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classicalchan · 7 months

Text

liar

pairing: bangchan x f! reader

rating: sfw

tags: sharing a bed, just pure softness, cuddling, best friends to lovers, pining, confessions, tired chan

wc: i'm too lazy to count but idk it's probably 2k 😭(I'm definitely wrong)

your doorbell rings when it's close to midnight, its sound reverberating through every corner of your little apartment. your socked feet carry you from bed to the door on autopilot. you weren't sleeping, but you were nearly there.

you open up your front door and off-white light from the hallway spills shamelessly into your dark living space. Chan stands there, bag slung lazily across his shoulder, eyes droopy with sleep.

"they borrowed my place for a party i don't wanna be at," he declares. "I'm sleeping here."

he walks in without waiting for an answer, wrapping you in a quick, one-armed hug for a greeting on his way. his bag finds its place on your couch. he switches a couple of lamps on here and there and fixes a photo frame on his way to your bathroom with a towel and some clothes in hand.

you kind of like how it's so natural for him to be at your place. like he belongs here. like he could live here.

you wished he would.

you lay back in bed, shifting to a side, leaving the rest of the space for Chan. ever since you first cuddled up with him a few months ago, it became an unspoken rule between you to always sleep cuddled up when alone.

it was one of the best parts of your friendship with him. you could abandon every care in the world when he was around and just be. He was always there- gentle, warm, protective, kind. everything you wished for in a man.

everything you can't have.

it had been weeks since you had gone to bed without thinking of him. even in the face of extreme exhaustion and no contact, Chan never failed to slip into your thoughts. he needed to compensate you for all the nights you couldn't sleep just because he did something adorable during the day and you wouldn't stop thinking about it.

he needed to apologize for every time you accidentally called one of your friends by his name, just because he wouldn't leave your head.

and he needed to desperately make up for nights like these. nights when he would touch you and let you touch him, but never enough. there was always a weighted, invisible boundary you hated with all your guts. a burning line you couldn't cross.

so, over the days, you had learned to make peace with what you got, no matter how little. you had learned to make the most of his arms around you, the firmness of his torso pressed to your back, the warmth of his breathing behind your ear, his occasional sleepy rambling.

sometimes he said your name.

before you knew it, the mattress dips beside you, the familiar scent of Chan's shampoo filling up your senses. you came alive a little.

his arm slips across your middle, pulling you as close as humanly possible into the abyss that was his warmth. you could spend an eternity here without a syllable of protest falling from your lips.

“i don’t have a shirt on, is that okay?” he mumbles into your hair.

more than okay, you wanted to say but for the sake of the friendship you had spent years building, you resorted to a small hum. he usually slept barely clothed, but when with you, he always asked. he made sure never to cross any lines. he was cautious, reserved. too far.

“is everything okay?” you ask. “you usually do not turn down a chance to party.”

you feel him move behind you, long fingers fiddling with the thin fabric of your t-shirt. he yawns like a puppy.

“i’d had a busy day,” he begins. “i needed some sleep and you know how bad i am at getting to sleep alone...”

his knuckle accidentally brushes your navel. you shiver.

“…besides you weren’t there. i’ve missed having you around y/n, now that i see it.”

your skin flushes hot, lips involuntarily swelling into a smile. you turn your face into your pillow, determined to bury your happiness into the fluff.

“i’ve missed you too,” you confess.

his blunt nails graze against your flesh again, and you wonder how much of it was accidental anymore. could Chan tell? did he know how down bad you were for him?

“liar,” he whispers, squeezing your body lightly into his own.

he liked to do that, you had noticed. almost as if finding a way to inch closer, as if making up for the fact that there would always be some molecular distance between you no matter what.

or maybe you were just reading too much into it.

you place a hand over his own, fingertips drawing subtle lines into his pale skin, tracing the veins you stared at shamelessly in broad daylight.

“you really think i’d lie to you?”

“you wouldn’t?” he asks.

you turned around, facing him. your hand settles on his bare chest. you could feel his heart beat beneath your touch.

“no,” you confirm. “never.”

he smiles, his hair getting into his eyes as he puts his forehead against yours.

“okayyy,” he giggles. “tell me something then, since you claim to not lie.”

your heart picks up pace, hammering beneath your chest, and you were half afraid Chan might hear it. you swallow thickly, a small lump forming in your throat.

“yeah?”

his gaze wraps over you like a veil, clouding everything else just enough that he is all you can see.

"do you like me?" he whispers.

the question drops in your heart and sinks into your gut. you've been caught, red-handed. but you were so careful, so vigilant, looking but never for too long, complimenting him but being careful not to flirt, telling him you love him when he needed to hear it but taking care to conceal the love you felt.

you want to play it cool. you're scared of how it's going to go.

"duh," you say. "of course i like you, why else would we be friends?"

he clicks his tongue, a soft laugh escaping his lips. he drops a light kiss on your forehead and you sigh.

"you're not that naive," he states. "come on, I'll wait for you."

you feel your cheeks heat up. it gets harder by the second to stay still, not with chan's fingers rubbing warmth into your back, his face so close you could steal a kiss. he was no fool. he never had been. who did you think you were hiding from?

"i..." you begin, your mouth drying up. "yeah."

you feel his marble fingers slip under your chin. pressure, soft but commanding, forced you to look at him.

"you what, sweetheart?"

the endearment sent you spiraling. you squeeze his muscled shoulder, fingers digging into flesh.

"don't be an ass," you say. "i'm not gonna say it."

he chuckles. you watch his gaze move across your face, settle on your lips, and then back to your eyes again. you didn't want to think ahead of yourself.

you didn't want to break your heart.

he leaned in, his arm circling around your waist, his mouth leaving a soft kiss to your temple. you could die like this and it wouldn't be so bad.

"please," he whispers. "you said you'd be honest."

and who were you to turn down chan with his gentle voice and sturdy hands and body warmth and huge heart and ---? you could go on forever.

you grind your teeth together unconsciously, draw in a deep breath, and sigh. he knows you're giving in.

"i do like you," you admit finally. "so much more than a friend."

his palm slides up your back and finds your hair, long fingers gripping them and pulling you in. he smiles when he kisses you- mouth tasting of cinnamon and longing and want.

"fucking finally," he breathes. "you've got no idea how long i've waited for this."

you melt into a caramel puddle in his hands. you lean in again, pressing your lips onto his like he'd disappear, like this is all you've got.

taglist: @tinysoftie

NAVIGATION

join the taglist <3

#bangchan #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bangchan skz #chan skz #chan x you #bangchan fic #bangchan headcanons #bangchan stray kids #chan fic #stray kids #skz #chan fluff #cuddling #best friends to lovers #bang chan #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines

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morgana-ren · 9 months

Note

i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)

First part of the story HERE

Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!

"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"

He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--

"My love, I just need you to--"

"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."

"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"

"My lord?"

Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.

She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.

"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"

Her blood smells of rot and she--

She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.

"I won't!"

Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—

—his soul?

The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--

And suddenly he is in a chair.

Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

"What in the hells—"

His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.

"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"

The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.

"I-- What was that?"

He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.

"No-- No, that cannot be it!"

"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."

He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.

"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"

"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"

"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"

Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.

"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"

"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."

He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.

"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"

She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"

But the woman simply shakes her head.

"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."

His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.

"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."

"And what of what she feels?"

His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.

"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"

"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"

"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."

They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.

"I-- I need to know she will be safe."

Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."

He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."

"Then you may yet see this through."

He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--

"The coin first, boy."

He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.

"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."

"Me too, Little Star."

He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.

"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.

"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.

"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.

"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.

"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.

He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.

Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--

She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--

And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.

"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"

"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.

"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.

"And?"

"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."

"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."

"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"

"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."

"And what do you think?"

"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."

#morgana and friends #astarion #astarion spoilers #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #heh that last one messed yall up huh #heres a fix for it #SUPER sappy FYI #SO ENJOY!#I don't usually write sap (or angst) so I am bad at this #sorry its bad fellas #I GENUINELY could not think of a way for him to fix him becoming her cazador so uh #have a retconn #call this a fast fixer upper lmao

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venomous-ragno · 1 year

Text

How do they cuddle with you, hug you, touch you?

I take requests btw;)

Tags: gn!reader, sfw, fluff fluff and more fluff

Warnings: None~

Masterlist

Ghost isn't much of a cuddler. He lets you do as you please and may wrap an arm around you; when he does pull you close it's tight, desperate almost. His body speaks what words can't as he lets you feel just how much he longs for you, needs you at his side when he's known nothing but solitude for a decade too many. It's especially intimate to him when you fall asleep in his arms; He's not Ghost, but Simon, when he places soft kisses on your forehead then, letting your warmth burn him and all he's meant to be.

Price may be a Captain, but he's also a lover, a partner. He wants to be whatever you need him to be. He's seen his fair share of lovers parting ways for eternity - it comes with his line of work and yet he still walks that path with his head held high. Perhaps that's why he doesn't spare in affection when it comes to you: He kisses, cuddles, loves like it's his last day with you, because it may just be. He couldn't stand passing not having shown his love to you.

Gaz lifts you up like you're naught but a feather; he'll carry and swirl you like the prince charming he is, warming both of your hearts with sweet laughter. He's a cuddler through and through. Gaz hugs you like it's his last day on earth whenever he returns from deployment, not letting you go as he softly sways you back and forth. He may even be daring enough to grab a handful of your ass when he's had his fill (for now), laughing once again when you scold him for doing so.

Soap is an open book to you. He voices his adoration for you on a daily, makes sure you feel so loved and appreciated it'll last you through his next deployment. His hugs come in full and plenty: That military training is put to good use as he sneaks up on you doing laundry, lifting you up with a heartfelt laugh that you can't help but get infected by. He's your sun that makes every rainy day brighter. Especially when he rests his head on your chest, eyes closed, listening to your heartbeat. His favourite tune of all.

König is... Hesitant to touch you at first. Hands reach out but rarely make contact; he gets frustrated at himself. Time and patience is needed, but your unconditional love will be well worth it. When König feels safe with you, little declarations of love come easy to him. When he once couldn't bring himself to pull you close, now he won't let you go, burying his nose deep in your nape. Your smell grounds and calms him. He's nothing short of touch deprived and soaks up every bit of you like he's a starved man.

Alejandro - this constant smolder of a man pulls you to him like your absence pains him. And truly, it does. The void you leave has him insatiable, craving for ever more of you, knowing that it's a cycle he cannot escape from. Not that he wanted to, though. His hugs are protective and warm, caressing your neck and back almost absent mindedly. Once he's gotten used to your arms around him he finds it's hard to sleep without. He'll encourage you to touch him: Fix his hair, hold his hand, let your knee rest against his. It's never enough.

Rodolfo. Sweet, loving Rodolfo gives as he receives. Your hands on him never fail to have him hum, look up from whatever he's doing, "Yes, my love?". He doesn't mind if you're not big on physical affection, though he can't help himself from pressing soft kisses to your skin every now and then. His hugs are soft and he never lets go first. Your hand will be held securely in his whenever you two go out, and sometimes- sometimes his fingers brush your hips before pulling you close. A kiss must follow and Rodolfo smiles against your lips.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #ghost x reader #soap x reader #könig x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #alejandeo x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty headcanons #call of duty x you #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty soap #call of duty ghost

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chiriwritesstuff · 5 months

Text

The Girl in IT - 1. The Night Shift

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal." “Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-" You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No Outbreak! Joel Miller, Mentions of intended smut towards the reader, Boss x Employee Relationship, Virgin Reader, All of the yearning, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, A small-ish age gap, Joel is too forward for his own good, Tess is a boss (and should not be fucked with - or you get the horns).

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Well, hello there!

I honestly have no idea where this idea of a (somewhat crack) fic came from, but I had an idea and I ran with it! A lot of the character development came from my own anxieties of feeling behind in life, and if you feel that way too, I feel you! Don't worry, I promise it won't always feel like this. Time is just that- time, and it's never too late to follow your dreams! I believe in you!

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: I think I have a Virus?

12:50 AM (10 min ago)

Hey Sugar,

I know it's late, but my computer fritzed out an hour ago (a shit ton of pop-ups) and I have that presentation with The H Hotel tomorrow morning. Well, do you think you could do me a solid and help me... not have any more of those darn pop-ups? I called the number that popped up asking if I needed assistance with the virus and they asked for my credit card information but they haven't replied back.

Shit, was that a scam? Fuck. I should call Amex.

Anyway, do you think you can help me get out of this bind, Sugar? I'll be forever and eternally grateful. If you don't, well... I'm sure Tess will rip me a new one, and I would like to not have a Servopoulos-level meltdown at 9 in the morning. Not after last time. Sorry about having to be a part of that, Sugar. At least Maria was able to pay for your dry cleaning and get you a new shirt? You should have let me check your chest for burns, I sure as hell wouldn't want scalding hot coffee being thrown in my direction either. Shit. Not check your chest as in checking out your... breasts, just the burn site. Yeah. That's what I meant.

(Also, sorry for emailing you last minute. Shit. I'm desperate, baby.)

Thanks,

Joel Miller

Owner and CEO, Miller Construction Group

(512) 123-4567

To:[email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: RE: I think I have a Virus?

1 AM (0 seconds ago)

Good Evening Mr. Miller,

I got your request and will work on it shortly. I can't make any promises, but I will try to get you out of your "bind".

Don't worry about that thing with Tess. She was rightfully upset, and I just so happened to be caught in the line of fire. If it had to be one of us, I am glad it was me being pelted with boiling hot coffee, and not you in front of your clients. You didn't have to have Maria buy me a blouse from Neiman Marcus, nothing a little tide-to-go can't fix, right? Also, I knew what you meant about my chest, and I didn't think you wanted to look at my... breasts. Let's not refer to any of my body parts moving forward.

Also, I am not completely comfortable with the terms of endearment that you continuously call me, Sir. Please refer to me by my actual name, these emails are monitored by Tess and I would not like to be scalded with hot coffee again for a little misunderstanding.

Please let me know if you have any other pressing questions or concerns.

Goodnight!

IT Specialist 0926,

IT Department, Miller Construction Group

(512) 765-4321

"Ok Bubbles, let's see what mess Mr. Miller got himself into this time."

Settling by your coffee table, you access your remote portal and insert your portable SSD, initiating various programs to gain entry into your boss's laptop. Securing your hair in a messy top bun with a claw clip, you find yourself biting your bottom lip in concentration. Simultaneously, you switch on your TV, finding solace in the ambient noise that fills your dimly lit apartment—a space shared with Sir Bubbles, your British Shorthair companion since your college days. There's a marathon of Criminal Minds airing on TBS, Spencer Reid's adorable face on screen as he rattles off another theory for why the unsub was an abuse victim by his prostitute mother. You turn the volume down a bit, drowning out his voice.

It's near silent in the little shoebox you call home, the only decent place you were able to afford with your meager savings- after slaving away as a Geek Squad IT Specialist for the majority of your twenties at the Best Buy down the road from your parent's house. Despite graduating with your MIS at the University of Texas - Dallas, finding a decent job in your industry was brutal, and, honestly, quite embarrassing after receiving 30-plus rejection emails in a span of a year. Downtrodden and desperate for a job, you settled on working at Best Buy temporarily, but by the time you hit your mid-30s, it's been eight years working for barely minimum wage, and absolutely nothing to show for it.

"Do you remember those sweet Miller boys who fixed our roof ten years ago?" your mother asks during a Sunday dinner six months ago, sliding a boat of gravy your way as you absentmindedly drizzle it over your mashed potatoes. "I ran into the older one... Joeseph? James? He owns his own company now with his brother, quite the feat, right? They're working on that hotel down the road... anyway, Josh-"

"Joel," you correct her, nudging the over-steamed carrots around your plate. "I think his name was Joel, Mama."

"Yes, Joel," your mother dismissively waves her hands. "Well, I told him about how you were on the job hunt, you know, with your master's and all. Oh, remember when you used to have that silly little crush on him? He's grown to be quite the looker, you know? Anyway, he told me that they were looking for someone to replace their old IT person—apparently, they retired—"

"Mom," you groan, "get to the point."

"Well," she grins conspiratorially, "he wants you to apply, baby. He remembers you and your little crush, and he said he could never forget someone as cute as you. If you're as good as I claimed you were, well... the job's practically yours!"

Your fork slips from your grasp, the metallic clang against porcelain causing Bubbles to leap in surprise, hissing at you in irritation. "Wait, what?" you blurt out, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

Your mother beams at your reaction, seemingly pleased with the bombshell she just dropped. "I told him all about your IT skills and how you practically run the technology world from your bedroom. He seemed really interested, sweetie. And, well, it wouldn't hurt to at least consider it, right?"

You sit there, a swirl of thoughts and emotions whirling in your mind. The unexpected twist of Joel Miller, the older Miller boy you once had a crush on, remembering you and possibly offering you a job—it's surreal. Bubbles, having recovered from the earlier disturbance, casually resumes licking his paw, completely uninterested in the familial drama.

"I... I don't know, Mom," you stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. "I mean, working for the Millers? It's a bit... complicated."

She leans in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetheart, this could be a fantastic opportunity. And who knows, maybe that little crush of yours could turn into something more... professional, of course." She cuts into her meatloaf, humming in contentment as she chews. "Oh, and Sweetie? Wear the red sweater with your pleated skirt, with something other than those sneakers. You're turning thirty-six in September; you can at least do yourself a favor and start dressing your age for once! I'm sure Joel would appreciate it!" she winks at you as your father grunts in displeasure, rolling his eyes, muttering "meddler" under his breath.

"Mom, it was just a crush from a decade ago. Besides, mixing work and personal feelings is never a good idea."

She chuckles, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Well, think about it, okay? Joel seemed genuinely interested in having you on the team. It's worth exploring, don't you think?"

A wink, a handshake, and six months later, you find yourself on-call indefinitely, catering to Mr. Miller's every technological whim and folly. It's not a bad job, you reason — getting paid triple what you made at Best Buy, monitoring everyone's browsing history in the office, and fielding the incessant IT requests Mr. Miller sends your way- which was often. Way too often.

[My laptop won't turn on.] Did you charge it? Try doing that first.

[Why does the volume not work on my Zoom calls?] Did you make sure that you're not on mute or that your computer volume is up? Check that first.

[Since when did we put a parental blocker on the internet?] It was per Tess, who said that employees should be working instead of looking up anti-feminist manifestos on Reddit. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Miller. [Oh, well shit. Do you think you could unblock it for me? I am... having a hard time accessing my... bank account.] I mean- I could, but I would have to run it by Tess first. [Do you think you could... for me? It'll be our little secret, Sugar. Don't worry about Tess, I'll handle her.] Sure, Mr. Miller... Right. Our little secret. [Sugar, for the last time, it's Joel. Besides, I thought we were past having a silly little crush on me, you've grown into a... rather nice young woman. Please, call me Joel.] Uh, sure Mr. Miller.

You are broken from your silent reverie by the unmistakable ding, ding, ding of the pop-ups Joel- Mr. Miller - you correct yourself, mentioned in his email. You scoff, biting into a piece of beef jerky. Typing in a command, the pop-ups halt, the black screen granting you developer access popping up as you run diagnostic after diagnostic trying to catch the little sucker - a virus, as Mr. Miller claimed - in the act of corrupting your poor boss' laptop once again. There you are, you little shit, you mutter under your breath as you furiously type in more commands, eradicating Mr. Miller's bane of existence for good (or so you hope).

After running what felt like the tenth diagnostic of the night and downing three cups of coffee for the last three hours, the dawn of a new day streaks through the sheer curtains against your window. With bated breath, you restart Joel's system once more, closing your eyes until the familiar chime of Windows 11 booting up reaches your ears.

Please, please, please for fucks sake... no more pop-ups...

Joel's home screen pops up in an instant, the photo of him and his two girls smiling back at you as you breathe in a sigh of relief. "Fuck yes! Finally!" you silently exclaim, a drawn-out yawn and a deep stretch escaping your body as you settle your laptop on your couch. "Okay, let's just run a few programs and check a few documents to make sure they're not corrupted and then I can finally hit the sack..." you squint at the digital clock of your microwave, "and sleep for an hour before I have to get ready for work," you groan, eyeing the jar of Cafe Bustelo in the distance. Yep. No sleep for me, you think bitterly. Another night, another one of Mr. Miller's computer meltdowns...

Your eyes scan his desktop, opening up the PowerPoint file he needs for his presentation. It opens up with a slight lag, something you can optimize later but you breathe out another sigh of relief anyway. You check his internet browsing history, his late-night extensive porn viewing not a surprise to you anymore as you snort at the ridiculousness of it all. At least it's not as bad and kinky as Tommy's browsing history, you tell yourself, because you'll never quite get used to all of the roleplay porn he watches religiously, you think. Closing out of Google Chrome, You scan his desktop for a random Word doc for you to open, not checking its title as you double-click on the first one that you see, slightly hidden by the Recycle Bin icon to the bottom right. Wants? What kind of a file name is that?

The Word doc pops open, and it seems to be a running list of random things. You blearily scan the line items, your eyes widening in shock as you read on.

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Spoil her with a shopping spree at Neiman's with my Amex black card.

Fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off of her Birth Control (do you think she's on one?)

Fuck her from behind against Tess' desk (serves her right)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.

Wants.

What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.

What the fuck did I just read?

“Mr. Miller? Do you have a moment?”

You knock on the office door once more for good measure, standing timidly as you try to occupy yourself by smoothing out your dress - sensible, a decent length, work appropriate, you think to yourself. You try to not occupy the idle time of waiting for your boss, Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction- and the thing you found while remote logging onto his computer last night - I think I have a virus, his email stated - only to stumble upon something rather telling and personal - but he was your boss, and you were a professional, and you weren’t going to think about the list…

Kiss her in the rain.

Make love in my truck as she rides me.

Bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

Marathon sex

Eat her out as she works at her desk.

No, Joel was unequivocally your boss—older than you by at least a decade (and maybe a few more years, give or take), and the document titled "Wants" was clearly personal, likely intended for someone else, and certainly not meant to be seen by anyone, especially not an overly curious IT specialist like you. No, you reckon that this list was meant for someone else in the office - someone beautiful, sexy, and confident— someone decidedly who isn't you. Certainly not for someone who dresses like she’s still in college, who only recently began living on her own in a shoebox of an apartment (if you can call it that) after living with her parents for the majority of her adult life, and who barely has her life together. It’s pathetic, being a woman of a certain age and with nothing to show for it, still painfully single, nothing substantial to your name, only getting your life together now while everyone around you has done everything right. I feel so behind in life, you think to yourself. Who would want someone so pathetic as me?

It’s not like it’s a crime to have wants, you think to yourself. Everyone has them, including you, you reason. So what if you just so happen to stumble upon your boss's deepest (and somewhat depraved) desires? Doesn’t everyone have a bucket list of their desires written somewhere? So what if your older, attractive boss with his Gen X tendencies has it typed out on his work computer? It’s not like he meant for you to open up the Word doc, right?

You knew he was single. You also knew that he had kids, at least two—Sarah, his eldest, was the head of HR, and Ellie, his adoptive younger daughter, an apprentice working under Tommy, the other half of Miller Construction—a serial flirt who asked you about your dating life in your interview a few months back. No, you didn’t think about your boss and the sheer mass of man that he was, that he smelled like cedar and sandalwood, that he winks when he tells you good morning as you pass him in the parking lot while stumbling out of your less-than-impressive shitty Corolla. You also didn’t take note that he drinks his coffee black with a sprinkle of sugar—the one in the brown packet—or that he eats in his office instead of the employee lounge because he’s a messy eater. The deep red blush trailing down his neck as Tommy scolded him about his lack of table manners during a company-mandated team-building day wasn't proof enough of that.

There wasn’t a ring on that tell-tale finger, not even a tan line, no photographs of another woman on his desk—besides his daughters, of course. Not that you were looking. Tommy had his wife Maria come down to the office often enough; wouldn’t Joel be the same with his own?

Miller Construction prided itself on being a family-run company, with Joel and Tommy at the helm and their best friend Tess as VP—more the boss than the actual Miller brothers. While Joel and Tommy preferred the hands-on work on-site, Tess ruled over the office with an iron fist. No one dared to cross her.

"You've got one job, and one job only," she declared during your office tour. "Make sure no one spends the majority of their shift watching porn, and keep Joel from messing up his computer with his boomer-isms. We can't afford to keep replacing a laptop every six months."

"Isn't he in Gen X?" you ask. "... at 56 years old, he's still considered to be in that generation, right?"

"Technically, yes," Tess replies with an exasperated sigh. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like Joel is stuck in a time warp with his 'boomer-isms.' Just keep things running smoothly here, alright?"

As the days pass, you notice an unusual trend in Joel's computer issues. It seems that every time his laptop malfunctions, it coincides with a spike in suspicious internet activity. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots, and you can't help but shake your head at the irony of it all.

After a particularly eventful morning filled with more than the usual technical hiccups, you decide it's time to address the elephant in the room. You knock on Joel's office door, half-expecting him to be engrossed in some spreadsheet or construction plans.

It's not like you have to tell him about your snooping - he would be none the wiser judging by the way he was so technologically inept - you weren't about to tell him that the reason for the virus on the computer was because he was looking at some rather specific porn - boss fucks unsuspecting secretary from behind- his internet history had listed, nor did he probably think that his computer is being monitored, including his internet browsing history- company policy, as stated on the employee handbook that every employee of Miller Construction signs on the day of their official hiring- nor does he think that it sends reports to her at the end of the day.

You don't think about how the sudden uptick of his secretary porn viewing increased since a week after your hiring. It's just a coincidence, right?

“Mr. Miller?” You call out once more. “It’s about your IT request last night? I have an update?”

“Yeah? Sorry! Come on in!” you hear from behind the door, accompanied by the frantic shuffle of papers and a silent curse. You take a deep breath as your hand turns the doorknob. Silently, you shut the door behind you, offering a small smile as you smooth out the skirt of your dress once more.

You fidget in place in front of the door as Joel—Mr. Miller—in his green flannel and dark jeans slung just right—it really should be criminal, looking this ruggedly handsome for someone his age, you think—as he ungraciously flops onto his desk chair, motioning for you to take the seat in front of him as he clears his throat nervously. “Take a seat.”

You situate yourself in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes as you fiddle with your hands on your lap, wondering why he, out of all people, would be nervous. It's not like he stumbled upon something so... intimate. You are a professional, and you were only doing your job, you tell yourself like a mantra, trying to ground yourself. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like he would fire you over your accidental snooping, right? You nod to yourself. “So…”

“So…” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a drink of his coffee. “Thank you for taking a look at my computer last night.” He begins, smiling at you. “I know that it was late, and I’m willing to compensate your time by giving you time and a half…”

“Oh,” you nervously reply, shifting in your seat. “No, Mr. Miller—”

“Joel.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Please. We’re all family here. Call me Joel. Mr. Miller is my father for fuck's sake—”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Sure. Joel. Listen, you don’t need to compensate me for last night, let alone give me the overtime rate—”

“I emailed you at midnight; surely you were already busy, or I probably irritated your husband—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you mumble solemnly, “there’s no husband, just me and my cat-“

He barks at that, the laugh so loud it makes you jump in your seat. He gives you a look, almost as if he was relieved with that bit of information. “Well, disturbing your cat, then-“

"Oh," you reply casually, waving your hands in dismissal. "I'm sure Sir Bubbles didn't mind... and I don't sleep much, really—"

"Oh?" He straightens himself, his face serious. "Is it because of all of my requests? Shit. My girls give me such a hard time about not being with the times, I'm not really interested in technology— So no husband? Boyfriend, then?"

"Uh, no," you reply quickly, not eager to delve into the details of your lackluster love life. You clear your throat, adopting a professional demeanor. "Joel, as you're aware—or maybe not," you chuckle nervously, "I receive reports of all employee internet histories at the end of the day. Being the sole IT specialist on your payroll—perks of the job, outlined in my duties—I keep an eye out for any... irregularities."

"Irregularities?" he replies, his demeanor shifting into something resembling guilt. "What are you trying to get at?" he presses.

"Well, I monitor employee computer usage to make sure that they're not... distracted from their work," you reply. "Tess was explicit about not having any employees using company time for any unnecessary personal... dalliances."

Joel gives you a hard look. "Dalliances?"

"Yes, dalliances. Tess told me it was an issue before, with employees browsing social media and visiting questionable Reddit threads?"

"I don't follow," Joel replies. "You gotta spell it out for me, Sugar. What does that have to do with my request last night? I had a late night at the office, and after... checking my emails," he gulps, "I suddenly get bombarded with these pop-up things, so much that I just... unplugged my laptop... and, well-"

How is he so oblivious about this? You bite your cheek in frustration, not knowing how to get to the point without having to spell it out for him that you caught him browsing porn last night, secretary porn at that, and although it's highly inappropriate, you hardly think he was watching it because of Gladys, his actual secretary, who is old enough to be his mother. Not unless he has some weird mommy kink...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, you decide to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. “I’m sorry!” You exclaim, “I didn't mean to look at your browsing history, I mean, I had to, but only because I had to find the reason why a virus got on your computer, but that is not the point! I had to open a file to make sure it wasn't corrupted, and I swear, I didn't mean to open it!"

“Open what, sweetheart?” he smiles at you, leaning forward towards you.

"Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal."

“Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-"

You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Joel visibly pales at your confession. He adjusts his collar, unbuttoning the second button as if he were being strangled by your scrutiny. “I just want to let you know", he starts, looking you in the eye with an unreadable expression. "I respect you as a woman, and Tommy, fuck, he wouldn’t let it go, with all that teasing about you being exactly my type and all, and well, your mother did remind me about your little crush on me back then-“ he rubs his hands through his hair as he rambles on, “… and I know that this looks bad, with you being my employee and all-“

“Wait, what?” You cut him off, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean? I mean, they're your personal preferences, and the list, well, I'm sure whoever you're writing about must be some woman, not that it's any of my business-”

“Fuck. You didn’t read all of it?”

“No!” You exclaim, practically jumping out of your seat. “I quickly closed it once I realized the nature of the document…”

“Well.” He stands up suddenly, pacing behind his desk. “I wrote that drunkenly one night after the company dinner, you know, the one when you wore that dress… do you remember?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily, “… the night where-“

You vividly recall that night. It was a dinner at the recently completed new hotel project. After a few glasses of wine and an impulsive, rather expensive purchase at Nordstrom.com a week prior, you endured most of the evening in an uncomfortably tight and overly revealing dress—a poor choice for a company party, for fucks sake. You believed Joel approached you at the end of the night out of sheer pity, not because—

“Well… after seeing you in that dress, and how stunning you looked in it, sitting by yourself, biting your lip in a way that makes me-“ he stops himself, giving you a small smile. “I was drunk, and I was thinking… I was contemplating how, if I were to have you, if you, by some miracle of fate… were interested, that I would do things right, you know? That if I had a second chance at… I would do it right. Treat you right.”

“You do know I’m not a secretary, let alone your secretary,” you roll your eyes. “I’m in IT… the only person in IT actually, and you’re not the first person I caught looking at questionable porn…”

Joel bristles at that. “Shit. Let me guess… Tommy?”

That gets a small smile out of you. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but… he’s partial towards a certain porn actress, and let’s just say he is really in love with women who looks like his wife.”

He smiles. "Shit, I thought I was being obvious enough, being that Tommy has teased me about it enough... I thought you knew. I know you work with computers, Sugar. I’m not completely senile, and I know Tess has been on a warpath about people getting their rocks off at work, I figured you would look at all of my… perusing.”

You're left stunned, your mind racing to process what Joel just revealed. It's not the revelation about his desires that leaves you speechless, but the unexpected admission of his feelings toward you. Your mind flashes back to the list, the desires that seemed so out of reach for someone like you. You never thought Joel would be harboring any feelings for you, let alone express them so openly.

"I... I had no idea," you stammer, still grappling with the revelation. "I thought that list was for someone else, someone... not me."

Joel walks around the desk, his eyes never leaving yours. "You thought wrong, sweetheart. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I've been subtler than I thought."

A myriad of emotions wash over you — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something you can't quite place. The professional boundary between boss and employee seems to blur, and you find yourself in uncharted territory.

"But," he continues, "I get it. I'm your boss, and this is complicated. I didn't want to put you in an awkward position. I should've been more direct."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, it's not about being direct or indirect. This is just... unexpected. I never thought someone like you would... feel that way about someone like me."

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. "Someone like me? What does that even mean, darlin'? You're intelligent and beautiful, and I've seen the way you handle your work. I've noticed you, and I can't help how I feel."

A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes makes it hard to doubt his words. You start to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your insecurities have clouded your perception.

"I don't want to pressure you, and I understand if you're not comfortable with this. I just needed you to know. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward at work," he says, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You take a moment to absorb everything. Joel's revelation, your preconceptions, and the unexpected turn of events. The office, once a familiar space, now feels like uncharted territory.

"I need time to process this," you finally say. "It's a lot to take in, Joel. I never expected... any of this."

He nods understandingly, his hand dropping to his side. "Take all the time you need. I'll respect whatever decision you make. And hey, if you're not interested, we can go back to being boss and employee, like nothing happened."

You manage a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll... let you know. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Of course," he says, moving back toward his desk. "And, for what it's worth, I meant every word on that list. Whether it's a rain kiss or making love in my truck, I want it all with you."

You nod, silently acknowledging his sincerity. As you leave his office, you can't help but wonder how a routine IT request led to such a revelation. The office dynamics have shifted, and you find yourself navigating uncharted waters, unsure of where this unexpected revelation will lead.

As you walk away from Joel's office, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts consumes your mind. The revelation about Joel's feelings for you is a shock, but it's not the only thing echoing in your head. The list of desires he had penned down only magnifies your own insecurities. The voice in your mind grows louder, whispering that you're not the woman he deserves—too much of a mess, too behind in life, and certainly not beautiful enough for someone like him. The echoes of your perceived inadequacies replay like a broken record, drowning out the possibility that someone could genuinely see something valuable in you. You glance at your reflection in the office window, critiquing every imperfection, every perceived flaw. The dress that seemed sensible before now feels like a sad attempt to disguise what you believe is a lack of style or grace. The weight of self-doubt becomes an invisible burden, and you can't shake the feeling that you're not enough, that you may never be enough for someone like Joel.

As you grapple with your internal struggles, a small spark of defiance begins to flicker within you. Perhaps it's time to challenge those self-limiting beliefs, to be bolder than your insecurities allow. Joel's admission has opened a door you never expected, and you find yourself at a crossroads. Despite the echoes of doubt, a newfound courage whispers that maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what you perceive.

Embracing this sudden surge of determination, you make a decision. Instead of letting fear dictate your actions, you choose to confront the uncertainties head-on. Swallowing the apprehension that threatens to hold you back, you turn on your heel and head back to Joel's office. The faint thud of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears as you push open the door.

"Joel," you say, your voice steadier than you anticipated. "I've been thinking about what you said, and I need you to clarify something for me."

He looks up from his desk, curiosity etched across his features. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, suppressing the self-doubt that still lingers. "Is that list something you genuinely desire with me, or was it just a drunken fantasy?"

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, a mix of surprise and sincerity in his gaze. "Every word of it is something I want with you. Why?"

A daring smile plays on your lips as you respond, "Then let's not leave it as a list, Joel. Let's see how many of those desires we can turn into reality."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment as Joel's expression shifts from surprise to a slow, understanding smile. The air thickens with anticipation, leaving the next steps uncertain but filled with the promise of something new and exhilarating. As you stand on the precipice of this unexpected journey, the uncharted waters of possibilities lie ahead, and you find yourself ready to take the plunge.

Taglist: @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115

For more updates on all of my fics, please follow @chiriwritesstuffnotifs

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#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfic

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ficnation · 7 months

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Chapter 4: Bon Appétit

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, 18+, SMUT A/n: I'm really putting off the inevitable here sksksksk. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3 Btw this is my first time writing explicit smut (unedited)

This is also another late piece to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: proposal) - > Events Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

When Will comes home that night after promising you he’ll only be gone for a few hours, he’s doing anything in his power not to look you in the eyes. He kept his word, coming back exactly three hours and twenty-six minutes later. You stare at him, intrigued. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, but your mind screams at you that it can’t be anything good—it’s right, like always.

“I resumed my therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he informs you after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. He still doesn’t look at you, as he takes off his jacket and boots.

“You did what?” You blink at him in confusion—utterly dumbfounded. The meaning of his words doesn’t even register in your brain.

“I’m going to keep on seeing Hannibal,” Will repeats in the same monotonous voice.

It hits you like a train, and your stomach churns at the thought of them sitting across from each other, talking about emotions and Will’s life. Your expression turns to one of disapproval as the man expected.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he put you through, why would you do that?”

Will doesn’t respond right away, and you can tell he’s struggling with his words. “There are things I need to learn about myself,” he says finally. “About what it’s like to be me.”

You stare at him, burning invisible holes in his head, trying to decipher what is truly happening here. The guilt that emanates from his person, the fact that he still can’t meet your gaze—it’s more than suspicious. The realization hits you even harder than the fact he wants to be anywhere near Hannibal Lecter.

“Why are you lying to me?” you ask, voice on the verge of breaking. You hate yourself for ever thinking that he trusts you completely after all those years apart. The tears gathering in your eyes are more angry than sorrowful.

For a moment, Will goes silent. The silence is thick, full of tension as the two of you remain in your positions—you watching him, and him with his back turned to you.

Then, he closes his eyes tightly, as if fighting against a headache. He finally speaks, but only after turning slowly to face you. You immediately notice the pained expression on his face, the guilt that drips from his very skin.

“I have to keep seeing him.”

You go to protest again, but the sound of your voice cracks, and no words emerge. Will doesn’t wish to ever hear this noise from you again. It feels criminal—being the one who caused it. His heart breaks in a way it never did before—it stings like someone delivered it one thousand cuts.

You both remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Will doesn’t look away from you, and your eyes are locked on him, on that misery and pain staring right at you. No one moves, no one blinks, no one probably even breathes. Everything is still, except for your heart which aches even worse than it did before. The silence gets so thick you can almost feel it—touch it. For the life of you, you don’t want to be the one to break it.

You want to speak, beg, convince him to stop these mind games, to give you an explanation you could understand. But you choose to keep your mouth shut, slumping further into the cushions of the armchair.

Will’s eyes don’t leave you. They remain fixed on you as if willing you to speak, to tell him something that would make all of this suddenly go away. Anything.

He wants you to read his mind, and understand his pleas, but you can’t— and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You don’t do anything, don’t even move a muscle and after a few moments of waiting, Will finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t want him to do this to anyone else,” he says. His words are soft and quiet, but they carry a weight that you feel in your chest.

“Yet you didn’t start with that. You chose to lie.”

Will sighs. He looks exhausted as if you’ve been here asking him questions for hours, even though it’s been twenty minutes at most.

“I didn’t want you to stop me. There, I said it,” he says. “It was hard. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Can you just cut me some slack over here?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know what to think or what to say about this whole situation. It seems absurd, and you have to remind yourself that you might’ve paused your story with Will Graham, but for him time has passed, things have changed.

You’re not proud of the words that leave you next. God, you wish you could just catch them in the air before they have a chance to reach his ears and put them back in your mouth.

“Change your fucking tone, Will.”

You’re shocked with your own words, but Will doesn’t seem annoyed or offended, not like most people would. He’s still staring at you, but you notice the slightest hint of amusement in his expression as if this new side of you intrigued him rather than annoyed him.

“You don’t like me speaking to you like that, my dear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He makes no attempts to sound serious—just enough to make you laugh, but his words carry weight. He’s genuinely curious.

Will Graham just called you “my dear” and your whole face warms up at this term of endearment as you observe him fall to one knee in front of your person.

“What are you doing?” you choke out, confused, butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest.

Will takes his time to reply, his eyes scanning you and your reactions. He seems to enjoy the sight of you flustered, barely keeping up with what’s happening right in front of your face. His heart skips a beat more than twice in the span of a few seconds.

“I’m proposing.”

The words seem so absurd that you half expect him to break the tension with a quick joke, but he doesn’t. His gaze is glued to you, his words as serious as they can be. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react. Your mind is frozen.

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will grins at that and shakes his head as if he’d expected your reaction to be no different. He keeps his stance, one knee on the floor, as he stares at you affectionately—with so much love you’re surprised he doesn’t explode from it. The man is enjoying your confusion and the fact that he managed to pull it out of you. He’s not ashamed to admit it, either.

“That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” he says quietly and in a matter of time, his hand is on your thigh, tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric of your pajama pants. “You were always going to say no for the first time.”

You blink at him, trying to coax out words from within you, but you don’t find any. That only makes you even more confused, and your expression turns to a frown. Is he really… asking you to marry him?

“I know, I’m quite the romantic.” He pauses, trying to stifle his chuckle. “Do you want me to ask you the usual way?”

“Will, are you serious?” you ask, your voice so gentle the words barely sound like they’re yours. Will only nods his head. “I don’t want you to ask at all. I want us to get married as soon as possible.”

He reaches down to grab your hands in his. “I never believed in marriage. I’m not sure if I do now either,” he admits awkwardly, playing with your fingers. “But I really want to hear people call you Mrs. Graham.”

Your heart jumps as he speaks as if you’d been waiting for him to admit those words for years. The words sink in slowly and your eyes become distant, as if you’d been taken back in time. A warm feeling spreads across your chest like you just swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one ginormous gulp.

“You know I can’t say no.” Your words are quiet and soft. He pulls you down onto his lap, his hands still around your fingers as he brings them to his chest. “Can I call you mine too?”

“Always,” Will replies, his voice low and quiet, but full of love and emotion. “It’s been you all along.”

A soft smile rests on your face as you look down at him. Your head is right above his, but you decide to close the tiny distance between you by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. You feel your heart race as you do so.

“Did you come up with this to distract me?” Your voice is playful, but the air around you is thick and humid.

Will leans forward and wraps his arms snugly around your waist, hugging you tight. Your fingers play with his curls, his head back on your chest. The whole weight of him hangs onto you like all the sins in the world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, even though he seems serious.

You can feel his body shift, and suddenly Will presses you firmly against the growing hardness inside his jeans. The whimper that pushes past your lips as you feel it through the thin layer of your pajama pants is downright desperate. You both can’t hide the fact that your breaths are becoming more irregular, muscles tensing under each other’s hands.

“I like being distracted like this,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against his temple.

A low growl comes from the man’s chest. You’re close enough to the source of the sound to feel the vibration against your body. He presses his face to your neck, taking in the scent of your skin like he’s oxygen-deprived.

“Should I distract you too, Will?” you ask him quietly, tugging at his tousled hair.

“You’ve done enough, dear. I’m already distracted.” His voice is soft, and his words catch in his throat. Will doesn’t seem to have a single rational thought going through his head. It’s like all he can process is his need for you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a spell cast on him. “I want you.” His hand moves to your hip, and he presses into you harder, your breath catching in your throat. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him of anything his soul could ever want or need? You don’t wait for more encouragement as your fingers start working on hastily unbuttoning his shirt. They trace the smooth lines of his chest, the scars that mark his skin, and every little detail of him—every part of his history that he once saw as a defect. It’s not. It’s who he is, who he’s always been—his past is a part of what made him the Will you know and love.

Your fingers slowly make their way down to his belt and unclasp it too in one go. You graze over his hardness on accident, already feeling its heat through the thin layer. You let out a whimper and your whole brain starts to short-circuit.

“Slowly.” Will’s voice is hoarse and raw, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of your hip. “I want to see you.”

The man doesn’t waste any time in waiting for your reaction as his hand moves up to your face. His touch is gentle as it pushes back your hair, his fingertips rubbing against the skin behind your ear before they start pursuing the shape of your neck—every muscle and tendon.

“Slowly,” he repeats, and you can’t help but groan.

Nevertheless, you obey, letting your hands explore every surface of his flesh again like he’s the perfect puzzle that you need to solve. His own mirror yours, sliding below the thin layer of your t-shirt, grazing over your navel, and pushing upwards.

Every move you make leaves its mark, causing his body to tremble even more. His breath becomes so uneven, you think he might fall apart at any moment. The mere sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, like that,” he mumbles, and his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers these words. His hand moves again and starts to tug at your shirt.

You help him remove it in one go, left in only your plaid pajama bottoms. Will’s touch is familiar, one you could never forget—not like the dozen strangers through the past few years, you never even remembered their faces come tomorrow morning. But his touch sets you ablaze—burns and soothes at the same time, it’s unforgettable.

Will reaches up to pull your head against his so that you’re staring straight at one another. His touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity to it that you can’t mistake. His lips slowly approach yours with such an intense need that you can read it in his gaze. Even though he doesn’t say it, you feel that this kiss is more than just desire—it’s a need to be as close to you as possible, to never let you go again. His tongue delves inside your mouth, and you sigh into it.

The feeling of your skin pressed against his leaves Will desperate, his mind so overwhelmed and in a haze, he can’t even form the words to describe the sensation. His hand keeps moving as if your flesh were an addiction. The sound that leaves from his throat is something so close to a purr—he’s almost embarrassed.

You feel his body tensing, his muscles flexing against yours, and your skin feels hot and all too sensitive. He’s taking advantage of this moment to touch you anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave no inch of your skin unexplored as he slowly begins to lower your pajama bottoms.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The sound of your voice draws Will’s eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

Will’s fingers glide down toward your legs, and he looks as if all his dreams are coming true at once. You see his eyes flicker open, and he looks at you with such intensity, such concentration, that it’s hard to breathe as you’re pulled along by an invisible force. He finally lets go of your chin so that he can drag your pajamas down further until they’re thrown across the room.

You take his hands in yours, placing them over your breasts. And it’s only when his teeth drag across your neck, from just above your collarbone down to the crook of your shoulder, that he loses it completely.

There’s no being slow or gentle when he pushes you away, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You take hurried steps back as he nudges you toward the bed. Soon enough, your calves hit the mattress and you fall back onto the blue duvet. You don’t even have a chance to take a breath, Will is hovering over you, elbows on each side of your head.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking deep into your eyes—so deep you’re afraid he can see the broken soul behind them.

You help him push his jeans and boxers down the length of his legs. The second they’re no longer an obstacle, Will’s fingers delve between your thighs, circling your clit teasingly with the gentlest of touches. Your lips part in a gasp, hands falling onto the covers to clench them in your fists.

“Will, please,” you plead between whimpers. He was the only one who could ever bring you to the point of begging, and you hope he knows it somewhere deep within.

The man faces you with glassy eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lips. He doesn’t need you to say anything more, he just nods feverishly and lets your fingers guide him inside. The sensation of your heat gripping him tightly makes him groan, lips falling agape. You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing them behind his back, and pull him even closer.

“Will,” you moan his name against his lips.

It spurs him on, makes him even more eager to please you. He draws back almost completely, then buries himself inside you again in one smooth motion. Your thighs tremble visibly, and it almost makes him smile. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, fingers tugging on his curls.

Will rocks into you deep and steady, one of his hands digging into the meat of your thigh with so much force it hurts—but goddamn, you love this kind of pain. And he makes it feel even more heavenly when his thumb begins to trace circles over your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to take you over the edge—hard and fast—turning you into a mindless, hot, whimpering mess. You mumble his name over and over again as your heat pulses around his length, making him come just a few moments after you. He claims your mouth with his, making you taste your name on his lips. God, does it taste heavenly.

Night came quicker than you realized, covering the sky with bright stars and a full moon. Despite it, it’s not pitch black outside. The shimmering snow reflects the shining lights, fighting off the darkness well enough. It doesn’t make you feel any less threatened, even though it should.

You’re wrapped only in the blue duvet that covered the bed, as you lie on your side, facing Will, who’s already asleep. His bare thigh is right against yours, and the heat of his skin is almost impossible to resist. You let your eyes wander across his body, his physique—he looks like a sculpture, a masterpiece of flesh and bone.

Your body still aches from his touch, and you feel like you’re a puddle of emotions with the sole mission of holding love, affection, and desire for him. You’re about as far away from being “fine” as possible. You didn’t even get a chance to tell him you’ll be working together from now on. He doesn’t know he’s allowed back in BAU, and you wonder if you should leave him unknowing for as long as possible. It’s not your greatest idea, but the idea of him breaking beyond repair terrifies you.

You try to calm your heart as it races and skips a beat every time his body shifts—the smallest movement seems like it could wake him up. But as you lie there in the darkness, his hand reaches out and finds its rightful place on your thigh again, his fingers barely grazing your skin. The sensation makes you almost jump out of your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you awake?” he asks with half-closed eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply softly, wanting to touch him back, but not sure if you should.

“I figured,” he murmurs. “You didn’t sleep much yesterday either.”

You sigh sadly, you didn’t think he’d noticed. His hand moves up your thigh, almost instinctively, until it touches you just below your hip. It stops there, and your eyelashes flutter at its warmth against your skin.

“You can touch me.” Will’s voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your fingers slip under the duvet, so the fabric doesn’t block your touch, and you begin to trace the outline of his leg with the tips of your fingers. Will’s eyes finally open, and he looks almost nervous at the intimate touch—until you find the spot where he’s ticklish. He lets out an adorable whimper, so naturally, you laugh and keep going.

“No, no, please stop,” Will moans, trying to fight back his chuckles, squirming as he tries to get away from your touch. The whole time he’s half-smiling, his fingers digging into the duvet for stability. He tries to grab your hands, but it only makes you laugh harder.

You find another ticklish spot on the side of his torso and continue to tease him. Eventually, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch Will scoot back, out of your reach. Your sour mood from before is gone in an instant.

Will moves up so that he’s sitting up against the wall, practically on the edge of the bed, and he looks almost offended by your reaction. Your gaze shifts, so you can get a fuller view of him.

“I’m not as ticklish as you think,” he says, his tone serious, though you can still hear a tremble in his voice. “If you wanted to see me squirm,” he adds, “you could’ve found a different method.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you immediately pull the sheets up to cover the bottom part of your face, trying to hide your flustered reaction from his eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he says, his voice just a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that anything above a murmur could wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace. “So adorable.”

Will’s hand rests on your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that cover your ears. You can feel him studying you—how your nose twitches and your eyes almost close as you wait for his next words. Something about it feels intimate as if he’s taking in every detail of your expression one by one. It’s been a while since he’s done that, you didn’t even realize how much you missed it.

“You can pull it down, you know,” he says playfully, his hand still in your hair. “This must be suffocating.”

“I know,” you say quietly, as you pull the sheets down from your face.

Will’s fingers interlace with yours, and you can feel his thumb circling your wrist.

“And yes, it is a bit suffocating.” You pull the sheets down to your collarbones, and a chill runs through your body as the cold air touches your arms. “Maybe you can warm me up.”

Will smiles—a small, sweet smile, with a bit of mischief thrown in. “Maybe I can,” his tone is playful as he pulls you close, your cheek finding a home on his chest, right above his heart.

After a few long minutes of silence and listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, you turn to face him, resting your chin above his pec.

“We’re back on the team, you know?” you mumble almost mindlessly.

Will looks down at you, his expression gentle as he caresses your hair.

“I know.”

His gaze trails down your face and lingers on your lips for a brief moment before it shifts again. There are so many things Will wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it—he fears it would ruin these quiet, peaceful moments between you two.

You don’t question how he already knows that, choosing instead to voice your other thoughts—ones that’ve been on your mind almost the whole day. “What did Alana want from you?”

Will’s hand pauses against your face when you bring up her name, and for a moment he seems speechless, which is rare a thing for him.

“I…” He trails off but then speaks again as if he’s found the courage to say the words. “Alana wants me to stay away from Hannibal,” he says quietly, his fingers moving on your cheeks, your brows, your chin, as if his hand isn’t allowed to stay still for a second without touching the flesh it can. “She’s sleeping with him.”

“Why does she want you to stay away?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

You don’t even blink at his confession, there’s no fear in your gaze—no ounce of surprise. There was a time in your life when this revelation would’ve shocked you, broken you in half, but after your father’s death, when you’re faced with it, it’s… easy to handle. Will expected this kind of indifference, he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t judge nor be afraid.

“How?”

Will lets your question hang in the air for a long minute before he speaks. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Not by my hand—not like that,” he starts. “Hannibal has a lot of… a lot of hold over me,” he pauses again, “he made me want to do it.” It’s probably the most vulnerable, the most genuine explanation Will has given anyone. He’s speaking to you from the heart and in pure honesty. “An opportunity fell on my lap to send someone after him, so I took it.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment—it makes sense to you. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

A hint of a smile appears on Will’s face. He moves his fingers to the nape of your neck and to caress the lines of your ear—it’s something he always used to do when he was thinking and you were nearby. “Alana’s very upset with me.”

Will’s other hand slides over your thigh, his fingers teasing the skin, almost as if he was trying to test it, like a cat with a piece of string. He’s still thinking when his hand starts to move upwards, closer to your hip.

“Don’t take it to heart,” you advise him, leaving a soothing peck on his jaw. It was the best you could do.

“I’m trying.” He laughs in a low rumble, his hand moving between your legs and your whole body tenses. “I’m trying,” he says again.

The touch is so soft and gentle—almost teasing, yet your body seems to be craving it. It makes him nervous, but also excited, and when he closes his eyes his head just falls back to rest against the wall, his teeth showing as he breathes in deeply.

“Would you have done this if I…” his words trail off into silence as the man doesn’t seem certain about how to finish his sentence. He looks at you, his face revealing all the questions that he doesn’t dare to ask.

You grasp his jaw between your hands, encouraging him to speak his mind, but being unconditionally patient at the same time. He tries to say something again, then changes his mind. It’s as if he’s playing a constant game with you, trying to reach into your mind without opening his mouth like most people do.

“If you…”

“If I was still the same,” he mumbles out finally.

“Will, you are still the same person. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but it’s still you.”

Will stays silent and still for a minute with his eyes closed, his hand still between your legs. The tips of his fingers keep barely touching you, almost a caress, although a bit harsher than before. His lids flutter open, so you can see his face as it’s lit by the moonlight.

“There’s something I’d like you to promise,” he says cautiously as if every word is carefully thought out before he speaks it aloud. “Promise me that you’ll keep trusting in me... even if you don’t understand.”

Will’s hand moves up from between your legs so that he can touch your waist and hold you in place. The fingers of his other hand stroke your face down to the side of your neck, and you can feel how your heart starts to beat faster and faster with each touch.

“I will always trust you, Will. Just never lie to me again, have a little faith in me too.”

Will lets his eyes fall down to your lips again, and he can’t help but bite his own in response. As if he was trying to hold himself together but the urge to kiss you was almost too strong, the way his gaze kept shifting.

When his lips touch yours—it’s a long, slow kiss, deep and gentle at the same time. He holds you in place, your hips pressed against his as if he doesn’t want you to move, even a centimeter. And you don’t dream of being anywhere else but here—by his side.

“I love you, Will.”

#eat your heart out #smut #mdni #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannigram #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #will graham

607 notes · View notes

thisonehere · 8 months

Text

The webs we weave

You are the weaver, once a mere mortal(???) who centuries ago challenged Liu Kang to a weaving competition. The loser had to grant a request from the winner. Spoiler alert: you won. Your request: Immortality and eternal youth and beauty. The usual. Nowadays you are known across the realms for your work... among other things.

Shang Tsung, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Kitana, Mileena, & Liu Kang

A/N: Serious intros mixed with flirting and just the right amount of almost-smut. Be sure to send any other ideas you might have.

Shang Tsung

Y/n: Does my skill flatter you, sorcerer?

Shang Tsung: It amuses, maybe I'll let you live after all.

Shang Tsung: I must say, now that I see your work in person. It's quite... mediocre.

Y/n: Mediocre? MEDIOCRE?

Shang Tsung: That Liu Kang lost to you speaks volumes.

Y/n: I can say the same about you losing to him.

Y/n: You're... you're very charming for a villain.

Shang Tsung: Do I make you weak in the knees, Y/n?

Shang Tsung: That silk coat you made me had acidic venom in the fibers!

Y/n: *grins* Oops.

Y/n: The silk sheets have been crafted as you requested.

Shang Tsung: Excellent, now I just need you on them to make it complete.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao: I need a new costume, something that matches my greatness.

Y/n: Of course, I think I have some leftover pieces of scrap from Raiden.

Kung Lao: You know what, I like you.

Y/n: *rolls eyes* Wow, thank you so much. Your validating me makes me feel so special.

Y/n: What would you like me to make you?

Kung Lao: A nice, big, soft cover. We'll need it for our honeymoon.

Kung Lao: Why do you have so many spiders?

Y/n: I like having company as I spin my threads.

Y/n: Keep you and your hat out of my workshop!

Kung Lao: Oh come on, all I did was accidentally cut some of the work that took you years to complete.

Kung Lao: You should come with me to Madam Bo's.

Y/n: NO. My tab with her is big enough.

Johnny Cage

Johnny: If I knew spiders could be so hot, I'd still smash them all day.

Y/n: I'll never forgive you for killing Gunter!

Johnny: I've got this sweet idea for a new look.

Y/n: Of course, but I'll need your measurements... I need you to get naked, Johnny.

Johnny: Just so you know, I'm cool with doing nudity.

Y/n: Johnny, I'm a weaver, not a sculptor.

Johnny: You got to become my costume designer, we'd kill it on the red carpet.

Y/n: That would be a dream, Johnny!

Johnny: Y/n..that's such a beautiful name. It almost makes me want to sing.

Y/n: Please don't, your musical flopped for a reason.

Johnny: I don't think Christina will ever come back.

Y/n: Remember Johnny, I'll be here for you...With open arms, open legs, and an open mouth.

Bi-Han

Y/n: I'll make nothing for you!

Bi-Han: Good, I want you, not your talents.

Bi-Han: You are living proof of Liu Kang's incompetence.

Y/n: Says the man who lost to two farmers.

Bi-Han: I was holding back against Raiden and Kung Lao.

Y/n: Oh, Bi-Han, you don't need to lie to impress me.

Bi-Han: I'll freeze your little insects and leave you defenseless.

Y/n: A. They're Arachnida, B. Pick up a book, and C. Some of us like the cold.

Y/n: Your bed must be so cold.

Bi-Han: Come lay in it with me and find out.

Bi-Han: Let me guess, you think your love can "fix me"?

Y/n: Who said I wanted to fix you?

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang: Your growing relationship with Bi-Han is concerning.

Y/n: Oh Kuai, don't tell me you're getting jealous.

Y/n: Come to me, Scorpion. I burn for you.

Kuai Liang: You've been spending too much time with Johnny.

Y/n: Perhaps you and I coul-

Kuai Liang: I'm sorry, but I'm spoken for.

Kuai Liang: Harumi loved the tapestry.

Y/n: Only the best for her.

Y/n: Are sure?

Kuai Liang: The feeling I had for you are gone now.

Kuai Liang: What have you been planning?

Y/n: Just a little present for your wedding, specifically for the honeymoon.

Kitana

Kitana: Can I hope to have your loyalty in my ongoing battle with Shao?

Y/n: I guess we both shall see.

Kitana: You beat Lord Liu Kang!?

Y/n: Of course, when it comes to combat he is my superior, but no man can best me in my craft.

Kitana: I must say, the stories about you do not do your talents or your beauty justice.

Y/n: What exactly do those stories say?

Kitana: Have you ever considered silk worms rather than spiders?

Y/n: *blech* Never, they're gross, slow, and squishy, and worse, they're all gossips.

Y/n: I already have the train ready, just needs some more embroidery.

Titan Kitana: Train? Are you making me a wedding dress?

Y/n: You and Liu Kang are so cute together.

Titan Kitana: I thank you for being so approving, but our relationship is really none of your business.

Mileena

Y/n: Why do you stare, Empress?

Mileena: I don't know, something about all those bugs around you seems...familiar...

Mileena: Your ascension to the plain of the immortals is most admirable.

Y/n: Perhaps there are some things I may be able to teach you Empress.

Mileena: Are you making wedding attire for Titan Kitana and Lord Liu Kang?

Y/n: Of course, but don't be jealous, I already have something special for you and Tanya.

Mileena: Perhaps you may stay a bit longer, teach me some of your trade.

Y/n: Of course, Empress.

Mileena: *Bloodlusted* I will rip your tongue out from through your cheek!

Y/n: Ooohhhh, cheeky.

Mileena: When I am done with you I will burn all your work to ashes for what you did!

Y/n: No, please! Mercy, MERCY!!!

Liu Kang

Y/n: You knew I'd win?

Liu Kang: I can recognize talent when I see it.

Y/n: Why did you accept my challenge even though you knew you'd lose?

Liu Kang: I was hoping for a chance to be near you.

Y/n: Who is this D'vorrah? Geras said I reminded him of her.

Liu Kang: Nothing should concern you.

Liu Kang: Please, I ask you, keep your distance from raiden.

Y/n: Why? Worried that I'll tempt your little champion?

Liu Kang: You made me a wedding dress?

Y/n: Of course, I see you as much more of a dress-wearing type of man rather than a boring old tuxedo.

Liu Kang: Be careful, Y/n, your hubris can lead to your downfall.

Y/n: What is wrong with showing a little pride in my work?

599 notes · View notes

ailithnight · 1 year

Text

Aheem... prompt from @regonold

16 Hours

Danny remembers the first time something shorted out his powers. Vlad with his stupid Plasmius Maximus thing. Well, 'remembers'. Mostly he remembers the aftermath.

Apparently Vlad hadn't known at the time exactly how Danny ended up half ghost. He thought it had been a slower progression like his own development. It hadn't occurred to him that Danny's original death had been much quicker.

Danny remembers a short, light shock. Really, the spector deflector was worse. But this shock... suddenly his muscles were seizing, his heart stuttering, his Lichtenbergs burning. And then, nothing. A blank space in Danny's head that apparently spanned 3 hours.

Next thing he knows, they're in some kind of vehicle. There are sirens outside (a police escort, Danny would later learn). His mom is driving like her life depends on it. And Vlad is giving him chest compressions, looking grieved and panic striken. He's crying. They both are.

"Please tell me you didn't have to kiss me." His voice comes out pained and raspy. Mom almost crashes the vehicle.

"No, Little Badger. Thankfully, you kept breathing. Just your heart that was struggling." Vlad chuckled, guilty yet relieved.

It was another hour before they made it to the nearest hospital from the stupid hunting cabin. 6 more for all the stupid medical tests. "An accident," Vlad told them. "Small shock, but with an already weak heart..."

Any other time, Danny might have argued. Tried to make Vlad admit more guilt. But the whole ordeal had exhausted him to much to care then.

The second time was marginally better. At least with the Fenton Crammer, it was a steady loss. And Danny managed to fix it before his healing factor fully failed. It still hadn't been pleasant, fighting Skulker and dealing with Dash while phantom echoes of his death arced across his body. But he'd managed.

This. This is so much worse. Danny thought it would be like the Crammer again. A steady decline. But it isn't.

And it isn't like the Maximus either, a one then done, pain then nothing, dying then dead, moment.

No. This is more like the blood blossoms. This is torture. This is hell.

The suppression cuffs let just enough of his power bleed through, just enough healing factor, to keep him alive. Alive and in agony for... hours? Days? Weeks? Minutes? Danny couldn't really tell. His thoughts had long since turned to nothing but static and pain. All he knew was that time was passing around him while he was here, suffering on the absolute brink of death yet unable to embrace it.

Oh god he wanted to die. Please just let him die already! It's too much. A death that should only last a few seconds drug out into an eternity. His muscles ached with the strain of being locked up. His insides were broiling from the electric heat. His heart stuttered and stopped and started and stuttered. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

He might have been screaming. He might have been Wailing. Or he might he been choking on weak uneven breaths. Danny didn't know. Didn't care to know. Didn't care if he ever found out the details of his time in chains. He just wanted, no needed, it to end. But it just dragged on and on and on. And Danny was lost in it.

Too far gone to even realize when it ended.

Batman hadn't been there when the new meta appeared, quite literally materializing from nowhere in the conference room mid-meeting. He had been dealing with a mass Arkham breakout at the time. So he wasn't there. An unfortunate fact which will haunt him for the rest of his life and possibly beyond.

He should have been there. If he had only been there...

He didn't blame his team mates. They didn't know. Who would have guessed that simple power suppression cuffs could ever be an instrument of torture. He'd never considered it possible.

He didn't blame his team mates. How could he blame them? Batman wasn't even the one to connect the dots. Red Robin figured it out. He always was good at stringing together thoughts know one else would think to connect.

Red Robin asked the right questions. He figured out in 5 minutes what the rest of the league and the best doctors -not technically- on earth had been agonizing over for 16 hours.

16 hours too long.

He should have been here. Should have come sooner.

"Don't know, B!" Flash had met him at the Zetas, already rambling at top speed before he could reorient himself after teleportation. Everyone else had gone home, unable to help and needing to tend to their own cities and responsibilities.

"He just- He appeared out of nowhere while we were in meeting. Didn't trip any alarms or nothing. Just popped up. We figured it had to be teleportation, but he'd have to know where the Watchtower was to do that.

So we figured, you know, random kid teleporting into the Watchtower during a Justice League meeting. Not good. Big threat. Bats would tell us to detain. So we did.

But before we could get him to a holding cell, there was this flash of light and he changed or something. He had white hair and green eyes and some sort of jumpsuit on when he appeared.

But after the light he had black hair and a t-shirt and jeans and I actually didn't see his eyes cause he just collapsed on the spot.

Started convulsing or seizing or something. And screaming. God, B, the screaming... So we took him to medbay and...

He's dying B. He has to be. He's got a fever that keeps spiking and dropping, his muscles keep spasming, and his heart keeps giving out...

He looks 14. He looks like..."

Flash had trailed off there, as they reached medbay. Bruce understood his reluctance to complete that sentence as soon as he saw the boy.

He looks like a Robin.

Like all 4 of his sons combined.

Like someone mixed Dick's and Jason's faces and put it on Tim's body at Damian's age.

It can't even be a trick. The suppression cuffs are nullifying his abilities. This is what he truly looks like.

His sons.

In pain.

In agony for 16 hours because Batman prioritized Gotham over an emergency on the Watchtower.

"When exactly did you say he collapsed."

"When we were moving him to a holding cell after we caught him. He was a trick to catch too. He-"

Red Robin cut him off. "Yeah, sure. But when exactly did this start. What happened immediately before?"

Flash was less then pleased about being interrupted, but acquiesced after a look from Batman. Tim had an idea. Tim was on to something. "Like I said, just after we caught him and got the cuffs on so he'd stop slipping away again."

Bruce couldn't keep the growl out of his voice one he realized what Tim was suggesting. Of course he knows it wasn't their fault. He's told all of them as much since. But in the moment...

"Take them off!"

"What?"

"It's the cuffs! Take the damn cuffs off! They're killing him!"

Flash wasted no more time, bolting out of the room to fetch the disabler. Tim didn't bother waiting for the fastest man alive. He had the cuffs disabled before Flash would have been able to swipe his access card into the detainment center storage room. Bruce practically threw the cuffs out of the room in his haste to get them away.

The change had been... not nearly as quick as Bruce would have liked. The heartrate settled out almost instantly, although into something a bit too slow for comfort. But it was steady and Bruce knew nothing about this kid's normal physiology so he counted it a win.

The screaming, of course, had long since choked off. According to Flash's report, his vocal cords failed after about an hour. But his facial expressions still indicated consciousness, though not awareness.

The muscles stopped spasming and unlocked slowly over the course of several minutes. Flash was back by then, looking a bit put out to have lost a race against Red Robin. Batman could not give a single flying fuck about Flash's ego right then.

Shortly after his muscles unlocking was when he finally passed out. Once more, Batman thought about 16 hours. 16 hours and he hadn't even been able to slip into unconsciousness for relief. He should have been here.

The fever was the slowest to break. In that it still hadn't broken almost 2 hours later. Batman had sent Tim and Flash home after Red Robin finished squeezing all the details he could out of Barry. Tim had given him a look before leaving, some mixture of worry and mischief. "Should I tell Agent A to prepare a room?" Bruce just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Hopefully to bed. Knowing his son, probably not. Tim was most likely still up doing research. Bruce wanted to call Alfred to wrangle Tim to sleep.

But calling Alfred would mean leaving the room so the still potentially a threat meta couldn't hear if he woke up. And Bruce couldn't leave him. Not until the fever broke. Not until he woke up. Not until he knew the boy that looked like his sons would be okay.

Not until he could apologize for being late.

16 hours.

16 hours too late.

#DP x DC #my writing #Danny needs his ghost powers to live AU #Lookit #Everyone commenting on that post like it would take days to figure it out #No #Just no #Bat comes in #Or Red Robin here #Cause Batman takes one look at the kid and starts shutting down #Danny looks too much like his sons #But the detective family #You cant convince me not at least one of the Bats would jump to the right answer nigh instantaneously #Them are some smart Birds #Ya feel?

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inourtownofhawkins · 11 months

Note

Babe, wake up, new prompt coming!

I found this cute image on Pinterest and it had me thinking: what if reader spends a whole afternoon crafting these little messages and then she sneakily hides them around Eddie's stuff. Every time he finds one, goes to reader and gives her a kiss, then stores it in a tin box 🩷💋

𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼

Summary: You make love letters for Eddie.

Author's note: Mea I'm so sorry it took me forever to write this request! I hope you enjoy it! Also thank you to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple, @ryan-waddell11 and @orchidmunson for their endless encouragement <3

CW: None, just a whole lotta fluff and Eddie being a dork.

Word count: 1.2k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

Being at Eddie’s apartment alone while he was away working wasn’t an uncommon thing for either of you, he had given you a key to his apartment for a reason, after all. Although you two hadn’t made the full step of moving in together yet, you still spent a lot of time at his apartment whenever you could fit it into your schedule.

You were sat at Eddie’s kitchen table with every kind of stationary imaginable scattered all around you; every shade of pink and white paper, felt tip pens, glitter and endless amounts of glue.

Since Eddie’s phone had broken several days beforehand and he was far too busy with work and couldn’t fit it within budget for the month to get it fixed, you decided to make love notes for him to read every day. You made notes for every occasion; if he felt sad, if he did something amazing, he missed you or even just needed to be told he was loved.

Although your arts and crafts skills weren’t perfect and you ended up with far too much glitter and glue all over your fingers, you were still proud of the notes you were able to make. You knew your art teacher from primary school would be proud of what you’d made, even if when you had lessons with her she hated your guts.

You had almost finished the final note and put them in a jar by the time Eddie walked inside, you felt him gently scratch the top of your head before wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Well this is a nice surprise to come home to.”

You felt the warm burn inside your stomach as you squeezed his arm, happy to be back where you felt like you belonged. “I missed you, of course I’d be here.”

It had only been a couple of days since you last saw each other, but it always felt like an eternity. Being with Eddie was the only place you truly felt safe, it was like coming home every time he brought you into his arms.

Before you and Eddie had gotten together; you’d never believed in that kind of stuff, that home could be a person instead of a place and you thought the people who said that stuff were talking nonsense. But now you understood them, and you just had to wait to find your person.

Eddie glanced over at the mess on the kitchen table, not daring to touch anything with his dirty fingers from working on cars all day. “Whatcha doing here, princess?”

You leaned into him, rubbing his arm with your hand. “It’s a surprise.”

He placed a hand over his eyes once you revealed it was a surprise. “I’m not looking, I swear!” he moved away from you, keeping his hand over his eyes, causing you to laugh. “I’m gonna go have a shower, you wanna order a pizza?”

“Sure,” you answered through your continued laughter as Eddie felt around his apartment to get to the bathroom, hitting his feet and legs on various pieces of furniture along the way. Your boyfriend was an absolute dork, but you loved it far too much, although you knew he acted like that just to make you laugh and he couldn’t ever get enough of that laugh.

You waited until he was safely in the shower to finish the last note and put it into the jar before promptly hiding it in your backpack, being sure Eddie would never find it accidently, not that he’d ever go through your belongings, but you were still cautious. After washing your hands thoroughly, you cleared the kitchen table of your project and grabbed your laptop to order pizza.

Sure, phoning Dominos to place your order was easier but Eddie’s pizza orders were always special to put it simply. That man couldn’t settle for a simple margarita pizza to save his life, nay, he had to have some weird combination that changed in a frequent basis. His current favourite pizza? Tandoori chicken and burger sauce with stuffed crust. As odd as it sounded, you did have a slice and it was pretty good, so you couldn’t exactly hate him for that.

You’d just finished placing the order when Eddie came out donned in just a towel, another towel in his hair trying to dry it before lowering it to cover his face completely. “Is it safe to come out?”

You let out another laugh, nodding your head. “Yes, you muppet, it’s safe. Pizza’s been ordered and it should be here in a bit.”

Taking the towel away from his face, he smirked at you and began to slowly walk across his apartment towards you, deliberately allowing his towel to slip down his body. Watching him with a smirk matching his, you shook your head. “Don’t even think about it, mister, we got pizza coming and I don’t wanna get interrupted by the doorbell again.”

He pouted and pulled up the towel, sulking his way into the bedroom. He came back a few minutes later in his usual jeans and dark red hoodie, one you’d frequently steal from him to wear when the weather got a bit cold.

You closed your laptop lid as he wrapped his arms around you again, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head once you rested your back against his chest. The pair of you stayed in content silence until the loud knock on the door to signal your pizzas had arrived. You began to get up, but Eddie placed his hands on your shoulders to keep you seated, “I’ll get them baby,” he murmured into your hair before answering the door.

Eddie had fallen asleep after devouring his pizza and watching a season and a half of Derry Girls while cuddling with you on the couch, his head nestled into the crook of your neck, feeling his breath on your skin with his arms wrapped tightly around your middle, keeping you close to him.

You slowly got out of his grasp, being careful not to wake him up, although Eddie was quite a deep sleeper and not a lot of things woke him up. As quietly as possible, you moved around his apartment, tidying up the pizza boxes before turning off the TV and putting a blanket over Eddie.

Getting the jar out of your backpack, you began to place the notes around Eddie’s apartment; on every table, in some books, in the wardrobe, on the fridge and in every single pocket you could think of. Once you’d finished, you gently shook Eddie awake just enough to get him in bed and properly asleep before you followed him soon after, cuddling into him as you easily fell asleep.

In the morning, you were woken up by an endless amount of kisses all over your face, lips, neck, chest, and hands. At first, you were too sleepy and groggy to fully realise what was happening but as you slowly started to wake up, you moved Eddie’s kisses up to your lips and kissed him back. “What’s all the kisses for?” you whispered against his lips.

Eddie gave you a couple more kisses before answering your question. “I found some of your notes, and I thought since my girl was being so loving with her notes; I thought I would be loving back and wake her up with as many kisses as I can give her before work.”

#spilled ink #requests #lunatictardis #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction

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litnerdwrites · 2 months

Text

Justice for Nesta recs (AO3)

Most, if not all, of these recs are in the Justice for Nesta/ ACOSF rewrite/fix-it vein. It will be updates as I find more fics, but feel free to send any recs you have.

TRIGGER WARNING! Many of these fics will be very dark, with references to suicide, ptsd, misogyny, and IC BS. However, I'll be sure to add specifics where applicable.

Fics For Those Craving Nesta JusticeI put all the fics I found into one collection on AO3 that, as the title suggests, are for those craving Nesta Justice. Please read the relevant tags for each fic, as many of them contain reference to PTSD, SA (both past referenced and in story), and general IC BS.

I'll also list every fic in this collection bellow, just to keep them all in one place. Feel free to also add your own finds or works if you have any. The collection is open, but moderated.

Those the Stars Cannot Hear by @kataraavatara An ACOSF rewrite where Mor makes good on her threat to leave Nesta in the CON.

Baby, now we got bad blood by Pumpkinspice_Lou They say you should never come between a male and his mate. Rhysand should've known better. Aka Cassian finally choosing Nesta. Completed two-shot.

A Court of Vice and Victors by Wishcamper Acosf rewritten by a therapist. Need I say more? Incomplete.

You Made Her Like That By BookWorm77071 A few days into their Hike from Hell, Nesta is able to form one coherent thought: I don't want to do this anymore. So she stops. Three chapter short story. Completed.

Nesta becomes a baby by Theladyofbloodshed Exactly what the title says. Oneshot.

A Court of Tangled Flames by Theladyofbloodshed A Neris fic where Nesta gets the love story she deserves.

ACOTAR snippet collection by Theladyofbloodshed A collection of Acotar what ifs.

Nesta vs. The Buffer by Theladyofbloodshed After Nesta finally snaps at another 'family' dinner, calling Cassian and Mor out on their shit, she begins to heal and fall in love on her own terms. With a certain shadowsinger. Completed. Nezriel fic. Anti IC but they kind of redeem themselves at the end. Completed.

AU Where We Pretend Acosf Didn't Happen by Theladyofbloodshed An alternative take to ACOSF, starting from post ACOFS. Nesta ends up leaving Velaris, starting herself on a journey of self discovery and healing. TW Beron Vansera, implied/referenced SA, IC being assholes.

Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream by This_Immortal_Hope Nesta was a wolf. So, much like a wolf, she bided her time, accepting her exile with ice in her and determination in her heart. When she was ready, she tore their Court of Dreams apart with their own hypocrisy. One shot. No ship. Rhysand is thoroughly put in his place. Oneshot.

Second Chances by miryamdev Cassian apologises to Nesta after the HOFAS bonus chapter.

A trick of the light by closet_monster There was nothing condemning about madness or paralyzing fear. Nesta was familiar with both — they seemed to be a recurring theme in both womanhood and life in Hewn. Oneshot. TW Depression, self harm, and implied abuse. Please double check the tags before reading.

Burn for Eternity by rosemai Nesta is defeated and broken down by the words of her sisters and the IC, so she takes matters into her own hands and meets a group on individuals who could give her the help she needs. Incomplete.

Nesta's Truth by grovellingboyfriends After another year of leaving Nesta alone, Cassian finds Nesta in her apartment on Solstice, standing over a dead man. TW for implied SA, parental abuse, Elain is a bitch. 3/5 chapters published as of making this post.

Daylight by Flowerflamestar Nesta Archeron, banished and betrayed, ran from cold and hatred straight into the light of Day and found a place where she could belong. Completed.

Might I Suggest You Don't Fuck With My Sis by MacabreGiggles The intervention rethought, where the Archeron sisters decide to stand up for one another and put the IC in their place. Incomplete.

I died. I will die. It's alright. I don't mind. By MacabreGiggles Nesta resorts to other means to cope, like drugs. Incomplete. TW. Abuse. Alcolism. Suicide. Sexual assault. Drug abuse.

The Veil of Silence by Hrizantemy There exists a veil of silence, it shrouds our voices masking our truths, muffling our cries, our voices are muted, and dreams whispered. Incomplete.

You're a crisis of my faith by porque_nolosdos Nesta and Elain leave the NC, and upon seeing the IC's reaction, Feyre decides to ditch them too. Incomplete.

A thousand cuts by adelindschade It finally clicks for Cassian just how badly Nesta was hurting (it only took three TW suicide TW attempts), so he decides to try thinking of what Nesta would want. This decision leaves a ripple effect that will change the NC as we know it. Incomplete.

The consequences of normality by TheTeaQueen After the events of ACOSF, things seem relatively normal. Until Cassian realises that Nesta doesn't ask for things, or that self hatred still grips her, or the facade she puts on for her family. When she starts cutting back on training and work in the library, he begins to worry. Maybe things aren't as perfect as he thought. Maybe their methods in helping her weren't as effective as he thought. Incomplete.

Three little words by TheTeaQueen Cassian finally says those three little words that Nesta needed to hear. Oneshot.

Like fire, she raged by TheTeaQueen Emerie stands up for Nesta and puts Rhys and Feyre in their place. Completed.

Of Death and Resurrection by TheTeaQueen Part 1 of In the name of healing and happiness. Nesta was ready to die. So to save Feyre and Nyx, she did. Can Rhysand, the only person who can save her, bring her back from the brink? Completed. TW Implied suicide, rape/sa, anti Elain.

Of Shadows and Light by TheTeaQueen Part 2 of In the name of healing and happiness. Technically more of a Gwynriel fic, but does have some Nessian since it follows the aftermath of Of death and Resurrection, only Azriel, Gwyn & Elain are the main focus. Ties up a lose thread or two from part 1, and is 100% Anti Elain. Completed. TW Implied child abuse, implied suicide, torture.

Of Reopened Wounds and Retribution by TheTeaQueen Part 3 of In the name of healing and happiness. A trip to the human lands to discuss the treaty leads Nesta to face Thomas Mandray again. This time, she has family willing to go to hell and back for her. Incomplete. TW Implied rape/sa, panic attack.

Lady Death and Her Kingdom by TheTeaQueen Amren pushes Nesta too far, causing her to awaken a strange new power. TW Implied child abuse. Incomplete.

The Hike, Alternatively by TheTeaQueen An alternative take on The Hike from Hell, where Nesta attempt to TW commit suicide TW, and Cassian realises just how messed up their methods, and the events leading up to the hike are. Written for Suicide prevention month. Completed. TW Self harm, suicide, The Hike.

To Pay a Debt by TheTeaQueen When Nesta sees that Feyre didn't include her in any of the paintings, she does the only thing she can think of; Run. Incomplete. TW, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, mentioned sa.

Burning from the Inside out by TheTeaQueen An au where Nesta's secretly lived with Chronic pain her whole life, only for the cauldron and her new powers to exacerbate it. Complete. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, suicidal thoughts, ableism, internalised ableism.

The Whole Truth by TheTeaQueen An alternative take where Nesta's deepest secret comes to light when Elain explodes at the dinner table one night. This forces the IC and her sisters to reevaluate their perception of her. Incomplete. TW: Child abuse, suicidal thoughts/ideation, forced prostitution, sexual assault (underage!!)

Set my Soul Alight by moodymelanist Nesta finds solace in Autumn. No Nessian. Completed. TW Implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced torture.

Falling by becauseofreading Another take on what happens after Cassian tells Nesta that everybody hates her. Incomplete. TW Self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood and injuries.

Destruction and Renewal by Vorbi Nesta is given the opportunity to form new alliances. Initially, she scoffs at the idea, but after a small, final act of disrespect from the IC, she decides to see where this new path leads us. Incomplete. TW Implied/referenced abuse.

No One Likes A Mad Woman by Separatist_Apologist You made her like that. Nesta has had her choices tripped away, so when Eris offers her an out, she takes it. No happy ending for Cassian. The Night Court gets no sympathy. Completed. TW Domestic violence

A Cup of Tea by shaziskhalid After realising that the Cassian of her dreams isn't the Cassian she's mated to, everything changed. (MCU! Wanda, modern Au). Incomplete.

Promise by Daughterofthesea Begins during that scene where Cassian follows Nesta, and ends with him understanding just how much pain she's in, and deciding to actually help her.

Stay here (I love you, but I need another year) by littleplease Nesta is tired, and losing the will to even try. Complete. TW Apathy, depression, vuage suicidal thoughts.

What you did to me (I'll spend my life trying to rise) by filthymouthedslut Nesta is done with the IC's holier-than-thou attitude. No ship. Incomplete (3/4) as of updating this post.

Everybody hates you by Booksandsushi A different take on the time Cassian tells Nesta that Everybody hates her. Incomplete.

Change is good by Booksandsushi Nesta figures her life out on her own. Complete.

Truth of the Heart By TheFreakPanda The months after ACOFAS leave Nesta presented with some new opportunities. Full of therapy and dancing. Completed.

I've Always Liked to Play with Fire by catalyste After her village is destroyed and family killed by Hybern following Feyre's revenge mission, you wake up healed in the NC. After Lucien leaves you there, you find yourself trapped with Nesta Archeron, who turns out to be an unlikely ally. The two of you plan your escape with the help of Eris Vansera. Polly, Neris/reader, with IC bashing, and dragons. Incomplete.

The relapse by Janes_Melodies Something broke in Nesta when she learned about the results of the vote, knowing it was a tie until Feyre. She was trying for her sisters and for Cassian, yet they still think she's cruel enough to create a whole new trove just to kill them all. For the first time in months, she gave into her desires. Incomplete. TW Alcoholism, Implied/referenced self harm, suicidal thoughts.

You're safe now by annieleonhardtsring Rewrite of the scene where Nesta falls down the stairs, and Azriel stands up for her. Complete.

Love her how she should be loved by julemmaes Cassian overhears his family making some not-so-subtle comments about Nesta, and it pushes him over the edge. So he goes to bat for her, blaming his friends for everything wrong with their relationship with his girlfriend. Modern AU completed.

The Nest World - The Next Life by bat_called_phil ACOSF canon divergence fic that starts with the intervention, but diverts when Nesta takes a stand for herself, and Feyre starts holding Rhys accountable. TW Implied/referenced suicide, Implied/referenced abortion.

A Court of Spite and Isolation by xxTAO Nesta choses the human lands, separated from the IC and the distractions from her trauma, she spirals. Incomplete (4/6) TW Suicidal thoughts, Implied/referenced alcoholism, Suicide attempt.

Come Home by Rhysanoodle Cassian learns how Nesta's been living since she came to Illyria, and which fears haunt her the most. Complete.

#pro nesta #anti inner circle #anti ic #anti acosf #nesta deserves better #pro nesta archeron #anti rhysand #nesta acotar #anti elain #the archeron sisters deserve better #anti rhys #anti amren #anti cassian #anti feyre #anti mor #anti morrigan #fic rec

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thecowinblack · 17 days

Text

Burning Hearts pt 2

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Pairing: Eris x Reader, Earlier Azriel x reader

Summary: You arrive at the Autumn court and things are no longer what it used to be and without either your brother or Azriel in the way you and Eris start to catch feelings for each other.

Warnings ⚠️: A little agains, Mentions about sex, Alcohol, fluff, Mean!Azriel, mean!Rhysand, Swearing, mentions about cheating.

Word count: 1549

AN: Firstly I want to thank everyone who has supported me. I love you guys and I am ao thankful for everyone who's liked, followed or reshared. I'm sorry that it took such long time for me to finish this but I've had a lot going on. Hope you like the fic! Love/The cowinblack.

You arrived at the autumn court, feeling nauseous after the past events of the day. Azriel, the mate you’d loved ever since you met him so long ago, wasn't yours anymore. Looking up, Eris was already by your side, concern in his eyes.

“What happened, love?” He calmly asked.

“Azriel… Elain'' That was the only words that came out of your mouth, tears streaming down your face. But Eris didn't need anything else, he understood. You had told him about your concerns with Azriel and Elain earlier. Eris pulled you into a hug and you just stood there crying out for what felt like an eternity until the world became dark and you fell into a long dreamless sleep.

__________________________________

It had gone weeks since you got to the autumn court and you and Eris were closer than ever. Since Beron had been assassinated just months before there was a lot to fix here, laws to remove and things to change. You had helped Eris all you could, even if he said that you should rest and regain your strength. But you’d just laughed it off. Working distracted you and when Eris realized that he’d given you your own office and now you could sit all day working and helping people in need.

Suddenly you heard a knock on the door and Eris walked in.

“Good afternoon sweetie, care for a stroll in the gardens? I’ve got dinner so we can have a picnic.” He told you. You hadn't really realized that it was already afternoon. Guess time goes faster when you have fun.

“Yeah, sure” Only now realizing how hungry you were.”I'm starving,” you added with a little giggle.

“Good you really should take more breaks from working, otherwise you're going to get wrinkles all over your beautiful face!” Eris joked and you shared a laugh. A laugh, that was the first time since Azriel cheated you’d actually laughed. Adoration shone from Eris' eyes, he really looked like you were his sun, the only thing that mattered to him.

“Come on, I wanna eat before it gets dark!” You giggled, dragging him out in the fresh air. You and Eris walked around in the gardens for a bit before you got to your usual place, a beautiful orange tree beside a river. As you spread out the blanket Eris took out the stuff that was in his mystery basket. Strawberries, wine, pancakes and even more delicious things that made your mouth water. You sat and ate and talked for a while and when the time had reached midnight the two of you were drunk, like really drunk.

“You look really pretty tonight Y/N” He told you.

“ So do you, handsome.”

As his eyes met yours the both of you leaned forward and your lips met. The kiss wasn't gentle nor sweet, it was passionate, needy. As the kiss deepened something clicked. Maybe you and Azriel were wrong for each other. Because the passion you felt with Eris was something that you never had experienced earlier.

Carefully Eris laid you down on the blanket.

“Is this okay with you love?” he asked nicely.

“Yes, Eris, yes.” You mumbled into his hair. And so you ended up making love in the fresh autumn air.

__________________________________

The next morning you were woken up by a gentle kiss pressed against your forehead.

“Good morning love, how are you feeling?” Eris asked.

“Amazing, how do you feel?” You asked with a sleepy voice.

“Better than ever.” He said, now trailing kisses down your neck. “But we have to talk about us.” He continued.

“Of course, Eris I love you, a part of me always has, as you were the one who took care of me all those months ago when we got back from Under the mountain. You were there for me when no one else was, not even my mate. I totally understand if you don't have the same fee-” Eris cut you off with a kiss, a kiss so different from the one you shared before, this was so much more… Real. He wasn't leaving you.

“I love you Y/n, you're my world, I've loved you for so long, always thinking that you didn't see me in that way, we can take it slow if you want, but you’re the one I want by my side, forever.” Eris declared.

“Your little drama queen.” Was the only thing you could get out of your mouth, to shocked by the fact that Eris, the boy you’d had a crush on since you were so very young, was declaring his love before you.

“Well I'm your drama queen.” He laughed pulling you into another kiss.

__________________________________

Months past and you and Eris just grew closer. Your family had made several attempts to see you but you didn't feel ready. They had abandoned you when you needed them the most and you couldn't just forget that. Rhysands had said in a letter that everyone was missing me and that Cassian, Mor and Amren almost had killed Azriel for what he’d done. They were all sorry and just wanted me to come home.But the Night court wasn't your home anymore. Slowly you’d begun to love The Autumn Court and Eris and you had gotten married just days ago. Now you’re Autumn's high lady. It wasn't official. Just the court knew and you wanted to wait before declaring it, or at least make it dramatical. You and Eris had discussed when and where and then the perfect opportunity showed up:

A High Lord (and lady) meeting was to be held at the Day Court, to discuss the restoration of Prythian. And you were going to be there, but for the first time you weren't going to stand by your brother's side, no you were going to have your own throne next to Eris. If you were going to see Rhys you were going to do it on your own accord. That was when you were going to reveal your title. And that meeting, that meeting was today. Right now you were packing and planning what to talk about, what to wear and how to act. You’d known Helion since you were a little kid and the two of you’d always gotten along. He was like you, hiding all his troubles with humor and you hoped that your friendship would help to stabilize an official, and well needed, alliance between the Day Court and the Autumn court.

“Love, are you ready? We have to get going now!” Eris said as he entered your room, greeting you with a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah let me just get changed real quick!” You murmured to him.

“Do you need a hand?” He asked playfully.

“No we don't have much time and I have a feeling that if you help me my dress is probably going off instead of on” You told him and quickly went into your ginormous wardrobe, an adorable chuckle following you. The dress you had chosen to wear was a piece of art. It was a clear beautiful red color which faded out into endless yellows and oranges. The bodice looked to be made of leaves in all of autumn's colors. It was in short just… Ethereal. You quickly got changed and right outside your room you saw the pleasant sight of your husband leaning against the doorframe. He was clad in a stunning tailored suit, a suit that matched your dress perfectly. In his hand he held the tiara version of the crown that covered the top of his head. He sweetly placed it on top of your head and then held out his arm for you to take. You laid your arm on his and a couple moments later you had arrived in Helions favored castle.

Eris had winnowed the two of you to one of the many entrances where the two of you were greeted by a couple guards. They scienly led you into a ginormous, beautiful room with a glass roof painted in gorgeous golden patterns. Around a round marble table 8 chairs were placed. You quickly realized that the two of you were the first to arrive since the only people in the room, beside the two of you, were Helion and a couple guards. When he saw us he strode towards us with softness in his gaze.

“Y/N! Long time no see. I heard what happened in the Night court and I became so worried that I wouldn't get to see you here!” He greeted you coming in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his broad figure as he lifted you up, spinning you in the air.

“Oh and hello to you too Eris, what a fine Lady you have gotten your hands on.” Helion said as he put you down.

Eris answered with a chuckle and then spoke. “Fine indeed. Helion could you be an angel and ask your guards to get another chair. We can't have Autumn's High Lady stand through the whole meeting!” He announced.

“High Lady? Well Y/N I guess congratulations are in order-” Helion abruptly stopped and you knew what just happened. You spun around quickly, Eris clinging to your arm, offering support, as you uttered the words “Hello big brother.”

Taglist:

@queerqueenlynn @se7enteen--black-blog @@mybestfriendmademe @cleverzonkwombatsludge

An: I've got loooots of ideas for the next part and I hope to see you then!

#eris x reader #eris x you #high lord eris x rhys!sister!reader x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar angst #acotar x y/n #eris x y/n #rhysand sister #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n

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metalotaku-da · 10 months

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Dcxdp Danny phantom and klarion are friends.

Danny as the ghost king who loves to prank loves teaching a younger appearance klarion all kinds of fun gags and tricks of magical nature. It's like the younger sibling he always wanted. And is a nice break from some of his royal duties. But things have been a little busier than usual they haven't gotten to really get out and have fun. Danny is 30 looks 20. Klarion is looking 14. But in the thousands for age.

Klarion is bored and upset. He wants time with Danny to himself. No interruption from clockwork or the eternal. Other ghosts. No one. It's not fair. He needs a plan to sneak Danny out of the infinite realm, hide him and not be the fall guy when they get caught. Because it's clockwork they will be caught it's the when. He needs someone else to do the summoning work. But who and how.

He lands on John Constantine. Clockwork doesn't like him much. And Danny inherited all the old kings claims. So he be able use that if things got dicey. And klarion is not a fan either of the jerk. To buddy buddy with nabou. So he has a fall guy to blame for the summoning. Just needs to setup a prank so good that John thinks he has no choice but to summon someone who could destroy the world.

Takes him a week to land on act like I'm gonna do it so he has to first. Easy. And he can brag to a bunch of villains to really drive the urgency. Perfect.

Plan worked like a charm. Maybe to good though. John got a bunch of heroes to help. No good no good. John is lieing to his super jerk friends. Klarion can see the seal. It will make Danny weaker and lock him to the jerk like a dog on a leash. Not to the artifact he said they could lock him away with. He's gotta fix this quick. He drops in the pawns he recruited to distract. While discreetly changing the ruin on the summoning without mucking it up so it doesn't work. All while fighting zantana, and racing the circle lighting up.

The summoning is completed. But something obviously went very very wrong. Klarion has teakle distract zantana while he goes over the summoning again to see what he shifted. Oopsie. The ruin for shrinking power turned to shrinking age. But thats ok. It can be fixed later. Maybe. Probably. He didn't get the teather changed before it set. But that's an easy fix by killing Constantine. But his friend is here. And now they can really play. So it's all good. Klarion is ecstatic. So much so teakle runs to him as he shrinks causing one of the supers to over swing on an attack on his familiar.

But Danny needs a minute. As he blinks wearily on his feet. Rubbing at his face. Ugh summoning. He hates summoning. And this had to be a strong one. Because he couldn't resist like most of them. Whatever once the brain fog clears he'll be good and can really give the jerks who did a real stern talking to. Or maybe he'll scare them. That sounds better. Standing infront of him is a blonde man looking like a dirty drunk cop dective from TV. Who is gapping at him as a cigarette burns on the ground at his feet. This guy has to be like a gaint too cause Danny has to really crane his head back to look up at his face. There is a bunch of commotion going on but he's to focuses on this weird feeling he has towards this weirdo. Who seems like he's confused. Maybe it was an accident. Whatever. Danny still isn't happy. He puts his hands on his hips. "Hey jerk face! What do you think your doing?" Then Danny's eyes went wide. "Oh by the ancients is that my voice! What's wrong with my voice!" Danny now clutched his throat before waving his arms wildly at the creepy man. "What did you to me you weirdo! I sound like a baby!"

"It a bloody fucking child."

"It's bad to cuss infront of kids Constantine." Someone else says outside the circle.

Danny's head snaps their direction. Danny's eyes widen as he puts his hand into view looking at himself panic taking over and he looks around at all these tall people looking at him or fighting. He opens his mouth to scream in fear or frustration he doesn't know till he hears a voice he recognizes.

"Don't wail, don't wail!" Danny closes his mouth and looks around for the source.

"Klarion?"

"Sorry my bad. I messed up change the circle so it wouldn't weaken you. And well oopsie " klarion rushed into the circle hugging little Danny tight. "But you are here. So now we can play." Klarion gasped as he pulled back from Danny. "I can be the big brother now!"

"Noooooo, klarion I was already a little brother. I wanted to be a big brother more." Danny whined. His white hair flopping over as he rolled his head in complaint.

"To bad. I'm the big brother now. We are gonna have so much fun. You just have to get rid of this looser so we can go do our thing." Klarion gestured towards Constantine.

#fanfic #danny phantom #klarion #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #de aging #john constantine

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brewstersbru · 4 months

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Hey folks have some huskerdust !! 🕷️♥️

“I know, I know Legs. I just need to ask you something.” Angel’s eyes scrunch closed and the rest of his expression crumples as he whines out, short and low. Husk hovers his hands over the mottling of bruises and cuts that litter his torso, some still sluggishly bleeding. He itches to bandage them up, but stays himself with the sobering thought that Angel is used to guys touching him when he’s unconscious.

“Angel.” He tries again. Angel shakes his head minutely. “-on’t wanna.” He whines.

“Look at me please? I just want to check that it’s okay that I touch you. You know it’s important to me.”

Angel, with a long, juddering sigh, pulls himself from the cusp of sleep and blinks his eyes open. He frowns, glaring a little as he yawns into his hand. Husk waits patiently at his side, knees beginning to ache with being pressed against the hard wooden floor for so long.

“I told ya I don’t care what you do when I come back doped out like this, Whiskers. Not like I’ll remember it. Hah!” His laugh comes out rough, like it hurts to push from his lips. Husk shakes his head.

“And I told you it doesn’t matter if you’ll remember it or not. I’m not going to be another man who takes advantage of you.” He says, carefully enunciating each word so the message gets through.

Angel curses and flops over onto his side which draws his face infinitely closer to Husk’s own. He meets his eyes with a burning, lidded gaze. Husk keeps his posture relaxed, but his tail puffs at the sudden movement.

“Yer a softie, Husk. I don’t think ya could take advantage of me if you wanted to.” The words are coupled with a rickety, slapped on grin. Husk desperately wants to just shake him until he gets it through his big thick head that that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, it matters what he wants. Does he want Husk touching him after an abusive, grueling shoot? That’s what Husk’s asking, not if he ‘trusts’ him. He sighs.

“You didn’t answer my question. Can I touch you? Just give me an answer and then you can go back to sleep. God knows you’ll be needing it.” And it’s true. Who knows what Val has in store for him tomorrow? He’s better off getting all the rest he can get, while he can.

Angel appraises him with a long, considering look. There’s a lot going on behind his eyes and though Husk is aware of the fact of it, he can’t begin to try to fathom what exactly his thoughts are in this moment. He simply sits back on his heels and awaits his verdict. Every so often his eyes are drawn down to the mess of Angel’s torso. It’s not an intentional thing, but he can feel his hackles rising with the need to Fix It. Husk crushes the feeling down.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity but in reality couldn’t have been longer than five minutes, Angel closes his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah Husk, you can.” He says, voice as small as Husk thinks he’s ever heard it. It’s strange to hear him so soft when usually he overtakes rooms with booming confidence; he even looks small, now, tucked into himself and using all of his arms to hug himself close as he hunches over.

He doesn’t- maybe he can’t- look at Husk when he speaks. Husk takes the words for the olive branch that they are and nods.

“Okay. Thank you, Angel. S’ all I needed.”

Angel just nods, curling further into himself for a moment before abruptly turning onto his back and feigning sleep. They both know he’s awake- he’s not snoring as loudly or as endearingly as he would if he truly was asleep- but Husk doesn’t call him on it, just reaches down to the first aid kit he’d dragged over in his initial protective rage and starts unpacking the necessary materials. Alcohol (not the fun kind), gauze, tape, and Angel’s preferred- though he’d never tell you it- heart-patterned bandages.

Another glance at Angel’s stiffly unmoving form reminds him that he hadn’t even had time to remove his makeup before passing out from exhaustion. Smears of glittery pink decorate his eye sockets, smudged from what Husk can only assume were punishing bouts of sweat and exercise. Husk pushes down the surge of indignation this thought elicits and smooths Angel’s hair back, thumbing for a moment near his hairline, before standing.

“Be back in a sec. Forgot something.” He keeps his voice low, tries for soothing but probably achieves something more like a dying wood chipper. Angel- who had up until that point been tightly coiled, as if expecting a blow- eases into the cushions at the sound. He hums, “Mmk. Thanks.”

Husk doesn’t respond lest Angel figure out from the cadence of his voice that Husk doesn’t need to be thanked. That he wants to do this. That he likes it.

It’s just- Angel always looks so at peace in these moments. The usual tension in his body melts away leaving nothing but the rawest and purest version of him. Husk loves that version of him, and he loves that Angel trusts him enough to show him it.

Husk returns after a minute or two with a pack of makeup wipes, Angel’s preferred brand, that he’d bought not too long ago precisely for moments like this. Angel was always complaining about glitter getting into his eyes when he forgot to take his makeup off and Husk saw an opportunity to Fix It. There’s not a lot in Angel’s life that Husk is able to help with, but this is something. And he jumped at the chance.

Angel is snoring lightly, right back at the cusp of oblivion that Husk had so heartlessly torn him from before. He sniffs and turns toward Husk when he settles back at his side, curling slightly into his warmth. Husk can’t help the smile that infects his features at the movement.

With careful, callused fingers, Husk begins to dab at the cuts on Angel’s torso. He’s not sure how to feel about the fact that Angel only flinches at the initial sting, not the rest of the painful swipes. It speaks to a depth of experience with this kind of thing that Husk vehemently dislikes the thought of Angel having to go through. Sure, in theory he knows Angel’s been subjected to this bullshit for decades, but to see it spelt out like this? So clearly and heartbreakingly? Husk has to take a moment between cleaning and bandaging the wounds to collect himself.

Angel whines when he takes his hands away.

“Easy. Easy, Legs.” He wants to call him ‘baby’ but isn’t convinced enough of Angel’s unconsciousness to chance it. Angel huffs.

The rest of the bandages go on easily enough, with minimal protests from Angel- which, somehow only seem to occur when Husk pulls away- and Husk smooths a healthy amount of bruise cream on each of Angel’s visible bruises. He’s almost certain there are more hidden beneath the- admittedly skimpy- clothing Angel is wearing, but is unwilling to undress him like this.

Pulling the surprisingly fluffy throw blanket from the back of the couch, Husk drapes it over Angel’s form, smoothing the sides down and tucking his arms beneath its warmth so he doesn’t wake up cold.

Husk is methodical in his cleanup of the first aid supplies, drawing each movement out so that he has more of a reason to stay in the room. To look at the rare smooth openness of Angel’s expression.

Once finished, he sets the kit to the side and picks up the makeup wipes, pulling one from the pack and pinching it between his pointer and thumb as he leans over Angel’s face. He moves one hand to cup his cheek, and the other to begin swiping lightly across Angel’s left eyelid.

Angel flinches a little at the unexpected contact, eyelids fluttering as his expression scrunches, disrupting the smooth peace Husk had so adored. It strikes something sore within Husk to watch.

“Hey. Hey, you’re okay, Baby. I’m not gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep.” The ‘baby’ slips out, Husk just can’t filter his words as carefully when Angel is so close, and so clearly hurting.

Angel’s expression smooths at the sound of his voice, at first fractionally, then all at once. It’s a gift to witness.

He leans his cheek further into Husk’s hand and Husk, unable to curb the small chuckle that bursts from his chest at the sight, smooths his thumb underneath Angel’s newly cleaned eye.

This is perfect. If life was fair and they were free this could be their normal, their everyday intimacies, indulged in unrestrained bliss. Husk allows himself to live in the thought for a moment before moving to clean Angel’s other eye.

He doesn’t flinch this time, simply sinks into Husk’s hand as it cradles his face and tips his right side towards him. Husk lets his fingertips linger against smooth, cool skin as he works. Swiping tenderly with each pass, as if Angel were something worth treating carefully.

Husk finishes his work without fanfare and, with an indulgent, lingering press of his lips to Angel’s warm forehead, he stands.

Only to nearly keel over when he meets Angel’s own, lidded- but OPEN- eyes.

“FUCK!”

Angel laughs, but it’s small and syrupy. Real.

“Thanks, Babycakes.” He offers, reaching his arms above his head in a stretch before settling back, deeper under the covers. “You sure know how to treat a guy. Careful what you offer, though, okay? Might end up with a junkie on your ass if it's too sweet.”

Husk understands what he’s really trying to say and shakes his head.

“Any time, Angel.”

#huskerdust #husker hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel #GAY PEOPLE #ive been thinking about husk taking angels makeup off for so long #brainrot #needed to write a little blurb and this helped pull me from my slump a little #please enjoy #sry i havent been writing my car got wrecked on jan 1 and the year has not gotten significantly better from there #hopefully this is the start of me writing more blurbs again #brublurbs #cross posted on ao3 as always bc i crave attention

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