes and carrots that sit in this metal strainer under a running tap. She also says nothing and continues to chop the vegetables you pass to her as if you’re on an assembly line.

You’re not sure if you are, but you’ve avoided it as long as you could. It’s weird that it feels like years ago and, simultaneously, feels like hours ago. But it’s been three months, going on four next week. The reality of the break up, however, hit you the second week you came home, and it was brutal.

And since then, you haven’t been the same.

Bella and Kelly have tried everything to help you; consistent phone calls from Kels since she’s still in DC, and Bella coming over whenever she can - which is all the time. But you just can’t shake the utter pain and heartbreak that pours out of your skin, and the only person who can help you through this, is your mom.

She’s been through most, if not all, of the hardest and toughest things you’ve been dealt with. She’s your real ride or die bestie. So even though you're not ready to discuss it, evidently you have to - for your own sake. If you’re going to move on with your life, move on from Aaron Hotchner, you have to talk about it.

“Not much to talk about, really.” You lie one more time. You’re not sure why you do - you chalk it up to your subconscious mind not being ready to properly handle this or that your mom will drop it.

The sound of your moms chopping stops and you hear her sigh. She’s not gonna leave it alone. The cold water flows through your fingers, causing them to go numb and start to sting when there are no vegetables left to rinse. So you know you’re stuck listening to what she has to say, so you figure you might as well just take it.

“Well, I’m tired of you sittin’ on your ass ‘n mopin’ around all fuckin’ day for the past few months. That’s not the daughter I raised.” By the loudness of her words you can tell she’s now facing you, but you’re too afraid to turn around. Too embarrassed. Too ashamed of yourself.

She barks your name and orders you to turn the water off and look at her, which you do, but not before you grab a sheet of paper towel to dry your stinging hands. You do this very slowly, to the point where you feel like it’s in slow motion. You know she’s not going to do anything but just try to understand where your head is at, and maybe scold you just a bit because of your actions - or lack of, for that matter - but you know she means well and she just wants to make sure her little girl is okay.

Looking into her eyes, you break. The bubble in your throat finally bursts. As you lunge forward, your moms arms open and welcome you with love and affection as she wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders.

You cry and cry, until no tears are left.

—

Your senses are overwhelmed; the smells of plants and people from the park overpower you, the sight of the masses of people panics you just a little, and the sound of music playing in one ear and screams of small children on the playground in the other keeps you alert. Your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest, while your lungs work overtime to keep you going - the cool morning weather making it harder to catch your breath.

The white gazebo is now within sight as you jog past the large playground that’s packed with children of all ages with their families. Saturdays during the summer are the busiest days at Richmond park, so you always take that into account when you go on your daily run.

But this morning is different. Instead of going to your usual civil court office, like you have for the past eleven years, you’re waiting on an important email from Erin Strauss. The section chief of the BAU in Quantico, the very job you’ve been working so hard for. Your second interview was three days ago and it went pretty well considering how judgmental and difficult Strauss was.

You honestly weren’t sure if you were going to get the job because Strauss was picking apart every tiny thing about you; where and how you grew up, what college you attended, what’s so important about joining the BAU, and whether you can hold your own when it comes to a career with something like the FBI. You felt like you were being stabbed with each one of her questions, but you figured that she’s just like that, with a job requiring a brutal sort of honesty.

Catching your breath, you raise your arms above your head and fold them over so the air can flow freely through your body. Standing on the steps of the gazebo, you step in a small circle to get a bearing on your surroundings, making sure to note anything that seems out of the ordinary. Too many women have been getting assaulted or mugged recently, so you’re always scanning your environment. To add another element of security, you own a black 9mm, which is currently in your car in the parking lot just a few feet away. You have your carry permit, but it doesn’t do much good when you’re in leggings and a sports bra.

Your mom was extremely concerned about you living by yourself and forty-five miles away from her, so she and Anthony convinced you to go to the gun range to become familiar. Then, after about four months of that, you decided you felt comfortable and educated enough to own a gun, for your safety.

While doing one last spin, you lower your arms and reach for your phone in your side pocket. Your breathing is now steady and regulated, so you can focus more on yourself and your surroundings.

Pausing your music and taking out your one earbud, you notice an email from Strauss and you instantly feel proud. You really did it, you really made it to your dream job. It felt almost impossible; after eleven years, you were about to give up hope about this job. But your inner child put up a huge fight against it and ultimately won. There was no way in hell that you would give up on this dream of yours. It was going to happen one way or another.

You open the email as you start walking to your car, but before you can read past the names copied in the email, you freeze.

Your stomach drops to the cement below your sneakers, your heart rate increases rapidly, and your mind somehow is silent but screaming at the same time. There’s no way this is possible, you never thought this would happen.

Hotchner, Aaron

—

“You haven’t even seen him since graduation right?”

“Kels…yes! I never thought I’d ever see him again, let alone have to work with him, under him even!”

“Under him, hehe,” Bella murmurs to herself into her glass of wine as she takes a sip.

You glance to your right and she diverts her eyes to her feet, away from your judgy eyes.

Immediately after you received the email and got back into your car to head back to your house, you called the girls over for a wine and bitch night. Something the three of you started once Kelly ended things with Jason six years ago and moved five minutes away from you and Bella, who lives only four houses apart.

Kelly has her own law firm and has done extremely well for herself. However, you do feel bad about how Jason and her ended things. Long story short, she caught him bringing random women back to their home constantly. But what makes it even worse is they have a seven year old daughter. A newborn at the time she kicked him out and never wanted to see him again, Jason hasn’t seen his daughter since then either.

You have no idea how Kelly is still able to be this bubbly person, but she is. You and Bella help Kelly whenever she needs it, especially when it comes to her daughter Lilly; babysitting, picking up or dropping off from school, picking up dinner some nights, and anything else.

You’ll be damned if anything else happens to Kelly and Lilly, they are least deserving of any treatment like that from Jason.

“So, have you replied to her email?” Bella questions as she takes a bite of stringy pizza, wiping the corners of her mouth after.

“She told me I didn’t have to. Just to make sure I read it before I go in on Wednesday, which I thought was a weird day to start but what do I know?”

“So, like… how are you feelin’ about all this?” Bella chimes in again, but with a tone that lets you know she is trying to be sincere.

Your right hand instinctively raises to your necklace and you start to fidget with it … the heart necklace from Aaron. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. You really don’t know how to feel about this, especially when you erased him from your memory almost completely so you could figure out how to move on.

After so long, the thought of Aaron became less and less, even though you still wear the one piece of jewelry from him. It’s been the one thing that you haven’t been able to let go of and you haven’t had a reason to understand why, but now it almost seems like this was meant to happen. The universe never wanted you to forget about him, but you also wonder if he’s ever stopped thinking about you.

He had to have noticed your name, just like you did his. But what does that mean? You wonder if he had any say in hiring you or if this is all Strauss’s work, because those two things have very different meanings behind them and those two people have very different motives.

“Do you think you’ll be okay?” Bella sits up and rests her hand on your bare thigh, shaking you back to reality.

You raise your eyes to her and give the best fake smile you can show and lightly nod your head, I’m gonna try.

—

You have an excellent first day baby, call me when you’re home. Love you!

Standing in the elevator, you read your moms text message with a warm smile. You didn't tell her about Aaron being your boss, that’ll be a deep conversation for later.

Thank you, love you mama!

The elevator dings, stops and the metal door slides open before a gorgeous, black haired woman walks in, and you both give a slight smile to each other as you move to give her some room. She goes to press the number six, for the BAU, but she notices you already have it pressed.

“Oh, you must be the new girl that Hotch was telling everyone about,” she confidently tells you. “Emily Prentiss.” She reaches her hand out, which you confidently take and introduce yourself to her.

So he does remember me…what did he tell them?

“Welcome to the world of horrible things people are capable of, you’ll come to learn a lot!” She shakes her head slightly, “But it seems like you can stomach it, I mean, you made it into the BAU which is huge in itself.”

The same time you chuckle, the metal doors open again and you’re met with a small hallway with glass doors that have the Seal of the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s logo on them. It’s busy with agents walking from one hallway to the other, all on a mission (or at least that’s what it looks like). You can finally release that breath that’s been sitting in your chest since you woke up this morning.

“Well, let’s go introduce you to the team,” Emily announces as she slightly nudges your lower back, “I got you, girl, don’t worry.”

Turning your body to the side so she can lead the way, you smile, “Thank you.”

Now, past the glass doors, you’re met with an open layout office with desks together to make squares. Emily walks past the first couple and heads to the next set, where a group of four gather around one’s desk. Your nerves build just a little bit, but you shove them down for your first impressions. You’re not going to allow Aaron the satisfaction of knowing he’s messing with your head.

“Listen up, kids!” Emily announces, catching everyone’s attention but you see how all their eyes move to you and then back to Emily. She steps to the side, almost showcasing you off to them as she tells them your name and that you’re officially joining the team.

With your leather brown purse hanging from your shoulder, a large confident smile comes across your face as you wave to them with your right hand, hi guys!

“I was just asking J.J when you were coming in, I’m Penelope Garcia!” This vibrant colored blonde reaches her bejeweled wrist out to greet you, which you happily take.

“My official first day!” You cheer, “So excited to be a part of your team!”

Over the next ten minutes you learn a whole lot about the team. And you overall, love them all already. They’re all just full of character and personality, which you’re always looking for in a work environment.

J.J, the original liaison turned official Supervisory Special Agent and mom of two healthy boys. Spencer Reid, the impossibly smart guy, you have no clue that anyone could be as smart as him. Derek Morgan, the player and muscle of the team for sure, this man is flirtatious but in a fun way - he’s not rude or arrogant in the slightest. David Rossi, one of the original FBI agents and the old Italian man that reminds you a lot of what your mom described of her grandfather. Penelope Garcia, the technical genius and the brightest and most animated woman you have ever seen. Emily Prentiss, the pure badass and smartass of the team, is almost a mixture of the team all around.

Jokes and history are being shared amongst everyone, but there’s a huge elephant in the room. Even with the laughs from the team, the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. Where is he?

“Dad’s here!”

You hear Derek whisper, trying to not make a scene…which doesn’t work because everyone turns their head. Everyone except you. You’re caught staring at J.J, who sits in her office chair with her blonde eyebrows raised, and her lips purse as she slowly spins to face her desk.

Morning.

There it is. The voice you’ve ached to be able to hear again, but will deny if ever asked. From the one and only man you’ve ever longed for and have loved since you met him over a lifetime ago. The man you’ve lost sleep over from just wishing you could redo it all over so you and him didn’t go separate ways. The voice that distracts you from work when you’re alone in your office and you’re not sure why. The memories of you and him on date nights flourish your brain when you’re with friends, even though you thought you and him were done completely. The voice you thought you had erased from your memory, but just like that, the memories and feelings come right back like you’re in college again.

Aaron.

Just like that, he stops dead in his tracks. His back now to you about a desk away, his broad shoulders tense under his black suit. You watch the way his back stiffens and he takes a deep breath in and stands for a moment, but he doesn’t turn around. You’re not sure why you said his name just now, it’s almost scary how natural his name spewed out of your mouth. There was just no way that you couldn’t not say anything to him right now, it just didn’t seem right.

My office is all he says with the most monotone voice you have ever heard from him. You’re almost speechless, almost. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you push your tongue into the side of your left cheek - what in the fuck? If he’s going to make this into a thing that it doesn’t need to be, you’re going to lose your shit because you know he can be an adult when it’s needed.

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise…” Derek mumbles with a smile that goes from ear to ear. Garcia hits his arm and tells him to shut up, but you can’t help but laugh at him.

“Little do you know, pretty boy.” You crack back at him with a wink as you start your way towards the small set of steps that lead to his office. A small giggle fest starts behind you and you can’t help but feel incredible, you’re fitting in so well already and you’re honestly not even worried about what Aaron will do or say.

You already know this job is going to be tough.

But so worth it.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

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remuslupinbutcooler · 1 year

Text

Puppy Love…

Chapter 3

You now sat uncomfortably, waiting for Star. The Boys throwing pros and cons about waiting up for her and Michael.

David’s eyes became heavy and tired. He offered you a room , “just to relax in until she came back “. He’d also offered you a drink, “ just take a sip and relax Doll.”

You took it , thankfully. David’s fingers sat resting just below your chin, holding it almost. The surrounding area sat in silence, watching and waiting. The bottle soon hit your lips, pouring into your mouth and splashing down your throat.The metallic sweetness causing you to gasp slightly. It was cold and slightly refreshing.

“Atta girl.”

“Good girl”

“You’re doing so well baby”

“Just like that, don’t you feel better now?”

The room echoed with praise, this alone relaxed you . David’s hand soon held onto your face, his eyes meeting with yours. The presence of another one of the boys soon flooded your scenes. Dwayne’s hand soon tangled its self in your hair, his lips nuzzling against your throat. Usually if this happened you would’ve ran but not now, not with the boys . You were safe.

The fun soon ended when Star walked in. The atmosphere becoming tense and uncomfortable. Along with the headache that had randomly appeared.

“David .What did you do?” Worry bubbled at her throat, her arms soon pulling you into her. Her hands wailing about , checking for things .

“What do you think I did Star?” He laughed before walking away, The boys following . Each showing some sort of emotion before leaving .

“S-star…” Your senses flooded with all sorts of smells and sounds.

“Come on…” She guided you to a room.

The room stood at a slant, the left side longer than the right side. The opening to it stood in the middle .Almost like some sort of attic, you had to access it through stars . Which had become difficult for you right about now since your senses had heightened and you had suddenly forgot how to walk. The bed sat at the left side , cloth hung from the ceiling. Protecting the frame and mattress, almost like a canopy bed. A dark blue canopy bed. Your eyes darted straight towards . Star helped you get settled before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moonlight hit your face, practically causing you to sit up. Hunger poking at you, begging you to feed. It was new found hunger, the time of hunger were your body thinks it’s going to die without food.

You soon found your way to The group again. Star was shouting about something while David just laughed, then the room went silent. Each members eyes locking onto you.

“Look! Look at herDavid! Look-“ Star was cut off before she could even get her point across. Her little face dropping from angry to upset , fragile and almost sad.

“Save it Star. Nothing you can do.” David rolled his eyes before beckoning you towards him, your body commanded before your head could even register. “I’ll explain later ,hm?” He gaze now on you, his hand resting on the side of your face.

“How are you feeling? Are you hungry? Tired?” Markos face drown in worry, his teeth digging into his thumb causing small droplets of crimson to fall from it.

“I’m…I’m..I’m.um..” You couldn’t think at all right now, hunger clouding your mind and causing your thoughts to push out. “Hungry..” Your nose lifted itself into the air, sniffing out something sweet in the air.

“You will be Doll..” David’s hand soon threw itself into your hair , scratching your head slightly. “ How about we go out and I’ll explain everything hm?”

“No David. Explain to her now. Save her the trouble of crying in public.Don’t you dare humiliate her.” Dwayne’s voice seemed filled with anger, his eyes shadowed and dark, glaring at David. He seemed different from last night .

“Fine.”

“Thank fuck for that. I don’t wanna see my…I mean our…fuck I mean her..cry..” Paul stumbled over his words, probably too high to communicate.

“Sit. You’re gonna wanna sit . “ Marko jumped from his spot on the couch, his hands pushing you next to Paul, who’s hand was now resting on your back. He made small movements around your back, relaxing you slightly.

David rolled his eyes at the “dramatic “ and “frantic “ nature of his brothers.

“Party all night and sleep all day remember? “

You nodded slightly. Still unaware.

“You asked Star if we were vampires remember?” David laughed before turning away.

You mumbled a small yes before looking at the boys. Their eyes lay on the floor, avoiding you almost. Paul’s back rub stopped. Their limbs frozen.

You soon looked back up, your eyes locked with a golden eyed, fang flared, angry vampire type creature. It took a minute before you realised it was David staring back. His soft eyes now gold and angry, his usual smirk now replaced with an open mouth covered in razor sharp fangs pooling with drool. He shook his head before turning back to his softer form.

“You’re actually vampires.” You gasped before looking around, your eyes meeting with Stars.

“Y/N don’t-“

“Don’t what? Freak the fuck out ? Because IM FREAKING THE FUCK OUT HERE STAR.”

“David turned you. I know you’re already freaking out but-“

You turned to face David, the palm of your hand hitting his face. Gasps emerging from the cave, his eyes shone with gold before turning back to their usual Heterochromia.

“I deserve that Doll..” His hand grasped yours , pulling you closer. “But we deserve you and we don’t want you to leave.”

#the lost boys #poly lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys x reader #tlb #david tlb #paul the lost boys #dwayne tlb #paul tlb #marko tlb

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cerealboxlore · 4 months

Note

Can I ask about Brace for Impact? College is killing me too!

Definitely! Sorry for replying to this ask so late, I had to finish an assignment that ended up taking way too long! (why did I take a 3-week class...aaaaaa)

Brace for Impact is the first Billy Batson fic idea I ever had! It's nearly done and just sitting in a google doc of mine, gathering dust for a long while now, but it's time I head back to it.

The idea is about Billy getting braces, and how they impact his personal and superhero life. After being taken in and adopted by the Bromfield family, Billy would likely get taken to doctor appointments to catch up on his medical history and vaccines, so he can have good health after being without a proper doctor/check-up for so long. This would naturally include Billy's first trip to the dentist in years. Fun!

Not for Billy though. After getting cavities and root canals dealt with, he'd be informed by the dentist of his need for braces; something he wasn't too excited for. Mary laughed until she was also told she needed braces.

Now having metal in his mouth, being a part of a new family, and going to a new school, Billy has some trouble settling into his new home life. He's glad he's safe and sound now with a family who cares about him, but it's going to take some getting used to. He isn't used to being cared for.

This would also affect his transformation as Captain Marvel, as he'd think he'd lose them with the power of the living lightning, but to his surprise as the lightning strikes him--jolts of static electricity shock his teeth with a zap! And he opens his eyes as Captain Marvel, who now has braces, too... his days just get worse in his opinion, haha!

It was supposed to be a comedic one-shot idea about the agony of braces as a kid, but it spiraled into comedy with angst sprinkled into it. I also really wanted to write about Captain Marvel not smiling and the people of Fawcett and his superhero friends noticing and wanting to know why. Did something happen to their happy, bubbly friend? Is he in a rare bad mood? Why isn't he talking?? Who do they have to beat up?! But it's just because he's embarrassed at having braces in his Captain Marvel form, too. I should work more on this one.

#thank you for the ask!#It's been so long since i worked on this fic #life keeps getting in the way so i put it in storage #Billy getting braces is a neat thing to write about #Braces are a normal thing for a kid to experience but Billy doesn't think of himself as a normal kid anymore #He doesn't even see himself as a kid at all due to his responsibilities #braces really bring him back to reality #my wips #billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #writing

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ghoulishlygrey · 2 months

Text

Hammer Meets Steel Chapter Two

Chapter Two!

Find chapter one here <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Dammon x fem!reader

18+ Explicit, MDNI

Tags: semi-public sex, riding, fighter tav, human tav

Read it on ao3

Enjoy!

Word count: 4950

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You would not see Dammon again for some time, and the next time you did would be under much darker circumstances.

The Shadow Curse had these lands in a cold grip, securely keeping most people from even considering stepping on the premises. But you and the refugees were desperate and that is what brought your paths back together as Jaheira’s vines crept away from your body. You were covered in grime and goblin gore after joining the Harpers in a fight against the mad drider who was leading you to the towers. The fight cost you an easy way into Moonrise but it also gained you new allies. And finally, it gave you an answer to a very uneasy question that had been bubbling in your mind these past few days; would you ever see Dammon again?

“Come, join me inside for a drink.” Jaheira says, motioning over her shoulder to the inn on the other side of the courtyard.

“Of course,I just-” You say, head turning towards the sound of hammer meeting steel on the other side of the encampment. After days of being apart, you spot him, hammering away at a slab of metal on his makeshift forge. He hadn’t noticed you yet, mind clearly occupied as he threw himself into his work.

“I just have some people to see first, if that’s alright.” You finish, turning back to Jaheira and crossing your arms over your chestplate.

“Ah, of course.” She says, nodding and turning away from you . “Find me when you’re done.”

“I will!” You call after her before turning towards your companions, all of which were eyeing you oddly.

“What?” You say, a blush creeping its way up your face at the notion of being caught.

“Who do you have to see?” Gale says, genuinely clueless. A couple of your companions had caught onto what happened after seeing a disheveled Dammon and you stumbling back into camp when everyone was leaving and the sun was beginning to paint the sky. Gale was not one of them.

“I think I know who.” Astarion says coldly, though a mischievous twinkle in his eye betrayed him.

“As do I.” Shadowheart says, being the first one to approach you about that night. You had told her the truth when asked about it, the two of you had become close and it didn’t feel right lying about it. Had you known she would tease you about it whatever chance she got in the days that followed, maybe you wouldn’t have.

“Just-” You start, words failing you and you pinch the bridge of your nose in defeat.

“I’m just gonna go talk to some people. You guys should go in without me.” You finish, avoiding eye contact.

“If you insist.” Gale says, still confused but nonetheless walking past you and towards the main inn.

Astarion follows, giving you a smirk as he passes you. That leaves you with Shadowheart, who just takes your hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Do have fun.” She says, before letting you go and joining the other two. You take a deep breath, having friends was a hassle.

You start to make your way towards him, sidestepping any busy Harper that almost bumps into you. Some of them said “excuse me” others just gave you the side-eye, clearly not yet trusting you. Hero of The Grove or not.

Finally you make it to the little barn that Dammon had set up shop. He still hadn’t seen you, clearly taken with whatever project he was now busying himself with. He looked good, despite everything. Your heart leapt in your chest at the sight of him, even just hours in the Shadowfell made you crave the comfort of him.

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door frame and leaning against it. The thought occurs to you too late; maybe you should’ve cleaned up before you approached him. But when he looks at you, it’s like he doesn’t notice your current state. His face lights up with recognition then a smile cracks his lips so wide, you’re taken aback.

He says your name with the most adoration you’ve ever heard, stepping forward cautiously, as if not knowing if giving you a hug would be appropriate or not. You make that decision for him, carefully wrapping your armored arms around his middle, cheek resting against his rising and falling chest. He reciprocates, wrapping two strong arms around you in turn.

“My, aren’t you a mess.” He teases, leaning back to take in the state of you. You were thankful he was wearing his apron, otherwise you would’ve gotten his nice tunic all smeared with goblin and drider blood.

You laugh, taking a second to smooth down your hair, you assumed it was probably wild right about now. He joins you, gently smoothing over your scalp with his large hands.

“Still beautiful.” He murmurs, eyes traveling over your face. Finally, he meets your eyes and there’s a moment of silence; just the two of you looking at each other. Slowly, you inch your way towards his face, he smirks and does the same. Your hands skate up his chest, grabbing his collar and pulling him ever closer, so close your lips brush against each other’s just before--

“Ahem.” A little noise comes from the doorway and you’re both scrambling to step away from each other and returning your hands to your sides. It’s one of the Harpers, standing there awkwardly with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t recognize him, he wasn’t one in the group that you’d fought with. He was a human, pretty tall with brown eyes and hair to match. Handsome, but unremarkable.

“I just wanted to come check on my bow, I can come back if it’s not ready.” He eventually says, when it’s clear neither you or Dammon were going to speak first.

Dammon springs into step, ducking behind his forge and returning with a pristine looking bow, one that looked like it had never seen combat.

“Well, would ya look at that?” The man says, taking the bow when Dammon offers it, “Looks brand new, doesn’t it?”

He shows it off to you, hand running along the string.

“Very impressive.” You nod, mostly wanting this dude to get lost so you can pick up where you left off with Dammon.

“You should’ve seen it before! ‘Twas broken nearly in half when I gave it to ‘im! Now look at it!” He beams at the bow in his hands before continuing,

“It’s my lucky bow, see. Never lost a fight with ‘er at my side.” He suddenly eyes you, up and down. It’s a gesture that leaves you with a chill shooting down your spine. Surely he wouldn’t dare hit on you, for the Gods’ sake, you were literally just caught kissing Dammon.

“Looks like you’ve never lost a fight either,” He says with a smirk, holding out a hand for you to take, “Name’s Brendon, and you must be the Hero of The Grove everyone’s talking about. It’s a pleasure.”

See, normally that sentence would be perfectly normal, kind even. But the way he said it just made you want to call him a creep and knee him in the balls. Not to mention the way he was looking at you. You turned to Dammon and could immediately tell he clocked it too. He was angry, arms crossed, chest puffed up and his hands were balled into fists. You turn back to Brendon and take his hand, putting on your best polite face. Even if you did want to tell him to get lost, his people were currently hosting you and the tieflings. You couldn’t risk pissing the wrong person off.

You give him your name and try to retract your hand but he's folded his other one on top of yours.

“What a lovely name.” He says, “I bet you look good out of that armor.”

Before you can say anything, Dammon’s next to you, snatching your hand away from this Brendon guy and holding it in his own.

“She looks perfectly fine in the armor, fool. Now, I fixed the damned bow, now kindly leave my forge.” He snaps, squeezing your hand.

“Hells, you’re possessive. Don’t blame me for wanting a turn on that ride.” He gestures to you like you’re some sort of prize pony.

“Not in a million years.” You scoff, rolling your eyes and planting your free hand on your hip.

“Oh, so you’d take a chance on a bloody tiefling and not me? That’s pathetic.” Now he’s the one who’s scoffing and you’re just boiling.

“Wow, not only a creep but a racist, too? I’m sure Jaheira would love to hear that one of her Harpers had such morals.” You threaten, more wanting him to leave you alone than anything else.

He blanches, falling for it. “Just forget I said anything, hero.” he spits that last word before turning on his heels and fleeing the forge.

You huff a sigh of relief before beginning to turn towards Dammon,

“Now, where were w-” but before you can finish your sentence, you’re taken aback by the state of him. He’s furious, but more than that he looks defeated.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, heart sinking to your stomach when he lets your hand go and turns away from you.

“People are just going to keep making comments like that. Why’s someone like you with a…” He pauses, gaze slipping from yours, “... blacksmith like me.”

Your heart breaks at his insinuation. You don’t have to ask what he means, because you know. He thinks he isn’t good enough for you, and what’s more, this clearly isn’t the first time he’s having those thoughts.

“Dammon,” You shuck off your gloves before gently grabbing his face and making him look at you.

“You’re the sword I protect myself with, and the man I yearn for in every waking moment, just to see you again in my dreams. I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone in my life then when I saw you today. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks, you’re enough for me… am I enough for you?”

He gathers your hands from his face and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently.

He says your name carefully, “You’re everything to me. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face. That night we shared together meant more to me than you could ever know.”

“Show me,” you hear yourself saying, almost a whisper, “Show me how much it meant to you.”

He takes a second, just looking at your face before he takes it in his hands and brings your lips to his.

The kiss is automatically hungry, taking everything you could give him with his lips alone.

His tongue parts your lips and explores your mouth gently, licking along your teeth and tangling with your own tongue.

His hands migrate from your face and down to your waist, holding you delicately, as if he could break you. He moves his mouth from yours, leaving you gasping for air as he makes his way down the column of your throat, kissing along your pulse point. His hands go to the buckles of your armor around your shoulders and…

…and someone drops something outside, making you suddenly aware that anyone could walk by and spot the two of you. Not that you were ashamed, it would just be… awkward. To say the least.

“Dammon,” You start, grabbing his face and leading him away from your neck.

“What? Is something wrong?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

“No nothing’s wrong, we are just very much in public and anyone walking by could see us.” You smile at him, connecting your lips for a brief moment before pulling away completely.

“But you’re right, I should get out of this armor. Jaheira wants me to have a drink with her.” You say, resuming where he left off and unbuckling your shoulder buckles.

He goes to your back, carefully helping you unbuckle the rest of your armor until it’s a pile in the corner of his workshop. You’re left in your civilian clothes, a simple tunic and pants.

“You can keep it here until you need it.” He says, hands resting on your hips. You turn in his grip, planting your own hands on his chest.

“How kind.” You tease, planting a kiss to his nose before turning and stepping away from him.

“Is there,” You continue, holding your arms in a self-hugging gesture, “Anywhere we could, I dunno, be alone?”

“I mean there’s a beach, down and under the inn but it’s not protected by the spell.” He says, hands going to his own hips.

“Well, we could bring a torch, or three.” You smile at him, a beach without a nautiloid ship crash scene? Count you in. Even if it was in this ghastly cursed place.

“I’ll meet you down there.” He says, “Wouldn’t want to keep Jaheira waiting for too long.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You wave, turning to leave the makeshift forge. He catches your wrist before you can fully leave and he’s pulling you into the shadows.

“Dammon! Wha-?” But before you can finish your sentence his lips are on yours, passionate and sweet.

You go to kiss him back but he’s gone as soon as he comes, hammering away at the slab of metal on his forge.

“Wh-” You start, blinking and confused at what just happened.

“Go.” He chuckles, watching you with an amused smile.

You leave without another word, walking back to the main inn with a pink dusting over your nose and cheeks.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you approach the beach, you can see Dammon waiting, bottle in hand and a blanket on the sand. He had ditched his apron, left only in his laid back civilian clothes. Three torches are posted in the ground around the blanket, securely keeping out any stray shadows and foes. Jaheira had tasked you with talking to the very cleric who made the protection spell, but you decided to go to Dammon first, not wishing to keep him waiting any longer.

“This feels familiar.” You say, as you approach, motioning to the blanket on the ground. The night you two had shared still fresh in your mind, lots had happened in the time from then and now. You couldn’t wait to tell him all about it.

“I thought it was better than just sitting on the sand.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

“Much better.” You conclude, walking over through said sand to get to him.

“I uh, got this.” Dammon holds up the ale, gaze shifting awkwardly between you and the ground.

“Snagged it before Rolan could drink it all.” He adds, eyes becoming sad for his fellow tiefling.

You go to him, your expression matching his.

“I’ll get them back.” You say, taking his hands in yours, “I promise.”

“If anyone could, it’s you.” He says, lifting your knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them.

“Your confidence is appreciated.” You say, watching as he kisses your hands. You couldn’t lie, you were feeling a little nervous about what was to come. You had never faced a foe such as Ketheric Thorm, not even close. His immortality was enough to put you on edge, the prospect of finding his weakness was staggering to you; you weren’t even sure where to start.

“Hey,” His voice pulls you from your head and into his eyes, worried as they gaze upon you.

“Where’d you go?” He asks, hands still holding yours as he runs his thumb over your fingers.

“Just thinking about what’s to come.” You admit, honestly.

“Mmmm,” He hums, thoughtfully, dropping your hands in order to wrap his arms around you. His chin rests on your head and you return in kind, your arms wrapping around his waist.

“Just be here with me tonight, everything else can wait.” He says into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp.

You nod, more than willing to lose yourself in him tonight. The distraction was welcome.

He pulls away from you, leading you to the blanket by your hand. You follow happily, allowing him to lead you to the little safe haven he had created for you.

“So,” He sits down, popping the cork on his bottle of ale, “What’ve you been up to since the last time I saw you?”

Oh, where to start? You had done so much since you’d last seen him.

“Oh! Remember Auntie Ethel?” You say, hugging your knees to your chest and taking the bottle when he offers it to you.

“The older woman selling ‘potions and lotions’ at the grove? Rings a bell, why?”

“Turns out she’s a hag, had a girl named Mayrina in her clutches because she wanted her baby. Gods know what she wanted with it.” You say, taking your first swig, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Wow, I never would’ve known, she always seemed so nice.” He says, leaning back on his palms.

“That’s how they get you.” You chuckle, taking a gentle jab at his abdomen. He jerks forward, laughing as he swats you away. “So you took her down? How’d that go?” He asks, gently taking the bottle from you before taking a drink.

“It was annoying, she kept casting illusions. Tried to kill Mayrina too by setting her cage on fire, but Shadowheart dealt with that.” You explain.

“I won’t pretend to know anything about illusion magic but it sounds like she was being difficult.” He says, eyes scanning the waterline before landing on you.

“You could say that. When we were about to beat her, she gave us an offer. A tempting one.”

“Did you take it?” He asks.

“Hells no. She was too dangerous to keep alive. I couldn’t risk her hurting more innocent people just for more strength or wisdom.”

“Sounds like you.” He says, taking another swig before handing the bottle back to you. You take it, taking another drink before setting upright in the sand. The alcohol was making you warm, dusting your face and shoulders in a pink glow.

“Yeah well, I can’t let innocents suffer. No matter how hard Astarion tries to make me.” You say, turning towards Dammon.

“Ah yes, he’s the pale elf in your group? The one with the white hair?” He asks.

“That’s the one. He’s a bit of a trouble maker but he has his charms.” You admit, thinking of all the times he had disapproved of your heroic actions.

“Not too charming I hope.” He says, giving you a cheeky look.

“No, not too charming.” You move your hand to go over his, thumb rubbing his knuckles gently.

“So, what other adventures have you been on?” He asks, eyes drifting to your connected hands before smiling.

You proceed to tell him everything, from harpies to The Underdark, you spill it all. He nods along the whole way, eyes wide at the tales you spun. He would only stop you to ask questions in awe, he was truly taken aback by your bravery and spirit, a fact that made your skin tingle and thighs rub together.

“That is… quite the tale of adventure.” He says, gaze shifting from you to the stagnant ocean. “I don’t know how you do it.” He says eventually, still staring at the non-existent waves.

“Do what?” You ask, looking at him.

“All that… bravery stuff. I can craft a damn good sword but never was the type to learn how to swing one.” He says, finally looking back at you.

“Well, it’s not for everybody.” You say, matter-of-factly.

“I just don’t know how you’re not scared all the time.”

“You don’t think I get scared? I’m terrified of this whole thing. The Absolute, Ketheric Thorm, all of it.” You admit, honestly. Your fingers move to pick at the skin of your thumb.

“Are you?” He asks, hand coming over yours to still your bad habit. “I would’ve never guessed. You have a confidence about you that’s so mesmerizing.”

“It’s all a show,” You say, rather quietly, “I feel like I have to be the backbone of the group, as their leader.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” He says, eyes finding yours, “You can be honest.”

You take a deep breath, “The truth is that I have no idea how I’m going to pull all of this off. This threat is bigger than anything I’ve ever faced.”

He puts his arm around you, squeezing gently.

“And I’m so tired.” Your eyes start to water, and you try to blink it away but a tear pops out and rolls down your cheek. “So, so tired. I’m tired of fighting and I want to stop but I know I can’t because everyone’s counting on me. But in reality, I never asked for any of this.”

He nods at what you’re saying, taking in your confession.

“That’s realistic and valid.” He says eventually, the arm around you rubbing your opposite shoulder.

“You’re feeling what anyone else would feel in your shoes.” He adds, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I suppose.” You say, leaning into his touch.

“I mean it! If someone wasn’t nervous for what’s to come I’d say they’re insane.”

“That’s probably true.” You admit.

“It’s very true.” He smiles down at you, “Trust me on that one.”

“Fine.” You say, a little smile of your own making its way onto your face. You sniffle, he takes a hand to wipe your tear stained cheek.

Your eyes meet and his hand hovers over your face, he caresses your cheek gently. His eyes glance down at your lips and he hesitates.

“Go ahead.” You whisper.

“Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, crashing into your lips with a force that takes you by surprise.

Your tongue swipes the seam of his lips and he’s pulling you onto his lap and allowing access to his mouth.

The kiss is passionate, sloppy and open-mouthed. It’s more tongue than anything else and you moan into it, feeling the tent he’s pitched in his pants against your clothed core.

You pull back, meeting his eyes to find his pupils blown wide in lust. His eyes are so beautiful, an electric blue with a ring of orange around said pupils. Fire and water, gorgeous and dangerous.

“People will hear us.” He states, grabbing your hips nonetheless and grinding his pelvis upwards to meet yours.

This was true, even now you could hear the murmurs of conversation not too far away, anyone taking a stroll down the dock or looking over the beach from one of the balconies would be able to see and hear anything you two were up to. The mischievous twinkle in your eye signifies the reality of the situation; you don’t care.

“We’ll just be really really quiet.” You say, head dipping to kiss along the column of his throat.

“Are you capable of that? Judging by our last trist, ‘quiet’ doesn’t seem like a word in your vocabulary.” He teases, referencing to the almost rhythmic chanting of praises, his name, and just downright lewd moaning you pulled the last and first time the two of you were intimate.

You nip his neck at that, before immediately smoothing over it with your tongue.

“For your information I can be very quiet. It’s a useful skill when you’re pickpocketing somebody.” You joke, pulling away from his neck to look him in the eye.

“A sneaky thief are you?” He asks, also joking.

“How else do you think I can afford your armor?” You say, grinding down on him once more.

“Ah~! My wares a-aren’t that expensive.” The grip on your hips tightened, he was becoming more and more undone just by this premature dry-humping. You ached to take him out of his pants and engulf him with your cunt.

“Hopefully you’d be accepting of other means of compensation?” You ask, hands sliding down his chest and to the ties of his trousers.

“Most definitely.” He replies, eyes trained on the way your hands gently tug his pants down just enough to free his cock. You spit on your hand, giving it a few experimental strokes, eyes gauging his reaction. When you’re met with soft moans and his eyes fluttering shut, you know you’re doing something right. Your finger goes to the head, spreading the precum around the tip before continuing the languid strokes down his shaft.

Your hands are soft as they rub him, the feeling so heavenly that Dammon has to cover his mouth with a hand to quiet his growing in volume moans.

After a few moments of this attention, his hand comes over yours to still your motions.

“No good?” You ask, taking your hand away.

“Too good. Won’t last long if you keep going like that.” He says, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

You nod before standing up, he leans back on his palms to watch you. You kick the boots from your feet before you slowly, painfully slow if you asked Dammon, slide your own trousers down your legs. Next to go is your underwear, already soaked from the grinding you were pulling off earlier.

You climb back on top, wasting no time as you slowly sink town on his cock, inch by glorious inch.

The sounds from both your mouths are downright lewd until finally, you bottomed out, pelvis meeting pelvis.

You took the moment it took to adjust to him by connecting your lips once again. It’s all teeth clanking and tongues meeting in the middle as you slowly rise, his cock almost falling out of you before you sink down again. You swallow his grunt and do your best to choke back your own moan, the promise to keep silent still present in the back of your mind. Apparently you aren’t doing a very good job as his hand comes over your mouth to silence your cries and moans.

Before long he’s thrusting upwards to keep pace with you, and you can feel your orgasm building on the horizon. A few more rolls of the hips and you’re so close, the tears in your eyes are dangerously close to spilling and his name is hot on your tongue.

“Dammon, I-I’m gonna cum.” You gasp against his hand, just audible enough for him to catch it.

“Do it, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

His fingers come down to circle your clit, flinging you towards your finish at an accelerated pace.

You come with a cry, and it was right about then you were glad to have his hand over your mouth. Without its muffling effect, you were sure somebody would’ve heard you.

The fluttering of your walls around him almost makes him cum right there and then, you feel divine around him, so warm, soft, and made for him.

You collapse against his chest and he pounds into you a few more times, arms going around his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asks, his hips stilling.

“Inside me. It’s safe.” You groan against him, littering his neck with soft kisses and licks. You were under a contraception spell after a very awkward conversation with Gale.

He nods before pumping a few more times and spilling inside you. The warmth of his seed sends a chill down your spine as he fucks himself through it.

Eventually, he gives you the okay to roll off of him. You collapse beside him, your trembling thighs not yet ready to stand and put on your trousers. He tucks himself back into his pants and does up his laces, before turning to look at you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re only saying that because we fucked.” You state, head turning from him to look at the cursed sky.

“Not true, I’m taken aback by your beauty each time I see you.”

“Even when I’m covered in goblin guts or shadow gunk?” You ask, eyes sliding back to his face as he peers down at you.

“Yes, even then.” He replies, moving to lay down beside you. He pulls you close, and you rest your head on his chest. He kisses your forehead.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just basking in each other's company before the distant sound of voices pulls you back to reality. It was time to leave the beach, say goodbye to Dammon for the time being, see the cleric, and march on with your journey.

“We should head back.” You say, sitting up and looking back at Dammon.

He draws random shapes on your back as he stares up at you, not moving.

“Wish you didn’t have to go.” He says as you stand up and retrieve your pants and underwear.

You slide your underwear on before tugging your snug trousers up your legs.

“Me too.” You admit, holding a hand out for him to take.

He does, and you help hoist him up.

One last kiss and you’re off, walking back to the main inn separately as to avoid suspicion. You didn’t mind being seen romantically with Dammon, in fact you were proud to call him yours. You just didn’t want people to know you just fucked on the cursed beach.

You could still feel him as you walked through the doorway, and you had the feeling you’d be sore for a while and you loved it. Just a little reminder of the time you shared together.

Until we meet again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A note: Thanks for reading! I currently have one other BG3 story on my profile about Gale so if you're interested be sure to check it out! This was a quick little story but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: (Comment if you'd like to be on it!)

@sprite-real

#dammon x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #dammon x reader #dammon x fem!reader

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mentalpolaroids · 2 years

Text

Everything always leads back to you

[gif creds @dailystrangerthings]

Steve Harrington x female!Reader

Summary: The three times people spilled Steve’s secrets and the one time Steve did it himself

Warnings: mentions of injuries, swearing

I used some prompts from @promptplanetblr and @novelbear, shout out to them!

“Ow, fucking shit!”

(y/n) yelled from where she stood leaned against the wall rubbing her shin. Steve looked back at her and saw the now familiar pained and frustrated expression taking place in the girl’s features once again.

Steve, Robin and Nancy were helping (y/n) clean the garage of her place. She was about to buy her first car and needed to get rid of all the junk that was taking the much needed space for the vehicle’s future home. Robin agreed under the promise of free rides whenever she needed or pleased. Nancy was excited to see what antiques or old toys she could find and would constantly ask (y/n) if she could keep whatever dusty object she dug from a box, which was amusing to everyone. Add to that making fun of the Wheeler girl and her journalist instincts to ask dozens of questions about the history of said object.

And Steve… Well, Steve didn’t need a reason to say yes to anything (y/n) asked of him. He would drop whatever he was doing to rescue his best friend and spend time with her, and one of his favorite pastimes, besides staring at (y/n) like she was the greatest, most famous and appreciated art piece in a museum, was to scold her for how damn clumsy she was. Both complained, but both secretly loved it. That’s why Steve shook his head in amusement at the sight of beloved best friend in pain.

“I swear I’m gonna use this bubble wrap on you instead of the jars.”

“Look who’s talking, Harrington.” she groaned, “Are you forgetting all the times I had to patch that pretty face of yours?”

Steve smirked.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re annoying.”

“How about bubble wrap for both and also a bit of tape to shut your traps?” Robin interfered, not really with the intention of stopping their bickering. Watching them “fight” was her favorite pastime.

“How about a bow to go with that?” Nancy held an old Christmas decoration and placed it on Steve’s hair, who quickly grabbed it and threw it at (y/n).

“Ew, cobwebs.”

At that, Steve furiously flapped his hair in panic of having a spider settling in on his head. As the girls laughed, (y/n) grabbed Steve’s hand to stop his movements and gently removed the tiny fragment of a cobweb from the strings she dreamed so many times of running her fingers through. The room seemed to grow silent for a second as Robin and Nancy observed the tender interaction between (y/n) and Steve.

“All clear, idiot.” the girl said, wagging her hands for any remains of the sticky, annoying fiber.

Steve thanked her shyly but his embarrassment didn’t die there. He turned around to go back to his previous chore but a trolley went unnoticed by his distracted stance and the boy tripped over it. The hiss that slipped through his teeth caught the girls’ attention and Robin widened her eyes realizing Steve had hit his healing broken rib against the metal.

“Wow, you okay?” (y/n) asked, concerned.

“Shit, dude, your rib!” Robin completely dismissed (y/n)’s question and the clear shut up look Steve sent her way.

After the Starcourt mall incident, Steve realized he was in worse shape than he thought when all the adrenaline vanished from his system and the excruciating pain below his chest was making it difficult to breathe properly and pretend he was okay. He still remembered the terrified look on his best friend’s face when she met him and Robin near the ambulance Steve was getting his face checked, before that, he had already asked- no, demanded, Robin to not tell (y/n) about the broken rib. She was already way too worried about the bruises covering his face, he didn’t want to send her into full panic mode if she knew those bruises felt like barely a scratch compared to the broken bone.

“Did you hurt your rib?” (y/n) asked, confused as to how he managed to hurt his rib with just a bump to the innocent trolley.

“Yes!” Robin shouted and Steve looked at her again in panic.

“No!”

“Steve!”

“Robin!” at this point, he was shooting daggers with his eyes at the short haired girl, “I’m fine!”

(y/n) looked at Nancy hoping to find some answers to whatever was going on, but when she bit her lip in nervousness (y/n) realized that there was something she was being left out of.

“What the hell is going on?” she turned to Steve, “What’s wrong with your rib?”

The look (y/n) gave Steve was stern and he knew the expiry date of keeping his broken rib a secret had come.

After a long pause, Robin couldn’t take the pressure anymore.

“He broke his rib.” Steve closed his eyes in defeat and (y/n) remained confused, “When we escaped from the Russians, they broke Steve’s ribs during one of the beatings.”

(y/n) moved her gaze to Steve, who had his fixated on the trolley, mad that the things gave him away. When the new information quicked in (y/n)’s brain, the panic she felt that night came back.

“Wait, what do you mean one of the beatings?”

Robin’s eyes widened, feeling guilty that (y/n) didn’t know Steve had gotten beaten more than once. But this time, in her defense, she wasn’t aware that (y/n) didn’t know that part of the story.

The Harrington boy rolled his eyes, done with having hope in Robin’s capacity of keeping her mouth shut, and turned to (y/n).

“Yeah, huh, so yeah, they did more than just punch me a few times but hey,” he moved his hands to hold her wrists and comfortingly moved them up until they reached her shoulders, “I’m fine now, okay? Nothing to worry about.”

(y/n) stared back at his pleading eyes and sighed at how easily he could be forgiven with just a look and a smile. Or maybe she was just too weak and too lost in the adoration she had for the boy to stay mad at him for long. It was hard to give Steve the cold shoulder when he always made her feel so warm.

“You’re the one who should be wrapped in bubble wrap.”

Everybody who knew Dustin was aware of his big mouth, but they still trusted the curly haired boy nonetheless. Especially Steve. The soft spot he grew to reserve for Dustin made it easy for him to go with whatever the boy threw his way (or, in most cases, left Steve no choice but to go with it). But, Dustin had a big mouth still, and Steve wished he would have remembered that detail before he took the Henderson kid with him to help him find (y/n)’s birthday present.

“I just don’t get why you didn’t bring Robin or Nancy or even Max to help you. ”

“You just named the three people that are constantly giving me shit about being in love with (y/n).”

“It’s not like they’re wrong.”

Steve rolled his eyes, more annoyed at Dustin being right than his actual remark.

“Not the point.” Steve continued, “I want it to look like I chose the gift myself, last year (y/n) could totally tell Nancy helped me.”

“How could she tell?”

“A pair of shoes that are exactly her style and actually fit her? No way in hell I would ever get that right.”

“Yeah, maybe you should start looking more at other parts of (y/n) instead of her as-”

“Stop it.”

“I’m just saying, if you bought her a pair of jeans I’m sure you would get it right.”

“Okay, Henderson, I get it.”

The two boys, after visiting six stores, eventually agreed on the perfect gift that both tried to convince themselves was (y/n)’s style, and only that was enough to prove it was Steve who chose it. Now they just had to wait to see if she liked it.

Two days before (y/n)’s birthday, she was with Steve and Dustin on the way to the Wheeler’s to pick up Mike. Nancy greeted them at the door and let them in before calling for her little brother the way older sisters do.

Dustin, unlike his usual unphased behavior near Nancy, took notice of her outfit and immediately turned to Steve with wide eyes, then back to analyze the girl’s shirt, (y/n) and then Steve again, who eventually took notice of Dustin’s weird manners and noticed what was getting him all worked up.

“Nancy’s shirt.” Dustin whispered, but loud enough for (y/n), who stood close to Steve, to hear.

“Shut up, dude.”

If (y/n) wasn’t so confused with whatever the two were whispering about, she wouldn’t be ignoring the slight jealousy of why Steve was now so interested in Nancy, or, more specifically, her clothes.

“Mike! For God’s sake,” Nancy sighed while whispering the last sentence, “I’m gonna go get him, just wait here guys.” she said before making her way up the stairs.

Steve and Dustin didn’t seem to acknowledge what she said as they kept bickering in hushed voices.

“What’re you idiots whispering about?” (y/n) asked, crossing her arms.

“Nothing.” both answered.

“Really, what’s wrong with Nancy’s shirt then?”

“Nothing!” Dustin fired the reply, his tone and posture showing his nervousness, “Absolutely nothing, we were just debating how it looks nothing like the present Steve got you.”

Dustin spoke fast but didn’t stutter and immediately regretted opening his mouth, just like Steve regretted ever asking his young friend to go shopping with him. The Harrington boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath hoping to keep his patience in check.

“Yep, looks nothing like your present.” he wasn’t sure if he was giving up on trying to hide what his gift was, he just knew Dustin was no longer apt to keep his secrets.

(y/n) bit her lip to contain a laugh and was about to ask for details on said present when Nancy came down with Mike following her.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready!” Mike said, still pulling his backpack over his shoulders.

“Say hi to the others for me.” Nancy asked, referring to the rest of the party who would be meeting them at the arcade.

“Will do, and you have fun tonight.” (y/n) winked, teasing Nancy about her anniversary date with Jonathan.

“Ew.” Mike commented, understanding what (y/n) was referring to.

“Shut up, lanky Wheeler, we’re gonna be late because of you.” she attacked back.

While they made their way to the car, (y/n) stepped up to meet with its owner, Steve, and pinched his arm to get his attention.

“So, should I guess what my present is or did I already have a glimpse of it?”

“I’m gonna cave to my desires one day and kill Henderson.”

The girl laughed and laced her arm with his.

“For the record, I like it a lot.”

Never in her life had (y/n) felt so irritated with her own hair. She really underestimated the capacities of the woman explaining a supposedly easy way to style your hair and now that damn strand was testing her patience.

Nancy and Jonathan were in charge of (y/n)’s birthday party this year, it took a lot of begging and convincing from the couple, especially when Nancy mentioned a themed party, but eventually, with Steve’s push, (y/n) caved and accepted it. But now, standing in front of the mirror in Steve’s bathroom at war with her own hair, she regretted it all.

“Steve!”

“What?” the boy replied from his room.

“A little help here?”

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll be right back, must be Robin.”

The girl groaned in annoyance and decided to finish the work on her outfit until Steve returned to help her.

It took a while, but eventually (y/n) heard noises coming from her best friend’s room so she assumed he was back. While Steve was gone, she was looking through the bathroom cabinets in hopes of finding anything that could help hair situation, and if there was someone who surely had something to help your hair look great, it would be none other than Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Good thing the legend was (y/n)’s best friend.

“Hey Steve, can I use your Farrah Fawcett spray?” she asked, still running her eyes through the shelves looking for the bottle. At the lack of reply, she called for him again, “Steve?”

Instead of his voice, she heard laughter, a familiar one. Robin. (y/n) ran out of the bathroom to Steve’s room and saw the owner of the laugh, plus Nancy, Jonathan and a not so happy Steve standing there, looking at her, ones in amusement, others in guilt, and a specific one in annoyance. Silence settled in between the group for a few seconds until Nancy broke it.

“Happy birthday!”

The phrase was repeated by the others and each one of them hugged (y/n). After the wave of affection, the birthday girl looked at Steve with guilty eyes.

“I’m sorry! I thought they would be waiting downstairs.”

The boy shook his head, dismissing her unnecessary apology.

“It’s fine, that secret was bound to be let out sooner or later. I just thought it would be Dustin to fuck up.”

(y/n) cringed at the fuck up, but knew he wasn’t actually mad at her. .

“Sorry,” she said again, “But can I use it? I don’t know what else to do with this.” she pointed at the loose strand hanging in front of her forehead.

“Yeah, come on,” Steve put his hands on (y/n)’s shoulders, turned her around so she was standing with her back turned to him and lightly pushed her to the bathroom, “I’ll help you.”

As they disappeared out of the room, Robin, who was finally able to contain her laughter, said.

“Save the making out for after the party!”

And the last thing Robin, Nancy and Jonathan saw before exiting the room as well was Steve’s middle finger sticking out from the bathroom.

“It’s just painful at this point, you know?”

Robin asked as both her and Steve watched (y/n) make her way to the restroom after leaving the movies. Steve, confused, turned to her.

“What are you talking about?”

The girl pointed at the spot their friend just disappeared into.

“I’m not following.” Steve added, still confused.

“(y/n), dingus!”

“What about her?”

Robin rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Are you seriously that dumb or did you just take too many hits in the head that you can’t ratiocinate properly?”

Steve’s eyebrow raised and at that point he was just wondering which one of them looked more delusional.

“Are you ever gonna tell what the hell you’re talking about?”

“You’re in love, dude!”

“Wow, wow,” he shook head, as if the movement would help the words find their place of reason in his brain, “what?”

“(y/n)! You like (y/n), and she likes you, and it’s so annoying that neither of you can see it!”

“Robin…”

“You’re in love with her!”

“No I’m not!”

Their voices had risen a bit and they were starting to get some annoyed looks from the people around them. Robin held Steve by his shoulders and shook him slightly trying to help him get to his senses and see the same picture as her.

“You’re definitely in love, all you ever talk about is her.” Robin’s voice was calmer, but her eyes held intention in her words, “You’re always looking at her, you pay the most attention to her when we’re all together, she’s the first person you share your snacks with and you even have a picture of her on your night stand!”

“How do you even notice that?”

“How do you not?”

Steve scoffed as he shook his head again. Something about Robin’s words sounded familiar, like she was describing his daydreams about his best friend. Ever since Nancy and even after all his failed dating attempts, he became closed off to the possibility of having exactly what he was looking for right in front of him. He was aware of the special feelings towards his best friend but he refused to call it love. He refused it so much that he started to believe in his own lies and now, being confronted about it made him feel like a loser, not only for making his feelings obvious to the outside but for being, once again, in open to another failed relationship.

“i’m not in love, she’s just… she’s just always on the back of my mind and… yeah, I, huh…”

Robin shook his shoulders again. One last push to align his ideas and finally come to his senses.

“Shit, okay, yeah I’m in love with (y/n).”

“Finally.” Robin cheered, and after letting go of Steve she saw the topic of conversation standing behind them, “Hey, you know what, I need to use the restroom too, be right back!”

She left and gently and not so discreetly pushed (y/n) towards Steve.

“What?” the boy asked, following his friend with his head and then he felt his heart being pulled to his back when he saw (y/n) right behind him, “Oh, shit, hey.”

(y/n) smiled, shyly but with a hint of fulfillment.

“Hey.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck having trouble looking (y/n) his best friend in the eyes, and he swore he almost forgot how to stand on his feet when she took a few steps to stand even closer to him.

(y/n) bit her lip, there was a huge smile waiting to be drawn in her face for finally hearing the words she could only dream of hearing.

“How much of that did you hear?” the boy asked, nervously.

“Enough to say that it took you long enough.”

“Huh, what now?” Steve chuckled, a nervous scoff to match his doubtful understanding of her reply.

“Did you mean it?” now it was (y/n)’s turn to become anxious, “Or did you just say it so Robin would shut up?”

“No, I meant it!” he was quick to reassure her, “I totally meant it I just… I don’t know, I…”

“Wasn’t supposed to hear it?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled, feeling more confident at how hopeful she stared at him, “But I’m glad you did. I wasn’t being honest with myself, I didn’t want to fall in love with you so I tried to make excuses for these feelings I had but… everything just always leads back to you and I don’t think I wanna make excuses anymore.”

He could melt with the intensity of (y/n)’s stare over him, but she was in the same state as he was, a result of his confession. They stood like that for a long pack of seconds, looking dumb to those walking by, two idiots in love looking at each other, a moment straight out of one the chick flicks playing in a theater near them.

They both knew what they were waiting for, but neither of them wanted to make the first move, until (y/n) grew fed up with the tension and decided to end it. They’d been dancing around that tension for so long and if there was a time to jump into it, it was that moment.

“So,” (y/n) started, taking another step closer to Steve, “do we kiss, or…?”

Steve, still not believing that moment was actually happening, could only nod his head, and it felt like he was having an out of body experience when (y/n) touched his cheek to properly align her mouth with his and, finally, kiss. At the same time though, Steve never felt more grounded, in the right place, where he belonged and where it all made sense.

They grew more comfortable in each other, and when that comfort turned into addiction the kiss intensified. Hands held onto clothing trying to grip the skin, to be as close to each other as possible.

In the distance, Robin approached her friends with an open mouth in both shock and excitement. They’re finally making out, she thought. Despite her happiness, she started to feel a bit anxious about having to interrupt their moment, especially when she saw Steve lightly push (y/n) against the wall.

“Oh shit.” Robin resumed her steps towards the couple and cleared her throat to try and get their attention. Nothing. She shook her head, amused at the scene and dying to tell the story to the others.

“Guys, hi, huh, I’m so happy for you right now, like, bonkers happy, but I still need a ride home.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #friends to lovers

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thescarletnargacuga · 3 months

Text

Art: @iamespecter

CHAPTER TWO

Racing AU

After the excitement of the track wears off, Pomni's situation sinks in. She's trapped. The others try to make her feel welcome and introduce her to Kaufmo. What could go wrong?

WARNING: angst, abstraction, some violence

Ch1

The racers all filed into the garage as the NPC audience cheered their last. Caine joined them inside and snapped his fingers. All their karts teleported inside to their respective part of the open floor plan garage. There was a spiraling metal stair case to a second floor loft that lined the outer wall. Every upstairs door lead out to overlook the garage. To the far right was a lounge with comfortable looking couches and chairs and recreational activities; such as pool and table tennis.

Pomni wiped the last of the confetti off her shoulder as she looked around. "Is this...all there is?"

"Of course not!" Caine chimed in before anyone else could answer. "In between races you have full use of the practice track! Take a look!" He opened the blinds and the outside looked different. The start line was the same but the stands where empty. The track no longer led underground but instead continued to curve around the garage and looped back to the start in a perfect oval. "And inside, you can play mini games with your new friends!" Pomni stared at the others with uncertainty. "Also!" Caine pulled Pomni by the hand to an empty kart area of the garage. "You can customize your kart! Everything from the engine and tires to the body and paint! The only limit is your imagination!"

"And the game's source engine." Jax added. "I've already tested that. He won't let you add more that five accessories to the kart or you end up clipping into the void."

"The...void?" Pomni paled.

"Now, Jax. We needn't bring THAT up. It's nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. There are many safety features in place to prevent that from happening. I can assure you, as host, I've never lost anyone in the void. I know all your positions at all times thanks to my wacky watch!" Caine proudly showed the small purple TV on his wrist. Six blips appeared on screen.

Caine tapped his watch. "Huh...Welp, I gotta get going! The tracks don't generate themselves! I've got to prepare for tomorrow's race! Speak to one of our Bubble assistants if you have any more questions!" Then with a pop, he was gone.

Pomni took a step back and rubbed her arms as she looked at everyone still staring at her. "Look, uh... The race was fun, but...how do I...leave?"

The others looked down or away from her. None of them wanting to be the one to tell her.

Jax groaned incredulously. "You can't. None of us can."

"Jax!" Ragatha scolded. "Why do have to be so tactless!?"

"Because there is no tact when it comes to telling someone they're stuck in digital purgatory for all of eternity, Ragatha!" He got nose to nose with her and they glared at each other.

"Please, don't fight." Gangle whimpered.

"Seriously. Will you two get a grip?" Zooble rolled their eyes and looked at Pomni. "He's right though. Welcome to your new home." Zooble then went to the pinball machine in the lounge.

"What? Why can't we leave? I don't understand. Isn't this just a game?" Pomni felt he face again for the headset she barely remembered she had on before appearing here.

"It was supposed to be just a game..." A quiet voice came from the lounge. Kinger had turned the couch cushions and pillows into a fort and was securely inside it. "People were never meant to be stuck here. Something went wrong."

Pomni got closer to the fort. "What went wrong?"

Kinger popped his head out. "What went where?"

"You'll have to excuse him." Ragatha sighed. "He's been here the longest."

"That's why he's crazy!" Laughed Jax. "That's all our fates, Pomni. Giving into the madness or being broken by it."

Ragatha grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Jax. "Go be a nuisance somewhere else!"

"My impenetrable fortress!" Cried Kinger as the missing pillow left a hole in his carefully made fort.

"Fine. I've got better things to do anyway. Like eat. Hey, Bubble chef!" Jax walked off to a table set for dining and a Bubble appeared to assist him.

Gangle got the pillow Ragatha threw and fixed Kinger's fort.

"Thank you." Kinger sighed with relief and disappeared inside.

Ragatha put a gentle hand on Pomni's shoulder. "Look...being here isn't so bad. Caine keeps us busy and we have each other." She glared at Jax. "For better or worse. There's one person you haven't met yet, he wasn't at the race today. Would you like to come with me to check on him?"

Pomni had been out of it as she really processed her situation. No way to leave. Stuck in digital purgatory. Forever. She could never go back to the life she had. Everything and everyone she had known didn't matter anymore. She vomited.

Ragatha jumped back to keep from stepping in it, but kept her hand on Pomni. She gently steered Pomni to the stairs. "Come on, Kaufmo will cheer you up. He's very good at it. Clean up!" She called out and a Bubble appeared.

"I'm on it!" The Bubble proceeded to lick up the mess. Gangle was nearly sick herself witnessing it.

Ragatha and Pomni went upstairs and walked along the long loft towards Kaufmo's room.

"Ragatha...I'm confused. Why participate in the races at all? Why not search for a way out? Are we really sure we can't leave?" Pomni said quietly.

"You aren't the first person to search for the exit, many have tried. None have succeeded." They walked past door after door. Many blank but a few had faces. Unknown faces with red Xs painted over them. "We all looked for a way out at some point or another, but we've come to accept our place here because ...well, constantly pursuing an unobtainable goal will drive you to mind breaking insanity. And when you've reached that point...there's no return."

"[@#$& !¥π∆]" Pomni muttered, the cartoonish sound effects not phasing her this time.

"...I know." Ragatha frowned and knocked on the door to Kaufmo's room. No answer. "Kaufmo? Hey, you in there? We got a new racer today! Wanna meet her?" No answer. "Huh, maybe he's not in his room?"

BOOM!

Something large and heavy hit the wall in front of them. It shook the building and got the attentions of those still downstairs.

BOOM!!

The wall around Kaufmo's door started to crack. The door itself buckling from impact.

BOOM!!!

The door flew off the wall, Ragatha and Pomni dove out of the way, missing it by inches. The door hit the railing and fell end over end to the ground floor with a loud crash. The girls looked up at the emerging creature from the broken doorframe. A beast of indeterminate dimensions snarled as it's many eyes look wildly around in their sockets.

"What is that!?"

"Remember that whole 'point of no return'? This is it! Run, Pomni!" Ragatha took off down her section of the railing. Pomni turned on her heel and ran the opposite direction. The beast tried swiping at them both, causing it to flop on the railing in front of it, crushing it. The beast roared and randomly chose to go after Pomni. Those on the ground could only watch as Pomni circle the building trying to get to the stairs.

"What's happening!?" Gangle screamed, hiding behind Zooble.

Zooble looked up in horror as they connected the dots. "Kaufmo...no."

Jax sat under the dinner table with the stack of pancakes he ordered. He sighed and took a bite. "Here we go again."

Pomni made it to the stairs before Ragatha and slid down the railing. She fumbled the landing but kept running to the door that led outside. The beast caught Ragatha at the stairs and smashed her against the wall. The janked nature of the beast made Ragatha glitch. She screamed as she was thrown around again and again, eventually being tossed over the side and landing hard on the garage floor.

The beast jumped with the intent to crush Ragatha, but Gangle's ribbon grabbed her leg and pulled her free of the impact zone. The beast came down hard and broke the floor, textures started glitching in and out.

"In here! Quick!" Kinger opened his fortress and beckoned Zooble, Ragatha and Gangle inside. They hunkered down and held each other as they heard the beast get up from its fall. It roared and started smashing at an outside wall.

"Pomni is still out there!" Ragatha was barely understandable through her glitched speech pattern. "We have to help her!"

"No! Stay out of sight. Safe." Kinger stuttered out. The bashing and crashing of the abstracted Kaufmo brought back too many memories. He curled himself in the fetal position and stared at nothing.

Zooble pulled off one of their eyes and used it to discreetly peak out. The beast was trying to break though the wall where the entrance door was. They looked around and saw Jax still under the dining table, just finishing his pancakes. "He's right. Caine's never gone for too long. We have to wait this out. ...like last time."

"And the time before that and the time before that and the time before that-" Kinger repeated.

Gangle held Zooble's hand. Despite her best brave face, she was shaking. "It's Kaufmo, isn't it?"

Zooble nodded.

Gangle started to cry. "I didn't think it'd be him next. He was always so...so..."

"Happy? Yeah, hate to break it to you, but if someone is happy all the time...they're not." Zooble put their eye back and held Ragatha's glitching hand. It made their own arm glitch but they bared the pain to be of some comfort to Ragatha.

BOOM!!

The building shook as the beast made it outside. It saw Pomni making a break for the stands and charged. Pomni ran as fast as her new little legs could go. She could see an entryway inside the stands, maybe she could hide there. Over her shoulder, she could see the beast gaining. Not looking ahead, she ran into the door and fell on her ass.

She scrambled for the door handle. The beast was nearly upon her and WHAM! She made it though the frame just in time. She got to her feet and ran in any direction away from the door. She saw some stairs with a sign that read "Announcer Booth" and she bolted up them. The higher she went the more the textures around her started to de-load.

"For [✓√@&#] sake, how tall is this tower??" She huffed. She took a moment to catch her breath when she finally made it to the top and took a look around. She wasn't in any kind of tower, in fact, it looked like she wasn't anywhere at all. Blank gridded walls and ceilings went as far as the eye could see. Unused textures and assets sparsely dotted the landscape. Peices of half built track hovered unsupported. Obstacles still in the process of being designed.

"Pomni? What are you doing here??"

Pomni screamed at the top of her lungs and swung around to see Caine hovering just feet from where she stood. Tie loose, cane, top hat, and coat missing, he looked as though he'd been very busy and she interrupted him.

"I realize you're new around here, so you didn't know, but I don't like people seeing my unfinished work. It's...well, a bit embarrassing." He cleared his non-existent throat. "You'll get a front row view of my latest creation tomorrow, I promise! I'll just send you back now."

"WAIT!"

Caine paused mid-snap.

"There's a thing outside! It attacked us!"

"Attacked? No enemies should be in bounds this late in the day."

"No, No! It was the guy! The UHHH-" Pomni struggled to remember the name in panic.

Caine gave her a look. "The 'guy'? Really now, if you just wanted an excuse to stay up here, you could have just said so. I do have a few mostly completed projects I suppose I could show you-"

"NO! THE GUY! THE CLOWN! THE- THE- KAUFMO! That's his name! Kaufmo turned into some beast and is breaking everything! He hurt Ragatha!"

"Kaufmo abstracted!? Why didn't you say so!" He grabbed Pomni's hand and teleported with her to the starting line. There they saw the beast still bashing it's head(?) against the door to the stands. He snapped his fingers and the monster started to levitate.

"Into the cellar you go." A pit opened as Caine lowered the beast down.

Pomni was floating with Caine and the pit opening made her grab his arm tightly. She watched the beast that was Kaufmo fall down into the darkness, his roar sounding like a pitiful wail as the pit closed.

"Well...that's that." Caine's usual boisterous voice came out somber as he looked down where the pit had been.

"How many times has this happened?" Pomni asked, her voice raspy from screaming.

"Too many times." Caine left it at that as he snapped his fingers again and the damage to the buildings repaired. He teleported inside with Pomni to check his charges.

"Caine! About [@#$&!] time!" Zooble grunted as they fought to keep their own composer, helping Ragatha out of the pillow fort.

"Oop-" Caine snapped his fingers and they were normal again. He then floated down to let Pomni touch solid ground again. "Sorry about that, everyone. I was looking for Kaufmo initially, his signature wasn't coming up on my wacky watch, but then I...you know, got distracted. So much work and only so much me to handle it all." He laughed nervously. "Speaking of which, I really need to get back to it. Big race tomorrow! Rest up, my little superstars!" He poofed away.

A heavy silence fell over everyone. They looked at each other, shaken over when just happened. The building was completely repaired, even Kaufmo's room. No signs that someone abstracted. Like it never happened...or mattered.

Jax stretched as he stood up from the floor. "Uuuuugh! Finally. I was tired of sitting under there."

Ragatha saw red. She stormed over to Jax and smacked him hard enough to echoe through the garage. "What the [@#$!] is wrong with you!? Kaufmo just- he- how can you take this so lightly!?" Tears burned her unbuttoned eye.

Jax rubbed his face but otherwise didn't flinch from Ragatha. "How can you take this so seriously? It's not like it's the first time it's happened. And it won't be the last." He looked down at her. "I'm going to bed, unless anyone else wants to smack the [@#$&] out of me?" No one looked at him so he pocketed his hands and went upstairs.

Ragatha broke down into sobs. Gangle tried to comfort her. Zooble couldn't handle any more and left to their room. Kinger was politely putting all of the pillows back to her original places. Pomni went to him.

"Hey, uh...Kinger, right?"

"AH! Oh, hello, didn't see you there." He yeeted the pillow he was holding when he got startled so he clasped his hands together in front of him.

"The... Kaufmo thing-"

"Abstraction." Kinger said flatly.

"Uh, yeah...how many times has it happened?"

"So many times. So many friends. So many-"

"Give me a number. Please." Pomni tried to disguise her frustration with a smile.

"Eight people started the race. Then there were seven. Then six. Then seven. Then six. Then four. Then five. Then eight. Then seven. Then six. Then five. Then six. Then five. Then six. Then seven. Then six." Kinger started to shake in place, his eyes bloodshot.

Pomni took a step back. "Yeesh, maybe you are just crazy." She looked to Ragatha and Gangle having a cry over Kaufmo. She felt awkward possibly interrupting so she went upstairs.

She followed the doors. So many Xs. So many "abstractions". Was this really their fate? To play some game forever or risk falling apart? Her mind raced as she finally saw a door with her face on it. It's big, pleading eyes staring back at her.

"I'm getting out of here. Death would be a kinder fate than this." She took one last glance at the X'd doors and went inside her room.

~~~

Ch3

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc caine #tadc gangle #tadc jax #tadc pomni #tadc zooble #tadc ragatha #tadc kinger #tadc fanfiction #tadc showtime #slow burn #gangle x zooble #angst #The amazing digital Raceway

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friendship-ditch · 3 months

Text

Strange Games

(Jody Moreno x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: You and Jody have some fun after filming.

Warnings/Notes: None! Fluffiest fluff.

Word Count: 1504

“Nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere.”

A mischievous voice sounded from behind the door. Moments later, a hand locked around your wrist and pulled you back behind the shield.

Jody pinned you to the wall with one of her smug, teasing grins. Her blue eyes were practically glowing with her excitement at having caught her prey.

“Oh no! You caught me! What ever will I do?” The cool metal wall fought against the embrace of your back as her arms pinned you. “Please spare me! I have a family! I have a wife and… a bunch of kids, and a dog!”

This drew a laugh from Jody’s close lips, her face near yours, space just barely between her nose and your cheek.

“Oh, do you now?” Jody’s chuckles always made your heart flutter. They were one of your favorite sounds, and she knew this. She leaned a little closer to you. “Is she nice?”

“Sometimes.. Sometimes she can be a bit of an ass.”

“I think I know somebody better.” Her lips met yours in a quick, playful kiss. Her slender arms snaked around your neck when she pulled away with the same grin. “Am I a better contender?”

Your heart was racing now, pounding in your chest as your head spun from the teasing notion. The smell of Jody’s sweet, citrus shampoo flooded your lungs. The touch of her arms against your neck felt as suffocating as a warm blanket on a mildly chilly day where it was too warm for a sweater but too cold for a t-shirt, it was comforting, but also overwhelming… and you didn’t want her to pull away.

“You’re… you’re definitely up there. Kiss me again and I’ll decide.” You stammered.

“Boy, am I glad you’re a stunt woman and not an actual actress. You’re not very convincing.” Jody murmured with a glint of amusement in her eyes. She pulled you a little closer and kissed you again. When she pulled away, she tucked hair out of your eyes. “So… what about your kids?”

“The strangest thing happened…” you breathed softly, nose brushing to hers as you felt her pull you for a more intimate kiss. “They got abducted by aliens, the wife too.”

Jody giggled loudly at this–a little too loud–and the door was closed that you two were hiding behind.

Tom Ryder, the glorious, shining, market-moving, gorgeous actor (read: self centered prick) stepped out, dipped his night time sunglasses, raised an eyebrow, and then just turned and walked the opposite direction with only a huff.

You burst out laughing and Jody clamped a hand over your mouth to prevent any further attention. The laughter bubbled down in your chest as the embarrassment of the situation set in, and once you’d fallen quiet, Jody grabbed your hand and dragged you over to where everyone else was.

Most of the crew had settled in the back of a few trailers, celebrating the majority of shooting being over. There were colorful lights set up that glimmered off the metallic trailer walls, the distinct smell of beer and a little sweat in the air, the popping sound of sparklers, as well as some overly sweet cupcakes somebody had brought, and the ground was littered with foldable chairs half set up and half claimed.

Jody brought you over to one of the lowered backs of the a trailer, each of you holding a red solo cup with some sort of alcoholic drink. She took a seat on a crate, slipping her arms around your neck as she gazed at you with her lovesick blue eyes. “How about a game?” She hummed, ruffling your hair with soft fingers.

“What kind of game?” With the mannerisms of a lost puppy, you tilted your head, thinking back to her past games. Some of them were normal; she’d pull out a miniature Uno game from her pocket, or a silly game like eye-spy, and others… Well, the last time she’d asked this, you’d agreed to a strange alteration of Yahtzee which sent you both to the set nurse, covered in various square shaped bruises.

Sensing your hesitation, Jody giggled again and squeezed your shoulders. “Rock paper scissors.”

“And…?”

“And?”

“Come on, where’s the dangerous change? The strange rule you’ll add?”

Her soft forehead pressed into yours, her warm breath tickling your face as her lips spread into another look of amusement.

“If you lose, I get to smash one of these against your head.” Using her foot, Jody tugged over a cardboard box full of fake glass bottles, some leftovers from a big bar fight scene the other day. “Gail let me keep ‘em, and I think I found a fun use.”

You eyed the fake bottles with amusement, already bracing for the impact of them shattering against your head. “And… if I win?”

“A kiss?”

“I get those all the time.”

Jody stuck out her bottom lip and crossed her arms. It was almost just as adorable as she is. Jody has a habit of pouting when things don’t go her way, and though she’d usually take the reins and turn it back around, it’s a little more difficult with you.

Lovingly pushing her buttons, that’s what you call it.

She usually just calls it you pissing her off.

It works both ways.

“A sponge bath?” Jody prompted curiously. “I give a great sponge bath.”

Turns out she knew how to push your buttons as well as she let out a snort at the way you turned pink.

“Sponge bath it is.” She grabbed your hand and held it up in position. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Rock, paper, scissors… Shoot!”

Within seconds, her hand was in a flat shape, and now clasped over your fist. She flashed you a wry grin and reached for the stunt glass bottle.

“Shit…” You sighed and prepared yourself.

A few seconds later it made impact with your head, the sugar glass shattering everywhere. You fell down with it, collapsing beside Jody and playing dead.

She laughed again, nudging your side with her foot. “Come on, you big baby, get up.”

You’d spent enough time around actors, as well as playing them, to pull off a pretty convincing fake death. Your face pressed into the wooden table you were laying on and didn’t move.

Jody pushed you again. No response. Another shove. Nothing.

“Y/N?” Her voice had raised an octave, the slightest hint of uneasiness. Jody set her drink down and then bent beside you, shaking you gently. “Hey, Y/N?”

You stayed “dead,” finding her worry sort of cute. Sure, she’d beat your ass later for it, but it was just a bit of fun.

“Y/N, this isn't funny.” Jody shook you again, sliding an arm under your stomach and flipping you over. Your limp leg swung and knocked your drink over. She felt your face with her fingers, worriedly checking your pulse.

Your act was going pretty well, until she pried open one of your eyes with her fingers and you couldn't help but snort.

“You idiot!” Jody exclaimed, sitting you up. She glared at you, but pulled pieces of the glass out of your hair with a lover's tenderness. “You scared me! Don’t do that! You can’t do that…”

Her yelling slowly lowered as a few people looked your way. You held your thumb up to let them know it was all good and she pushed it down. “Nuh-uh, you’re not gonna be fine when I’m done with you.” She huffed, plucking more sugar glass out of your hair.

“I couldn’t help it.” You giggled softly, wincing as she flicked you in the cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Jody growled at you, cupping your face once she finished and squeezing it tight. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I hate you.”

“You hate me?”

“I love you.”

You smirked as Jody admitted it and she glared at you again. She flicked your nose this time and then gently shoved your head. Even when mad at you, she was still touchy.

“You spilled my drink.” You gestured to the abandoned solo cup on the ground, the little umbrella soaked.

Jody wrinkled her nose at you. “You spilled it.”

“You made me spill it.”

“Screw you.” She muttered and went to get you a new drink, though she was smiling softly to herself.

When Jody came back, she settled behind you and slipped her arms around your shoulders, resting her chin there too. She gave you a tight squeeze, holding you against her body like treasure or prey.

“So… no sponge—hmph!” You turned to look at her but she cut you off with a kiss, her hands slipping around your neck and holding you close.

When she pulled away, she held a finger to your lips. “No sponge bath because you suck.” She must’ve noticed the disappointment in your face because she pinched your lips together. “But I’ll kiss you, just cause you’re cute.”

“Good enough for me.” You replied just in time before she kissed you again.

#the fall guy movie #the fall guy 2024 #the fall guy #Jody Moreno #jody moreno x fem reader #jody moreno x reader #colt seavers #Tom Ryder #emily blunt #metalstorm #x reader

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ruthlesscore · 4 months

Note

hi, hey, and hello!

I saw your stuff for ed and thought it was pretty neat! (It also kinda inspired me to ask you this request)

Whenever you get the chance could you maybe write something for A.K.I?

i just wanna see one of my fav sf6 characters in action!

A.K.I x Reader - Bubble of Toxin

- Thank you so much for requesting! Just like the last two posts, I've been planning an A.K.I related post! I really hope you enjoy this. I had fun writing it! -

- I had trouble trying to keep A.K.I in character, sorry about that! -

- The only way I can see A.K.I being with someone, and getting over her feelings of F.A.N.G Fei, is for her to relate to someone on a personal level. You feel? -

You come from a prestigious family. You're family is strange and keeps too many secrets. One being what you inherited from your father, which he gets from his mother: poison immunity. Who knows how this generational trait started, but you do know you have a special type of poison immunity, a genetic mutation, that the rest of your blood relatives don't: you are immune to more than one type of poison, which is nice considering everyone else is immune to only one type. Venom, plants, metals, bug bites, snake bites, carbon monoxide, and mushrooms. Due to this, you were really reckless as a teenager. You constantly got into fights and trouble with the law. When you turned of age you received a job offering that set you straight. No more street rat BS, and no more fighting just to roughen your hands up a bit.

You were an interpool anget.. and a self proclaimed culinary anthropologist, so you have to act like you have some sort of dignity. You go from place to place eating food, researching the ways human culture engage with food in a complex social and cultural way, and kicking ass for a just cause.

You've been all over the world, all except China. It's not like you don't like China, no not at all. It's more like there's more talented agents in the area, like Chun-Li, that are more qualified for the job than you! ... until you received a call from the commissioner. He asked if you could deliver something important to a personnel in Hong Kong. Of course you accept and head down there immediately.

Once you arrive, you head right for the rendezvous point in Tian Hong Yuan and handed off the package to the personnel. Now that Interpool work is done, you can finally get to what you like best, eating. Heading for the nearest food stand, with your yuan in your hand, you feast your eyes on some Kung Pao Chicken. After paying the vendor, you were heading to find somewhere to sit. Before you even reached a seat, a random bystander shouted.

"Someone just fainted!"

You turn your attention to the crowd forming. Now, you weren't a doctor or anything, but you were an Interpool agent! It's pretty much your job to help, right? You rush over to the crowd, pushing people out the way. The man who collapsed on the ground had a small pouch in his half opened hand. His body seemed to be screaming in pain. He groaned as if he couldn't move.

"Time to work. Time to work."

You look up to see a woman with a style you've never seen before. She works her way through the paniced crowd and to the man.

"You thought I had money in there? Oh, that's just my delicious poison!"

You think she talks funny. Her dialect is a bit childish for her age. She pokes at the mans chest with her claw like gauntlets.

"When inhaled, coriamyrtin blocks the gamma-aminobuytyrix acid receptors in the central nervous system, causing spasmodic muscle contractions... Time to put you out of your misery."

Misery? This lady is going to kill that man! You scarf down the rest of your Kung Pao Chicken before setting the disk down on a nearby table. You grab the lady's hand gently before pushing her off of the man with a push of her shoulder.

"You cannot take an innocent man's life!"

The woman clicks her tongue and looks at you with a shocked face.

"Ah, but he stole from me."

"Even so! You can't just flat out murder someone on the street!"

After a pause..

"Hm? Is that so?"

The lady stands up and shakes her head. She stands in a way that you can only assume she wishes to engage in a street fight with you, and you comply without another word. You stand in your typical fighting stance stance.

After a tough and fierce battle with the mysterious woman, you emerge victorious. The woman could only glare at you before tapping the poor man on the forehead, cleansing him of the poison he was tainted with. The woman grabed her pouch and left, and you hope you'd never see her again.

The next morning, you're down at the Nan Lian Garden. Since you were finish with your mission already, you might as well spend the rest of the trip eating and exploring, right? While walking along the path, you pass regular civilians. Once you hit that corner, you saw her again. That woman from yesterday. You couldn't help but to glare. An old man stood next to you.

"Hm? Are you looking at Aki dài fu?"

You turn to him.

"The doctor? Her? The woman in the black cheongsam?"

"Yes, her. She's a traveling doctor and very kind to the elderly. Be sure to say hi when you walk past her."

The old man his headed his way, levaing you alone... So her name is Aki? You take that bit of information with you as you continue down the path. You see Aki staring into the water from the bridge. You slowly walk past her, your street rat ways slowly pushed itself back into your head.

"Still trying to kill innocent civilians, Aki?"

She doesn't even turn to look at you. She just rolls her shoulders.

"Yesterday, when we fought, my poisons didn't work on you."

You stood next to her on the bridge, looking down into the water with her.

"And your poisons never will."

"How annoying."

"You wanna go?"

It felt like the two of you were standing there for what felt like hours, but was only a few minutes. The wind gently blew through your hair.

"____."

"Shishishi.. Don't go telling strangers your name. You don't know what I might do with it."

You just rolled your eyes. You turned to look at her.

"That thing. How'd you make that bubble you made? To make a toxin like that in such a short time is mad."

"Mad? I have built up an impressive resistance to neurotoxins. All because of my impressive master, F.A.N.G Fei!"

Who? Damn, you didn't even care. This lady was a straight lunatic and a possible threat to people's lives. As she went on and on about how great her master was, you began to wonder how far does her resistance goes. She said she built it up, but yours is due to a genetic mutation. As you drowned her words out, you couldn't help but to think that you finally found someone outside the family with a resistance to poison. Even if hers is built up.

"It's a family thing."

You stated, cutting her off.

"Every blood relative on the old man's side has an immunity to poison. The type of poison varies from person to person."

Aki just looked at you. Her lips drawn in a straight line.

"Really? I've never heard of it being a genetic trait. Interesting."

She sticks her hand up and the nails got longer and sharper.

"I should take a blood sample. Hold still ____."

"Huh?!"

Aki's lips curled into a smile.

"Kidding, shishishi!"

After awhile, you decide to head back to the place you were staying. Maybe the doctor isn't so bad.

Now, you were a traveling agent, and Aki stationed herself in China. It wasn't long before you had to leave and continue your work elsewhere. When you did leave, you thought about her and the way she talked about poisons. You went 4 entire months without talking to her before heading back to China for some more cultural experiences. You met her in the same spot in Tian Hong Yuan around midnight. She wasn't surprised to see you. You invited her to grab a meal with you, asking her for recommendations. You didn't know her life outside the bubble of toxin, and she didn't know yours. The meal was so good that you decided to get some food with her the next time you saw each other. Of course, Aki said if you win in a street fight against her, she'll pay for the meal.

It's became routine for the two of you. Grabbing food everytime you see each other, talking about your interests, consuming different poisons, and street fighting. You two enjoy your meals so much, it's starting to feel like dates. Oh, and Aki's smile is so sweet. Even if she constantly finds joy in morbid things, if she's happy, then it's fine. Aki blushes when she laughs at your shortcomings. Oh, when you smile at her, her shoulders loosen up, her hands place neatly on her chest, and her eyes widen in awe. Then she scratches you straight in the face, screaming about how annoying you are, calling you a rat and other things as she storms off. You started to think she had a crush on you at one point. At the end of your 4th meal together, you asked to exchange phone numbers.

At some point, it became mandatory to call Aki once a week and talk for 10 minutes or more. She seems to be enjoying your company more and more.

Now, Aki isn't one for physical person outside from her master, but she picked up the habit of sizing you up followed by a light kick of the shins when she sees you. She says that youre a small mouse and she's a snake.

Once she gets even more comfortable with you she'll introduce you to F.A.N.G. She gave you fair warning that if you attempt to hurt him, she will murder you.

If F.A.N.G. likes you, Aki will become very cuddly around you. If he doesn't, you will die.

Aki has no intention of learning about your occupation outside of culinary antropology, and you don't care for hers outside of her medical practice. As long as you keep your nose out of her business, everything will be fine. As for distance, it doesn't bother her, but she wants to see you in person at least once a month.

You two don't have a formal title to your relationship, but it's clear to everyone that something is going on.

You just want this delusion to last forever. To be at peace with Aki and to hold her in your arms.

"But the spider will eat the butterfly eventually."

#request #sf6 #sf6 x reader #street fighter 6 #street fighter x reader #sf aki #A.K.I #a.k.i.#Street fighter Aki x reader

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