#WAIT I MEAN go read it its very good and not cringe or anything :)

[spidereggs888]

Miguel bangs Dr Doom and the poor bastard asks for seconds

/j

Miguel & You

ACT 3 | INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+ language. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol

(Seriously, if you haven't read ACT 1 or ACT 2, NONE of this will make sense)

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

“Okay? I mean you still got your job, yeah?” your friend says.

“It’s different now! I can’t- my job’s not enough- all my savings are GONE! All those data sticks were full of nontaxable credit and now it’s probably being hocked off for rapture! What the shock am I gonna do?!”

“Wait, wait! Hang on, lemme text Bryce! He gonna know something!”

“I REALLY can’t believe that O’Hara! We talked about this! I made my case pretty simple and he agreed to a follow up meeting- and now he’s just gonna CANCEL on me?!”

“Hey it’s not his fault! He doesn’t know what you’re going through.”

You are so mad you almost tell her the truth. But his secret identity could be a bargaining chip! Yeah sure that will be stooping low but he KNOWS you are one lost payment away from house hunting, which is a horrible experience in Nueva York, especially if you’re broke.

After some sounds of computer work on her end, Speshall re-emerges.

“Hold on… okay. Bryce says Mister O’Hara is back in the Alchemax Business Bureau building.”

“Good God, tell Bryce I said thanks!”

“You better hurry, cuz people who lost their shot yesterday are trying to catch him today. I don’t know how word got out that he didn’t choose anyone as a secretary, but yeah, they are scrambling to get a hold of him. You better hurry!”

You pull out your only spare jacket (the clear plastic one that only keeps off the rain), and throw on a new scarf. You are back at square one, where you gotta compete with all the other interviewees, including Suck-up Syd who’s gonna be even more desperate this time, and Beta-Brody, who just might actually appeal to O’Hara now that he’s about to have an uninterrupted audience with the guy!

Your chances are slim, but if you stand to lose everything, why the hell dwell here?!

░▒▓スパイダーマン▓▒░

When you exit the apartment complex, you run through all of the holograms offering a better life, past all the salesmen trying to convert you to the great house of Thor, and slam your palm down on the terminal button to call the apartment valet.

"Welcome back, tenant 27," the AI apartment valet greets, “Do you want-”

“YES! Give it to me!”

Your car roars out of its hiding place as if it knows today isn’t the day to worry you with her many problems. She is bright red with flaking paint, but she is here in your time of need.

“We refueled your vehicle. Do you accept the charges-”

“BILL ME TOMORROW!”

You rush and slide across the hood, executing the perfect slide and land on your feet on the other side. The door unlatches automatically and you climb in (that almost never happens), and you slam your foot down on the gas pedal.

“I’m comin’ for you, O’Hara!”

░▒▓человек-паук▓▒░

After dodging and slipping through traffic, you arrive at the Alchemax Business Bureau parking lot. The automated parking center kiosk accepts your money this time since your mom knows how to clean her gambling money (you have yet to learn this difficult process), and you get to enter the building in a more conventional way. 

The lobby is already in chaos. People are fighting over the coffee machine for some reason, slapping and hitting each other. You turn your back on it and face the old man behind the receptionist desk. He grimaces at you.

“You don’t have anything to do with the crazy shit happening over there, right?” He asks. This was the first time he’s spoken to you in a while.

“Don’t think so. Uh, has O’Hara come through?”

“Heh. What do you think?”

You cringe at the sound of a coffee pot crashing to the floor. The receptionist opens a holoscreen and looks at you through it.

“He’s up in the temp office again.”

He discreetly brings a cup of black coffee up from behind the desk and sets it near you.

“Just pushing forward a favor.”

His eyes focus on the video call that pops up between you, and he continues, “We need custodial support in the lobby. We got some broken glass and hot coffee all over the damn place.”

≋≋≋（スパイダーマン）≋≋≋

You are on the elevator, coffee in hand with a pocket full of sugars. You decide not to drink it, you plan to give it to O’Hara (everyone else must have had this same plan, hence fighting over the pitcher of coffee.) The elevator lets someone else on. The doors open and you see the smoky eyes of Suck-Up Syd.

“Ah, you got past everyone else, I see.”

You reluctantly move over as she strides in. You notice she’s wearing a backless dress before she pulls her faux fur jacket back over her shoulders. She knows you saw, she chuckles and sighs.

“Don’t ya love this day and age?” she asks innocently.

“It could be better,” you say pleasantly.

“I just love how a woman can be herself and flaunt what she’s got…” 

She waits for a word of validation but you say nothing to her. She continues.

“I got this dress from Michael, our last boss. Remember him?”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who gave me a second chance…”

“Yeah after the whole embezzling thing! Tsk, I’m so glad you didn’t get fired, you know that? Like really, you are the nicest person in this whole wide place! It would have been so unfair of him to let you go. But he’s very generous.”

You wanna say something mean to her but you are at a crucial point in your life to have stupid Suck-Up Syd karma in the mix.

The elevator door opens and you see a guy laying face down on the floor. He’s groaning in pain. It’s the nice Indian man from yesterday.

“Oh my, what happened here?” Syd asks.

“Ah just some stuff that needed settling,” says the familiar douchey voice of Brody, who walks up from the corner while rubbing his knuckles.

“Did you beat up that guy?!” You scold.

“Well, he got in my face,” he says with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I somehow doubt that!” You scoff.

 Brody smirks and takes your coffee.

“Dude, that’s mine!” you complain.

He sips it while keeping eye-contact with you. He then immediately scrunches his face.

“Ew, you don’t add anything to your coffee?!”

“That’s very rude and gross, Broly,” Syd says with sarcasm, walking away towards the glass elevator. He hands the coffee back to you and swiftly follows her, and you reluctantly follow.

“I was just playing, Sydney, lighten up! Nice dress, by the way!”

“Thank you.”

“I mean... you flaunted it for Micheal, I bet you could do the same exact routine for O’Hara and get the job instantly! That's your in-an-out plan, right?”

“Hey, if he thinks hiring me will get him there then that’s on him, not me.”

“What are you pushing 38, going on 39 any time now? You can’t use your looks forever, tick-tock tick-tock.”

“Oh wow, says the guy who believes in that Alpha Male BS. You are aware that the same guy who coined that whole thing turned around and disproved it years later, you know that, right?”

“So it’s not true for wolves, but it’s definitely true for Man.”

“You are not even close to being a Beta…” you grumble. 

He looks back at you with a fake smile. Syd laughs.

“Oh well check this out-”

He slaps the coffee down out of your hands and it gushes all over your pants and shoes. You jump back and kick your legs.

“Dude! That BURNS! What the FUCK?!”

“You got it on my dress, you fucking animal!” Syd complains, stepping back away from the dark puddle.

“Oh you were gonna take it off to show what’s left of your body anyway! Get with the now and lighten up!”

“You are SUCH an asshole!” You yell. You start kicking him in the legs. Syd joins in, thrashing him with her stiletto. The both of you back him into the corner as he tries to guard his face. The glass doors open and the three of you stop your squabbling as y’all realize there has been an audience for the last few seconds.  

The pair of security guards from yesterday are standing near the elevator, both looking somewhat amused about the elevator fight, and two men are sitting on either side of the tiny desk, one of them being O’Hara and the other is your ex boss.

“Oh… uh, hi!” Syd stammers, taken aback by the present company. Brody pushes her aside and strides across the room with his hand extended.

“Hey, Mister O’Hara! The name’s Brody Tice! Nice to meet-”

“The hell are you guys doing here?” O’Hara asks.

“Hey, yeah, I didn’t get to meet you yesterday-  had some stuff come up, but I heard you were here today, so I thought-”

“Then SIT,” O’Hara demanded.

“Actually, I do better standing!” 

“Sit the hell down, Brody,” Micheal snaps, “Now’s not the time!”

[Brody mumbles something about being fine where he is.]

“Is everything okay, Micheal?” Syd asks, defaulting to an innocent tone.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Micheal says with glossed, lazy eyes. He always had this look whenever he was forced to care, “Someone formerly in our department just complained about some old history and we are trying to smooth it out.”

"Oh, this is beyond smoothing out," O'Hara said with an unsafe tone while smiling, "Yeah, this little game you have going on comes to an end today."

"What game?!" Micheal scoffs, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ve had my AI assistant cross-reference your employment history and your payment history and I did not like what she told me," O'Hara says, putting his giant paws together, "You’ve been withholding payment from your employees by not immediately updating their salary in the system after they were given a raise. And you’d neglect doing anything until they actually confront you about it, and even then, you never paid them the missing difference. And you did this, let's say, roughly eighty times in the past four years?”

Your blood boils. This man has been a parasite this whole time while you scraped by. Micheal looks back and forth at Syd and Brody, unable to keep eye contact with O'Hara.

"Wha- WHICH of you- Syd! I thought I could TRUST you!" Micheal stammers.

"What? Micheal! No! I didn't say anything about you!"

Micheal's gaze darts to Brody, but then he swivels his head to you instead.

"Was it you?!"

"Wow, you're really just gonna look for someone to blame, huh?" Brody scoffs.

"Whoever did this doesn't know who they're messing with!" Micheal says, his face red as he shakes, "I have too much as stake to be taken down by some rat!"

“It was ME!” you yell, not willing to take anything else laying down anymore, “I confirmed what happened!”

Micheal looks genuinely surprised at you yelling. Syd just blinks awkwardly and Brody grins. O’Hara is still sitting with his elbows resting on his desk, watching from behind clasped fingers.

“What on earth did you-”

“The ultimatum you gave me! You pulled me aside into the maintenance closet and made me choose between getting fired or demoted, REMEMBER?!”

“We took you into the maintenance closet because the situation was private-”

“You just didn’t want anyone with a brain noticing you were doing something illegal!”

“He was on vacation!” Syd said defensively, “You should have just waited-”

“Oh that’s SUCH bullshit! He wanted to see how long he could go without actually paying me what I was owed!” 

“It was just a fluke in the system-”

“It was no fluke, it was CALCULATED!” You snap, stepping towards her with your finger in her face, “And you should know, Syd! You fucking stood there watching like the stupid little henchman you are! You KNEW Micheal was doing something illegal and you did NOTHING to report it! And we know why! Because you KNEW if I went down, you would instantly get my position as vice head PR accountant! You were a snake from the start and always HAVE been!”

“Oh shush! You were sniveling and crying like a BABY, begging to keep the job! I may be what I am but at least I have some dignity-”

“Sydney! Let’s not push it!” Micheal warned.

“That’s fucking laughable coming from you, y’know that?” Brody says to Syd, “You are the LAST person with any dignity around here! You dropped your panties for Ashton when I told you he was head of our department! You didn’t even try to research him or anything! You just did it because you’re a whore.”

“And you!” you yell, pointing at Brody.

“Ah, let’s hear it!” He retorts.

“You are the biggest lying asshole in this whole fucking industry! How the fuck has no one laid you out yet?! All that alpha dog bullshit has gone so far up your ass, I don’t know where your sexist bullshit ends and where your goddamn shit-eating grin begins! You gotta tear people down because you aren’t strong enough to hack it with the big dogs, are ya?! ARE YA, BRODY?! Oh, look at me! I’m Brody Tice! I’m too mean and stupid to make meaningful relationships work, so I bully others to assert a false sense of dominance! And if that don’t work, I resort to telling people I was diddled in the doo doo hole by my best friend Ashton because that’s the kind of LOSER I am!”

Brody’s pride is on the line, and he was not taking too kindly to you airing out his dirty laundry in front of O’Hara. He steps up to you, his fake smile now grinding into a dangerous sneer.

“Oh, NOBODY has laid me out yet because they CAN’T!”

“You are so full of shit!”

“Go ahead and make your move, then!”

“Everyone just stop!” Syd pleads anxiously.

“You can't always get away with everything you’ve DONE!” You say coldly. Blood is rushing in your ears and you can feel your neck getting hot. Brody jabs you in the shoulder with his knuckles.

“Make your move, bitch-” 

Having seen enough, O’Hara stands up and swiftly grabs Brody by the front of his shirt. He leads the smaller man around on his toes as they come face to face. Brody’s eyes bulge.

“Wow, man! Your hands are massive-”

 O’Hara picks the whole man up and one-arm slams Brody through the tiny desk. Just *bam* throws him down TLC style. Travel-sized bottles fly everywhere.

Brody stares up at the ceiling, making a long minuscule whining sound. The desk is finished and everyone is frozen in place. 

“Quitar este loser,” he commanded, pointing down at Brody and flicking his finger at the door. The two guards grabbed Brody and lifted him out of the rubble. 

“As for you two,” he said, turning to Syd and Michael, “clean out your desks!”

“W-why?!” Syd whined

“You can't do this!” Michael begged, his grey eyes bulging, "I have been with this department for thirty years! I was here when your father ran this place!"

O'Hara clenches his jaw and fists. His eyes flash dangerously.

"--Though you do a spectacular job as CEO, WAY better than... It-It really was an honest fluke, I get very overwhelmed with all my responsibilities- please! You can’t fire me!”

He stares down Micheal, considering him a little longer. He drops his scowl and lets his hands free.

“Relax, I’m not firing you or Miss Sarcoth here,” O’Hara says with a falsely kind tone, “I mean, you really should be fired, but a guy your age doesn’t stand a chance in the private sector, so I’m moving you both to the custodial department! They’ll love you there!”

“Oh... well alright,“ Michael mutters, eyes bugged out at the giant financial nuke that missed him by inches.

“Wait, why am I being dragged down too?!” Syd whined, “there’s no proof I was even THERE!”

“There's lots of surveillance of your complacency and possible cooperation, Miss Sarcoth. Don’t even bother trying to argue your way out of this one. Now both of you, off to your new jobs! C’mon! You only get one chance!”

O'Hara gives them both a clenched smile. Syd and Micheal exchange confused stares.

“Go on before I get pissed off,” he said in a colder tone.

They scramble to gather their coats and rush out of the room. Those two jackasses who screwed with your livelihood just to make themselves laugh are now fucking off to whatever hell hole O’Hara has decided to stuff them into.

O’Hara sighs and paces away. He grumbles about idiots fucking around with their goddamn money. You clear your throat. He straightens his anti glare lenses then looks at you.

“Have a seat, since you’re here.”

You sit down where Michael was seated before. You stare this guy down because this is it! You are ready for hellfire. You are ready for searing words and possible loss of a limb or head in the conversation to come. You squint at those red eyes behind the comically large lenses. How has nobody accused him of being a vampire? Either way, you are ready to gamble it all, to hell with being cautious!

You are gonna take this vampire down.

“You are wondering why I canceled our meeting, yeah?” He asks with raised brows.

You are relieved he brought it up first.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I decided I don’t need a secretary,” he said, “turns out it’s too damn stressful and stupid. I’ve been doing just fine with my AI assistant.”

“What about all the people who wanted to work for you?”

“They have their own jobs already, it’s not like they have nothing to go back to.”

“Well I don’t,” you say, gripping the edge of your chair. He makes a curious face.

“You have a job, what do you mean-“

“I’ve been cheated, blackmailed, rejected, declined, and robbed, all because of idiots like Michael and Syd… and that idiot Brody! I’m not about to let a dismissive playboy who fires people left and right, AND moonlights as Spider-Man kick me down without a fight-“

O’Hara comes back over and sits down in his chair quickly, making you flinch, but he’s smiling.

“So you WERE awake when I saved you!”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. You are now shaking but not breaking your stare from his amused expression.

“Now you know who I am and what I do… at least only the tip of that gargantuan iceberg… so what do you want? Money? You gonna blackmail me?”

“What fucking choice do I have?” You say heatedly, “I lost everything down there in that hell hole! My data sticks, my phone, all of that was my LIFE in order, and now I either go further into debt or I get a better job that will take care of me for the rest of my life!”

O’Hara leans back into his chair, his brow furrowed as he rubs his chin.

“Don’t think for a second I’m not grateful for you saving my life! I don’t know how you knew I needed saving but you did!”

“My AI assistant Lyla informed me your location was moving down to a notorious criminal breeding ground. I thought you were one of those Black Market Demons trying to infiltrate Alchemax for drugs.”

“What?”

“I mean the descriptors fit. I guessed you were financially unstable and turning to gambling because you had a Rapture habit. But… you didn’t seem physically unwell like a Rapture user. The only other possibility was that you were being kidnapped. Since I already met you and saw it about to happen, I just couldn’t ignore it.”

You look to the floor, feeling bad about readying yourself to fight this guy.

“I knew you needed help. I'm sorry about your data sticks and all your money. I didn’t know- you do have a bank account, right? I mean, you have a job-”

“My job salary goes there, yeah, but that goes straight into automated payments since I’m on the Alchemax home-employment plan… I have the data sticks because my bank won’t accept anything considered gambling money. And I don’t have enough earnings for an offshore account… so I kept it all on the data sticks…”

He is hanging on every word now. You look up at those sad bespectacled eyes.

“Also… I just wanted some personal spending money for myself. I just wanna wear nice stuff and eat something else besides mineral bars…”

He politely watches you try not to feel sorry for yourself. You are both quiet for a little spell. You can hear the wind outside, and an automated cleaning system starts spraying the shit out of the glass elevator. It sounds like a car wash.  All that coffee on the floor is being washed away.

He sighs and looks out the windows.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t impressed at the decade and a half you put into PR work for Alchemax,” he finally says. You wipe away a single tear and look up at him as he pulls up your files on his neat watch. He picks out your best work with his calloused but beautiful hands, “You started running hot meals for the Alchemax elderly program at fifteen years old… went into mail room tech for a while there, occasionally doing lobby work and handling public events… not bad at all.”

"Thanks," you say modestly.

“Most of all, I really admire that you came here. I don’t know how you knew I’d be here, but you must have some great resources to pull that off. I'm impressed.” 

You smile at him weakly. He smiles back.

“What do you think about taking Micheal's old job?” 

“Wha- REALLY?!”

“Ah I’m sure you’ll do fine! Besides, I didn’t know who I was gonna pick as head of PR account and finances, anyway! So, what do you say?”

You stand up and so does he. You extend your hand and he takes it.

“Thank you for this opportunity, sir! I won’t let you down!”

“You actually don’t have a choice.”

You smile but then feel yesterday’s emotions catch up with you. The darkness with the dead bodies and freaky black market demons. Running until your legs were on fire and your lungs hurt. Being surrounded by those demons in the darkness. You dive in for a hug.

“Thank you for saving my life…” you murmur into his shirt.

“C’mon, I’m Spider-Man, it’s what I do.”

You hold your head against those mighty pecs of his. His dress shirt is so silky and soft and smells like the kind of detergent that goes hard like crack. You go ahead and wrap the other arm around him as you behold the heartbeat of a hero, something so rare in any day and age. You will never forget this sensation as he carefully pats your back.

“Ah, okay, just take it all in… I’m only allowing this once… hey, also promise me you'll keep my secret, okay?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'm not kidding. If you go telling people I'm Spider-Man, I'll make you clean toilets. SPECIFICALLY toilets. And only toilets."

You start to giggle. He does too.

"Just toilets, all day and all night! I'm serious. I know we are laughing but I'm dead serious. No estoy bromeando! Comprendes?"

"Si comprendes," you manage to muffle out.

"Good, good... Okay get off me. Please.”

You smile and let him go. He gives you an awkward smile and rubs the side of his massive neck. 

"So... seeing as I'm removing Micheal and pretty much any and all staff members who conspired with him, you’ll need to hire your own assisting staff. You have anyone in mind?”

≋≋≋（蜘蛛侠）≋≋≋

“I’m going to lunch!” You call out as you leave your glass paneled office. 

“You want me to go ahead and send out this mass email, dear?” Your mother says from behind her grand desk.

“You let Speshall look at it, right?”

“It’s wordy but I’m sure it’s fine,” Speshall says from her office area. She returns to her phone, “Oh they eloped?! To where?!”

Your new staff has it's own habits but they are much better than the unjust monsters running things before. You walk onto the elevator (the only one since the other two are STILL broken), and the nice Indian man from weeks ago joins you.

"How's life, Arjuna?" You ask.

"Ah, in-laws are staying over for a month."

"Oh? Is that bad?"

"Not really. Let's say I just might jump out a window," he says, slyly.

"Well I know a few custodians perfect for the job!" you blurt out. The both of you crack up laughing. You fortunately don't have to ever see Micheal, Syd, and Brody on a daily basis since O'Hara sent them off to clean in the Alchemax Museum of Tech, but that hasn't stopped you or your friends from making them the butt of all your jokes.

You walk out into the lobby of the Alchemax Business Bureau, where you see your red Maglev Nova outside waiting in the rain. 

“All fueled up, boss!” Says the old receptionist behind the counter. He’s drinking his coffee in peace.

“Thanks, Stan!” You say.

You walk outside to your car. The paint job was redone and all her internal issues gone as she hums cleanly, awaiting your arrival. You open the door to get in.

"HEY!"

You look over the Nova. You see O'Hara across the street.

“Miguel! Hey!” 

“Hey! We doin’ this?”

“Yeah! I got some coupons for double thick enchiladas! Two for the price of one!”

“Ay, you and those coupons! I told you, I’m buying! Woah-“

He steps back as a truck flies past him. It drives right through a puddle, drenching the man. He stands there all stunned; his jacket was folded on his arm and his dress shirt soaked.

He gapes at you and you realize you are staring at the wet shirt clinging to his chiseled body. 

“We- we can stop by the dry cleaners on the way," you stammer as you politely look away.

๋࣭ ⭑🕸 fin 🕸๋࣭ ⭑

Thank you for reading.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara art #Miguel & You #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #kinda but not really #enough to make a rando uncomfortable

[whumpshaped]

are you religious? On account of all the recent bible posting. I'm not Christian myself but I have to hand it to them, the whole "eating Jesus's body and drinking his blood" is really cool

im actually not! well. idk. reading the bible and talking abt it rly makes me wanna be christian again.

tl;dr i am considering accepting jesus christ into my heart but i dont know if itll happen bc whenever i type or say anything slightly religious i cringe or make it into a joke. also sorry to any christian who finds my bible posting

i was raised catholic, went to church and bible study for 3 yrs, did my first communion, then dipped bc it was horrid. i was so so against being catholic u cannot imagine. i was against church, i was against begging some man in the sky for mercy, i was against their gay policy, i was against saying my pets had no soul- i was against absolutely everything except some bops in church

then i had my first big voluntary christian phase at 13-14 in which i drew more towards protestantism and attempted to read the bible cover to cover (i failed but theres a lot that i read.) i went to a lutheran hs for 2 yrs in seventh and eighth grade so that mightve influenced it tho i HATED monday morning worship at 7am and i cant believe its still happening even tho ppl routinely fainted and shit. bc u have to stand. the whole time

i also wanted to be a nun for a goooood while but turns out im just aroace and autistic (chastity and rigid rules sounds amazing to me huh)

so im 21 now and i started writing my angel demon story and i wanted to make heaven a cult like dystopia (and it turned into my own ranting at some points) and i wanted to give cassael actual bible-accurate problems. bible-accurate brainwashing lol it came to me because something i said abt them either on here or in rp made me remember that verse abt the yoke and stuff (my yoke is easy and my burden is light) and i was like wait i should read the bible and pick out the whumpiest worst most horrid most easy to misinterpret and turn horrible verses. so here i am.

but then i got rly rly into it. its remarkably easy to enjoy the story when im not reading the 1908 károli translation and spending all my spoons untangling the wording. and the thing is, i was always spiritual yknow. thats why i bounced so much between faiths and beliefs. ive followed the law of assumption stuff for a year or so now, i had genuine results from it- honestly everything i believed in has yielded good results for me always. whether it be christianity or paganism or loa. when i read the bible i DO feel loved even thru the incredible amount of horrid shit god does lol i felt loved at 13 and i feel loved now. so idk. im withholding judgement until i finish reading it but honestly nobody be surprised if i go back to my christian bs before the semester starts

oh thats another thing. im miserable lmao so not very hard for god to swoop in and be like hey do u wanna talk abt ur lord and saviour. me.

but im not rly gonna change in any way even if i do decide that tho, i think. my policy is already "be kind do good leave others alone". i dont think im gonna get preachy on here or anything. i mean has anyone seen much vegan posting from me? so i think im good

so . yea. sorry it turned into such a long post

#asks #not so holy bible posting

[obsequence]

hi i hope this isn't weird askdjfksdksl, you seem to be much more active on twitter but i REFUSE to make an account on that website BUT a mutual of mine just said something to me about the idea of an au where the rattlers run like. an apocalypse gladiator ring instead and ellie eventually gets caught and stuck there with abby and this is just actually insane we can't believe no one else seems to have had this idea yet??????? my first thought was tell the only ellabs person i know of who is in any way active on social media idk you can tell twitter about this or whatever i just think you need to know. i think ellabs nation (ellabs village really lol) needs to consider the possibilities

1) come to twitter i promise it’s like not that bad i just get into fights a lot 😭

2) i have a new tumblr but it’s under a pseudonym because i’m literally writing x readers and i know people will clown me and think i’m doing it in the “y/n” way (nothing wrong with that) and not the “x readers are a great way to character study without making whole ocs and you’re able to share them with a large audience” way

3) honestly , i really hate fics that have like . anything to do with the rattlers . because they’re just , like , EXTREMELY miserable (hypocritical coming from me , i know) and i deserve a speck of dopamine every now and then . but i will spread the idea ! because tbh it’s pretty good and not done before . just not my thing

4) i’m going to take this as an opportunity to explain why the fuck tl2 isn’t out yet , but it’s going to be a very longwinded self-psychoanalytical bananza , sooo . .

so , tl2 isn’t going to be a multichapter , if it ever gets put out . it’s gonna be a really long oneshot , because if i post it , i want it to be FINISHED so i don’t leave anyone waiting again .

the reason why i have a mental block against writing it right now is because i’m really unhappy about where tl1 left off . i never really liked it honestly , i just felt a bit pressured to get it out asap so i could be done . i reread the first few chapters all the time , and i really consider that its peak , because it started to feel like a chore after chapter six .

it’s hard to write the sequel to something you don’t like . it feels like you can only disappoint (if not others , yourself) and expand on its horribleness , which sounds so melancholy , i know , lol , but it’s the truth . like , how do you fix what’s broken on something you can’t touch ? by adding more that’s broken ? nuh uh . it’s a lot of stress .

also , i just . . need a creative recharge . “spencer , it’s been like five months since you finished tl !!” no i mean like . a year . before i even poke it with a ten foor pole again . LOL it’s that bad . this might change , but that’s how i feel right now .

i’ve been really insecure about my work lately , and i’ve never been able to read original novels or other fics without feeling incredibly envious of others’ talent , and it has sowed a lot of discontent inside of me . so i stopped consuming others’ work for a bit , but that just left me uninspired and in an echo chamber of my own writing without any improvement , so it became hyper-stylized and odd to read , especially months later . i don’t even know what i was trying to accomplish at some points ?? it’s all very odd and tryhard and makes me cringe .

so , right now , my goal is to read more published work lol . i’m reading my childhood favorite “daughter of smoke and bone” right now , and it’s even better than i remember . highly recommend

but yeahhh that’s why tl2 isn’t out sorry 🌸🩷🩷💕🥺🥺🥺

(but like fr i am incredibly sorry)

#asks #my writing #ellabs

[pink-gladioli]

more fanfic crap

note this isn't directly related to my macy middle school au (i mean it takes place in the same world but like its not in the story, ya know what i mean), don't worry im still working on that. this takes place in macys 4th year at the academy, meaing shes 16. you can read this as clacy or not I don't really care. so lets a start this cringe fest!!

St Valentine Days, it wasn’t one of Macy’s favorites holidays. She didn’t hate it, the idea of having a day decimated to love was sweet but, it’s just it could get annoying at times. Every year without fail she would show up to her classes with a mountain of ‘love letters, confessions, or gifts’ from people she barely knew. She wasn’t stupid, she knew a bit under half of the people that gave these um ‘items of affection’ were just hoping to get in a relationship with her for political, economic, or social benefit it would bring their family. But the fact that some of people had the nerve to get mad at her for not choosing their specific ‘love confession’ out of the other 20 she got that morning made her furious. Most of these ‘confessions’ felt like the same copy and pasted letter with a few words moved around the same way they would do for their assignments that way they wouldn’t get flagged for plagiarism. And while she found these letters sweet the first year, she didn’t feel same three years later.

Maybe she would care more if they said something about her as a person, but none of them ever did. She they would say how she was so intelligent, hardworking, kind, and so on but everyone knew that because that how she acted around her peers. Not a single letter, gift, or confession in her four years of attending the Knights Academy ever seemed like the giver felt anything more than simple crush. She got flowers, chocolates, even a power mace once (she made sure to thank the boy who gave her that) but she never got something she truly wanted. Oh how she longed for someone to get her a Ned Knightly comic or a digital copy of “All is Well on the Southern Front,” something personal. But of course, no one looking from an outsider’s point of view would know that and it didn’t help that she was distant with almost everyone in the academy so of course they would get her something vague. She never let anyone too close so how would anyone know her?

Well almost everyone.

She had a small group of friends that she could say knew her. Aaron, Axl, Clay, Lance, and Jestro were her only real friends that she made during her four years at the Knights Academy so whenever St Valentines Day would come around the corner, she would just share her gifts with them.

She thought this year would be no different.

As she walked into her homeroom, she saw a pile of chocolates and cards piled on top of her desk, ‘Great’ she thought ‘More people I need to reject this year, that pile is at least smaller than lasts class so it shouldn’t take too long.’ As she sat down, she opened each card to read them taking note of the people she would have to reject. As she’s reading her fourth cad, she hears a familiar voice.

“Good morning Macy I hope you aren’t planning on eating all of those chocolates, I wouldn’t want you to loose all of your teeth before lunch” Clay jokingly said taking a seat next to her.

“Haha very funny Clay” Macy replies in a sarcastic tone despite the clear smile on her face

“Oh by the way I have a gift for you” Clay says

“Wait what?” Macy said, while she had gotten gifts from Clay before they were never given on Valentine's Day.

As she looked up from her card, she saw Clay reaching into his bag to pull something out. He then turned to face her with a wrapped box in hand.

“What’s in it?” She asks

“I don’t think supposed to tell you.” He replied. Macy just stared at him for a second trying to read his face but all she saw was a face of joy and anticipation. Like he new that she’s going to love whatever was inside that gift. ‘He looks so happy and proud�� she thought.

She reached out and grabbed the gift, it seemed to be inside the box not the box itself. She shook it a bit trying to guess what it was before she opened it. Whatever it was moved around a lot making her it was smaller than the box implied.

‘Maybe a book?’

After a sufficient amount of shaking, she decided to open hoping that her shaking didn’t damage whatever was inside. As she carefully took of the layer of wrapping paper she was met with a plain box.

“Why couldn’t you just wrap the item itself?” Macy asked, faking annoyance

“Wait I’m just supposed to wrap the item?” Clay asked looking a bit distressed at his assumed mistake.

“Relax I’m just messing with you, the fact you got anything is all that matters.” Macy said hoping to clam Clays rising anxiety levels. It seemingly worked as his faced lost its look of fear it had just a few seconds ago.

As Macy turned back to the box in her hand, she flipped it around looking for an opening. She found a piece of tape that seemed to be keeping the box closed so she reached for a pen and stabbed the tape making a small hole she could use to open the box. Clay looked on with a slightly concerned face and said,

“You know you could have used a pair of scissors, right?”

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that?”

When Macy was finally able to open the box she took its contents, a book titled “Ned Knightly Issue 12” but she could easily tell it was much more than that. She quickly turned it to the back looking for the publishment date and there it said June 25, 2002. This was a first edition copy of Issue 12 from over a thousand years ago, how the hell did Clay afford this? This was a collector’s item valued at thousands of times its original price, and Clay wasn’t even an active fan of the Ned Knightly series so how did he even find this? Her own father didn’t even own that issue.

“H-how did you get this?” Macy asked barely being able to get the words out.

“Oh well I was shopping to get you a Valentine's Day gift to show how much I valued our friendship when I passed by the pawn shop and decided to see if there was anything in there you’d like when I saw that comic. I thought that you may like it since it seemed like one of the older issues, sorry if it’s worthless you know I don’t know much about these comics.” Clay said scratching the back of his neck seemingly out of embarrassment.

Macy was shocked, he had gotten her a priceless comic on accident for Valentines Day. She didn’t know what to say so she just hugged him, after carefully putting down the comic of course.

“Ah- I’m assuming you liked it?” Clay said with smile Macy couldn’t see.

“Thank you so much Clay, you have no idea how much this means to me. Even if it was worthless the fact you got something more than just some stupid chocolates means everything to me, thank you so much” Macy could feel herself about to start crying. She was so lucky she thought, to have someone that cared and knew her so well by her side. She silently promised herself to somehow repay him for everything he’s done for her. He was truly the best friend she could ever ask for.

“Wait so it’s not worthless?”

#nexo knights #lego nexo knights #clay moorington nexo knights #clay moorington #macy halbert #macy halbert nexo knights #clacy or claycy I guess #also clay struggles with social ques because i said so #i hc him as autistic and none of y'all can take that away from me

[allaganexarch]

Wait omG a writing meme and I’m NOT LOGGED IN but hmmmm 75 & 76??

HELLO VERY MYSTERIOUS AND UNKNOWABLE FRIEND OKAY LET"S GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?

Hmmmm, so something that happens every so often that really surprises me is someone will leave me a comment on like one of my OLD old fics.  Like The Prisoner is old but it’s had a lot of rewrites and subtle tweaks so it’s like, mostly unembarrrassing LOL.  But I literally can’t read some of my older stuff because it makes me cringe, not even necessarily because it’s bad but more because it’s so clearly a product of the time at which it was written?  I think if someone stumbled onto it not knowing me they probably wouldn’t think it was bad, just maybe average or sometimes above-average fanfic-level writing.

But idk it’s always just nice and surprising when someone stumbles across, e.g. Early to Bed or my earliest Cassandra/Lavellan stuff, or even like says they’ve reread something like that multiple times.  There’s something really beautiful about that to me—that even though it’s not really something I want to read myself anymore, that it’s lost its meaning to me in some ways, it still resonates with someone else!

Generally I’m not overly surprised by what does and doesn’t get traction though—I think what always does surprise me is when people tell me they come back to read certain fics again and again, that really takes me out every time, in the best possible way!

76. How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

Hmmmmm, well, the worst pressure by far is internal.  I want to do a good job, I want to create a story that is up to my standards and do justice to whatever idea I have in my head.  And I have a solid enough technical foundation and, idk, life experience foundation, that usually I feel like I can get to whatever I want to evoke if I work at it enough.  So the biggest frustration for me tends to be “well whatever I write right now is going to be horrible” vs. “sure but if you write SOMETHING now it will be easier to revise later, and also it prob won’t even be as bad as you think.”

I think the main external pressure I feel is just like if I’m writing something for a specific purpose or person then I obviously want that purpose to be served or that person to think it’s good.  So the struggle there is just like, “relax you know what you’re doing you can’t worry about this all the time.”  I take a lot of comfort in knowing that I’m a very harsh critic, and I also like to go back and look at nice things people have said about my writing to boost my confidence during these times LOL

But I think the biggest one is definitely the feeling of "oh even if I did write right now it wouldn't be anything good" that keeps me from writing more than anything else. And the only way I'v ereally found to combat it is literally just "yeah well sucks to suck do it anyway :)"

Fanfiction Writing Asks

#tumblr text editor taking 10 yrs off my life #if the formatting is fucked up that's just an extra little gift from tumblehell to you :) #exciting tag for writing things #exciting tag for answered asks

[mosviqu]

lmao yeahhh at least the self awareness is there it's something iguess😭

i just hope i will grow to like them one day cuz i dont want to let go of the 03liners💔 their choreography and fits were great but i just hope they will get better songs next time or sumn (sorry if there are any boynextdoor fans who are reading this) DUDE SAME I WAS SO HAPPY ABOUT HIM!!!! (jiung is amazingggg) AHHH IM SO EXCITED AS WELL this is probably going to be my fav ep from them judging by the previews or whatever they are called🤭 IM GLAD SUNOO IS APART OF OUR CREW😌JUST A GREAT ADDITION REALLY!! (ooo at least the number of 03liners that i know about is growing xd)

THEY SHOULD JUST HIRE U THEN ACTUALLY LMAO U WOULD BE THE BEST PROTECTOR!!! and now i know that i definitely do not want u to get mad at me🥸

so true but i think writing might be like that as well because before i sent u that ask i literally just didn't really write in english at all😟 IM GLAD U UNDERSTAND ME🥳 ohh god i'm sorry but that's kind of a funny story ur poor roommate😭 I HOPE U GUYS STILL HAVE THEM JUST TO WATCH THEM BACK AND LAUGH (or cringe)

the tiktok algorithm just knows how to get people hooked onto something:o AND YESSS HE IS SO ADORABLE!! i only know them as well in addition with yujin(youngest) and gyuvin(my beloved) but the poor three left just feels like i will never get them😭😭 2hours is just too long of a time istg

IM GLAD U LIKED SOME BUT I THINK I DID VERY BAD WITH THE RECOMMENDATIONS LMAO

(ajhdhdjfj dude when i read ur authors note i also almost cried i started reading it on my bus ride home so i think people thought i was crazy or sumn lmao) and also i can't remember wether i have replied to ur last reply on ur main or did i only reply to it in my head so if u would let me know i would appreciate it.-. (liebestraum anon💕💕)

no bc its so unfortunate i truly hope the next comeback is better 😭😭😭 im sorry boynextdoor fans it just wasnt for me sadly 😔 if the music is good we are more than happy to recruit new 03 line besties to the squad tho!!

THE CB LOOKS SO GOOD i keep hearing the song on tiktok and each time i think its out already and i go check it out and its not. this could be very well prevented if i just checked the cb date but im honestly too lazy so ill just wait for it to appear in my spotify notifs or something 😭😭

I AM THE BEST PROTECTOR its the aries rage and loyality ❤ also being the only daughter of the family helps SSHSJ. also dont worry i usually dont get violently mad at my friends i usually just turn petty on them so. no fights here dw dw AHAHA

no bc if i didnt have tumblr i just wouldnt use english much either LMAO also i feel like that every time i write a fic after a long time i feel like i turn rusty and i just cant get anything out of me 😭😭 takes me a few mins to adapt truly. also i would say poor my roommate but honestly she didnt know what major to pick so she copied me so thats on her 🤷‍♀️ (jk im glad we stuck together ive known her for 4 years now and if it wasnt for her i would be handling uni much worse than i am). ALSO WE DO HAVE MOST OF THEM but some got deleted 😔💔

LITERALLY the tiktok algorithm is my bestie but also my biggest enemy (have i mentioned that i got into wilbur through tiktok. :,)) but yes hanbin is the new love of my life thankyou. i am so excited for their debut TT lets hope i learn their names quickly AHAHA

YOU DIDNT DO BADLY W THE RECOMMENDATIONS I JUST NEED TO BE IN A SPECIFIC MOOD FOR NEW SONGS I GUESS 😭😭 i'll update u on all my next progress w the tbz listening party <3

:(((( crying is strictly prohibited with matters thay include me. /j ((also if u mean on rrxnjun,, i replied to your ask after u sent this one ?? Im not really sure ??? but as of now i have no more asks from u!)

#liebestraum anon

[roadki-ll]

General Post About Lots of Things and I am Bad w/ Titles

Anon hate will never NOT be funny to me. Newsflash: A message like "you are an ableist piece of shit because you say disabilities are disabling" isn't going to make me fucking bow down to you and kiss your fucking boot, man. (Because I cannot really bend over very well due to spinal issues and intense chronic pain. Also I'm not sure boots are all that tasty, especially after you've had your foot up your ass for so long.)

Honestly don't know who's fronting right now. Will? I mean yeah he's here but he's not doing anything. Who the fuck am I?! Blurry = bad.

I'm probably gonna change the theme on both my blogs because readability issues. Also I'm not sure if my text formatting makes it easier or harder for y'all to read.

It is unreasonably hot in my room and I am sweating just sitting here. The air only cuts on at night?!?!?!?

Also decently sure that we have more than 9 in here. Those little fuckers are hiding.

I honestly need to post less probably, I keep obsessively checking tumblr. How have I already gotten this addicted, hm?!

Okay yeah I was gonna go somewhere with this post but I forgot what it was in the middle of writing it so you just get this jumbled mess instead because I think my brain is frying.

Wait it's fucking... it's 7:30 pm?! This day has felt like an hour long, dudes. Dunno if that's a good or bad thing.

Anyways here is Sandy the Squirrel. I forget why I have this image or what prompted me to draw Sandy the Squirrel because I have not watched Spongebob in over a decade.

Brain mush brain mush brain mush and incoherence.

Is it weird to read fanfiction of yourself? No like y/n shit but like... as a fictive... do y'all do that??? I impulsively read fanfiction about myself whenever I'm missing my source and always regret it afterward. Post kudo clarity? Idfk. That was cringe.

Oh thank fuck the air in my room cut on its like over 80 degrees in here. In Fahrenheit. 80 degrees in Celsius equates to 176 in Fahrenheit, and unfortunately those temperatures do not allow a body to continue bodying anymore!

Okay gee, thanks webMD for the very vivid picture. rip your proteins. in all fairness humans aren't that nutritious to begin with, so I'm not sure it really matters. I did not mean for this post to continue, and yet I remain typing.

Okay I think I need to take a nap before my headache worsens. No longer as blurry tho so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[asianhappinesss]

YYY (2020)

Summary

Nott, a handsome inventor lives in an all-boys apartment owned by Porpla, the yaoi fan owner. One day one of Nott's inventions causes an electrical fire destroying Porpla's Yaoi Cds. She decides to kick him out, when a new guy, Pun, an ad celebrity arrives seeking for a room. Knowing about Porpla's fondness for Yaoi, Nott asks Pun to help him stay in the apartment by pretending to be his boyfriend. Pun accepts and pretends to be Nott's boyfriend. But as time passes, the two can't help but eventually fall for each other.

Review

What a mess. This show is the messiest one I’ve ever seen (In the bestest way possible).

This sitcom kind of show aired in the middle of the pandemic, which means that it came at the right time since we wanted to watch things to get our minds off things. We were also taking online courses and the timing of the episode came during the same time as I had a very annoying course to take. So I would just mute the professor and watch YYY on my phone and crack up hoping that the professor would not call my name.

It was a really, really fun show.

- At first I was very attracted to watch it because of the trailer. I saw it was going to be something funny and I wanted some of that. I also saw Talay and I saw Poppy and then Apple and I was like you know what? We’re watching this.

- I really liked Talay from my engineer (I mean who doesn’t). I also obviously know Apple.

- Poppy is actually the one who sold me, I mean Porpla? What an icon. I know him from Why RU? The series, if you’ve already read my review on said show you’ll know that I love Why RU? So obviously when I saw Poppy I was sold.

His character, is supposed to be funny. I don’t think it’s supposed to be mocking anyone since the director (Thanamin) himself is queer. So I don’t believe he’ll be mocking the LGBTQ+ community. I really like Poppy. Like who doesn’t like him in this role anyway. I’m not the biggest Fan of the Domundis that’s for sure but I have a few I like each on their own.

- The storyline was really funny, but there was also lots of almost deep stuff that they included in the storyline between, the two main characters. But I’m not going to lie, it’s the side characters made it for me, which is probably why I did not really enjoy the three episode special that just ended a couple weeks ago (I’ll be going into details to that in my review of the special if I write it.)

This review is going to be really short because the show itself was really short. I hoped for more, but it was really good and I cannot believe that I ended up crying and the last episode. Who would have known? I didn’t think that I’d get attached this much to them. (No one expected to cry.)

I waited for them every week, and didn’t want to let them go.

- I liked the vibe of friendships and mess in the apartment complex. And I, personally, did not mind the shameless Why RU promotion since the show was at its end or had just ended I don’t exactly recall anymore. The use of the same OSTs scarred me but that’s okay.

I don’t really have much to say about acting or anything because it’s all a mess between funny and cringing, good and bad. And I have no idea what to say about that. YYY made our quarantine a lot less heavy without actually having any meaning.

- The beauty of YYY was in it’s funny sitcom like side with all the cast and not just the couple which is probably why I did not really like the special episode and actually found it kind of… boring.

All in all YYY has a good re-watch value for me. And I do recommend it to those who still have not decided if they should watch it or not

#thai lakorn

[lowkis]

you put your hand in mine - chapter 36

summary: when loki falls from the bifrost he lands on earth. isla finds him while out walking her dog one night and takes him under her wing, nursing him back to health as best she can. it’s hard, trying to juggle work, life, and looking after a fallen asgardian prince. with nowhere else to go and limited access to his magic, loki must heal, wait patiently, and adapt while trying to wrap his head around life on earth after everything that happened on the bifrost

LINK TO READ ON AO3

rated: t

words: 3148

tags: post-thor (2011), eventual romance, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, drama, romance, angst, comfort/angst, canon divergence, protective loki, good loki, confused loki, loki needs a hug, he’s trying his best to understand earth, he’s trying his best full stop

read from the beginning: tumblr | ao3 | fic tag

“How did you find me?”

Loki glanced up from where his fingers were trailing up and down Isla’s arm. She’d shivered in both pleasure and delight thanks to his ministrations before promptly turning into a pile of putty beneath his hands.

“Hm?”

“When I was out walking with Maya. How did you find me?”

He tapped a long finger against the pendant pooled on her chest. “I followed the trace my magic left when creating this. Though very faint and diminishing, it was enough to follow.”

Isla lifted the necklace to view it. She turned it over in her hand slowly. “Okay. That’s cool. I didn’t know it worked like that.”

Loki pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her bare shoulder before lying back down beside her. As soon as he did Isla wriggled over and curled close against his side.

Maya lifted her head by their feet. Their movements had been still beforehand but now she’d been interrupted in her rest. After a quick check to ensure they were both all right she settled once more and let out a sigh.

“It doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t?” Isla glanced up at him in surprise. “Then how...?”

Loki pulled her more firmly against him which ended up with Isla practically laying across his chest. “I followed the spark left by its creation. Just as you have told me you can recognise my magic, the pendant holds a part of my magic within it, therefore I could follow the trail it left. I could not discern your location and didn’t hear you call for me.” He peered down at her. “You should have called for me.”

Isla cringed. “I really didn’t mean to get so carried away and wander far. I didn’t even realise. Just as I did, you appeared. I remembered about your necklace and grabbed it as you popped up.”

“I would like to go on these adventures with you, Isla,” Loki murmured as he ran a hand through Isla’s hair. She practically purred as he repeated the action. “Even if duty calls me away I will always have time for you and whatever you wish to do.”

“I know, Loki,” she sighed as her muscles relaxed under his touch.

“Wait for me next time?”

Her eyes cracked open to see Loki looking at her pleadingly. His head lowered so he could press his forehead against hers.

“Please don’t do something like that again. If anything happened to you…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought or entertain it further.

“Of course, Loki.” One hand lifted to cup his cheek. “I will, I promise. I want to do it with you too.” Isla cracked a smile. “I want my space prince guide by my side.”

Loki’s chuckle lightened his features and softened his eyes. “I think I can manage that, my love.”

“Good. Because I wouldn’t take anyone else.”

A kiss was pressed to the inside of Isla’s wrist.

“I have a request, if you’d be willing.” He looked so hopeful, yet hesitant.

“What is it, Loki,” Isla asked kindly. “You can ask me for anything.”

An eyebrow twitched up and his hesitancy fled him. Suddenly he looked far too mischievous. “Anything?”

That earned an eye roll from Isla which made him laugh.

“In all seriousness, I do.” His fingers lightly brushed over the necklace. “There is a tracking spell I can use on this to enchant it. It will allow me a direct link to you at all times and will not be hindered by anything.”

“Like a tracking device?”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. While Isla had no issue being tied to Loki or him knowing her location, the idea of being tracked was… strange. It left her feeling slightly uneasy, even though it was only Loki who would know.

Loki nodded. “Purely to be used in case of emergency. Such as this afternoon if I am suddenly unable to find you. It is a simple locator spell and if you prefer, if it would make you more comfortable, I can change the necklace into something else?”

“I have no problem with you knowing where I am in an emergency, Loki.” She thought back to the initial visit from Thanos and swallowed. About what might have happened if Loki hadn’t been with SHIELD and hadn’t been informed of the invasion happening on her home. It would settle some of her worries, at least, knowing he could find her in a crisis. “I want you to do it.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows lifted as he implored her to think upon his suggestion further.

Isla nodded. “I’m sure. Although the idea of being tracked is odd and strange it would make me feel better knowing you were out there and that you had my back should I need it.”

He exhaled slowly at her acceptance and nodded. His fingertips glowed green and gold before he lowered them to touch upon the pendant. It warmed considerably and Isla gasped softly at the feeling of it. It warmed her skin, leaving her slightly flushed, before it cooled. It hummed against her skin with Loki’s magic and made her smile.

“Thank you, Loki.”

“My love, thank you,” he murmured earnestly. “You have eased my soul with your faith and trust in me.”

“You will always have them, Loki.” Isla drew him in close for a kiss. “In everything.”

His kiss turned fierce as Loki tugged Isla with him as he lay back down on the bed.

“Have you made a decision about where you wish to stay while I am gone,” Loki asked as his hand skimmed up and down her back.

Isla nodded. “I’d like to go home to see my parents.”

“As you wish, Isla.”

“I know you’d probably prefer me to stay here but…” Isla bit her lip. “I need to know they’re okay. I need to be with them to stop worrying myself in circles when I’m alone.”

Loki was contemplative for a moment and didn’t meet her eyes. “Are you worried for them now?” His question was a quiet. Only a murmur.

Isla nodded. “Only because I know what’s coming,” she whispered.

“Isla, no harm will come to them. I promise you this.”

Her smile was small, but grateful. “Thank you, Loki. But I can’t help but worry.”

“If I have to bring them all to Asgard, I will. They will not be left to fend for themselves.”

“I’m sure the King would love that,” Isla muttered.

“He will have no choice. I swore an oath to you, and it extends to your family. My word is binding.”

“Binding, huh?”

He smirked at the way she glanced up at him through her eyelashes.

“Does that please you, my love?”

Loki clutched gently at her neck. His fingers curled around it, securing her in place, as he moved his lips to brush feather light against hers. He didn’t kiss her yet, though. He hovered above her, teasing her, causing Isla’s breathing to quicken in anticipation.

Whatever Loki had said completely fled Isla’s mind and she didn’t answer his question. When he noticed, Loki pulled back slightly and lifted an eyebrow questioningly as his smirk returned.

“Well, my love?”

“Well, what?”

He chuckled and kissed her sweetly, putting her out of her misery. Isla nearly whimpered at how loved and cherished she felt with that one action alone.

“I was simply asking if you enjoyed the fact that I was bound to you. Does it please you to know the control you have over a God?”

His smile turned wolfish.

Isla giggled and rolled her eyes. “As if I could ever have control over you.”

Loki hummed. “My love, you have no idea.”

“Loki?”

Her confusion was evident, which Loki appeared to find adorable.

“There is nothing I would not do for you, Isla. No length I would not go to for you. You will never be left wanting, for I would do everything in my power to give you anything you asked for.”

She gaped up at him.

“If you asked me to destroy a world for you, I would do so.”

“Oh… my…” Not that she would ever ask him to do such a thing, of course, but that was… quite a declaration.

“I love you with everything I am,” Loki murmured as a finger stroked the skin of her face, moving from temple to chin, which he grasped gently within his long fingers. “Like I never have towards any other before.”

Tears sprang to her eyes as her skin flushed with pleasure and the intensity of his words.

“Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life now.” Her laugh was watery as Loki gently wiped away her escaping tears. “I love you, Loki. It runs so deep that it… astounds me.” Her tears fell faster now but her smile was bright like the sun as she looked at him.

His own happiness was reflected within his eyes. Those deep oceans that Isla would dive headfirst into with no hesitation every time.

“You are my everything.” She blushed at her deeply honest confession, but an overwhelming sense of rightness settled on her bones. Isla knew deep in her heart that this was the truth.

“As you are mine.”

The words curled around her body and held her tight, just like Loki’s arms. He held on tight to her, just as she did, and the pair simply existed together. Nothing more needed to be said. They lay there in the dawn light in their own little bubble, perfectly content to exist in each other’s arms for as long as fate would allow it.

If Isla could bottle up this moment and live in it forever, she would. She’d never felt such peace before or felt such deep, never-ending love. When she clung onto Loki tighter with her revelation he returned the gesture in kind. Fingers ran gently through her hair before a kiss was tenderly pressed against the top of her head.

She was so cherished and loved.

Isla let out a quiet, happy sigh and drifted on Loki’s love, enjoying their moment of peace while they had it.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Thor was waiting for them both as they stepped into the Observatory of the Bifrost.

“Good morning, Brother.” He winked at Isla. “Sister.”

Apparently, getting a rise out of her by insinuating she and Loki were married tickled him.

He was just as mischievous as his brother.

“Brother,” Loki nodded. His smile was wry as he noted the blush on Isla’s cheeks but didn’t push further to avoid making her feel uncomfortable.

Not that Isla was completely uncomfortable with the insinuation, or didn’t yearn for what it meant, but it was… so soon. They’d only known each other a few months. And while Frigga had explained with great amusement that Asgardians did things differently – and much more quickly – than those on Midgard, it was still a culture shock.

Isla would adore to tie herself to Loki and marry him, but it was still a concept to get used to. Not to mention the issue of her mortality.

Would she really want Loki to tie himself to her when she would be gone in a few decades, leaving him behind? Alone?

Thoughts and worries for another time.

 And bless him, Loki respected her and didn’t push anything further.

Just subjected her to teasing from his brother.

They landed back on earth close to where she and Loki had last time when they’d visited her parents. Their house was just across the street. Maya had already let out a happy bark upon spying her doting grandparent’s house, ready to be spoiled for the few days they’d be staying with them.

“This is where we must part ways,” Thor announced.

Loki lifted Isla’s hand to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

She watched every movement as he did so. The way an eyebrow twitched upwards and how his love shone through his eyes. How his smile lit up his face and softened the hard edges she’d first seen so many months ago. She memorised every feature, every line, and was overcome with the urge to leap into his arms and never left him go.

So she did.

“Isla,” Loki chuckled with amused delight, but his tone was gentle and soothing as well. Understanding. A hand ran down her back as he eased her fears without her even voicing them.

“Be safe,” she whispered against the skin of his throat.

“Always.”

Their kiss lingered. Isla felt a tightness wrap around her heart and squeeze as he pulled back slowly.

She didn’t want him to go.

It felt like he’d been with her for so long, nearly a lifetime, and now he was leaving. Albeit temporarily, but she didn’t like the idea of being parted from him. Especially not when she knew what he was potentially going off to face.

To busy her hands she straightened the lapels of his overcoat, however it was already sitting perfectly upon his lithe frame. Isla trailed her eyes down his body, noting his Asgardian armour and committed that to memory too.

“Come back to me,” she whispered down to is boots.

 “Isla…” Loki sighed when he heard her breath catch as she tried to hold back a few tears.

It was silly, really, but she couldn’t help it. Not when the memory of their last time facing Thanos here on earth flashed through her mind.

Just as he’d professed to her a few days ago in the bliss of their cabin, if anything happened to Loki Isla didn’t know how she’d cope without him.

Her chin was quickly guided back up to face him.

“My love, I cannot leave you like this.”

“No,” she shook her head, taking a deep even breath. “I’ll be fine. Sorry, I was just having a moment.” She smiled but Loki’s expression turned dismayed when he spied the sheen she knew would be in her eyes.

“Lady Isla, you have nothing to fear,” Thor interjected gently. “I will be with my brother. I’ll keep him out of trouble,” he quipped with a grin.

“You better,” she replied sternly, but kept her smile light. “Both of you better keep each other out of trouble,” she added, waggling her finger at the two brothers.

“Yes, dear,” Loki replied dutifully, causing Thor to snort. He shot his brother a scowl and stuck his tongue out at him.

Their banter made her heart lighter.

“I promise I will come back to you. You have my word.”

Isla nodded and exhaled slowly.

“Now, are you all right?”

She nodded again and her smile was genuine.

Loki wasn’t alone. He had Thor with him. That thought alone helped her push down all her fears and worries.

“I am. I’ll hold you to that promise,” she added while lowering her voice. “If you do then we can talk about… us.”

His head cocked to the side and his brows furrowed, not understanding.

“About what your brother is rather insistent upon with his endearments towards me,” she explained cryptically.

Loki’s confusion lingered then he froze. He blinked at her. Then blinked at her again.

“Are you bribing me, Lady Isla,” Loki teased lightly, cheekily, but there was a hint of hope and trepidation behind what he said. As if he didn’t dare believe what she was saying but hoped with all his heart it was the truth.

She laughed but shook her head and took a deep breath. Sincerity replaced her amusement and Loki stilled when he noticed. “I’m not teasing. I’m…” She took a deep breath, knowing in her heart this was what she wanted, despite her reservations and fears for the future. “I’m serious. We can talk about it.”

“My love…”

The kiss he gave her left her feeling breathless and giddy.

Thor just laughed quietly to himself in the background but at least he’d turned his back to give them some privacy to have their moment.

“The moment I return…” Loki brushed Isla’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“Better get that butt moving then huh, My Prince?”

He let out a small growl and grinned at the challenge. “As my lady commands.”

After a final, dizzying kiss, the two brothers set off. Thor clapped – more like thumped – Loki enthusiastically on the back and offered his congratulations. Loki grumbled and snapped at his brother to get off him, but Isla still caught the grin on his face.

He looked so boyish and ecstatic when he turned to see her a final time, sporting a dopey smile, before they walked through the portal to the SHIELD building. He even offered her a jovial wave which made her heart soar as Isla returned it.

Her worries still teased the back of her mind, but she was happy. Excited for the future she and Loki were building and looking forward to the brothers return.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Isla spied a flash of red through the frosted glass at her parent’s front door. Her heart rose into her throat and excitement flashed through her body as she lengthened her strides to hurry to the door.

Her face lit up when she opened the door and saw Thor.

She felt relief wash over her body. They’d returned –

Before she promptly froze.

Loki wasn’t with him.

Her stomach clenched and when Thor turned Isla felt bile burn her throat.

He had a graze on his forehead – not deep – which was seeping blood. A hand clutched at his side to cover an injury. Glancing down Isla say his hand was covered in blood and her blood froze within her veins. Thor looked rather worse for wear, bloodied and beaten. Crushed. His eyes swam with emotion, the most prominent being regret. Pain came a close second.

“Lady Isla…”

Even his voice was filled with sorrow.

“Loki?” She just managed to choke out his name. It sounded like a bark as she tried to force it around the lump forming in her throat.

“Lady Isla –”

“Where is he?”

A deathly calm settled over them both, as though time were standing still.

She could barely breathe as she waited for him to answer.

“Thanos…” Thor sighed, and he appeared to age before her very eyes. Regret and grief weighed him down, squashing him beneath their combined weight.

“No…”

Horror burned through every vein in her body, filled every cell. She felt hot. Too hot. Like she was burning on the inside.

Blood roared in her ears and she didn’t hear her parents calling out to her and asking what was wrong. She didn’t hear Maya’s concerned whine as she appeared by her side. She didn’t feel her tongue licking her fingers. How could she when her world was cracking at the seams?

“Thanos and his army attacked SHIELD. Loki was taken by the Titan by force.”

feel free to leave a comment and kudos on ao3 :)

like and reblogs are much appreciated <3

#loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x original female character #loki #you put your hand in mine #likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) #my fic

[otherwiseromantic]

hey babe come over | awtto | 1k words

you're playing flash games with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he downloaded snapchat for you, but he downloaded snapchat for you...

#hiiiiiiii im back :] #awtto #waterparks #dont have much to say abt this one. frankly im slightly embarassed #ah well #WAIT I MEAN go read it its very good and not cringe or anything :) #ok byeeeeeeeeee #arika writes

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’) 

Prompt:  Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.  

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.  

*

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

*

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.  

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher geralt #Geralt #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #the witcher series #the witcher fandom #the witcher x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x oc #the witcher netflix #Witcher #witcher fanfiction #witcher x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #anonymous #anon <3 #fic prompts #fanfiction requests #fanfic #fanfiction

[lys1]

Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words. 

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana #asra lemon #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x female reader #writing #fanfic #arcana smut #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra fanfic

[incendiobrock]

The Witches Forest

Request: heyy idk if u do requests but if u aree then can you do one where the reader is a witch and is dating colby so she goes on one of the haunted trips w them and does some reading idkk you can end it however you like <33 tyy! 

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I loosely based this imagine off the witches forest video on the Sam and Colby channel but instead of the witch from the video giving the reading it was y/n, and instead of Colby getting lost in the forest it was y/n. Hope you enjoy! Also this was loosely inspired by an imagine I read by @annab-nana you can read it here!

Warnings: sexual joke (I think that’s it)

------------------------------------------------------------

It was a typical day with the trap boys. Your boyfriend Colby had finally convinced you to go on a haunted trip with them. The only reason you had agreed was because he had promised you, and Corey, that there wouldn’t be any seances. You would all be going to just spend the night there, not summon anything.

In fact, Sam was planning on doing a cleansing ritual that he had done some research on. So, you agreed. You were always super worried about the boys and the trouble that they would find themselves in, especially with demonic entities and spirits. 

One of the other reasons you had agreed to do the video with them was because you knew that the fans have been begging for you to make an appearance. Colby got tweets and comments daily about his “witchy girlfriend” joining in on a haunted overnight video. All the fans knew that you were super into crystals, and tarot cards, and different herbs, and just about anything that you believed would help protect you and connect you to the world of spirituality.

So here you were, sitting in front of the camera, Colby right by your side, his ring clad hand holding onto your thigh, as the rest of the guys surrounded the table. “Okay, who’s ready for the reading?” You questioned, looking around the table. Everyone nodded and agreed to begin. You passed the tarot deck to each of the boys, instructing them to shuffle the deck while thinking of their intention for the trip to The Witches Forest. Everyone did as told and passed the deck back to you, you were the last to shuffle.

“Alright, so I’m going to pick the top three cards and then we can go over what they each mean for us, and for the trip we are about to go on.” You stated, gently flipping over the top three cards, The Tower, The Nine of Swords, and the card of Death.

You felt the room tense as they all read the cards chosen. “It’s not bad.” You said, trying to calm everyone’s nerves. “Uh- I don’t know about you but a card that says death seems pretty bad to me.” Corey said, laughing out of fear.

“Yeah babe, what does that mean besides ‘we are going to die?’” Colby air quoted the last part. “Will you guys just give me a minute to explain it?” You laughed at your boyfriends face as his eyebrows remained scrunched on his forehead, looking desperately at you for answers. You went on to explain that death could signify the “death” of an era and the beginning of something new. The Nine of Swords means that their own thoughts can weigh them down, or cause a feeling of darkness, and The Tower means danger, chaos, but also liberation. 

“See, so nothing is necessarily bad. It actually seems like this might be good for you guys, especially since we are planning on doing the fire ritual too. That way you can begin a new journey and have a nice cleansed path before the next moon cycle begins.” You stated, leaning your head on Colby’s shoulder and cuddling into his side. He placed a short kiss onto your forehead taking hold of your hand, “Alright so let’s get on the road we don’t want it to get too dark before we set up the tent, plus it’s about an hour drive.” Colby said to the group, still holding your hand as you both stood up to go get into the car.

About an hour later you had all arrived at the forest. Colby had parked the car a little off the dirt path in a small clearing between the trees. You were happy to get out of the car to stretch after having to sit between Jake and Corey in the backseat. You brought along a small backpack of stuff like a water, first aid kit, a flashlight, and most importantly some crystals that offer protection. You took out the small ziploc with the crystal and began to give one to each of the boys, telling them to keep their crystal in their pockets for protection. 

Sam had asked you to explain to the camera what all you had brought so you showed him the black tourmaline, amethyst, and the obsidian, saying that they each offered protection and grounding properties. “Alright, now that we got our protection rocks let’s go pitch the tent we will be staying in all night.” Sam said, shutting off the camera. You all stood around trying to help as Colby did most of the work putting the tent together. You were impressed with his skills, never knowing that he could set up a tent with little to no instruction.

“Dang brother, those Cub Scout skills are really showing right now.” Jake joked, sticking the last spoke into the dirt. “Thanks brother, you know I’m skilled with these hands.” Colby responded, sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks heated up as a small laugh escaped from your mouth. Leave it to Colby to make a sexual joke that makes the guys cringe. 

After a little exploring all together, and almost losing the location of the tent, you had all decided it was time to start the fire ritual. You were glued closely to Colby’s side, hearing a lot of motion within the trees. “Once we get the fire going maybe we will feel better, the light and heat should scare off any animals that are near.” Sam said grabbing the fire bucket that he had brought for this ritual.

Colby lit the fire and you all sat around in camping chairs. “We should’ve brought s’mores bro.” Corey said, trying to alleviate some of his fear. You agreed with him because you knew you felt the same fear as him at the moment. Sam explained what was going to happen with the fire ritual and passed out the objects that everyone was going to be throwing into the fire, in hopes to release any possible spirits that were attached to them. As soon as you guys started to watch the stuff burn Colby flew back, falling with his camping chair.

“Did you guys see that! Right there! Right behind Jake! Sam? Did you see it, it was like a shadow and it moved super fast right behind Jake’s head.” Colby yelled, standing quickly off the ground and shining a flashlight in that direction. “I saw that too!” You said, abandoning your camping chair as well. Colby took hold of the camera and began walking away from the fire and towards the trail. “Colby! Wait for us bro you can’t go alone!” Sam yelled out, chasing after him. “I have to go, I know I saw something I need to see where it’s going before it gets away, I wanna capture it on camera!” Colby said.

“Someone has to stay by the fire we can’t all leave! Jake you stay here with Corey and we will go investigate.” Sam instructed, but Jake hesitated wanting to go too. Corey ended up agreeing on staying by the fire so you three could keep up with Colby who was still walking quickly away from the group. You thanked Corey, worried that your boyfriend would get too far ahead of everyone. You began to jog to the path, already extremely behind the others because of the sudden panic. 

You turned onto the dirt path and didn’t see any of the three boys, but could barely make out their voices in the distance. You began to jog down the path, heading to the left. You had felt like you were getting closer to them but their voices still remained faint and incoherent. You knew that Sam had yelled for everyone to stay on the path in order to avoid getting lost so you kept jogging further and further into the forest, away from the fire where Corey sat.

You slowed to a walk, shining your flashlight all around, hearing tons of branches snapping and rustling. You suddenly felt very alert, almost as if something was watching you. You felt the panic really set in as it became harder and harder for you to catch your breath. “Colby!” You yelled. “Colby! Sam! Jake! Corey!”  You knew you had made a mistake going this far down the path. “Hello?! Can anyone hear me!” You heard a scream off in the distance making your eyes basically bulge out of your head. You turned sharply towards the direction of the noise, shining your flashlight out in front of your face. Your hands were trembling, shaking the light violently. Not only was it freezing out, but you were terrified of what was out there.

You began running back the opposite direction of the trail, your breath almost nonexistent at this point, but you were determined to make it back to the tent. You heaved, feet stomping away at the dirt path beneath. After what felt like a century, you saw the distant glow of the fire. You ran, the victory of reuniting with the boys fueling your return. The fire was now in clear sight as well as the figures of the four boys you were so anxious to see. The noise of you approaching causing them all to turn and look at you. 

You practically leapt into Colby’s arms, tears pouring down your face as you wrapped tightly around his torso. His hand found its way straight to your hair, pulling you as close as he could to his body, swaying you side to side. “Oh my god, baby. Where were you? I was so worried! I thought I had lost you.” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair trying to soothe your crying. “I-I was running after you a-and then I got lost. I heard a s-scream, I’m so scared.” You sobbed, never wanting Colby to let go of you.

“We looked all over, we were calling your name like crazy but Jake said we should come and wait by the fire incase you came back. We didn’t want to keep moving further away from you on accident.” Sam said, standing closely near you and Colby. 

“Can we please go? I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” You pleaded, looking into Colby’s eyes as his delicate fingers helped to wipe away your tears. “Yes, of course. I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe. Let’s head to the back up plan, the cabin.” Colby said, directing the last sentence to the boys. You nodded gratefully, making your way into Colby’s car while Jake, Corey, and Sam packed up the mess. 

The night was getting foggier as you pulled into the driveway of Jenna’s cabin. You felt relief rush over you, knowing that you wouldn’t have to spend another second in the Witches Forest. You all got out of the car and huddled by the front door, rain beginning to pour down. Sam took off his backpack digging through it to find the spare key Jenna had lent him. “Uh, Colby did I give you the key earlier?” Sam asked. Colby let go of your hand and patted his pockets down, “No I don’t think I have it. Is it in your pockets?” He responded, recapturing your hand in his, knowing that you were still shaken up about getting lost. Sam flipped his jean pockets inside out, no key to be found. He began pulling everything out of his backpack, searching deep into the bag for the key.

“Let’s go back into the car maybe I left it in there.” Sam said, heading straight back to Colby’s car. You all got back in as the rain continued to pour, Sam searching every inch of the vehicle. “I can’t believe you lost the key Sam, first Y/n goes missing and now this?” Jake says from the backseat, obviously frustrated. “It’s not all my fault okay? You think I meant to lose the key?” Sam snapped back, the tension in the car rising. 

After a lot of searching, the key was no where to be found. Much to your dismay, you had to go back to the tent in the depths of the forest. You all huddle into the blue tent, slipping into your sleeping bags. It was only a few more hours until daylight, a few more hours before the suffering would end.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I lost you once tonight and it was the scariest moment of my life. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” Colby vowed, pulling you into his chest. You smiled at his kind words, despite how scared you were he always knew how to make you feel safe. “Thank you Colby, I love you so much.” You responded, nuzzling further into his chest. “I love you, to new beginnings.” He chuckled, referencing the tarot reading from earlier. “To new beginnings.” You agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss on the lips.

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagines #Sam and Colby #jake webber #Corey Scherer

[c-is-for-circinate]

Wait, isn't "anti" stuff more like "anti-pedophilia" and stuff? Like, you have a point about anti-porn attitudes, but from what I've heard just "anti" on its own means against stuff like kid porn and incest porn and legitimately f*cked up sh*t like that.

Okay!  So this, I think, is actually a great example of what I was talking about, and a really useful thing to understand.  (CW rape, child abuse, etc)

Smarter people than me have written much better essays about why policing thoughtcrimes is a bad road to go down, and I will probably reblog some of them next time they cross my dash for more context.  What I want to talk about is the trigger mechanism, the ‘oh, this looks like danger!!!’ immune response in how we look at different kinds of porn, and how that applies to anti culture.

Here’s the thing: I am anti-pedophilia.  I think that, for most people, that’s a stance that largely goes without saying!  Adults who prey on children are bad.  I’m also against incest; relatives who prey on their family members are bad.  Above all I oppose rape.  Sexual predation of any kind is bad.  In fact, I’d say that’s the most important item on the list.  There is plenty of room to argue about where the lines are between ‘adult’ and ‘child’ and how teenagers fit in the middle, and there’s plenty of room to get historical about the lines between ethically terrible incest, distasteful-but-bearable “aristocratic inbreeding” between distant cousins, and the kind of consanguinity that tends to develop in a small town where everyone’s vaguely related to everyone else by now anyway.  The core of the issue is consent, and it has always been consent.  Pedophilia and incest are horrific because they are rape scenarios where the abuser has far more power and their victim far fewer resources to cope, both practically and emotionally; because harm to children is, to us as a culture, worse than harm to adults, for a lot of very valid reasons; and because they constitute betrayal of trust the victim should have been able to put in their abuser as well as rape--but they are all rape scenarios, and that’s why they’re awful. 

These things are bad.  It is good for us to have a social immune response system that recognizes these things when they’re happening and insists we step in.  That is a good thing to develop!  It helps us, as a society.  It can help the people being victimized.  It’s the same reason educators and childcare workers in the US are all mandated reporters, why we do background checks on people working near kids.  These things happen, and they’re terrible, and it’s good that we try to be aware and prepared for them.  (Though obviously studies show we’re a lot less good at protecting the vulnerable than we’d like to pretend we are.)

The question is: why does that same social immune response trigger, and trigger so angrily, in response to fiction?

Anti culture is fundamentally an expression of that social immune response.  Specifically, it’s that social immune response when it is set off by a situation that, while it has some similarities to the very bad real-life crime of sexual predation including pedophilia and incest, is in and of itself harmless.

If you’re instinct is to flare up in anger or dismissiveness because I’m calling these things harmless, I want to ask you to just take a deep breath and bear with me for a bit longer.  What you’re feeling right now is an allergic reaction.

Humans tell and read and listen to stories about “legitimately fucked up shit” all the time.  It’s part of the human condition.  It’s part of how we process those things happening, not just to use, but to other people in the world around us.  It’s part of how we process completely unrelated fucked-up shit, playing with fears and furies and insecurities that we all have, through so may layers of fiction that we don’t even recognize them any more, playing with power dynamics in metaphor and making characters suffer for fun.  Aside from the fact that literally all stories do this to some extent or another; aside from the fact that drawing lines between ‘ok that’s good storytelling’ and ‘that’s too fucked-up to write about’ is arbitrary, subjective, and dangerous in its own right; aside from all of that, these stories are stories.  All of them. 

Even the ones about rape, about incest, about pedophilia.  They’re words on a page.  No real children were harmed, touched, or even glanced at in the making of this work of fiction.  This story, pornographic though it may be, is part of a conversation between consenting adults.  (And if a teenager lies about their age to consent, that is a different problem altogether.)

Stories in and of themselves, no matter what they’re about, are no more dangerous than a crate full of oranges.  Which is to say: utterly harmless, unless all you have to eat is oranges, all day every day, and you find yourself dying slowly of nutrient deficiency--which is why representation matters.  Or unless someone wields one deliberately, violently, as a tool to cause harm, and someone gets acid in their eye--which is the fault of the person holding the orange. And unless you happen to be allergic to citrus.

The key here is this twofold understanding:  First, the thing that hurts you can also have value to others.  Real, legitimate value.  Whether you’ve undergone trauma and certain story elements are straight-up PTSD triggers or you just don’t like orange juice, that story, those tropes, that crate of oranges may be somewhere between icky and fundamentally abhorrent--but we understand that that is still your reaction.  Even if you don’t understand how anybody could ever enjoy it; even if every single person you surround yourself with is as sensitive and disgusted and itchy about this thing that makes your eyes hurt and your throat stop working as you; that doesn’t make it true for everyone.  That doesn’t make oranges poisonous.  No real children were involved in the writing of this story.  It is words on a page.

But, secondly: the thing that has value to others can also hurt you.  Just because a story isn’t inherently poison doesn’t mean it can’t cause you, personally, pain.  That’s what a PTSD trigger is: an allergic reaction, psychological anaphylaxis, a brain that’s trying so hard to protect its own from a threat that isn’t actually present (but was once, and the brain is trained to respond) that it causes far more harm and misery than the trigger itself possibly could.  And no, it’s not just people with PTSD who sometimes get hurt by stories.  There are many, many ways a story can poke the part of your brain that says, this is Bad, I don’t like this, I don’t want to be here.  The story is still, always, every time, pixels on a screen and ink on paper.  The story causes no physical harm.  But it can poke your brain into misery, it can stir up your emotions, it can make you want to cringe and run away.  It can make you want to scream and fight and go after the author who brought this thing into existence.  It can make you hurt.

This is an allergic reaction.  This is your brain and body, your reflexes and instincts, trying to protect you from something that isn’t really happening.  And just like a literal allergic reaction, it can do actual harm to you if it gets set off.  This is real.  The fact that stories can upset you to the point of pain and mental/emotional injury is real, even though it’s coming from your own brain and not the story itself.  There are stories you shouldn’t read.  There are stories I shouldn’t read, regret reading, will never read, because they hurt me.  That doesn’t mean they’re the same stories that would hurt you.  That doesn’t mean they don’t have value.

And, finally:

If getting upset about stories is fundamentally an individual person’s allergic reaction, their brain freaking out and firing off painful survival instincts in the face of a thing that isn’t, in and of itself, a threat?  Then the anti movement is a cultural allergic reaction.

Fandom as a whole has a pretty active immune system, which doesn’t mean we have a good immune system.  We try very hard to be aware of all the viruses and -isms and abuse and manipulation and cruelty, both systematic and individual, that exists around and within our community.  We’re primed and ready to shout about things at all times.  The anti movement is that system, that culture, screaming and shouting and fighting at a harmless thing on a grand scale.  It wants to stop that thing, that scary awful thing that trips all of its well-primed danger sensors, at all costs.  It’ll swell up and block off our airways (our archives) if it has to.  It’ll turn on the body it came from.  It’s scared and protective and trying to fight, and it’s ready to fight and destroy itself.

Luckily, fans and fanfic and fandom and fan culture are a lot bigger and older than they often get credit for, and it’s not like these cultural allergies are anything new.  We could talk about shippers and slashers in the X-Files fandom in the 90s.  We could talk about the birth of fandom in the days of Star Trek.  We could talk about censorship and book burning going back centuries.  We survived that and we’ll survive this, too.

But god, does the anti movement my throat and eyes itch.  Man is it irritating, and sometimes a little suffocating, to realize how many stories just aren’t getting told out of fear of what the antis will say.  And that’s the real danger, I think.  What are we losing that would have so much value to someone?  What are we missing out?

#fandom #anti culture #anti-anti #I guess? #asked and answered #you are not WRONG or BAD or BROKEN if a story hurt you #but neither is the story #Anonymous #anti discourse day

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #Spencer reid fic #Spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fics #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n

[harryspet]

off to the races | s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, murder/violence, a hint of peter x reader, hint of forced regression, sexy stuff, unprotected sex (wear condoms kiddos), hella angst 

A/N: I do not stan lana del rey but I do stan off to the races :)

In which you call the kingpin your Daddy. 

word count: 4.9k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes​ 

God, do they have to play this song every night? 

You tried to tune out the annoying pop song, continuing to grind your hips against the man you were giving a small lap dance. You wondered how long you could grind against his beer belly before he finally requested a private dance. Lucky for you, you felt some cash being slipped between the lace of your turquoise, panty set. You turned around, a mischievous smile on your face, as you reached out to grab his tie. 

He was mesmerized by you as you expected, and you imagined that he was dying to see more of your scantily clothed body. A hundred dollars for fifteen minutes in a private room. If you could manage to get a few more private dances tonight, you’d consider yourself successful. 

You brought him to one of the back rooms and got to work. You let him run his hands over your bottom but once they started to reach between your legs, you knew what to do, “Ah, ah, ah, you know the rules,” You hid your frustration behind your sultry voice. You climbed on his lap, straddling him, as you reached around to undo your top. Beneath the lacy top were your breast but decorated in shiny gemstones. 

A lot of the other girls hated glitter and spending time doing stuff like applying tiny gems but you knew that it was another shiny thing for men to look at. You needed their attention. Besides, you didn’t mind the way it looked either. His eyes were wide and he gripped your bottom as you moved your breast, an inch away from his face. 

When the fifteen minutes were over, you quickly collected your top and fastened it back on, “Come and see me soon, baby,” You said something of that nature, all your words blurred together by the end of the night. 

You managed to get about four more private dances and as one a.m. approached, you were ready to be anywhere else but here. You headed underneath the neon exit sign, heading for the locker rooms, where it seemed a lot of girls were on their way out. You passed naked, sweaty bodies, and clouds of spray deodorant as you made your way to your locker, already slipping out of your tall heels. 

The first thing you pulled out was your money bag and you were careful when you were counting each dollar bill, tucking it away nicely. You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning around to see Wanda, red lollipop in one hand, and a white check in the other. Your eyes widened as soon as you read the number, “I’m missing fifty bucks,” You told her. 

She gave you a knowing look, “Late fee, Y/N.”

“I was a minute late! I even called and told him my train was late,” Angrily, you stuffed your money bag into your duffle bag.

“He’s not in a good mood, some suit was talking with him earlier,” Wanda shrugged, sensing she had bigger things to worry about. Like you, she made her money dancing and was trying to get by supporting herself, “I wouldn’t argue with him today.” 

“Screw that, fifty dollars is the difference between me making rent. He can’t do this,” You slammed your locker closed and you were about to storm off when Wanda grabbed your arm. 

“C’mon, we should go. Clint is gonna walk us to the station and he won’t wait for you.”

“I won’t be long,” You shrugged her off, making your way out of the dressing room, and toward Loki’s office. He controlled every part of the Mischief club, set the prices, chose the dancers, and even had a strict list of clientele. It wasn’t the nicest club you’d worked at but it was the closest thing to a consistent paycheck. 

You didn’t bother knocking, knowing that you had a point to make and only a certain amount of time to say it, “Fifty dollars! Are you serious-” You stopped in your tracks, realizing that your boss was not alone. Not only was he not alone, but you were also in deep shit. Steve Rogers sat across from the playboy club owner and, looking at the handsome silver-fox, you thought your heart might explode out of your chest. 

He’d found you. 

He smiled as soon as he saw you, “Babydoll,” A name you’d usually swoon at, made you cringe inside. There he was, clad in an expensive suit and dark overcoat. 

Your eyes met with those of Sam and Bucky who had made themselves comfortable by one of the tall bookcases, waiting for their boss to command them to do something. As Steve’s eyes raked over your body, you realized they’d never seen you like this. 

“You know her?” Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, an eyebrow raised, “... sir.” He added quickly. You don’t know why you were so surprised by this, knowing that Steve was feared everywhere, and Loki, no matter how evil, wouldn’t be the one to challenge him.

“I saw you perform tonight,” Steve spoke to you and, in his mind, you imagined that you were the only one he was seeing right now, “You looked beautiful.”

You hadn’t realized that you probably looked like you’d just seen a ghost. You tried to let go of some of the tension in your body, “What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice from faltering and, considering that you were half-dressed, you tried not to let your insecurities overwhelm you. 

“As of a few minutes ago, I am the sole owner of the Mischief Club,” Your heart had stopped its pounding and now it was sinking into your stomach, “If you have any grievances with your employer, you can speak to me-”

“This isn’t your side of the city,” Your lip trembled, anger bubbling within you, “Why … y-you . . . Steve, you can’t do this.”

“Every part of this city is mine, Babydoll,” He sighed, standing up from his chair, reminding you of his large, intimidating frame. Reminding you that you were nothing compared to him. You didn’t move as he crossed the room, moving until he was only standing an inch from you, slowly reaching out his hand until he was touching your cheek, “Chasing you made me realize that I should expand my influence. A club like this is a shit hole now but, in a few months, I’d make it a cash cow.”

“Once you run drugs through the place, you mean,” He tensed up for a moment and you realized you’d struck a chord. His hand was on your throat, his thumb brushing over your cheek, and a piercing gaze burning holes into your skin. 

“I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head over it,” For a moment, you closed your eyes, and imagined wrapping your arms around him. He’d become your haven so quickly and you’d almost forgotten how it felt for someone to care so much for you. Love you even when you didn’t want to love yourself. When you opened them again, you realized what he meant by his words. 

He wasn’t giving you a choice. 

You stepped back, letting his hand fall back to his side, before you crossed your arms, “Things aren’t going back to the way they were.”

Much to your surprise, Steve nodded, “No, I made some mistakes. Letting you go being the biggest one.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re dangerous, Steve, and I want nothing to do with it.”

“And this is safer, Y/N?” He raised his voice, “Men having their grimy hands all over you . . . I’m taking you home.”

“I can take care of myself!” 

“Really?” He smirked condescendingly, and you imagined he was seeing you as a bratty child throwing a tantrum, “He-” He stepped to the side, and pointed a finger at Loki, “-was going to lay you off a week from now. The club went under a long time ago and he was going to take your hard-earned money and run, leaving you with nothing. What would you do then?”

Loki stood up, interrupting, a nervous smile on his face, “Not with nothing. I-I pay all the ladies very well and I would like to continue to do that . . . that’s why I’m so grateful for your generosity, Mr. Rogers-” He cleared his throat awkwardly. He was lying through his teeth. 

“You won’t be paying them anymore, Mr. Laufeyson,” Steve spoke calmly, too calmly, and as his hands reached up to his waist belt, you suspected the worse. 

“Steve-” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Loki rushed out his words as Steve pointed his favorite silver handgun in his direction, “We had a deal!”

“Steve, don’t!” Panicked, you grabbed a hold of his strong arm. As soon as you saw him, you knew the night wouldn’t end good but death was not something you predicted. Before, he’d never show you the violent side of his world. Now, something had changed, “Steve, please don’t!”

“Come with me,” He spoke sternly, “Come home and I won’t.”

“Okay,” You said immediately, looking up at his unchanging expression. He didn’t move which only panicked you further, “I will! Steve, please don’t.”

“He’s not a good man. He’s been using you this whole time,” Steve said, finally turning to look at you. Your body was shaking, the idea of being so close to the gun was frightening you further, “You’d give yourself up for this scumbag?”

Though it made you more anxious, you moved closer to him, grabbing a hold of his free hand. With your other arm, you hugged his torso, and as he stared down at him, “I-I don’t want you to hurt anyone, Daddy,” You spoke softly, “ . . . please, Daddy?” Something softened in his features as you called him by his favorite nickname. He squeezed your smaller hand and, for a moment, you thought things might be okay. 

The sound was deafening when Steve pulled the trigger. Although you couldn’t hear anything, you knew you were screaming, and that you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to open your eyes ever again. He tried to wrap his arms around you and you remembered fighting it, hitting his chest, and screaming even louder. Somewhere along the line, you gave in, he was too strong, letting him wrap his long coat over your scantily clothed figure. 

You were breathing heavily and when you decided to open your eyes again, everything was blurry, “Daddy had to . . . I’m sorry . . . Babydoll,” You heard in your ear. You were moving, he was holding you . . . when had he picked you up? When did the car start driving? You wished badly that you’d listened to Wanda. 

You remembered holding onto him tighter, crying into his shoulder, “Why?” He heard the pain in your voice, felt the realization that your life would never be the same. 

“Because you’re mine,” He rubbed circled into your back, leaving soft kisses on your cheek, “And I needed to remind you of what your Daddy is capable of. Anyone who hurts you, anyone who even lays a hand on you, is going to meet the same fate.”

“I don’t want this,” You hiccuped. Steve didn’t believe you, not with the way you were holding him. “This . . . it’s so scary, S-Steve.”

“I’m sorry I had to scare you, baby,” It reminded him of last year when things were good between you two, and you comfortably moved in and out of little space. He could sense you were dying to go to that safe space and, selfishly, he was hoping the trauma of tonight would push you into that mindset, “Daddy’s going to take better care of you. You’ll live with me now, where you’ll be safe.” 

You only closed your eyes, no fight left in you. In the world of Steve Rogers, you didn’t think safety existed. 

+

You awoke in a pink cloud. The sheets were so soft, heavenly even, and it almost made you forget your situation. You felt something crawling on top of the sheets and you sat up quickly, almost giving yourself whiplash. Realizing it was a furry, white creature, you relaxed, “Alpine, you scared me,” The cat crawled into your embrace and you pet it gently, wondering where exactly it’s owner was.

As you looked around what you assumed was your new room, you couldn’t help but be a bit impressed. You almost forgot how well Steve knew you. Elegant white furniture, a canopy bed with white fabric falling from the sides, a huge wardrobe, a bookcase, a mountain of stuffed animals - frogs, elephants, dolphins, practically the entire animal kingdom - and the fairy lights were a nice touch. 

Maybe you were more than impressed. Astounded, actually. 

“Oh my . . . stars,” You climbed out of the queen-sized bed, cat in your arms, and quickly realized that your lingerie was gone and your glitter had been washed away. Did he give you a bath? While you were sleeping? You dressed in a large t-shirt and as you brought the fabric up to your nose, you realized it was his, “Why didn’t you warn me that he was this off his rocker, Alpine?”

The cat only responded with a quiet meow. 

You moved over to the window and, expectedly, it didn’t budge when you tried to push it open. You looked out onto the vast landscape, perfectly manicured rolling hills of green, a garden, Olympic sized pool, beautiful white statues, and armed guards to match.

It was like you remembered though Steve didn’t bring you to his “private home” often. The two of you always met in the city and, what started as an interesting sugar arrangement, quickly blossomed into a new dynamic. 

You wandered around the room, examining every detail that he had put into it. You imagined the military man had placed a lot of the objects himself, making sure everything was perfect when you saw it. 

The room is also gigantic, you could do at least ten cartwheels from one wall to the other. You’d never imagined living somewhere like this, the room itself was bigger than any place you’d ever lived. 

As the door creaked open, Alpine leaped from your arms, taking the opportunity to escape. You watched the creature crawl between Steve’s legs before slipping out, probably going to look for Bucky. As your eyes traveled up his figure, you assumed he’d be dressed down in his home but the businessman was clad in another suit. 

You were glad not to be crying anymore but seeing him now was reminding you of the horror show that was last night, “My things, I had money in my bag,” Was the first thing you thought to say, “I want it.”

“You don’t need it,” He said what you assumed he would. 

“But-” You stopped yourself, “Can you give it to Wanda, please?”

“Please and thank you?” Steve cocked his eyebrow, smirking, “I wasn’t expecting that from you today.”

You didn’t respond, only crossed your arms defiantly, “I want Wanda to have it.”

“Done,” Steve raised his hands in surrender, “Is that all you want? Can I interest you in breakfast, little one?”

He didn’t know how deeply his words cut into you. How you wanted nothing more than to forget your worries and be his little girl. How you’d probably get on your knees and kindly do anything he asked . . . if this was a perfect world. You tried to shake that feeling because this world was anything but perfect. 

“I guess,” Your hunger suddenly crossing your mind. 

He nodded, a smile threatening to form on his lips, “Do you want help getting ready?” You quickly shook your head and you assumed he knew that it would be your response, “Well, I picked something out for you. I left it in the bathroom.”

“So what, I’m supposed to  . . . wear whatever you want and be your little trophy?”

“And if you sit still and look pretty, Daddy will buy you anything you want,” Your eyes narrowed at him and you looked away, knowing you’d probably burst into flames if you looked at the annoying smirk any longer, “I’ll come to get you in ten minutes.”

You were already walking towards the bathroom, feeling his eyes on you the entire way. The bathroom was even more immaculate than the bedroom, a big chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling, with sleek marble fixtures. You avoided the mirror when the thick makeup came off at the end of the day, so you were shocked seeing your bare face. It made you look . . . innocent. It was the opposite image the club wanted to present. 

You found a new toothbrush in one of the drawers and proceeded to brush your teeth, before washing your face. 

The dress he’d picked out was frilly and white, a stark but beautiful contrast to your skin. It puffed at the sleeves but grabbed your waist and then flounced out when reaching down to your knees. You did a small twirl, letting the ends of the dress softly caress the tips of your fingers. Realizing you liked it quite a lot made you frown in the mirror.

Most likely, there was no racy lingerie and tassels in that wardrobe. He said you looked beautiful last night but there was no chance he’d let you ever look like that again, especially in front of his men. 

When you left the bathroom and realized Steve had not returned, you decided to slip out of the room. You wandered down the big hallway, your bare feet padding against the carpet, as you examined each piece of artwork and decoration. Steve’s taste was expensive but his style was old-fashioned, choosing elegance over flashy things. 

You admired it for a second and then remembered the blood spilled, the money stolen, and the dirty things that funded it. 

 “I thought I said I’d come and get you.”

You turned around, noticing how his breath caught in his throat as he took you in. He was deadly, he killed a man right in front of you, yet he was like a teenager in love when he saw you. 

You mentally cursed. 

+

“Are you full?” He asked, looking at your plate of a half-eaten pancake. There was still a feast laid out in front of you which was tempting but you couldn’t help but see it as consuming more of his forbidden fruit. 

You only nodded and his lips pressed into a thin line. 

He was holding back, you could tell. He wanted to make sure you were fully nourished and he’d probably prefer to feed you himself. 

“Eat more,” He added, “Please-”

You stood up abruptly, “I want to look for Alpine,” You made a move to leave the dining room but, as you passed his chair, he grabbed a hold of your wrist. He gripped you stronger as you tried to pull away. 

“After you eat more,” He commanded. 

“I’m not hungry,” Your eyes didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Babydoll, can’t you see I’m trying to play nice?” He tried to hide the venom in his tone, “I could’ve bent you over my knee already for not addressing me properly. Do you want that?”

You shook your head. 

“Use your words, please.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I don’t want that . . . Daddy.” 

When you made a move to go back to your seat, he grabbed your arm tighter, “Sit with me,” He said but his tone was softer than before. You sat down on his knee and, instinctively, his arm wrapped around your torso, holding you in place, “Relax.” 

You turned your head closer to him, the familiar feeling of being in his arms led your muscles to relax. He brought pieces of fruit to your mouth and, as you opened your mouth for him, you heard, “Good girl.” 

When he first wanted to do things like this with you, he told you to imagine the things you liked when you were younger. You told him that you never had a lot of toys, never got a lot of praise, and that you were always the one taking care of others, not the other way around. What he made you feel was foreign but it satisfied a need you never knew you had. 

“You haven’t been eating enough,” He commented. You shrugged and he frowned a bit, “Three meals a day from now on. And snacks. And lots of water.”

“And what if I don’t, Daddy?” You challenged, more playful than you intended. 

Steve gave you a look that was much too loving for you to hold his gaze, “How about, if you do, then I’ll give you a reward . . .” His voice trailed off as he thought for a moment, “What would you like?”

“I wanna go back to the city-”

Steve smirked, “Something realistic, preferably,” It took everything in you not to roll your eyes, “A new outfit? . . . A new toy? . . . I know what you want.”

“No, you don’t,” You pouted. 

“Stickers,” He answered, proud when he saw you perk up, “Sparkly, butterfly ones probably.”

“I don’t-”

He interrupted your lie, tickling your side, and you tried not to smile, “You love those little things! You’d probably prefer it over a designer bag or a trip to europe.” 

“They’re not expensive and I like collecting them,” You tried to explain, your voice low. 

“Then that’ll be it. A week of not skipping meals will get you a special sticker for your chart, we’ll even hang it on the fridge.” 

You didn’t mind the idea . . . you could have so many stickers after a long while. 

“A week,” You repeated, “How long do you expect for me to stay here?”

“There’s lots to do, you won’t get bored,” He spoke dismissively, probably frustrated by your question. You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted when the table started shaking, Steve’s phone vibrating on top of it. 

“Rogers,” Steve answered, pressing the phone to his ear, “Yes, I’m aware . . you told me that you took care of him . . . I don’t need to tell you how to do your job, you’re just supposed to do it  . . .  he’ll listen if it comes from me . . . i’ll handle it, okay? . . . Babydoll,” He softly patted your knee, “Why don’t you go look for Alpine?”

You took that as your cue that he was about to start cursing and didn’t want you around to hear it. 

+

An hour later, you were wandering around the garden and Steve still hadn’t tried to find you. You guessed that he was busy with his work now but you were more focused on finding Alpine. You’d search every inch of the inside of the house and now there was only one place left. You realized that you could also start thinking about a way out of this place. 

“Here kitty, kitty,” Your eyebrows raised as you heard an unfamiliar voice. You wandered further along the path, trying to look through the greenery, before stumbling upon an opening with a large fountain in the middle. Alpine was walking around the top of it, frustrating the man trying to get him down from such a tall height. 

He was one of Steve’s men, you could tell by the dark clothing, though you didn’t recognize him. He was much younger, and honestly, more attractive than a lot of them. You could tell the light had gone out in a lot of the people that Steve kept around. You could already tell he wasn’t like that, “Come on, dude, now you’re just messing with me!”

The cat seemed to brush him off, continuing to walk along the edge. 

“You have to be more gentle than that,” You said, knowing you would startle him. It amused you a little how he seemed to jump out of his skin. His hand held over his heart, you could tell he was a bit taken aback by your appearance. You moved toward the fountain, holding your arms out for it, “C’mere, Alpine, the scary man won’t hurt you.”

His eyes were wide as the cat easily jumped into your arms, “He obviously doesn’t like me,” He said, watching as you brushed Alpine’s ears with your fingers, “And yet Bucky always puts me on cat duty.”

“Maybe Bucky is the one that doesn’t like you,” You responded. 

He frowned, “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” You walked towards you, encouraging Alpine to climb into his arms. Alpine seemed to listen, welcoming his touch, “He’s never been this nice to me. Are you some kind of animal whisperer?”

You giggled a bit, “I’m Y/N.”

Peter’s mouth formed an “o” shape like he was connecting the dots in his mind, “I-I’m Peter . . . aren’t you like . . . not supposed to be out here?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Am I?” He seemed to panic for a moment, “I mean, I didn’t get the brief that Steve probably gave you all.”

“Right,” He nodded nervously, “Do you . . . should I walk you back to the house?”

“Actually, can you walk me to my room? I don’t think I remember where it was,” You played dumb. 

“Yeah, sure,” He agreed.

Perfect. He was perfect. If there was a way out of here, he was it. 

+

You didn’t see Steve until later that night. He was right in the fact that you didn’t get bored, there were a million things to do even in your own room. You’d floated away, your mind now completely occupied by the coloring page you were scribbling on. 

As Steve sat on the side of your bed, you felt the weight of his day come down with him. Another reason he kept your arrangement before was because you provided stress relief after a long day. He touched your hair, patting your head, and you turned your head to look at him. 

“Did you have lunch?” He asked and you nodded sheepishly, “Dinner?” You nodded again. 

“Maria made sure I ate.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of your head, “Good girl. Wanna show me what you’re working on?”

You sat up from your position, moving the picture book into his lap, “It’s me and you,” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked down at the picture of Belle and the Beast. 

“You’re funny,” Steve smiled, his eyes getting those little crinkles at the side.

“Did you end up handling your business?” You asked curiously. 

“I did, actually,” He responded, failing to elaborate, “And that’s all you need to know.”

You closed your book, tossing it to the side, and standing up on the bed. You walked over to the pillows and plopped down, “Don’t you think it's a little unfair to hide things? I want to hear a story before bed. Or are your stories too scary?”

You were only teasing him but as he turned over, crawling towards you, your heart began to race, “Did I ever tell you the story about the little girl who always ran her mouth?” 

You shook your head, and Steve let you stew a moment longer before he pounced. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down onto you back, as he climbed on top of you, “Well, she was always mad at her Daddy because he was . . . very protective. Her Daddy had to fix this, of course, he couldn’t have such a naughty little girl trying to boss him around. He didn’t punish her though, he just fucked her until she couldn’t speak.”

“I don’t like this one-” You were interrupted when his lips crashed down on yours. 

You felt suffocated by him, trapped beneath his love, until you started to move your lips against his. You must’ve been just as crazy as he was for wanting this. 

You gasped for air when he finally pulled away. You watched him hurriedly take off his already unbuttoned,  button down, and undo his belt. You were sliding your dress sleeves off, trying to get your panties down your leg. When they were around your ankles, he tore them away, throwing them to the side. 

Your lips were on his again, “Steve-” He grabbed your wrist roughly, pinning them above your head with one hand, and he grabbed your face with the other.

“Call me Daddy,” He demanded, sinking between your hips. 

“Steve-” You felt a quick sting across your cheek and Steve watched a fire build in your eyes. 

“Bad girl,” He sunk his hard member into you, causing your head to tilt back. He was anything but gentle, moving in and out of you with long and hard strokes, “You’re such a bad girl.”

“Tell me you want my cum,” He grunted, breathing hard against your skin, “Tell me.”

“I want your cum,” You rushed out, an orgasm already building as he maintained his pace. You missed this so much. If there was one thing, you missed. He was the first person to ever make you cum without oral sex. Before him, you didn’t even know your body could do this. 

“Say it,” He continued, “Say it, little girl.”

He was going to slow down if you didn’t and that was the last thing you wanted, “I want your cum, Daddy,” You gasped out, your body convulsing beneath him, “I want it so bad, Daddy.” 

He finished deep inside you, your body tightly wrapping around him, and sweat covering your bodies. You were coming down from the high when the panic set in. Why did you let him do that? And why did you want it?

He was holding you and, as your tears began to fall, he pulled you into him, “It’s okay,” He cooed, “I’ve got ya��. You’re going to be just fine, Babydoll.”

+

part two

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